Title: Through the Eyes of a Child

Author: Morgana
Author’s Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon

Main paring; Thranduil/Lindir.

Side pairings: Elrohir/Legolas, Dûrel/Elrond, Elladan/Glorfindel and Erestor/Ereinion.
Haldir/Melpomaen mentioned.

Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Now that Dûrel has become the new High-King of the Firstborn, peace returns to
Imladris. But for some there is no peace yet. Thranduil, accompanied by Lindir, travels
home and deals with memories he never felt strong enough to face before.

Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.
Warnings: mention/memories of severe child abuse. Thranduil witnesses murder and
violence. This story is completely AU, of course.

Author’s Note: this is the sequel to Inside the Dark Forest the Secret Lies.

Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have
written this story without your help!

All remaining mistakes are mine.

 

 

Through the Eyes of a Child

Part 1

 

 

Thranduil tossed and turned in his sleep. Ever since facing Oropher’s minions, the
memories of his childhood, which he had believed buried for all eternity, had surfaced
once more. Seeing Saerif’s face had re-awoken those memories. The chief assassin had made
him miserable in his youth and visions of that abuse flashed on his retina before he was
startled awake.

 

Sitting upright in bed, he panted hard, trying to regain control of his emotions and
memories. /I refuse to remember what they did… I refuse! I won’t suffer those
recollections again!/ Forcefully, he shoved the visions back, fully aware of the fact
that they would return later – stronger and even more brutal. How he would deal with them
then he didn’t know yet.

 

He wished Lindir were here with him, but he hadn’t spoken with the minstrel since the
assassination attempt – he had been too busy making certain Oropher’s minions were locked
up with no chance of escape. Bone-tired, he had gone to bed and that had been a mistake.
He had been too tired to control his dreams… Dreams, in which his mother still screamed
his name.

 

Pushing back the covers, he swung his feet onto the floor. He ran a hand through his
disheveled mane and his eyes searched the floor as if it would open and reveal Saerif’s
grinning face again. The room felt confining and the Woodland Elf felt urged to leave the
guest quarters. But where could he go? He didn’t know where Lindir’s rooms were located
and he could hardly search the entire Last Homely House for the minstrel. But he had to
try; he couldn’t be alone tonight.

 

After slipping into a morning robe, Thranduil made his way over to the door and opened
it. The corridor was empty and he stepped outside, looking right and left to evade any
Elves which might be coming this way.

 

Although he had his breathing under control again, he felt how flushed his face was and
when he passed a mirror, he saw the horror that still lay in his eyes. Anyone who would
encounter him in this state would quickly deduce that he’d a nightmare.

 

“Thranduil? What are you doing here at such a late hour?” Elrond took in Thranduil’s
tousled state and grew worried. He had felt some concern for the Woodland Elf since
hearing about Thranduil’s horrible childhood. “You do not look well.”

 

“I could ask the same thing of you – what are you doing here?” said Thranduil,
defensively. The last person he had wanted to encounter was the half-Elf, who knew of the
torment he had been through as a child!

 

“I was merely checking on our prisoners,” said Elrond, studying Thranduil with a healer’s
gaze. “They won’t escape their confines.”

 

“That is good…” Indecisively, Thranduil shuffled his feet. He should return to his room
and abandon his search for Lindir, but at the same time he was afraid he would fall
asleep again and the nightmares would re-visit him.

 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Elrond carefully placed his right hand on Thranduil’s arm,
instantly noticing the flinch and flight reaction. “Dûrel is fast asleep and we will be
able to talk undisturbed.”

 

Thranduil shook his head. “I do not think that would be wise. I should not talk about my
memories. Those ghosts should remain buried.”

 

“But they already began surfacing, didn’t they?” Elrond used his hold on Thranduil’s arm
to guide the distressed Elf toward his private chambers. “You need to unburden your soul
and I am a good listener.” Elrond opened the door to his rooms and steered Thranduil
toward his study, which lay opposite the bedroom. “We won’t wake Dûrel if we talk
quietly.”

 

Thranduil was weary and in need of advice and sat down on the chair opposite the large,
oak desk. He even allowed Elrond to drape a warm blanket across his knees. He pulled the
fabric up to his chest, as if trying to hide beneath it. “You do not have to do this.”

 

Elrond used the hot water in the kettle above the fire to brew a special kind of herbal
tea, which would hopefully calm Thranduil’s nerves. Preparing it, he realized just how
much he had misjudged the Woodland King in the past. He had automatically assumed that
Thranduil had taken after Oropher, but nothing could have been further away from the
truth.

 

“Was it a nightmare?” Elrond handed a cup of the brew to the pale Elf and pulled a chair
closer to where Thranduil was sitting.

 

Thranduil blew onto the surface of the tea and fought an inner battle; should he tell
Elrond or not? The half-Elf was the only one – except for Legolas – who knew how badly
Oropher had treated him. Why not find comfort by telling Elrond about his nightmares?

 

“You can trust me, meldir1. I am a healer and sworn to secrecy. I will keep everything
you say to myself.”

 

“You won’t even tell Dûrel?” Thranduil somehow found that hard to believe.

 

“I promise to keep it private,” said Elrond, briefly resting his hand on Thranduil’s knee
and squeezing it. “I respect your privacy. I respect all my patients’ privacy.”

 

Thranduil sipped the tea and ignored the fact that Elrond had just called him a patient.
It mattered little and maybe that was just what he was – an Elf in need of healing. “I do
not know where to begin.”

 

“Why don’t you start by telling me what that nightmare was about?” Elrond retracted his
hand and pushed them into his sleeves. He had a vague idea of how hard this was on
Thranduil and admired the Woodland Elf for confiding in him.

 

Thranduil stared at the swirling surface of his tea. “I do not want to remember those
scenes.”

 

“But your mind does and by doing so, it is telling you that it is time to face your
pain.” Elrond wished he had known how Oropher had tormented Thranduil – then he could
have reached out to soothe the Elf earlier.

 

“It was Saerif’s face which I saw in my dreams.” Seeing Elrond’s puzzled expression, he
continued, “It is the name of the assassin who I bested at the ceremony. He is the leader
of the five assassins and responsible for many unpleasant moments in my past.” And that
was putting it mildly!

 

“What was this nightmare exactly about?” asked Elrond, refusing to let Thranduil change
their subject.

 

“I was very little… still very young… My mother was already dead and I felt lonely.
Oropher wasn’t a loving parent and I was a child who had no one to turn to.” Thranduil
shivered and pulled the blanket closer to his trembling frame. “You must know that
Oropher had taken to living in those caves and I was forced to live underground as well.
I hated those caves… I still do. It is where they killed my mother and…” Thranduil
quickly sipped again, needing the moment to compose himself. “Saerif would taunt me, take
me to the place where they had taken her life and delighted in telling me that I was next
if I did not make my father proud of me.”

 

Elrond’s face contorted with worry and he leaned in closer, brushing strands of fair hair
away from Thranduil’s face. Now that the hair no longer acted as a shield, Elrond saw the
tears trailing down Thranduil’s face.

 

“They did not clean the earth where she had fallen and for years the blood remained
visible.” Thranduil’s hand shook and he was forced to place the cup onto the desk or else
it would have fallen and shattered.

 

“How did she die?” Elrond took hold of the trembling hand and closed his fingers over it.

 

“They slit her throat… Blood poured from the wound and she struggled against them for
long moments… But then she succumbed to death and her soul fled the caves.” Thranduil had
closed his eyes and his body shook violently. “It does not matter how many times I cried
for her passing, the memory remains.”

 

Elrond rose from his chair, walked over to Thranduil and came to stand behind him. He
rested his fingers at Thranduil’s temples and gently massaged them. “Her memory will
continue to haunt you until you are ready to let her go.” Elrond poured his affection and
concern into the gentle touch and he could feel Thranduil begin to relax. Keeping up the
soothing tone, he added, “You are not to blame for her death, meldir. You were only a
child and quite helpless. This was Oropher’s doing.” Thranduil relaxed further and
eventually slipped into a dreamless sleep.

 

Elrond stopped the massage and walked until he stood in front of the Woodland King. “How
can I let you leave for Mirkwood, knowing what demon haunts you? You are in need of
healing, meldir. You are in need of love.” Then, he recalled seeing Thranduil cradle
Lindir’s hand during the coronation ceremony. Was that the answer he had been searching
for? Was there love between Thranduil and Lindir? Looking at Thranduil, he realized that
the Mirkwood Elf wouldn’t wake for quite some time. That awareness made it easier for him
to leave his rooms in search of Lindir.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A knock on his door woke Lindir from his peaceful sleep. He sat upright, wondering who
required his services at this late hour. There was only one Elf he could think of –
Thranduil. “Enter.”

 

Elrond pushed the door open and stepped inside. He smiled at the white-haired Elf, whose
blue eyes were still heavy with sleep. “I apologize for disturbing you, but we must
talk!”

 

Hearing Elrond’s serious tone warned Lindir that something was amiss and he gestured for
the ruler of Imladris to approach.

 

“Do not bother getting dressed,” said Elrond, who sat down on the side of Lindir’s bed.
“Lindir, we have known each other for centuries and you always served me well – as a
minstrel and as a friend. I must now urge you to answer my questions and please keep in
mind that I am here as a friend and healer and not as your Lord.”

 

Worried, Lindir nodded his head once. “What is amiss?” What had caused Elrond to come to
him in the midst of the night?

 

“I noticed how close you stood to Thranduil during the ceremony today. Tell me; is there
an attraction between the two of you? And is it mutual?”

 

Lindir blushed and lowered his eyes. “I should have told you before, but… I was not quite
certain of my feelings for him and judged it better to wait until I knew what I felt for
him.”

 

“Do you know by now?” Elrond eyed Lindir closely and drew his own – hopefully correct --
conclusions.

 

“I believe I do,” whispered Lindir. “But what has this matter to do with you coming to my
room at such late an hour?”

 

“I am here because I found Thranduil wandering the corridors only an hour ago. A
nightmare disturbed his sleep.” Elrond wondered just how much Lindir knew of the Woodland
King’s childhood and decided to carry on with caution. “Do you love him, Lindir? And does
he love you?”

 

“I love him,” admitted Lindir in a clear voice. “And I believe he loves me. He even asked
me to be with him – in Mirkwood. I told him I must talk to you first.” Lindir found his
courage again and peeked at Elrond, involuntarily batting his eyelashes at him.

 

“What do you want, Lindir?” Elrond gave the minstrel a probing look. “Do you wish to
travel to Mirkwood?”

 

“I do, my Lord.” Lindir moistened his lips and hesitantly met Elrond’s gray eyes. “I have
fallen in love with him and I know that he carries a heavy burden…” He wasn’t prepared
for Elrond interrupting him and his eyes widened when the half-Elf did just that.

 

“What do you know of his troubles?”

 

“Little, for he refuses to discuss them with me.” Lindir frowned. “I hope he will learn
to trust me for I want to help him carry that load. He took my heart by surprise, my
Lord. That first time, when he came to the Hall of Fire, he simply sat down and listened
to my song. Then, he kissed me. I did not quite know what to make of that, but later on
he explained to me that he had lacked the proper words to express himself. I believe he
finds it hard to express himself in general, like he is not in touch with his feelings –
almost as if he represses them.”

 

“That is a fine analysis,” said Elrond, thoughtfully. “Lindir, I cannot tell you what
haunts Thranduil. As a healer, I cannot betray his trust and confide in you, but I can
counsel you if I may?”

 

Lindir nodded. “Please do, for I greatly value your advice.” Elrond seemed to know more
about what was troubling Thranduil and he would be a fool to decline Elrond’s offer.

 

“Travel to Mirkwood with him and deepen your love. If the attraction is mutual, I urge
you to hold on and to find a way to make Thranduil open up to you. I do not know
Thranduil very well, and I regret not extending my friendship to him in the past, but
what I know tells me that he will be a good friend and mate.”

 

Puzzled, Lindir eyed Elrond, hoping to find clues to what the half-Elf was not telling
him in Elrond’s body language, but he failed. All he could tell was that Elrond was very
sincere in his pleading on Thranduil’s behalf. “If I were to follow your advice, my Lord,
I would have to leave Imladris and your service.”

 

“Then do so. I do not want to stand in your way, Lindir. Thranduil deserves to be loved,
I know that much. And if you love him…”

 

“I do.”

 

“Then stay at his side for he will greatly need you in the time to come. Facing Oropher’s
minions has awakened painful memories – I can tell you that much.”

 

Lindir considered everything he had learned that night. “It almost seems like I do not
know Thranduil at all.”

 

“Oh, I think you do,” said Elrond, reassuringly. “You just do not know the details.”

 

“And you do? My Lord, why does he confide in you and not me, when he proclaims he loves
me?”

 

Elrond shook his head. “There is no reason for jealousy, Lindir. He was forced to tell me
parts of his history in order to explain the danger that threatened Dûrel’s life. He had
no choice. And maybe, he does not want to worry you -- taint you – with his sorrows.
Maybe he believes he has found something pure and he wants to protect it – keep it that
way. Keep *you* that way.”

 

“Is his past that horrible? His memories that painful that he would rather not confide in
me?” Aye, Thranduil had hinted at such a thing the first time they had met.

 

“It is a leap of faith, Lindir, of love. Do you love him enough to follow him into the
shadows of his heart? For you will find shadows there and ghosts that haunt him. Your
love won’t be a pure one as his past will taint it. Are you strong enough to stand at his
side and endure his pain? Do you love him enough to rise above it? And will you make him
see that the past is just that? The past? And not his future? Is your love strong enough,
meldir?”

 

“Your words frighten me,” admitted Lindir. “But I refuse to stray from my love. I will
stand at his side and be his strength, if he allows for it.”

 

Lindir’s words and the minstrel’s tone reassured Elrond. “Then ready yourself for
departure, for you will leave first thing in the morning.”

 

Lindir rose from the bed and nodded once. “I will be ready.”

 

Elrond got to his feet again and headed for the doorway. /I hope your love is strong
enough, Lindir, for I fear it will be put to the test./

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Elrond disrobed and climbed into bed to join his lover. Surprised, he looked into a pair
of brown eyes, which were very much awake.

 

“Where have you been?” asked Dûrel, opening his arms to embrace Elrond close. Lying face
to face, he studied his beloved.

 

“I talked to Thranduil – he was in need of a healer. Did you overhear us?” Elrond hoped
not, for he had promised Thranduil that his secrets were safe with him.

 

“Nay, I only awoke upon your return.” Dûrel ran his fingers lightly through Elrond’s
hair, which sported lover’s knots. “You are fond of these, aren’t you?”

 

“Aye, I am… It is something Elros used to do – a long time ago. I would always grow cross
with him for putting knots into my hair. Now I wished I could turn back time and…”
Dûrel’s sweet kiss silenced him and Elrond went along when his lover rolled him atop.

 

Dûrel smiled, feeling his lover’s form push him down. “It has been long since we made
love. Will you take me tonight?” His fingertips traveled down Elrond’s back and ended up
cupping the half-Elf’s buttocks. “You are already hard.”

 

It was true – it had only taken Elrond a few seconds to grow aroused now that Dûrel was
squirming beneath him. “Aye, it has been long… much too long.” He leaned in closer and
pressed possessive lips against the throbbing vein in his lover’s throat, sucking and
massaging the sensitive area. A pitiful moan left Dûrel’s lips as that sweet manipulation
roused his flesh. Elrond loved hearing it. “You wish for me to claim you, Sire?”

 

Dûrel gave his lover a surprised look, hearing him call him that in bed. “Elrond…”

 

“Indulge me, my Liege… It is my greatest desire to claim my King.” Elrond gave his lover
a wicked smile and a hand stole downward. Eager fingers wrapped around Dûrel’s length,
massaging the hard flesh.

 

Role playing? Dûrel raised an eyebrow, but decided to indulge Elrond, just as his lover
had requested. “You may take me.”

 

Nuzzling his lover’s throat, Elrond parted Dûrel’s legs by pushing his knee in-between
them. “How do you wish for me to take you, my Liege? Hard? Fast? Slow? Seductive?”

 

The sweet ache between his legs was driving Dûrel out of his mind and when Elrond stopped
stroking him, he raised his hips in pleading. “Just take me,” he whispered in a hoarse
voice. He vividly recalled the pleasure Elrond had given him when moving deep inside him.
“Please…”

 

Elrond licked his lips and reached for the vial of oil on the nightstand. “I will claim
you then, Sire… Oh, to hear the High-King pleading to be possessed is sweet music to my
ears.”

 

Dûrel shamelessly rubbed his length against Elrond’s abdomen, trying to get some sort of
stimulation out of it. He squirmed beneath the half-Elf, raising his hips once more, and
Elrond, lightning fast, pushed a pillow beneath him. “Oh, yes…” Probing fingers, slick
with oil slid up his cleft and expertly located the tight opening. An oiled finger slid
inside and he yelped in ecstasy. “I am ready for you!” How much longer would Elrond make
him beg?

Elrond coated his erection with oil, took up position between his lover’s parted legs,
and drew in a deep breath. “You are mine, my Liege. Only I will ever make you scream in
this way!” He positioned himself at the opening and pushed inside.

 

Dûrel’s eyes widened and he tried to speak, but Elrond’s lips instantly covered his.
Helpless, he could do little than permit his lover to take him. Elrond’s deep strokes
made him moan and he closed his eyes in surrender. Abandoning himself to Elrond’s
possessive thrusts, he weakly rocked along. Elrond continued to explore his mouth, not
giving him a chance to speak – to warn the half-Elf.

 

Dûrel was tight, and yet at the same time, the channel seemed to adapt, widening and
easily accommodating him. He should aim for the pleasure gland inside the passage, but
lost in ecstasy, Elrond let go. Grunting, he claimed what belonged to him and spilled his
seed deep inside his lover.

 

Dûrel yelped, louder this time, and finally Elrond released his lips from the domineering
kiss. “Elrond!” 

 

Floating on waves of bliss, Elrond didn’t register his lover’s alarmed tone at first. He
was more intent on staying inside his lover’s warmth as long as possible. He didn’t even
register the fact that Dûrel hadn’t found release. His lover had been correct – it had
been too long since they had made love and ancient urges had taken over.

 

“Elrond!” Fed up with his lover’s behavior, Dûrel began to push the half-Elf off of him.

 

Elrond’s eyes opened in surprise and worriedly stared into brown ones. “What… I did… Did
I hurt you..?” He had lost control again! Why did this always happen when he was making
love to Dûrel?

 

“Get off!”

 

Elrond frowned, hearing panic and fear in his lover’s voice instead of the satiated tone
he had expected to hear. “What is amiss, meleth2?”

 

“Do not take me in that way ever again!” Dûrel had finally managed to push Elrond off of
him and now turned onto his side, away from the half-Elf – hiding.

 

Elrond blinked. In what way? “Dûrel?” He climbed over his lover’s body and knelt in front
of Dûrel, who refused to make eye contact. “What are you trying to tell me?”

 

“I did not want you to find out,” whispered Dûrel, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. He
pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them.

 

Finally, Elrond realized the truth. “You are like Erestor? A hermaphrodite?” It was the
only conclusion which made sense! “Let me…” He tried to roll Dûrel onto his back, but his
lover fought him. “Meleth…” Elrond managed to establish eye contact and pressed a kiss
onto Dûrel’s lips. “We are mated… I am your lover… and a healer… Don’t you think I should
know?”

 

“I… I feel ashamed because of it.” Dûrel closed his eyes once more, unable to face
Elrond’s questioning gaze any longer. “I never wanted to be this way – to be different.”

 

“May I examine you? Please, meleth…” Elrond had eased himself down next to Dûrel and now
stroked the trembling back. “I love you and I do not want to make any mistakes, but I can
only do that when I know the full truth about you.”

 

Dûrel sighed and gave Elrond a bashful look. “You already discovered the truth about me…”
Making up his mind, he rolled onto his back and parted his legs. He shut his eyes,
firmly, and his face contorted, mentally preparing himself for the examination that would
follow. “Get it over with!”

 

Elrond hated seeing his lover in this way, but also realized this had to be done. The
healer inside him was curious to find out more about his lover’s anatomy, but the husband
in him wanted to cradle Dûrel close and assure him that this discovery didn’t matter, but
that would be a lie. It mattered. “I will be as gentle and as fast as I can, meleth.”
Moving in-between his lover’s legs, his fingers explored the area. His eyes widened, as
he encountered two openings instead of one. Both were slick with oil and he realized the
mistake he had made. He had prepared his lover, but had penetrated the wrong opening.
“This is quite fascinating…”

 

Dûrel bit his bottom lip. Didn’t Elrond understand how humiliating this was for him? Only
a few moments ago, he had been hard, willing, and craving his lover’s possession and now
his body sharply experienced emptiness. He hadn’t found release, unlike Elrond, and now
the half-Elf was touching him *there*.

 

Elrond sensed Dûrel’s discomfort and wished he could spare his lover this examination,
but he couldn’t. Instead, he would try to make it as pleasurable as possible. His fingers
found the vial again and he coated one finger with the substance. “Meleth, I need to
explore this in depth.” His lover’s reaction was to tense beneath him – a reaction which
he had to undo. He gently massaged his lover’s guardian ring and then let a fingertip
slide inside.

 

“What are you doing?” Dûrel’s eyes opened at feeling the penetration.

 

“Have you ever explored this yourself?” Just to be on the careful side, Elrond oiled
another finger and slowly inserted it into the second opening. Distracting Dûrel by
letting one fingertip rub his prostate, he used the opportunity to explore the second
opening more thoroughly. Much to his relief, he found that his lover was growing hard
again.

 

“Nay,” whispered Dûrel, panting hard as the double sensation made him feel weak and
needy. “I felt too ashamed…” He couldn’t help moving his hips when Elrond increased the
pressure inside his body. “What… Oh… oh!” He closed his eyes, threw back his head, and
surrendered to Elrond’s exploration, which was turning more invasive with the moment.

 

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Elrond to concentrate on examining his lover
now that Dûrel was reacting so passionately. “Meleth, have you ever experienced anything
like a fertility cycle?”

“Aye… It happened the year I reached my majority, but then it stopped. I tried to forget
it had ever happened.” Dûrel drove himself hard onto Elrond’s fingers, practically taking
himself and Elrond reacted by sliding another finger inside. Dûrel screamed his need,
finally reaching orgasm.

 

Elrond stilled his fingers inside his lover’s body and experienced the strangest
sensation ever. Contractions formed in both passages and from his lover’s erection
erupted warm cream. /Is he really like Erestor?/ An amazing thought came to him then.
/Can he conceive? Can he carry a child to term?/

 

“El…rond…” Dûrel whispered the name, needily, as the sensations overwhelmed him.

 

Slowly, Elrond removed his fingers. He moved closer to his lover and smiled, seeing Dûrel
had succumbed to the dual stimulation. “Did I exhaust you, my Liege?” Dûrel was drifting
into sleep. /Ah, that will give me a chance to have a closer look down there./ And then
what? What would he do with that knowledge? /Maybe devise new, never expected ways of
pleasuring you, meleth./

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“They cannot escape. Come to my rooms, Legolas.” Elrohir extended his hand, hoping to
convince Legolas that there was no reason to stand guard tonight. “Glorfindel is guarding
them, along with his best warriors.”

 

Legolas remained unconvinced, though. “They are Mirkwood’s problem, not Imladris’.”

 

“There is nothing like a separate Mirkwood any more, or Imladris for that matter.”
Elrohir clasped Legolas’ hand in his and pulled the blond Elf toward him. “We are one
Kingdom again, ruled by a new High-King.”

 

Legolas shook his head. “Elrohir, it was Oropher who unleashed them. My father plans to
take them back to Mirkwood to see justice done.”

 

Elrohir didn’t react with words – instead, he pulled Legolas into his arms. “We will deal
with them later. These have been tiring hours and we should rest. The journey to Mirkwood
will take weeks and we should try to sleep now that we still can.”

 

“Your words are true,” admitted Legolas, who allowed Elrohir to pull him down the
corridor. He looked over his shoulder, convincing himself that all the guards were still
in place.

 

“You can put your trust in Glorfindel. He won’t let them escape.” Elrohir had succeeded
in pulling Legolas along and he rounded the corridor, heading for the family wing. “We
should forget about them for now.”

 

Legolas followed Elrohir when the half-Elf entered his rooms. He had been relieved to
learn that the twins no longer shared rooms, like they had done during childhood for it
meant they now had privacy. “What is there to discuss?” Legolas arched an eyebrow,
watching Elrohir shedding his clothes. The cloak and tunic went first and now the half-
Elf was undoing the lacing of his leggings. He had dreamt of seeing Elrohir naked, of
finally having the half-Elf to himself, but now that the moment had arrived, he felt shy.

 

“Aren’t you going to undress? You cannot sleep comfortably in that garb!” Elrohir removed
his boots and socks and then stepped out of his leggings. He sat down on the bed, pulled
back the covers and lay down. Patting the space beside him, he whispered his beloved’s
name, “Legolas?”

 

Legolas shuffled his feet, but then removed his tunic. “Elrohir, I…”

 

“It is the same way for me,” said Elrohir, understanding his beloved’s fear. “I feel the
same way.”

 

Legolas’ blue eyes sought out gray ones. “You never had a lover before?”

 

“I have not,” acknowledged Elrohir. The Woodland Elf had finally removed all garments and
stood naked in front of him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, melethron3.” Elrohir
actually licked his lips, seeing how well-endowed the Prince of his heart was. Legolas
turned – giving him an excellent view of the compact, well-formed buttocks – and then
headed toward the bed.

 

Desire ran through Elrohir’s veins and pooled in his groin, but he controlled his
reactions when Legolas slipped beneath the covers beside him. It was obvious that Legolas
wanted to take this slow and he would follow Legolas’ pace.

 

It was Elrohir’s intention to wrap himself around Legolas and to fold him in a protective
embrace, but his lover apparently had the same plan. In the end, Elrohir resigned himself
to his beloved’s embrace and snuggled close. Resting his head against Legolas’ shoulder,
he released a deep and contented sigh. “All will be well, I promise, melethron.”

 

Legolas closed his eyes and concentrated on deeply inhaling his lover’s scent. “I hope
you will grow used to living in Mirkwood. It is quite different from Imladris.”

 

Elrohir frowned against Legolas’ shoulder. “Are you afraid I will become homesick?”

 

“There is always that chance,” admitted Legolas, whose long, nimble fingers buried
themselves in Elrohir’s dark mane. “But I was rather thinking of the more dangerous sides
to Mirkwood. The spiders… And the darkness that emanates from Dol Guldur.”

 

“We will face those dangers together, Legolas.”

 

Legolas nodded once, kissed the crown of Elrohir’s head and hoped his lover was strong
enough to deal with the darkness that was slowly creeping closer to Mirkwood, affecting
all life there. “And I love you, my precious Elrohir.”

 

Elrohir giggled being called that and relaxed in Legolas’ arms. Aye, he was convinced
that they would work out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Thranduil hated feeling indecisive. His heart was urging him to seek out Lindir and
convince the minstrel to accompany him to Mirkwood, but his mind told him to leave Lindir
in peace. The minstrel was happy here in Imladris, had found his home here and it would
hardly be fair to ask Lindir to leave all this behind just to live with him in Mirkwood.

 

“Ada4?” Legolas had been looking for his father and the last place he had expected to
find Thranduil was in the Hall of Fire, where the Mirkwood King was staring at the
abandoned fire place. “We are ready to leave.” He walked up to his father, rested his
hands on Thranduil’s shoulders and slowly turned him around. “Something troubles you.”

 

Thranduil forced himself to smile. “I lost my heart here, Legolas.” Only too late did he
realize that Legolas might not like hearing this admission. “Oh, I loved your mother, it
is just…”

 

Legolas cocked his head, searched the emerald eyes and encountered loneliness in them.
That loneliness had been there as long as he could remember. “Ada, I know that you loved
her. I would never doubt that.” Seeing the relieved expression on his father’s face, he
added, “But, I must admit to being surprised. You lost your heart to an Elf who resides
here?” His father had never spoken of a romantic interest before. He knew that losing his
wife had deeply affected Thranduil, who had still been rather young when she had died.
“Is it someone I know?”

 

“You are not cross with me?” Thranduil hesitantly met his son’s azure eyes.

 

“Why would I be cross?” Oh, he should have expected that reaction! “Ada, it is my
greatest desire that you find happiness and love again. You deserve that.”

 

“Why are we discussing this?” Thranduil sighed. “It is not like he will be a part of my
life. His life is here in Imladris and it would be folly on his part to desert this safe
haven in exchange for the dangers of Mirkwood.”

 

“Does he know that you are leaving?” Legolas was mildly surprised to hear it was a male
his father had lost his heart to. Considering his father’s history, he had expected
Thranduil to fall for a She-Elf.

 

“Aye, he does… At first, I thought I wanted him to come with me, but the more I thought
about it, the better I think it is that he stays here.” Thranduil drew in a deep breath,
pushed a wayward strand of hair back into a braid and straightened his tunic. “We ought
to leave now. We should not keep them waiting.”

 

Legolas leaned in closer and wrapped his father in a loving embrace. “Maybe you should
ask him to travel to Mirkwood with us. I want you to be happy.”

 

“Oh, Legolas… I would have lost my sanity a long time ago, if it hadn’t been for you.
After your mother died I thought I no longer had a reason to live, but you were still so
tiny, so needy… I knew I had found a reason to remain on Arda when I held you in my arms
that first time.” He hadn’t realized it until now, but Elrond and he were similar in more
ways than he had believed possible – they had both lost their wives.

 

Legolas released his father and steered Thranduil toward the doorway. “You might want to
know that Elrohir is coming with us.”

 

“Saying goodbye must be hard on his family.” Thranduil couldn’t imagine what his
emotional pain would be like should Legolas ever leave Mirkwood permanently.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Elrohir, won’t you reconsider?” His son’s request to be allowed to leave for Mirkwood
had come as quite a shock to Elrond.

 

Elladan and Arwen weren’t taking the news any better than their father and stared at the
youngest twin in disbelief.

 

“Maybe Legolas and you can stay here for a while?” That was the other thing that had
rocked Elrond’s world; the fact that Elrohir had taken Legolas as his lover. Although he
rejoiced for his son for having found love, his heart ached, realizing that a part of
Elrohir was lost to him from this moment on. It now belonged to Legolas.

 

“Elrohir, you cannot be serious!” Elladan smacked his fist onto the table. “You cannot
leave like this!”

 

“Why not?” Elrohir turned to face his brother. “You are Imladris’ heir, Elladan. And Ada
still has Arwen and you.”

 

“Elrohir!” Elrond gave his youngest son the famous ‘eyebrow’. “No one can take your
place!”

 

“Ada, I know you mean well,” said Elrohir, kneeling in front of the elder half-Elf. “But
can’t you understand that I want to be with the one I love?” Elrohir was cross with
himself for waiting so long to inform his family. He should have told them the moment
Legolas had accepted his love. “You also waited a long time before telling us about
Dûrel, Ada. How can you be cross with me for doing the same?” Seeing Elrond’s expression,
he knew he was treading on thin ice.

 

“My situation greatly differed from yours!” Elrond’s eyes narrowed, hearing Arwen clear
her throat. “What?”

 

“Ada, you did exactly the same thing.” Arwen had had time to consider her father’s new
mate and Glorfindel’s words had helped her to put everything into perspective. She no
longer objected to her father’s romantic relationship and couldn’t help teasing him with
it – it was her way of getting some payback.

 

“That is not relevant at the moment!” Elrond focused his attention on his youngest son
once more. “When will you leave?”

 

“Within the hour. I will…”

 

“What?” Elladan cut his twin short. “That quickly?”

 

“They are leaving for Mirkwood, Elladan. I will be safer traveling with them than later
on without an escort.” Elrohir gave his twin a compassionate look. “Oh, tôr5, you should
know that we will always be in contact. I love you, Elladan. And you, Arwen, and you,
Ada, but my heart now tells me to be with Legolas. Don’t you understand that?”

 

The Peredhil nodded their heads – aye, they understood, but that still didn’t make it any
easier to accept. “You will visit with us regularly?” asked Elladan, who had taken hold
of his twin’s hand. So far, he refused to let go – he needed reassurance first.

 

“Of course I will. Legolas and I already agreed to return here in six month’s time.”
Elrohir rubbed his brother’s knuckles. “You knew that we would not always be together,
Elladan. The time has come to go separate paths.”

 

“Aye, I always knew… I just never expected it to be *you* to leave.” Elladan had always
thought he would be the one to find love first.

 

Arwen walked up to Elrohir and pulled him into an embrace. “You’ve promised to visit in
six month’s time… We will keep you to that promise.”

Elrohir nodded and hugged her close. “I could never stay away for long.”

 

Elrond shakily got to his feet. “I never thought I would be saying goodbye to one of my
children – at least not so soon… Not like this.” But he understood the call of love – he
had followed it himself and it taken him to Dûrel. How could he deny his son a similar
love? “Always return home to me, do you hear me?” Arwen had let go of Elrohir and now
Elrond enfolded his son into a hug. “Always come back to me.”

 

“I will, Ada,” promised Elrohir, smiling into Elrond’s hair. Hopefully they understood
that he didn’t love them less just because he loved Legolas as well.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Dûrel? Meleth?” Elrond closed the door behind him and his eyes searched the bedroom –
the place where he had last seen his lover. He found Dûrel seated on the windowsill,
knees pulled up and head resting on top of them. He was wrapped in a blanket and his
expression was one of misery, urging Elrond closer. He seated himself opposite Dûrel and
tried to catch his lover’s gaze. “Please talk to me?”

 

Dûrel drew in a deep breath. “What is there to say?” He still avoided making eye contact,
feeling ashamed now that Elrond had uncovered his secret. His long, dark hair descended
in front of his face, effectively shielding his expression.

 

“You could start by telling me why you feel ashamed. It is a most wondrous gift you have
been given.” Elrond slowly curled his fingers around his lover’s and felt encouraged when
Dûrel allowed the contact.

 

“I do not wish to talk about it,” said Dûrel, looking outside and seeing the Mirkwood
party gather. They would leave shortly, taking the five assassins with them.

 

“Why do you feel ashamed? Did Erestor ever give you the impression that he was ashamed of
his condition?”

 

“I did not know about his condition,” replied Dûrel, wishing Elrond would stop discussing
this matter.

 

“If it had not been for Erestor being a hermaphrodite you would never have come into
existence, meleth.” Elrond wondered how to reach – truly reach – his lover. “You should
rejoice… You have been given a rare gift.”

 

Suddenly Dûrel understood what Elrond was trying to say and his big eyes found his
lover’s. “Do you seriously think that I am the same? That I can conceive and carry a
child to term?”

 

“I cannot be completely certain until it actually happens, but aye, I think so. Erestor
had you, so there is no reason to assume you could not have children of your own. Would
you like that?” /Would I like that? Would I like to have more children?/ He had never
considered this possibility, not after his wife had sailed West.

 

“I do not wish to have any children,” said Dûrel, firmly. For one moment, the façade
broke and he told Elrond the truth. “Our people made me their High-King. Can you imagine
what their reaction would be like if they found out I was pregnant? Can you hear their
laughter?”

 

“Is that it? Is that the reason why you did not want me to find out?” Elrond scooted
closer and twined a strand of his lover’s hair around his ring finger. A finger which was
barren now, as Dûrel wore Vilya. The ring had finally settled down, becoming its normal
self again.

 

“You must understand that for a long time I thought I would not find a mate. It never
occurred to me to tell you.”

 

Elrond nodded once. If he hadn’t been so pre-occupied with his own problems he might have
noticed his lover’s different anatomy back then, but their actions had been rushed.
“Would you have told me? In time?”


”Maybe… But you discovered my secret yourself.” Dûrel shivered as the five assassins were
lead onto the courtyard, bound with iron and gagged. “My condition is of little
importance now.”

 

“It is of huge importance,” protested Elrond, who caught sight of the party as well. “It
is a matter, which we need to discuss in depth, but *after* we have said goodbye to
Elrohir and Lindir.” He wouldn’t let this rest and would get to the bottom of the matter.
He wouldn’t allow Dûrel to pretend nothing was amiss.

 

Elrond’s words registered with Dûrel, who gave the half-Elf a surprised look. “Elrohir?”
He didn’t know Lindir personally – he had only heard the minstrel sing on one occasion
and the fact that the white-haired Elf was leaving had no importance to him. But hearing
Elrohir was also leaving startled him. “Why is Elrohir leaving?”

“He forgot to tell me that he had fallen in love with Legolas and that he is now
accompanying the Prince to Mirkwood where he will spend the next six months.”

Dûrel picked up on the sharp sting in Elrond’s voice. “And you disapprove of his love?”

“Not his love – of his tactics. He waited until the last moment to tell us.” Elrond rose
from the windowsill and extended his hand. “I assume that you want to say goodbye as
well?”

“Aye, I do.” Dûrel allowed Elrond to pull him to his feet. He then made his way over to
the bed, picked up his father’s cloak and draped it across his shoulders. The circlet
however, stayed on the nightstand. “I will miss him.” Hearing that Elrohir was leaving
had been a shock to Elrond and now it was Dûrel who felt equally shocked, hearing the
news at such short notice. 

 

“We will all miss him,” whispered Elrond in a sad voice, but then Dûrel wrapped an arm
around him and he leaned into the comfort his lover offered. “I wish he would stay.”

 

Dûrel opened the door and the two Elves walked down the corridor. A moment later, they
joined Elladan and Arwen, who were still saying their temporary goodbyes to Elrohir.

 

Legolas inclined his head in respect, catching sight of Dûrel. “Sire…”

 

They all grew quiet and Dûrel realized they expected him to speak. “May your journey be
swift and free of danger, Legolas.” From the corner of his eye, he eyed the five
assassins. Some of them still carried injuries, but they all looked eager to get their
hands on him. He would feel a lot safer once they were locked up in Mirkwood. “Where is
your father? I do not see him.”

 

“I do not know,” replied Legolas, frowning. He stood in the stirrups and scanned his
surroundings and at the same time Dûrel and Elrond said their goodbyes to Elrohir.

 

“My son, be safe…” Elrond pressed a fatherly kiss onto Elrohir’s forehead and then
watched his son mount his gelding. “Always return to me, remember that. Remember your
promise.”

 

A lump of fierce emotions built in Elrohir’s throat and he swallowed convulsively, trying
to rid himself of the suffocation sensation. “Ada, Erestor… Oh, I am sorry, Dûrel…”

 

“I understand,” replied Dûrel, smiling. “You may always call me Erestor.”

 

“It takes some time getting used to calling you Dûrel,” explained Elrohir. “I will always
think of you as Erestor.”

 

Dûrel placed a hand on Elrohir’s knee and gave the younger half-Elf a reassuring squeeze.
“Do you really love Legolas?”

 

“More than life itself,” replied Elrohir, firmly.

 

Legolas, overhearing their conversation, smiled brightly. Aye, Elrohir loved him and they
would be happy in Mirkwood. If only he could locate his father! Legolas turned and
finally discovered his father. For one moment – just before Thranduil pushed his mask in
place – Legolas saw how miserable his father really was. /I am sorry, Ada. I want you to
be happy and to find love./ But his hands were tied. He knew that his father wouldn’t
have him meddling in his relationships.

 

By the time Thranduil reached the party, his mask was firmly in place. Elrond had already
seen too much of the pain that hid beneath his façade and Thranduil didn’t want to reveal
more of his feelings. “Are we ready to depart?” he asked his son.

 

Legolas nodded once. “I believe that we are complete.” To his right, Elrond bestowed a
last hug onto Elrohir and Legolas felt emotional himself, seeing how much heartbreak
shone from Elrond’s eyes. The half-Elf loved his youngest son dearly.

 

“Be careful,” said Elladan, raising his hand in goodbye now that the group was moving. “I
won’t be there to watch your back, tôr.”

 

“*I* will watch his back,” promised Legolas and those words earned him a thankful look
from Elladan.

 

“Wait for me!” Lindir steered his chestnut mare, closer to Thranduil’s white stallion,
Feruilos.

 

Thranduil’s jaw almost hit the ground, seeing Lindir dressed in comfortable riding
clothing. The minstrel was dressed in greens and white and was even armed with a bow and
a sword. The long, white hair had been forced into single pony tail and the blue eyes
twinkled confidently. “What are you doing here? Dressed like that?”

 

“Thranduil, what do you think I am doing here?” Lindir cocked his head as if saying;
‘Think! It is not that hard to guess!’

 

“Lindir, nay, you cannot do this!” Thranduil’s heart sped up. This couldn’t be happening!
“It is dangerous on the road! Do you even know how to use that bow? You are…?” He didn’t
get a chance to finish that last sentence as an arrow flew just past him.

 

“You were saying?” Lindir looked challengingly into Thranduil’s eyes.

 

Elrond cleared his throat and then said, “I require from the members of my household that
they have some basic weapons’ skill in case of an attack. And Lindir has proven to be
quite a capable archer.”

 

“Lindir, what madness has taken you?”

 

“No madness, Thranduil. Common sense told me that I should not let you leave without me.
I already discussed this matter with Lord Elrond and he released me from his service.”

 

“Legolas? What is happening?” Elrohir leaned in closer to whisper those words into his
lover’s ear.

 

“My father fell in love with your minstrel and it appears Lindir is just as stubborn as
my father. He is coming to Imladris with us.” Legolas smiled. He had hoped that this
would happen!

 

“Lindir, you cannot come to Mirkwood with me! You do not know the dangers involved!” But
oh, he wanted Lindir at his side so badly!

 

“Thranduil, I am coming with you. Accept it. You won’t be able to change my mind.” Lindir
smiled, sweetly innocent, but knew that his smile wouldn’t fool Thranduil. “What are we
waiting for?” Lindir’s mare moved forward and Feruilos followed without his rider telling
him so.

 

Realizing that Lindir would do as he pleased Thranduil accepted the minstrel’s decision.
/Elbereth, thank you for sending him my way./ Maybe with Lindir at his side he could face
the demons of old and successfully battle them.

 

 

1  meldir (male) -– friend (Sindarin, noun)

2 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun) 

3  melethron –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun)

4 Ada  –- dad, daddy, papa (Sindarin, noun)

5 tôr (sing.) –- brother (Sindarin, noun)

From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin dictionary

 

OC Names:

Dûrel - Dark Star

Saerif – Bitter Bark

Feruilos – white tree – Thranduil’s white stallion