Series: One Step Closer Trilogy
Title: Hear Me Out
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hamena.org
Fandom: LOTR
Archive: Any, so long as I know where it is  ^^
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Elrond/Thranduil, Surprise Pairing
Timeline: October 25 - December 25 3018 TA
Spoilers:  None
Summary: Thranduil learns of Elrond's decision to send his youngest
son on the Quest of the One Ring and rides to Imladris to have a
"discussion" with his lover over his choices.
A/N: This came about because of an innocent... I assume *laughs*...
email from Morgana about "The Color of Love Trilogy" and asked about a
sequel for "Thought You Were History".  I thought about it and agreed
that the stories were not complete and chose to create 2 more arcs,
making a trilogy of trilogies.  The 3 fics in this arc are inspired
by Linkin Park's music.  I hope everyone enjoys it.  Also, the silver 
eyes thing -- straight from Implacida.  ^^  I must thank her for 
allowing me to play in her world when it comes to this.

---

Elrond sat at the desk in his private study.  The Council had gone
somewhat better than he had hoped.  They would destroy the One Ring.
All he had to do was choose the nine to go on the Quest.

He rubbed his temples.  He knew who he wanted to send.  It wasn't
difficult for him.  The Dwarf, Gimli, would go.  Frodo and Sam already
agreed and so had Gandalf.  Aragorn and Boromir would travel as far as
Minas Tirith and that left three positions.  The cousins of Frodo
would do, he supposed... but the Elf...

Legolas.  He had arrived a few days prior to the Council.  Elrond
stood and walked to the small balcony outside the study and looked out
over the main lawns of The Last Homely House.  He could see the
Hobbits and the Men on one of the lawns, playing some game to pass the
time.  Casting his eyes to the farthest corner, he saw his sons and
the gleaming head of gold between them.

His sons would never forgive him.  His lover would never forgive him.
Had five centuries really have passed them all by?  Elladan and
Elrohir had had five hundred years with their lover, would that have
been enough if the Elf should fall while fulfilling his task in the
Quest?  Would his sons survive the loss of Legolas?  So many
questions, but he had no other choice.  Legolas was the right Elf to
send with the Company, there was no other way.

Thranduil should be here, he thought.  He should see his son before
the Prince leaves.  Elrond chewed his lip.  The Mirkwood King would be
furious.  His love for Legolas was almost an obsession.  Their bond
was strong and Thranduil would feel this was a betrayal by the
Peredhel.  What neither his sons nor his lover would understand was
how much his own heart broke at the mere thought of Arda losing the
light that shone in Legolas.  The Imladris Lord had grown to love the
Sinda Elf as if he were his own child.

He could not put this off any longer.  Elrond allowed his mind to
become clear, his breathing to calm and cast himself out to the East,
to a lonely, dark Wood where his love resided.

Erestor entered the study, carrying several books and scrolls.  The
Councilor opened his mouth but shut it quickly.  Elrond stood on his
veranda, still and quiet, looking out over the land.  The dark-haired
Noldo approached his Lord carefully and breathed a sigh of relief when
he saw the metallic quality Elrond's grey eyes had taken.  The
Peredhel was speaking to Galadriel or Thranduil.

Elrond knew Erestor had seated himself a few feet away, but he was
otherwise engaged.

/Thranduil, you must calm yourself./

/Calm myself?!  Elrond, you cannot do this./

/I do what is necessary to save our world, melethron./

/At the expense of my son!/

/I look upon him as my son, as well, Thranduil.  Do you think this was
simple for me to decide?/

/Have you told him?/

/Not yet.  I don't want to until we are ready to send them on the
Quest.  But, I wanted you to know from me, not a messenger or through
gossip./

/Well, thank you for that courtesy./

Elrond flinched at the tone Thranduil's thoughts had taken.  The brief
mental images he received did nothing to settle his conscience,
either.  /I am sorry, seron vell./

There was no reply, no thought of love or parting, just an emptiness
where his love had severed their connection.  He blinked a few times,
clearing the doubts from his eyes and turned a sad smile to Erestor.
"Thranduil will arrive within the week.  Please ready his room."

Erestor looked at his friend with an odd expression.  "Meldir,
Thranduil has not used 'his room' in centuries beyond counting.  He
shares your suite."

Leaving the balcony, Elrond sighed.  "Not this time."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thranduil urged his horse into a full run, trying to reach Imladris by
sundown.  He knew the stallion was exhausted, but he needed to see
Elrond, needed his son.  He had been ignoring Elrond's gentle attempts
to speak with him, his anger clouding rational thought.  As he crossed
the borders of Rivendell, though, the gentle attempts became one
massive push that nearly caused him to pass out.

/Thranduil!  You will listen to me, or I will have you barred from
these lands!/

Thranduil bared his teeth, his now silver eyes gleaming in the dying
sun.  /Try it, Peredhel, and I will be back with an army./  He made
sure his thoughts swam with red mist, that his mind-voice growled with
pent-up rage.

/Do not presume to threaten me, King of Mirkwood!/

/I presume nothing./

/You will behave while in this House, Thranduil.  I am not prepared to
tell Legolas this decision and you will not do so before I have had a
chance to speak with the boy./

/How dare you tell me what I shall and shall not do, Half-Elf?/

/I dare because I love you as much as I love Legolas and this is
difficult enough without you storming in here and raising havoc where
nerves are already frayed.  Now, swear to me you will abide my wishes
or I will have you turned back *now*./

Thranduil sent a wordless reply of agreement and felt Elrond recede
from his mind, leaving him in relative peace.

Elrond Peredhel.  Thranduil's emerald eyes glittered with repressed
emotion.  It physically pained him to be so furious with the Half-Elf.
Their bond was strong.  Although he had thought to bind himself to
Elrond on that long-ago night in Imladris when he found the dark-
haired Lord with Gil-Galad, it was too late.  His Fëa had found its
mate in Elrond and they were forever tied.  Over the last five hundred
years, that bond had been reinforced and strengthened.

How the Imladris Lord could, in good faith, send Legolas on a mission
that would surely claim the Elf's life...  Thranduil spurred his mount
on, determined to stop Elrond from making one more mistake in a long
line that Elrond repeatedly made in the name of what he believed was
right.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not realize that he
had crossed the borders into the Imladris-controlled lands.  When he
heard the rustle of motion, his hand went immediately to his sword.
Then Glorfindel and Elladan appeared from out of the woods, and
Thranduil relaxed, feeling a little embarrassed at being so jumpy.
The escort took up their positions on either side of him and brought 
him to the stables in silence.

"My Lord Thranduil, what has brought you to Imladris?" Elladan finally
said once they had reached their destination.

"I have come to speak with Lord Elrond," he said simply, dismounting
quickly though gracefully.  "Where is he?"

Glorfindel's blazing gaze met the King's.  "He is in his study,
Thranduil," the Balrog-slayer said tensely.  "Follow me."  The Elda
turned to led Thranduil to Elrond when he noticed Elladan following
them.  "Elladan, your presence here is not required.  Go back out to
finish the patrols or assign someone else to do it.  I care not."

Elladan looked stunned.  Glorfindel had never spoken to him in such a
short, clipped tone, and it irked Elladan.  He glowered at his old
tutor and stormed off in the direction of one of the Eastern gardens
that he knew Legolas and his twin frequented.

Thranduil walked in step with the Imladris Seneschal.  "Is there
something wrong, my Lord?" he inquired.

"Wrong?  What could be wrong, Thranduil?  Elrond has decided to send
your son, the twins' love, off on some foolish quest that is likely to
get all nine of them killed.  In his infinite wisdom, our Lord has
decided a Mirkwood Elf who has spent his two thousand odd years of
life defending your Wood is equipped enough to represent our entire
race.  So, you ask if something is wrong and I must say yes, meldir."

Thranduil was silent for a moment, considering the words just spat at
him.  "Do I detect notes of bitterness, Lord Glorfindel?"

"No."

"I think I do.  You are offended Elrond did not ask you."

Glorfindel stopped in front of the massive carved oak door and
motioned for Thranduil to enter.  "I hope your stay in Imladris is
productive, my Lord." With that, the golden-haired Elf turned on his
heel and walked swiftly away.

*****

"So, let me get this straight.  You are sending my son -- my youngest
son, heart of my heart, and incidentally, your sons' lover -- to the
stronghold of Sauron *in possession* of that which the Dark Lord
desires most.  To accompany him, you are sending the son of the
Steward of Gondor, the rightful *heir* to Gondor (and your daughter's
betrothed), a grubby little Dwarf who happens to be the son of Gloin
-- a *famous* grubby little Dwarf, a 'relative' of Bilbo Baggins, his
two cousins, and his *gardener*!"

Elrond's voice was meek in the large room.  "Technically, Legolas
would be accompanying Frodo.  Frodo is the Ringbearer."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed.  "You gave.  The Ring.  To the *Hobbit*?!"

"He volunteered."

"Of course he did!  He's Bilbo's relative!  That damned Halfling was
the greediest little snake I ever met!"

Elrond looked up with a sudden spark of remembrance.  "Mithrandir's
going with them, as well."

"Mithrandir?!  That scheming little wizard?  Bah!  Parlor tricks and
fireworks are supposed to keep those nine safe all the way to
Orodruin?"

The Lord of Imladris hung his head again.  "Seven.  The Men are only
going as far as Minas Tirith."

"You didn't think this through very well, did you?"  Thranduil threw
his hands up in frustration.  He turned his back on his lover and
said, without looking at Elrond, "Tell me why I should not grab my
son, ride back to Mirkwood, lock my realm up tighter than Moria, and
prepare to send my army out to begin the next Kinslaying."

"Because you trust me."  The statement was presumptuous, egotistical,
and arrogant.  It was also true.

Thranduil still did not turn around.  "Yes.  I trust you, meleth.  Of
course I do; I love you.  That does not mean that I have to like you
very much right now.  Or indeed, ever again."

Elrond watched helplessly as the Mirkwood King strode out of the
library as though he was being chased by a horde of Balrogs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thranduil more or less kept his own counsel over the next two weeks,
although Legolas was seen with him often as well.  The two Mirkwood
Elves did not consciously avoid the Imladris ruling family, but
neither did they go out of their way to spend time with their
respective partners.

Which is why the King was so surprised when Elladan and Elrohir sought
him out during a walk through the orchards.  The two approached
slowly, unsure of Thranduil's mood or receptivity to company.  When
they were close enough to not have to shout, Elladan ventured, "My
Lord Thranduil, might we steal a few moments of your time?"

Thranduil sighed, although he was inwardly thankful of the opportunity
for some company.  Most of those in Imladris knew of his relationship
with Elrond, had gleaned their recent falling-out, and were
consequently avoiding the Sinda.  A chance for contact with someone
other than his son was quite welcome, therefore.

"It is about your son," Elrohir clarified.

Thranduil realized he had been ruminating and had not responded when
Elladan first spoke.  He cleared his throat.  "Of course.  Legolas.
What can I help you with?"

The twins looked between themselves, not certain of where to begin.
Elrohir finally said, "We continue to hurt him, and we know not why."

"He envies our connection, we know," Elladan continued, "but this
feels like more than just that."

"He's holding something back from us.  We don't know what."

Thranduil nodded with a heavy sigh.  "You are describing Oropher's
Curse, I'm afraid.  That is the name we give to this malady that
plagues all the males of my father's line.  We are glacially slow to
give our hearts to anyone, and even then, we only give by halves.  The
fear of rejection seems destined to be bred into the descendants of
Oropher until the end of Arda."

"Is there aught you can say to assist us?  We fear that we will be
parted soon, and we do not wish that parting to be on poor terms."

Thranduil started at Elrohir's words.  Did the younger twin suspect
the King's true reason for being in Imladris?  Thranduil did not think
so, but he still avoided responding to that line of thought.  Instead,
he focused on the first part of the Peredhel's statement.  "Frankly,
I am surprised that Legolas shows as much attachment to you as he does
after such a relatively short time.  I had hopes that he would not be
affected as I was by the curse of my father.  Alas, it seems not to
be.  In such a case, the only thing I can offer you is this: my son is
very bright.  He will realize soon enough how important you are to him
and he to you.  He is too smart to allow such a meaningful 
relationship to be tossed away."

The twins bowed their heads, touching their hands to their foreheads
and chests.  "Thank you, Lord Thranduil," they said together, turning
around and walking back toward the gates of the orchard.

Just before they left the close quarters of the sparse opening,
though, Elladan stopped and turned around.  "My Lord?"

"Yes?"

"We think you're quite bright yourself."  The elder twin turned around
again and sprinted after his brother.

Thranduil smiled softly and turned to leave the courtyard as well.
His thoughts drifted to his son.  The great king felt that some of
Legolas' faults were because of him.  Legolas had been an unexpected
child, one that Thranduil nor his wife had tried to conceive.  There
was a large age gap between his middle and youngest son, and Thranduil
had spoiled Legolas.  His wife had coddled the Elfling and Thranduil
had given into any and all of the small child's demands.

He was sure that over the centuries Legolas had equated love with
undivided attention.  That was what Thranduil had given him.  It was
only when he took Elrond as his lover once again that he made the
discovery that Legolas had a warped sense of love and affection.  And
it was his fault.

The King sighed.  Hopefully, the twins could undo his years of damage.
He had thought he was doing right by his youngest, especially after
his wife had left for Valinor.  Legolas was still but a child and
needed the reassurance only Thranduil could offer.  Now, not only was
Legolas paying for the twisted upbringing, but so were Elladan and
Elrohir.

*****

Elrond sat in the rapidly cooling bath water, unashamedly brooding.
The One Ring was within his realm, and the forces of Sauron were no
doubt gathering near.  Should he delay his decision in sending it on,
Imladris would be besieged.  But if the Company he tapped for the
quest were not ideal, he would be handing the Ring over to the Enemy.

And then there was Thranduil.  His lover was sleeping several doors
down from his chambers: alone.  The last words they shared were in
anger.  He couldn't say that he blamed the Mirkwood King; if Thranduil
planned to send any of his children on a dangerous quest, Elrond knew
that he would be more than a little upset as well.

But, Elbereth, it was hard being so close to the Elf he'd loved for so
long and not be able to hold him or even touch him!  The Peredhel Lord
had taken to wearing robes that were a size too large for him to hide
the near-constant state of arousal that he was in just knowing that
Thranduil was near.

Even now, he could feel himself stiffening under the water as memories
came unbidden of past pleasures with the beautiful Sinda in this very
room.  He shifted, and a sudden current of warm water washed across
his cock, making Elrond shudder.  He brushed his fingertips across the
tightly stretched skin and felt another satisfying shiver pass through
him.  He made his decision quickly, sliding up onto the carved seat
inside the bathing pool.  He was certainly not above a little self-
love, and if it would ease the tension he was feeling, so much the
better.

He began with long, slow strokes from the head all the way to the base
and back up.  The motion sent eddies of water swirling across his
skin, made sensitive by his heightened arousal.  He stroked himself
this way for several minutes, keeping his grip loose, savoring the
gentleness of the sensations.

Gradually, without any clear transition, he began to tighten his grip
and stroke only the shaft of his cock.  His head fell back in
pleasure, and his eyes closed.  Images floated through his mind as he
sped up his motions: Thranduil's hands, Thranduil's mouth, his chest,
his arse.  Thranduil pleasuring him; himself pleasuring Thranduil.  No
other lover had as totally captured his heart and mind as the Mirkwood
King had.  He was the only one that Elrond hungered for, the only one
that Elrond could imagine himself with any longer.

Soft moans punctuated Elrond's breathing as he worked his hand
frantically along his shaft.  In his mind, he imagined Thranduil's
hand in place of his own, imagined that he could feel the Elf-lord
beside him, whispering words of love into his ear.  Elrond whispered
his lover's name like a mantra: "Thranduil.  Oh, Thranduil."

His eyes were clenched shut so tightly that tears began to squeeze
from the corners of his lids.  His entire body was trembling, and his
breath was coming in swallows and gasps.  Elrond could hear his heart
pounding in his ears like Orc drums.  He held himself at the moment of
release as long as he could stand, then let himself go with an
enormous cry of rapture.  His cock twitched and pulsed under the
water, sending streams of his seed to mingle with the bath.

Elrond struggled to pull himself from the bathing pool.  His energy
was drained, and his body was sated.  His mind, though, drew very
little comfort from the act.  As he dried himself off and walked to
his bed in the other room, all he could think, over and over, was that
he had to reconcile with his lover, no matter what the cost.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thranduil came into the cool courtyard, turning his face toward the
sun and inhaling the deep, refreshing crisp air.  He and Elrond
usually shirked responsibilities on days like this and walked through
the wooded areas around The Last Homely House.  Or, they would if
Thranduil would at least *speak* with his lover.

A week had passed since Elladan had told him to seek out the Elf-lord,
but Thranduil was proud.  He felt a strange sense of history repeating
itself.  His pride kept him from Elrond for over two thousand years.
Would it happen all over again?  He ached at the thought of never
seeing his bonded again, never holding him in his arms.  But, at this
moment, he was consumed with worry over his son.  And Elrond was the
source of that worry.  If he would only choose someone else...

Thranduil knew that was a futile thought.

"Thranduil!  Elven-King!"

Thranduil turned and saw an old Hobbit slowly walking toward him,
smiling broadly and carrying a red book.  Thranduil could not keep the
smile from his lips at the sight.  "Bilbo, Elf-Friend."

Huffing, Bilbo climbed onto one of the stone benches near Thranduil
and motioned for the King to join him.  Thranduil complied, fluidly
sitting beside his long-time friend.  "You are looking well,
Master Bilbo," he offered, gazing down at the age-ravaged Hobbit.

Bilbo scoffed.  "No, Elven-King, I am not.  I look old; there *are*
mirrors here in Imladris.  But you, you have not aged a day since I
saw you last."

Thranduil chuckled.  "Such is the way of the Elves, Master Bilbo."

They sat in companionable silence for some time, watching the beauty
of the valley before them.  Finally, Thranduil turned to Bilbo once
again, motioning at the large red book.  "Are you doing some reading
in your Golden Years?"

Bilbo shook his head.  "No, this is the story of my adventure.  'There
and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale.' Would you like to read it?  Perhaps
correct anything I missed about the part you played in the story?"

Thranduil smiled softly.  "No, Master Bilbo, I will not correct
anything.  It is *your* story, not mine.  But, I would be honored to
read it when I have a moment of peace to myself."

Bilbo nodded and put the book aside.  "I am planning my second novel
now.  About the great Quest, since it is Frodo who will be the
Ringbearer.  I should write it; keep it a part of our history.  Most
of it will have to wait, though, since I can only write to the point
where he will leave Rivendell."  Bilbo sighed sadly.

The Elf-lord looked away from his friend and decided to see how much
Bilbo knew.  "Do you think Frodo will be sent alone?"

The Hobbit shook his head again.  "No, I know that Lord Elrond is
sending Sam -- our old gardener -- and Gandalf with him."

Thranduil chuckled.  "You feel confident, then, that Frodo will be
successful with the Wizard and your gardener?"

"No, I think Lord Elrond plans on sending others."  He thought for a
moment.  "I think Lord Aragorn will be going with him, he seems
anxious to leave here, and I would not doubt that his fate is somehow
connected to the Ring.  Boromir will be leaving as well, heading back
to Minas Tirith, so it would make sense to send him along, at least
as far as Gondor."

"So, two Hobbits, a Wizard and two Men to protect your kin as far as
Minas Tirith?"

"I also think he will be sending one of the Dwarves, probably the
youngest one, Gloin's son... what was his name?"  Bilbo thought for a
moment and then smiled brightly.  "Gimli!  Yes, I think he will send
Gimli with them.  After all, Dwarves and Hobbits make a formidable
combination, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would not dare not to," Thranduil said amiably.  "Do you think
they will send an Elf with them as well, then?"  Thranduil kept his
tone light, never looking at the wily Hobbit.

"I would think so.  For the Elves are skilled beyond any of the other
companions and have very keen senses.  An Elf would be invaluable to
Frodo."

"Have you thought about who Elrond would send?"

The familiar tone and way King Thranduil spoke the Imladris Lord's
name made Bilbo smile faintly.  He had thought there was more to the
two Elves than met the eye.  But, both Lords had been very edgy and
avoided one another since Thranduil's arrival.  Bilbo couldn't really
understand why, but knew it was not his place to discuss the private
matters of the Mirkwood King.  "I have thought some," he said after a
few moments.

"And your conclusions?"

"Well, it would be an obvious choice to send Lord Glorfindel.  He is
an accomplished warrior, someone who has been to the Halls of Mandos
and back.  He would be an excellent companion."

My thoughts exactly, thought Thranduil, feeling a bit smug now that
someone else had voiced what he had always thought.

"But, he would also draw much attention.  He is a renowned warrior,
after all, and I believe evil would be drawn to him.  I do not think
Lord Elrond will send his Seneschal.  My next thought had been one or
both his sons, since Lord Elrond would not put his own desires above
those of the common good.  Same problem as Lord Glorfindel, though."

Thranduil was surprised.  The Hobbit was quite intuitive and made very
good points.  Which made the Elf quite irate.

"Lords Elladan and Elrohir are great Orc slayers; Isengard knows them
by name.  They would be a danger to the company, not a safeguard.
Also, I am sure that the White Wizard knows the Ring has made it here
and is sending something nasty to retrieve it.  Therefore, it would be
in Imladris' best interest to keep the twin sons here for her
defense."

Damn him, thought Thranduil as his thoughts darkened further with each
revelation.

"That leaves us very few Lord Elrond would entrust such an endeavor
to.  Lord Erestor is no longer a warrior.  I am sure he is still as
fit and deadly as he once was, but he is needed here as the Chief
Councilor, not a warrior.  Lord Elrond cannot leave Imladris, or I am
sure he would have sent himself.  That is the extent of the Elves here
in Rivendell that I believe could be sent on such a Quest, and each
one -- for their own reason or another -- would not be the Lord's
choice.  I do wonder who he will send, then..."  Bilbo trailed off,
his mind wandering through the Elves he knew in Rivendell.  "Unless,"
he said, looking into the cool green eyes of the Elf-King, "you are
here as the one Lord Elrond chose."

Thranduil could not help the laughter that erupted from him.  "No,
Master Bilbo, I am not here to go on such a Quest.  I came to offer my
counsel on such a thing, not volunteer my skills.  Besides, Dol Guldur
has awakened, and my woods are in danger.  I cannot linger here much
longer; my kingdom needs its King."

Bilbo nodded in understanding.  "Then I wonder who Lord Elrond will
ask..."

Thranduil sighed.  He knew.  He knew Elrond was right.  Legolas was
the only logical choice, Bilbo had made that clear to him.  But,
Thranduil was an Elf filled with pride and it was that pride that kept
him from rushing to Elrond in that moment of realization and
apologizing for hurting his bonded.

No, he would wait for Elrond to come to him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

But Elrond did not come to him.  Not even after the formal
announcement of the Fellowship.  Suddenly, everything became terribly
real for the Elven King.  It was no longer some unspecified date that
would send his son away; now it was a mere seven days before Legolas
would depart.  Thranduil feared all the more for his child's life, and
he sank into a dreadful melancholy at the thought that he would lose
Legolas in the coming struggle.

Imladris was asleep for the most part, but Thranduil sat alone in a
corner of the library.  The candle beside him had dwindled down to
almost nothing, throwing long, flickering shadows against the
bookshelves.  He had long ago given up the pretense of reading; now,
he merely stared at the wall, unmoving, unblinking.  The thought
consumed him: "When all has come to pass, will there even be a body
for me to lay to rest?"

The creak of the door being pushed open startled Thranduil from his
brooding.  He turned his chair and noticed that he was no longer
alone.  The figure started as he noticed the Sinda.  "I'm sorry.  I
didn't realize anyone was in here."

Thranduil recognized the voice.  "Melpomaen?"

"King Thranduil?" the Noldo replied, surprised.  Melpomaen had been a
liaison to Imladris in the Mirkwood court for over a century, but that
was over five hundred years ago.  He had even been the King's sometime 
lover during that time.  They had come together several times during 
his stay, not out of love, but merely from simple affection, desire,
mutual admiration, and loneliness.  Neither had ever read more into
their arrangement than was there, or wished for more than they had,
and their last parting had been on pleasant terms.

Thranduil turned around more fully and Melpomaen stepped into the dim
light of the library, closing the door.  He saw that his old friend
was barely dressed, only a simple dressing gown hanging open and a
pair of thread-bare leggings.  His long dark hair was loose and
slightly mussed, and his slender feet were bare and paying no heed to
the cool stone floor.

Melpomaen cleared his throat uncomfortably, aware of his unkempt
appearance.  "I... was just coming to return this book before I went
to sleep.  I know that if I didn't do it now, I would forget by the
morning.  You know how I am; how long did it take me to learn the way
from my bedchambers to your throne room?"

Thranduil chuckled, in spite of himself.  "Well, to be fair, you were
being constantly confused, since more than once, you had to find your
way there from *my* bedchambers."

"Well, yes, there *was* that."  The Advisor shelved the leather-bound
tome and turned back toward the Mirkwood King.  "I don't know whether
to congratulate you or offer you my sympathies.  About Legolas, I
mean," he hastily amended.

"To be honest, I'm not certain myself," Thranduil said, a world-weary
fatigue evident in his voice.

Melpomaen's heart ached to see his former lover in such pain.  He
stepped lightly across the room and sat in a chair near Thranduil.  He
placed a hand on Thranduil's knee and asked, "Want to talk?"

"What's there to say?"

"You're afraid you're going to lose him."  It wasn't a question.

"How can I not be?  The last time the Enemy was in power, I lost a
father.  Shall I be forced to lose a son as well?"

"I wish I knew what to say to comfort you in your need, meldir."

Thranduil placed his hand on Melpomaen's.  "We never needed words
before."

"No, but now you are with Lord Elrond, and I would not betray him."

"I fear there is precious little left to betray, saelbeth."

"Even so, King Thranduil, what you are suggesting..."

Melpomaen never got a chance to finish his thought, because at that
moment, Thranduil leaned forward across the space between them and
kissed the Noldo deeply.  Melpomaen had not taken a lover for quite
some time, and the sudden closeness of the Mirkwood King unleashed a
flood of sense-memories that overwhelmed the Advisor, and he knew that
he was lost.

*****

The pair burst through the door of Thranduil's quarters in a tangled
mass of limbs.  Melpomaen's dressing gown hit the ground first,
followed by Thranduil's robe and tunic.  The Mirkwood King fumbled
with the ties on Melpomaen's leggings until the Advisor reached down,
gripped the fabric with both hands, and ripped.  The fabric split down
the middle and drifted to the floor as rags.

The two Elves fell onto the bed, and Thranduil immediately moved to
devour Melpomaen's quivering erection.  Melpomaen gasped in surprise
and pleasure, coaxing Thranduil's legs up toward his head.  He pulled
the ties on the King's leggings loose with ease and pulled the
breeches down, sucking Thranduil's firm cock into his mouth in one
motion.

Thranduil moaned against Melpomaen's rod, and the sensations caused
the Noldo to do the same.  The two Elves drew each other's arousals
deeper into their mouths, groaning in unison.  Thranduil's mouth
plunged down again and again in a feverish pace, while Melpomaen held
Thranduil deep against the back of his throat and played his tongue
along the shaft, paying special attention to the soft spot on the
underside of the swollen head.

The Mirkwood King rolled Melpomaen onto his back, climbing on top of
the dark-haired Elf.  He continued to pump his mouth up and down on
Melpomaen's cock as he also began to thrust down into the Advisor's
mouth.  Melpomaen hungrily accepted the Sinda's rod with great
slurping noises as his mouth watered in anticipation.

Thranduil had other plans, though.  He rolled off of Melpomaen,
releasing the Noldo's staff from his mouth.  Before Melpomaen could
protest, though, Thranduil moved the Advisor onto his stomach, then
gripped his hips and pulled him onto his hands and knees.  The blond
moved behind Melpomaen, caressing the skin of his former lover's
backside.  He spread Melpomaen's cheeks with his hands and dipped his
head down, pressing his tongue flat against the puckered flesh of
Melpomaen's rear entrance.

Melpomaen gasped and shuddered at the sudden contact.  He felt
Thranduil's tongue lightly brushing all around the crevasse of his
buttocks, and he shivered in desire.  The tip of that talented tongue
tracked its way down to the base of Melpomaen's balls, and the Noldo
moaned.  Thranduil flicked his tongue across the orbs briefly before
drawing his tongue back up to the tight orifice.  He pushed his tongue
against the opening and felt the muscle give way as Melpomaen gave a
pleasured sigh and allowed Thranduil entrance.

Thranduil worked his tongue deeper into Melpomaen, remembering how the 
Noldo had been enraptured of the sensation the first time that 
Thranduil had shown him this particular trick.  He remembered
Melpomaen's scent, the feel of his skin, and the taste of his lips.
It had all come back to him in an instant, those memories he had not
dwelt upon for centuries.  He could close his eyes and pretend that he
was back in Mirkwood and almost a millennium in the past, with no
thought or concern of the morning or of anyone else's feelings but his
own and his current partner's.

The Elven King had long ago gotten into the practice of keeping a
container of a sweet-scented oil near his bed, even when he traveled.
It was for this bottle that he reached, retrieving it from the bedside
table.  He poured a little on Melpomaen's behind, letting the slick
substance run sensually between his cheeks before spreading the liquid
with his fingers.  Melpomaen's rear had been gently opened by
Thranduil's tongue already, so the dark-haired Advisor felt only
pleasure as the Sinda slipped first one finger, then a second down
into the tight passage.  He worked his fingers expertly, coaxing
Melpomaen into an even more heightened state of arousal.  The Noldo
rocked his hips, thrusting back onto Thranduil's fingers, his hand
flying to his own cock and stroking it slowly but firmly.

Thranduil removed his fingers and poured more of the oil into the palm
of his hand, which he then worked into the tight skin of his straining
erection.  He braced against Melpomaen's hips with one hand and used
the other to gently guide his cock into the Advisor's waiting
entrance.

Melpomaen hissed slightly at the intrusion, but forced himself to
relax and gradually worked Thranduil's ample shaft all the way inside
him.  Thranduil paused once he was inside the tight vessel, giving
Melpomaen's body a chance to adjust and for the small amount of pain
to recede.  He did not have to ask Melpomaen when he was ready; the
Sinda knew this Elf's body well enough to simply *know*.  When he was
certain that Melpomaen was prepared, Thranduil began to thrust his
slick cock into Melpomaen's tight sheath in a slow, easy rhythm.

The Noldo was already gasping for breath between quiet moans when
Thranduil began thrusting.  Melpomaen pushed his hips back as the
Sinda pushed forward, meeting Thranduil's thrust with a satisfying
slap of flesh-on-flesh and burying the Mirkwood King's shaft deep
inside of him.  His cock twitched in his hand with every thrust,
sending even more pleasing tingles shooting through his body.

Despite their best efforts, the act was over sooner than either of
them would have liked.  Knowing each other's bodies as well as they
did was a curse as well as a blessing, especially when neither of them
had shared a bed with another in quite some time.  Thranduil gritted
his teeth when he got that light-headed feeling that signaled his
release was near.  He thought for a moment about stopping until he
regained some control, but the familiarity of the contact and the
intensity of the pleasure were simply too great, and he allowed
himself to be consumed by the fire of orgasm, calling out the
Advisor's name as he sent a stream of liquid heat shooting into
Melpomaen's tender opening.

Melpomaen pressed himself back against Thranduil's hips as the Sinda
filled him.  His hand jerked up and down furiously, and the Noldo gave
an answering call of Thranduil's name as his body convulsed in orgasm.
The milky-white fluid spurted from his pulsing organ onto the
bedclothes as his movements contracted around Thranduil's cock, which
only added to the pleasure of Melpomaen's release.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elrond moved slowly through the halls.  He had not slept that night,
just sat by his favorite waterfall and thought.  He had decided he
needed to do as he decided weeks ago, talk to Thranduil and reconcile.
He missed him terribly.  So, just before dawn, Elrond began his walk
to Thranduil's rooms.

As he came around the corner that turned into the family wing, he
stopped short.  His eyes grew wide and his breath came fast.  He could
not believe it.

Thranduil stood just outside his door, wearing the emerald silk
dressing gown Elrond had given him three winters ago.  His love was
smiling, his hand caressing the skin of his dark-haired advisor.
Melpomaen was wearing one of Thranduil's other dressing gowns, his
face flushed and his eyes slightly glazed.

Thranduil said something to the Elf, Melpomaen nodded and smiled
wistfully.  Elrond felt faint when Thranduil leaned in and kissed his
trusted friend, softly and thoroughly.  There was no mistake why the
two Elves were in the state of dress they were in or why Melpomaen was
slinking out of the King's rooms just as dawn broke.

When the kiss broke, Melpomaen quickly scurried down the hallway in
the opposite direction of where Elrond stood.  He watched as Thranduil
waited for the Noldo to have disappeared from sight before he returned
to his room.  It was when he turned that he saw his lover, frozen and
wide-eyed, at the mouth of the hallway.  Their eyes met -- sated, sad
emeralds clashing with betrayed, raging silver.

Elrond did the only thing he could think to do.  He promptly turned
and made his way back to his library.  He could not handle this right
now, not with everything else going wrong with their world.  It was to
his retreating back that he heard the emotionless, defeated thought
from his lover, and only one thought, before he silenced Thranduil and
barred him from his mind.

/It was not his fault, Elrond./

*****

Thranduil settled into the seat of his mount.  His heart was heavy, he
felt dirty and wrong.  And he knew he was.  He had betrayed Elrond
just as he always thought Elrond had betrayed him.  What hurt the most
was that Elrond had blocked Thranduil from him.  He took only a small
comfort in the fact that they were bonded and that they *would* work
through this.

He hoped.

Until then, he had a kingdom to rule, Elves to protect, and a son to
mourn.  The squeezed his knees and his stallion obeyed, moving quickly
through the main gates to the Last Homely House.  He told no one he
was leaving, although he was sure Elrond knew.  Elrond knew all that
went on in his lands.

For now, it was over.

*****

Elrond finished his correspondence and sighed heavily.  His eyes
watched the retreating figure of his lover.  Thranduil was running
again.  He shouldn't have expected much else from the great King, but
he was disappointed that Thranduil hadn't even attempted to speak with
him.

Wait, that wasn't fair.  Thranduil had and he had refused to hear him.
The blocking of his mind to his love was a finality to Thranduil.
Elrond would not hear him, would not understand, and he was right --
the Lord of Imladris wouldn't.  Not yet.

He looked up when the door opened and Melpomaen slinked in.  He looked
tired and worn, guilt written across his features.  His Advisor did
not know Elrond knew of the night's activities and he wanted to see if
his long-time friend would come clean about it.

"Good morning, Melpomaen," he said, smiling sadly.

Melpomaen looked at the floor, wringing his hands.  "Good morning, my
Lord."  Melpomaen's voice, which was usually deep and soft, was harsh
and broken this morning.  It concerned Elrond.  Thranduil said
Melpomaen was not to be blamed, and he found he could not blame his
employee for the indiscretion.  He knew deep down it was Thranduil's
actions, not Melpomaen's, that hurt him.

"Is something wrong?  You look pale, meldir."

Melpomaen finally met the compassionate grey gaze of Elrond's, his
eyes swimming with unshed tears.  "I'm sorry, my Lord.  I have done
you a terrible wrong," he whispered.

Elrond rose from his seat and came to stand in front of the dark-
haired Elf.  "What is it, Melpomaen?"

"I have spent the night in King Thranduil's bed," he said simply.

Elrond nodded.  "I know."

Melpomaen took in a sharp breath when Elrond embraced him lightly.  "I
do not blame you, Melpomaen.  What has happened shall be dealt with
between Thranduil and I.  Do not be so hard on yourself."

"But--"

"No, it is over."  He pulled back from the embrace.  "Take this day
off, there is not much to do here; Erestor and I can handle the office
this day."  Elrond returned to his seat, picking up his quill again.

Melpomaen began to walk out of the room, dazed and confused, when
Elrond's voice stopped him once again.

"Why you, Melpomaen?"  A simple question and one the Advisor really
didn't want to answer.

"While I was the Imladris Advisor in Mirkwood for a century, long ago,
His Majesty and I shared his bed on many occasions."  He kept his back
to his Lord, not wanting to see his face.

"Were you in love?"

"No, it was never more than a meeting of two lonely Elves who took
great pleasure and comfort in one another for a short period of time."

Elrond nodded, distancing himself from this revelation.  "You may go,
Melpomaen.  And do not worry about running into the fair King.  He has
taken his leave of Imladris."

And me, he thought sadly, returning to his work as his Advisor left
him alone.

End "Hear Me Out"

Elvish/English translations:
Seron vell : Dear lover (beloved)
Saelbeth : Wise one

Completed: 11/04/2003
Revised: 11/23/2003

---

Series: One Step Closer Trilogy
Title: Whirlwind
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hamena.org
Fandom: LOTR
Archive: Any, so long as I know where it is  ^^
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Glorfindel/Erestor
Timeline: October 25 - December 25 3018 TA
Spoilers:  None
Summary: Glorfindel is concerned that Legolas has been chosen for the
Quest of the One Ring.  Erestor attempts to keep the Balrog-slayer
calm, but Glorfindel knows his control is wearing thin.
A/N: This came about because of an innocent... I assume *laughs*...
email from Morgana about "The Color of Love Trilogy" and asked about a
sequel for "Thought You Were History".  I thought about it and agreed
that the stories were not complete and chose to create 2 more arcs,
making a trilogy of trilogies.  The 3 fics in this arc are inspired by 
Linkin Park's music.  I hope everyone enjoys it.

---

Erestor watched Elrond's eyes return to their stormy grey, showing him
that the mental conversation the Elf-lord had been engaging in was
over.  His friend turned a sad smile to the Councilor.  "Thranduil
will arrive within the week.  Please ready his room."

Erestor looked at his friend with an odd expression.  Ready a
room for his Lord's lover?  That made little sense to Erestor.
"Meldir, Thranduil has not used 'his room' in centuries beyond
counting.  He shares your suite."

Leaving the balcony, Elrond sighed.  "Not this time."

Erestor then realized what must have just happened.  The Noldo was old
enough to know what this meant.  The members of the Company had been
decided, and his long-time friend was going to send his lover's son.
His heart ached for what Elrond was about to go through.  But, since
his counsel had not been requested, he was not about to offer it.  He
simply nodded.  "I will go have the room aired out now and locate his
favorite linens."

The Councilor did not bother to summon servants to prepare the King's
room; he was perfectly capable of taking care of it himself.  In
truth, there was really nothing to do but make up the bed.  Erestor
had the room aired out once a week, and Thranduil's preferred
bedclothes were folded at the foot of the large four-poster bed.  No
sense in making things difficult, he reasoned.

Erestor was unfolding the sheet when he was enveloped from behind by
two strong and very welcome arms.  "I thought I heard you in here,"
Glorfindel purred in his ear.

"I was being quiet," Erestor replied, settling back against his
lover's chest.

Glorfindel smirked.  "I know.  The silent sound of efficiency was
deafening."

Erestor hit Glorfindel playfully on the arm.  "Make yourself useful.
Help me make the bed."

The Seneschal kissed Erestor on the neck, making the Noldo shiver,
before releasing him and walking to the other side of the bed and
taking the other corner of the sheet.  They worked in silence for a
few moments, then Glorfindel looked around, seeming to truly *see* the
room for the first time.

"Don't we usually reserve this room for Thranduil?"

"Yes," Erestor replied simply.

"We're not putting anyone else in here, are we?"

"No."

"And Thranduil isn't going to be staying with Elrond?"

"No."

"What happened?"

Erestor hesitated, briefly, then decided to be honest.  "Legolas."

The Elda's eyes widened.  "He's sending *Legolas* on this insanity?!"

"That's how it appears."

"Son of an Orc," Glorfindel swore.  "I'll go talk to him."

"I don't think it will do any good, meleth.  Just help me finish
this."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Glorfindel screamed in a sudden fit of
anger.  "Damn you, don't you see what he's doing?!"

Erestor actually backed away a step, suddenly afraid of his love,
despite the bed that separated them.  The motion caused Glorfindel to
rethink himself.  The Seneschal clenched his eyes shut for a moment
and shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just a little on edge."

"I understand.  The One Ring -- here in Imladris.  It's enough to make
anyone jumpy.  Especially you."

"I... think I'll just go lie down," Glorfindel mumbled with a fair
amount of shame and embarrassment flooding his voice.  He left the
room
as silently as he arrived, leaving a stunned Erestor to finish up
Thranduil's bed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The week had passed with relative peace, with Glorfindel avoiding
Elrond as much as he could.

The Seneschal rode at the head of the small guard doing the morning
rounds checking the Imladris border.  Once they had done the sweep and
began the ride back to the house, Glorfindel let his mind wander over
the past decade.

He felt out of place, he felt as if something had shifted in him and
it frightened him.  He had a rage he never thought he could have.  The
Elda would find himself seething, wishing to strike someone, saying
things he would never had said in his previous years.  Glorfindel
would find himself hurting those he loved the most.

Those like Erestor.  The dark-eyed love was the center of most of
Glorfindel's outbursts.  He had yet to strike or truly harm his lover,
but he had come too close for the blond Elf's comfort.  He was afraid
he would seriously harm someone.  And from his previous tantrums, it
looked like the most likely Elf that would be forced to endure that
final madness would be Erestor.

They had been together for several centuries, and Glorfindel had
originally attributed his short temper to the monogamy.  He had never
held such an exclusive relationship before.  Erestor had even
mentioned officially bonding to one another, but Glorfindel refused --
not while he felt so out of control.  He wanted Erestor to always have
a way out, a way away from him and his insanity.

That was what it felt like: a slow descent into dementia.  For the
most part, he was balanced and in control.  But, there were other
times when he would lost all grip on himself and he would irrationally
lash out.  He would suddenly feel as if he were drowning in jealousy
or in paranoia, the two main emotions that triggered the violence in
him when it came to Erestor.

Glorfindel's attentions were brought from his internal struggle by the
eldest Peredhel twin, who was trying to get him to converse.

"Thranduil will arrive tonight?"  The question was innocent enough.

Just being reminded of the Mirkwood Elf brought home the betrayal he
felt by Elrond in the Lord choosing his lover's son.  That storm that
had been dormant in him the past week awoke with a new fury.  The only
being close to him at that moment, though, was the Half-Elf he had
always seen as the son he could never have.  With a phenomenal effort,
Glorfindel reined in his irrational anger and was able to respond with
a clipped, "So we were told."

"Is there something on your mind?"

Through clenched teeth: "No.  Nothing."

Blessedly, Elladan realized that Glorfindel was in a less-than-
pleasant mood and wished not to be disturbed.  He did not even speak
to let the Balrog-slayer know that he'd heard Thranduil approaching;
instead, he used the gesturing "language" that he and Elrohir had
developed while on the trail of roving packs of Orcs.  Elrond had been
so impressed by it that he'd ordered all border patrols to learn it,
starting with his Seneschal.

Glorfindel gave the "acknowledged" signal with a huff and moved to
take up an escort position for Thranduil.  He did not speak on the
journey back to the stables, merely bolstered his reserves against the
confrontation that he could feel approaching.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The conversation with Thranduil went better than he expected, which is
to say, no one was killed in an insane fit of anger.  After the Elven
King met with Elrond, he had pretty much kept to himself these past
two weeks, which suited Glorfindel just fine.  The Seneschal tried to
go about his daily business as smoothly as possible, but he was now
constantly battling his desire to just jump up and strangle someone.

Erestor was his safe haven, though.  Elrond's Councilor accepted him
unconditionally, never judging him or pressing him for answers that
Glorfindel just didn't have.  No matter how trying a day he had, the
Elda could always melt into Erestor's arms and let the dark-haired
beauty take it all away.

More than once, the consolation gave way to gentle lovemaking, much as
it had done this night.  After talking Glorfindel down from his most
recent bout of ... whatever it was he was going through, the Noldo was
running his fingers through the blond's hair when Glorfindel sat up
and kissed him in thanks.  The kiss had deepened, hands began to roam,
and all thoughts of the outside world were forgotten.

At the end of a blur of fondling and kissing, Erestor sat on the bed
naked, bent onto his hands and knees while Glorfindel slowly made love
to him from behind.  The Elda's hands were cool against his skin as
they held him, and Erestor's head drooped, his breathing punctuated by
soft moans and delicate sighs.

Glorfindel massaged Erestor's pale behind as he slid his shaft in and 
out of the tight opening.  He was patting one of the Noldo's cheeks 
when his balance shifted, and his hand came down a little rougher than 
he'd intended.  When Erestor moaned, though, Glorfindel experimentally 
gave the other cheek a slight smack.  The Councilor gave another moan 
of pleasure, and Glorfindel continued, randomly spanking Erestor every 
two or three thrusts.  The feeling sent shivers through his cock 
since Erestor would tense up with each smack, tightening the muscle 
around Glorfindel's rod.

The intensity of the spanks grew, and soon Erestor's rear was being
pummelled with loud, powerful strikes that made his skin tingle and
sting.  The sensations had been pleasurable at first, but now his skin 
was beginning to ache from the punishment.  He had trouble drawing in
enough breath to speak or even cry out, though; the continual
onslaught was certainly taking its toll, but Glorfindel felt so good
inside him that he was torn between the pleasure and the pain.
Erestor didn't find his voice again until a particularly strong blow
went awry and struck his hipbone, sending a jarring pain through his
whole body.

"Ai!  That one hurt!" he cried out.

Glorfindel did not respond, did not even seem to hear.

He tried again.  "Please stop that, meleth; it's really starting to
hurt."

Again, nothing.

"Glorfindel, I'm not joking, you're hurting me!"

Erestor felt the Elda's hands on his back and breathed a sigh of
relief.  The moment was short-lived, though, when he felt his head
jerked up and back.  Glorfindel had taken hold of Erestor's long, dark
hair and pulled with the force of reining in a steed.  Erestor's
throat strained to take in air against the pressure, and his eyes
filled with tears.  Almost immediately, Erestor felt Glorfindel's cock
throb inside him and the heat of his orgasm spilling forth and filling
him.  He choked back a sob, his sight began to blur from the pain and
lack of breath, and his neck muscles screamed in protest at being bent
the wrong way.

When Glorfindel's release had finally subsided, Erestor's head snapped
back against the bed as the Elda relinquished his grip with a start.
"By the Valar," Erestor heard him whisper, "what did I do?"

Glorfindel looked down at the mottled mass of redness and rapidly
forming bruises that criss-crossed Erestor's behind.  He covered his
mouth with a hand to muffle his cry of shock.  "I'm sorry, melethron!"
he suddenly exclaimed, pulling out roughly and backing away from the
bed in horror.  "I'm so very sorry!"

Erestor rolled onto his side, gingerly, as his buttocks were now in
great pain, and held out his hand to his lover.  "Shh, shh,
Glorfindel," he said in the most comforting voice he could manage.
"It's okay.  We've never done this before.  It was very nice; it just
started to hurt after a while."

"No, no," Glorfindel said, sobbing as he fell back against the wall
and slid down to the floor.  "You don't understand, I wanted to *hurt*
someone.  I wanted to hurt *you*!"

Erestor got out of the bed and knelt beside the Elda, wrapping his
arms around Glorfindel and cradling him to his chest.  "I don't know
what's happening, seron vell, but we'll get through it together, I
swear."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Erestor was busy in his small office when Elladan came into the room. 
The Peredhel must have just returned from his extended patrol; he was
still in riding leathers and was road-weary.  But more than that, he
looked meek, which was odd for the eldest twin.  Erestor stopped
writing his letter to Lord Celeborn and stood up.  "Is something
wrong, Elladan?"

Elladan was always amazed at the cool, even tones of his old tutor's
melodic voice.  The dark eyes always spoke of wisdom, age and cold,
calculating precision.  Erestor made chills go down his spine, so
different from Glorfindel.  "Can I speak with you frankly, Erestor?"

Erestor's expression softened slightly when he realized how anxious
Elladan was.  "Of course, pen-neth."

"I think something is wrong with Glorfindel."

Erestor sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.  He had hoped to
keep this change in attitude to just himself and his lover.  "How do
you mean?"

Elladan chewed the inside of his cheek a moment, trying to find the
right words.  "These past weeks, he's become edgy.  He snaps at
Elrohir and I over the smallest things.  He nearly brought Elrohir to
tears last week during one of the training sessions.  He seems...
darker, angry all the time."  Shining silver-grey eyes met his ink
black ones and Erestor knew how upset Elladan was.  "And then, on the
patrol...  I just gave my report to Ada, but I didn't tell him
everything.  I wanted to talk to you first.  Erestor, I found myself
becoming *afraid* of him."

"I know," the Councilor said simply, sighing deeply.  Elladan opened
his mouth, but Erestor held up a hand to silence him.  "This is
something that Glorfindel is having to work through.  We don't know
what is happening, but it is possible that it is the Ring's closeness
to him."

"Because of the Balrog," Elladan said quietly.  "Because of his
death."

"Yes.  As you can imagine, it is quite a painful subject for him, so I
would appreciate it if you not speak to anyone else -- especially
Glorfindel -- about his troubles or this conversation."

Elladan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  It wasn't like the Noldo to
be so detached when speaking to the twins, his pupils. "You're worried
about him, aren't you?"

For a moment, the strong front that Erestor was putting up crumbled,
and Elladan saw the hurt and fear just behind the Councilor's eyes.
"Desperately," Erestor whispered.

The elder Peredhel walked to Erestor and clasped him firmly by the
shoulders.  "He's strong.  Whatever it is, he'll overcome."

*****

The muted clang of dulled training blades rang out across the field
as Glorfindel and Gildor traded an extended series of volleys and
feints.  The past four days out on the patrol had been extremely
taxing on the Seneschal, and the best way he knew to unwind was with a
friendly sparring match.  The old Noldo had been happy to oblige, and
so far, the two seemed equally matched.  For the better part of an
hour, neither had been able to land a blow.

"You seem distracted," Gildor said offhandedly.  "Usually, you'd be
two touches up on me by now.  That cushy Seneschal position dulling
your warrior's edge?" he joked.

Glorfindel parried automatically, returning with a textbook
counterattack that Gildor spotted easily.  The Elda registered
suddenly that his opponent had said something.  "What?  Oh, yes, I
suppose I am."

"So much the better for me, then!" the dark-haired Elf replied
jovially.

"Really?" Glorfindel replied with a touch of his old self.  "Then why
are we still tied at zero?"

"Because my Uncle Maedhros was a better fighter than he was a
teacher," Gildor replied with a playful gleam in his eye.  He broke
off his latest attack and stepped back, making a show of transferring
his sword from his left to his right hand.  When the Noldo reengaged,
Glorfindel was instantly pushed to the defensive and all distractions
were chased from his mind as he frantically parried, looking for an
opening.

Suddenly, he saw one.  Gildor's left side was wide open.  He committed
his attack, and immediately knew he'd been duped.  It was an obvious
ploy, and had the Seneschal been fully alert, he would never have
fallen for it.  Gildor spun quickly, blocking Glorfindel's blade from
the inside.  Before the Elda could retaliate, Gildor reversed his
strike and scored a thorough hit against Glorfindel's exposed chest,
dancing away before the blond recovered.

Gildor's laughter was cut short by Glorfindel's enraged howl.
Glorfindel rushed the Noldo, blade firmly in both hands.  Gildor's
good humor evaporated into a sudden fear as he was driven back again
and again by the Seneschal's powerful swings.  He had the sudden
realization that Glorfindel wasn't faking this; he was after Gildor in
earnest.

Gildor did not want to hurt Glorfindel, but he was rapidly running out
of options as his advances were repeatedly beaten back.  Finally, he
picked his shot.  Gripping his sword tightly, he pointed the tip
straight up and moved to club the Elda on the side of the head with
the hilt.  It should have worked, but Glorfindel, in his fit, seemed
possessed with the speed and power of the Valar.  He spun in toward
Gildor, blocking the Noldo's elbow with his forearm and smashing his
elbow back into Gildor's face.

But Glorfindel didn't stop moving.  He reversed direction, planting
his left foot just in front of his right and pivoting toward Gildor's
sword arm.  He disarmed the Elf by shoving his shoulder into Gildor's
wrist and used the momentum to push the dark-haired elf backward.  At
the same time, he hooked his right foot around Gildor's ankles and
swept the Noldo to the ground.

The entire exchange took less than two seconds.

Gildor shook his dazed head and looked up from his unglamorous
position on the ground.  "Okay, Glorfindel, I yield," he said, forcing
a laugh, even though his chest still ached from the impact.

Glorfindel did not accept the surrender; he gave no sign that he'd
even heard at all.  He stepped beside Gildor, braced his left hand on
the bottom of the sword, and drove the dulled point of the blade
straight down toward the Noldo's chest.

Gildor barely had time to react.  He clapped his hands together,
trapping the flat of the blade between his palms.  Had the sword been
sharp, he would likely have lost fingers in the maneuver.  The Elda
kept pushing down, trying to break Gildor's grip.  Knowing that even
a dulled point would impale him with the force that Glorfindel was
using, Gildor tried desperately to get through to the entranced
Seneschal.

"Glorfindel, I yield!  It's *over*!"  Gildor knew his voice was
quivering and weak.  He was literally begging for his life, something
that an Elf, especially an Elf of the House of Finrod, would never
conceive of doing.  It was interesting how certain circumstances could
lay waste to Ages of preconceptions.  "Damn you, Glorfindel, you've
made your point!  Stop this!"

The Elda froze, blinking several times as though taking stock of his
surroundings.  He looked down at Gildor and a look of horror appeared
on his face.  Glorfindel tossed the training sword away and ran, full-
speed, into the woods beyond the sparring field.  He ran blindly,
trying to outrun demons that lay deep in his own heart.  As the woods
of Imladris flew by him in a blur, Glorfindel's mind became a
whirlwind of thoughts, memories of the weeks past.

It had all begun with his temper, his anger becoming harder to keep in
check.  Rougher training sessions, harsher scolding of the house
staff.  Glorfindel dodged a tree and effortlessly avoided a large
fallen branch.  Then, when he had found out Thranduil was to arrive,
he had lashed out at Erestor.

Once Thranduil had arrived, though, things just slipped.  He snapped
at Elladan all the time, sometimes yelling at the young Peredhel in
the halls when they met.  Then the training session with Elrohir.

He had hurt the young twin.  Not physically, but he had humiliated him
in front of his brother and his comrades.  He had called him names
and beaten his self-esteem, attacking his technique and his training
habits.  The look in those grey eyes, the panic and anguish, had cut
through the fog that would envelope him and he stormed off.  He knew
Elrohir thought it was his fault, but it hadn't been...

Glorfindel panted with his exertion, his muscles screaming for
relief, but he kept running.  The next sign that things were
progressing down a dark path came while he was bathing late one night.
Lindir had come into the bathing chamber to replenish the supplies.
He knew the silver-haired Elf had thought him asleep in the pool, and
he had moved quietly.  His senses, though, were in that dark fog --
almost like smoke -- and he instinctively reached for the dagger he
always kept with him.  It was only at the last moment that his mind
had cleared and he had averted his aim, the blade sinking into the
wooden door frame next to his friend.

Lindir had quickly exited the room and Glorfindel became enraged in
his embarrassment.  He knew he needed help; something was consuming
him, taking him over slowly but surely.  He broke free of the wood and
realized he had run to the end of the lands Elrond claimed as
Rivendell.  For a moment, his mind was still.  He always felt this
pull, this need to leave his home and his family.  He wanted to
journey East.  And he knew what lay East.

So he fought.

Until five nights ago, when he made the swap in the duty roster.  He
had switched himself for Elrohir on the extended patrol for a reason.
He had awakened to find himself straddling his sleeping lover's
form... a blade pressed dangerously close to the pale neck covered in
dark, silken hair.

He had to get away.  Away from all he loved.  He had mutilated the
Orcs they had found, taking out his rage and hatred.  He knew he
scared his men, the fear was clear enough in Elladan's eyes.  But, he
needed the release.  Peace only came for a few short hours.

Now he had almost killed Gildor.  He could not risk this any longer.
He needed help.  He would speak with Elrond as soon as he could.
After the Fellowship left, he would seek out his friend, his Healer,
and beg him to rid his heart and soul of this darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Erestor made his way quickly through the winding halls of the Last
Homely House.  Glorfindel had been avoiding him for the past few
weeks, never sleeping in their bed and never speaking to him unless
there was at least one other person in the room.  He missed his lover
and wanted to know just what he had done to upset the Elda.

Lindir had let Erestor know that Glorfindel had finally returned to
their chambers for something and Erestor took this chance head on.  He
needed answers.

The dark-haired Elf swept into the room he had occupied with
Glorfindel for so long and silently latched the door.  Standing by the
wardrobe was the blond Elf, swiftly packing a bag.

"Going somewhere?" Erestor asked with an icy edge to his voice.  He
was sick of this game.

Glorfindel started and looked at the Noldo with wide, frightened blue
eyes.  "Yes.  I thought I would stay in one of the guest rooms for a
few weeks."  He continued to stuff clothing into the pack.

"Were you planning on informing me that our living arrangement was
going to change?  Or was I to find out from Gildor or Lindir?"

The Balrog-slayer threw the pack down and turned on the Councilor.
"Erestor, we have made no pledge to one another, no promises!  I need
space, I need to just... be away from you!" he cried out.

Erestor felt a lump form in his throat.  "Glorfindel, if this is about
that night... I told you, it was all right."

"No!  This isn't about that night.  Well, yes it is, as well as a
number of other things!"  Glorfindel looked at his lover pledingly.
"I need to be as far from you as possible, meleth.  You," he said
quietly, "bring out the worst in me, it seems."

The Imladris Lord gasped, recoiling as if he had been struck.
"Glorfindel!  How can you *say* such a thing?!  The worst in you?  I
have hardly been around you!  You have this whole household on their
guard, everyone short of Elrond is terrified of you.  Please," he
begged.  "Please, tell me what is happening."

Glorfindel's shoulders sagged in defeat.  "I do not know, Erestor.
All I know is I need to move out of this room... before I hurt you."

Erestor advanced on Glorfindel, holding out his hand to him.  "You
would not hurt me, my Lord.  You never have.  Why should you start
now?"

The Elda took a few step away from Erestor, feeling trapped as his
back came in contact with the cold stone of the wall.  "Erestor, stay
away from me."  He hissed when the cool hand of his long-time lover
touched his hip.  "I am not myself!" he hollered.  Erestor's grip
tightened and the fog returned to Glorfindel's mind.

He was trapped.  He was angry.  Why wouldn't he back off?!  Why
wouldn't he leave him be?  He needed away, he needed to run from him,
run from the suffocating room.  He acted instinctively.

His right hand swung from its position at his thigh, swinging high and
with terrible force.  He connected with Erestor's jaw, the momentum of
the impact sending the shocked Noldo flying across the room, landing
on his rear.  Erestor's hand flew up to his face, tears threatening to
spill from his huge, liquid eyes.

Glorfindel took a step toward him, dread and shame clouding his
features.  "Erestor, I-"

The proud Councilor, who had fought beside the Balrog-slayer and the
Lord of Imladris in Eregion, at Dagorlad and at the Siege of Barad-
dur, recoiled from his lover and scrambled back away from him.  
"Leave, Glorfindel of Gondolin.  Leave this room and do not come 
back."

Erestor was surprised at the even tone of his voice when he could
barely hold back the tears of pain and heartbreak at being struck by
someone he thought he could trust with his life.  Glorfindel nodded
once, grabbed his pack and left the room.  Erestor got up slowly, his
head still reeling from the blow, and calmly walked into his bathing
chamber, latching it once he was safely inside.

*****

On his way out the door, Glorfindel had run into the twins.  He
instructed them to aid Erestor, not telling them why the Councilor
would need their help.  After he left them, though, he headed for
Elrond's study.  This could not wait anymore.

He burst through the door, shocking the Elf-lord who regarded him with
a wary expression.

"Glorfindel?"  The Seneschal was pale, all blood and warmth lost from
his face.  He was breathing quickly, his eyes wide with fear.  "What
has happened, meldir?"  Elrond approached him, but Glorfindel shied
away, shaking his head.

"Do not come near me, my Lord.  I have just sent Erestor across the
room of our quarters after he placed his hand on me."  Glorfindel took
in a shuddering breath.  "Elrond, something is terribly wrong with me.
I feel a darkness, a black nothingness that is consuming me -- mind,
heart and soul.  Please, you *must* help me!"

Elrond came closer to Glorfindel.  "I need to touch you, I need to
sense what it is in you before I can even begin to help.  Will you
allow me to?"

For a moment, his old friend looked like a frightened deer, taut as a
bowstring and ready to fly out the door.  Then, he relented, swaying
slightly on his feet, nodding his head.

"Sit, Glorfindel."

The Elda did as instructed, seating himself on the small sofa in the
office.  Elrond simply placed his hand on Glorfindel's head, closing
his eyes for a moment and seeking what was bothering the Elf.

He immediately snatched back his hand, his own eyes wide and panicked.
He sensed frenzied emotions, disjointed thoughts and an anger so deep,
so white-hot that the Peredhel feared for the people he protected.
His friend was not well, his spirit was being lost in a directionless,
coreless evil.

With a voice thick with emotion, he spoke softly.  "I cannot help you,
meldir.  This is beyond my power."

"What am I to do, my Lord?"  Large, sad eyes met his clouded grey
gaze.

He looked so lost, so desperate.  Elrond nodded, deciding the only one
who could advise him would need to be contacted.  He closed his eyes
for a moment, concentrating on the familiar silver glow he knew so
well.  Casting his mind out, he grasped at the cool mind that emanated
knowledge and serenity.  When he opened his eyes, he saw Celeborn's
bedroom, dappled in the late afternoon sunlight.

/Elrond?/

/Yes, my Lord.  I am in need of your counsel./

Elrond could feel Celeborn's immediate apprehension.  The Imladris
Elf rarely used this intimate form of communication with him.  /It
must be dire to Farspeak me, Elrond./

The Peredhel sent a bundle of thoughts and images to the silver Elf-
lord, relaying by thought what was happening in his home.  /I do not
know what to do.  I cannot help him./

In his home in Lothlorien, Celeborn's gaze fell to Haldir, who was
sprawled out across the great bed.  He smiled, his metallic silver
eyes blazing at his lover.  "You must travel the road to Imladris,
melethron," he said slowly.  "You will meet Lord Glorfindel and bring
him here.  He is in need of our help."

The March Warden quickly stood, nodding to his lover and walked out 
of the room.  Celeborn returned his thoughts to Elrond.

/I am sending Haldir to meet Glorfindel.  Send him here, on the main
road, and I will repair what I can.  If I can.  I make no promises,
meldir.  He has a long battle ahead of him, but I will try as best I
can.  Send him now, Haldir has already left./

Celeborn severed the connection and Elrond's eyes cleared.  He looked
down at the forlorn Seneschal.  "Go.  Take Asfaloth and ride hard to
Lorien.  Haldir will meet you along the main road.  Celeborn will help
you, as I cannot."

*****

Elrond entered his Councilor's room to find his sons standing before a
closed door.  Elladan was pleding with the occupant to come out, that
they were there to help him.

"Elladan.  Elrohir.  Leave us."

It was an order, not a request, and the twins quickly vacated the
room.  Elrond sighed, feeling exhausted and worn thin.  He came up to
the door and in a steady, quiet voice said, "Erestor.  Open this
door."

After a moment, the latch withdrew and his old lover slinked out of
the bathing chamber.  Elrond drew in a quick breath.  Erestor's right
cheek was already marked with a hand-sized bruise, spreading from the
top of his cheek bone to the lower portion of his jaw.  The force
Glorfindel had to strike with was incredible.  The Noldo's eyes were
red-rimmed and tear tracks could be seen on the pale face.

"He has been sent to Lothlorien, Erestor.  Celeborn will take care of
him."

Erestor nodded, walking to the bed and seating himself, the blank look
never leaving his eyes.

"Would you like anything?"  A shake of the head.  "Would you like to
compose a letter to be sent to him upon his arrival?"  Another shake
of the head.  Elrond let out an exasperated sigh.  "Erestor, please,
say something."

Erestor looked up at his friend, sniffed slightly, and spoke.  "I
would rather I never saw his face again, my Lord.  I wish to return to
my previous chambers until such time as you travel over the Sea.
Then, I wish to accompany you."

"Meldir, do not be so rash.  There is something wrong with his heart,
he needs time to heal..."  He trailed off as Erestor shook his head.

"No, Elrond.  I can never trust him again.  I cannot... I just cannot.
Will you permit my wishes?"

Reaching up to cup Erestor's unmarked cheek, Elrond nodded solemnly.
"Of course.  I will have Lindir help move your possessions."

Erestor nodded.  "If you don't mind, my Lord, I would like some time
alone.  I do not feel that I will make it to the evening meal.  I hope
you and the twins do not mind."

Elrond stood up and nodded.  "Take all the time you need.  Nothing is
pressing now that the Company has left us and the Quest has begun.
Now, we simply wait.  If you need me, though, you are welcome to come
to my chamber -- day or night."

Erestor nodded.

"My arms, and bed, are still open to you should you need a comforting
presence."

The dark-haired Elf smiled slightly.  To anyone else, that may have
sounded like a proposition.  Erestor knew better.  Elrond was offering
companionship, someone to drive away the nightmares and sadness.
"Thank you, Elrond."

The Healer nodded and slowly left the room.  Erestor looked around,
taking stock of the room and how cold it seemed without Glorfindel's
bright, warm presence.

Then the Councilor hung his head in his hands and silently wept.

End "Whirlwind"

Completed: 11/05/2003
Revised: 11/23/2003

---

Series: One Step Closer Trilogy
Title: I Wanna Heal
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hamena.org
Fandom: LOTR
Archive: Any, so long as I know where it is  ^^
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas
Timeline: October 25 - December 25 3018 TA
Spoilers:  None
Summary: Legolas agrees to go on the Quest with the Fellowship, hoping
to learn about himself and who he is outside of being his father's son
and the Princes of Imladris' lover.  Elladan and Elrohir make their
own discoveries regarding their long-time lover and fear that he will
not return from the Quest.
A/N: This came about because of an innocent... I assume
*laughs*... email from Morgana about "The Color of Love Trilogy" and
asked about a sequel for "Thought You Were History".  I thought about
it and agreed that the stories were not complete and chose to create 2
more arcs, making a trilogy of trilogies.  The 3 fics in this arc are
inspired by Linkin Park's music.  I hope everyone enjoys it.

---

The golden sun cast a warm embrace on the three figures sprawled
across the lawn.  Elladan lay on his back with his long legs bent
slightly.  Elrohir rested his dark head on his brother's belly, eyes
closed as the elder twin stroked the long hair.  Elladan had returned
early from border patrol and still smelled of pine and horse.  Legolas
was laying on his side, facing Elladan with his ear pressed against
Elrohir's chest, his lover's heartbeat lulling him into a comfortable
half-wakeful state.  A gentle breeze tossed his hair about and he felt
laughter bubble in his chest.

The Prince of Mirkwood was never as happy as when the three of them
simply relaxed on one of Imladris' far lawns, basking in the presence
of each other.  After the tension of the Council meeting Elrond had
called a week ago, spending his days out in the air with the Peredhil
twins was a blessing.

Speaking softly, Legolas questioned the twins.  "What are you
thinking?"  He had long ago stopped asking them separately.  If
Elrohir was thinking it, so was Elladan.

"We are concerned about this Quest set before our people."  Legolas
smiled as Elrohir's chest vibrated with his speaking.  "Our largest
concern is that Ada will send one or both of us."

"Do you fear such a quest?"

Elladan shook his head, turning his intense grey gaze on Legolas.
"Not afraid of such a quest, maethorem valthen.  Our worry comes
from leaving you behind to go on such an endeavor."

Legolas smiled faintly at the endearment the twins had called him for
years.  "Maethyren vyrn, your worry is admirable, but please don't.
If your father chooses you for this journey, my blessings go with you.
But, he may ask Lord Glorfindel, as he is an extremely accomplished
warrior and would be invaluable to the Company."

The twins nodded and Elrohir's hand came up to stroke Legolas' hair.
Elrohir's brow furrowed as he thought about the two loves in his life.
He and Elladan had been together since their majority, their love
burning brightly and like no other.  At least, that was what they had
thought, reflected the youngest twin.  Then they had met Legolas.

He had not shared his thoughts with his brother about the depth of his
affection for the Mirkwood Prince.  Elrohir had known for centuries
that the three of them were bound in spirit.  He was always aware of
Legolas, even when the warrior was hundreds of leagues away.  He could
sense his well-being and emotions, but he could not hear his
thoughts... not yet.  Legolas and Elladan had yet to admit the bond,
refused to see the connection.

Elladan was close to seeing it, thought Elrohir.  When Legolas took a
lover the previous summer while in Lothlorien, Elladan had been
furious.  As he was every time the Prince bedded someone other than
them.  But, the structure of their relationship had not altered in the
years since their first night together.  Legolas never spoke of love, 
of lifelong commitment and neither did Elladan.

So, Elrohir allowed them their ignorance.  He knew.  That was all that
mattered to him.  Elladan never understood how his brother could
accept that Legolas had lovers, and Elrohir would just smile softly
and reassure him that Legolas was not abandoning them.  He *always*
came back to the twins.

Elladan's gaze fell on Elrohir.  His brother was thinking, but Elrohir
was actively blocking Elladan from knowing those thoughts.  He had
noticed that Elrohir had begun refusing him complete access from his
thoughts shortly after they had bedded Legolas.  It irked the
Peredhel, wondering what it was that his brother felt he had to *hide*
from him.  It angered him about as much as when had found out that
Haldir had shared Legolas' bed in Lothlorien the previous summer.

/Gwanunig?/ came the hesitant thought from Elrohir.

/You have decided to rejoin me, Elrohir?/  Elladan saw his brother
physically recoil from the acid behind the thought.

/You know I do not keep anything important from you, Elladan./

His eyes narrowed.  /If the topic is not important, why keep me out?/

Elrohir sighed heavily, withdrawing back to his own mind.  He looked
down to the blond Elf on his chest and saw the hurt in the blue eyes.

"I hate that you can speak with one another and I am left outside."

They had had this conversation several times over the course of their
relationship.  The twins tried hard not to Farspeak one another when
their lover was in residence, but it was a natural form of
communication for them that it was hard not to.  Legolas could enjoy
the same intimacy that Farspeech offered, but since he refused to
accept the bond, he was left deaf and silent.  Elrohir had always
wished to see his lover's thoughts, thinking that it might shed some
light on why he kept his distance when it came to permanency.

Legolas sat up suddenly, his heart squeezing tightly in his chest.  No
matter what he told himself, he was always outside what his lovers
shared.  They could never be a whole.

"I have to go," he said simply, rising to his feet.

"Legolas..." Elladan began but stopped as Legolas stormed off toward
his rooms.  That was something else that upset Elladan, Legolas
refused to share their quarters.  He insisted on his own room, whether
he ever slept in there or not.  He turned sad eyes to his brother.

"We've hurt him again, caulen," Elrohir said softly.

Elladan sighed heavily, closing his eyes and silently curing the Valar
for offering them so much but keeping it just out of their reach.

*****

Legolas rushed to his rooms.  He felt like a spoiled Elfling, running
off like Elladan had called him a nasty name.  Legolas couldn't truly
place where his anger came from.  He had been enjoying the company of
his lovers, feeling content and settled for the first time in months,
and then he saw the changing expressions on Elladan's face.  He knew
they were speaking between themselves.

And he felt like an outsider to them.

They had existed before him, and he knew they would exist after he
left.  The bitterness he felt was foreign to him.  The Prince rarely
felt such envy as he did when the twins spoke to each other.  They
seemed to convey so much more by a simple look that he ever could with
his entire being.

It was while he was fuming, feeling sorry for himself, that he caught
sight of a tall blond Elf in the royal colors of Mirkwood.

"Adar?" he called out.

Thranduil turned around, his hand resting on his chamber door.
"Legolas."  His voice was flat and his son could see the sadness that
shadowed his eyes.

"What are you doing here?"  Legolas covered the distance between them,
his brow furrowing in concern.

Thranduil looked Legolas over.  He could see the younger Elf was
agitated, and not because of his father's unannounced visit to the
valley.  Elrond had asked him not to reveal the reason behind his
presence in Imladris, but Thranduil just could not lie to his son.
"Elrond asked for my counsel regarding this quest."

Legolas nodded, then cast another questioning gaze at his father.
"Why are you staying in your rooms, Ada?  I can't remember the last
time you used them..."

This was becoming difficult.  After the argument he had just had with
his lover, Thranduil was loathe to have another one.  He needed to
think quickly or he would offend his son and betray Elrond with the
truth.  "Elrond and I had a disagreement.  You know my temper better
than anyone," he said, smiling fondly at both the blessing and
bane of his existence.  "I desired to be alone for a while, to think
about what was said and reconcile with my actions."

The Elf nodded at the King.  His father had always been wise, even if
he was rash at times.  Legolas had inherited his streak of
recklessness from Thranduil.  He reached out and hugged his father,
inhaling the familiar scent that had comforted him long ago after
nightmares as a child.  "It is good to see you, Ada," he whispered.

Thranduil returned the embrace, smiling despite his sadness.  "What is
it, Greenleaf?  What troubles you so?  Have you had a disagreement
with Elladan and Elrohir?"

Legolas released his father and sighed.  He didn't want to confess his
childish behavior and opted to shake his head.  "No, not really.  I
just felt the need to be alone, as well, Ada.  A nap, perhaps, would
do me good."

Thranduil nodded and quickly embraced his son once more.  "Then rest
well, Legolas.  I will see you at the evening meal."

Legolas nodded and entered his rooms next to his father's.  He
suddenly felt exhausted and a short nap did seem like a good idea to
him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan and Elrohir walked slowly to their rooms, both pondering their
recent conversation with Thranduil.  It had been two weeks since their
spat with Legolas, and the blond had not spoken to them since.  So,
the twins had gone to his father for help.  The King had indeed shed
some light on Legolas' behavior, but neither twin felt any closer to
knowing what to do about the situation.

Elladan sat on their bed, watching his brother remove his cloak and
boots, sighing deeply.  "Elrohir?"

Grey eyes met grey eyes, sadness thrumming between them.  Elrohir came
and sat beside his older brother, folding his legs under him and
looking dejectedly out their window.

"If we hurt him so, gwanunig, why does he continue to return to us
winter after winter?"  Elladan watched his brother's face soften
slightly and the younger Peredhel turned his gaze back to his brother.

"Why?  Elladan, if you stopped being so obtuse and looked into
yourself, you would see why he continues to seek us out."

The room grew silent as Elladan did just that, thought about the
Mirkwood Prince and the depth of his feelings for him.  In that
moment, his eyes grew wide and he let out a small, undignified yelp.
"No!"

"Oh, yes, caulen.  We are.  Have been since the beginning."

"And you never told me?!"  Elladan stood from the bed, his eyes
blazing.  "*This* is what you have been hiding from me!"

Elrohir tried to reach out to his brother, but Elladan yanked his hand
away.  "Elladan, you were no more ready to know of the bond then as
Legolas is now.  You needed the time to realize it, to come to the
conclusion yourself.  I did not *want* to hide it from you..."

Elladan let out a long breath.  "This complicates everything."

Elrohir shook his head.  "It's always been this complicated, but at
least I am not alone in it anymore."

Elladan smiled at his twin, leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on
lips he had savored for centuries.  "No, you're not."

*****

Legolas sat beside Estel in one of the many gardens Imladris had to
offer.  He was happily watching the four Hobbits play a game amongst
themselves.  It was amusing, to say the least.  Every now and again,
they would stop, and he would hear Merry or Pippin cry, "No, Frodo!
You can't tig on a tog!" or something equally unintelligible.  No
matter how many times they tried, he and Estel just could not
understand the rules of the game.  They seemed fluid, as if they were
changing with Frodo's actions.

But, it humored the Elf and the Man, so the Hobbits continued their
game.

"Legolas?  Why is it you are not with Elladan and Elrohir?"  Estel
knew his foster brothers and the son of Thranduil were close friends.
Legolas had been visiting Imladris every other winter since Estel
could remember, always staying close to the twins.  It was odd that
the Prince was here with him and not with them.

The Sinda turned his deep blue eyes to his friend and smiled sadly.
"We had a disagreement, meldir.  I felt it was necessary to spend time
with others before I attempted to repair the damage the spat may have
caused."

Estel nodded, smiling warmly.  "I am honored you chose to spend that
time with us."  Legolas, though kind and gentle, rarely spent time
with the Ranger, preferring the twins', Glorfindel's or Erestor's
company to his or Arwen's.  "Do you need a confidant, Legolas?"

Legolas thought for a few moments, trying to decide his course of
action.  He and Estel had been friends for many years, occasionally
going on hunts together.  He never actively tried to avoid the Man, it
was just that his attentions were so focused on his twins while in
Imladris.  He looked into the open, honest blue-hazel eyes and decided
that he needed to speak with *someone* -- and preferably not one who
was extremely close to him.  "Walk with me, mellonen.  I could use
your counsel."

Estel excused them from the Hobbits, who rushed off with Lindir for a
mid-afternoon meal.  Legolas had never seen such tiny creatures eat so
much and so often.  They walked slowly along one of the many paths
found in the valley, heading to a secluded waterfall and glade Legolas
had found with Elladan long ago.

"What burdens your soul, my Lord?"

The blond Elf looked out over the falls, his heart sore and his
spirit battered.  "Your foster brothers."

Estel nodded.  He had always suspected more than friendship, but this
was the first time any in the party had come out and told him about
the relationship.  "They have harmed you?"

Legolas shook his head.  "No, not harmed me.  Perhaps it is I harming
them... or myself."  He sighed, gracefully folding his legs beneath
him and sitting on the ground.  Estel plopped beside him, with all the
grace of a Man.  "They have a bond, a connection to one another I
could never hope to share.  It leaves me feeling alienated, alone, and
empty.  When they speak with one another in that silent way, my heart
aches with the knowledge that I will not share my thoughts with them.
I have come to care for them, and I know they care for me.  But..."
He drifted off, his confusing thoughts and emotions roiling in him,
making his head ache.

"Are the three of you in love?"

Deep azure eyes met knowing hazel ones.  Legolas snorted softly,
raising an eyebrow.  "In love?  No," he said, looking away.  "I do not
believe the three of us share such an emotion.  In five centuries,
love has never been a topic any one of us have broached."

"But there is obviously a deep affection you each feel for each other.
In all the years I have lived, I have never known my foster brothers
to be promiscuous, handing their favors out to everyone who comes
along."  Estel played with a blade of grass, glancing over at the
sullen Prince.  Silence met his statement and he chose to continue his
line of thought.  "Whatever hurt is between the three of you, I am
certain it can be mended.  My foster brothers are many thing, Legolas,
but cruel they are not.  Nor are they the kind to bear enmity --
especially those they care for."

Legolas nodded slowly.  "Thank you, Estel.  You have been most
helpful."  He stood, stretching slightly.  "I think I will return to
the house.  I will see you at the evening meal."  Legolas turned and
began to stroll away, his thoughts swirling around Estel's words.

"Legolas?" the Man called out, pulling the Prince from those thoughts.
The Elf looked back over his shoulder at his friend.

"Yes, meldir?"

"Keep in mind, there is more to love than just the words."

Legolas smiled softly and bowed his head in respect, leaving Estel to
the soft sounds of the waterfall.  He had to find the twins.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan checked his pack one last time.  He was going on an extended
patrol that night and wanted to make sure he had everything.  It was
one of the few times Glorfindel had not put both Elladan and Elrohir
on the extended patrol together, instead assigning himself to
accompany the elder twin.  Elrohir would remain behind with their
Prince.

The Peredhel winced slightly at the thought of his golden lover.  It
had been over a week since the Elf had returned to their bed,
apologizing for his outburst and avoidance.  It was only in retrospect
that Elladan realized that, though they spoke much that night, they
never truly discussed the heart of Legolas' pain.  Their lover had a
way of making them forget their cares and bury themselves in his body.
This had to stop.

Elladan gathered his cloak and pack and headed from the room he shared
with his twin.  The night was cool, fall was leaving them and early
winter was setting in.  Snow would come soon and Imladris would
glitter like a diamond.  He smiled as he made his way to the stables
where the others on patrol would be waiting.

His thoughts centered on Legolas.  Elrohir was right, there was a bond
between them.  It was stronger now for him since he had acknowledged
it.  He could feel the faint emotions Legolas leaked down the
connection, but they were little aid to finding the answer to his
questions.

His worries were pushed aside, though, when he entered the paddock and
saw his twin leaning against the fencing, smiling at him.  His heart
squeezed.  His brother's beauty always captivated him, left him needy
and wanting.

"Elladan," came the silken tone, caressing his name.

"Elrohir."  He approached, laying his pack on the ground at their
feet, looking into the silver-grey eyes of his twin.

"I hate when I cannot come with you, gwanunig."  Elrohir's hand came
up to rest on his cheek.

"You have our Prince to keep you company, caulen.  I will return soon.
I will always come back to you."  Elladan placed his hand on the back
of Elrohir's neck and drew him close, covering his brother's lips with
his own.  The kiss was soft and slow, a gentle tasting of each other
and a silent communication of intense and undying love.

Such kisses always left them breathless and with tears in their eyes.

Elladan picked up his back and caressed his lover's face one last
time.  "Melon lle," he whispered.

"Melon lle, Elladan."

Legolas stood on his balcony looking out over the courtyard, stable
and paddock.  His eyes were narrowed, watching the twins say good bye
to one another for the next four days.  The words expressed between
them were on lost on the Prince's Elvish hearing and he felt the sharp
pang of jealousy shoot through him.

They loved one another.  They did not love him.  Why this upset him,
he couldn't explain.  He didn't love them... did he?  Estel had said
there was more to love than words, but the words always helped.  He
shoved the doubts aside as his envy of Elladan surged up in him.
Elladan had Elrohir's love.  Elrohir would never leave Elladan.  But,
they could always leave him.

Elrohir turned from the gates, the patrol no longer in sight, and
started back to the main house.  He caught sight of Legolas on the
upper balcony where the Prince's quarters were.  He smiled brightly at
his lover, lifting his hand slightly to acknowledge that he had seen
the blond Elf.

Legolas smiled slightly himself, though had Elrohir been closer it
would have looked more like an angry sneer.  He beckoned to Elrohir,
knowing the Peredhel would come up to him.  He went back into the
room, practically stalking to the door, opening it before Elrohir
could knock.

Elrohir regarded the Sinda for a moment, sensing a shift within his
lover.  "Legolas?"

Legolas pulled the Half-Elf into the room, kicking the door closed
behind them.  He sunk his hands into his partner's hair, sealing his
lips over Elrohir's in a deep, hungry kiss.  Elrohir was powerless to
stop the Prince, opening his mouth to him and moaning as Legolas
claimed him with his tongue.

He was being walked backward toward the bed as Legolas' hands tore at
his clothing.  While it was wonderful to see again a little of the
fire and passion that he and Elladan had been so drawn to, Elrohir had
never seen the Elf so desperate or so needy.  Legolas stripped the
Peredhel's clothes and pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top
of him and covering his face and chest with frantic kisses.

Elrohir had to admit that being completely naked while Legolas was
fully dressed was more than a little arousing.  He felt wanton and
brazen; in short, he felt naughty, and the feeling excited him.
Legolas was running his hands all over the twin's bare skin, leaving
goose bumps in their wake.  The Wood Elf followed his hands with his
mouth as he kissed, licked, sucked, and nipped every inch of Elrohir's
arms, chest, and stomach.

Legolas wrapped his fingers around the Peredhel's firm cock.  Elrohir
gasped at the contact, and the gasp became a moan when the Prince
began stroking the smooth shaft.  He dipped his head between Elrohir's
legs and began to lick the skin at the base of the twin's rod, then
down to the tight sack below.  Legolas pressed his tongue against the
wrinkled flesh, feeling the weight of the orbs within.  He took each
one into his mouth, licking and sucking as his hand continued to move
along Elrohir's cock, now slick from the clear fluids that were
dribbling from the tip.

All at once, the Wood Elf released Elrohir's arousal and ran his
tongue along the underside, from base to tip.  He looked into the
Half-Elf's eyes and said simply, "Mine," before enveloping Elrohir's
erection with his warm mouth.

Elrohir gasped at the suddenness.  "Elbereth!  Yes, yours, maethoren.
All yours."

/Ahem./  Elladan's unmistakable Far-voice rang in his head.

/Brother?/

/Who else?  Don't let him know we're speaking, though./

/He's ... ohhhh, my ... he's occupied.  I don't think he'll notice./

Elladan got right to the point.  /Something's wrong with him./

/I don't suppose this ... mmm, that's nice ... could wait until
later?/

/If it weren't important, I wouldn't have bothered you./  Indignation
resonated through their link.

Elrohir sighed, twisting the sound into a groan as Legolas once again
impaled his mouth on the Peredhel's rock-hard arousal.  /Very well,
gwanunig.  Why do you think something is wrong?/

/He's never acted like this before.  He's always let one of us be in
control./

/So he's trying something new.  What's wrong with that?/

/I don't know.  But something's off with him.  I'm worried./

/You think he's going to hurt me?/

/I doubt it.  At least, not physically.  Just be on your guard,
caulen./

/I think you're overreacting, but I will, for you./

/Thank you.  Enjoy yourself, Elrohir, melethen./

Elrohir felt Elladan's presence leave his mind, and he returned full
consciousness to what he was doing, or, more specifically, what was
being done to him.  Legolas had returned his hand to the Peredhel's
cock and was working the shaft with abandon.  Elrohir gripped the
bedclothes, and his head thrashed back and forth.  Legolas' grip was
firm and tight almost to the point of being painful, but it felt too
good for Elrohir to want to say anything.  He screamed the Prince's
name when he came.  Legolas held Elrohir's cock flat against his skin
so that his fluids spurted into a rapidly cooling pool on his stomach,
making the younger twin shiver.

So pleasantly numb was the Half-Elf that he didn't notice when Legolas
undid the ties to his leggings and exposed his arousal, he never felt
Legolas scooping the milky juices from his stomach, and he barely
registered when the Wood Elf lifted his legs and braced them on the
blond's shoulders.  When Legolas said stiffly, "Say it again.  Say
you're mine," Elrohir lazily replied, "Of course, maethoren valthen,
I'm all yours."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he remembered his
brother's warning.  Elrohir snapped back to alertness just in time to
feel Legolas thrusting his cock, smeared with the Peredhel's juices,
into Elrohir's tight -- and unprepared -- rear passage.  Even with
adequate lubrication, the entrance would be uncomfortable, at least.
The small amount of slightly sticky orgasmic fluid, though, was
emphatically *not* adequate, and Elrohir cried out in pain, clenching
his eyes shut, as the muscle in his ass was stretched suddenly by the
Elf's half-dry shaft.

Elladan was instantly in the younger twin's mind, voicing concern.
Elrohir kept his eyes closed to hide the silver gleam as he reassured
his brother, /No, I'm okay.  Just surprised me./  As he Farspoke,
Elrohir reached to the table beside the bed and grabbed the phial of
oil.  He removed the stopper and poured a liberal amount onto Legolas'
cock as the Wood Elf pulled back, preparing for a second thrust.  The
difference was phenomenal, and Elrohir sighed in pleasure when Legolas
re-entered him.  /No harm done, gwanunig,/ he sent to Elladan.

/All the same, I think I'll stay close./

/Are you *that* bored, you naughty little voyeur?/ Elrohir teased.

/Let me put it this way.  I've already drawn my sword and am in the
process of... polishing it./

/Oooh, you *are* naughty!  All right, you can stay, but don't distract
me!/

Because Elrohir was already spent, he was free to enjoy the sensation
of Legolas thrusting away in him.  And enjoy it he did, even when the
Mirkwood Prince grabbed his hips and began pounding his cock into
Elrohir's tight passage with a carnal force that threatened to tear
the Peredhel in half.

Legolas let out a growl of animalistic fury when his orgasm ripped
through him, driving his nails into Elrohir's skin hard enough to draw
blood.  He pumped the Half-Elf full of his seed, and it seemed for
a time that his anger went with it.  He pulled out of Elrohir and
rolled onto his back on the bed next to the younger twin, panting for
air.  "You really are mine, aren't you?" he said softly.

Elrohir smiled and ran his fingers through Legolas' hair.  "Of course
I'm yours, pen velui.  Just as you are mine, and Elladan is yours, and
I am Elladan's."

The anger that Legolas thought had abated returned in an instant.  He
rolled out of Elrohir's reach, getting up from the bed and quickly
retying his leggings.  "You can't stop thinking about him even when
I'm here and he's not," he said accusingly.

Elrohir sat up, shocked.  "I was only saying --"

"You were only saying that he will always hold a greater portion of
your heart than I ever can," Legolas finished for him.  The Prince did
not wait for a response.  He turned quickly and stormed out of the
room -- his room -- leaving a stunned Peredhel staring after him.

/Now what in the fires of Morgoth was *that* all about?/ the twins
asked each other.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan and Elrohir walked swiftly to their father's office.  Elladan
had quickly bathed and changed after returning from the patrol and
pulled Elrohir with him to their father's study.  "We need to talk
with Ada, Elrohir.  Something is really wrong with Legolas and I do
not think Thranduil can help us anymore."

Elrohir sighed.  Legolas had made himself scarce the last four days
and the twins could feel the shame, guilt and unfocused fury through
the bond they shared with their lover.  It caused Elrohir's heart to
ache whenever he concentrated on that part of his being that screamed
'Legolas!'.

They knocked at the door of their father's office, Elrohir gripping
his twin's hand.  Elrond called for them to enter and Elladan pulled
his brother with him into to cool, bright room.

"Ada?  Can we bother you for a few minutes?"  Elrond nodded and
motioned to the large chairs near the windows.  Elladan seated himself
then pulled Elrohir into his lap, leaving the other chair open for
their father.  Once he was seated, Elladan started speaking.  "We
worry about Legolas, Ada.  Things have not been right between the
three of us for the last few years.  We have tried talking with him
about it, but he is evasive and dismissive."

"We feel we are hurting him, but do not know how or why," Elrohir
added.  "I know it is us because of the last time he and I were
together."  He shifted a bit uncomfortably under his father's
scrutiny.

Elrond smiled faintly, enjoying the rare moment of embarrassment his
son felt.  "Yes?"  When neither of his sons continued, Elrond sighed
heavily.  "Elladan, Elrohir, it is not as if I am deaf and blind.  I
know what goes on between the three of you -- have known about it
before you even knew."

"Knew?" Elladan asked.  "You knew we would form a relationship?"

"I knew, as did Thranduil, that the three of you would bond."  Elrond
smiled smugly at his children.

"I knew shortly after the first night, Ada.  Elladan didn't figure it
out until recently.  Legolas, though, he has not acknowledged it and I
do not think he *knows* it's there.  But, we can feel this..." Elrohir
search for a word, but it was Elladan who completed the thought.

"Bitterness towards us... towards *me*.  Neither of us knows why,
really.  He grew angry when Elrohir made the comment that we belonged
to each other, the three of us, after a lovemaking session and he
became offended and angry with Elrohir.  Accusing him of holding me
above him in his heart."

"Which is simply not true, Ada."

Elrond thought for a few moments, mulling over the jealousy Legolas
obviously felt for the bond the twins shared.  "Why have you not
brought the bond to his attention?  You both love him, that connection
is proof of that.  What keeps you from making it common knowledge?"
Identical eyes met one another and Elrond knew they were having one of
those silent, private conversations... ones like he and Thranduil used
to share.  He shook the thoughts aside, his sons needed him now and he
could not dwell on his own relationship issues.  There would be time
enough to deal with the Mirkwood King.

It was Elrohir who spoke.  "We wanted Legolas to come to the
realization himself.  He has always come across as feeling cornered
where love and his heart were concerned.  We did not wish for him to
feel pressured or forced into knowing of the bond.  Both of us were
given time to understand and we welcomed the bond with open hearts.
Legolas, though, has this need that we cannot fill right now.  Do not
ask me what that need is, it is only that that is what I can feel
leaking through his mind.  It pains us, Ada, and I am no longer sure
how to proceed without making matters worse."

The Imladris Lord nodded, "I can understand your reluctance.  When you
began this relationship, who initiated it?"

Elladan laughed.  "After a drunken night, before we bid the Prince
good night, Elrohir propositioned him.  Legolas then came to us
thinking Elrohir was seeking a new partner, and we quickly corrected
his misconception.  When he finally decided we were what he wanted, it
was Elrohir who took the lead and kissed him first.  It was also
Elrohir who took the Prince that night."

Elrohir's face, Elrond thought, probably could not turn a darker shade
of red than what it was.  He had to restrain himself from commenting
and teasing his son.  "The fact of the matter is, Legolas is likely to
have attached to you, Elrohir, before your brother.  To him, you are
still two people, and loving two people is something that not many
people can reconcile.  He is likely to believe that he loves you
'more' than he loves Elladan and it would therefore upset him when he
perceives that you love Elladan 'more' than you love him."

"So what do we do, Ada?" Elrohir asked softly.

"There's no easy answer to that question, my son.  The truth is that
he may never come to terms with his affections.  You need to give him
the time he needs.  If you choose to be counted among the Elves, you
will have the lifetime of Arda to wait... if you so choose.  Other
than that, I am sorry.  I have no other words of wisdom for you."

Elladan patted his brother's leg, indicating he wanted Elrohir to get
up.  The twins thanked their father for his time, and Elladan remained
behind, giving Elrond the patrol report before going to see Erestor.
His younger brother, though, returned to their room with a heavy
heart.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Legolas sat cross-legged on his bed, feeling like an Elfling once
again.  His father paced the wood floor, his eyes glittering like cold
jade.

"Ada..."

"Do not 'Ada' me, Legolas.  This is not a simple hunt through
Mirkwood!"

Legolas glared at his father.  "Since when is a hunt through Mirkwood
'simple'?  Venomous spiders, Orcs, wargs, Men, Dwarves...  I have
survived over two thousand years in the service of your kingdom, I
think I have been well prepared for such a Quest as Lord Elrond wishes
me to go on."

Thranduil towered over his youngest son.  "You do not know the world
as well as you would like to think you do.  There is much evil, evil I
would rather shield you from.  Why, Legolas?  Why must you do this?"

It nearly broke his resolve to see his father so distraught.  But, his
father has fought in many battles, had helped see to the destruction
of Sauron in the Second Age.  His father had a kingdom and had his own
name and identity.  Legolas had none of that.  He was always an
extension of those in his life.  "Adar, I want to do this.  This is
what I need in my life.  I need to find out who I am in all this.  The
Company needs an Elf; I am skilled, I feel I have some wisdom to offer
them, and I am fond of the Halflings and Estel.  I would feel as if I
am abandoning my duty to my people, to my lands.  I have accepted the
Quest and I will not go back on my word."

The Mirkwood King lost all his heat, his shoulders slumping slightly
as he regarded his son.  Legolas' bright eyes shone like a clear sky
on a late summer day and the passion he saw reflected in their depths
let him know that the Prince had thought through his decision.  He
nodded once, his mouth grim.  "Then I wish you all the blessings of
our people, Legolas.  This will be a trying time, one fraught with
peril.  Come home to me, to our family."

Legolas stood up and embraced his father tightly.  "I will, Ada, I
will."

Thranduil released his son, cupping his face in his large hands.
"Have you discussed this with the twins yet?"

The younger Elf's features clouded, the brightness fading from his
eyes, replaced with turmoil and resentment.  "I have not, but I am
sure they will not let me escape without a confrontation."

Thranduil's brow furrowed.  "Confrontation?  Are you three still
having a disagreement?"

Legolas pulled from his father's grip and walked to the balcony.  "I
would not call it a disagreement, but yes, things are still unsettled
between us."

"You must reconcile with them, ion," Thranduil said softly.  "Your
journey has many dangers, you may not come back to me or to them.  Do
not leave with your last words being in anger."

The young Sinda sighed.  "Melon lle, Ada."

Thranduil read the dismissal in his son's words and sighed quietly.
"Melon lle, Legolas."  He left quickly, fearing he would change
his mind and attempt to bully Legolas into returning with him to
Mirkwood.  Instead, he headed to the library.  There it would be quiet
and he could be alone with his tormented thoughts.

*****

The night had come and Legolas sat in the window seat in his room.  He
had missed the evening meal, choosing to remain alone.  He was wearing
a long, thick sleeping robe and sat with his legs drawn up against his
chin.  The white blanket that covered Imladris in the winter brought
to mind the days past when he and his lovers were happier.

Before he began to feel envious of Elladan.  Before he felt left
out of their love.  Of course, he couldn't blame them.  He had never
professed love for them, and he wasn't really sure he *did* love them.
But, this was not an issue he needed to be dealing with before such a
venture as the trek to Mordor.  He needed to focus himself, not dwell
on matters of the heart.

It was in this irritated, contemplative state the twins found the
Prince.  He heard the knock on his chamber and bid whoever was outside
to enter.  He knew instantly that his lovers were there, something
inside of him flaring to life.  He stood smoothly, turning his icy
gaze to them.

It was Elrohir who spoke first.  After so many years, he knew the
differences in the twins, knew how Elrohir would wring his hands
slightly when he was upset or nervous -- and the twin speaking to him
was doing just that.  "Do you really mean to leave us, maethorem
valthen?"

Legolas crossed his arms, feeling his heart harden at the thought they
would come to his rooms and try to dissuade him.  "Yes, I mean to
leave in seven days with the Ringbearer and travel to Mordor to see
this evil unmade.  Nothing you can say will sway my decision, as my
father found out this afternoon."

Elladan's eyes flashed, his temper sparking at the cold, detached tone
the Sinda was taking with them.  "What is with you, Legolas?  You act
as though this is nothing, just a ride between here and Mirkwood!  How
can you be so..."

"Casual," Elrohir said softly.  "So indifferent to the ones who care
about you and what this Quest could mean to them should you not
return."

Legolas flew into a sudden fury.  "Me?!  What about you?  Two months
ago the two of you were ready to go should your father ask it of you!
I don't remember either of you consulting me and my feelings on the
matter.  You were too busy Farspeaking each other while I sat right in
front of you.  No, your feelings never entered my mind when I accepted
Elrond's request.  Your feelings ceased to matter to me weeks ago."

Elrohir's vision became slightly fuzzy, feeling the deluge of outrage
and enmity flooding the bond between them.  Elladan reached out for
his twin, steadying him and offering him his silent support.  The
gesture did not go unnoticed by the Prince.

"Leave.  I do not wish to speak any more with either of you.  I will
go on the Quest and when I return, perhaps we can work through what is
between us.  Until then..."  He trailed off, sweeping away the moment
of pain he felt at the panic in Elrohir's eyes and the fear in
Elladan's.

Elladan gripped his brother's hand tightly, pulling him towards the
door.  After pushing Elrohir out into the hall, Elladan bowed slightly
to the Prince.  "Our blessing for Your Majesty.  May your journey be
safe and fruitful."  With one last poisonous look, Elladan shut the
door, offering his brother his arms.

Elrohir fell into them, tears on his cheeks.  He feared they would
never see their bright, golden warrior again, and the Peredhil's
hearts bled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Legolas was upset that his father had not remained in Imladris to see
him off, but he understood that it would not have been appropriate for
him to have remained.  He was also insulted that Thranduil had not
even *informed* him he was leaving.  Elrond had explained, with as
little detail as possible, where his father was and why he had left in
such a hurry.

He had not spoken to the twins since that night in his room.  They had
kept their distance and, when forced to socialize with him, treated
him as a royal dignitary -- nothing more.  Which was fine, he needed
as few distractions as possible.  He had met their eyes one last time
as Elrond bid them farewell.  He bowed his head slightly to them in
respect, vowing silently that he would return and set things right
between them.

Silence, then they were filing out of the courtyard, setting out on
the great Quest.

*****

The fire was low in the hearth, thick blankets covered the two sable-
haired figures in the bed.  Elladan spooned behind Elrohir, holding
his brother close to the warmth of his body.

Hot breath on Elrohir's ear and his twin's soft words drifted over
him.  "He will return, gwanunig."

The younger brother nodded, feeling the tears return to his eyes.  "I
do not doubt he will return.  What I doubt is if he will ever love
us."

And to that, Elladan had no answer, no comfort to offer the other half
of his soul, of his heart.  He simply pulled Elrohir closer, burying
his nose in the clean scent of his brother's hair, humming softly
while drifting into reverie.

End "I Wanna Heal"

Elvish/English translations:
Maethorem valthen : Our golden warrior
Maethyren vyrn : My dark warriors
Caulen : My affliction
Mellonen : My friend
Melon lle : I love you
Melethen : My love
Maethoren valthen : My golden warrior

Completed: 11/05/2003
Revised: 11/23/2003

---

Series: One Step Closer Trilogy
Title: Epilogue
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hamena.org
Fandom: LOTR
Archive: Any, so long as I know where it is  ^^
Rating: PG
Beta: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas, Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel
Timeline: Midsummer's Night 3019 TA
Spoilers:  None
Summary: The wedding reception of King Elessar and Queen Arwen, 
where Erestor sees Glorfindel for the first time in months, Elrond 
learns of Thranduil's indifference, and Elladan and Elrohir discover 
where Legolas' heart has taken him.
A/N: Arc two is complete.  The third arc, which will answer all the 
questions and resolve our lovesick characters will come out in the 
next 2-3 weeks.  I hope this was enjoyable, even if it was a little 
darker and less happy than the first arc.  ^^

---

"Upon the very Eve of Midsummer, when the sky was blue as sapphire and 
white stars opened in the East, but the West was still golden, and the 
air was cool and fragrant, the riders came down the North-way to the 
gates of Minas Tirith.  First rode Elrohir and Elladan with a banner 
of silver, and then came Glorfindel and Erestor and all the household 
of Rivendell, and after them came the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn, 
Lord of Lothlorien, riding upon white steeds and with them many fair 
folk of their land, grey-cloaked with white gems in their hair; and 
last came Master Elrond, mighty among Elves and Men, bearing the 
scepter of Annuminas, and beside him upon a grey palfrey rode Arwen 
his daughter, Evenstar of her people." -- Return of the King, The 
Steward and the King, pg. 951

Gildor swung the Imladris Councilor around, his heart lightened at 
seeing the distant, lost Noldo smile once again.  The day had been 
cool, perfect and beautiful for Elessar and Arwen.  Now that the night 
had fallen and the fireworks from Gandalf were showering the sky with 
brilliant color, Erestor seemed to let go of his melancholy, which 
had consumed him since Lorien when Glorfindel took horse in the 
procession that would journey to Minas Tirith.  Even if that 
sadness left the fair Councilor only for one night.

Six months had passed since Lord Glorfindel had fled the valley, 
leaving behind a broken Elf.  Elrond and Gildor, who had known the 
Councilor the longest, had spent much time with him, distracting him 
from his pain.  It was more difficult for Elrond, though, since he had 
his falling out with the Mirkwood King.  It was common knowledge 
around the House that the four great Lords of Imladris had lost their 
lovers during the War of the Ring.  One more thing Sauron had taken.  

Gildor reflected on the moody, short tempered twins.  They sat at a 
table with Lindir and Haldir, brooding and glowering at the dance 
floor.  Gildor turned his attention to where their stares went and 
caught Legolas dancing with Melpomaen, smiling softly at the Advisor 
who was flushed with heat and wine.

"Legolas is making a terrible mistake," Erestor said, looking sadly 
over at the twins.  "I wonder if he feels any better now that the 
Quest is over and the War won."

Gildor dipped Erestor, causing him to let out a peel of laughter.  As 
his eyes focused on the far wall, though, all mirth fled from his 
heart.

The warrior felt the form in his arms stiffen and followed Erestor's 
gaze.  Glorfindel stood on the edge of the crowd, dress in indigo and 
silver formal robes.  He had his hands resting behind his back, his 
eyes narrowed while taking in the scene before him, his lover with his 
friend.  He was flanked by two Galadhrim, Rumil and Orophin, chosen 
for this duty by Haldir himself.  

He met the eyes of his former lover, feeling anger rise in him.  
Erestor watched Glorfindel lean over and whisper in Rumil's ear, the 
striking blue gaze never leaving his.  Gildor swept them around once 
and out of the way of Elessar and Arwen who were laughing happily and 
when Erestor sought out Glorfindel again, the Elda was gone.

Hurt swam in the bottomless eyes as they looked up into the 
compassionate hazel ones.  Erestor choked out, "He is truly gone from 
me."  Gildor embraced him tightly and walked the two of them out of 
the great hall and towards Erestor's rooms.

*****

Only four remained at the head table, all the others of the wedding 
party and family going off to dance or converse with friends.  Elrond 
smiled at Gandalf, the old Wizard laughing merrily at the sights 
before him while he sat beside the Lady of the Wood.  He then took in 
the composed and serene Galadriel to his left, her white gown glowing 
softly in the warm lights.  Celeborn sat on his right, slowly sipping 
the wine and watching as Glorfindel and the two brothers of Haldir 
exited the room.

Elrond's eyes flew to his Councilor, who was being led away from the 
festivities by their long-time friend Gildor.  Gildor would take good 
care of Erestor, at least, until Glorfindel could come back to him.  
It was odd, though, that his Seneschal was even at the reception.  He 
turned his attentions to Celeborn.

"Has Glorfindel improve so that he is able to attend this celebration?  
With his behavior less than a year ago to go on, I would have thought 
it safest to stay in Lorien."

Celeborn put his goblet down and smiled gently at his son-in-law.  "He 
has improved... some.  Not much, but enough so he can warn Rumil or 
Orophin of an on coming episode."

"He is still a danger?"

"Very much so.  To us and to himself.  Do not fret, Elrond, I did not 
let him loose in this room.  Both of Haldir's brothers guard him and 
he is bound with mithril chains.  He could not physically harm anyone.  
But, it seems seeing his love in the arms of another -- whether 
platonic or not -- has sent him into another fit.  He will be 
restrained in his guest chamber."

Elrond shuddered at the word 'restrained,' knowing it was not simply 
being bound by hands to a bed.  "Will he ever recover?"

Celeborn shrugged his shoulders.  "I will not give up on him, and he 
does not wish to give up on himself.  But, it will take time.  Is 
Erestor still planning on crossing with you?"

The Imladris Lord nodded, sipping his water.  "I have tried to reason 
with him, explain that Glorfindel needs time and that he could stay in 
Imladris and aid my sons.  He refuses.  He is deeply wounded and 
Valinor may offer him some peace.  I cannot deny him that.  He has 
suffered much in his long life, I do not wish to prolong his 
unhappiness."

"What of you, my Lord?" asked Galadriel.  "Your sons are remaining, as 
is Thranduil.  You do not have to journey with us and the other 
Ringbearers yet.  You could remain and come with your kin when they 
are ready to come to Valinor."

Elrond shook his head.  "No.  I am weary.  I must go.  My time is 
over.  My naneth waits in Valinor.  I long to see my family, the ones 
who have long traveled over the Sea.  It is the Age of Man.  I no 
longer 
have a place in this world we have helped to create.  Our time has 
passed."

Silence descended upon the table as the ancients contemplated their 
paths.  "Will you tally long, Lord?" Elrond asked Celeborn.

"Thranduil and I will rule Eryn Lasgalen together until such a time as 
he, or I, choose to set sail.  We may never leave these lands, but I 
do not think our fate is to fade in this world as we are slowly 
forgotten by it."

"Thranduil," Elrond said softly.

Gandalf's eyes softened and he finally joined the discussion.  "Have 
you sent word to him yet?  About you leaving?"

"I have sent messengers, but all Imladris Elves are turned away.  He 
has locked his kingdom off from me, prohibiting me from reaching him.  
He is angry with me, furious.  I can feel it."  He sighed, feeling old 
and alone.

"Have you Farspoken with him at all?"  Galadriel nibbled at a slice of 
pear, concern shadowing her wise blue eyes.

Elrond shook his head.  "He has barred me from his mind.  I can only 
sense random emotion from him, his thoughts are kept tightly caged and 
away from me."

Celeborn shifted in his seat, angling so that he face Elrond, his 
wife, and the Wizard better.  "I thought he was in the wrong, Elrond."

"So did I," stated the Peredhel.

*****

The night had worn on and Elladan watched his father, his grandmother, 
his grandfather and the White Wizard take their leave of his sister 
and foster brother.  The crowd was thinning and the twins felt this 
was as good a time as any to leave the celebration.  

They had watched their old lover dance with any willing partner, and 
few refused the shining Prince of Mirkwood.  The only two Elves in the 
palace Legolas had kept away from were the twin sons of Elrond.  This 
knowledge was like a spike to their heart, salt on the wounds Legolas 
had left them with many months ago.

The bond they shared was still strong, still let Elrohir know that 
Legolas suffered from their separation as much as they did.  He took 
Elladan's hand and led him up the stairwells, through hallways, up to 
where Legolas stood.  The blond Prince was a vision against the dark 
night sky, his hair gently shifting in the light breeze and his formal 
robes cast off for a simple silver tunic and leggings.  He turned his 
heated blue gaze from the Pelennor Fields to the twins.

"I came back," he said simply.

Elrohir rushed forward, taking the Elf's face in his hands and kissing 
him deeply, thrusting his tongue into the waiting warmth of Legolas' 
mouth.  The Sinda returned the kiss, but not with the same passion and 
Elrohir pulled back, confusion marring his beautiful features.  "What 
is it, maethorem valthen?  Why do you look at us as you do?"

It was Elladan who answered.  "Because, Caulen, he has come back, but 
not back to us."  Elrohir looked between his brother and their lover, 
sensing only a cool detachment from the Wood Elf.

"I plan on remaining in Gondor to assist Elessar for a few years.  
King Eomer and Elessar have offered me lands in Ithilien, woods near 
Emyn Arnen, where I would rule as Prince of the Elves who remain in 
Gondor after the wedding party depart."  His eyes were hooded, his 
tone dead, and Elladan felt anxiety creeping back into his heart.

"Emyn Arnen?  Legolas, that is over a month's ride from Imladris."  
Elrohir chewed his lip, feeling weak in his need for the Elf.

"Yes, it is.  But, this is my path.  I will remain in Middle-Earth 
until Elessar passes from the living.  Only then will I consider 
sailing for Valinor."

"Why do you have such loyalty to our brother?"  Elladan crossed his 
arms, meeting Legolas' eyes with his.

"I have a deep respect for him and he has become a most trusted 
friend.  I would do him dishonor to simply abandon him when he is new 
to ledership."

Elrohir stepped back, away from the strange Elf who looked like the 
one he had loved for hundreds of years.  "Is there nothing we can say 
to change your mind?  To have journey back with us to Rivendell?"

Legolas shook his head.  "No."

"We are leaving in the morning, we must get back.  Erestor and Ada are 
sailing for Valinor soon.  We have not made our choice, we have not 
decided on the fate of Man or to be counted among the Firstborn."  
Elladan let his words hang heavy in the air, hoping that Legolas would 
be moved to say something comforting, something to give them hope.

But, he didn't.  He turned back to the dark Fields beyond the Citadel, 
lost in his thoughts.  The twins turned, walking back through the 
doorway, leading away from their bonded.  Elrohir stopped for a 
moment, turning to speak once more.

"Would it change anything, Legolas, if we told you we loved you?"  His 
voice sounded small in the night, almost pleding.

"No, Elrohir, I don't think it would."  He turned to his old lovers, a 
smile finally gracing his lips.  "But, there is hope for us.  Always 
hope.  I did come back, Elladan.  I always planned on coming back."

End "One Step Closer" Trilogy

Elvish/English translations:
Maethorem valthen : Our golden warrior

Completed: 11/05/2003
Revised: 11/23/2003