Summary: Glorfindel returns home from patrol to find a party and a prince.

Erestor stood on the periphery of the dance floor. The Hall of Fire was performing the role it was meant to play; it was hosting a party. The Prince of Mirkwood had arrived on his first official trip and a lavish celebration was being thrown in his honor. Elves, male and female alike, swirled and twirled on the dance floor as music danced upon the air. Elrond sat upon the small, informal dais, smiling at his guests as he enjoyed the music. His sons sat beside him, Elladan and Elrohir were smiling at the prince as Arwen talked quietly with him.

Erestor was dressed in his customary black robes, his raven hair pulled behind his head and held with a jeweled clip. His hands were clasped in front of him, long fingers interlocked as he watched the guests with bored detachment. He hated these formal gatherings; it was like working during his off-hours. If he could not throw decorum to the wind, he would rather be reading a good book. He gazed upon the prince with mild curiosity. The heir to the throne of Mirkwood, such as it was, had certainly inherited his father's beauty and charm. Arwen was ever the gracious hostess, and polite as Prince Legolas was, he could see his attention was focused elsewhere. It took quite a bit to draw attention away from Arwen. The Evenstar was resplendent as ever in her pale blue gown and silver beaded headdress. However, Legolas' gaze was drawn away time and again by Elladan and Elrohir. Erestor did not know what Thranduil's preference was for evening entertainment, but he could see that Legolas preferred the male variety.

"Tread carefully, young prince," Erestor murmured. "You know not what you are playing with."

"Do you?"

Glorfindel's deep voice caused Erestor to jump. The warrior was the only one who could sneak up on him. He began to turn around, but Glorfindel grasped his shoulders and kept him facing forward. "Glorfindel," he breathed. "You startled me..."

"Caught you daydreaming, did I? Perhaps fantasizing about a certain young prince?"

"Daydreaming? About Prince Legolas? Do not be foolish," Erestor grumbled. "What are you doing here? I thought your patrol was not returning for another two days."

"We came home early. All was quiet and the new troops were anxious to go on duty." Glorfindel murmured next to Erestor's ear, "I just arrived. I took the time to bathe and change clothes before coming to meet the prince."

"Thank the Valar, you always smell so delightful after spending a fortnight in the woods." Erestor's eyes widened as he felt Glorfindel press against his back. The warrior's hands came to rest upon his hips and his chin upon his shoulder. "I am surprised that you came, I know how you loathe these formal affairs," he continued quietly.

Glorfindel chuckled and answered, "No more than you do, my friend." Glorfindel breathed in Erestor's scent and smiled. " Mmm... Orange and vanilla, you smell good enough to eat, counselor."

Erestor drew a soft shuddering breath as Glorfindel's hands stroked his hips, hoping the sound was covered by the soft rustling of velvet. "Glorfindel, what are you doing?"

"What does it feel like I am doing? I am attempting to seduce you, though apparently I am failing miserably."

"We are at a formal affair, the guests can see us!" Erestor gasped under his breath.

"Or perhaps I have fallen out of favor with you; perhaps my charms have worn thin so soon."

"I..." Erestor stammered. It was just like Glorfindel to be so blunt and forward.

"Excuse me, my friend. I must go introduce myself to the prince."

Glorfindel left Erestor standing on the edge of the dance floor feeling flushed and over-heated as he watched Glorfindel cross the floor toward the dais. Erestor watched as Glorfindel knelt before the prince, covering his heart with his hand. Legolas was understandably impressed; there were few that were not upon meeting Glorfindel. The way the prince smiled at Glorfindel, the subtle way he tilted his head caused Erestor to flush even more from envy.

"Really, Glorfindel," he murmured to himself. "Must you be such a rogue?"

An official that had arrived from Lórien approached, and Erestor tried to escape but saw that it was too late. He would now be cornered and trapped into a conversation about political alliances and trade negotiations for the rest of the evening.

* * * *

The music had stopped and the guests retired by the time Erestor finally escaped the Lórien diplomat. He walked down the long, dark corridors toward his room, rubbing his temples. He had lost sight of Glorfindel not long after the tiresome Silvan had cornered him and he found himself imaging the Elda luxuriating in the prince's bed. He was both confused and surprised at his own reactions. Ever since the fateful night of the wager, he had often found his thoughts drifting toward Glorfindel in ways they had not before. The Elda was a wonderful lover, but Erestor had wonderful lovers before. What was so different this time? What was so different about this one, fleeting encounter?

He found himself in front of the Elda's door, gazing at the warm glow of firelight that spilled from underneath the door. He leaned forward, pressing his ear to the door to see if Glorfindel had company, so he was in a somewhat awkward position when that door opened.

"Oh!"

He tried to catch himself but pitched forward, missing the doorjamb with fingers. He fell squarely into Glorfindel's arms, his face getting mashed against the warrior's strong, bare chest.

"Erestor, what a pleasant surprise." Glorfindel fought not to laugh as he held the counselor by the arms and looked down upon the top of his head.

Erestor quickly regained his feet, smoothing his robe and straightening his hair. "I was just passing by and thought I heard the sound of an elf in distress."

A broad grin curved Glorfindel's lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that so? Strange, I heard nothing besides your footsteps halting outside my door."

"My footsteps," Erestor huffed. "You knew it was me, did you?"

"Of course," Glorfindel answered. "I have been listening to those footsteps for over two ages, I would recognize them anywhere."

"And how is that?" Erestor now crossed his arms over his chest and raised a single raven brow.

"You walk from heel to toe, with more of your weight on the outside of your foot than on the inside, and there are longer pauses in between footfalls than with your average elf."

Erestor looked down at his feet, the eyebrow still arched. "Really? I do?"

Glorfindel chuckled. "Yes, Erestor, you do. What happened to you? After chatting with the prince, I saw you were not where I left you."

"I was supposed to wait for you, was I? Like a good, trained elf?"

"No, Erestor. You were not supposed to wait for me. You seemed comfortable in that spot, if you can be comfortable anywhere. I expected you to be there, that is all I meant."

Erestor grumbled and shifted his weight onto one leg. "I was cornered by Lord Celeborn's foreign trade ambassador. He pulled me aside and questioned me for the better part of two hours about grain shipments and wine harvests." He peered around the warrior's shoulder. "Have I interrupted something? You are in a state of undress."

"No, I was just preparing to retire for the evening. Come inside and have a brandy with me."

"No, no... You must be tired after patrol. I will be going."

"Come inside."

"No, really, it is late, I should be..."

"Erestor!"

"What!"

"For Eru's sake, come in and have a drink with me."

"Fine."

Erestor crossed the threshold into Glorfindel's chamber. His eyes drifted to the turned down bed, remembering the last time he was in this particular room. He could not stop the smile that curved his lips when he saw the wreath that Glorfindel wore that night hanging from one of the bedposts.

"Something amusing?"

Erestor turned and took the proffered glass of brandy. "I was just noticing the change in decor." He motioned toward the wreath.

Glorfindel smiled. "Ah yes, that. I have fond memories of that evening."

Erestor took a sip of the brandy and muttered, "Indeed." He moved to the doorway that led onto the balcony and gazed out over the gardens.

"Am I the only one?"

Erestor shivered as the cool air drifted in through the window. "What do you mean? The only one what?"

Glorfindel sighed. "That has fond memories of that evening... Sweet Elbereth, Erestor, must you make this so difficult?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if it were easy you would not appreciate me so much."

"Who says I appreciate you now?"

"I do. If you did not, I would not be here and we would not be having this conversation."

"So, this is how it is to be, is it? Me forever chasing, you forever evading. Forgive me if I sound annoyed but I am the one doing all the work here. If you find my company to be such a chore then..."

"Chore? Whatever do you mean? I have never said that."

"Erestor."

"What?"

"Being coy only works the first time. I have had you, I know what it is I am pursuing."

"Ah, I see. I am not worth any effort. I understand, I mean with all the lovers you have competing for your affections, I will not be missed." He sat his goblet down and walked toward the door.

"Erestor. Erestor, wait. Eres..."

Erestor wheeled around. "What!"

He gasped as Glorfindel grabbed him and crushed him against his chest, hungrily claiming his mouth. A soft moan escaped him before he could stop it, and the Elda deepened the kiss. Glorfindel's hands tangled in his hair and he arched against him, his hands clutching at the warrior's bare back. He gasped as Glorfindel released his mouth and he whispered, "I hate you, you know this."

"There is a reason I do not have company when I had a roomful of males and females to choose from."

"I hate you for making me feel this way, for making me act this way."

"The reason is that I want you. I came to the party for you. I left alone because of you."

"You are a loathsome elf. A braggart, a swaggering rogue who makes me feel as if my head will burst."

"Hate me if you must, but do not leave. Heap your abuse upon me, I can take it. Berate me, insult me, I can take it. But do not walk out and leave me alone this night, for that I cannot take."

Erestor gazed into Glorfindel's eyes and he saw the confusion and the fear that lurked in their azure depths. "I do not want to lose my friend..." he said softly.

"You will never lose my friendship, Erestor. That, I promise you."

"I am afraid," he whispered.

"So am I," Glorfindel answered. "Stay with me, please," Glorfindel murmured against his lips. "I will do anything you ask, just do not walk out on me in anger."

"I will not leave."

Glorfindel lifted Erestor and carried him to the bed, sitting him down upon the edge. He pulled off the advisor's shoes and began unbuttoning his robe. Erestor watched him with a mixture of fear, sadness and excitement. He had never known Glorfindel to admit to vulnerability, nor had Glorfindel ever begged him to do anything. This unknown side of Glorfindel scared him, for the responsibility that came with witnessing that vulnerability was the most frightening thing he could imagine.

"I do not wish to hurt you," he murmured.

"You will not," Glorfindel answered.

"I fear I will. I do not know how to do this, I do not know what to say..."

"Nor do I. We will learn together, Erestor. I trust you in this as I trust you with my life."

Erestor smiled sadly and caressed the Elda's face. "You are always so young, just like you were in Lindon, just like you were in Aman. No matter how old you get, you always stay young."

Glorfindel smiled. "It is the only way I know how to be..." He slipped the robe off Erestor's shoulders, exposing the counselor's milky skin to his eyes.

Erestor stood up, allowing the robe to fall to the floor as he reached for Glorfindel. His lover stepped forward into his arms and he caressed the warrior's alabaster skin. His hands roamed over his shoulders and arms, over the sculpted curves of his chest and the rippled muscles of his abdomen. He absently stepped out of his leggings and allowed Glorfindel to lift him back up onto the bed. He was driven to distraction by the Elda's body, by the curves and hardness of it, by its suppleness, its strength, and its beauty. After knowing the warrior for over two ages as a brother in arms, as an adversary at times and an annoyance at others, he found he did not really know him at all. This Glorfindel, this warm, soft, passionate creature he was with now was an enigma.

Glorfindel brought his naked body to rest atop Erestor's. He caressed the counselor's face with his hands and his lips. "So beautiful," he murmured. "Visions of your raven hair and silver eyes haunted me all the nights of my patrol."

Erestor wrapped his arms around his lover and whispered, "I missed you..."

Glorfindel slipped from his arms, working his way down his body with his mouth and his hands. Erestor arched beneath him, smiling when he felt like crying, moaning when he felt like screaming. He melted in Glorfindel's hands, his resolve, his pride, all ebbing from him. The words danced at the tip of his tongue, words he had never said, words that frightened him beyond imagining.

"Yes..." he whispered as Glorfindel pressed his mouth to his length, "please, yes..."

Glorfindel gave him pleasure unlike any he had ever felt, he burned and ached for him, he was desperate for him, he loved him. As his lover entered his body, he smiled, feeling both frightened and whole at once. He had never been touched like this, kissed like this, held like this in his life. It was as if the ages of time that had passed, that the two lifetimes he had spent with Glorfindel were but a prelude to the true purpose of their being; that this moment, this was the purpose for them both. I love you, was what he said in his mind, though he would not allow himself to give the words voice.

As he lay in his lover's arms, listening to his heartbeat beneath his ear, he thought of the thousands of years that had passed, of the death and violence, of the fear and pain. He remembered how his heart broke upon Crissaegrim when he witnessed his friend's destruction. He remembered the joy in his heart upon seeing him in Lindon. As he stroked Glorfindel's chest, he vowed not to let fear stun him into inaction again. And he knew with sobering clarity that he could not live with out him.

To be continued...

Summary: The morning after the party, Glorfindel and Erestor wake in each other's arms and fumble ahead. The twins entertain Legolas.

Erestor blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He took a deep breath and stretched, feeling Glorfindel's warm body curled against him. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. The Elda's azure eyes gazed back at him and his lips curved into a smile.

"You have slept late this morning," Glorfindel murmured. "You normally beat me down to the dining hall."

"I am normally asleep at a reasonable hour," Erestor answered.

"Was that not reasonable?"

"What? The hour or the act?"

Glorfindel smiled. "Either. Both."

"Neither was reasonable, but the act was delicious."

Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Erestor's waist. "You are just saying that so I won't become petulant."

"Yes, you are correct. It is far too early for petulance." He sighed and snuggled back against Glorfindel. "What was that thing you did with your tongue?"

Glorfindel laughed aloud. "Oh, Erestor. Will I ever understand you?"

"Most likely not. It is part of my allure." Erestor smiled. After a pause he said quietly, "I am glad you are home. It is far too quiet when you are gone."

"I am glad I am home as well," Glorfindel answered. "Particularly since you are here in my bed."

"Yes, well there is that as well."

"Erestor?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sorry?"

"For what?"

"For... never mind."

Erestor rolled over and swallowed the lump in his throat. "You mean about last night?"

Glorfindel looked away. "Forget that I said anything. It was a foolish question."

"Are you?"

"No."

Erestor reached up and turned Glorfindel's face back to his own. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. It is strange though..."

"What?"

"I did not know I wanted you until that night. Now I find I want you more than anyone else, I find I want you every hour of every day."

Erestor smiled. "I am quite fit for my age, but I am not sure I can do that."

Glorfindel smiled sadly. "I am sorry, I am not good with words like you are. I cannot express myself so effortlessly."

"Glorfindel."

"What?"

"You express yourself quite well, you always have. All I ask of you is that you are honest with me, like you always have been."

"I will be, Erestor. I could never lie to you."

Erestor wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's waist and snuggled against his chest. "Good."

* * * *

Legolas followed the twins down the narrow path toward the river, pausing now and again to marvel at the beauty that was Imladris. It was so different from his home. Everything was bright and the cliffsides were impossibly steep and high. The trees were smaller and sparser here; but everything else was larger, including the sky. The air was crisp that morning and he paused to adjust his pack. He breathed deep, smelling the snow and cedar that drifted down from the mountains, then he looked up the path in the direction the twins were taking him. Elladan was not too far ahead and Elrohir was right behind him.

"Are you weary? Shall we take a respite?" Elrohir asked.

"No," Legolas answered. "I was merely adjusting my pack and admiring my surroundings."

Elrohir brushed the flaxen hair from Legolas' cheek. "Your face is flushed."

Legolas smiled. "It is the crisp air. I find it invigorating."

Elrohir smiled. "Indeed. Shall we?" He motioned up the path toward Elladan.

Legolas nodded and they continued on their way. As Anor rose higher in the sky and the clouds began to thin, they reached their destination. A small meadow at the edge of a pond was where they were to break their morning fast; a waterfall fed the pond and the spray was quite cool. Elrohir spread their blankets in the sun, just out of range of the spray from the falls, as Elladan unpacked their supplies. Legolas stood in the center of the meadow, his head hanging back as he looked up at the wide blue sky.

"He is passing fair," Elladan murmured low enough that he thought Legolas could not hear him.

"Aye. Nevertheless, he is a prince, Elladan. We must tread carefully or risk problems later on," Elrohir answered.

"Do you think he wants us to tread carefully?"

"I think we better let him decide what he wants."

"He is fairly young, perhaps he does not know what he wants."

"Somehow, I think that one has always known exactly what he wants."

Legolas heard the murmuring between the twins, but he could not decipher what was being said. He was no stranger to flirtation, or to pleasure really, but one would not call him fully acquainted with it either. The twins were the most beautiful elves he had ever laid eyes upon, and being soldiers themselves, he found they had much to talk about. They were intelligent, funny, friendly, and their reputation as orc slayers had spread far across Middle-earth. He was utterly fascinated by them, and he looked forward to getting to know them better during his stay.

He was most fascinated by their faces, mirror images of one another with large gray eyes, finely sculpted cheekbones and noses, and the fullest, ripest lips he had ever seen on males. All that unusual beauty was framed by thick sable hair with fine streaks of auburn mixed in. They were indeed beautiful, and that beauty belied their deadly nature. He supposed that came from their father. Master Elrond was most often thought of as a scholar. Since it had been several hundred years since the Lord of Imladris had walked upon a battlefield, many seemed to have forgotten that he was once a fearsome warrior as well.

Legolas stretched his arms over his head and breathed deep. This was a lovely way to spend the day after his long ride from Mirkwood and the long party last night. He looked forward to the peace and quiet of the woods, and to getting to know the twins better.

"Legolas, our meal is ready," Elladan called.

A smiled curved his lips and he turned. "Coming," he answered.

* * * *

Erestor entered the dining hall a few minutes behind Glorfindel. As he entered the room, he saw the Elda sitting in his customary place at the table, sipping a mug of hot tea and chatting with their lord. He moved to the sideboard and filled his plate with muffins, fruit, a poached egg, and a slice of cheese. A member of the kitchen staff poured tea for him as he took his seat.

"Well then, we are an elf of leisure today are we, Erestor?" Elrond teased. "Half of our visitors have come and gone already. You are emerging quite late this morning, are you not?"

"My apologies, my lord," Erestor answered. "I had difficulty sleeping last night and, as a consequence, have overslept this morning."

Glorfindel grinned as he brought the mug of tea to his lips and Erestor felt the urge to kick him under the table.

"Lord Celeborn's ambassador was looking for you earlier, as the prince was looking for Glorfindel. It seems they were quite taken with the two of you last night, and I thought perhaps that was why you were so late this morning." Elrond continued to tease his advisor.

"I do not know what you mean, my lord. We said goodnight after the party," Erestor answered.

"Really? You look different this morning, Erestor. You look rejuvenated... I thought perhaps you and Lord Celeborn's advisor might have..."

"Master Elrond! I am not in the habit of discussing my private life at the breakfast table!"

Elrond smiled and put his hands up in acquiescence. Glorfindel could no longer contain himself and laughed aloud, shaking his head.

"My apologies, Erestor," Elrond answered. "I did not mean to pry. I asked Glorfindel the same questions this morning, with the expected answers. I was merely trying to strike up a conversation."

Erestor's eyes widened as he looked at Glorfindel. Had the Elda revealed that they spent the night together? From the wolfish grin on the warrior's lips, he feared that might be the case, as it was not like Glorfindel to spin false tales of liaisons. He wondered if Glorfindel might have told their lord of their encounter in response to Elrond's teasing about Legolas.

"And what was Lord Glorfindel's answer?" Erestor asked hesitantly.

"That I was up rather late last night entertaining a guest, and that was the reason I was late for the morning meal," Glorfindel answered.

"Who this mystery guest is, I would be curious to know. But as usual, Glorfindel will not share this information," Elrond added.

"I see. Well discretion is an admirable quality, Glorfindel," Erestor replied.

"Yes, I suppose you are correct in that, Erestor," Glorfindel answered. "If you will both pardon me, I have work to attend to this day." The Elda rose from his seat and abruptly left the room.

Erestor frowned as Glorfindel left. Had his response been inappropriate? Surely, Glorfindel did not want to announce their liaison to the entire household at the breakfast table. As he looked down into his steaming mug of tea he sighed; things were already getting complicated.

* * * *

Legolas leaned against one elbow, sipping hot tea and enjoying the sunshine. He and the twins had discussed everything from elven history to battle tactics to diplomacy. The twins had asked him many questions about his homeland and he had done the same, inquiring about the many lands and peoples they had met in their travels. His gaze was focused upon the waterfall, but in the periphery, he saw the way Elladan looked at him. He was not unfamiliar with that look; it was one many had given him since he had come of age. The Peredhel was attracted to him, and he suspected Elrohir might be as well. He had been somewhat adventurous since coming of age, but lying with two males at once was something he had not previously attempted. While this little game of cats and mouse was interesting, he thought he would prefer to skip the pretense and just enjoy himself with the two handsome elves.

He sat his mug down upon the ground and lay upon his back, stretching his long limbs like a cat. He closed his eyes and sighed as a smile curved his lips.

"Elladan?" he said softly.

"Yes, my prince?"

"Would you kiss me?"

He bit the inside of his smiling lip as he heard the Peredhel cough in surprise. Neither of the twins had expected him to be so forward. A shadow fell across his face and he opened his eyes. Was this Elladan? Was it Elrohir? He could not be sure, as they looked just alike and wore similar garments. He now wished he had spent more time studying their clothing to tell them apart. Of course, did it really matter who was who? Apart from calling out the wrong name in the heat of passion, he supposed it did not.

As the ripe lips descended upon him, he closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly. A soft and barely audible moan escaped his soon to be lover, causing an answering moan to slip from his own lips. Such a delicious kiss; he was right about their lips, they were softer than anything he had previously tasted. A remnant of honey from the tea they drank sweetened the kiss even more. As Elladan began to draw away, he reached up and pulled him back down, kissing him with fervor.

A surprised gasp escaped Elladan as Legolas wrapped his arms around him an assaulted his mouth. He resisted for only a moment, and that was only because he was caught off guard. Soon he was lying atop Legolas, his mouth being plundered with reckless abandon by the prince. As they broke for air, Legolas reached out toward where Elrohir had been sitting. "Come, join us, Elrohir..." he said softly.

Elladan shifted to the side and began unbuttoning Legolas' tunic. The prince smiled as the Peredhel's hand slid inside to caress his chest.

"You are warm," Elladan murmured against his ear.

"You have made me so," Legolas answered.

Soon, the twins flanked him. Two pairs of lips and hands were roaming his body, coaxing soft moans and gasps from him. "Oh, this is wonderful..." he whispered. "It is everything I imagined it would be."

"It will be more than you imagined," Elrohir whispered huskily.

He was being encouraged to sit up and he complied, his tunic slipping from his arms and his undershirt following it. He moaned aloud as those hands and lips now caressed his bare skin and he gave himself over to them to guide him through this new experience.

"I want to make love in the sunshine," he said softly. "It is a luxury I do not have at home..."

"Our father has tasked us with seeing that you feel welcome and entertained," Elladan murmured against the curve of his ear.

"It is a duty we take most seriously," Elrohir added, his lips moving against the impossibly soft flesh of Legolas' neck.

"Lucky am I to be so well cared for by such dutiful sons," Legolas replied breathlessly, a smile curving his mouth.

The twins divested themselves of their own garments, all the clothing being tossed haphazardly to the side in the tall grass. Boots and leggings followed, as did undergarments, until finally all three of them were as naked and beautiful as the day they were born.

Legolas was rolled to his side to face Elrohir. The Peredhel held his face in his hands and drank from his mouth as Elladan pulled his hair to one side and began caressing his neck and ear with his lips. Legolas moaned into the kiss as Elladan's awakening arousal began to glide silkily between his buttocks, and he arched against him, seeking more contact. His right hand drifted down Elrohir's stomach, tracing the ridges of taut muscles covered by soft skin. The soft dusting of hair that grew on the Peredhel's chest and abdomen was a source of fascination for Legolas. He had never made love with another that had hair upon their body. His fingers closed around Elrohir's rigid length and he gently caressed it, coaxing fluid from the tip. His left hand found Elladan's hip and he dug his fingers into it, pulling him closer.

"I wish to take you, my prince," Elladan purred.

"I wish the same," Legolas answered breathlessly. "I wish both of you to do so... As I wish to have both of you."

He watched Elladan's and Elrohir's eyes lock, and he was taken by the sudden urge to see them together. He wondered what it would look like to see two identically beautiful creatures lost in passion to one another.

"Kiss one another," he said softly.

Elrohir looked at him in surprise. Could he know? How could he know? No one knew.

"Have you never kissed each other?" Legolas asked softly. "Surely with the bond you share you have had some desire for one another. How could you not?"

Elladan reached for his twin, cupping the back of Elrohir's head and drawing his lips to his own. Legolas continued his attentions, gently stroking Elrohir's length and undulating his backside against Elladan's groin. Gods it was delicious, watching them kiss. He thought to himself that he had never seen a more beautiful sight. They separated then returned their attentions to him.

"Was that to your liking?" Elladan purred into his ear.

"It was beautiful..." Legolas whispered breathlessly.

To have so unexpectedly found a spirit who understood their love and encouraged it was more than Elrohir had dared hope possible. For hundreds of years, he and Elladan had hidden their love from their family and kindred. He had resigned himself that it was a secret they would share alone; he never dreamed they would encounter another that would understand and encourage their love.

Arms and legs entwined, the three elves joined in the bright sunshine. Legolas gasped as he was gently penetrated by Elladan's silken, slick length. He was held and touched and kissed; mouths and hands roaming, his moans and sighs joined by those of the twins. A plaintive, soft cry escaped him as Elrohir's mouth swallowed his length, and he was pinned between them, rocking back against Elladan before thrusting forward into the willing heat of Elrohir's mouth.

Words both beautiful and wicked whispered into his ear drove him closer to the edge, to that moment when the world became light and heat and swallowed him whole. He could not stop smiling, despite the sensations that roared through his young body. Elladan worked his ear between his lips with practiced skill. The Peredhel held him tight against his chest, the tempo quickening, the strokes deepening. Legolas fisted Elrohir's hair, fighting not to use his mouth too roughly. He felt it with each stroke of Elrohir's tongue and lips, with each brush of Elladan's turgid length inside him, touching that place that turned his blood into liquid fire. His release was building, consuming him and remaking him at once. He arched against Elladan, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he came, spilling himself down Elrohir's throat.

Elladan groaned deeply into Legolas' ear, the prince's lithe body tightening around him, squeezing and milking his essence from his body. He crushed Legolas against his chest as his length twitched deep inside him. Listening to Elrohir's soft moans as his twin licked the prince clean caused a smile to curve his lips. Nothing was quite so musical as his twin's voice, though the prince's came close.

Slowly, Elladan's length slipped from Legolas' body, and Legolas felt his grip loosen. Elrohir made his way up his chest with his delicious mouth, and he kissed the Peredhel deeply as their lips met. Legolas could feel the pent up desire in Elrohir's body and he considered relieving it himself, but then he thought it would be more pleasurable for both of them if Elladan were the one to do it.

"Elladan," Legolas whispered, as Elrohir's hands roamed his body and his lips caressed his neck and shoulders.

"Yes, Legolas?" Elladan answered.

"I would like to see you pleasure your brother. I would like to see the bond between you, if I may."

Elladan looked over Legolas' shoulder and into Elrohir's eyes. He could drown in those eyes, indeed he had many times over the long years of their lives. He carefully slid over Legolas, moving over the top of his twin and kissing him deeply. Elrohir's moan resonated in his heart, as it always did; it was the music of their love, of his life. He reluctantly left his twin's mouth, tracing the familiar path down Elrohir's chest and stomach until he reached his length. The cry that slipped from Elrohir's lips as he took him in his mouth set his heart to flight.

Legolas watched from a close distance, enrapt in the scene before him. It was not tawdry, as one would imagine, him lying there watching the twins celebrate their passion for one another. It was as beautiful a scene as he had ever witnessed; it was a living, breathing personification of the mystery of love. He tucked his hand under his head, a smile curving his lips and an ache blooming in his heart. His thoughts wandered to one he loved and he closed his eyes as Elrohir's cry rent his heart in twain.

As Anor rose to its apex, the three elves lay in a heap, arms and legs entwined, hands caressing, soft laughter rising into the meadow. It was a perfect day in Imladris, at least for some...

To be continued...

Summary: With the rising of the sun, daylight illuminates a rocky road.

The early afternoon sun illuminated Glorfindel's office as it filtered through the sheer draperies that covered the tall windows, spilling into a pool of soft light on the floor. A fire flickered in the hearth, warming the cozy room. A hand tied rug, died with an intricate pattern depicting days gone by lay upon the stone floor, and two large chairs, artfully carved out of beech with stuffed, velvet cushions on the seats and backs sat on each side of the hearth, a small table beside each of them. Over the mantle hung a shield and sword, replicas of his weaponry from Gondolin that had been recreated by the Eregion smiths as a gift for the valor Glorfindel showed in trying to defend their home. A large, hand carved desk made of mahogany stood near the door, a large chair in matching wood behind it. The walls where adorned with lanterns and shelves, rows of leather bound books and rolled up maps placed haphazardly upon them.

The office was small, homey and brightly lit, a contrast to Erestor's cavernous space that he worked in, situated next to Lord Elrond's in the main house. Glorfindel's office was tucked away amongst the birch trees, a winding path leading from its door up the hill to the main house. It was adjacent to the barracks and the stables, not too far from the main courtyard. The smell of sweet winter hay and horses drifted in through the open door, causing a smile to shape the lips of most visitors. The space reflected the old warrior's demeanor, simple, welcoming and peaceful.

Glorfindel stood over his desk, his hands planted on each side of a long scroll. His eyes scanned the roster as he mentally calculated troops and needed supplies and weaponry. He was getting ready to place an order with the smiths, those elves that came to Imladris after the fall of their home in Eregion. Imladris had at its disposal Middle-earth's most renowned craftsmen, elves whose skill in forging metals and jewels was unparalleled.

Glorfindel did not notice Erestor standing in his doorway as he concentrated on the task at hand. The sound of his friend clearing his throat caused him to avert his eyes from the document and turn them in Erestor's direction.

"Erestor," he said coolly, "Is it midday so soon?"

"Yes," Erestor answered, "I was hoping you would like to share the midday meal with me." He produced a basket laden with breads, cheeses, fruits and a bottle of wine from behind his back. "Anor has chased the clouds to the west and her light warms the air and the ground."

"I am in the middle of calculating an order for weaponry, now is not a good time," Glorfindel answered.

"I see," Erestor replied. He began to turn and leave when he thought the better of it. "Well, we shall have our meal indoors then." He stepped into Glorfindel's office, closing the door behind him. He spread a soft blanket upon the rug, then began unpacking the picnic he had prepared. "Such taxing work requires sustenance to replenish your strength..."

A smile curved Glorfindel's lips against his bidding and he shook his head. He was still smarting a bit from Erestor's near desperation to keep the changed nature of their relationship a secret. He was not sure why this bothered him, he had never been one to boast or brag about his sexual liaisons. But he had felt wounded, as if Erestor were embarrassed or ashamed of what they had done – at least embarrassed enough that he did not want anyone else to know of it.

He sighed and picked up his quill, scribbling a note in the margin of the scroll, then rounded the desk and accepted the glass of fine red wine that Erestor offered. In all the long years of their lives together, this had been a daily ritual when Glorfindel was at home. He and Erestor always shared meals together. It had begun in Gondolin when they served the king together, and resumed upon his return to Middle-earth in Lindon. The ritual in Imladris was that the nobles in Elrond's household shared the morning and evening meals together – a tradition that had been started by the Lady Celebrían and continued in her absence by Lord Elrond. Needless to say, this meant that Erestor and Glorfindel spent many, many hours together, and sometimes this could be both a good and a bad thing.

Glorfindel settled himself upon the blanket, sitting cross legged adjacent to Erestor. The warmth of the fire felt good and the wine warmed his blood as he swallowed it. Erestor was stretched out next to him, his ankles crossed as he leaned upon one hand. He had removed his heavy, outer robe and hung it upon the coat tree near Glorfindel's door; this left him dressed in black velvet leggings, his boots, and a white silk shirt, tied at the neck. Glorfindel sipped his wine as he looked at his friend. He had always thought Erestor to be a handsome elf, dark hair against pale skin, eyes that were like the winter sky and could both freeze one's blood as well as turn it to liquid heat – something he had discovered very recently.

He wanted to say something, but he couldn't decide what it was or how to go about it. He always felt rather inferior to Erestor when it came to banter. Sure, when they were in public, he could sling jabs with the best of elves, but when they were alone, when it came to discussing feelings, he would always fall mute. He reached out and fingered one of Erestor's braids. It was like fine ebony rope, impeccably placed with a tastefully jeweled clip. He wanted to remove those braids, unlace his shirt, strip him of his cloak of control and leave him wanton and undone. That was how Erestor was most beautiful to him, undone; though he had not known it until that fateful night of the autumn solstice. Erestor turned his head, casting a coy, sideways glance in Glorfindel's direction.

"Why do you look at me that way?" he asked softly.

"Because I find I can look at you no other way," Erestor answered.

"You frighten me and you make me angry," Glorfindel replied.

"I know. You do the same to me."

"I want to say something, but I cannot find the words to say it. I lose my ability to speak when you are near."

"There are other ways to communicate, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel placed his glass of wine upon one of the small tables and glanced back at the door.

"It is locked, I made sure of that," Erestor said softly.

Glorfindel took Erestor's glass from him and set it beside his own. Then with a fervor that surprised not only Erestor, but also himself, he pushed the counselor to the floor and covered Erestor's body with his own.

Erestor gasped as Glorfindel pinned his body to the floor, holding him down with his weight and pinning his wrists beneath his hands. He flushed beneath Glorfindel's heated gaze, watching the warrior's eyes change from bright azure to deep midnight. He was trembling, writhing beneath Glorfindel, wanting both to escape and to be possessed. He could not understand the feelings that raged inside him, but one thing he knew; it was more than just lust.

"I want to touch you," Erestor whispered.

"Indeed," Glorfindel answered with a deep murmur. His lips ghosted over Erestor's face and neck, the heady scent of orange and almonds making him dizzy with desire.

"Let me touch you, please."

"I do not know what to do with you, Erestor. Part of me wants to bend you over my desk and take you hard, to ride out this maddening obsession and be done with it once and for all. The other part of me wants to hold you and caress you, to cherish you like the rare gift you are."

"Perhaps you could do both?" Erestor answered with a teasing smile.

Glorfindel stilled in his movements and Erestor instantly knew his words were a mistake. His friend was conflicted, confused, and he made a joke of it.

"I am sor...."

Glorfindel shook his head and sat up, releasing Erestor and moving to sit in a chair beside the hearth.

"Glorfindel..."

Glorfindel put up his hand, silencing Erestor. He couldn't look at him, he didn't want Erestor to see him this way, so hurt and weak, so confused and afraid.

"I think it would be best if you returned to your office now," he said, his eyes fixed upon his lap.

"Glorfindel, please. We cannot part this way, we have never parted in anger, not even for an afternoon."

"There is a first time for everything, Erestor."

"Glorfindel... please..."

"Go, Erestor. Go now."

"We need..."

"I said go!" Glorfindel barked.

Erestor rose from the floor, quickly gathering his cloak and hastily leaving Glorfindel's office.

Glorfindel sighed heavily and placed his face in his hands, leaning upon his knees.

* * * *

Erestor dashed up the path as he wrapped his robe around him. As he rounded the corner leading to the courtyard, he stepped off the path, wandering deep into the trees until he felt he could not be seen. He leaned against the trunk of a tall birch, looking up through the branches at the sun that flickered high above. He felt horrible, sick. He absently rubbed his chest, wadding the heavy velvet of his cloak in his fist. "Idiot!" he chastised himself. "Must you make everything into a joke?" In all his years, he had never hurt someone he cared for like that. He had always prided himself upon being able to find the exact right words at the exact right time. Now, when it mattered most, when Glorfindel was feeling vulnerable, he made a joke of his friend's feelings.

"What am I to do?" he whispered to the trees. "I cannot let things end like this. I cannot lose his friendship, I cannot lose this chance to..." he swallowed as the words died upon his lips. He could not even bring himself to say it.

As so often happened when he was feeling lonely, his mind wandered to that last day in Gondolin. He saw the fleeing citizens in his mind; he remembered the feeling of Idril's arm in his grip and Eärendil's weight upon his back. He remembered the small child's arms around his neck, clinging tightly to his 'Uncle Erestor' as he and Tuor practically carried Idril between them, running down the rocky path to escape the oncoming hoard. The sound of a Balrog's roar echoed in his ears, and he remembered turning to see his best friend confront the massive beast. Glorfindel had looked so alone on that rocky cliff, so small when faced by the towering mass of smoke and flame that was one of Morgoth's most feared creations. Yet, his beautiful friend had not hesitated to put himself between the fleeing elves and the beast. He had fought with valor and honor. Erestor wondered if Glorfindel heard his cry when he fell from the cliffs with the Balrog. He wondered if Glorfindel had heard the heartbreak in his voice as so many others had.

Heartbreak. It was something they had all had enough of: Elrond, Arwen and the twins, Glorfindel, himself. They had all suffered enough. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together, then he turned and marched back down the path toward Glorfindel's office.

* * * *

Legolas smiled lazily as he wandered the path from the gates toward the stables. He was on his way to check on his mare, then to speak to Lord Glorfindel about observing training exercises. His hair was just dry from the quick dip he and the twins took in the pond after their morning of lovemaking in the sun, and a smile played upon his lips as he remembered it. It had been a privilege, witnessing the love they had for one another and having them bestow such trust and pleasure upon him.

He stopped upon the path, looking around and suddenly realizing he took a wrong turn on his way to the stable. He chuckled to himself. "Pay attention to where you are going Legolas, all this distraction could prove problematic."

He rounded the corner and saw the barracks and Glorfindel's office. The doors stood open and smoke rose from the chimney. Since he was already there, he decided to speak with Glorfindel first and check on his mare later. Upon approaching the doorway, he saw the Elda sitting in a chair beside the fire, his gaze turned up at the ceiling. A blanket was spread upon the floor and a basket containing various food items sat at Glorfindel's feet. Two glasses of wine sat upon the table next to him. He knocked softly and smiled as Glorfindel looked at him.

"Is this a bad time, my lord?" he asked quietly.

Glorfindel rose to his feet. "No, no. Come in."

"It looks as if you were in the middle of something..."

"My guest had to leave. Would you care to join me? There is no sense in this food going to waste."

"Well, if you are sure..."

"Absolutely. Please, come in."

Glorfindel cleared the roster from his desk and began moving the picnic from the floor to the desktop. Legolas hung his cloak upon the rack and helped his host transfer the goods. Glorfindel pulled a chair up for him to sit in and handed him a glass of wine, which Legolas accepted with a smile.

"Now, what can I do for you, my prince?" he asked congenially, as he took a seat behind the desk.

Legolas swallowed his wine and selected a piece of cheese from the banquet. "I was hoping I could observe the training maneuvers of your troops. My father tasked me with gathering helpful information as well as serving in a diplomatic capacity while I am here."

"I understand you captain a regiment at home," Glorfindel answered. "That is a great responsibility for one so young."

"I may be young, but I am not inexperienced," Legolas answered with a smile. "I take great pride in my talents."

Glorfindel raised his glass to his lips to hide the smile that threatened to curve them. "Indeed?"

Erestor, having arrived at Glorfindel's door, witnessed this exchange, not knowing fully what the conversation was about. He turned and left before either Legolas or Glorfindel could see him.

"Yes," Legolas continued. "I have been practicing with a bow since I was old enough to run. My father had one made especially for me when I was small."

"I have heard tell of your talents as an archer, my prince," Glorfindel answered. "Perhaps you would care to demonstrate them while you are here? My soldiers would be honored to witness such a display."

"It would be my pleasure," Legolas answered with a nod. He raised his glass in salute to the great elf lord, and Glorfindel returned the gesture.

To be continued...

Summary: Misunderstandings, retaliation, and regret.

Anor cast a deep golden glow as Glorfindel made his way up the long path toward the house. He was in a solemn mood; he was certainly in no mood to attend a party. However, it was his duty as one of the nobles of Elrond's house to attend these things, and since a member of the Royal Family of Mirkwood was visiting, that was what he would do. Had circumstances been different, he could imagine himself enjoying Legolas' company more. The young elf was most beautiful and very charming, much like his father. He had enjoyed chatting with the prince that afternoon, even in light of what had happened between him and Erestor.

Erestor. What a maddening elf! What was happening between them? Why did his old friend suddenly put him so off balance? His intention had been to occasionally enjoy Erestor's company in a new and interesting way since the night of the wager. They were both old and seasoned warriors, both had had their share of lovers and liaisons... Why was it that things were suddenly so off track? Perhaps it was not an advisable thing to mix friendship with pleasure; perhaps it would be better if they both just forgot what had happened. He had never taken a close friend as a lover before, certainly not one that lived under the same roof. Usually his lovers were elves and the occasional man, individuals seeking the same thing he was, pleasure and comfort, no more. His lovers had come from the ranks of soldiers in Lindon, from the Grey Company, from the smiths of Eregion, from the marchwardens of Lórien. Even his friend Gildor, the closest friend he had lain with before Erestor, had not provided such a complication as this.

He paused at the door to the Last Homely House, listening to Lindir leading the musicians as they practiced in preparation for the night's festivities. He found he felt sick, there was a dull ache in his chest and he felt disconnected and numb. A hand upon his shoulder caused him to turn and look into Arwen's eyes.

"Glorfindel? Are you all right? You do not look well," Arwen said softly.

"I am weary, that is all," he answered quietly.

"You look as though you have lost your best friend."

"I may have."

"Never. After all you have been through, you and Erestor could never be parted."

Arwen rose to the balls of her feet and placed her arms around Glorfindel's neck. She whispered into his ear, "I find that when I am taken by melancholy, a nice long embrace does me wonders..."

Glorfindel smiled as he placed his arms around her waist and hid his face in her dark locks. "That is sage advice, my lady, and I thank you for it."

* * * *

"They have had a disagreement," Elladan whispered to his twin as they watched the exchange between Arwen and Glorfindel.

"Yes, it looks that way," Elrohir answered.

"He looks terrible."

"He does try to hide it. He nearly hid it from me this afternoon, but I could see that something was amiss," Legolas added. "What do you think has happened?"

"Glorfindel and Erestor have been friends over two ages. They have fought beside and fought with each other for longer than many have been alive. We suspect that the nature of their relationship may be changing, but we cannot be sure," Elladan answered.

"I would not interfere in that," Legolas whispered.

"Had such an action crossed your mind?" Elrohir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, he is most beautiful..." Legolas answered in a hushed murmur. "I had considered it before the two of you pursued me."

"We pursued you, did we?" Elladan asked teasingly.

Legolas laughed softly. "Come now, just because you are older than I does not mean that you are necessarily wiser. I saw the way you looked at me; I heard the hushed murmurs when you thought I was not listening. I knew what the two of you wanted and I was most happy to comply."

Elrohir elbowed Legolas in the ribs, causing him to chuckle. "Well, for all our stealth we were found out, brother. What do you think of that?"

"Perhaps we are becoming slow in our elder days," Elladan teased.

"Oh, I would not go so far as to say that," Legolas teased in return.

"Glorfindel and our fair prince here, just think of that, Elladan," Elrohir purred.

"What an enticing and beauteous picture that would make, brother," Elladan answered.

"Are the two of you encouraging me to flirt with Lord Glorfindel?" Legolas smiled as he responded quietly.

"Hmm... it is tempting," Elladan teased.

"I would not interfere in a relationship he may have with anyone else. I may be wicked and flirtatious, but I do not go so far as to hurt others," Legolas answered.

"Well, there is only one way for us to discover what is happening..." Elrohir answered.

Legolas looked at Elrohir. "You want me to play the mole, to garner information about Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor?" Elladan smiled broadly as Elrohir nodded. Legolas furrowed his brow, then smiled. "It could prove to be a most entertaining way to spend an evening... so long as I do not risk causing harm, of course."

"Of course..." the twins added in unison.

"And who will talk to Lord Erestor? Who will garner his side of things?" Legolas asked.

"Leave that to us, my fair prince," Elladan answered.

"Yes, if we discern that there is more to Glorfindel and Erestor's relationship than meets the eye, we will stop you before you go too far," Elrohir answered.

"Besides," Elladan continued. "They are both honorable elves, neither would betray the other if their bond goes beyond that of friends."

"I find myself unable to resist such a temptation," Legolas answered. "I am game."

"Excellent!" Elrohir exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

"It is so wonderful to have a friend such as you, fair Legolas," Elladan murmured against his neck.

"You had better stop that, Elladan... unless you wish to cause all three of us to be late for the banquet," Legolas answered breathlessly.

"Indeed..."

* * * *

Erestor sat in a wide chair next to the fireplace in his quarters. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, fingers curled around the edges. A grim expression clouded his features as he gazed into the flickering light of the fire. 'How could Glorfindel toss him aside so quickly?' he wondered. There had to be more to what he saw than he suspected; his friend was neither flighty nor cruel.

What he wanted more than anything was to hold Glorfindel in his arms, to press his lips to his lover's, to make love to him in ways that neither had experienced before. But instead, he sat brooding by the fire, dreading the night's festivities. He had been half tempted to go to Lindir after finding Glorfindel with Legolas. Lindir and he had shared a bed many times over the years; they had that sort of understanding. However, it would have been disingenuous, he knew this, so he had refrained.

"By the Gods, how I want you," he whispered to the empty room. "I ache for you..." He looked down at the floor before sighing. He then rose to his feet and crossed to the dressing table, solemnly going about the task of readying himself for the evening.

* * * *

A soft knock upon his door caused Elrohir to look away from the full-length mirror and call for his visitor to enter. He smiled as Elladan entered the room, closing the door behind him. His twin was dressed in formal attire, a long, dark blue velvet robe over a silver tunic and dark leggings. A mithril circlet adorned with stars, identical to his own, crowned Elladan's dark head.

"Are you ready, my brother?" Elladan asked softly.

"Nearly," Elrohir answered. "But come here first."

Elladan crossed the room to his twin and stepped into his arms, smiling as Elrohir embraced him.

"You look beautiful," Elrohir answered.

"As do you," Elladan smiled. He moaned softly as Elrohir's lips caressed his neck and his hands roamed down his back and over his buttocks. "I wish we could spend the evening in bed," he whispered.

"As do I," Elrohir answered. "This is the only thing I dislike about coming home, the necessity for secrecy."

"Aye, I feel the same as you," Elladan answered. "I can still taste you upon my lips, though I know it is but a memory of this morning."

Elrohir took his twin's face in his hands. "Your mouth makes me weak, my brother," he whispered against Elladan's lips.

"You make me weak," Elladan answered, a quiet gasp escaping him as Elrohir claimed his mouth.

He leaned into Elrohir, allowing his younger twin to consume his mouth with abandon. It was risky; they both knew it. Though the door was closed, they knew suspicion would be raised if neither could be found and Elrohir's door was locked. Yet, he wanted Elrohir to make love to him, he wanted to feel his twin's body bow and slide against his own. It had been eight long months since their return. Eight long months of stolen moments, fleeting touches, fevered couplings in the woods near their home. He longed to make love to Elrohir properly, languorously, decadently in a soft, warm bed.

The bell calling for the start of the banquet rang out through the halls and the twins parted reluctantly, lingering touches of fingertips upon faces before they left Elrohir's chamber for the celebration.

* * * *

Legolas made one last check of himself in the mirror before he answered the door; Arwen was graciously escorting him to the celebration that evening. The Evenstar was passing fair, a lovely maid to spend an evening with. Nevertheless, Legolas sensed her heart was elsewhere, as was his own, and she merely performed this act to appease her father. No doubt, his own father would be most pleased with a union between the two of them. He suspected that the young man he had seen arrive earlier in the day was the cause of the Arwen's distraction, and he had to admit, the Dúnadan was quite handsome, for a human. Besides, he was tasked with investigating Glorfindel that night, and that would provide more than enough distraction.

He smiled and bowed his head to Arwen, who bowed low in return, then he took her hand in the crook of his arm and they walked together toward the Hall of Fire.

* * * *

Glorfindel convinced himself to swallow his pride and talk with Erestor about the disagreement they had had that afternoon, so he was on his way to the advisor's quarters. He paused upon hearing Erestor's footsteps coming toward him from around the corner of the long corridor. He heard another's footsteps as well and then heard Lindir's voice. "Lindir, of course," he murmured to himself, then turned upon his heel and headed back the way he came. He knew, as did most of Imladris, about Erestor's longstanding arrangement with Elrond's chief minstrel; they had made no secret of it. He stood in an alcove, listening to the two elves talking as they passed. The urge to reach out and grasp Erestor, to claim him as his own was nearly overwhelming; but then he reminded himself that Erestor was not a piece of property to be claimed or possessed. No, the wily counselor was as prideful as he himself was, and would never stand for such a ridiculous gesture.

He waited for several moments after they passed, not wanting to follow too closely. He then stepped out into the hallway and followed Erestor and Lindir to the Hall of Fire.

* * * *

Arwen and Legolas were the first of those sitting at the head table to arrive. The young man Legolas had seen earlier, Estel, arrived shortly after, freshly bathed and dressed in appropriate attire. The young man smiled somewhat shyly at Arwen, who smiled warmly in return, which confirmed Legolas' suspicions. He took his seat next to Lord Elrond, with Arwen sitting across from him. Elladan and Elrohir arrived shortly after Estel and sat next to Legolas. The guests began filing in, and the remainder of those who would sit at Lord Elrond's table arrived. The minstrel, Lindir, arrived with Erestor, then Glorfindel arrived alone. There was an air of tension that settled over the table as the last guests arrived and took their places, and Legolas cast a quick glance at the twins.

Dinner progressed without incident, if not somewhat uncomfortably for all who sat at the table. When Lindir excused himself to begin warming up for the evening's performance, the twins almost sighed in relief. Legolas was not sure what was going on, but he knew that Lindir played a role in the uncomfortable atmosphere at the table – however, he was unaware of his own part in that tension. The opening strings echoed in the air as the guests made their way from the grand dining room into the main hall.

The game was now afoot...

To be continued...

Summary: Misunderstandings, retaliation, and regret. A night of mistakes, mishaps, and dangerous pleasure in Imladris.

Glorfindel settled himself into a wide chair next to the fire, forcing his eyes to focus on anything but Erestor or Lindir. He did not think he could bear one more smile or light touch of Lindir's hand upon Erestor's arm gracefully. Elrond's fair minstrel sat upon a stool, fingering his lyre with perfection, his lilting voice filling the halls as elves swirled around them. Glorfindel that imagined Lindir was singing to Erestor, and that forced a grumble of discontent to escape him. As his gaze drifted to the dais, he caught sight of Arwen bowing her head to Legolas as she took Estel's hand, allowing the Dúnadan to escort her to the dance floor.

"Ever the independent young lady," he murmured to himself, knowing of Elrond's reservations regarding her affection for Isildur's heir. It was then that Legolas' sapphire gaze locked with his own, and he watched the prince's lips curve into a smile as he rose from his seat and crossed the floor toward him.

Legolas moved with extraordinary grace, and Glorfindel hypothesized that he must prefer knives to the sword, judging by his movements and his build. Swordsmen were built heavier, their upper bodies larger from the rigors of training with so heavy a weapon, much like his own body was. Legolas was built like an archer, lean and graceful, with long limbs and feline grace. His movements were slow and deliberate, yet ethereal at the same time; the prince had indeed inherited his father's lethal charm.

"Good evening, Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said smoothly as he took a chair across from the Elda.

"Good evening, Prince Legolas," Glorfindel answered.

"Just Legolas, please. I do not like formalities."

"Nor do I, so I must insist you call me by my given name as well."

"Agreed."

Legolas reached up and took a goblet of wine from the tray held by a young elf serving the guests in the hall that night. He smiled and nodded politely at the young elf, who blushed slightly in return and bowed his head as he backed away.

"Many are taken with you," Glorfindel remarked casually as he sipped his wine.

"All but the one Master Elrond would like... or the one I would like for that matter," he answered softly.

"The Lady Arwen has long had eyes for Estel, ever since he grew into manhood. Do not tell me you are interested in her?" Glorfindel replied.

"No, no..." Legolas answered with a smile. "Do not take me wrong, Lady Arwen is most beautiful and gracious, but my tastes lie elsewhere."

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "I suspected that about you..."

"Did you? I suppose it is not surprising given my father's proclivities."

"Well, there is that as well."

"Tell me, Glorfindel, have you had the pleasure of my father's company?"

Glorfindel nearly spit his wine upon the rug in surprise. He had not expected so direct a question from the young prince. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I have met your father once, though I cannot say I have had the pleasure of his company. We were together but a day, not long enough to get to know one another; then I left on an urgent errand to the north. He is an interesting elf, to be sure."

Legolas chuckled. "Yes, he is that. One can always count on him to be forthright and honest, if not more than a bit single-minded. He has spoken of you in passing to me, about how impressed he was upon meeting the great Glorfindel. It takes much to impress my father."

"I am honored then," Glorfindel answered and bowed his head, lifting his glass in a toast.

Legolas lifted his in return and smiled sultrily. "Tell me, Glorfindel. Do you have a lover?"

Glorfindel's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to answer, then shut it abruptly. Did he? Did he have a lover? He glanced quickly at Erestor, who was speaking to the twins. His old friend appeared nervous, fidgeting with his robe; he could only imagine what the twins were teasing him about.

Legolas followed Glorfindel's gaze to Erestor, then turned and looked back at the Elda. When Glorfindel's gaze returned to him, he smiled as if he had never looked away.

"Not at the moment," he answered.

"Excellent," Legolas answered.

Glorfindel noticed his wineglass was empty. "If you will excuse me, I am feeling a bit parched. Can I get you anything?"

"No," Legolas answered smoothly. "I will wait here for you."

"Very well."

Glorfindel rose from his chair and made his way toward the buffet.

* * * *

Erestor sat on a divan at the edge of the dance floor. If he leaned over just far enough, he could see Glorfindel and Legolas talking. He was just working up the nerve to approach the Elda when the twins sat down, one on each side of him.

"Good evening, Erestor," they greeted him in unison.

"Good evening, Elladan, Elrohir," he answered with a sigh.

"We could not help but notice that there was some tension between you and Glorfindel this evening. Tell us, is something amiss?" Elrohir asked softly.

"No... nothing is amiss..." Erestor answered hesitantly. "What makes you say such a thing?"

"The two of you are normally so congenial, tonight you barely spoke to one another," Elladan answered. "It is fairly obvious that you two have had some sort of argument."

"Glorfindel and I are always arguing, you know this, Elladan."

"Yes, but not like this," Elrohir retorted.

"It will pass, as all things do."

"Hmm... I guess we were under the wrong impression then," Elladan said quietly.

"What impression is that?" Erestor queried.

"That the nature of your relationship with Glorfindel had taken an unexpected turn," Elrohir answered.

"Such as?" Erestor swallowed.

"We were hoping you would tell us," Elladan answered.

"There is nothing to tell."

"Then we offer our apologies, Master Erestor," Elrohir said quietly.

"Yes, we do," Elladan added.

They rose from the divan and moved out of Erestor's sight. Erestor saw Glorfindel heading for the buffet and he took the opportunity to approach him before he could lose his nerve.

"Glorfindel."

"Erestor. Are you enjoying this evening's festivities?"

"We must talk."

"No, we mustn't."

"Glorfindel, please. I do not like this... this... tension between us."

"There is no tension that I am aware of, Erestor. You seem to be having a lovely time, you were chatting quite amiably with Lindir at dinner."

"Glorfindel, Lindir and I are friends, you know this."

"Of course I do. I know the nature of your relationship with him, as most of Imladris does. I am happy for you, Erestor. I am sure that Lindir is nowhere near as complicated as I am, you two are far better suited for one another."

"For Elbereth's sake, Glorfindel, it is not what you think..."

"What does it matter what I think, Erestor? You and I do not hold one another accountable. Now if you will excuse me..."

"Oh, yes, run back to the prince. I noticed I had hardly been gone a moment before you replaced me with him. I saw you two, sharing the food I brought, drinking the wine I brought. Tell me, did you pin him to the floor as well?"

Glorfindel recoiled as if Erestor had slapped him. As the regret began to cloud his friend's face, he furrowed his brow. "You have asked me to be honest with you, as I have always been. There is nothing between Legolas and me. He had an appointment to see me, which he was early for. I have to say it was quite awkward having him come upon me in such a state, sitting there with the food and wine you brought, alone. However, since it is clear that you and I have come to an impasse, I think it is best that we each look elsewhere for such diversions. Now that you mention it, the prince is passing fair, perhaps I will take advantage of his interest in me."

Glorfindel turned on his heel and left Erestor standing alone next to the buffet.

The twins observed the exchange from their place in the shadows. Elladan looked at his twin with concern. "We have to stop him, Elrohir. This is worse than we thought. We cannot let Legolas walk into this mess blind."

Elrohir nodded. "Aye. Come, we must distract him, get him away from Glorfindel." Elladan followed Elrohir across the room, but they were too late.

Glorfindel walked over to Legolas and reached down, grasping his hand. "Come, my prince, it is a lovely night for a stroll in the garden."

Legolas' eyes widened in surprise as Glorfindel pulled him from his chair and they left the Hall of Fire together.

To be continued...

Summary: Misunderstandings, retaliation, and regret. A night of mistakes, mishaps, and dangerous pleasure in Imladris.

Erestor watched from the balcony as Glorfindel slipped his arm around Legolas' waist while the Elda escorted the prince through the gardens. He cursed himself for his pride and his sharp tongue. He had made assumptions without understanding; he had let his own fears and insecurities drive a wedge between him and Glorfindel, and now their love affair was over and his lover would spend the night in the prince's bed.

"How did this happen?" he whispered to himself. "How did things become so complicated so fast?"

"Love is an unruly beast, is it not?"

Erestor turned quickly to see Elrond standing behind him. He began to stammer a nonsensical answer when Elrond raised his hand and silenced him. "There is no sense in denying it, Erestor. You have fallen for Glorfindel, finally."

"Finally?" Erestor replied trying to feign ignorance, but he realized his feelings could no longer be hidden. "How did you know?"

Elrond smiled. "I have known since this morning. It was not so long ago that I saw that same expression on my own face when I looked in the mirror. Not to mention that Glorfindel was acting particularly happy this morning, and we both know how cross he is before he has had his tea."

Erestor nodded. "I have ruined things, my lord. I made light of confusion he felt about this. I accused him wrongly of dallying with the prince and now I have driven a wedge between us."

Elrond placed his hand upon Erestor's shoulder. "My dear friend, Glorfindel is more stoic than you think. While I am sure your words bruised him somewhat, we both know how resilient he is. Give him time then try again, he will listen to you."

"I am a fool..." Erestor whispered.

"No, no more so than anyone in love is," Elrond answered with a smile. "Take heart, Erestor. This love has been brewing for over an age, it will not die so easily."

* * * *

Legolas smiled and sighed as Glorfindel's fingertips and lips explored his neck. As good as this felt, his conscience nagged him and he sensed Glorfindel was going through the motions; he still believed there was more to the situation between Erestor and Glorfindel than met the eye. He would not be able to enjoy the Elda's attentions if he did not know whether or not Glorfindel's heart was truly in it.

"How long have you known Lord Erestor?" Legolas asked quietly.

"For both of my lives," Glorfindel answered, as he traced the jugular vein in Legolas' neck with his finger. "We became friends as elflings in Aman, we served and fought together in Gondolin. He was the first one to greet me upon my arrival in Lindon at the beginning of the Second Age, and we have been a part of one another's lives ever since."

"That is much history to share," Legolas answered softly. "I wager that a special bond exists between the two of you."

"Witnessing so much war and death will do that, Legolas. We have both seen things that no one should."

"He saw you die, did he not?"

"Aye, though I wish he had not. His voice calling my name is the last thing I remember of that day: the fear in it, the regret, the pain. I went to Mandos' door with his voice in my mind."

"Why did you come back? Were I given a choice between peace in Aman and war here, I am sure I would choose peace."

"That is precisely the issue, my young friend. There was no peace for me there and Mandos knew it. That was why he sent me back, because he knew I would never rest."

"He sent you back for him," Legolas said quietly.

"What?"

"He sent you back for him, for Erestor."

"No, that is not what I meant. I meant..."

"Regardless of what you meant, it is what is true. Can you not see this yourself?" He gently pulled out of Glorfindel's grasp and looked at the Elda. "I am flattered by your interest in me, Glorfindel, and as lovely as this is, I would prefer not to be a substitute for another."

"I meant no offense, Legolas," Glorfindel answered softly.

"I know," Legolas answered. "But why are you here with me when he is the one you wish to be with?"

"I fear after our harsh words he would not have me." Glorfindel sighed. "Had we met before, Legolas, had you and I come together before..."

Legolas smiled and placed his fingers upon Glorfindel's lips. "No need for explanation, Glorfindel." He rose from his place on the bench next to the Elda. "Go find him. Tell him how you feel."

"Even if I do not know exactly how that is myself?"

"I think you know, you are just afraid to admit it."

"How does one so young become so wise?"

"By having a good teacher," Legolas answered. "Now go."

"Yes, my lord," Glorfindel answered, rising from the bench and bowing low before the prince.

Legolas watched as Glorfindel quickly made his way back to the Last Homely House.

"Legolas!"

Legolas turned to see Elladan and Elrohir approaching quickly.

"We have been searching for you. Where is he going? Is he returning?" Elrohir asked breathlessly.

"No, I am afraid not," Legolas answered.

"We must stop this game," Elladan said earnestly.

"I know," Legolas answered. "He is in love with Lord Erestor, though he will not admit it to himself."

Elrohir placed his hand upon Legolas' shoulder. "Thank the Valar you discovered it before things could get worse."

"Indeed," Legolas returned. "I would not want an angry Erestor after me for stealing his lover." The twins laughed as Legolas winked. "Well then, this leaves me without company for the evening. First, I lose Arwen's attention to the young Estel, then I lose Glorfindel to Erestor."

"Ah, but you have us," Elladan purred.

"Yes," Elrohir chimed in. "Unless you grow tired of us so soon?"

Legolas smiled as the twins hemmed him in. "Never, my friends. I could never grow tired of the two of you..."

"Come, my prince," Elladan whispered in his ear.

"Let us see that you receive all you deserve and desire," Elrohir continued.

The three elves stole away in the moonlight, making for a secluded place known only to the twins.

* * * *

Glorfindel returned to the Last Homely House to find Erestor missing from the Hall of Fire. He stalked the halls, first checking the library and Erestor's office but not finding him in either place. He then made his way toward Erestor's chamber, his footsteps quickening as he climbed the stairs. He was not sure what he would say, but he knew he had to do something, things could not be left as they were. He rounded the corner and hurried down the hallway that led to Erestor's door, hoping it was not too late already.

* * * *

Erestor lay upon his back in his bed, an open book across his chest and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He could not sleep nor could he concentrate to read. In a word, he was miserable. Images of Glorfindel and Legolas flashed into his mind, and he cursed himself for driving his lover into the prince's arms. How could two elves know each other so well yet have such misunderstandings? It was as if he and Glorfindel had gone from knowing one another as well as they knew themselves to not knowing one another at all. Neither one of them were in the flower of their youth; they were both seasoned lords and soldiers, Eldar that had seen more than their share of war and peace. Why were they both suddenly acting like juveniles? "Love is an unruly beast," he murmured to the empty room, recalling Elrond's words.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly, and he peeled the blankets back, placing his book upon the table and moving toward the door in his bare feet. A sharp staccato knock fell upon his door and he opened it quickly, fearing that something was amiss with Lord Elrond or one of his children. He stepped back in surprise upon seeing Glorfindel. He opened his mouth and began in a hushed whisper...

"Glorfin..."

Before he could finish the word, Glorfindel had his face in his hands and was kissing him more passionately than he had ever been kissed before. He wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's neck, yielding to his beloved warrior, moaning softly as Glorfindel lifted him from the ground. The warrior kicked the door closed with one foot as he lifted Erestor from the floor. Erestor clutched at Glorfindel as he wrapped his legs around his lover's waist and was carried to the bed.

As they broke their kiss, Glorfindel whispered, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"No, it is I who must apologize," Erestor began breathlessly. "I behaved terribly, I do not know what came over me..."

"Forgive me, Erestor. Please, forgive me..." Glorfindel buried his face in Erestor's loose raven hair. "I want you so badly, so very badly..." He placed Erestor upon the bed and continued to kiss his swollen, red lips as the counselor fumbled with the clasps upon his robe.

"I need you, Glorfindel," Erestor breathed as his lover released his mouth. "I need to feel your skin upon my own, I need to feel your hands on me, your weight on me..."

Glorfindel shrugged the robe from his shoulders and kicked off his shoes. Erestor tugged at the warrior's loincloth as Glorfindel began pulling his nightshirt over his head. Soon, he lay upon his back with Glorfindel resting between his legs and claiming his mouth. Their passion was feverish as they clutched and caressed one another, their bodies moving together, the heat building between them.

Glorfindel left his mouth and focused on his chest. Erestor moaned and arched beneath him; so desperate was he for his lover's touch that he nearly spent himself upon the first, soft caress of Glorfindel's fingers upon his rigid length. He closed his eyes as he felt his lover spread his legs wide, Glorfindel's mouth teasing his length, his lips and tongue working wicked, seductive magic upon his taut body. "Yes..." he whispered as Glorfindel focused on the soft pouch of flesh beneath his arousal. He groaned and arched against the bed as the warrior's tongue circled his entrance and he spread his legs wider, offering himself wantonly to his lover as Glorfindel tasted him.

The sudden loss of heat and weight above him caused him to whimper, and he opened his eyes to see his lover crossing to the bathing chamber. He trembled in anticipation, the memory of his lover buried inside him still fresh from the night before, and he followed Glorfindel with his dark eyes as his lover returned to the bed with a phial of oil. Glorfindel poured a bit into Erestor's hand then poured some into his own. Erestor groaned as his lover took his length in hand and began slowly stroking it.

"Prepare me, Erestor," Glorfindel whispered. Erestor reached for his length when Glorfindel caught his hand. "No, not there..."

Erestor nodded, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of having Glorfindel again, as he had that first night they laid together. As his lover consumed his mouth, he reached behind him, slowly sliding his fingers inside Glorfindel's body and spreading the oil deep. The deep groan that escaped Glorfindel caused him to answer in kind.

"I cannot bear this, Glorfindel," he whispered against the warrior's lips. "I feel like I cannot breathe..."

Glorfindel held Erestor's face in his hands. "Look at me, Erestor..."

Erestor opened his eyes. He could feel them stinging with unformed tears as he gazed into Glorfindel's azure depths.

"I am here. I will be here. I will not leave you again."

"Promise me, promise me you will not leave me."

"I promise. Love me, Erestor. Make love to me..."

Erestor reached for him with his mouth as he felt Glorfindel take hold of his length. A breathless moan escaped him as Glorfindel settled upon his lap, taking his length deep inside him.

Glorfindel closed his eyes, pausing so that he could accommodate his lover's length. His brow knitted for a brief moment as he waited for the initial discomfort of penetration to pass. He could feel Erestor's breath upon his lips as his lover panted against his mouth. Time stood still in that moment. He could hear the crackling and hissing of the fire, feel the warmth of his lover's body beneath him, the steady, insistent rhythm of Erestor's heart beating beneath his hand. His own pulse pounded in his ears as he struggled to remain in the moment, to keep from being taken away as he sometimes was.

"Move, lover, please..."

Erestor's deep voice drifted into the smoky place of waking dreams, calling him back to the world, to the moment that they shared. He dared not open his eyes, for fear of what he would see. He dared not wake from the dream he existed in, the dream that was Erestor's love. Slowly he began to move, rising and falling upon his lover's lap, his thighs flexing and coiling as he took Erestor in again and again. The tempo increased, his heart beat faster, his breath came heavier. On the edge of his consciousness, he felt the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he ran up the steep path. He heard stone and timber crashing, he heard elves dying. 'Not now, not like this,' he thought. Erestor's hand closed around his length, his lover was saying something to him, but the other voices drowned him out. Long strokes of Erestor's hand upon his length, drawing him closer, pulling him toward the inevitable fall. Heat washed over him, surrounding him engulfing him. Smoke burned his eyes and his lungs and he felt his body tighten, coiling like a serpent preparing to strike. A strangled cry escaped his lips as pain ripped through him and he arched his back as his seed spilled over Erestor's hand.

Erestor growled low as his release came and he spilled himself inside Glorfindel's tightening body. His mind numbly registered the anguish in Glorfindel's voice, snapping him back from the fog of climax. He looked up at his lover. Glorfindel's head hung back, his golden mane spilling over his shoulders and down his back. He saw the sheen of sweat causing the Elda's flushed skin to glisten; he saw the rapid rising and falling of his lover's chest. He also saw Glorfindel's hand resting upon his side, covering the scar that was an ever-present reminder of his death.

"Glorfindel?" he whispered hoarsely.

His length slipped from his lover's body and Glorfindel slowly stretched out next to him, never opening his eyes. The Elda sighed as he slipped into an exhausted reverie, his head upon Erestor's shoulder, his arms wrapped around his waist. Erestor stroked his lover's hair, murmuring a lullaby his mother used to sing to him.

To be continued...

Summary: Fun, games, confessions and realizations - the morning after.

Legolas awoke with a start. He lifted the blankets to find Elrohir nestled between his legs, his tongue and fingers playing about his slumbering length.

"Good morning..." Elrohir purred.

"Indeed it is," Legolas answered. "What are you doing down there?"

"It is cold and I am looking for a place to get warm," Elrohir answered quietly. "This is a lovely and comfortable place, I must say..."

Legolas shifted and began to spread his legs when he winced.

"A bit tender are we?" Elladan teased as he slipped beneath the blankets.

Legolas scowled at him before smiling. "Aye, just a bit."

"That makes two of us," Elrohir murmured from his place beneath the blankets.

Elladan smiled as he toyed with Legolas' ear. "I had to take my revenge after you so thoroughly used my brother, after all."

"Of course," Legolas murmured. "That is to be expected."

"It is cold, Elladan," Elrohir complained in a playfully whining fashion.

"I put more wood on the fire, brother," Elladan answered.

Elrohir emerged from beneath the blankets and inserted himself between Elladan and Legolas. "Keep me warm..."

Legolas and Elladan snuggled close and Elrohir smiled in satisfaction.

"So no one knows about this place?" Legolas asked softly.

"No, just Elrohir and myself," Elladan answered. "It is rare we can escape here without being seen, however. It is not the same as lying in a real bed, but it is as close as we can get to having a place to make love in private."

Elrohir mumbled and wrapped his arms around Elladan's waist as he snuggled back against Legolas. "There are not many elves that would venture in here, most of our kind do not like caves."

Legolas nodded. "Aye, this is true. Other than my own kind, I have not known any to abide caves. We would live above ground if we could do so safely, but Mirkwood has become a dangerous place since I was an elfling."

"One day, the shadow will be vanquished," Elladan answered. "Then the world will be safe for all elves and men." Elladan listened to Elrohir's soft breathing and he smiled. "He has fallen asleep..."

Legolas smiled as well and caressed Elladan's face. "Then we will have to lie here with him until he wakes."

The three friends snuggled close as the sun rose outside, not caring how much time passed; they were happy in their little haven beneath the falls.

* * * *

Glorfindel rolled to his back and furrowed his brow as he stretched. He felt Erestor's fingertips caress his face and his frown turned into a smile.

"Erestor..." he murmured.

"'Tis I, Glorfindel," Erestor answered softly. "Are you well this morning?"

Glorfindel opened his eyes and gazed sleepily into Erestor's face. "Yes, I am well. How much of the morning has passed?"

"Nearly all of it," Erestor answered.

"Why did you not wake me?" Glorfindel asked as he rolled to face his lover.

"You were peaceful in your dreams, my friend. I did not wish to disturb you."

"I was with you, in Aman. We were swimming naked, in the ocean near Alqualondë like we did when we were elflings."

"Sounds lovely, perhaps we will do that again someday."

"Are you well, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked.

"Yes."

"You are lying to me. I can always tell when you are being dishonest... your right eyelid twitches. What is the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Erestor..."

"Nothing."

"Erestor!"

"Alright! Last night, something happened, I think, when we were making love."

Glorfindel's gaze clouded over and he turned his head. "I try to make it stop, but there are times I cannot."

Erestor gently grasped his chin, turning Glorfindel's face back to his own. "Has it happened between us before?"

"No."

"What happens, Glorfindel?"

"You do not want to know, Erestor."

"Yes I do. Tell me."

"You will become upset. There is no point in you becoming upset over something you can do nothing about."

"Tell me."

"Really, Erestor. I would rather not."

"Tell me!"

Glorfindel closed his eyes. "It happens sometimes. There is some connection between physical rapture and my death. I do not understand it."

"Do you mean to tell me that when we were making love you felt like..."

"I was dying... yes. I told you that you would become upset."

"What else? What else happens?"

"I see my death again, in my mind. I feel myself running up the path, I hear the city falling, I feel the pain, then..."

"Then?"

"I hear..."

"What? What do you hear?"

"You. I hear you calling out for me, just like I did that day."

"Sweet Elbereth... you heard me."

"I did. Your voice, it followed me somehow, to Mandos' Halls. I have never stopped hearing it. Sometimes, I remember it when I am awake, but I do not normally feel it as I did last night. It is more like a dream I can't wake from..."

"Oh, Glorfindel..."

Erestor wrapped his arms around his precious lover. He had often wondered what Glorfindel remembered, but had never had the courage to ask.

"I am sorry, Erestor," Glorfindel murmured into his shoulder. "I am so, so sorry..."

"Never apologize, Glorfindel. Never apologize for who you are..."

Glorfindel pulled back and gazed into Erestor's glimmering gray eyes. "I am sorry I left you alone with them. I am sorry I convinced you to leave Aman with me. I took you away from your home then I left you alone in a bitter land. I can never forgive myself for that."

"What I wouldn't have forgiven you for is leaving me behind in Aman. We had many long years of happy friendship in Nevrast and Gondolin. You could not have known to what lengths Fëandro would go. You did not know... Besides, you came back to me, you have been with me ever since. Ai, so many years you have borne this alone. Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Glorfindel caressed Erestor's face. "I could not bring myself to talk about it. I felt too much guilt and shame."

"Shame is something that all of us old enough feel from time to time. My own has not left me in all these years. But I am grateful for you, Glorfindel. I am grateful for the years of friendship and loyalty you have given me. And I am most profoundly grateful for what we have now."

Erestor nearly said the words that swelled in his heart, but something told him Glorfindel was not ready to hear them. Instead, he kissed his lover and gave himself over to Glorfindel's touch.

Glorfindel pulled Erestor to lie on top of him and he smiled sadly as he caressed his face. "I depend on you more than you know, Erestor," he said softly. "You are my anchor, you are that which keeps me here, in this life, in this world."

"Are you torn between them?" Erestor asked softly.

"Yes. Sometimes I hear his voice in my mind... It is cold, menacing, threatening. He tells me lies about those I have loved. Sometimes he comes to me in dreams, sometimes as Ecthelion, sometimes as Annatar. He tries to seduce me, he tells me that all those I love have fallen into shadow, he tells me that Aman is in ruins; he promises me power and pleasure. I know he lies, of course, and he does not expect I will believe him. But each time he plants a seed of anger, hoping it will grow as it did in Fëandro."

"How long has this been happening? How does he find you? How does he speak to you? I have never heard him..."

"I first heard his murmuring after my fall with the Balrog. He tries to woo those who walk the path to Mandos' Halls; he tries to steal their spirits. I did not listen to him then. Then Mandos sent me back, and we went to war in Eregion. I think he did something to me then, when we battled one another. I think somehow he forged a connection with me, but it is weak."

"Have you spoken to Elrond about this? There must be something he can do... we both know his powers are potent..."

"No, Erestor... Elrond cannot know of this. The Dark Lord cannot know of our lord's power. If Sauron were to discover who held the Rings..."

"Of course," Erestor answered. "You are right. But there must be something we can do..."

Glorfindel smiled and tucked Erestor's hair behind his ears. "Do not worry for me, my dear lover. Yours is not to solve the world's problems, Erestor. I must believe there is a reason for this, though I know not what it is."

Erestor smiled gently. "If I am not to solve the world's problems, then what am I to do?"

Glorfindel gently nibbled Erestor's chin. "You are to keep me grounded, to keep me happy, and to teach me to be a better elf."

Erestor smiled. "I suppose I can try... though I often wonder if you are not a lost cause..."

"Do not give up on me, Erestor..." Glorfindel whispered.

"Never," Erestor replied, then he kissed his lover.

To be continued...

Summary: Erestor learns to relax, Glorfindel learns to be luxurious, and the twins and Legolas strengthen their friendship.

The house was abuzz with rumor and speculation. Neither Glorfindel nor Erestor came down for breakfast and their absence was noted by not only Lord Elrond, but also the household staff and members of the nobility of Imladris. The twins and Prince Legolas were also missing, however, it was not unusual for the twins to disappear without word and the prince was allowed the luxury of sleeping late as he was a guest. In regards to Glorfindel and Erestor, however, several strange occurrences began to paint a shocking picture. First, the chambermaids found Glorfindel's bed still made, indicating he had not slept in it the night before. Second, the chambermaids in Erestor's wing found his door locked, indicating that he was still abed well past the breakfast hour. In addition, Lord Erestor was not reporting to his office and he placed an order for a larger than normal amount of food to be delivered to his bedchamber at midday. Nor did Glorfindel appear in the barracks. All these facts, when put together by the gossip mill in the Last Homely House, could only mean one thing...

Erestor sat up in bed, his journal balanced on his lap. He cast long, admiring glances at his lover as he wrote in the book. Glorfindel lay upon his stomach, the sheets scantily wrapped around his waist, one long, perfect leg protruding from the creamy silk covering. His arms were spread out, hands resting palms down upon the bed and his hair was tossed about his muscled shoulders. It was the single, most decadent and beautiful sight Erestor had ever seen. His lover was thoroughly spent and undone, sleeping peacefully in his bed.

In the corner of the page, Erestor sketched his god-like sleeping lover, resplendent in all his golden glory. He wished he were a painter, that he could capture the glow of Glorfindel's skin and hair, the warm pink of his lips, the bright sapphire of his eyes. But then he mused he could not, for colors such as these did not exist anywhere else in the world and there was not an artist alive that could truly capture the beauty that lay beside him. The second and third times they had made love in his bed, Glorfindel had not experienced the same sensations as the night before; the Elda had been able to remain in the moment with him. This made Erestor take heart and hope that all would be well and Glorfindel could find peace.

He had not done something as irresponsible and decadent as this since he was an elfling. It was with a smile that he realized that the last time he had shirked his duties and spent the day doing something hedonistic and irresponsible, it was Glorfindel that he had been with. They had played the role of truants. Instead of reporting for their lessons as they were supposed to do, they ran down to the beach, swam in the surf, and spent the day gorging on sweets they had each pilfered from their respective families' kitchens. He remembered lying on the sand next to Glorfindel, both of them naked as the day they were born, finding images of animals in the clouds. He remembered the sweet, innocent way Glorfindel would take his hand, holding his index finger aloft and helping him draw the shapes in the air. He remembered the bond of friendship that had formed so early on between them and it warmed him inside.

He reached down and brushed a lock of hair from Glorfindel's face. Such an enigma, he thought. He was so beautiful, so vulnerable, yet so fierce and strong. Glorfindel was an elf that defied explanation. "My elf... my lion," he whispered silently.

Glorfindel stirred and grimaced as he began to lift himself up. "Oh..." he grumbled. "I'm stiff..."

Erestor smiled and set his journal aside. "Never have I seen an elf that sleeps so much..." He shifted so that he sat atop Glorfindel's backside and he began rubbing his shoulders. "I had no idea you were so prone to luxury, Glorfindel," he teased.

"You are a bad influence, Erestor," Glorfindel mumbled. "Normally I would have been out of bed long before this and busy at work; but every time I try to leave you tempt me into staying."

Erestor chuckled. "Mmm... but you look so delicious like this, debauched and undone in my bed. Can you really blame me?" He leaned down and gently bit Glorfindel's shoulder, sucking on it to leave a love mark.

"Wicked, wicked elf..." Glorfindel murmured with a smile. "How is it that I am the one with the reputation? You are far, far worse than I."

Erestor laughed softly. "Perhaps it is in all the years that we have been friends that I have learned such wickedness. After all, you are my best friend..."

"I see," Glorfindel murmured. "Put it back on me. That is your way, cause trouble then hide behind me, or blame it on me..."

"Blame you, hide behind you, tempt you... it is all the same to me, as long as we continue to enjoy ourselves so immensely. Besides, since when have you been concerned with what others think?"

Glorfindel laughed. "Alright! I yield. There is no winning an argument with you, Erestor..."

Erestor smiled and nuzzled the back of Glorfindel's neck. "Mmm... Gods, I cannot get enough of you..."

Glorfindel closed his eyes and sighed with a smile. "So we will be spending the entire day in bed then?"

Erestor stretched out alongside Glorfindel, his hands roaming his lover's back and over the round globes of his buttocks. "I would like that..."

Glorfindel turned his head so that he could see Erestor and he smiled. "As you wish, Master Erestor..." He gently nipped at Erestor's lower lip. "However, some sustenance would be nice..."

"I have thought of that!" Erestor said with a smile. He climbed out of bed and rolled a cart to the bedside. "Hmm... What do we have here? Oh, look... Food!"

Glorfindel chuckled as he slowly sat up in bed.

"There is some smoked ham, cheeses, mmm... fresh bread, fruits... Oh! Pumpkin tarts! You know how much I love pumpkin tarts... And look!" He smiled wickedly as he held up a crystal decanter. "Miruvor..."

Glorfindel smiled. "Wicked... wicked I say..."

Erestor chuckled and placed a piece of cheese between his teeth, feeding it to his lover. Glorfindel took it carefully and kissed his lover lightly upon the lips before chewing.

"I have an idea..."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "This cannot be good."

"I seem to remember a certain elf that makes a delectable serving device..." He pulled the sheets back and began placing food items upon Glorfindel's body.

"Sweet Elbereth, Erestor... I had no idea you were such a voracious lover... You are going to wear me out."

"Have some miruvor," Erestor said with a grin, and Glorfindel laughed.

* * * *

Legolas smiled as he watched Elladan wash Elrohir's hair. Elladan sat on the edge of a deep spring inside the cave they had spent the night and better part of the morning in. A break in the rock ceiling overhead allowed sunlight to filter through, illuminating the pool of clear blue water. The twins kept a few items handy, such as blankets, changes of clothing, soap and towels, and lembas and flasks of water in their little hideaway. Elrohir's arms rested over his twin's thighs as Elladan slowly and languorously worked the suds into his scalp.

Legolas closed his eyes and listened to the quiet murmuring between the twins. 'Such a love is a rare gift,' he thought to himself, and he wondered how their love came to be. There would be many that could not, and would not, understand the twins' bond. There were many who would not be able to see past the fact that they were brothers to acknowledge and appreciate the deep and abiding love the two had for one another. He supposed that his own role in their relationship made things easier for them – if they were both involved with him sexually, then it would be easier for them to spend so much time together without raising suspicions. He also supposed that was one reason they spent so much time away from home, although their driving need to exterminate the foul beasts that had brutalized their mother was not to be denied. He accepted his role in their relationship gladly – it was a welcome distraction from his own loneliness.

He felt a foot slide up the outside of his leg, and he lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Elrohir smiling at him.

"What are you thinking about, my prince?" Elrohir asked softly.

"I was thinking about the two of you," Legolas answered. "When did you first realize you were in love?"

Elladan smiled. "As soon as we knew what love was. We dabbled at courting others, as that was expected once we came of age, but we knew in our hearts that neither of us could settle for another."

"Yes," Elrohir added, "we have had other lovers of course, for to spend all of our time together without being seen with others would raise too many suspicions. However, we have both known since before coming of age that neither of us would ever bond with another."

Legolas smiled and nodded. "I understand. I can only imagine what it must be like to love with such certainty, with such strength and commitment. I fear I will never know that kind of love, not in my lifetime."

The twins slid over to sit on each side of Legolas, wrapping their arms around him as they softly caressed his skin and dropped gentle kisses to his head.

"So much of your life is still ahead of you, your lifetime will last through the ages, Legolas. Much can happen in so long a time," Elladan said softly.

"Mine is not a life to be lived for love," Legolas answered quietly. "I am a warrior, a soldier, I have committed my life to protecting that which is most precious to me, to that which is the center of my being."

"To protect one's homeland is a brave and honorable duty for a prince. To devote your life to serving your king and your people is indeed admirable, but it is no substitute for love, nor does one need to exclude the other," Elrohir answered.

Legolas nodded. "Aye, I understand what you say. Perhaps one day I will find such a love, but for now I am content to be a warrior in service to my king."

Elrohir looked at Elladan over the top of Legolas head and his eyes were filled with concern. They each sensed that Legolas bore a heavy burden but neither was able to discern what it could be.

"Is this difficult for you, my friend?" Elladan asked quietly. "Is being involved with the two of us too much to ask? We would not be selfish or disregard your feelings, you have become very important to us."

"No, no..." Legolas answered. "I am honored that you choose to share so much with me and I value the friendship that has grown between us. I would not change things, I am content with the two of you."

Elladan nodded in reply and Elrohir answered, "We hope you would tell us if your feelings began to change. We would never wish to hurt you or cause bad feelings between the three of us."

Legolas smiled and placed a kiss upon each of their concerned faces. "I have never been one to not speak my mind; it is a trait I inherited from my father."

The twins smiled and answered in unison, "Good."

"Come," Elrohir added as he tugged upon Legolas' hand. "It is time we rejoined the living..."

They rose from the warm water and gathered their clothing, returning to the Last Lonely House just before midday.

To be continued...

Summary: Erestor's nightmares return, things begin to change.

The day passed lazily. While most of the residents of Imladris went about their normal daily chores, the Last Homely House was quiet. Elrond worked in his study most of the day, taking time out during the afternoon to go for a walk with Arwen and Estel. While his daughter's growing affection for the young Dúnadan caused him some concern, he did love Estel like a son and was proud of the man he was becoming; the day would soon come when Elrond would reveal Estel's true identity to him.

Erestor emerged from his bedchamber just long enough to sign a few important documents. Glorfindel took the opportunity to jog down to the barracks and make sure all was well before returning to his lover's bedchamber. Each elf lord was aware of the smiles and hushed whispers as they attended to these brief duties, but neither seemed to mind. The gossip mill of the Last Homely House was as unstoppable as the march of time.

The twins and Legolas stealthily made their way back into the Last Homely House. Legolas had to suppress a snicker as he stole back into his bedchamber via the window; it reminded him of mischief he engaged in when he was young. He quickly changed clothes and messed up the bed before emerging into the hallway to see the chambermaids bustling about the guest wing. He smiled and nodded as he passed and made his way down to the dining hall to see if there was any food left from the midday meal. Shortly after arriving, Elladan joined him, soon followed by Elrohir, both having changed into riding clothes.

As evening fell upon the sheltered valley of Imladris, Glorfindel and Erestor were again conspicuously missing from the evening meal, and Elrond made his apologies to Legolas, who certainly wasn't offended. In fact, the prince was pleased; it gladdened his heart to know that they had reconciled.

Legolas retired to his room that evening with a thick volume on the history of Middle-earth and the wars during the First and Second Ages. Something had been bothering him for a long time and he was on a quest for answers to some questions he had. The twins spent the evening chatting with Arwen and Estel before retiring to their separate rooms.

Erestor lay in Glorfindel's arms, savoring the sensation of his lover's flesh against his own. They were wrapped in a thick blanket as they lay together on a chaise on his terrace. Stars twinkled above in the midnight velvet of the early winter sky and Ithil shined silver light upon the steep canyon walls, pooling on the valley floor. Glorfindel's arms encircled him and his legs wrapped over his own so that he was snuggled deeply in his lover's embrace. He gazed up at his friend-turned-lover, watching his azure eyes as they searched the eastward sky.

"What are you thinking of?" Erestor asked quietly.

"I am not so much thinking as listening," Glorfindel answered in a low voice.

"What is it that you hear?"

"I am not sure. Something is changing; there is an air of... unrest about. I can almost hear him, growling in his black pit. He is waiting, waiting for something to happen... He searches still, searches for the one thing he desires above all else."

"How Elrond held back from dragging Isildur off the cliff and into the flames, I will never know. Perhaps it would be better if he had killed that foolish, arrogant man. If he finds the Ring, all that death, all that pain and suffering will be for naught."

"I wonder what I would have done had I been the one that confronted Isildur. It is not so easy to cast one's kin into the flames. I suppose, had it been me, I would have taken the Ring from him with the intent to destroy it. But who is to say if I could have resisted its call? After all, there is a bond of sorts between me and its creator; maybe I would have succumbed as well."

"Ever this bane haunts us, even as it hides from us. Is there nowhere that it can be hidden that is safe?"

"My heart tells me not. I fear the only safety lies in its destruction, but to destroy it we must first find it, and in all these long years no one has succeeded in that task." Glorfindel wrapped his arms tighter around Erestor. "Enough of this talk of dark things. Tell me a story, Erestor. Take my mind off of these troubles."

Erestor snuggled closer, resting his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "Alright, I shall tell you tales of when Elrond and Elros were young and we lived in the Havens."

Glorfindel closed his eyes and smiled. "Yes, tell me of that time."

* * * *

The dream began with the sound of his own breathing and his heart hammering in his chest. Gravel crunched beneath his feet and above the pounding of his blood in his head, he heard his home being reduced to rubble.

"Faster, Idril," he breathed. "We must get you out of here!"

"Come, my love," Tuor said with labored breath, "we are nearly to the passage..."

Young Eärendil clung tightly to his neck, trying hard to be brave and not weep from fear. He held Idril's arm in one hand, his sword in the other, as they ran up the path.

"Uncle 'Restor!" Eärendil shouted, "What is that?"

Erestor turned and looked in the direction that the boy was pointing. To his horror, he saw a Balrog descending the mountain. The caterwaul of orcs came from both behind and in front, and they stopped running. Erestor quickly handed Eärendil to his mother as both he and Tuor held their swords aloft, prepared to fight to their deaths. In that moment, Erestor felt the weight of impending death upon him and distractedly wondered what the path to Mandos' Halls was going to look like. He did not grieve his own loss of life so much as that of Tuor, Idril, and Eärendil – to die so young, with so much left to do... All around them the high pitched whine of Elven arrows split the night sky, Elvish steel rang out into the darkness as both Erestor's and Glorfindel's regiments prepared to defend the refugee band that included king's daughter and grandson. 'If I am to die,' he thought, 'I will not die easy and I will take as many with me as I may.'

He heard a fierce war cry split the night and he wheeled to see his best friend charging up the path toward the fell beast. "Glorfindel!" he cried, and Glorfindel's regiment echoed their lord's war cry. He watched his friend intercept the beast. Glorfindel was driven to his knees with the first blow of the Balrog's blade of fire. He recovered in time to dodge the deadly whip that crashed down around him and spun, hewing the beast's whip arm, but then the Balrog roared and grasped Glorfindel by his long golden mane. Having no escape from the beast's grip, Glorfindel turned and plunged his sword deep into the chest of the monster and was caught as the Balrog fell from the cliffs.

Erestor cried out in anguish, calling his best friend's name as he fell. But he had little time for grief as orcs fell hard upon them, and if it were not for the valor of Gondolindrim and the might of the Eagles, they would have all been lost.

Erestor gasped as he sat up in bed clutching the sheets to his chest. "Glorfindel..." he whispered, and he turned to reach for his lover, but the bed was empty. "Glorfindel?" he called with an unsteady voice.

"Here, Erestor."

Erestor turned to see him emerging from the bath. His lover's long, easy stride caused the rapid hammering in his chest to subside. Glorfindel slid back beneath the sheets and took Erestor's trembling form in his arms.

"What is the matter? You are shaking..."

"Dream. Nightmare. I dreamt of... of... that last night."

Glorfindel smoothed the hair from Erestor's face and placed soft kisses upon his eyelids. "That is indeed a bad dream, my lover," he whispered. "But that night is long past, there are no more Balrogs and Morgoth is banished. We are safe."

Erestor caressed Glorfindel's face with his fingertips as he gazed deep into his lover's eyes. "Just let me look at you awhile," he whispered.

Glorfindel smiled. "As you wish, Master Erestor..."

* * * *

The months passed on and the snow fell deep upon the mountains. Arwen traveled with an escort comprised of Glorfindel's finest soldiers to Lórien to visit her grandparents, making it through before the first heavy snowfall. Lord Elrond insisted that Legolas stay through the winter, at least until the first thaw, and the prince agreed. He trained daily with the twins and with Glorfindel's regiment; he helped to improve their stealth and archery skills, they helped him improve his swordsmanship. His bond with the twins strengthened and they continued to lie together as often as they could.

They were on patrol one cold winter evening. Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir had broken away from the main regiment to scout the eastern boundary. It was late winter, typically a time when Arda began to wake from her long slumber, but this night it felt like the very depths of winter. The snow lay thick upon the ground, the rumbling of avalanches echoed high up in the mountains and the world seemed devoid of life.

Legolas sat on a rock, his quiver strapped to his back, his bow in his hand as he listened to the murmurings of the earth. A high pitched scream, unlike any he had heard in his life split the air from a distance. He was on his feet, arrow knocked and bowstring drawn as Elladan and Elrohir climbed the rock beside him, swords drawn.

"What was that?" Legolas asked.

"Úlairi," Elladan answered.

Legolas turned to look at him with wide eyes.

"You have never seen one," Elrohir continued. "We have. I had hoped to never see another again."

"It came from the mountains," Legolas answered. "But it is so far away I cannot tell from exactly where the sound came."

"If you see one, run," Elladan counseled as he climbed down from the rock. "They cannot be killed."

"Among us, only our kindred that have seen the Light of Aman can stand against them; they can pierce the veil between shadow and light. The Úlairi fear them, but not us," Elrohir added.

"Is your sister safe?" Legolas asked.

"Yes, the Golden Wood is one of the safest places in all of Middle-earth. She will come to no harm as long as she is with our grandparents."

"Where there are Úlairi, there are most likely yrch," Elladan said with a grumble. "The Dark Lord's hoard travels in packs."

"And wargs," Elrohir added. "We had better investigate and get word back to Glorfindel."

"Yes," Elladan agreed. "This is far too close to our home for comfort."

Legolas scanned the sky once more, but saw nothing. He then climbed down from the rock and followed the twins into the forest.

* * * *

Glorfindel was not on watch, so he tried to get some sleep. However, he never slept soundly while on patrol, to do so was to court danger. He sat against a tree trunk, his bedroll wrapped around him to shelter him from the wet snow. He hovered between wakefulness and dreams, memories and visions colliding in his mind, causing his brow to furrow. The battle for Eregion was being played out in his mind when the faint shriek of the Nazgûl caused his eyes to open.

"So you are still looking for it," he murmured, as he slowly disentangled himself from his bedroll.

"My lord!"

He turned to find one of his soldiers standing before him, wide eyed and breathing heavily.

"Did you hear that sound?"

Glorfindel nodded and placed his hand upon the young soldier's shoulder. "Aye, but fear not, it is far away from here."

"What was it?"

"Úlairi," he answered. "Our old enemy has awakened..." He scanned the treetops and listened for sounds of orcs. "Alert the others, I have the feeling we will be encountering yrch soon enough."

The young soldier nodded and rushed off to wake the others.

To be continued...

Summary: War is in the air.

Erestor paced his office nervously. He could not account for the increasing sense of anxiety he felt; there had been no word from the patrols on the southern and eastern borders. He had begun having nightmares again, dreams of war and death and destruction. He had not had nightmares since shortly after coming to Imladris, but now they haunted him most nights.

He and Glorfindel had an argument right before the warrior left on patrol. Glorfindel had been in charge of Imladris' defenses since the founding of the realm. Since Glorfindel was old enough to wield a sword, he had chosen to be a soldier in service to others. Upon Glorfindel's coming of age, he requested that he be initiated into the ranks of Fingolfin. They had fought side by side in more wars and battles than either cared to remember; Erestor was well aware of Glorfindel's prowess as a warrior. However, Erestor had a bad feeling that something was going to happen to Glorfindel, and against his better judgement, he begged him not to go. Glorfindel tried to placate him, which made matters worse, and suddenly, he felt like a nervous and doting wife, not the old warrior and wise councilor that he truly was. Glorfindel tried to apologize, he, in turn, acted petulant, and to add insult to injury, his lover kissed him on the head like a child before mounting his horse and riding away. He was sure that the argument heightened his sense of anxiety. He felt angry, scared and humiliated; these were feelings he was not accustomed to experiencing.

He drifted from cursing Glorfindel to cursing himself as he paced the floor of his office. Paperwork stacked on the corner of his desk mocked him, for he could not summon the ability to focus on anything. He growled in frustration and knocked the papers from his desk, sending them scattering to the floor; then he stopped his pacing and wadded his hair in his fingers.

"Having a bad day, are we?"

He turned to see Lindir standing in his office doorway.

"One can hear your grumbling and shuffling clear out into the hallway."

Lindir stepped inside and knelt on the floor beside Erestor then began picking up the papers.

"Leave them," Erestor replied. "I do not need you to do that."

"I know, but I like doing things for you," Lindir replied smoothly. "It is what friends do for one another."

Erestor groaned and knelt in the floor beside Lindir, placing the papers back in order and putting them upon the desktop.

"You look terrible," Lindir said softly, brushing a braid behind Erestor's ear.

"I have not been sleeping," Erestor answered.

"Things are strange now, are they not?"

"Yes."

"There are so many times I feel like talking to you, or putting an arm around you, or dragging you out into the gardens for one of our strolls like we used to take. But each time I imagine Glorfindel's fingers around my neck, choking the life out of me, and I think again."

Erestor chuckled despite his foul mood.

"I miss you, Erestor," Lindir said softly, his long fingers coming to rest upon Erestor's shoulder.

"I have not been a very good friend," Erestor replied.

"'Tis not your fault," Lindir replied. "Glorfindel seems quite possessive and it is understandable that you would want to keep the peace in your new relationship."

"Glorfindel..." Erestor grumbled. "All my life I have followed him and looked to him for direction. He is like this overwhelming force that cannot be ignored. I followed him to Middle-earth, followed him to Nevrast and Gondolin... Only when he was gone did I learn what it felt like to stand upon my own two feet, make my own way in this world." Erestor knew he shouldn't be saying these things, but it felt good to vent his frustrations.

"I know what you need, Erestor," Lindir said softly.

"What?" Erestor grumbled in reply.

"A nice long walk in the woods followed by a long, hot bath."

Erestor smiled but shook his head slightly. "I have so much work to do..."

"Which will all still be there tomorrow..."

Erestor looked at Lindir and smiled. "Of course, you are right. Come, join me."

Lindir smiled and nodded. "I would love to."

* * * *

While Lindir and Erestor were strolling through the gardens, talking over old times, Glorfindel and his soldiers were pursuing a band of orcs on the southern border of Imladris. He had the nagging feeling that this was a trap, that they were not pursuing as much as being led; however, he could not let the orcs escape.

Branches snapping, nets exploding from beneath the fallen leaves and snow, snatching up elves as they ran, confirmed his fears. Suddenly they were surrounded, orcs and uruk-hai emerging from the tree line, wargs charging at them from the dim shadows. The battle was fierce; many were wounded. Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas arrived when things were looking most grim; Middle-earth's most feared orc slayers set about their task with unbridled fierceness. Legolas took up position on a tall boulder, letting arrows fly from his bow with blinding speed.

When the battle was done, not an orc, uruk, or warg was left standing. Glorfindel lost a quarter of his patrol and another quarter was wounded. He limped through the carnage as his soldiers went about rescuing their captured friends from the nets that had dragged them up into the trees. A low growl escaped him as he watched; he knew the fate that the orcs had planned for those in the nets and it was a fate worse than death itself.

While those still hardy enough watched the perimeter for another ambush, elves trained in healing, including Elladan and Elrohir, were tending to the wounded. Legolas helped gather materials to build litters to carry the wounded that couldn't walk and supervised the building of a pyre to burn the bodies of the dead. Anger boiled deep inside Glorfindel. He had not lost a soldier since the Battle of Fornost, almost a thousand years before. He watched the young, stalwart prince perform these acts with a detached resignation of one that had seen far too much death already in his young life. "Thranduil raised you well for the world we have inherited," he murmured to himself.

After the wounded were secured and tended to, he left behind a patrol led by the twins and Legolas and instructed them to watch the border but not engage the enemy until reinforcements could be sent. He took the remaining number of battle-ready warriors and returned to the Last Homely House with the wounded on horseback.

* * * *

Erestor and Lindir returned to the Last Homely House after a long, refreshing walk in the snow-covered woods. Lindir followed Erestor as far as the door to his living quarters then bowed to bid him good day.

"I will take my leave of you, my friend," Lindir said quietly. "It has been a pleasure sharing the afternoon with you."

Erestor, his face flushed from the cool air, snowflakes melting in his raven hair and upon his dark cloak, smiled. Lindir smiled in return, it had been many months since he had seen such a beautiful sight.

Erestor reached out and caught Lindir by the wrist. "Wait. We have several hours before the evening meal. Come, have some tea with me and warm yourself by the fire." Lindir looked reluctant and he smiled, tugging upon the minstrel's wrist. "Come, do not be such a frightened waif. You are my friend, Lindir. Glorfindel does not dictate who I spend my time with."

"I do not wish to cause any trouble," Lindir responded reluctantly.

"Lindir, I must insist. Come inside."

Lindir followed Erestor into his living quarters, closing the door behind him as he hung his damp cloak on a peg by the door. The two sat in large chairs by the fire, warming themselves as they sipped hot tea that Erestor prepared. Lindir had not stopped missing Erestor since his former lover became involved with Glorfindel. He was not one to meddle in the affairs of others, but he found himself wanting to be held in Erestor's arms again, wanting those hands to mold him and command him, wanting those lips to claim his own. He missed Erestor's dominant touch, his deep voice echoing in his ears. He shifted in his chair, suddenly the room was too warm, his clothes too confining.

"I should be leaving," he said quietly. "I need to bathe before dressing for dinner, but..."

"But what?"

"I do not really want to leave."

Erestor sat back in his chair, gazing at his former lover. Lindir was an extraordinarily handsome elf, tall and willowy, his fair hair gleaming against his ivory skin. He looked into those large blue eyes, remembering the times they spent together, how much Lindir pleased him as a lover. He wanted to answer, but found he could not. He found that part of him wanted to claim Lindir as his own again; being with Lindir was so much easier than being with Glorfindel. With Lindir, he did not feel as though he was losing himself. But he also knew that the larger part, his heart, belonged with Glorfindel, no matter how hurt and angry he was with his lover.

"We can still be friends, can we not?" Erestor asked softly. "I would not lose your friendship because of my relationship with Glorfindel."

Lindir was perched on the edge of his chair, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes cast toward the floor. "I think we can try. I do not want to lose your friendship either, though I admit I do still wish we could have more than that." He sighed and looked up at Erestor. "I will try to change my feelings, give me time."

Erestor nodded. "I would be lying to you if I said that I do not miss you in that same way, Lindir. But my heart belongs to Glorfindel now, for right or wrong, and I will not lie to you about that."

"Thank you for being honest with me, Erestor," Lindir replied. "You have always been honest with me."

"And you me," Erestor answered with a nod.

"Well, I must go now," Lindir said quietly, and he rose from his place upon the chair. "Thank you for spending the day with me, I enjoyed it immensely."

Erestor rose as well and crossed the room to Lindir. He smiled and embraced his old friend. "Thank you, Lindir. This was just what I needed."

As they separated, they stared into each other's eyes for just a moment. Their lips were so close, they could feel one another's breath. Lindir wanted so badly to kiss Erestor and he thought for just a moment that Erestor might want the same. Then the moment passed and Erestor released him; he then bowed his head and departed the councilor's chambers.

* * * *

Erestor heard the shouting and chaos of elves returning in the courtyard as he tied off the last braid in his hair. From the frantic calls, he knew something was terribly wrong. Grabbing his robe and cloak, he quickly exited his chamber and ran down the hall toward the courtyard. As he exited the main hall, he could see that things were as bad as he feared. Injured elves were being hastily carried from the courtyard toward the healing chambers; things were so bad that Lord Elrond himself was helping to tend to the more severely wounded soldiers. His heart was in his throat as he ran down the steps, taking three at a time in his haste to get to the bottom.

He searched the group frantically with his eyes for the form of his lover. Finally, he saw the golden mane of his beloved; Glorfindel was arguing with one of the healer's attendants about being taken to the healer's chambers. He danced in and out of elves and grooms and soldiers until finally reaching his lover.

"Glorfindel!" he cried.

Glorfindel turned, leaning heavily upon the shoulders of his second. He was covered in both red and black blood, his garments soiled from battle. Erestor reached him and put his arms around his lover, relieving Glorfindel's second from his burden.

"See that the healers have all they need, Amdír," Glorfindel said as he shifted his weight from his second to his lover.

Amdír bowed his head and rushed toward the healing chambers.

"Sweet Elbereth, what happened?" Erestor asked as he inspected his lover.

"We were ambushed on the southern border by two regiments of yrch and uruk-hai. There were warg riders among them."

Erestor's old battle commander self took over in the chaos. "You are injured. That will need to be cleaned and stitched," he remarked, his eyes resting on an angry gash that split the warrior's sleeve. He began escorting a reluctant, but too tired to argue Glorfindel toward the healer's chambers. "How many wounded?"

"Twenty, sixteen were killed."

"Sixteen, dead?" Erestor whispered a prayer to Mandos as he walked slowly beside the limping Glorfindel. "Elladan and Elrohir? The prince?"

"All fine; I left Elladan and Elrohir in charge. I tell you, Erestor, Legolas may be young, but I have seen few with such fire for battle in their blood. He fought with valor; his bow saved many that could be among the ranks of the dead, including me. He never flinched, never wavered, even when wargs were bearing down on him." Glorfindel coughed and Erestor felt a tremor course through his lover's body. "We left none of the beasts alive, but we will have to strengthen the patrols on the southern border. It is rare to see so many yrch in one place, rarer still for them to be so organized."

They reached the healer's chambers and Erestor helped Glorfindel to a low table. Blood was slowly oozing from a large wound as he opened his lover's ripped tunic and removed the makeshift bandage. The angry gash ran from armpit to hip. The flesh around the wound was inflamed and the surrounding skin was hot to the touch. Erestor could see by the paleness of Glorfindel's skin and the sweat that beaded on his forehead that the wound had been poisoned.

"Stay here, I will get the healer."

Glorfindel nodded and sighed heavily as Erestor disappeared into the chaos.

To be continued...

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel have a talk, Erestor makes a mistake, Legolas and the twins return home.

Legolas crouched upon a large rock, his ears trained upon the trees, his gaze searching ceaselessly for any sign of danger. He was weary, far more tired than he had been in many years, and he missed his home. He worried for his father; if the Dark Lord's minions had been so bold as to attack Imladris, then surely they would attack Mirkwood. His home was not as safe as the hidden valley, and his father was a warrior king, one who rode first into battle. "Be safe, father," he whispered to the wind, hoping Manwë's wings would carry the request to his father's ears.

"They are gone," Elladan said, as he slid off his horse. "If we left any alive..."

Elrohir brought a sack of grain to Elladan's weary gelding. "The question is, what were they doing here, and did they discover the entrance to our valley?"

Legolas shook his head, his grim expression not changing. "As uncharacteristic as this attack was, these beasts are just that, beasts – with a lust for blood and destruction. Had they found the entrance, it is certain that they would be bearing down upon it with all their might. You can be sure that the Dark Lord has not forgotten the destruction that elves and men brought to his own door."

"But for so many to come at once?" Elrohir queried. "We have seen roving bands of yrch in the mountains and near Eregion, but never this far west, and never so many together. This does not bode well."

"They are swarming the valley of the Anduin," Legolas said quietly. "Great hoards of uruk-hai scour the valley, but do not venture into the woods nor attack my kinsmen or the Beornings. It is rare for uruk to do anything but make war. This is part of the reason for my visit here, my father and I believe they are searching for something."

Elladan closed his eyes and sighed. "The times change so quickly; the watchful peace is coming to an end. Soon, we will be forced to leave or ride to war."

"I will never leave," Legolas answered. "This is my home, I will not let it fall to ruin; I will not run from the fight."

Elrohir nodded. "Nor will we, my friend. Even if our kindred leave, we will stay and fight. We will ride with the Grey Company, as we have done for so many years."

Legolas smiled and nodded. "Perhaps one day we will stand at the Black Gate as our fathers did, and we will fight for the freedom of Middle-earth with the same valor."

Elladan placed an arm around their friend and smiled. "Aye, my friend, and it will be an honor."

* * * *

Glorfindel gritted his teeth and tried to relay the events of that morning to Lord Elrond as the Peredhel stitched the wound in his arm. The herbs given to him to quell the effects of the poison were already taking effect and he was beginning to feel heavy. Elrond took note of his captain's report and instructed Erestor to take him back to his bed.

"He will need a few days rest. Give him this tonic once more before you retire and again in the morning. I will instruct Amdír that he is in charge until Glorfindel has recovered."

Erestor nodded and took one of the warrior's arms over his shoulder. "Come, Glorfindel, to bed with you..."

"Honestly, Erestor. You really do have a singular mind," the Elda teased.

Elrond chuckled as Erestor groaned in exasperation, and he shook his head as he returned to tending to the wounded.

As they ascended the staircase, Erestor shifted his burden further onto his shoulders. "Do try to walk, Glorfindel. You are a bit heavy for me to carry the rest of the way..."

"Did you miss me?" Glorfindel purred flirtatiously into Erestor's ear.

"This is not the time, you oaf. Now walk before I drag you by the hair..."

"Ooh... that sounds interesting. I do so enjoy it when you take charge."

"Sweet Elbereth, Glorfindel. Stop being such a naughty elfling and help me!"

"I am helping. I cannot help it that my legs do not... oh!" Glorfindel's knees buckled and he landed in a heap at Erestor's feet. "What was in that tonic?" he asked, his words slurring.

"By the Valar..." Erestor grumbled. "You never could handle your spirits well..."

He grasped Glorfindel under the arms and dragged him the rest of the way to his room. A smile curved his lips as he watched the warrior's golden head bobbing and swaying to and fro, soft mumbling and giggles escaping his lips.

"I can only imagine the mood you are going to be in if you remember this, you do so hate to look undignified," Erestor mused.

He fumbled with the latch and opened the door, kicking it open with one booted foot as he dragged the warrior in through the doorway.

"You look as though you could use a hand."

Erestor looked back to the doorway to see Lindir standing there, his arms folded across his chest. "I could. Please..."

Lindir smiled and entered Glorfindel's chamber. "I went to the healer's quarters as soon as I heard to see if I could be of help. Lord Elrond suggested that you might be needing help getting Glorfindel into the bed. He was smiling quite strangely when he said so..."

Erestor chuckled. "Where were you a few moments ago when I was dragging him down the hallway? Come. Help me get him onto the bed."

Lindir took one arm and Erestor the other, and with a grunt they heaved the sedated Elda into his over-large bed. Lindir took one boot and Erestor the other, as they began divesting the warrior of his battle stained clothing. They made quick work of it, and Lindir tossed Glorfindel's muddy boots by the door as Erestor found a nightshirt to put on him.

Lindir smiled and bowed his head, bidding Erestor a good night as he watched the councilor tuck the warrior into bed. "I am most pleased that he was not harmed too badly," he said softly.

"Thank you, Lindir," Erestor answered.

"I will be about my work now. I am going to write a lament for those of our kindred who have fallen. Lord Elrond wants to have a ceremony for them as soon as the others return."

Erestor nodded and bowed his head in return, watching as the minstrel quietly closed the door behind him. He turned his attentions to his lover, who was sleeping peacefully, a smile spread across his lips. Erestor brushed a lock of hair from Glorfindel's face, his fingertips softly exploring the warrior's face and ears. When he thought of what could have happened, when he tried to imagine Glorfindel's body lying upon the pyre, panic seized him. "I cannot lose you again, Glorfindel. No matter what happens between us, whether we learn to live together or no, as long as you walk this earth, as long as you draw breath, I will be comforted, even if we cannot be together..." he whispered. He lay down beside his lover, his head resting on Glorfindel's shoulder.

* * * *

His dreams returned that night. This time he was in Eregion. The city burned around them, elves were fleeing the city, heading north as the ranks of Elrond made safe their passage. There was no Balrog this time; there was something far worse, more evil, more dangerous than even the darkest of Morgoth's beasts.

He saw evil incarnate break through the lines before the gate. Proud Númenor and Noldor fell and fled before him, dying by the score. He was riding straight for Elrond, for the one that dared to turn him away from Lindon, for the one that dared to stand against him with the Númenor.

Glorfindel, sworn to protect the descendant of his great king, put himself between Elrond and Annatar and confronted the devil himself. Annatar charged him on his great black horse and Glorfindel pulled him from the horse's back. Fear choked him as he watched Glorfindel grapple with Sauron himself. They were surrounded; Glorfindel was unarmed and taken captive.

Erestor's cry split the air; roused by its fierceness he and Elrond led the charge. The Elves of Imladris and the warriors of the Númenor closed upon them and Sauron was driven back and Glorfindel rescued. His best friend slipped into a state of unconsciousness, and amidst the battle cry of the Noldor and the Númenor as they rallied and drove Sauron and his hoard from the city, he held his friend's head in his lap and wept. He pleaded with Mandos to return him again, or to take him as well.

Erestor sat up in Glorfindel's bed, his heart hammering its insistent rhythm, his skin beaded in a cold sweat. He looked to see his lover lying beside him, his chest rising and falling slowly in his sleep.

Glorfindel murmured, "Erestor..."

Erestor placed a kiss upon Glorfindel's whispering lips. "I am here, my love..."

* * * *

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas returned with the remainder of Glorfindel's patrol. Legolas slid from his horse and rubbed her muzzle before sending her to the stable. He stretched and groaned quietly; he was looking forward to a good, long, hot bath, a warm meal, and a long night's rest in a soft bed.

Lord Elrond came down to the courtyard to greet his sons. He embraced both of them tightly, holding on to them for long moments before releasing them. He turned and smiled at Legolas, who had a wistful look in his eye.

"Come inside. Cook has prepared a welcoming meal for you and you must tell me of all you saw."

Legolas smiled and followed Elrond and his sons into the Last Homely House.

* * * *

"I am fine, Erestor," Glorfindel grumbled. His lover stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. "I would very much like to sit down at the table and eat a meal like a normal member of this household. Please, I do not want to argue with you."

"Why not? It is something you are becoming increasingly good at."

Glorfindel opened his mouth to answer then shut it abruptly. He took a deep breath then continued. "Have I done something to offend you? You seem quite hostile toward me as of late."

"Perhaps I am growing weary of looking after you as though you were an elfling."

Glorfindel stared at his lover in disbelief. He was vaguely aware of his mouth hanging open, of the warm coloring of his cheeks, and of the tremor in his hands. "I do not believe I asked you to," he responded coldly.

"If I do not, then who will? It is what I have done most of my life. Really, Glorfindel, you are a walking disaster. You charge into things without the slightest concern for the consequences, you put yourself in harm's way..."

"That is my vocation!" he barked. "This is nothing new, Erestor. I am a soldier; I have always been a soldier. I cannot afford the luxury of retrospection in battle, I have to charge ahead!" He threw up his hands. "For Elbereth's sake! You have been a soldier, you know what it is to fight. You know perfectly well what I am talking about!"

"There is no need to shout..."

"Yes, there is! What is the matter with you? One would think that you believe I got injured just to spite you or to get your attention..."

Erestor cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I cannot believe this," Glorfindel replied. "You actually think this was some sort of ploy on my part? Do you think I arranged the ambush and death of my soldiers as well?"

"No," Erestor replied quietly. "But I asked you not to go; in fact, I begged you. I warned you that something would happen and you treated me as if I were some hysterical she-elf. Now look, you sit there wounded and still you find fault with me."

"I do not understand this," Glorfindel murmured. "What would you have me do? I can only be what I am, Erestor."

"I would have you treat me as I treat you, I would have you consider what it is that those who love you go through when you charge into these situations. I swear, some days I wonder if you are not still seeking Mandos' Halls."

Glorfindel stared blankly at his lover then closed his eyes. Erestor knew the moment the words passed his lips he was wrong to say them. His admission of love was lost to the accusation. He tried to tell Glorfindel he loved him but instead, he wounded him.

"Perhaps you are right," Glorfindel murmured. "Maybe I really should stay in bed for another day. You go on to the banquet hall; please give my condolences to Lord Elrond."

"Glorfindel... I'm..."

"You will be late. You should go."

"I do not want to."

"I want you to. Please, Erestor. I cannot do this; I cannot do this anymore. I do not know what you want from me... I cannot..." He sighed and lay down, turning his back to his lover.

Erestor closed his eyes and turned on his heel, gathering his composure as he made his way to the banquet hall.

To be continued...

Summary: Erestor tells Glorfindel a secret, Glorfindel makes a confession, Legolas dreams of happier times.

Erestor spent the evening wearing a calm expression of neutrality but inside his emotions were raging, swinging violently between anger, fear and regret. He had always known he had a sharp tongue; it was one of his faults. But as he had spent his youth under the tutelage of Aredhel, he had learned to temper his words with tact and forethought; it had been many years since he had lashed out verbally at anyone. As a soldier, he had been honorable and brave, yet reluctant. He fought bravely and skillfully; he was one of the best among his peers, yet fear and revulsion had ever been present during battle. He had always wanted to be a librarian or a statesman, not a warrior; but he had heeded Glorfindel's advice that the world could be dangerous and he needed to know how to defend himself. Glorfindel had taught him how to wield a sword and shoot a bow when they were young, though Erestor oftentimes equaled his teacher in these things. Once his prowess was discovered, he was swept up into the ranks of Fingolfin's guard and reluctantly established a reputation as a fearsome warrior and one as a trusted friend.

He wondered why he suddenly felt so much anger toward Glorfindel. It was not as if he did not have the power to refuse him. It was not as if he did not have the ability to choose his own path in life. As he sat in the Hall of Fire, listening to the haunting and beautiful lament that Lindir sang for their fallen comrades, he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to the days of his youth.

He and Glorfindel became friends after the tall, golden-haired elf caught his attention during their schooling; he was immediately attracted by Glorfindel's sense of humor and easy-going ways. Glorfindel was an elf that everyone wanted to be around, even when he was still very young. They became fast friends; Erestor's sharp intellect combined with Glorfindel's unabashed optimism and honorable nature made them a pair to be marveled at. As they reached their majority, they shared their youthful infatuations and their hopes and dreams. When Fëanor called upon his kindred to pursue Morgoth to the ends of the earth, Glorfindel had been one of the first to volunteer, and of course, Erestor would not be left behind.

How much had changed since then. After many years as a warrior, Erestor finally had achieved what he had always wanted – a position of statesmen, of advisor to one the most powerful elves in the history of Middle-earth. He spent his days wielding a quill among books and maps and illustrations of their history. He was a chronicler, a recorder of their lives and times on earth, a maker of policy; he had a peaceful life. Yet, did he really? With all the fulfillment that came from serving Elrond, from preserving art and history and all that was good about their existence, there was still always something missing. In his long, long life, he had never been in love. He had never felt the consuming fire of love burn his soul and set his heart to flame. That is, until now.

He loved Glorfindel, he always had. However, now he was in love with Glorfindel, and that was a different animal altogether. He was consumed by doubt, fearful of losing him, jealously possessive of him, as if he were a precious jewel to be guarded and cherished. A wry grin almost curved his lips as he finally realized what Fëanor must have felt. However, Glorfindel was not his creation, not a thing to be hoarded or kept locked away. Glorfindel was fiercely independent, unerringly loyal, kind and giving, beautiful beyond the measure of his kind, even if he was as stubborn as a goat; Glorfindel was perfect in his eyes.

How unworthy he felt of such an elf. Indeed, he doubted Glorfindel loved him in the same way. Glorfindel loved him, this is true, but it was a love born of long years of friendship and trust. If the Elda felt the same, would he not read it in his eyes? Would he not hear it in his voice? Would he not sense it with every fiber of his being? Once again, he found himself cursing the wager that the two of them had made. Now that he had a taste of what loving Glorfindel was like, he feared he could not go without it, even as his instincts told him to end it before it got worse.

Lindir's lament ended and the attendees were slowly filing out of the Hall of Fire, heads bowed, blessings being whispered upon their lips. Erestor followed suit, his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his black robes, his head bowed and his blessings whispered to Mandos for the souls of the fallen. He stopped by Glorfindel's room on the way back to his own, there was no light coming from beneath the door and upon laying his hand on the handle, he found it locked. He whispered goodnight to his lover and continued on to his own room.

* * * *

Horrible sounds greeted his young ears. He had never heard the sound of battle, never heard the sound of death. Running through the darkness, caught up in the flood of soldiers, he emerged from the trees to find elves fighting elves. His mind screamed at him to turn away, to run from this madness, but before he could heed the warning, he was fending off blows from a tall, slender, silver-haired elf wearing the garb of the Teleri.

Spinning, slashing, jabbing, caught up in the mad dance of death, dealing out fate with his sword, trying to stay alive. He fought with vigor, fear transforming to fury in his confused state, and many fell by his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friend, dealing crushing blows, hewing limbs, his golden hair and silver raiment fouled by the blood of their kin.

The battle was fierce but short and he found himself standing amid the dead, both Noldor and Teleri, covered in blood and the mire of battle. He was shaking, from both the heat of battle and the horrible realization of what had happened. His blade fell from his hand, ringing hollowly on the fell ground, and he looked up at Glorfindel. "Dear gods, what have we done?" he asked, his voice quavering.

"What we had to do," Glorfindel answered hollowly.

He staggered from the battlefield, reaching the tree line just in time to empty the contents of his stomach upon the ground...

Erestor sat up in bed, sweat beading on his skin. He felt sick, sick and cold as the lingering memory of his greatest sin came back to haunt him. He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth in the middle of his too empty bed whispering words of penance to Mandos.

* * * *

"You escaped us once," the dark voice murmured. "You will not do so again..."

"Let go of me," Glorfindel growled. "I will sever your forked tongue from your foul mouth!"

"You will give me much pleasure, Noldo. Your pride has brought a fate worse than death for you, my beauty. You dared to defy me, dared to challenge me, and I will ruin you and ravage you in front of your friends' horrified eyes, then cast you out to be scorned by your kindred as one tainted..."

"Unclean dog! Only a coward would do this! You are unworthy of such boasting! Make them let go of me and you fight me alone!"

Glorfindel gasped as he sat up in his bed. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. "Nightmare..." he whispered to himself. "Damn that black devil!" he growled.

Memories of the fall of Eregion had just begun haunting him. For many, many years he had escaped the memory of Annatar's foul hands on him, he had escaped the sickening recollection of his empty voice and black breath. In the moments that Sauron had held him, the Dark Lord's blackness had reached inside his mind, caressing and molesting it, leaving a lasting impression upon his thoughts as his hands and mouth had sought to do upon his flesh. If not for the healing skill of Elrond, Glorfindel might have been lost to the darkness.

Anger and humiliation raged inside him and his head pounded. He slowly rose from the bed and entered the bath, splashing cool water upon his face. A sickening feeling lingered inside him, but it wasn't from the dream. He remembered how angry Erestor had looked earlier, the accusation in his eyes and his words. Perhaps his friend and lover was right, only a fool would challenge Sauron to single combat. Had he not learned from Fingolfin's fall?

He closed his eyes as he thought of Erestor, of his unrelenting gaze, of his pitch-black hair and ivory skin. Erestor: his friend, his nemesis, his conscience, and now his lover. Glorfindel felt that he bore much of the blame for Erestor being in Middle-earth, instead of enjoying a peaceful life in Aman. It was his fault that Erestor carried the curse of the Noldor upon his head. It was his fault that they were to toil so long in repentance for the foul deeds committed upon the Teleri. The blood of their kin stained them both and he wondered if that stain would ever be removed.

He wrapped his robe around him and exited his chamber, walking barefoot down the dark corridor toward his lover's door, heedless of the hour of the night. He reached Erestor's chambers and paused at the door. From inside, he heard Erestor's voice whispering softly, and he quickly reached for the handle but found the door locked.

"Erestor, it is me. Please, let me in..."

The soft sound of bare feet upon the floor was followed by the sound of the latch turning. As the door opened, he saw his lover looking pale and lost. He stepped inside and took Erestor into his arms.

"What troubles you?" he asked softly.

"I dreamt of the kinslaying," Erestor answered, his voice muffled by Glorfindel's robe.

Glorfindel swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed kisses to the top of Erestor's bowed head. "Oh, Erestor," he whispered. "You suffer so and it is my doing. That I could pay for both of us, I would gladly make such a sacrifice..."

"I took up the sword, I followed of my own will. You cannot bear this responsibility for me, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel guided him back to the bed and slid beneath the sheets with him. He caressed Erestor's hair and murmured loving words to his beloved friend. Erestor raised his head off the Elda's chest and looked into his eyes.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel. I am sorry I said such harsh words earlier. I do not believe you try to hurt those who care for you. But what you do frightens me..."

"You have been a soldier, Erestor. Why are you frightened by what you understand? You know what it is like..."

"That is precisely why I am frightened, Glorfindel. I do know what it is like. But unlike you, I loathed being a soldier..."

Glorfindel furrowed his brow as he looked at his lover in disbelief. In all the years he had known Erestor he had never suspected that he hated being a warrior. "What?"

"I hated it. Each time we went into battle, I could feel the bile rising in my throat, the sweat slicking my palms... I was always afraid; I took no pleasure in killing anything."

"Nor do I, but oftentimes killing must be done. I too feel fear when I go into battle, Erestor. It is that fear that keeps us alive..."

"I have never seen you look afraid... even as Gondolin fell, or as you grappled with Annatar, or at the Black Gate. Always you look fierce and determined, as if fear is something foreign to you. You are driven, and what drives you is unknown and frightening to me."

Glorfindel smiled wryly. "I may hide it, but fear is always there. I have to admit, after the fall with the Balrog, death was not so fearsome. But there are things worse than death and I suppose that is what I fear most. I am driven, by something I do not quite understand myself. Perhaps it is the desire for repentance, or for revenge, I am not sure which. I do fear the corruption of my soul, I fear losing my way, and I fear losing those I care most dearly for." Glorfindel furrowed his brow and took a deep breath before continuing. "Why did you not tell me this before, Erestor? All those years of military service made you miserable and you never said a word..."

"I was trying to do my duty as best I could," Erestor responded softly. "I did not want to disappoint you or Elrond..."

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to Erestor's eyelids. "You could never disappoint me, Erestor, nor would Elrond find fault with your feelings. He feels much the same way, I imagine..."

Erestor nodded and tucked his head beneath Glorfindel's chin. "We have spoken of it. While he was a skilled warrior and brilliant strategist, he never relished battle. How are we going to deal with this, Glorfindel? How will I come to grips with my fears?"

"You have handled them admirably all the years we have been friends, Erestor. Truly, I did not know how you felt until you told me just now. However, I would not have you keep such things to yourself from now on. I am willing to try to be more prudent if you are willing to try to trust me more."

"I will." Erestor sat up and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "What do you fear most, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel smiled and caressed Erestor's face. "Losing you..." he answered quietly. "I am a dull elf, Erestor. I do not know how to put what I feel into words. I know I say and do the wrong things, I know I am stubborn and unreasonable, hot headed and over sensitive; but I hold out hope that I can change and that you have the patience to see me through."

"I love those qualities in you, Glorfindel. I love your stubbornness, your determination, your bravery and honor. I love your honesty and..."

Glorfindel closed his eyes as his lips ghosted over Erestor's face. "And?"

"I love... I love..." Erestor's words faded into a needful sigh.

"This?"

"Yes... I love the way you touch me..."

Glorfindel shifted so that his form covered his lover's and he pressed a deep kiss to Erestor's lips. He felt his heartbeat increase as Erestor moaned softly into the kiss and caressed his back. There was no amount of lovemaking that could remove the weight on Erestor's soul, but if he could somehow diminish it, he would make love to him every hour of everyday for the rest of eternity.

* * * *

Legolas sighed as he sank into the soft mattress, grief for those who had fallen lay heavy upon his heart. He would never grow used to death and he supposed that was something to be thankful for. He folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander into the murky land of dreams...

He was running down the long, woven carpet toward the dais, his young, slender legs carrying him as fast as they could go. Behind him, Minuial, the scullery maid's daughter, shooting daggers into his back with her eyes and standing with her hands upon her hips; ahead of him, the safety and comfort of his father's arms.

"Father!" he shouted as he climbed the steps and clambered into his father's lap.

"Greenleaf, what is the matter?"

"Minuial tried to do something nasty to me..." he whispered.

Thranduil chuckled and stroked his young son's hair. "And what did Minuial try to do?"

"She tried to... to... kiss me!" He buried his face in the crook of his father's shoulder, shaking his head back and forth as if to wipe the offending kiss on his father's robes.

Thranduil bit his lip in order to restrain a laugh and patted Legolas on the back. "Legolas, what Minuial tried to do is not nasty. She was trying to show affection for you..."

"But it felt strange... and the others, they laughed."

"Oh, Greenleaf. The others laughed because they were envious. Minuial is a lovely young maid, they were envious that she chose you to kiss and not them."

He looked up into his father's sapphire eyes. "Really? Did others laugh at you when mother kissed you?"

"I was much older than you the first time your mother kissed me. The others did not laugh, but they were envious just the same."

"Does this mean I have to marry Minuial?" he asked with fear in his eyes.

Thranduil chuckled. "No, you are far too young to marry, Greenleaf." Thranduil lifted his son's chin and looked into his eyes. "You are a prince, Legolas. Your actions reflect on your house and on the throne of this realm. Others will look to you to be an example, and you must always act upon your own conscience, not upon the opinions of others. There will be times when this is difficult, but you must be strong. Do not be led by the cajoling of miscreants, be proud, be strong, and always do the right thing."

"But how will I know what the right thing is?"

"Search your heart, look inward, that is where the answer lies. Your mother and I raised you to be honest and brave; I know that if you trust your instincts you will not falter. You are my son, you carry my blood in your veins..."

"And mother's too..."

"Yes, and your mother's too. Make her proud, Legolas, in all that you do."

He nodded and leaned against his father's broad chest. "Yes, father. I promise to try to do better."

"I know you will. Now, go apologize to Minuial for being so rude, and try kissing her back..."

"Yes, father."

He climbed down from his father's lap and hurried back to the kitchens to apologize to Minuial...

A smile curved Legolas' lips as he drifted deep into reverie, memories of home and happier times wrapping him in warmth and his father's love and wisdom.

To be continued...

Summary: Legolas returns home with an escort. Glorfindel and Erestor share secrets. The twins and Legolas talk about the future.

The snows melted as spring finally came. Elrond put together a delegation to Lothlórien to bring Arwen home and to escort the prince back across the mountains to Mirkwood. Legolas' trip had been fruitful and relations between the realms of Mirkwood and Imladris were undoubtedly strengthened; Elrond learned of suspicious happenings east of the mountains, and Legolas learned of the history of the One Ring. Elrond gave his blessings to Legolas and asked him to carry the same to his father. There were dangerous times ahead for Thranduil and his people, as there would be for all good folk, and Elrond promised what help he could deliver.

There were no further orc intrusions on their borders and Elrond deemed the realm safe enough for Glorfindel to lead the delegation to Lórien. The delegation would also include the twins, Legolas and his party, and Erestor. The advisor was being sent to meet with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood as well as to carry important documents that were for their eyes only.

The morning of their departure was bright if not a bit cool. The ground was damp from melting snows and the streams and rivers were swollen with runoff. The going would be a bit slow, but the weather promised to hold for several days. Elrond placed his hands upon Legolas' shoulders and kissed each cheek.

"May your travels be safe and may we meet again," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond, for your hospitality, for your friendship, and for your tutelage. I will not soon forget it," Legolas answered. He stepped back and knelt upon one knee, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand, as was the custom of his people.

Elrond returned the gesture, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand. He then embraced his sons, admonishing them to be careful crossing the mountains. They embraced him in return and promised to return with Arwen safely in tow.

Erestor checked his knapsack once again, to be sure he had everything he needed. The weight of his sword and quiver felt strange to him; it had been many years since he had worn either one. He looked over his shoulder to see Glorfindel receiving last minute instructions from Elrond and then he mounted his horse, giving a soft rub to her neck as he settled upon her back. "It has been many years since we have undertaken such a journey, my friend," he said softly. "I trust you will enjoy it as much as I..." His mare nickered and tossed her head, and he smiled in response.

Glorfindel was the last to mount, swinging up onto Asfaloth's back with ease. He raised his hand and rode toward the gate followed by Erestor upon his chestnut mare. Legolas and his companions were next with Elladan and Elrohir bringing up the rear guard. Elrond waived his hand in farewell as he watched the small party ride through the gate and out into the valley of Imladris.

* * * *

As the westerning sun rose in the sky, the band of travelers cantered at an easy pace across the flat meadows of eastern Imladris. While they chatted amiably about the changing of the seasons, the upcoming mountain passage, and their arrival in Lothlórien, their eyes still scanned the trees and hills, ever vigilant for potential danger. They made for the High Pass; once reaching the Vales of the Anduin, Legolas and his party would ride east toward his home, and the rest would ride south, to Lothlórien. They would make camp at the base of the mountains that night, so that they could start the arduous mountain climb with fresh mounts the following morning. There was no avoiding an overnight camp upon the mountain, and it was that part of the journey that caused the most concern among the travelers.

Legolas raised his hands high in the air as they cantered into the forest, his fingertips caressing the birch leaves that hung over their heads from branches that entwined. He loved riding his horse through the forest; it was a rare occasion that he could ride so peacefully and just enjoy his surroundings. Of all the experiences of his trip to Imladris, that was one of the things he would miss most, the peacefulness. The group slowed to a jog as the trail narrowed and as they entered the thick birch grove, then they slowed further to a walk to rest and cool their mounts before allowing them to graze and drink.

A whistle that could easily be mistaken for a bird came from the trees and Elladan and Elrohir returned the call.

"Is that the border patrol?" Legolas asked quietly.

Elladan's full lips curved into a smile. "No, that was Estel. He is traveling with the Grey Company on return from Eriador. His life is about to change, though for the worse or better, I do not know."

Legolas cocked his head and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Erestor's eyes remained fixed on the trail in front of them as he answered in a solemn voice, "Estel is the son of Arathorn II, heir to Isildur and heir to the thrones of Arnor and Gondor..."

Legolas couldn't suppress the gasp of surprise that escaped him. "Isildur's heir?" he asked in a hushed whisper. "He lives? I thought the line of Númenor had been erased."

"So do many that would see it be so," Erestor continued. "We have harbored him as we have many of his line. Master Elrond raised him as a son, and soon it will be time to tell him of his heritage and of his destiny."

Glorfindel held up his hand to signal that they would be stopping for the night, and the group scouted a location to make camp.

The air cooled as the sun began to set, and the band of travelers busily prepared their camp. Legolas' companions gathered wood to build a fire while Elladan and Elrohir gave the area a once over to be sure it was safe. Legolas took the horses to the stream to drink while Erestor and Glorfindel began setting up camp.

As night fell, the twins took first watch and the rest of the travelers settled into their bedrolls. Legolas, unable to sleep, rose from his place by a large tree and joined the twins in their vigil. As he approached, he saw them, shoulders touching, fingers entwined, sharing a quiet moment of affection. He paused, not wanting to disturb their moment of peace, but they soon spied him and Elrohir beckoned him with a smile and a crook of his finger. He climbed up upon a large rock and sat down next to Elrohir.

"Our prince avoids the land of dreams?" Elrohir asked as he gently brushed Legolas' hair off his shoulder.

"It appears so," Legolas answered softly. "We have but a few more nights together and I did not wish to waste them in reverie."

Elladan slid over. "Come, jewel, sit between us," he purred in a low voice. Legolas did as instructed, taking a place in between the twins. "The Valar blessed your parents union," he whispered softly, "for having a son as beautiful as you could be nothing else but a blessing."

"So much loveliness contained in one being," Elrohir murmured against Legolas' ear. "Anor's light shines in your hair, Elbereth's in your eyes..."

"Skin as soft as the petals of a newly born rose, a voice as deep and haunting as the sea..." Elladan continued.

"If my parents were blessed in having me, then yours were doubly so. To be gifted with such brave, beautiful and wise sons would make any parent grateful to the Valar..." Legolas answered in a soft whisper.

"Oh, that we could love you as you should be loved," Elladan whispered. "I am selfish, I admit it. I would keep you with us, kiss you and hold you and make love to you always..."

"But your hearts belong to one another, and my own heart waits for its mate," Legolas answered. "As beautiful as you are, as much as I care for the both of you, we know this can never be."

"But we can still care for one another, enjoy one another, for now," Elrohir answered.

"For now," Legolas replied.

Elladan turned Legolas' face toward him and kissed him deeply. Legolas opened to the kiss, allowing Elladan to taste him, their lips and tongues moving against one another. Elrohir slid closer, his arms wrapping around Legolas' waist, his hands moving over the soft suede of his tunic. He pulled Legolas' flaxen hair to the side, his lips moving over the flesh of his neck as his hands found their way inside the prince's tunic. Unable to do more than kiss and touch one another, the twins and Legolas spent their watch tasting of one another's mouths and flesh, and memorizing the feel of one another's bodies.

* * * *

Erestor awoke sometime in the middle of the night. Legolas' companions took up watch and he saw the prince lying close to Elladan and Elrohir. They huddled close to one another; the prince's head on Elrohir's shoulder, Elladan curled against Legolas' back. It looked so innocent, almost like three elflings snuggling together. Erestor suspected that the twins' relationship with Legolas was quite different from that of platonic friends, but it did not bother him. If it were not for the warmth of Glorfindel's body pressing against his back, he might be envious.

He turned in Glorfindel's arms and gazed at his sleeping lover. Their road had been a rocky one; learning to live together as lovers was not as easy as he had hoped. But despite the arguments and accusations, despite the heated words and angry glances, they still ended up in one another's arms. A smile curved his lips as he gazed at his sleeping lion. Glorfindel looked so innocent in his sleep; his eyes were glazed with reverie, his lips barely parted. Erestor's heart swelled with emotion as he gazed upon his Glorfindel, his dearest friend, the elf who held his heart.

In the months since they began their relationship, Erestor had fallen deeply in love with Glorfindel, though he had not been brave enough to admit it. While neither had said so explicitly, they had forgone taking other lovers, and were faithful to one another. Erestor absently wondered how long this love had been brewing in his heart, for he fell quickly after sharing Glorfindel's bed. A love as deep and all encompassing as the one he felt did not appear overnight; this was no fleeting wave of emotion, no brief obsession. Glorfindel was the one he wanted to live his life with; he wanted them to be together always.

He caressed Glorfindel's face, his fingertips gently exploring his lover's cheekbones, his strong jaw, his aristocratic nose and soft, perfect lips. A smile curved his lips as he watched Glorfindel smile and felt his lover draw him closer. He blinked sleepily as he gazed upon his lover's face, reverie slowly taking him again as the vision of his lover faded.

* * * *

Erestor felt Glorfindel stir against him and he opened his eyes. "Where are you going?" he whispered sleepily.

"I am relieving Legolas' friends of their watch. It is nearly dawn, go back to sleep," Glorfindel answered.

"No, no... I will get up with you." Erestor untangled himself from his bedroll.

"No, sleep, lover... I can take watch alone."

"I want to do it," Erestor answered. "Besides, I will not sleep well without you here."

Glorfindel smiled. "Very well. Come then, let us watch Anor as she rises..." He held out his hand to Erestor and tugged him from the ground.

Erestor stretched and groaned sleepily, then smiled at his beloved. "I cannot remember the last time I slept upon the ground."

Glorfindel quietly chuckled and gently patted his lover's cheek. "You are spoiled, counselor. Too much time indoors behind a desk, not enough in the woods to which we all belong."

Erestor retrieved two pieces of lembas and their flagons of water. "You always were a child of Oromë, Glorfindel," he said with a smile. "Born to be a hunter and a warrior..."

"And you a child of Aulë, lover of knowledge and all good things that come from it. The world is a better place because of you and those like you, Erestor."

Erestor smiled and followed Glorfindel to where Legolas' companions sat. His lover touched them lightly upon the shoulders and nodded, then smiled as they retired to their bedrolls for a few hours rest before continuing on their journey. He sat down beside Glorfindel and handed him his flagon of water and a piece of lembas.

"Tell me, lover, what was that look in your eye earlier, when I said you were a child of Oromë?"

Glorfindel flushed slightly and looked at the ground. "What look?"

Erestor bumped him with his shoulder. "That look, the one you have right now. Why does the mention of Oromë's name cause you look so wistful and blush so prettily?"

"I do not blush prettily," Glorfindel groused playfully.

"Oh, but you most certainly do," Erestor insisted. "It is not quite as lovely as when you are flushed with passion, but it is very nearly so."

"But I pale in comparison to you, my lover, whose skin warms and glows like coals in the fire. Passion transforms you, Erestor..."

"You are changing the subject."

"Yes, I am."

"I thought we were to have no secrets from one another."

"I will tell you mine if you tell me yours..."

"I have no secrets."

"Oh, but you do. You have never told me who deflowered you in your youth, despite my prodding throughout the years."

"Really, Glorfindel. What is this youthful fascination with the identity of the one who took my innocence?"

"Took, or was it willingly given?"

"Alright, given... still you have not answered my question."

"I will, if you will answer mine first."

Erestor blushed and took a drink of water. "Fine. My first lover was Fingon, if you must know."

Glorfindel's eyes widened. "Fingon? Truly? My, Erestor, you do know how to choose them..."

"I will have you know, he chose me. It was not long before we departed Aman. Really, it was all your doing. I was practicing with my sword before meeting with you; Fingon was impressed with my skill and asked me who my teacher was. Before long, we became closer and several weeks later he took me into the woods where he became my second teacher."

"And how long did you share his bed?"

"Until shortly after arriving in Middle-earth. Now, it is your turn. Who was your first lover and why do you blush so when I mention... Oh, Valar..." Erestor's eyes widened. "Do not tell me... No, it could not be... Not Oromë?"

Glorfindel nodded. "No! Not Oromë, though he did teach me many things. He rode through my parents' woods when I was an elfling. I would often sneak out of my bedroom window at night and climb into the trees to watch his passing. When I was old enough and brave enough, I asked him to teach me how to ride and hunt. He found my boldness charming and accepted. He was my friend for many long years. Oromë is the one who taught me warcraft, who taught me how to select, breed, and train horses, and he is the one who taught me what it meant to be a warrior."

"He must have loved you in some way..."

"We are all loved by them, Erestor. However, long years on this earth dull that remembrance. My father told me tales of the journey from Cuiviénen, how they followed Oromë's horn, how Ulmo looked after them, and how Aulë taught the Noldor when they arrived. They love us surely, even after all we have done, as does Eru."

"Well, if not Oromë, then who?" Erestor asked again.

Glorfindel shrugged and answered quietly, "Fëanor."

"Fëanor?" Erestor repeated in surprise. "This explains many things. Why did you not tell me this when we were younger?"

"It is hardly a thing that many I knew would have understood, Erestor. Our kindred did not look upon Fëanor with the kindest eyes."

"That might have something to do with the disdain he held for our lord and lady..."

"Admittedly, Fëanor had a ferocious temper, and oftentimes his tongue would be unleashed before he thought carefully about his words. He was a complicated one..."

"What that must have been like," Erestor said softly. "To be loved so fiery an elf..."

"I would not call it love, exactly," Glorfindel said quietly. "It was desire, nothing more..."

"My relationship with Fingon was much the same," Erestor answered. "He was kind and a good lover, but he was not in love with me."

"He was a good elf; he is missed," Glorfindel answered wistfully.

"Aye, as all are who fell before us. I wonder..."

"What?"

"How different things would have been had Fëanor not been so consumed by his hatred for Morgoth. I wonder what the world would be like had he not sworn the Oath and pursued Morgoth to his own death."

"So much changed because of that," Glorfindel answered quietly. "We would probably still be in Aman and this world would be covered in darkness."

"To be Manwë would be a fearful thing. To know the fate of all living things, what a burden that must be."

"Thankfully, all we need to worry about is each other and this place we call home. It is the hope that comes from the unknown that makes life worth living. Do you not think so?"

Erestor smiled and laid his head on Glorfindel's shoulder. "Aye, I do indeed."

To be continued...

Summary: Legolas slays some orcs; our heroes are ambushed; Thranduil comes to the rescue.

The journey over the mountains was arduous; the band of travelers had to be on guard every moment. As Elladan had observed, the end of the watchful peace was at hand and orcs prowled the mountain passes. It was just dawn as they began their descent on the High Pass and their horses picked their way carefully; the pass was primarily shale and the trail itself was unstable. Amid the sound of sliding rock and the soft breathing of their mounts, Legolas' ears picked up a familiar and unwelcome sound. It was not much later that both Glorfindel and Erestor heard it as well.

Before the warning could cross his lips, his bow was drawn and a green fletched arrow was slicing the air. By the time Glorfindel, Erestor and the twins had their swords drawn, Legolas and his companions felled three orc scouts. The horses shied away from the falling carcasses as they thudded dully upon the ground. Glorfindel quickly dismounted, as did the twins, and inspected the bodies.

"Scouts," Glorfindel growled.

"There were only three," Legolas answered.

"Are you sure?" Elladan asked.

"Yes."

"They are large," Erestor remarked, his brow furrowed. "Larger than those we encountered in Eregion or on the Morannon."

"They look just like the ones that..." Elrohir closed his eyes, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"I thought we killed them all," Elladan answered angrily.

"That would be impossible," Glorfindel replied. "Unless we were to invade the orc holds and burn them all out."

"Too dangerous," Erestor added. "There are more yrch than elven warriors."

"Come, we cannot linger here, we must make for the Vales of Anduin. If we encounter more, I want to be on ground we can fight upon."

As Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth, Legolas rode up and clasped his forearm. "These are the same yrch that have been prowling the Vales of the Anduin. They search the valley but do not enter the wood – they are looking for something."

Erestor furrowed his brow and closed his eyes. "I have an ill feeling that I know what they seek."

"We must hurry," Glorfindel insisted. "Daylight is waning."

They scrambled down the mountainside, their horses slipping and skidding in the loose shale. Upon reaching the valley floor, Glorfindel turned to Legolas.

"Ride fast for the cover of the trees, we will keep to the foothills as we make for Lórien."

Legolas nodded. "Stay in the forest. Do not pause needlessly, and make no sound..."

Glorfindel nodded and clasped Legolas' shoulder. "Be safe, young prince."

"You as well," Legolas replied with a smile.

Legolas' companions waited at the edge of the wood, their horses facing east toward the entrance to the elf path that would take them home. Elladan and Elrohir each rode forward to say goodbye to their friend.

"Be careful," Elrohir admonished.

"Do not stop until you are home," Elladan added. "Something sits ill upon me, I fear that a great evil is lurking here."

Legolas smiled sadly and replied. "It is an evil I have lived with everyday of my life." He embraced his friends one at a time. "Ride fast, my friends, do not look back, do not stop until you reach safety."

As they broke their embrace, Legolas nodded to his companions and the twins watched as the horses launched into a fast gallop. Glorfindel began to signal for them to move on, but Elladan hesitated.

"I want to wait until he reaches the trees..."

Elrohir placed his hand upon his twin's arm. "What is it, Elladan?"

"Something is not right here," he answered softly.

When they were halfway across the grasslands separating the wood from the mountains, orcs began springing up out of holes in the ground, blocking Legolas' path. They turned to find more behind them, and all three elves quickly drew their bows and began firing.

"Legolas!" Elladan cried, and without another word, both he and Elrohir charged from the trees, swords drawn.

Glorfindel and Erestor followed quickly, Erestor drawing his bow and Glorfindel his sword. They were outnumbered seven to thirty. Upon seeing the approaching elves, the orcs faltered. Too many of their kind had witnessed the fury of the Sons of Elrond and Glorfindel's skill was well remembered also. As the battle ensued, a great cry came from the trees. Glorfindel looked up to see a regiment of elves, some twenty in number, come running and riding out of the wood; the King of Mirkwood himself led them. Thranduil held aloft a massive spear, carved out of the strongest Ash and notched with a count of his fallen prey. Soon, arrows were raining down around them, each one striking its target with flawless accuracy and the orcs were soon retreating, heading back for the hills from which they came. However, the determination and reawakened fury of Elladan and Elrohir would not be satisfied with a mere victory. The twins made pursuit, followed by Legolas and his guard, as they chased down and killed what was left of those who had ambushed them.

Glorfindel nodded to Thranduil as the king galloped past him on his massive black stallion. With a growl born of both fury and satisfaction, Thranduil snatched his spear from the body of a fallen orc and hurled it at the captain of the retreating orcs. Erestor pulled his sword from the body of an orc with distaste and turned to see Glorfindel removing the head of the last orc standing in their vicinity. His chest heaved for breath and he felt the familiar dizzying sensation that he had always felt after battle. He closed his eyes and used his sword to steady himself.

"Erestor?"

His lover's soothing voice grounded him again and he opened his eyes to look upon Glorfindel. His beloved was splattered with black orc blood, his garments and hair soiled from battle. Glorfindel's upper lip still quivered from the ferocious sneer that would transform his mouth as he killed and his eyes still glowed dark with fire and fury. 'What a sight to behold...' he thought to himself as he looked upon his lover, 'it is the last thing one of these beasts sees – pity they do not see it as I do, both beautiful and frightening...'

"Erestor, are you all right?"

"Yes," he answered softly. "I am well."

Glorfindel caressed his lover's cheek, feeling Erestor's cold skin gradually warm beneath his touch. He thought to himself that Erestor looked like the very image of death in battle – raven hair, pale skin, eyes that turned nearly black with fury. 'He may hate it, but hate it or no, there are few who can equal him,' he thought to himself.

Glorfindel placed his hand upon the back of Erestor's neck as his beloved rested his forehead upon his shoulder. Soon the twins were returning, led by Thranduil and Legolas. The king clasped his son's head to his shoulder as they rode side by side, their horses rubbing and bumping up against one another. Glorfindel remembered his own father in that moment, how in his youth, one touch from his father's hand could make all the world seem right.

Erestor righted himself as Thranduil approached, and he and Glorfindel bowed their heads and covered their hearts with their hands.

"My lord," Glorfindel began. "We are most grateful for your assistance."

Thranduil smiled. "And I am most grateful that you rode to my son's aid, rather than leave him to his fate."

"We could never have done that, my lord," Elladan insisted.

Thranduil smiled and nodded. "I am in your debt because of it. But come, it is not safe to linger here. We must return to the woods quickly; there will be more yrch to replace the ones we killed."

"Begging your pardon, my lord, but we make for the Golden Wood. We are on errand at the behest of Master Elrond," Erestor answered.

"Not this day, my friend," Thranduil replied. "The Vales are not safe and night comes quickly. You will spend the night in my camp, let your horses recover their strength, and set out in the morning. I will provide escort through my woods as far as Sîr Ninglor*; the yrch have not yet ventured south of that point. From there, your journey to Lórien will be relatively safe."

"Thank you, my lord," Glorfindel answered. "We are grateful for your assistance."

Thranduil answered, "It is the least I can do in exchange for your protection and escort of my son."

Glorfindel and company followed Thranduil into the darkness of Mirkwood.

* * * *

Glorfindel leaned against the trunk of a massive oak, watching Thranduil from the shadows. The king sat upon a fallen log near the fire, carving notches in the staff of his spear with his long knife. It was a formidable weapon wielded by a formidable elf. Taller than the king, who was taller than average himself, its shaft was made of Ash and was worn from years of combat. The spear tip gleamed in the firelight, having been freshly oiled. The long staff was thick; on the base end was a braided leather grip with eagles' feathers secured by long strips of leather. Midway down the length of the staff was another braided leather grip; on each side of the grip, the shaft was notched. One look told the observer that the weapon had brought down many foes. Glorfindel recognized the weapon as the one Oropher had carried with him upon the Morannon. Legend had it that the Dwarves of Belegost had made the spear for Mablung and it had passed to his kinsman Oropher upon his death. He remembered Thranduil going into the Dead Marshes to seek his father's slain body and only returning with the spear.

"You remember this weapon, do you not?" Thranduil asked his watcher.

"Aye," Glorfindel answered.

"It served my father well for many years, though it did not save his life. It has served me since he fell and it will serve Legolas after I am gone from this world."

"You plan on dying, my lord?

A wry grin curved Thranduil's lips. "One never knows what fate awaits them, Glorfindel. Only Manwë knows the end to all things. Of course, you know this yourself, being the only one to travel the path in both directions."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement and approached Thranduil, sitting beside him near the fire. "Tell me, my lord, have you never thought of sailing West?"

"Nay. My home is here, it is where I was born and where I will die, should that day come."

"And Legolas?"

"That decision is up to my son. For now, he seems content to remain and fight to protect our home." Thranduil looked up at Glorfindel. "We both know that Men cannot save it alone, nor do they have the wisdom to reject the seduction of the Dark Lord... Isildur proved that."

Glorfindel nodded.

"My father died protecting this world from the Dark Lord's terror, and his death was for naught. The One Ring was not destroyed and as long as it exists, danger will ever be present. I will not abandon my home to his malice, I will not run from a fight."

Glorfindel smiled grimly. "Like you, I do not know how to run. I often wish I could just ride West, board the ship and return to the land of my birth. But I have fought upon these grounds nearly my whole life; I know not how to run."

Thranduil nodded and passed a cup of tea to Glorfindel. "You are a warrior after my own heart, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled and nodded, accepting the cup with a bow of his head.

* * * *

Erestor lay upon his bedroll staring into the darkness as he listened to Glorfindel speaking with Thranduil. A pang of envy pierced his heart. He wished he could bond with Glorfindel on that level, that he could understand and share his passion for his chosen duty. Thranduil and Glorfindel were two of a kind, fearless, brave and honorable. What was he but a staid advisor and librarian? He could never be like the beautiful and bold Thranduil; he would never be a fierce warrior. His was a world of parchment and ink, of books and tapestries, not swords and bows. He rolled to his back and stared up into the trees, trying to banish these thoughts from his mind. As he gazed into the darkness, he could make out a vague shape high up in the branches. He squinted and tried to pierce the veil of darkness with his sight. He sat up on his elbows and looked closer; his eyes widened, for the sight before him was something he could never have imagined.

He heard one of Thranduil's sentinels cry out, "Ungol!" and he covered his face with his arm as branches began raining down upon him.

To be continued...

*Sîr Ninglor = Elvish name for Gladden River

Summary: A battle amongst the trees; a detour to Thranduil's caves; Glorfindel and Erestor have nightmarish visions.

"Erestor!" Glorfindel cried out, as he watched a massive spider drop out of the trees and land crouched over his lover.

Thranduil was already on his feet, as were the rest of the Mirkwood Elves. Elladan and Elrohir were scrambling for their weapons and Legolas was already firing arrows at the beasts that converged upon them. A pack of spiders, some twelve in number came upon their camp. The leader, a large female was poised over Erestor, and Thranduil was engaged in combat with a smaller male. Glorfindel lunged for his sword but a small female intercepted his path.

Even in the dim firelight, the creature was the most hideous thing he had ever beheld. Its skin was a pallid, leathery gray; wiry black hairs jutted out from its bony legs, and its multiple eyes were black as pitch. The creature's mandibles gaped open before snapping shut with a loud clack, and it poked at him with its front legs. He danced just out of reach of the spider's legs trying to find away to get to his weapon and then get to Erestor, who was fending off the largest of the bunch with a large branch.

Erestor grunted as he shoved a branch nearly as big around as his head into the spider's gaping mouth. He rolled to his stomach and snatched his sword as he heard the thick branch snap in half as easily as a twig. He had just enough time to roll to his back before the beast pinned him to the ground with one of her forelegs, the talon at the end piercing his tunic and sticking him to the spot. He struggled to free himself as he tried to fend off the female's blows. Her mandibles snapped shut just inches from his face and he drove his sword into her stomach. As her blood began to flow, she uttered a scream the likes of which he had only heard once before. It was the scream of a being in torment; it sounded like the cry of the Nazgûl.

A whooshing sound reached Glorfindel's ear and he saw Thranduil's spear pass by his head and lodge into the spider's open mouth. This gave him time to reach his sword and he heard the king cry out, "Stab her just behind the eyes or just under the jaw! You have to pierce the brain!" He leapt upon her back and drove his sword deep into the back of her head and she collapsed beneath him. He withdrew his sword in time to see a male rearing up to strike at Thranduil and he quickly threw his sword, striking the beast below the jaw. Thranduil leapt backward as the beast collapsed and shuddered before him. He spied the jeweled hilt of Glorfindel's sword and grasped it, wrenching it free of the spider's body, then turned as Glorfindel tossed him his spear and he, in turn, threw the Elda his sword. Thranduil saw Erestor pinned beneath the body of the massive female and called to his son.

"Legolas! Help, now!"

Legolas pulled his knives from the head of the small female he sat astride and ran toward the sound of his father's voice.

The camp was in chaos, elves were being wounded, spiders slaughtered, but all Erestor could think of was getting loose of this creature's grasp. He growled in anger as he struggled and slashed at the spider's advancing jaws. Suddenly, she reared up and he was freed. He rolled to his side to regain his feet when he felt something pierce his flesh.

First, his limbs went numb and his arms and legs buckled. The numbness spread up his spine and he felt his body growing cold. He tried to cry out, tried to call for help but his voice failed him. Finally, he was paralyzed, unable to speak or move, unable to even close his eyes. He watched as battle raged around him, helpless to do a single thing.

"Erestor!" Glorfindel cried as he charged the female. He watched her stinger pierce his lover's flesh, then saw her turn to protect her prey from being taken. Her first blow landed across his jaw, the sharp talan slicing open the flesh upon his cheek. A dull snapping sound echoed in his head as his vision began to fade to white. Her second blow came down hard upon his shoulder driving him to the ground and knocking his sword loose from his grip. He vaguely registered her screams as both Thranduil and Legolas fell upon her and he collapsed, his body falling across that of his beloved.

* * * *

"Faster!" Elladan encouraged Asfaloth as they raced through the dark forest. Now and again Ithil's light would break through the canopy and he would catch glimpses of the narrow elf path. All he could see ahead of him was Thranduil and Glorfindel's hair flashing in the dim light. Behind him, he heard the sounds of Legolas and Elrohir and the horses of Thranduil's guard as they charged through the night. "Hold on, Erestor," he murmured into his tutor's ear as he clasped him tight around the waist. He could feel Erestor's blood oozing onto his leggings and he whispered a prayer to Mandos that it was not his tutor's time. Asfaloth surged beneath him, as if somehow the horse grew stronger and faster with each stride they took.

Thranduil held Glorfindel tight about the waist; his stallion flying over the darkened ground, Asfaloth following close behind bearing Elladan and Erestor, unwilling to be parted from his master. Thranduil was growing weary; focusing his power upon both Glorfindel and Erestor and giving power to the Elda's stallion was beginning to drain him. "Not much longer now, my friend," he whispered to Glorfindel. "I will not have you die so close to aid." They rounded a bend in the path and he caught sight of the caves. His powers enabled them to make what was normally a two-day ride in just hours. Anor was rising and he saw the gates opening. The palace guard were calling for the healers and rushing to their aid.

"I cannot see them!" Elrohir cried.

"They are up ahead, not much further now, Elrohir. Do not despair!" Legolas answered.

Elrohir had not ridden so hard since he bore his mother back to his father. His mare was being pushed to her limit, as was Legolas' horse. Some distance behind them, Thranduil's guard was riding hard to keep up, but the power of the king made the lead riders impossible to catch.

Thranduil's stallion slid to a stop in the courtyard and the healing staff rushed forward to take the unconscious Glorfindel from his arms. They hurried away; carrying the Elda on a litter as Elladan cantered across the bridge and into the courtyard. Thranduil quickly took Erestor from Elladan and ran into the caves with Elladan close behind. The stable hands attended to the king's stallion and an exhausted Asfaloth, leading them to the stables for water and care.

It was almost midday before Legolas and the rest reached the caves. Both he and Elrohir dismounted and hurried into the caves as their horses were tended to.

"How did they arrive so soon?" Elrohir asked breathlessly as he followed Legolas through the winding corridors.

"My father's stallion is one of the Mearas," Legolas answered quietly. "And father has the ability to lend his strength to elf and beast alike. That is how Asfaloth was able to keep pace." Legolas slowed his pace. "Here, the healers' chambers."

They entered a large room lined with beds. On the far side was the apothecary table, where the master healer prepared remedies. A long stone slab stood near by with a smaller table containing healing implements. Glorfindel lay upon it, the gaping wound on his face being stitched and poulticed by Elladan. Erestor lay upon one of the beds, the master healer was draining the wound in his side and they were placing leaves of athelas upon his tongue. Thranduil stood beside Erestor's bed, watching the healer go about his work. Elrohir rushed to Elladan's side.

"Will he be all right?"

Elladan nodded grimly as he tied off the last suture. "I do not know. His jaw his broken and the laceration was tainted with poison from the ungol's claw. He is already feverish. It depends upon how well the athelas works and how strong he is."

"He is strong, we both know this. What about Erestor?"

"I have no experience with wounds of this kind. I do not know..."

Elrohir crossed the room to watch the healer. "Can I help? My father trained us in the healing arts..."

The healer looked up at Elrohir and answered, "The wound is drained, the poultice and athelas will work against the poison. However, he is already feverish; the visions will begin soon. We must restrain both of them so that they do not injure themselves or anyone else."

Elrohir nodded and began securing Erestor's arms and legs to the bedposts. Upon finishing, he helped Elladan secure Glorfindel as well. The tremors were already beginning and both elves began mumbling fitfully in their fevered state.

Thranduil leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Father?" Legolas asked softly as he placed a hand upon his father's shoulder. "Come, you must bathe and rest, you are weak."

"I would not leave them," Thranduil murmured. "It is my fault that they lay here..."

"No, father. You could not have foreseen this. Ungol have never been seen in that part of the wood. You could not have known... If they had continued, they surely would have been ambushed by yrch on the road to Lórien." He tugged upon his father's sleeve. "Come, father. Come rest before you succumb to exhaustion." He led his father away quietly as Elladan and Elrohir kept vigil over their tutors.

* * * *

When the visions began, they came with frightening clarity. He was in a dark chamber, the floor, walls, ceiling, all bare stone. The floor was slick and glistened with a dark substance; with horror, Erestor realized it was blood. Torches blazed in the darkness, the smell of smoke and soot and foul things beyond his imagining permeated his nostrils. He was being held by men who had their faces covered and he recognized them as Easterlings. They held him tight; his ankles and wrists were shackled and he had a thick iron collar around his neck. He struggled against them, cursing them in his native language as they dragged him down a long corridor. He was brought into a large chamber where all manner of torture devices hung upon the walls and from the ceiling. He screamed in agony and horror as he saw Glorfindel shackled to the wall, his nude body covered in blood and lacerations. The Dark Lord himself, in his guise as Annatar smiled hideously as he drew his finger through Glorfindel's blood and sucked it off his fingers.

He was struggling to get to Glorfindel, screaming his name as Annatar molested his beaten and abused body. He could see his beloved was still breathing, still alive despite the horrible torture that had been wrought against him...

* * * *

Glorfindel was straining with every ounce of his strength to free himself from his bonds. He was filled with rage and pain, unable to tear his eyes from Erestor's wounded and bloodied body. He cursed Annatar, promising him a death more horrible than anyone could imagine, when suddenly the vision dissipated like a cloud of smoke. In place of the horrible scene was nothingness: cool, calm, serene peace. He wept with relief and whispered Erestor's name. Though he could not see his lover, he heard his voice and somehow felt his comforting presence. He allowed himself to drift into the land of dreams, his lover's voice echoing in his mind.

* * * *

Glorfindel was sedated so he could not further injure his jaw. Elladan heard him moaning softly in his induced sleep and saw tears trickle from his eyes. Erestor was begging to thrash violently, cursing in Quenya. Elrohir was thankful the elves present couldn't understand the old language for his words would have caused even the most experienced elf to gasp in horror.

"How long do these visions last?" Elrohir asked, having to nearly shout over Erestor's delusional curses.

"The athelas should begin to work soon," the healer answered.

Elrohir, the master healer, and two of his assistants tried to hold Erestor down. The advisor let out a cry so terrible, so heart wrenching that every elf in the room blanched upon hearing it. He strained violently against his bonds and Elladan approached the bed just as Erestor dislocated his shoulder in the struggle.

"Untie him quick!" Elladan shouted.

The healer's assistants quickly untied the arm as Elladan, Elrohir, and the master healer struggled to hold him down. Suddenly, as quickly as it came on, the violent attack subsided and Erestor lay moaning in a pool of his own sweat. Elrohir and Elladan set Erestor's shoulder, hearing him utter no more than a whimper of pain, then bound the arm to his side.

The master healer wiped his brow and quietly said, "The worst is over now. All that is left is to wait."

Elrohir flopped onto a stool next to Erestor's bed, laying his head upon the counselor's hip. He fought not to cry, chewing his lower lip as he breathed deeply. This was too much like what happened to his mother.

Elladan swallowed and took a deep breath, fighting back his own tears. He busied himself by checking on Glorfindel, who had also calmed.

* * * *

Elrohir jumped as he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He sat up and looked into Legolas' eyes.

"Come, my friend," Legolas said softly. "You are beyond exhaustion, you must rest. They will be sleeping for hours yet, rest now so that you can be here for them when they wake." He tugged upon Elrohir's hand and pulled him to his feet.

Elrohir looked at Elladan. He had not seen his twin look so weary in many, many years. Elladan placed an arm around his waist and they followed Legolas from the healer's quarters.

* * * *

Erestor gasped as his eyes opened; he blinked rapidly and looked around him. He did not recognize his surroundings and when he tried to move, a bright pain flared in his right shoulder.

"You are awake so soon..."

He looked up at a young, silver-haired elf dressed in a plain green tunic with an apron.

"Try not to move your arm. You injured your shoulder and it needs time to heal."

"Where am I?" Erestor asked groggily.

"You are in the caves of King Thranduil. You and your friend were brought here when you were injured."

"Glorfindel?" Erestor said nervously.

"Right there." The young elf pointed. "It looks worse than it is, really. He will be just fine in a few days."

Glorfindel's face and shoulder were bandaged and he was sleeping deeply.

"What happened?" Erestor asked quietly, feeling a pain in his side as well.

"Your camp was attacked by ungol," the young healer answered. "You and your friend were injured in the battle and the king brought you here. No one is more adept at healing wounds from ungol than the healers of Mirkwood, my friend."

Erestor shuddered as he remembered the spider attack. "May I sit up for awhile?" he asked quietly.

"Certainly," the young elf answered. "I will have some broth brought to you as well as some tea." He gathered some pillows and helped Erestor sit up as he propped the pillows up behind him.

"Thank you," Erestor answered. As the healer began to leave he reached out and caught his wrist. "May I ask two more things of you?"

"Of course," the young elf answered.

"Would it be possible to slide my bed closer so that I can better see and touch my friend?"

The healer smiled. "Absolutely."

"And I would like to speak with the Sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, if I may."

"I will send for them," the young healer answered.

Erestor watched the healer speak quietly with a young female, no more than twenty-five years of age. She hurried out of the healer's quarters and the young elf attending him returned with two males more his own age. They moved the table that sat between his bed and Glorfindel's, then slid his bed over so that he was lying right next to his beloved. He smiled and thanked them, then reached down and picked up Glorfindel's limp hand. A smile curved his lips as the warrior's fingers weakly closed around his own.

"Rest, my love," he murmured. "I will be here when you wake."

To be continued...

Summary: Thranduil pays a visit to his injured guests; Elladan overhears a conversation and plays a dangerous game; Legolas and Thranduil talk.

Erestor drank his vegetable broth and herbal tea as instructed, then lay down on his uninjured side so that he could look at Glorfindel. He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that lurked at the perimeter of his consciousness. It was like a bad dream he could not remember but one that still haunted him. He remembered the battle with the spiders, he remembered being paralyzed, he even remembered seeing Glorfindel get wounded. However, he could remember nothing after that; instead of memories, he was left with an unpleasant feeling that he could not quite put his finger on.

He was lost in his thoughts and did not hear Thranduil enter; his first indication of the king's presence was when he felt the bed dip beneath Thranduil's weight. He rolled to his back and immediately tried to sit up. "My lord..."

Thranduil put up his hand. "No, stay where you are; you need to rest." He cocked his head as he looked upon Glorfindel. "Has he woken?"

"No, my lord," Erestor answered quietly.

"'Tis better that he rest; the both of you were injured quite badly. How are you feeling, Counselor?"

"Better..." Erestor answered. "Weary, but I am starting to feel better. Your healers are experts at their craft, my lord."

Thranduil smiled and nodded. "Aye, unfortunately they have had far too much practice as of late." Thranduil placed his hand upon Erestor's leg. "The healers said you had the visions..."

Erestor frowned and realized that the visions Thranduil talked about were what accounted for the nagging feelings he was having. "I think so," he answered. "But I am not altogether sure."

"I wanted to talk to you about them, so that when they return you will not be frightened and confused."

Erestor struggled to sit up and Thranduil helped him, propping pillows up behind his back. "I cannot remember them," he said softly. "Are you telling me that they will return?"

"They will not so much return as be remembered. You will not feel them with the same intensity, but you will remember what you saw."

"Are you certain, my lord?"

Thranduil looked at the floor. "Quite."

"Are they from the ungol's poison?"

"Aye."

"And you have experienced these yourself?"

"Aye, I have. I have twice been poisoned, and memories of the visions from both injuries remain." Thranduil took a deep breath and began, "The first time I was injured was not too long before we left for Mordor. My patrol was caught unawares. That time the dreams were about my beloved and about my father. I saw the Dark Lord doing unmentionable and horrible things to them. Of course, my father died not too long after that, and while his death was not as horrible as my dream, I worry for his soul." He paused then continued, "The second time was several years after we returned from Mordor. I married my beloved and she gave birth to Legolas for me. He was just an elfling at the time, having just found his legs and delighting in running everywhere he went..." A wistful smile curved his lips then he continued, "Those were the most horrible of the visions. The black beast raped my wife and mutilated and tortured my young son... Of course, it is all lies; that is how his black magic works. The venom enters your body and works upon your mind, bringing all your worst fears to life. It is not enough that when the ungol capture their prey they keep them alive even as they feast on their flesh, but the Dark Lord makes sure that death is slow in coming and the road to it is the most horrible you can imagine."

Erestor swallowed as he listened to this fearsome tale, and he found himself reaching out and taking Thranduil's hand in his own.

"When you first reawaken, you do not remember these fearsome visions. But sometime later they will return, as flashes at first, then eventually in their entirety. My healers, for all their skill, have not found away to purge the visions from the minds of the ungol's victims."

Erestor nodded. "I understand. How do you live with them, my lord?"

"You remind yourself that they are just bad dreams planted in your imagination by the Dark Lord's magic, you take a deep breath and you go on."

"What happened to your wife, my lord? If you do not mind me asking..."

Thranduil smiled sadly. "Too much had changed though neither of us wished to see it. When I returned from the war, we married quickly, for I had been gone for so long. I had changed; I was not the same young prince she had fallen for, though she did not want to see it. After Legolas was born, I became obsessed with the protection of our home. I rode ceaselessly in the woods, and she slept alone in our bed. She wanted to sail to Aman, she thought it would bring both of us peace; but I would not go. I refused to abandon Greenwood. She left when Legolas was twenty years of age. She left him here because she could see that no matter how much he would miss her, or she would miss him, he and I needed one another more. Believe me, there are days I wish she had taken him, that he was now strolling the beaches of Aman with his beloved, that he had grown up knowing peace and tranquility instead of war and violence. I have tried to send him, but he will not leave. He loves this wood as I do, and is determined to fight like I have to protect it."

Erestor smiled sadly. "He is a valiant prince, my lord. He takes great pride in you and his home, and he serves both with much honor. My Lord Elrond was most impressed not only with his skills as a warrior, but with his ability as a statesman and leader. He was most taken with your son."

Thranduil smiled proudly. "It gladdens my heart to hear this, Erestor. I am most proud of Legolas." He patted Erestor's hand. "Now, get some rest. If the visions return and keep you from resting, the healer can give you a tonic to quiet them."

"Thank you, my lord," Erestor said quietly.

Thranduil nodded then stood, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand before turning and exiting the healer's chambers.

* * * *

Elladan and Elrohir were just outside the healer's door when they heard Thranduil talking to Erestor about the visions. Elladan pulled his twin into a small alcove as the king passed, he did not think Thranduil saw them, but he could not be sure.

"What is it, Elladan?" Elrohir whispered.

Elladan held his finger to Elrohir's lips until he was certain that Thranduil had passed and was out of hearing range. Elrohir smiled mischievously and pressed a kiss to his twin's index finger. Elladan glanced around quickly and slid his hand behind Elrohir's head, drawing his twin's lips to his own and kissing Elrohir possessively.

Elrohir moaned softly as he arched against his brother; it had been many long nights since they had shared one another's bodies. He loved the way Elladan kissed him, how his twin's lips and tongue moved against his own. He could feel his desire just beginning to stir when Elladan pulled away and broke the kiss. He sighed, then opened his eyes slowly. A smile curved his lips as he watched Elladan tug down upon his tunic and try to regain his composure.

"Was that it?" he teased.

"No... erm..." Elladan cleared his throat. "What I meant to say before you so wickedly distracted me, was that I think we may be able to help Glorfindel and Erestor... perhaps the king as well..."

"How?"

"Do you remember the potion that father made for mother after she was attacked?"

Elrohir furrowed his brow. "I think so..."

"Do you remember the incantation he recited when preparing it?"

"Yes."

"If we can gather the same ingredients perhaps we can make the same potion..."

"And that would take the visions from their memory." Elrohir finished with a smile.

Elladan smiled as well and nodded. "Come, let us explore the healer's gardens."

"We may have to venture into the woods as well."

The twins hurried down the corridor toward the healer's gardens.

* * * *

Thranduil sat back in a large, overstuffed chair, swirling blackberry brandy in a fine silver goblet. Legolas sat across from him with his own goblet of brandy, staring into the fire.

"So your visit was fruitful?" the king asked his son.

"Yes, it was most pleasant as well. Imladris is a beautiful valley, as you well know."

Thranduil nodded in agreement then took a sip of his brandy. "I take it you have formed a bond of friendship with Elrond's sons?"

"Aye, I have," Legolas answered, then took a sip of his own brandy.

"And of the Lady Arwen?"

"She is most beautiful, indeed, father. But she has eyes for another..."

"And who would this other be?"

Legolas chuckled at his father's not-so-subtle interrogation. "A Dúnadan, father."

Thranduil's eyes widened. "Really? I wonder how Master Elrond feels about that..."

"Father..." Legolas smiled as he shook his head. "You are wicked to gossip in this way."

Thranduil smiled and winked at his son. "If one cannot be wicked with one's son, then who can one be wicked with?"

Legolas laughed aloud.

"So, you have lain with them then, I suppose?"

"Father!"

"Come, Legolas... It is not as if I am laboring under the delusion that you are still an innocent. Your attempts at secrecy here at home have not been altogether successful. Besides, you are my son, in more ways than one." Thranduil winked at Legolas.

Legolas felt the heat rising in his cheeks. "Yes, if you must know, I have lain with them, several times in fact. It has been a most pleasant experience."

Thranduil nodded. "I can imagine. The two of them entwined must be a sight to behold..."

Legolas cocked his head. "It did not take you long to see what is between them..."

"It never does, my son." Thranduil smiled. "I have no problem with it; love is love, even when it takes unusual forms. Now, that Glorfindel... that is an elf to behold. Pity his heart is lost to the staid advisor... well, pity for me I should say."

Legolas chuckled. "I knew you would like him. I have to agree, not only is he beautiful, but he is strong and admirable; he is a wise and skilled warrior. Lord Erestor also has admirable battle skills, but he does not have the zeal for fighting that Glorfindel does."

"They make a beautiful pair," Thranduil answered. "Fire and ice, they are..."

Legolas sat his goblet down and knelt at his father's feet. He leaned forward and embraced Thranduil, resting his head upon his father's broad chest. "I missed you, father," he said quietly.

Thranduil stroked his son's hair. "I missed you as well, Greenleaf."

"I want to see you in love, I want to see you look at someone the way Elladan and Elrohir look at one another."

"I want the same for you, Legolas. Perhaps we will both find it one day..."

"I hope so," Legolas answered quietly.

Legolas moved to sit in his father's lap as he did when he was a child. Thranduil held him as they gazed into the fire and enjoyed a quiet moment together.

To be continued...

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir concoct a healing potion; Glorfindel awakes; the twins find time alone.

Elladan and Elrohir emerged from the woods with sacks of various flowers and some bark from different trees. The master healer watched as the twins prepared a cloudy liquid and whispered an incantation. He eagerly took notes of the ingredients and amounts of each, then wrote the incantation down in his notebook. If the potion and incantation worked, he would be able to help the troubled spirits of many of his kinsmen.

Erestor had already begun to see flashes of the visions. The first several caused him to clench his eyes shut and gasp aloud. Glorfindel was still sedated but sleeping fitfully; Erestor was sure the visions were haunting him too. As the twins approached the bed with the concoction, he asked them in a worried voice, "Can we not wake him? These visions are bad enough when one is awake, but to keep dreaming them over and over without relief..."

Elladan nodded. "Let me check his wound; if it has healed enough, I will rouse him."

Elrohir handed the small bowl to Erestor. "Here, drink it all down quickly. It tastes most foul but will be worth it..."

Erestor took the bowl and gulped the contents down, struggling not to gag. His expression was screwed into one of disgust as he handed the bowl back to Elrohir. "Most foul? That was the most disgusting thing that has ever crossed my lips... So bitter!"

Elrohir sat upon the bed and chuckled. "Rinse your mouth out and spit into the bowl. You cannot ingest anything until nightfall."

Erestor did as instructed and turned to watch Elladan attending to Glorfindel.

Elladan slowly removed the bandage from Glorfindel's face and rinsed the poultice off with a warm, wet cloth. He smiled as he inspected the wound and the Elda's jaw. "It has healed very well. I can remove the stitches and I believe the bone is mended. He will not be able to eat solid food for a few days yet, but he is going to be fine."

"That means no kissing with an open mouth," Elrohir teased Erestor.

"Elrohir!" Erestor answered, crossing his arm over his chest.

Elrohir chuckled. "And now for you, let us see how that shoulder is doing." He began removing the sling on Erestor's arm.

"How did I do this?" Erestor asked.

"During the visions, you struggled so violently that you pulled your arm from the joint. I swear you would have torn it clean off if we had not untied you."

Erestor shuddered. He realized the flashes of dream-memory were lessening in both frequency and intensity. "I believe the potion is working," he said with a wary smile.

"Good," Elrohir answered. He examined Erestor's shoulder and found that the swelling had greatly lessened and the fever had left the joint. It was still tender, but was well on its way to healing completely due to the speedy healing qualities of the Elves. "You need to wear the sling for a day or two, just to be safe. You will have full use of your arm very soon."

"Thank you, Elrohir," Erestor said quietly. He turned to look at Glorfindel. Elladan was dabbing small drops of blood from where the sutures had been removed. A long, angry red scar marred the Elda's jaw line, but Elladan insisted it would fade completely. The left side of Glorfindel's face was still swollen and red, but he looked much better than he had but two days before. Within a few hours, they would know if the potion worked on the visions, already they were beginning to fade from his memory.

He watched Elladan pass a small pouch of herbs under Glorfindel's nose. Glorfindel immediately growled and grabbed Elladan's wrist tightly.

"Glorfindel, it is me. It is Elladan..."

The Elda looked up into his pupil's eyes and released his wrist and groaned in pain.

"Do not try to talk," Elladan answered. "Your jaw was broken and still needs a day or two to completely heal."

"Ungol... Annatar..." Glorfindel ground out from between his teeth.

"The ungol were real, that is how you broke your jaw. Annatar is a vision that came on with the fever..."

"Erestor..." Glorfindel murmured.

"Here, Glorfindel..."

Glorfindel slowly turned his head to see his lover in the bed beside him. His arm and side were bandaged but he looked unharmed otherwise. He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling a tear slip down his cheek.

"Are you in much pain?" Erestor asked worriedly.

He shook his head.

"I know the visions are terrible, I had them too."

Glorfindel nodded. Erestor slid to the edge of his bed and placed his uninjured arm around Glorfindel's shoulders. He looked to Elrohir. "Give it to him, please. I cannot watch him suffer this way..."

Elrohir nodded. "Here, Glorfindel, drink this down. It tastes awful but will erase the visions from your memory." Glorfindel sucked the liquid from a reed placed in the bowl, cringing from the foul taste. "It will be over soon, Glorfindel. By nightfall, you will not remember them..."

Glorfindel nodded and rested his head upon Erestor's shoulder, holding his lover's hand in both of his own. Elladan and Elrohir left them alone, drawing a curtain closed around their beds. They gave the healer permission to administer the potion to his patients, and Elladan said he would administer it to the king personally.

* * * *

The twins walked down the corridor toward their guest chambers, hand in hand.

"I am most grateful that it worked," Elrohir said softly.

"As am I," Elladan agreed.

"I do not want to know what they saw."

"Nor do I..."

They reached their rooms and Elrohir tugged upon Elladan's hand. "Come in my room with me," he whispered.

Elladan glanced up and down the hallway and saw no one present. He followed Elrohir into his bedchamber and closed the door behind them, making sure it was latched and locked. Elrohir stood beside the bed, slowly unbuttoning his tunic. Elladan crossed the room to him, clasping his twin's hands in his own and pulling them back. Elrohir gazed intensely at him, allowing him to pull his arms out to the sides and behind his back. Their mouths danced near each other as Elladan clasped his twin's wrists behind his back with one hand. Elrohir reached for him with his mouth and he pulled away, feeling his brother's breath upon his lips. He caressed Elrohir's face and watched as his twin pressed his mouth to the palm of his hand. He could feel desire lighting inside him, feel the insistent pull and pulse of heat in his loins. He needed no words to know what Elrohir wanted; he always knew what Elrohir wanted. He assaulted Elrohir's ear with his mouth and heard his twin groan deeply. Elrohir leaned into him, bending one leg and wrapping it around his own, pressing his groin into him.

"Please..." Elrohir whispered.

"Yes." Elladan replied, and he released his twin's wrists and began removing Elrohir's garments in a fevered rush. Elrohir furiously tugged at his own clothing, and he quickly shrugged his tunic off his shoulders. The feel of his brother's fingers digging into the flesh and muscle of his back was intoxicating, and he forced himself to slow down, to savor their lovemaking, to make the moment last as long as possible. His mind drifted between the fire of the moment and memories of their first encounter. So often, Elrohir still looked like his innocent younger brother, his wide gray eyes pleading and afraid, his sinfully ripe lips begging to be consumed. Elrohir haunted both his waking and dreaming moments; the wicked acts he had perpetrated upon this perfect body swirled in his mind. Elrohir was always submissive with him, though rarely so with others. He supposed it was because he was the one who had taken Elrohir's innocence when he bent his twin over his narrow bed and penetrated his body. Legolas had been the only other one permitted to take Elrohir, and Elladan still found himself wondering why his twin allowed it.

Elrohir pulled him to the bed and on top of him, wrapping his long, powerful legs around him as their bodies moved against one another. He could feel Elrohir's hands in his hair, his twin's lips upon his neck and ear, Elrohir's eager body arching and bowing beneath him. He moaned as his twin's oiled hand worked his arousal and he joined his brother in the act, slicking his own hand then reaching down between Elrohir's legs.

The soft cry of pleasure that came from Elrohir's lips caused him to moan deeply in reply. Finding his mark, he felt Elrohir tense around his fingers and heard him utter a strangled cry into his hair.

"Please, Elladan..."

His twin's voice was his siren call, soft, deep notes sung to a lover, pleading with him to take him, to ride his body and join their hearts and souls in the act of love.

"I love you, Elrohir," he whispered against his twin's lips as he entered his body. The sight of Elrohir lost in love and passion, his head thrown back, his lips parted and curved into a smile caused his heart to swell within his chest. As much as he wanted to savor it, as long as he wanted it to last, he could resist Elrohir's pleading no longer. He rode him hard and fast, burying himself to the root in his twin's heat. He felt Elrohir's seed spill hot between their bodies and his channel tighten and squeeze his length mercilessly. A deep growl escaped him as he emptied himself inside Elrohir and collapsed into his embrace.

As he reveled in the warm afterglow of his climax, he felt Elrohir's hands stroking his hair, heard his brother's voice whispering sweet words of love and devotion to him. He trembled in Elrohir's arms, reduced to the most pure of all emotion. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift into reverie, ensconced in Elrohir's embrace.

* * * *

Legolas lay upon his back on his bed, his hands folded behind his head, his ankles crossed. It felt good to be home, though the road had been treacherous. He imagined Elladan and Elrohir would be lying together, taking advantage of the time they had and the comfort of a warm bed. That thought caused his lips to curve into a smile as he remembered their conversations in Imladris. His father's reaction and observation had not come as a surprise, really. Legolas learned long ago that few things escaped his father's attention. He was pleased that Thranduil saw no harm in the twins' love for one another; his father's wisdom only made him love him even more. He wished his father had one to love. Sure, Thranduil had lovers, no shortage of them in fact. However, he wanted his father to love someone like Elladan and Elrohir loved one another, like Glorfindel and Erestor loved one another – although the Balrog slayer was not aware of his own feelings yet.

'One day,' he thought. 'One day he will find happiness and love in another, as will I.'

He closed his eyes, the hard trials over the last few days finally catching up with him, and he drifted into reverie, enjoying a midday nap.

* * * *

Thranduil sat at his desk, an open volume of the history of his people before him. His eyes focused on the likeness of a helmed figure, cloaked in black, standing before the Mountain of Fire. A feral sneer curved his lip and he growled, "You will fall. Be it by my hand or another's, those you have murdered and tortured will be avenged. Laugh now, beast. For your days of malice and laughter will soon be over..."

What Thranduil could not have imagined was that the Dark Lord would meet his fate at the hands of a halfling...

* * * *

In the Caves of Thranduil, two brothers revel in their love, two lovers heal each other, a king wishes for revenge and a prince wishes for love.

In a land far west of Mirkwood, a halfling toys with a ring in his pocket.

In Imladris, a young man learns of his heritage and birthright, and embarks upon the road to his destiny.

In the wilds of Rhovanion, a wretched creature bemoans the loss of something he loved, searching for it and crying out in misery in the darkness.

In the south of what was once the great wood, fearsome beasts rebuild and occupy a fortress.

The times are changing and the Third Age is beginning to draw to an end.

To be continued...

Summary: Thranduil gets some disturbing news and makes a demand of Legolas; Glorfindel and Erestor find humor in their situation.

Thranduil slammed the flat of his hand down upon his heavy oak desk in frustration. The herald flinched in response and waited for the king to reply to this latest news.

"Not again..." Thranduil growled. "He cannot have my forest! He will not take my home!" he barked. He turned his dark eyes to his herald. The king then sighed and shook his head and continued, "Forgive me, Galador. I know 'tis not through any failing of our warriors that this has happened. Bear word back to the captain to stay as close as he can without endangering the lives of his soldiers. We must watch Dol Guldur carefully in the coming days."

The herald bowed his head, his silver hair shrouding his worried face, then stepped backward and turned, departing the king's study.

Thranduil sat heavily in his chair, leaning back and rubbing his temples with his fingers. Sauron had reoccupied Dol Guldur by sending the Nazgûl. Spiders and orcs were one thing, as long as he could remain aware of their movements, he could combat the beasts, but the Nazgûl... there was no fighting the Nazgûl. How could you defeat what you could not kill? A sense of failure weighed heavy upon Thranduil. He was losing ground to the enemy; he feared that soon the wood would be lost.

"Father?"

He opened his eyes to see his son standing in the doorway. Legolas' eyes were clouded with concern. How many times had he wished that he had sent his son to Aman? How many times had he feared for Legolas' life? Was saving the wood more important than protecting his only son? He inwardly cursed his selfish, stubborn pride...

"Was that Galador that just left? Is there news from the border? What is it, father?" Legolas asked as he entered his father's study, closing the door behind him. "Why do you look so... worried?"

Thranduil rose from his chair and rounded the desk, placing one hand upon Legolas' shoulder and cupping his son's cheek with the other. "I want you to do something for me, Greenleaf," he said quietly.

"Anything, father," Legolas answered softly.

"When our visitors depart for Lórien, I want you to go with them."

"Why? I have just arrived home, I have duties..."

"Legolas, listen to me. I want you to go with them to Lórien and bear a message for me to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Then I want you to ride south, to the Gap of Rohan, then west to the Havens." Legolas began shaking his head. "I want you to board the next ship and leave this place..."

"No!" Legolas shouted. "I will not leave you here alone! I will not abandon my home..."

"Legolas, please, you must do this for me. I will not have you risk your life any further; I cannot risk losing you. You must do this for me..."

"I will not! I will not leave you..."

"Legolas!" Thranduil barked. "I am ordering you as your father, as your king, to leave this wood and never come back! Do not make me banish you from this place..."

"And what about what I cannot bear?" Legolas shouted. "How am I to live with the knowledge that I ran from my duty as your son, ran from the duty I have to my kindred? How am I supposed to just walk away from here and leave you behind? If you want me gone, then banish me... but I will not leave Middle-earth, and if war comes, I will ride to battle with whatever army will have me." Thranduil sighed and dropped his head. Legolas placed his hand upon his father's shoulder and tried to lift his father's chin. "Tell me what has happened, father, please..."

There was no point in hiding it from him, Legolas was a captain in his guard, he would learn soon enough. "Sit." Thranduil motioned to a chair, and Legolas took it as he perched himself upon the corner of his desk. "War is coming, my son. I know not when, but come it will, and it will be the war to end them all..."

Legolas gripped the arms of the chair in his hands. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, his blood racing through his veins. His father never spoke of what happened upon the Morannon, or of the horrors he saw in front of the Black Gates. Legolas only knew that his father had seen his own father fall, and had returned home with less than a third of those he had departed Greenwood with. Lord Elrond had told Legolas much about the great war that ended the Second Age, and had given him books of history to read.

When Legolas was young, he had heard the murmurings of those that remembered his father from before the war, the hushed whisperings of nursemaids and cooks, of chambermaids and seamstresses. They said the king had changed, that he was no longer the same young prince he had been before leaving Greenwood. Some said it was the death of his father, some said it was the horror of war or that he had seen Sauron, but all agreed that a shadow had been cast over Thranduil's spirit. As Legolas looked at his father in that moment, the shadow was clearly visible. Often his father's gaze was kind, if not a bit weary, and in it, he saw his father's love for him. Now he only saw anger and regret, and something he had never seen before – fear.

"The Dark Lord has retaken Dol Guldur..."

"No..." Legolas gasped.

"Úlairi have been seen, riding their crazed horses and flying upon winged serpents... The Dark Lord seeks to reclaim what he once made his own, and then he will make war upon all of Middle-earth. He will not stop, Legolas, not until every tree is burned and every living thing upon this earth is dead."

"We must seek help from the White Council..." Legolas answered in earnest. "Mithrandir persuaded them once before..."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "They will not attack again... Mithrandir may be our friend, but my heart tells me that Curunír* is not. Too many strange things are happening, Greenleaf. Why do yrch search the Vales of the Anduin? And now the Úlairi have come... I have an ill feeling about these things. My heart tells me that a great evil has awakened."

"The Ring..." Legolas whispered.

Thranduil took his son's hand. "Perhaps. We are fighting a foe that we cannot defeat, Legolas. Legions of Eldar, Men and Dwarves fell before the Black Gates. Great kings of the Noldor, Sindar, and Edain fell in that battle. We are but a small band of elves hidden in the forest. Had the Dark Lord not shown weakness in his arrogance and wore the One Ring into open battle, we all would have fallen into darkness. It is only by the strange fate of Isildur that we vanquished him; yet he was not destroyed..."

"As long as the Ring exists..." Legolas whispered.

"The Dark Lord lives..." Thranduil finished.

"We must find it before his servants do; we must hide it!"

Thranduil shook his head. "That Ring is evil, Greenleaf. None of us dare touch it or we risk being corrupted by it. No, my heart tells me that if it were here, it would have been found."

Legolas paled. "Perhaps it has been found... perhaps that is why the Úlairi have come, to bear it back to its master."

"If that is the truth, then we are all doomed, my son. All the more reason to leave this place and sail to Aman."

Legolas looked into his father's eyes. "I will leave, if you will leave with me."

"There are those here who still wish to fight for our home, Legolas. I cannot leave them leaderless..."

"Then I will stay and fight with you, as I have always done." He rose and put his arms around Thranduil's waist. "I will not leave you, father. I love you..."

Thranduil cradled Legolas' head upon his shoulder, stroking the length of flaxen hair beneath his hand. "And I love you, my son..."

* * * *

Glorfindel yawned and grimaced in discomfort, then he blinked as his eyes slowly cleared of reverie. He could not tell whether it was day or night, as being underground, it was always dark. The healer's chambers were lit with lanterns, the light dim so that his patients could find rest. He slowly moved his head, feeling Erestor's silken hair beneath his cheek. He had not moved for hours, and his body groaned in complaint. A smile curved his lips as Erestor sighed and his hand softly caressed his lover's chest through the linen of his sleeping gown.

"Glorfindel..." Erestor murmured softly.

"Yes?" he whispered in return.

"How fare you?"

"Better..." he mumbled.

"Your shoulder, is it painful?"

"No. My jaw is stiff and tender, but other than that, I am fine. And you, my brave councilor?"

Erestor moaned as he stretched. "My shoulder is tight, but I will be well soon. Hopefully, I will not need to battle any more ungol."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement. "Aye, I agree with you on that point, my good advisor. I hope and pray my days fighting ungol are over." He chuckled.

"What is so funny, might I ask?"

"Look at us, two battered and weary souls brought down by a few ungol..."

"I do not know about yours, but the one I had to battle was four times my size, and if I recall, there were more than a few..."

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, you wield a tree branch well, my friend..."

Erestor pinched the warrior's nipple and Glorfindel barked in surprise. "I am still better off than you, so hold your tongue or you will pay for your insolence..."

"You think you can best me then?" Glorfindel teased.

"I know I can. I have before..."

"Care to make a wager on that?" Glorfindel winked, and Erestor laughed.

"'Tis good to hear laughter coming from these beds..."

The pair looked up to see Thranduil standing before them, arms crossed over his chest. Erestor flushed as he asked, "How long have you been standing there, my lord?"

Thranduil winked as he replied, "Long enough. Good to see you awake, Lord Glorfindel. How are you feeling?"

"Better, my lord," Glorfindel answered. "My thanks to you and your healing staff, you saved our lives."

"Lives well worth the saving, I should say," Thranduil answered. "Since you are feeling better, I will have my chambermaids prepare proper quarters for you, so that the two of you may have some privacy." He smiled over his shoulder as he turned to leave the room.

"Many thanks, my lord..." Erestor called after him.

Thranduil waved his hand in reply and sought out his chambermaids.

To be continued...

* Curunír = the Elves' name for Saruman

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir have a talk; Elladan and the king meet privately.

Elladan smoothed the velvet of his robe as Elrohir stood behind him running a brush made of boar's hair through his thick sable locks.

"It was kind of his majesty to have these robes delivered to us," Elladan said softly. "I would not like to sit at his table in my travel clothes."

"I wonder if there is some secret to removing ungol filth?" Elrohir said absently.

"Let us both hope that we do not need to discover it."

"Aye. I wonder how long we will be delayed here?"

"Glorfindel and Erestor should be ready to ride and fight, if need be, in few days time. Are you anxious to return to the Golden Wood?"

"It will be nice to see Grandmother and Grandfather again, and to see Arwen. But staying here does have its advantages..."

Elladan turned and looked into his twin's eyes as he caressed his cheek. "Aye, it most certainly does."

"We have not seen Legolas this day, I wonder how he fares?"

"Fine, I am sure; he is home after all. His father is quite impressive, do you not agree?"

"Yes, Thranduil is an impressive figure – it is apparent where Legolas takes his beauty from, and his bravery..."

"You are most smitten with Legolas, little brother," Elladan answered softly.

"Are you saying that you are not?"

"That is not what I am saying at all... but I am not as attached to him as you are. You have grown very close to him in the months we have been his friends, closer than you have to any other in our lives."

"There is something about him..." Elrohir mused. "A quality of... vulnerability that underlies his strength and bravery. I was drawn to him because of his beauty in the beginning, but now I am drawn to him because of his spirit."

Elladan nodded. He could sense the bond forming between Elrohir and Legolas; it was something that had not happened between his twin and another before. "You give yourself to him, that is something else you have never done for anyone but me."

Elrohir looked into Elladan's eyes. Were it not for the bond that existed between them, he would have believed his twin to be jealous. "Does it disturb you that I do so?"

"No. I am just surprised by it, I suppose. I have seen how you are with your other lovers, Elrohir; you are different with our prince."

"The others are just diversions, a ploy to draw questions away from you and me. Legolas is not that..." Elladan nodded. "Does this bother you, Elladan?" Elrohir asked softly.

"Of course not, Elrohir. What makes you happy makes me happy; but I would not want Legolas to get hurt. In the end, there is only you and me; there can be only you and me..."

"I know." Elrohir turned away from Elladan, suddenly feeling uncomfortable standing so close.

Elladan sighed as he took Elrohir's hair and pulled it behind his back. He then rested his hands on his twin's shoulders and kissed the crown of his head. "Come, we will be late for the evening meal."

* * * *

Thranduil sat at the head of the table, as was customary. Legolas sat on his right, Elladan on his left, and Elrohir took a seat next to Legolas. There was an air of tension that both Elladan and Elrohir felt but could not account for. Members of Thranduil's court asked them questions about Imladris and discussed political matters. The king only interjected when necessary; otherwise, he was silent.

Elladan's gaze was torn between the magnetic king and Elrohir. He could not help but notice how happy Elrohir was to see Legolas and he took note of all the soft touches upon the prince's arm. When his gaze left his twin, it was drawn to Thranduil. The king was resplendent, dressed in robes of deep green velvet and silver silk, his flaxen hair standing out against the dark hue of his robe. Thranduil was of impressive stature, taller and broader than the average elf. He was of similar height and strength to Glorfindel, though not quite as elegant. However, Thranduil had an irresistible magnetism, a feral sort of sensuality that could be quite unnerving. Elladan had decided to approach the king about the tonic he and Elrohir had developed and gain his permission to administer it to him that night. Thranduil knew of the existence of the tonic of course, he had given his approval to the healer to administer it to his soldiers, insisting that they received it before he did.

Elladan did not realize he was staring at the king until Thranduil's eyes met his own, deep sapphire meeting stormy gray.

"My thanks to you and your brother, Lord Elladan. Your tonic will ease the suffering of my warriors and return peace of mind to them."

"It was our pleasure, my lord. We are happy that it worked as we hoped it would. We are also in your debt, for you saved the lives of our dearest friends and tutors."

Thranduil smiled and raised his glass, his eyes never leaving Elladan's as he peered over the rim of the silver goblet. Elrohir caught the exchange between his brother and the king and turned his eyes away. He felt Legolas' hand upon his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, then he turned his gaze to his friend. The gentle smile that curved Legolas' lips warmed his heart. While he and Elladan had to keep up appearances, it always wounded him to see his beloved engage in flirtation with another.

After the meal was over and the guests began returning to their quarters, Elladan caught the king's arm and offered to bring the tonic to his quarters personally. At the touch of his hand upon the king's arm, a sudden nightmarish flash invaded his waking sight. It lasted but a fraction of a moment, but it was enough to cause him to blanch and pull his hand away. At the same moment, Thranduil turned and pulled his arm away from Elladan, but he saw that it was too late.

"It is not proper to take what is not freely given," he said in a low voice. "No one is permitted to touch me without my prior consent."

"I... I am sorry, my lord," Elladan stammered. "I meant no offense, I did not mean to pry. I was not looking for..."

Thranduil held up his hand and silenced Elladan. "You are forgiven, Master Elladan. But you can see why such rules exist, no?"

Elladan nodded mutely.

Thranduil was no stranger to being pursued or wanted; he recognized the offer for what it was, a hopeful opening for an invitation. While a sexual dalliance between him and Elrond's eldest son and heir probably would not help close the distance between their two realms, the Peredhel was far past his majority. He agreed to receive Elladan in his chambers, "I will see you in my quarters..."

"As you wish, my lord," Elladan replied, and bowed as Thranduil took his leave.

* * * *

A soft knock upon his door signaled the arrival of Thranduil's guest. He called for Elladan to enter and turned to greet the Peredhel as he came through the door bearing a tray with a pot and cup.

"You have brought this magic potion, I see," he said inquisitively, closing the door behind Elladan.

"Aye. I said I would, my lord."

"How does this work exactly?" he bent down and breathed in the steam from the pot, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"It seeks out and mends the pathways in your mind which retain the visions. It is a combination of healing and calming herbs and magic that our father taught us."

"And it only removes the visions, nothing else?"

"Aye. It will leave all true memories untouched, only removing the false ones, the ones that do not belong. One effect is pronounced drowsiness, so you should take the potion only when you are ready for sleep."

Thranduil nodded. "Well then, let us hold off this potion for awhile. I would like to speak to you, if I may."

"Of course, my lord." Elladan bowed his head and followed Thranduil to a sitting area near the large hearth.

A fire warmed the room, casting an amber glow upon the rug and stones of the floor. The king's bedchamber was large, as befitted one of his stature. There was a dressing area behind a willow screen, an intricately carved table, a full-length mirror, an armoire, an overlarge iron bed that had been handcrafted by dwarves and was draped in the finest silk. A heavy curtain covered a portico that lead to an underground mineral pool that was fed by a spring. The water was warm as it came from deep beneath the surface of the earth.

Elladan sat in a large, soft chair near the fire as Thranduil took a seat across from him.

"What you saw earlier," Thranduil began, "was a glimpse of what I have been living with all these years. It lurks beneath the surface of my consciousness. I am able to control it finally, but for many years, it tormented me in both waking and sleeping moments."

Elladan's own memories of finding his mother were still fresh in his own memory; there was no tonic that could remove them. "It was Legolas I saw, was it not?"

"It is difficult to tell sometimes, all the blood makes him nearly unrecognizable."

"Does he know?"

"No. He knows I have been haunted by visions, but he does not know what I see, I keep it from him."

Elladan nodded. Thranduil rose from his chair and offered Elladan some wine, which the Peredhel accepted. Upon his return, he held out the goblet.

"You may touch me now, it is safe to do so," he answered softly.

Elladan rose from his chair to stand before the king and extended his hand, accepting the goblet and letting his fingers brush the king's as he took it. Thranduil smiled that sensual smile and Elladan felt a brief tug in his loins.

"I am honored that you wanted to be the one to administer the tonic to me." Thranduil spoke softly, his deep, honeyed voice caressing Elladan's ears.

"It was the least thing I could do in exchange for your hospitality and aid to us," Elladan answered. He took a sip of his wine and thought for a moment. He then asked, "Is it true you can produce visions of your own in other's minds?"

Thranduil chuckled and sat his goblet down upon the table. "My reputation has spread far if that rumor has reached your ears, my friend." He smiled and looked at Elladan. "Aye, but I do not so much produce visions as share memories of my own."

"What sort of memories?"

Thranduil took the goblet from Elladan's hand and sat it upon the table next to his own. "Memories from my life, like this one..." He took the Peredhel's hands and placed them upon his chest and closed his eyes.

Elladan gasped, then his lips curved into a smile. He was in a wondrous forest, one that even rivaled the beauty of Lothlórien. Gently rolling hills, massive trees, ferns, flowers, and all manner of fauna roamed the peaceful wood. Among the trees could be heard a voice singing, one so beautiful that it nearly rent Elladan's heart in two to listen to it. He saw massive caves with carved iron doors, jeweled handles and colored glass lanterns. Tapestries hung upon the walls and intricately carved pillars of stone held the roof aloft. Everywhere there was music, singing, harpists, elf-maids dancing upon feet as light as air, gowns swirling, delicate necks craned and eyes lifted toward the sky as they sang songs to the Valar. He gasped again and murmured, "Beren..." He heard Thranduil answer with a soft, "Yes." He then saw the beautiful Lúthien and realized why so many compared Arwen to her; they looked very much alike with the exception that one had dark hair and the other was fair. He saw Mablung and Oropher dressed in their palace guard uniforms; Oropher was bearing his spear but the shaft only had a few notches upon it. He then saw King Thingol, then finally, Melian the Maia.

As quickly as the vision came, it faded like a puff of smoke, and his hands were removed from Thranduil's chest. His palms tingled and felt warm from where they had rested upon the king's chest and he looked at them, rubbing them together before looking into Thranduil's eyes. "Your life in Menegroth," he said softly.

Thranduil nodded. "Aye, those were the days of my youth."

"It was beautiful, my lord," he said quietly. "I thank you for sharing it with me."

"It is a pleasure to remember happier times, my friend. Sharing them with you is my pleasure as well." Thranduil reached for his goblet and took another sip of wine.

"Are memories all you can share? Or can you share other things?" Elladan asked.

Thranduil turned his alluring gaze to the Peredhel and smiled. "What would you like to see?"

"Can you see what is in my mind?"

Thranduil took his hands and placed them upon Elladan's head, his thumbs resting lightly upon the curves of the Peredhel's ears. A deep rumble of appreciation came from his chest as his lips parted ever so slightly. His thumbs caressed the curves of Elladan's ears and he heard the answering moan that they wrought.

"Is that what you wish? Or is it merely a dream?" he asked sultrily.

"I wish it..." Elladan whispered huskily.

"Then you shall have it."

To be continued...

Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor find some quality time; Legolas pays a visit to Elrohir; Elladan and Thranduil get to know one another better.

Glorfindel smiled as Erestor snuggled close. This bed was far more comfortable than the plain beds in the healer's quarters. It was large and soft, covered in silk and velvet bedding, with thick pillows and a plump mattress. A fire blazed in the hearth, warming their room and casting a bright orange glow. They had a small table with two chairs, an armoire, a large iron tub for bathing, and a basin and pitcher for regular washing. The walls were decorated with tapestries and intricately crafted lanterns, and fresh flowers adorned vases that were set about the room. It was comfortable, luxurious, and very private.

His fingers drew lazy circles upon Erestor's bare back, raising gooseflesh on the silken, ivory flesh. Erestor moaned softly as he caressed and explored Glorfindel's chest with his elegant hands. So often in the course of their relationship, this was how their lovemaking would begin, with soft touches and quiet moans and sighs. It had been over a week since Glorfindel last made love to Erestor. A week was not so much in the long march of time that was an elf's life, but after so many years without that pleasure, a week felt like an eternity to him. They were both still somewhat limited as to what they could do, and more than once in their past their lovemaking had been strenuous.

Glorfindel's eyes fluttered closed as Erestor's mouth found one of his nipples. His lips parted and he drew a ragged breath as his lover's mouth worked it into a hard peak. The advisor's hand kept the inflamed nub at full attention while his mouth moved to its twin. The steady pulsing in his loins increased as his lover's weight settled atop him. Glorfindel's hands began kneading Erestor's soft, fair skin, his fingers digging into the lean muscles that moved beneath the surface, muscles that rippled like waves upon a disturbed pond. He rolled his hips forward, pressing his awakening arousal into his lover's hip. Erestor responded with a deep moan, nipping at his engorged nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

It was such a struggle to contain the fire that burned inside him upon just the touch of his lover's hand. His heart was beginning to race; his breaths were coming heavier and faster. A feral growl of pleasure escaped his lips as Erestor swallowed his length, his lover's lips and tongue working their sensual magic upon his heated flesh. He clenched his jaw, then groaned in pain before relaxing it. Erestor paid no heed to his groan of discomfort; his lover's assault was relentless. His hips were pinned to the bed as he struggled to thrust up into the hot, wet embrace of Erestor's mouth. The fire that had been slowly building was now threatening to rage out of control. He could feel his length swelling as it wept ceaselessly upon Erestor's tongue. The councilor moaned, sending cascading waves of ecstasy along his arousal, and he whimpered in response. He was undone, completely at the mercy of his dark, smoldering lover. Erestor gripped the base of his engorged length, staving off his release as he continued to torment him with his mouth. Long, slow strokes of his lover's deft hands upon his overheated and slick length were punctuated by squeezes at the tip, Erestor's thumb massaging and spreading the now abundant fluid that leaked from it. He groaned deeply as Erestor's mouth left his arousal and took the soft pouch of skin that lay beneath his length inside, and he spread his legs wide, offering himself to his dark councilor with no shame. A plaintive cry escaped his lips as his body was breached by Erestor's tongue, the slick muscle sliding in and out of his entrance with practiced ease.

Breathless pleas escaped Glorfindel's lips, promises to do everything from slay dragons to humble himself in the most creative of ways. Erestor smiled in satisfaction and acquiesced, unwilling to withhold fulfillment from his lover any longer. He reached for a jar of healing salve that had been left behind and used it to generously coat his length. He moved so that his face hovered over his beloved's, their open mouths just out of reach of one another as his fingers slid inside Glorfindel's body.

Glorfindel bowed off the bed and cried out as Erestor found his mark, the fingers of one hand buried deep in his body, the fingers of the other wrapped around his engorged arousal with surprising force. A whimper of pain escaped his lips and Erestor soothed him, placing soft kisses upon his jaw and murmuring words of comfort to him. The pain in his jaw subsided and he breathed deeply, shuddering with each touch of his lover's fingers to that place inside him that turned his blood to liquid fire.

"Do not make me wait, Erestor, not any longer..." he whispered hoarsely.

Erestor nodded and consumed the warrior's mouth; his tongue sweeping over Glorfindel's own before releasing it. He then buried himself in his lover's willing body, sliding in to the root before beginning to ride out his pleasure. He buried his face in Glorfindel's neck, tongue licking, teeth marking the smooth flesh as he felt Glorfindel's legs wrap tightly around his waist. His shoulder ached from the strain of holding himself off his lover, but he quickly pushed the pain away as he thrust deeper and harder into his beloved's strong body. He shifted his weight to his uninjured side and took Glorfindel in hand, pumping his lover's length with his slick fist.

"Come for me, my love," he whispered. "I want you to find your release as I find my own..."

Glorfindel bit down upon Erestor's neck, earning an answering groan from his lover before his body tightened with surprising force, wrenching a strangled cry from his lips as he spilled himself between their sweat slicked bodies. Erestor growled in response, his own climax coming as he emptied himself deep inside Glorfindel's passage.

After several moments of quiet, the only sound heard being their rough breathing, Glorfindel whispered hoarsely, "Sweet Eru, Erestor..."

Erestor chuckled as he lay upon Glorfindel's chest. "Mmm... that was most pleasant, Glorfindel," he murmured against the warrior's right pectoral muscle. He slowly raised himself off his beloved and looked into his eyes as he caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. "Is your jaw too painful?"

Glorfindel smiled and shook his head. "In the heat of the moment, I forgot myself, it would seem..."

Erestor trailed soft kisses upon the pink scar. "Forgive me for driving you to such distraction, lover..."

Glorfindel purred appreciatively, "Hmmm... I do believe I can do that."

They lay quietly in one another's arms for long moments before rising gingerly and running a hot bath to soothe their aches.

* * * *

Elrohir sat in the middle of his bed, dressed in his sleeping gown as he brushed his hair. His eyes were clouded with regret as he thought about what Elladan would be doing in that moment. He was not sure he wanted his twin to be alone with Thranduil, but he had not voiced his opposition, instead agreeing to what Elladan wanted, which was at that moment, Thranduil.

A soft knock upon his door broke his unpleasant reverie and he called for his visitor to answer. Legolas' head poked through the door.

"May I come in?" he asked softly.

Elrohir smiled and nodded. "Of course, my prince." He rose from the bed, placing the hairbrush upon the bedside table.

Legolas entered and smiled as Elrohir embraced him, nestling his head in the crook between neck and shoulder. He stroked Elrohir's thick, silken hair as he felt Elrohir's hands caress his back through the thin silk of his night robe.

"I am glad you came, Legolas" Elrohir said softly. "I was not looking forward to spending the evening alone."

"Elladan is with my father, is he not?"

"Aye, and most likely will be for the rest of the night." Elrohir drew back and placed a gentle kiss upon Legolas' lips. The kiss deepened as he sought entrance into the prince's mouth. Legolas complied, opening to Elrohir and allowing him to taste him for as long as he wished. He returned the kiss with equal vigor as he drew the Prince of Imladris deeper into his embrace. As their passions mounted, Elrohir could feel Legolas' hands in his hair, his fingers gripping him tightly. His own hands traveled down the prince's long back, settling on the firm, round globes of his buttocks and squeezing possessively. Legolas' deep moan earned a like one from him as he arched against his prince.

As they separated, Legolas whispered, "You want me this way? Without Elladan here?" He had never lain with them separately before and was unsure it was a wise thing to do.

"Yes," Elrohir answered with a husky murmur. "I do not need Elladan here to want you this way."

"I do not wish to be a consolation prize or substitute, Elrohir," Legolas answered softly.

Elrohir caressed Legolas' face and answered, "You are not. I always want you this way; you are ever in my thoughts..."

"As you are in mine," Legolas answered, before claiming Elrohir's mouth once more.

They moved to the bed, divesting one another of their sleeping robes along the way. Elrohir pulled Legolas down to him, wrapping his long legs and arms around his princely lover. "Take me, Legolas," he whispered. "I want to feel you inside me..."

Legolas hesitated. He knew what it meant for Elrohir to give himself to him without the presence of his brother. It was an understanding the twins had; Elrohir was submissive to Elladan in their coupling. Elrohir had given himself to Legolas before, but Legolas had assumed it was something Elladan and he had worked out between themselves. Now Elrohir offered himself without his twin there, and Legolas wondered how Elladan would feel about that.

Elrohir sensed Legolas' hesitation, and he took the prince's face in his hands. "You do not want me?" he asked softly.

"I do, I want you very much," Legolas answered. "But you do this and..."

"Elladan is not here," Elrohir answered. Legolas nodded. "He is not my keeper, Legolas. What I do with my body and who I give myself to is my choice, not his."

"I understand that... yet..."

"You do not want to come between us. I know," Elrohir answered. "Elladan knows how I feel about you, he knows that I do not see you as just another lover. I offer myself to you because I care deeply for you; indeed, I love you. I love how you feel inside me. I love how you hold me and touch me as though I were some precious object given into your care. I love the way you feel and taste and smell... Please, my prince. Do not deny me this..."

Legolas looked into Elrohir's sparkling gray eyes and whispered against his lips, "I will deny you nothing..."

* * * *

Elladan rose to the balls of his feet, whimpering as Thranduil hungrily claimed his mouth. It was not like him to be so yielding and submissive, but if they were to join their bodies, he knew that was how it would have to be; the king yielded to no one.

'Valar, he tastes so good... he kisses so good...' Elladan thought to himself. The heady aroma of almonds and soft cedar blended in a smoky, musky scent that alone would drive him to distraction. The king's mouth was so warm, so wet, his lips so soft yet still so commanding; his hands so strong and possessive... The first touch of Thranduil's hand upon his bare chest nearly caused him to moan like an innocent. Skilled fingers manipulated and explored his body, raking through the light dusting of hair upon his chest, tugging gently upon it before traveling lower. All the while, that mouth kept plundering his own, delving deeper, drinking of him. Within a few moments, he was lost and utterly at the king's mercy, his body arching into Thranduil's own, his hands clutching at the Sinda's broad back.

"Ah, gods," he groaned as Thranduil's fingers found their way inside his robe, causing it to fall to the floor. He tugged and pulled at the king's robe until Thranduil shrugged out of it, letting it pool at his ankles on the floor. Elladan leaned his head back as Thranduil's mouth left his own and traveled to his neck. The thin slip of silk that made up his loincloth was all that separated them. The king's arousal pressed firmly into his hip and his own strained against the silken barrier that stood between them.

"You are unusually beautiful, son of Elrond," Thranduil murmured. "I have never lain with one who had blood of the Edain. The mixture of it with your Eldar blood is quite interesting, and quite sensual..."

Thranduil pulled away, keeping Elladan's hand and leading him toward the bed. Elladan took in the king's form with his eyes, his gaze traveling over the hard muscles and alabaster skin that glided over them. 'So much like his son, yet still so different...' he mused. As they arrived at the bed, he heard the king ask, "Do I please you?"

He could not prevent the smile that curved his full lips. "Aye. You are most beautiful, my lord." He barked in surprise as the king tossed him onto the bed, then mounted it, straddling his hips.

"I am most glad to hear it," Thranduil answered with a smile. "I sense you do not yield often. It is something you will grow accustomed to this night."

Elladan nodded mutely, his hands fisting the sheets as Thranduil removed his loincloth. As Thranduil consumed him, he arched off the bed, instantly wanting to thrust deep into the wet heat that surrounded him. The king grasped his hips, pinning him to the bed as he worked his swollen arousal with unparalleled skill. He would bring him to the brink of release time and again, yet each time withholding what he so desperately wanted.

There was no pretense between them, no sweet words of romance; there was only heat and want and lust so great he was not sure he could stand it. Without preamble, Thranduil rolled him to his stomach and lifted his hips. His arousal pulsated painfully between his legs, twitching and rising up to touch his stomach before lowering again. He closed his eyes, trying to contain the apprehension he felt as warmed oil drizzled between his buttocks. Thranduil's wicked, sinful mouth began teasing his flesh again, bestowing bites and sensual kisses to his back and buttocks. 'Do not beg,' he told himself. 'Just do not beg...'

This loss of control was frightening, and for just a moment, he had a glimmer of what Elrohir must have felt their first time. It was not the first time that Elladan had been taken by another, but it was the first time anyone other than Elrohir had done it, and it was the first time in a very long time.

He whimpered as he was breached by a single slick finger, his entrance reflexively tightening around the single digit. A second was added, then a third, and he was prepared diligently by his kingly lover. A gut-wrenching cry escaped him as he was filled past what he thought he could bear; Thranduil did not stop until he was seated fully inside him. He breathed deeply, concentrating on the feel of the king's hands caressing his back and his deep, hypnotic voice murmuring words of encouragement. Thranduil's hand closed around his length, stroking him slowly, taking his focus away from the burning sensation he felt and placing it on the insistent ache in his loins. As he began to relax, the king began to move, slowly at first but then increasing the pace as desire built between them. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "Oh gods, yes..." He began rocking back to meet Thranduil's thrusts before thrusting forward into his strong hand. Again, Thranduil denied him release, squeezing him about the root as he whimpered in frustration. Finally, when he thought he could bear no more, when he thought he would die of pleasure, Thranduil's hand worked his length quickly and he cried out as he spilt himself upon the bed, his body bowing forward as Thranduil slammed deep inside him and found his own release.

His arms trembled; his body shook with the force of his climax, and he felt the Sindar King gently take him in his arms and lay him upon the bed. He struggled to calm his breathing; his hands were trembling as he entwined his fingers with Thranduil's and allowed the king to hold him tight against his chest. Thranduil's soft, soft lips caressed his ear and his neck, his husky, hypnotic voice murmuring words of praise and appreciation into his ears. His thoughts drifted to his twin as reverie took him, and his body stilled inside Thranduil's protective embrace.

To be continued...

Summary: Elladan finds out his secret has been discovered and he has a suspicion about Legolas; Glorfindel is confronted with an inevitable change in his relationship with Erestor.

Elladan awoke in the middle of the night. Thranduil still held him close, breathing softly near his ear. He shifted and the king awoke instantly.

"Are you well, Master Elladan?" Thranduil asked softly.

"Aye," Elladan answered. "You should take the potion now, you will sleep more soundly this night."

"I suppose I should," Thranduil answered. "And I imagine you are anxious to return to the arms of your brother."

Elladan could not suppress the gasp that escaped him. 'How could he know?' he thought frantically. At first, he thought perhaps Legolas had told him, but then he thought the better of it. Then he wondered if the king had not read his mind without his knowledge, but again, Thranduil did not seem the type.

"I can see you are wondering how it is I know about the nature of your relationship with Elrohir," Thranduil said smoothly, sauntering across the room to retrieve the kettle that contained the herbal concoction. "Legolas did not reveal your secret to me, nor would he even if I had pressed him to do so; he is a good prince and honors his word. I am very perceptive, Elladan, and my powers of perception are not limited to battle tactics and the whereabouts of ungol and yrch." He hung the kettle on a hook inside the fireplace so that the contents of it would become warm again. "I took note of the way you looked at one another when you thought no one else was looking, I have also seen the small displays of affection that went unnoticed by others."

Elladan looked at the bed as his cheeks burned. It was the first time he had been confronted by an elder about his relationship with Elrohir and he was struggling with how to handle it.

"As I said to my son," Thranduil continued. "Love is love, it matters not what unusual forms it may take."

Elladan looked up at Thranduil and answered, "Perhaps not to you, my lord. But it most certainly matters to others."

Thranduil leaned against the mantle, completely comfortable in his nudity. "Then those others are unfortunate, my friend. For anyone who has felt the sort of love you have for Elrohir would surely recognize it and celebrate it, as a love like that should be celebrated."

Elladan smiled at his new friend and nodded. Thranduil gazed upon him, looking so young despite his age, sitting in the middle of his wide bed with the sheets pooled around his waist. "By Elbereth, you are a vision, Elladan," he said softly. "So like your father was at your age."

"You knew my father in his youth?" Elladan asked softly.

"I knew of him, but we were not friends. My father was suspicious of the Noldor, as were all my people after the ruin of Doriath. While we dwelt as exiles together, we kept separate camps and we rarely spoke. I saw him again, in Lindon, after Fëanor's sons raided our haven." He heard the brew begin to boil and folded a thick cloth in his hand, grasping the handle and placing the hot kettle upon an iron trivet. He picked up the small cup and poured the steaming liquid into it, then carried it back to the bed. He sat the cup down and slid back beneath the sheets, pulling the blanket back over him.

"Father rarely speaks of his youth," Elladan said softly.

"It is no doubt painful for him to do so," Thranduil continued. "He lost both his parents, then lost Elros to his choice... You father has borne much in his life in the way of burdens."

Elladan nodded, then took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Drink the potion down as quickly as you can," Elladan said quietly. "It tastes most foul but works very well."

Thranduil nodded and swallowed the hot liquid in one gulp, his expression quickly turning to one of disgust. "That is terrible..." he grumbled as he set the cup down.

Elladan chuckled and kissed his cheek. "I am sorry that we could not find away to disguise the bad taste."

Thranduil slid back underneath the covers and pulled Elladan to him. "Stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Elladan smiled and nodded. "Aye, that I will do." He pressed a soft kiss to the king's lips and laid his head upon Thranduil's shoulder, listening to his slow, rhythmic breathing.

* * * *

Legolas held Elrohir close, his cheek resting upon his friend's hair, Elrohir's back warm against his stomach and chest. It felt good to hold another this way, to sleep beside another and be comforted with their presence. He was not foolish enough to believe that this would ever happen again, and in the end, choices would be made, and Elrohir would choose Elladan. This did not make him sad. For as much as he cared for Elrohir, and for Elladan, he had always known they belonged together and he would never want to come between them. No, he was saving his heart for another, for some unknown being that waited for him too, just as the twins saved their hearts for one another.

He heard the soft click of the latch and heard the door open slowly. He closed his eyes as light entered the room from the corridor, then he felt darkness blanket him again. He blinked, and in the shadows, he saw Elladan. Being only half-elven themselves, the twins would often forget he could see more and hear more than they could. Elladan watched them from the shadows; he was not moving.

Elladan looked at Legolas and Elrohir snuggled beneath the covers. He knew in his heart what had transpired between them; Elrohir had given himself to Legolas, just as Elrohir had given himself to him that afternoon. It stung him to know Elrohir had done this without him present, not because of the act itself, but because of the feeling contained within it. After all, had he not just given himself to Legolas' father? But for all the kindness Thranduil showed him, there was no love there, not like there was between Elrohir and Legolas. It was the affection his brother had for the prince that left him feeling insecure. For a moment, he thought, 'Perhaps this would be better for everyone; perhaps this would spare us pain...' With Legolas, Elrohir had a chance to live a normal life, a life in which they could walk arm and arm, touch and kiss one another without hiding. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of walking away from Elrohir; he did not know if he had the strength to do it.

Slowly, he made his way toward the bed, letting his robe fall to the floor and carefully climbing into the bed beside Legolas. The prince rolled to his back and looked into his eyes; Legolas looked worried.

"Tell me you are not angry with us," Legolas said softly. "I could not bear it if you were..."

Elladan shifted so that he lay atop the prince and gently took his face in his hands. "I am not angry," he answered in a soft whisper. He caressed Legolas' face and watched his eyes close and his breaths grow deeper. "I have something for you, my prince," he murmured, then he took Legolas' mouth with a deep hunger.

Legolas whimpered as Elladan plundered his mouth. He clutched at the Peredhel's shoulders, his strong, archer's fingers digging into the muscle. Elladan straddled him, pinning him to the bed with his weight as he undulated atop him, the Peredhel's tongue sweeping over his own in a deep, hungry kiss. He was utterly awash in his father's scent, in his taste, as Elladan claimed his mouth. He could feel his heart racing in his chest and he began to struggle.

Elladan drew back and breathed deeply, then stared into Legolas' wide eyes.

"Let me up," Legolas said in a breathless whisper.

"Did you not like my present?" he asked softly.

Legolas closed his eyes, fighting the stinging sensation that heralded tears. "I said, let me up, Elladan..."

"Very well."

Elladan rolled to the side and Legolas quickly exited the bed. Elrohir awoke and rubbed his face.

"Where are you going, Legolas?" he asked groggily.

"It is time I returned to my room," Legolas answered quietly as he pulled on his robe.

"What? Why?" Elrohir asked confusedly, then cast a glance toward his twin.

"Good night, Elrohir," he said softly, bending over and giving his friend a kiss upon the forehead. "I will see the two of you at the morning meal." He left quickly, not giving Elladan a chance to kiss him again, nor Elrohir a chance to protest.

Elrohir turned to his twin. "What did you do, Elladan? Why did he leave?"

Elladan laid back and drew Elrohir into his arms. "Nothing. I kissed him, 'tis all. I think he wanted to give us time alone."

"You smell like Thranduil," Elrohir murmured. Suddenly, the truth of the matter sank in. He sat up abruptly and barked at his twin. "You kissed him after lying with his father? You smell like him, you probably taste like him... How could you do that, Elladan?"

"I was not thinking..." Elladan began.

"Do not lie to me..." Elrohir growled.

"I was testing a suspicion," Elladan answered. "I am not sure if I am right or wrong, but I will apologize on the morrow in either case." He pulled Elrohir back into his arms. "Come, brother, do not be angry with me..."

Elrohir reluctantly laid his head upon Elladan's chest and closed his eyes, only wanting to find reverie again.

* * * *

Legolas quickly made his way through the corridors of his home. He closed the door to his bedchamber behind him and locked it, and then he fell upon the bed and struggled to regain his composure. He was trembling and suddenly felt cold. Quickly, he climbed beneath the covers and pulled them to his chin. He began recalling the names of all the Sindar nobles, reciting them in alphabetical order. He had done this exercise often as a youngster, when his nerves needed calming. The slow, methodical chanting of the names of his ancestors began to calm his racing heart, and he continued until reverie took him again, the name of his grandfather dying upon his lips as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * * *

Glorfindel blinked as he returned from reverie. He absently noted that the potion the twins had administered worked toward an added benefit; the visions Sauron had planted in his mind during their confrontation in Eregion were gone. Glimpses of those visions had often surfaced in his dreams; though not as vividly as they had earlier on. His dreams last night were of happy days in Aman, days spent swimming in the ocean and climbing friendly trees. A satisfied smile curved his lips and he began to roll over, only to find himself trapped, pinned against the bed under his lover's weight.

Erestor slept soundly, it was much needed rest after his wounding and the torment of the visions. He breathed slowly, his chest rising and falling, his gently pursed lips resting upon his beloved's shoulder. He felt Glorfindel move beneath him and he mumbled, snuggling closer and holding his beloved possessively. "I love you..." he mumbled from that place half way between waking and dreaming.

Glorfindel felt a catch in his chest. Erestor's words were unclear, but he had a suspicion of what was said. They had danced around it since their relationship had taken on this new dimension. Of course, he had often said he loved Erestor, and Erestor had said that he loved him as well. However, this time was different. This was not love born of familiarity or friendship. This was not love born of duty. This was a different kind of love; one he had not had experience with before. This kind of love frightened him and shook him to his core.

Erestor murmured again and Glorfindel felt his lover stir upon his back before pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade then rising off his back. Erestor gripped his shoulder and encouraged him to roll to his back, then settled himself upon his chest.

"I adore sleeping on you," Erestor mumbled sleepily. "Strange that something so hard can be so comfortable..."

Glorfindel smiled wearily, pushing away the fear his lover's words had sparked inside him. "Lucky for me, you are not so heavy," he answered in as playful a manner as he could muster.

Erestor chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lover's chest. "I find myself to be very hungry," he murmured.

"'Tis no wonder," Glorfindel answered. "What with how you exerted yourself last night."

Erestor sat up and caressed Glorfindel's face. "How fare you this morning, my lion?"

"I am fine, Erestor," Glorfindel answered with a smile. "And I am hungry, like you."

"Shall we emerge and find our way to Thranduil's dining hall? I think being on our feet for awhile will do us some good."

"Agreed. But first, you must let me out of the bed," Glorfindel answered with a wolfish grin.

"You are the one who said you liked it when I was demanding and I took charge."

Glorfindel took Erestor's face in his hands as he chuckled. He then drew his lover into a kiss before answering. "Aye, I did indeed..."

Erestor smiled. Glorfindel had never seen Erestor look so beautiful; his lover's eyes glistened with happiness. "Come, my raven, let us rejoin the land of the living..."

They rose from the bed and dressed, then found a chambermaid to direct them toward the dining hall.

To be continued...

Summary: Elrohir confronts Elladan; Elladan and Legolas talk.

"What exactly is this suspicion you needed confirmed last night?" Elrohir asked his twin as he braided his hair.

"I have found myself wondering why our lovely prince does not have someone he calls his own," Elladan called from his adjoining room. "I thought perhaps he suffered from a love as unusual as ours..." Elladan entered Elrohir's room, fumbling with the clasps on the loaned tunic.

Elrohir rose from his seat and turned to face his twin. "I am not sure I understand you, brother," he answered with concern.

"Elrohir, of all people you should understand me perfectly. We both know that sometimes love chooses unusual mates for our hearts. We are proof of that. Father was proof of that..."

"We do not know the truth about father, Elladan," Elrohir cautioned. "You are only guessing because of part of a letter you found, one that we have not seen the full matter of."

Elladan shrugged. "My intuition tells me what I believe, Elrohir. Besides, what does it matter if father loved Elros as you and I love one another? Are you ashamed of our love?"

Elrohir batted Elladan's hands away and worked the intricate clasps upon his twin's tunic. "No, of course I am not. But we both know that not everyone feels the same way. Besides, father has never spoken of it, and I think it improper to make assumptions without knowing all there is to know. What has this to do with Legolas?"

"Our prince keeps his heart for someone. He says he knows not who, but I suspect in truth, he does."

Elrohir's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Elladan. Do not..."

"Do not what? Help him see that his fear is without reason? Help him find love as we have?"

"You know not what you do. You cannot meddle in the lives of others this way, Elladan. This could be very painful to him. Tell me that the king did not ask you to do this..."

"No! No...of course he did not. However, he does know about us." Elladan changed the subject.

"What? Oh, sweet Elbereth..." Elrohir buried his face in his hands.

Elladan placed his hands on Elrohir's shoulders. "Have no fear, my love. He knows and sees no harm in it. He understands, Elrohir, and has promised to keep our secret safe."

"How does he know? Did you tell him?"

"Of course not! I would never tell a living soul about us. Perhaps he knows in the same way Legolas did; perhaps our Sindar kin have far greater powers of intuition than any suspect."

"Elladan, promise me that you will not meddle in whatever may be between Legolas and his father. If there is anything beyond a father-son bond, then it is not for us to pry."

Elladan grumbled then nodded. "Aye, I promise. I could be wrong, I probably am."

"Legolas is our dear friend, I would not have that change because of your 'intuition'..."

"Agreed. I will apologize for my rash actions last night and leave it at that."

"Thank you..." Elrohir answered softly.

Elladan took Elrohir into his arms and held him close. "I love you, Elrohir. You are my heart; you are my life. I could never do anything to hurt you..."

"I love you, Elladan," Elrohir answered. "I know you would never hurt me, nor would I hurt you."

Elladan took Elrohir's face in his hands. "You know that I would give you anything in my power, yes?"

Elrohir smiled. "Aye, I do. And I would do the same."

Elladan kissed Elrohir softly upon the lips. "Come, my beauty. Let us join our friends for the morning meal."

"Did you remember to unmake your bed?" Elrohir asked quietly.

Elladan's eyes widened and he dashed into then next room. Elrohir chuckled and shook his head as he waited for his twin to return.

"It seems I have misplaced my wits this morning," Elladan grumbled as he returned. "It would be awkward to explain why your bed is mussed and mine is not..."

"Perhaps you are delirious with hunger, my brother..." Elrohir teased.

"Perhaps," Elladan answered with a smile. "Come, let us depart..."

Elrohir nodded and followed his twin out of his bedchamber.

* * * *

As they strolled slowly down the hall, Glorfindel and Erestor met up with the twins. The four companions entered the dining hall to find guests coming and going at will. Thranduil sat at the head of the table, dressed in his courtly attire: a tunic and leggings in colors of green and tan, with an elaborate velvet robe overlying them. His hair was braided in formal fashion, his flaxen mane crowned with a mithril circlet containing spring foliage. Legolas sat at his side, dressed in warrior's garb.

Elladan took a seat beside Legolas with Elrohir next to him, as Glorfindel and Erestor sat on the king's left, with Glorfindel next to Thranduil.

"How fare my guests this morning?" Thranduil asked smoothly. "Are you well rested and mending with good speed?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Our thanks to you, my lord, for your gracious hospitality and care. We should not burden you too much longer."

Thranduil smiled. "You are no burden, my friends. However, I am aware of your urgent mission to the Golden Wood, and would not delay you more than necessary. As soon as you are given leave to go, you shall have escort."

"And whom will give us this leave?" Erestor asked.

"We will," the twins answered in unison.

"And I will provide escort," Legolas finished.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Well, that is settled then. Erestor, we are at the mercy of our pupils and the good prince."

Erestor smiled, then raised his glass. "And we shall serve accordingly."

The meal passed with friendly talk of goings on in Imladris and the eastern lands, with things turning more serious as Thranduil conferred with Glorfindel and company in regards to the route they should take upon leaving Mirkwood. As the gathering adjourned and the king rose to make his way toward council chambers, he touched Elladan upon the shoulder.

"My thanks to you, Elladan. My dreams were peaceful last night."

Elladan smiled and bowed his head. "I am glad to hear it, my lord."

Thranduil smiled and nodded, then turned and departed the dining hall. Elladan chatted with Erestor, watching Legolas and Elrohir out of the corner of his eye. The prince was unusually solemn, and the time for his apology had come. He excused himself, leaving Glorfindel and Erestor's company and approaching the prince.

"Legolas? Might I have a word?" Elrohir touched Legolas upon the arm and left him alone with his twin. "Can we walk out of doors?"

Legolas nodded and led Elladan toward the secret gardens.

"The prince seems to have a weight upon his soul," Erestor remarked softly.

"Aye," Elrohir answered. "I believe it has to do with the upcoming journey. These woods are dangerous and he takes our safety as his personal duty. Come, I think a visit to Mirkwood's thermal pools would do the both of you quite a bit of good."

Glorfindel and Erestor rose from their chairs and followed Elrohir toward the public baths.

* * * *

"What is it you would say to me, Elladan?" Legolas asked softly as they entered the private gardens.

"I want to apologize to you for my actions last night," Elladan answered as Legolas guided him to a low bench. "It was insensitive of me to do what I did, considering..."

"Where you had just come from..." Legolas finished for him.

"Aye. I gave no thought to how that would make you feel. I only gave thought to what I wanted..."

"Which was to separate Elrohir and me."

"No..."

"Elladan, we are friends, the three of us. I know Elrohir's heart belongs to you, and only to you. He loves me, this is true, but it is a love that comes from friendship and affection, not a love that is meant to last through the ages. That love is only for you."

"You love him, yes?"

"Aye, I do. But I love you as well, and in the same way. It is true that Elrohir and I are a bit closer than you and I are, but I think that is because you and I are too much alike."

Elladan smiled. "We are. You are as fiercely protective of those you love as I am. I had thought that perhaps you were unhappy about my liaison with your father..."

Legolas laughed. "Elladan, my father is more than capable of defending himself, he does not need me for that. Besides, if anyone was to need defending, it would be you, not him."

Elladan chuckled. "True."

"I only went to Elrohir because I sensed he was troubled about your being with my father. I sensed he did not want to be alone."

"In my single minded way, I did not see that my laying with your father would trouble Elrohir so. He and I have both had other lovers in the past; but always it was with one another's consent. I did not ask Elrohir if he approved, I merely told him what I wanted. Being Elrohir, he did not refuse me. It was selfish, I recognize this now."

"But you are forgiven, yes?"

"Of course, Elrohir never withholds forgiveness." Elladan took Legolas' hand in his own. "Tell me something, Legolas..."

"Yes?"

"Who is it that you keep your heart for?"

"I know not..."

"Are you sure? You know all the secrets that Elrohir and I share. Would you withhold from us, who have been so forthcoming with you?"

"I withhold nothing. I do not know to whom my heart will belong, I have yet to meet them. Why do you say such a thing?"

"Something in your eyes made me think that there was more to this than would seem to be. I sensed that you harbored a secret. Perhaps it is buried so deep that even you do not see it?"

"I hold no secret from you, Elladan."

"Very well. I want you to know that you can trust Elrohir and me with anything you may feel. We would never betray your confidence, nor pass judgement."

"I know this," Legolas answered softly.

"We are still friends, yes?"

"Of course..."

Elladan and Legolas embraced, and Elladan bestowed a gentle kiss upon Legolas' lips. He caressed the prince's face with his fingertips, admiring the way his skin warmed to his touch, the way his lips parted and curved into a smile, the way his eyes fluttered shut.

"What a rare beauty you possess," he whispered. "You are a gift to us, Legolas..."

"It is I who has been given a gift, the gift of your friendship and love..."

Elladan kissed him again, softly, the tip of his tongue gently playing about the prince's mouth.

"I have patrol..." Legolas whispered as they broke their kiss.

"I would not keep you from your duty, though I would wish to hold you longer." He released Legolas and rose, extending his hand.

Legolas smiled and took Elladan's hand, then they walked from the gardens together.

To be continued...

Summary: The travelers depart; Elladan has a realization; Glorfindel and Erestor spend some quality time and so do the twins.

The morning was bright as the travelers met in the courtyard outside the caves. Glorfindel checked their supplies before mounting without difficulty, and Elladan sat astride his horse watching Legolas say farewell to his father. Something about the two nagged him. Thranduil was, in all respects, a fine father. He had raised his son well, taught him duty and nobility, and personally trained him to be an excellent warrior. One look at the two of them proved how proud Thranduil was of his son and how much he loved him. Legolas was proud of his father as well and loyal beyond question.

While Elladan's suspicions were difficult to explain, they had not been extinguished by Legolas' assurances that he had yet to find his heart's mate. Something in Legolas' eyes as he gazed upon his father told him otherwise. The look wasn't one of want or desire, nor one of guilt or hidden secrets... It was a look of love that he had only seen from one other before; it was a look that spoke of a love so profound, so deep, that not even death would break it. Yes, there was only one who had that same look in his eye, and that look was the one Elrohir gave him. 'This is a love that transcends the physical,' Elladan mused. 'He loves Thranduil as I love Elrohir, only he does not understand it.'

"Elladan?"

His twin's voice broke his reverie, and he turned to face Elrohir, a misty smile upon his face.

"What is it?"

Elladan patted his twin on the shoulder. "I was wrong, Elrohir, about Legolas," he whispered.

Elrohir smiled. "So you will interfere no more?"

"I will interfere no more."

"Promise?"

"I swear it."

"Good."

Elladan turned to look at Legolas and his father. Thranduil embraced him, clasping his son tight to his chest as a smile curved his lips. Legolas' fingers dug into the thick robe his father wore; his face nestled in Thranduil's flaxen hair. 'Oh you do not know it, my prince' Elladan thought as a wistful smile curved his lips. 'But he does. He feels the bond and has made peace with it.'

"Be careful, my son," Thranduil said softly. "And return as quickly as you may. I have been without your gentle council for far too long as of late."

Legolas smiled. "I will, father. I have missed you and missed my home."

Legolas pulled back and Thranduil caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. "The Valar blessed me the day you were born. Never have I felt so undeserving of another's love."

Legolas smiled. "Stop talking that way... you know it is bad luck."

"Of course. See? I need you to remind me of these things. Go on, I will look for your return."

"Ten risings of Ithil!" Legolas called as he ran down the stairs.

"Nine settings of Anor!" Thranduil answered with a smile. "May the Valar grant you speed and safe passage!"

Legolas swung onto his mare's back and gave the signal to depart. They raised their hands in farewell, and Elladan cast a smile back over his shoulder to the king. Thranduil covered his heart with his hand and bowed his head, his lips curved into a smile.

The courtyard was filled with the clatter of hooves as the party departed.

* * * *

Heavy mist blanketed the gently rolling hills of the Vales of the Anduin. The tributary of the Gladden River lay before them, glistening in the early dawn light. Legolas' eyes scanned the valley floor, his ears listening for signs of danger. Glorfindel also perused their surroundings; his warrior's senses seeking any sign that they were being watched. Glorfindel looked at Erestor and nodded. Erestor then turned to the twins and did the same. Elladan and Elrohir each leaned over, bestowing a gentle kiss to Legolas' cheeks, saying their silent farewell as they eased their mounts into the open. Legolas' guard had their bows at the ready, in case trouble they had not sensed lie in wait.

'Two more days,' Legolas thought. 'They have but a two day ride until they are under the lady's protection. Valar keep them until then...'

They watched until the travelers disappeared into the mist, then stayed until they could hear them no longer. Glorfindel had assured him that the guards of the eastern fences of Lórien would be within a day's ride and that they would be fine. Legolas prayed he was right, as he reluctantly signaled to his regiment to turn toward home.

They crossed the low point of the river, then reached the trees in little time. Once they were no longer in the open, Erestor sighed in relief. 'At least we will encounter no more spiders,' he thought. He looked forward to seeing Lórien again, with its towering Mellyrn and soft lights. He looked forward to sleeping under the stars and bathing in clear running brooks. So much of the great wood had been changed when Dol Guldur was built, and now the shadow was spreading again. Erestor was determined to speak with Galadriel and Celeborn about it; something had to be done. While the danger of Mirkwood was behind them, they were still not entirely safe. He focused his thoughts on the road ahead, staying alert to any danger they might encounter.

* * * *

In less than two days time, they arrived in Caras Galadhon. Arwen ran forward and laughed as her brothers embraced her, tickling her affectionately. Erestor handed his horse to one of the grooms and followed Haldir toward the lord and lady's flet with Glorfindel in tow. The twins would spend time with their sister before joining their grandparents for the evening meal. The letter to Galadriel and Celeborn was still in his pack, unopened and bearing the seal of Imladris upon it; he would be glad when it was delivered. Had they been ambushed, had the letter been taken, things would swiftly head toward a disastrous end. Prudence was needed now, prudence and careful planning. These were dangerous times for rash action.

The meeting with the Lord and Lady of the Wood went as expected, and after lengthy conversation, including their misadventure that was the cause of their delayed arrival, Glorfindel and Erestor were shown to their talan. Glorfindel was amused that Galadriel had seen to it that they were housed together and in a very private location. Erestor was not so much amused as embarrassed.

"How have I ended up with such a prude for a lover?" Glorfindel teased, as Erestor scrambled through the trap door.

"It is obvious that the lady thinks we will be engaged in loud and lascivious acts, or she would not have put us so far out of the way," Erestor grumbled.

Glorfindel grabbed Erestor and roughly pulled him close. "Ah, but we will, my raven... we will be involved in loud and lascivious acts... One cannot fault the lady for being wise."

Erestor struggled in Glorfindel's grasp. The Elda held him tight about the waist, and as he writhed against him, he felt Glorfindel's desire stir against his backside. "Glorfindel! Can you think of nothing else?"

"Do you expect me to, looking the way you do? It has been ages since I have touched you..." he murmured against Erestor's ear.

"Ages?" he scoffed. "It has been but eight days..."

"Eight days, eight months, it is all the same to me, my dark beauty."

As Glorfindel's tongue flicked against his ear, Erestor stilled, a shuddering gasp escaping his lips.

"Do you remember the last time I held you thusly?" Glorfindel purred into Erestor's ear, the Elda's hands sliding in a delicious rhythm over his hips and thighs.

"No..." He lied. He remembered perfectly well... it was the night of Legolas' arrival in Imladris.

"You stood on the edge of the dance floor, that enticing look of boredom on your face. You are always so alluring when you are bored, Erestor." A nip to his earlobe caused him to whimper and arch slightly against his lover. "I had just come in from patrol and you were harassing me about whether or not I had bathed..."

A trembling, "Oh..." escaped his lips.

"The temptation to shove you into the cloak closet and take you then and there was almost insurmountable... Nothing makes me want you more than when you feign indifference..."

A shudder wracked his frame as Glorfindel's neatly trimmed nails raked his thighs through the suede of his riding pants. His hands flew behind him, grasping Glorfindel's buttocks and pulling him roughly against him. His lover chuckled, the deep, sensual rumble emitting from his chest causing Erestor's length to swell inside his too confining leggings. "Valar, yes," Erestor whispered, as Glorfindel pulled his braid aside and sunk his teeth into his neck, marking him. He growled low as he felt the blood rise and pool beneath the surface of his skin, his arousal throbbing painfully and rapidly, encased in its suede prison.

"You enjoy this..." he rasped. "You enjoy reducing me to my most base emotions..."

"That I do..." Glorfindel purred as he nipped the point of Erestor's ear, causing his lover to whimper with need. "For it is when you are debauched that I feel most enslaved... and that is what you want, is it not?"

Erestor shoved his backside into Glorfindel's groin, the feel of his lover's arousal pressing into him nearly causing him to spend on the spot. He groaned as Glorfindel tore his tunic open, buttons popped and clattered to the floor as Glorfindel clutched at his chest.

"I... I do not know what I want anymore..." he whispered hoarsely. He nearly wept as Glorfindel's hand slid inside his leggings, taking his arousal and squeezing until he thought he would faint.

"Oh, I think you do..." Glorfindel purred. "And you are dying to give it to me..."

Erestor moaned as his lover jerked his leggings down, and he struggled to free himself of both the cumbersome suede and his boots. As he kicked them free, he turned, his breath catching as he watched his lover disrobe.

Glorfindel took his clothes off slowly, each clasp, each tie taking an eternity. Soon, the Elda stood before him, his skin flushed with passion, his arousal standing proud against his thigh. He watched as Glorfindel crooked his finger, and without hesitation, he stepped forward and into his love's arms. Glorfindel held Erestor's wrists behind his back, his other hand in his raven hair.

"Do what you want," Erestor murmured. "All I have is yours to take anyway..."

"And what do you want of me in return?" Glorfindel whispered against his lips.

"Everything."

Glorfindel consumed his mouth with unbridled passion, stealing his breath as he had already stolen his heart. Erestor yielded and withheld nothing, even as his beloved took him roughly. As he lay beneath him, feeling his lion's weight upon him, feeling his warm breath caressing his cheek, he smiled. It was just as Glorfindel had said, he was debauched and his lover was enslaved. If he could not have love yet, this would do.

No doubt he would be a little sore, but Glorfindel had not caused him harm; his lion would never do that. He was covered in love bites and small bruises where the warrior's strong fingers had clutched at his flesh. All but one he was confident he could hide from prying eyes. 'This is where we belong,' he mused. 'Entangled with one another.'

He wondered how long it would take Glorfindel to come around. How many years would he have to wait before hearing his lover say the words he longed to hear? 'It has been years uncounted already that I have loved him,' he thought. 'What is a few more?'

He closed his eyes, a smile still playing upon his lips as Anor began to sink below the mountains. It would soon be time for them to rise and bathe before spending the night making polite conversation with the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Erestor thought he should stop and pick some flowers for Galadriel, as a show of thanks for her wise choice in their lodgings.

* * * *

The twins and their sister sat upon Elladan's bed. Elrohir braided his brother's hair as Arwen braided his own. It was something they had often done growing up together, the simple act creating an air of comfort and silent understanding between them. Arwen knew of their love for each other, though they did not know she was aware of it. She simply smiled and played the innocent sister for them; none were the wiser and all were the happier for it.

"I have missed the two of you," Arwen said quietly.

"We do not spend enough time together anymore," Elrohir answered.

"The yngyl must have been very frightening," she said quietly.

"Aye. Never have I seen such a hideous thing," Elladan answered, a shiver of disgust making his shoulders tremble.

"I am glad Erestor and Glorfindel recovered so quickly. It would be a terrible blow to all of us to lose them, especially to father," she continued.

Several more minutes passed and she placed a jeweled clip in Elrohir's hair, securing the final braid in place. She leaned forward, her hands upon her elder brother's shoulders as she placed a kiss upon his cheek. "I must dress for the evening, you know how formal the gatherings here are..."

Elrohir smiled at his sister and she squeezed his hand, she then leaned forward and kissed Elladan upon the forehead. "I will see the two of you later," she said softly, before smiling over her shoulder and disappearing through the door.

Elladan moved to rise from the bed to change into the formal robes his grandparents always kept for them, when Elrohir caught his hand. He turned and smiled at his twin.

"Kiss me," Elrohir said softly.

Elladan leaned forward and kissed his twin's lips gently, Elrohir's soft sigh raising gooseflesh upon his neck. They parted and his twin whispered, "Again..." against his lips. He smiled and complied; he never refused Elrohir. He sank back down to the bed, his hands carefully sliding to the back of Elrohir's neck, taking care not to disturb Arwen's work. They had already bathed; Elrohir smelled like heather and lilac and his hair gleamed in the waning sunlight that filtered through the treetops. Elrohir's hands were resting on his shoulders and they slid lower, pulling him closer. He savored the taste of his beloved, recalling the many days he had been too afraid to do so.

"I love you, Elrohir," he whispered against the curve of his twin's ear.

He felt his brother smile against his neck and heard him answer, "I love you, Elladan..."

"I want to make love to you," Elladan continued, "but we have not the time for me to do it properly."

"We will later..." Elrohir answered.

"Later is not soon enough..." Elladan returned. He untied the linen nightshirt that Elrohir had donned after their bath, his fingers seeking his twin's warm flesh. "Just a taste," he whispered. "We have time for just a taste..."

Elrohir sighed and leaned back against his hands as Elladan's lips made a thorough perusal of his exposed chest and abdomen. A musical sigh left his lips as his twin pressed his face to his groin, taking his stirring length into his mouth. He sank to his elbows, spreading his legs and draping them over Elladan's shoulders, being careful not to muss his twin's hair. He arched and moaned as Elladan pleasured him, his twin's mouth thoroughly consuming every inch of his flesh. He bit his lip as his climax came, stifling the cry that had built in his throat. His body bowed against his beloved, Elladan's hands gripping his hips as he spilled down his twin's throat.

Panting and smiling, he opened his eyes, looking down at the top of his twin's head. Elladan lapped at him like a cat drinking milk, long smooth strokes of his tongue removing any trace of his seed. Each stroke sent tremors racing through him, and he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. He remembered the first time they had joined thusly, hidden in the hayloft at midnight. He had been so afraid, but utterly unable to do anything else. Their love had confused him, evolving from deep sibling love and understanding to something more. He wondered what would have become of him if Elladan had not been so bold. He was glad that his most beloved elder twin, the one he trusted above all others, was the one to initiate him into this magical dimension.

His legs slipped from Elladan's shoulders and he tilted his head back, exposing his neck to his love's full lips. "Thank you, my love," he whispered.

"Mmm... my pleasure," was Elladan's answer.

"But what of you?"

"I think I will savor the ache in my loins, we will have time enough after the gathering..."

"Such self-control..." Elrohir mused with a smile.

"You say that now." Elladan winked.

Elladan pulled his twin to his feet and they embraced. He laced Elrohir's shirt closed and turned him toward the door, giving his backside a playful swat. "Now, off with you. We both need to dress or we will be late."

Elrohir winked over his shoulder and departed his brother's room, quietly making his way to his own.

To be continued...

Summary: Glorfindel thinks about his lover; Aragorn returns from the wild with news; the twins take comfort; Glorfindel is paid a visit.

Glorfindel sat back in one of the chairs next to the hearth. The fire warmed his cozy office, casting a flickering orange glow in the dim winter morning. It had been a year since he and Erestor had forgone all other lovers, and this was the longest time he had been with only one mate. As he sipped his tea, he thought about all the things that had transpired in the past year.

They had their share of arguments, plenty in fact; it seemed arguing was something they did exceedingly well. Of course, lovemaking was something they had done exceedingly well also. A smile curved his lips as he remembered the most undignified squeak Erestor had uttered in the bath that morning, and then he purred to himself as he remembered the most sensual moans that had followed it.

He conjured the image of his lover in his mind, clutching the washbasin, his face still damp from cleansing; his head hung low and raven hair shrouding his face as surrendered himself to his lover's wet embrace. Glorfindel could still taste him upon his palate, still smell him, the dusky scent of his sex that lingered in the ebony down that was nestled at the base of his perfect length. "I must really do that more often," he whispered to himself with a smile.

A knock upon his door broke his reverie and he rose from his chair, calling for his guest to enter. Elrohir came through the door with Aragorn in tow, and Glorfindel motioned to them to step forward.

"Well met, my friend," Glorfindel said as he embraced Aragorn.

"Well met indeed, Lord Glorfindel," Aragorn answered.

"It is good to have you home again. What news from the north?"

"Aside from the occasional orch raids, all is quiet," Aragorn answered, taking a seat as was bidden.

Glorfindel shook his head as he rounded his desk. "We kill twenty, and thirty more replace them."

Elrohir sat down as well. "There is news from the east," he said softly.

"I trust our good friends in Mirkwood are holding their own?" Glorfindel answered.

Elrohir shook his head. "Aye, they do, but it is hard going. All the lands to the east are falling under dark skies. There is talk that the Dark Lord is rebuilding his fortress. The Rangers of Ithilien have seen Haradrim traveling in their realm."

"Gondor is in chaos," Aragorn added. "With the loss of the king, Gondor's defenses are weakened."

Glorfindel nodded. Elrohir continued, "The Ruling Steward tries to hold Mordor at bay, but everyday, the Dark Lord's armies grow stronger."

"We are not ready to confront him in open warfare," Glorfindel answered.

"But would it not be best to strike before he is fully prepared and garrisoned?" Aragorn asked.

"We do not have the numbers," Glorfindel answered.

"What of the men of Rohan? And the Grey Company, and our own..."

Glorfindel put up his hand, silencing Elrohir. "I know you fear for the people of Gondor. But all the armies of Rohan and Gondor put together could not defeat the Dark Lord in open warfare, not as long as he holds sway over the Nine. As for our own forces, they are too few in number, we would have to empty the valley. King Thranduil can spare no warriors, nor can Lord Celeborn. We are not as mighty a force as we once were, too many have sailed." He leaned forward, folding his hands upon his desk. "Next spring, the White Council meets. We will discuss then how best to proceed. For now, we must be silent and watch, and wait."

Aragorn sighed and looked at his lap. "I fear Gondor will fall..."

"It might," Glorfindel answered. "And if that is to be, neither you nor I can stop it."

Elrohir tapped Aragorn's arm and motioned toward the door. They rose and Aragorn bowed his head. "My thanks, Lord Glorfindel, for your time and wise council."

"I am sorry that it was not what you desired to hear, my friend."

Elrohir smiled at him as he closed the door, and Glorfindel placed his head in his hands, his fingers clutching at his braids.

* * * *

Elladan looked up from his book as Elrohir entered his room. He placed the book face down upon the bedside table and held out his arms to his twin. "He refused..."

"Aye. I knew he would, but Aragorn insisted. I only hope he does nothing rash. I would not put it past him to ride to the Black Gate and challenge the Dark Lord directly." He sat upon the bed and leaned into his twin's arms. "I am tired."

"It was a long ride," Elladan answered. "I am tired as well. I feel sympathy for Aragorn, it is his people, his birthright that hangs in the balance now..."

"The news from Mirkwood is not good."

"What? Are our friends in danger?"

Elrohir shook his head. "No more than usual, I suppose. But the shadow spreads, the Úlairi patrol the skies..."

"Our friends will prevail. I only wish we could offer more aid." Elladan stroked Elrohir's hair gently as he spoke. "Come, lie beside me, brother. Take rest in my arms like you did when we were young."

Elrohir kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his tunic, tossing it upon a chair as he curled up next to his twin. Elladan stroked his hair and his arms through the soft silk of his undershirt. He longed to do more, but that was impossible in their father's house. He closed his eyes, focusing on the soft rhythm of Elrohir's breathing and found reverie instead.

* * * *

Aragorn lay upon a chaise, gazing upon the fresco of his ancestors. It was a heavy weight, knowing that he was heir to a kingdom, descended from a line of men who had brought both honor and shame to the world of men. He hoped he did not possess the same arrogance that was Isildur's fall, and that he did possess the same strength and honor that was Elendil's fame.

"You worry too much."

Arwen's deep, silky voice disrupted his musings. He sat up and smiled at her as she perched upon the edge of the chaise.

"It will give you wrinkles." She smiled as she traced a crease in his brow. "You are far too young for such things."

"I missed you," he said softly.

"And I missed you, Estel," she answered as he took her hand between his.

"I wish I could kiss you," he returned.

She smiled. "So do I, but you must live to take the throne, and father would most likely prevent that should he find us doing such a thing."

He smiled and laughed softly. "Aye, he would. As would your brothers, I fear."

"I can handle my brothers," she answered teasingly. "Their bark is worse than their bite, at least where I am concerned." She looked at him then continued, "The day will come when you have fulfilled your destiny, and I will be there by your side to celebrate it."

"The gods have blessed me, to have the faith of the Evenstar..."

"Your mother said she was blessed as well, to have given birth to such a son. It is good to have you home, Estel." She rose and leaned over, bestowing a kiss upon his forehead before leaving him to his meditations.

* * * *

Erestor groaned as he realized he had made the exact same mistake in his calculations three times in a row. He had been distracted all morning. Glorfindel's surprise attack in the bath had disrupted his routine, albeit in a most pleasing way, and now he was utterly unable to focus upon his work. 'I wonder how he would take it if I were to walk into his office, pull his leggings around his ankles and torment him as he did me this morning?' he mused. A smile curved his lips. His lover had left without seeking reciprocity... Glorfindel had an amazing amount of self-discipline.

Since their experience in Mirkwood, things had changed somewhat between them. Glorfindel was more often the one who took control. While this was not entirely dissatisfying, it left Erestor feeling at a bit of a disadvantage. Even when Glorfindel gave himself, he did so in such a way that Erestor could only yield to his overwhelming desire and presence.

Glorfindel was a giving and consummate lover; skilled beyond the measure of any that came before him and insatiable in his desire and appetite. Erestor imagined there were many that would cuff him for even voicing the smallest of complaints, and he knew that there were very many lined up behind him, hoping for a shot at winning the famed Balrog Slayer's talents.

"There is no point in continuing here," he said aloud to himself. "I cannot concentrate and I am wasting time." He closed his ledger and stored his writing implements, then borrowed Lindir's winter cloak and made for his lover's office.

* * * *

Glorfindel sat with his head in his hands, his fingers pulling fretfully upon his braids. A dark storm cloud loomed overhead and the flames jumped and sputtered with the wind.

Glorfindel looked up into the dim light to see a hooded, cloaked figure standing in his doorway. He guessed that it was Erestor, but it was unlike Erestor to act so strangely. "Erestor?" he said softly, but the figure did not reply, it only moved toward him with predatory grace. He rose from his chair, only to be pushed back down in it, the figure's features hidden behind the overlarge hood.

A slip of rope appeared from inside one of the figure's sleeves and he moved to rise again. The figure leaned over him, pinning his wrists to the arms of the chair as it shook its head. The familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla drifted into his nostrils and he smiled. It was indeed his lover. He relaxed and watched with fascination as his lover tied his wrists to the arms of his chair, then produced more rope, tying his ankles to the legs. As his lover went about his work, he said not a word; the cloak still shielded his face, though a slip of raven hair protruded from beneath.

Glorfindel felt the tie to his leggings pop free and he shivered; the shiver turning to a full-blown shake, as a leather gloved hand reached between his legs. He groaned and leaned his head against the back of the chair, struggling to roll his hips forward into his lover's embrace. He writhed in the gloved hand, lifting his hips as his lover pulled his leggings down to his knees.

"Ah, gods!" he groaned as his lover took his rapidly swelling length into his mouth, the dark-cloaked head beginning to bob up and down quickly. He had no time to adjust, no time to savor the slow build of passion. Instead, it roared forth as he arched and cried out, his body tightening excruciatingly as his seed spilled down his lover's throat.

The damp heat in his groin spread, the soft wool of the cloak teasing his trembling thighs as his lover's mouth traveled lower, not content with merely bringing one climax. His thighs were shoved apart and a slick tongue invaded his body as he cried out again, writhing and wriggling against the warm mouth. Still the cloak shielded his lover, trapping the heat of their bodies, teasing him relentlessly with its whispering caresses. He was aroused again, and drank from a second time, this climax coming even more forcefully than the first. He bit his lip as a soft knock fell upon the locked door, but his lover did not pause in his work. He stifled the cry of release, swallowing it as he came a second time, then collapsed back into the chair.

His chest heaved as he panted, his heart hammered inside his chest. He was trembling from head to toe, barely registering his lover's silent request to raise his hips as his leggings were pulled back up and tied closed. He closed his eyes, his face turned up, lips parted in silent request for a kiss from his lover before he departed. When none came, he opened his eyes. He found his limbs untied and the room empty.

"Thank you, my love..." he whispered to the empty room, almost not believing his own words. He reveled in the afterglow of his spent desire for long moments, before rising and cleansing himself in the private bath off his office.

To be continued...

Summary: Glorfindel makes a disturbing discovery; Thranduil fights for Legolas' life.

Glorfindel entered Erestor's chambers without knocking, as was his want. His lover was relaxing in a chair by the fire, a book open upon his lap. He smiled wolfishly and crossed the room, kneeling between Erestor's legs and taking the book away.

"What is the cause of such a lascivious grin?" Erestor asked, amused.

"Oh, I think you know, good counselor."

"Do I?"

Glorfindel unbuttoned Erestor's tunic and pressed his mouth to his lover's stomach. Erestor's purr of delight caused a smile to curve his lips. "You bathed again? Such a fussy one about cleanliness..."

"I have not bathed," Erestor whispered.

"You smell like Sandalwood," Glorfindel murmured...

"I have smelled like Sandalwood all day," Erestor answered.

Glorfindel sat back quickly and gazed at his lover. "No," he answered, "You smelled like cinnamon and vanilla..."

"No..." Erestor smiled. "I changed bath oil this morning, do you not remember? Perhaps you were too distracted to notice." He winked evilly. "Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel swallowed, feeling the color drain from his face. "Erestor, do not play with me..."

Erestor cocked his head. "I am not playing with you... Why is what I smell like suddenly of such importance?"

Glorfindel shook his head and rose to his feet, quickly turning away from Erestor.

"What is it, Glorfindel? You look as though you have seen the dead..."

Glorfindel wheeled around. "Did you, or did you not come into my office this morning?"

"What? No, I did not come into your office this morning." Erestor rose from his chair. "I went to seek you and found you gone... the door was locked." Glorfindel shook his head and began muttering. "Glorfindel, tell me what is wrong. You are beginning to frighten me."

"I... I must go," Glorfindel stammered. He needed to get away, he needed to figure out what had happened, and when he did, he would kill the elf that did this to him.

"No!" Erestor grasped his sleeve. "I want you to tell me this instant what has you so upset!"

"I cannot, not now..."

"Yes, you can, and you will, and yelling at me will not deter me," Erestor answered with determination.

Glorfindel sat heavily in his usual chair, his head in his hands as he began tugging fitfully at his braids. "Midmorning, someone that I thought was you came into my office wearing a large woolen, hooded cloak. He blew out the lantern, locked the door and approached without a word. I could not see the elf's face, he was your height, your build... he even had dark hair; I saw it from beneath his cloak. I called your name, but he did not answer. Then, when he approached, I smelled vanilla and cinnamon, just like your bath oils." He looked into Erestor's face and read the apprehension upon it. "I thought..." his voice began to fail him. "I thought it was you..." he said so softly Erestor almost couldn't hear him.

Erestor knelt before him, placing his trembling hands upon Glorfindel's thighs. "Go on, tell me the rest."

A tear fell from Glorfindel's eye as he continued. "He tied my wrists and ankles to the chair... it was something I could imagine you doing, so I did not suspect. He... he... pleasured me, then left, without a word." He looked into Erestor's pale and shocked face. "I swear, I thought it was you! It smelled like you, felt like you..."

Erestor looked at the floor, his body trembling in anger. "I will kill the one who did this, but not before skinning them alive and stringing them up for the crows!" he growled.

"I am sorry, Erestor... please say you believe me," Glorfindel answered softly.

Erestor struggled to calm himself. He was overwhelmed by feelings of anger and betrayal. He knew Glorfindel had done this unwittingly, but how could he not have known? How could his beloved mistake someone else for him? He took a deep breath and answered, "I believe you." He collected himself and laid his head upon Glorfindel's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist. Something he had not felt in many months returned... something he had thought gone for good. Doubt. It cast pallor upon their fledging love.

Glorfindel closed his eyes and swallowed. Not only did he feel violated, but he felt sick at heart. Erestor was wounded; he could see that. Erestor could not understand how he could have mistaken another for him; indeed, he could not understand it himself. 'He doubts me now,' he thought to himself. 'It is the beginning of the end for us...'

Neither spoke. Erestor sat with his head in his lover's lap, and Glorfindel stroked his raven hair as the fire crackled in the hearth.

* * * *

Legolas slid unsteadily off his mare's back, gripping her long mane in his bloody fist, his left arm clenched tight to his chest. The courtyard was chaotic, healers and warriors rushing between the horses and the caves, the sounds of wounded elves echoing in the cavernous chamber. The periphery of his field of vision began to turn white, and he fought to remain conscious. He had nearly fainted three times between the Enchanted River and his father's caves.

"Greenleaf..."

He felt the strong, comforting arms of his father support him as he slumped back against Thranduil's chest. He whispered, "I am all right..." as Thranduil lifted him in his arms, carrying him toward the healer's chambers.

"It is the water," he croaked, fighting to stay among the living and resist the pull of never-ending slumber. "I was thrown down upon the bank..."

He heard his father bellow for the healer. He had never heard fear in his father's voice before.

"Stay with me, Greenleaf. Listen to my voice, do not fall asleep..."

His father began a chant in a language he did not recall hearing ever before. Soon, the slumber was too strong and he acquiesced, barely registering his father's anguished cry as he slipped into numb darkness.

* * * *

Thranduil sat upon the floor in the healer's chambers, holding his son's limp body in his arms, rocking back and forth as he chanted ceaselessly. The master healer looked on through his tears, his heart breaking as he watched his lord fight for his son's life. 'It is too much,' he thought. 'Not even my lord's magic is strong enough to fight this evil...' He had seen the black water take victims before; they fell into the land of dreams, never to wake again. His staff worked upon the wounded, trying to avoid the king in his grief. The first elf to touch either Thranduil or Legolas would fall at the king's hand, he was certain of it. He had to let Thranduil try until he found it was hopeless on his own. He had sat that way for hours already, no one knew how long he would continue before he either accepted the truth or succumbed to his own exhaustion.

Bustling near the door and hushed murmurs greeted his ears, and he turned to look at the entrance to his ward. An old man cloaked in gray filled the doorway. He leaned upon a gnarled oaken staff and wore a tall pointed hat. The man strode forward, tossing his hat upon a chair and boldly kneeling beside the king. He placed one hand upon Thranduil's head, the other upon Legolas, and began whispering a chant like the one the king uttered.

The room stood still, silence fell like a blanket of night as they waited to see what would happen. Suddenly, the prince gasped, arching his back as his chest expanded, then he exhaled, relaxing into his father's arms. The color of life returned to Legolas' features, and his lips curved into a smile. Thranduil's eyes opened and he looked at the old man.

"Mithrandir..." he said softly. "You have saved my son..."

The old man smiled. "Come, let us get you off this floor and your son into a bed."

The king and the old man departed, Thranduil carrying Legolas in his arms. The healer followed, to tend to the prince's wounds.

* * * *

Legolas struggled to sit up as his father propped pillows behind his back. "It was the Úlairi," he said wearily. "They drove us into an ambush of waiting yrch. They rode hideous winged beasts, the likes of which I have never seen before. They would swoop down upon us and snatch elves into the air, horses and all, before dashing them upon the ground from a great height." He took a deep breath and continued, "I lost five of my best warriors before we reached the thick trees, then the yrch set upon us. I was locked in battle with one, my knives were lodged in his armor and he fell. We rolled down the bank; I was able to free my knives before he fell into the river. I stopped myself, but not before my hands came to rest in the wet mud."

Mithrandir frowned as he stroked his beard. He did not speak often, and when he did, he said little. The Elves of Thranduil had long counted him their friend, ever since he convinced the White Council to attack Dol Guldur. Thranduil himself had fought beside the great wizard, and he had undying respect for the Ainur. "I am glad I came," he said quietly. "It is Sauron's aim to divide the free peoples of Middle-earth. He will continue to attack and divide you, for he fears another alliance of Elves and Men." He smiled gently at Legolas and patted the prince's knee. "It is fortunate that I was wandering your forest when the Úlairi came. I am glad I could be here to help you."

"As am I," Thranduil answered. "You saved my son's life, I will forever be in your debt."

"I owe you my life, Mithrandir," Legolas said softly. "I will not forget it."

Mithrandir smiled, then chuckled. His eyes twinkled for a moment as he gazed at Legolas, then his expression grew more grave. He rose to his feet. "I must be traveling south. The White Council is to meet come spring, and I have some investigating to do..."

Thranduil rose as well, standing aside so that the wizard could clasp his son's uninjured hand. As Mithrandir turned, the king embraced him. A smile curved his lips as the wizard chuckled again, patting his back before pulling away. They watched while he left as silently as he came. One never knew when or where the Grey Pilgrim would turn up.

Thranduil sat back down at his son's side, taking Legolas' hand between his own and giving it a comforting squeeze. Legolas smiled sleepily at his father and closed his eyes as Thranduil leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead and smoothing his loose hair from his face.

"You need rest," the king said softly.

"As do you," Legolas answered.

"I will sleep soon enough. For now, I wish to look after you."

"Father, I will sleep when you sleep, and not a moment before."

"Stubborn..." Thranduil muttered with a smile.

"I learned it from you," Legolas answered. "You might as well lie down here, because I don't trust you. If you leave, you will pace the halls, not get rest."

Thranduil chuckled. "You know me too well."

"Aye, I do."

Thranduil removed the pillows and helped Legolas slide back down into the bed. He then lay down beside him and smiled as his son rolled into his arms. He remembered all the times Legolas had fallen asleep in his arms as an elfling, and as he drifted into reverie, he counted his blessings, not least among them was his son.

To be continued...

Summary: The identity of Glorfindel's visitor is discovered; Glorfindel and Erestor come to an impasse.

When morning came, Glorfindel entered the dining hall for the customary morning meal with his lord. Upon entering the large, noisy room, he saw that the hall was filled to capacity and that they had many unexpected visitors, among them, members of the Grey Company. 'Of course,' he thought to himself, 'they came in with Aragorn.' The winter was turning unusually harsh, temperatures were dropping to unforeseen lows, and even the livestock had to be brought in from the fields. Those that normally camped in their woods were seeking shelter in the Last Homely House, and as always, Master Elrond was glad to give it.

As he approached the heavily laden buffet table, he caught a glimpse of an old friend he had not seen in over a year. "Gildor," he said to himself with a smile. That smile faded when he took note of the similarities between his old friend and Erestor, amazed it was something that he had never noticed before. The fading smile turned into a furrowed brow when he saw the leather gloves neatly tucked in Gildor's pocket. "Of course!" he exclaimed to himself in a hushed whisper, and then strode rapidly toward his friend.

Gildor saw Glorfindel approaching and smiled. "Well me...Ah!" he barked, as Glorfindel seized him by the arm and dragged him out of the dining hall, down the corridor, and into an empty sitting room. Neither saw Erestor enter the dining hall behind Glorfindel, nor did they see the look of realization upon the advisor's face.

"You!" Glorfindel growled.

Gildor furrowed his brow as Glorfindel released him. "What? Are you not glad to see me? This is a fine greeting for an old friend..."

"You came to my office yesterday morn!"

A smile curved Gildor's lips. "Aye, and you were most happy to see me. Though I wondered why you thought I was Erestor..."

"You!"

They turned to see Erestor standing in the doorway, clearly unhappy.

Glorfindel turned, stepping between Gildor and his lover. "Erestor, wait..."

"How dare you!" Erestor growled, as he struggled to get to a confused Gildor. Glorfindel grasped him by the arms and held him tight.

"What in Eru's name is going on here?" Gildor asked in utter confusion. A look of understanding lit his features and he fought not to smile. "Oh, for Elbereth's sake... Erestor, I had no idea that you two were involved..." He backed away with his hands up.

"Erestor," Glorfindel said in his most calming voice. "Gildor has not been in Imladris for over a year. Last he was here you and I were not involved. He had no way of knowing that he was doing anything wrong."

"So this is something that commonly happens between the two of you? Gildor always ties you up and...does...that?"

"Well, something like that, yes..." Gildor answered.

"You are not helping, Gildor," Glorfindel growled over his shoulder.

"My apologies..." Gildor muttered as he walked toward the window.

"He has never done exactly that...I mean, he has not done that particular thing before, or I might have suspected him earlier."

Erestor took a deep breath and regained his composure. "You may release me now," he said in a low voice, and Glorfindel released his arms. "I understand that you were not aware of how circumstances have changed, Gildor. I can see you meant no harm. Forgive me for such an uncivilized outburst. Now that I understand the situation, I can see that no harm is done." He smoothed his robes. "Please excuse me." He turned on his heel and left the library, ignoring Glorfindel's quiet pleas to stay.

Glorfindel stood in the middle of the room, his hands hanging by his side and his eyes cast toward the ceiling. He sighed as Gildor approached him.

"I am sorry, my friend. Truly, I did not know you were so involved. In all the long years I have known you, you have never been with just one lover, and you have never been with Erestor."

"I know, Gildor. 'Tis not your fault. I thought Erestor was playing a game with me...I should have known it was not him; I should have somehow..." He shook his head. "I suspect he is more upset with me than you, for just that reason."

"I will make myself scarce, at least until the two of you can work this out." Gildor patted his friend on the back. "Do not lose hope, Glorfindel. Even you can learn how to do this properly..." He winked at the Elda before leaving him alone in the library.

"How to mend this?" Glorfindel murmured to himself.

* * * *

Erestor decided to forgo breakfast and go straight to his office. For a second day, he could not concentrate, though the reasons that day were less than pleasing. He knew that Glorfindel had truly believed that his mystery lover had indeed been him, and that was what was most upsetting of all. Since the beginning of their relationship, they had a very fulfilling and active physical partnership. They had made love countless times in multitudes of ways. Granted, he had never been so bold as to tie his lover to a chair and pleasure him in his office, but he had been fairly imaginative.

He recalled the look in Glorfindel's eye upon entering his bedchamber the night before, how wickedly satisfied and intrigued he had been, and how apparently grateful he was for what had transpired in his office, though he was not aware of that at the time. He looked at the package sitting upon his desk, still wrapped in dyed paper and tied with a bow. A sick, empty feeling nagged at him from the pit of his stomach when he thought of what had been happening behind Glorfindel's locked office door. Now that he knew the cause of Glorfindel's impish mood the night before, he wondered if he had not been mistaken in acquiescing to the Elda's assertiveness in the physical aspects of their relationship.

He had been worried since the beginning that his feelings would not be returned with equal fervor. Glorfindel had spent nearly two lifetimes avoiding entanglements of the heart, choosing his bed partners from the long list of those who practically waited in line, but that he had no emotional attachment to. Since they had become lovers, he had noted Glorfindel's sense of discomfort, which, he had assumed, stemmed from fear. Certainly, they were well matched in bed, each seeming to know instinctively what the other wanted. The incident in Mirkwood had brought them even closer; Glorfindel had exhibited a protective nature that Erestor had never seen directed his way before. At the same time, the Elda took charge of their relationship, placing more emphasis on the unquenchable desire they both felt, than on long nights holding one another and talking of their hearts.

"I should have known," he whispered to himself. "I thought I was safe, I thought I knew..."

A tear fell from his eye and he wiped at it, frustrated. "Do not be foolish, Erestor," he chided himself. "Glorfindel has never lied to you. He said he thought it was you; believe him." He closed his eyes and sighed. "But he has never said that he loves me, he is afraid to. Does he love me as I love him? Why did he not know it wasn't me? Does he not know my touch? I am sure I would know his; no one feels like him, tastes like him, no one has ever touched me the way he does..."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his chair. Long moments passed, and he heard the door to his office creak open. Soft footsteps crossed the floor; the back of a hand caressed his cheek, wiping at the tears. His heart ached in his breast, yet he forced a smile to his lips. "Lindir," he said, without opening his eyes.

"What pains you so, my friend?" Lindir said softly, as he knelt beside Erestor's chair.

Erestor took a deep breath and lifted his head, opening his eyes and looking at his old friend. "Nothing, just a bout of melancholy."

"The dining hall was abuzz about a confrontation between Gildor and Glorfindel... some said you were involved. Is this true?"

As if the confrontation were not humiliating enough, now the entire population of Imladris was going to be talking about it. He wondered how much worse it was going to get. "It was but a small misunderstanding. You know how some like to talk..."

Lindir nodded. "I was worried about you. You were not at the table at the appointed hour, so I sought you out." He laid his head upon Erestor's knee. "I want you to know that you can call upon me, should you have need..."

Erestor stroked Lindir's silver hair and answered, "I know..." He sighed and bent down, kissing the back of Lindir's head. "Come, we have work to do..."

Lindir looked up and smiled sadly, before rising and moving to his desk to start the appointed duties for the day.

* * * *

Glorfindel had sought Erestor at midday, but had been unable to locate him. The afternoon was misery as he trudged through troop and armament rosters. He left his office early, retiring to his chamber to bathe and change for the evening. Gazing at himself in the mirror, he checked his appearance. Turning, he looked over his shoulder, then faced forward again and smoothed the front of his robe. It was Erestor's favorite, a thin, silk fabric of an alabaster hue that was embroidered with gold. His lover had it made for him; it fit him perfectly, accentuating the parts of his body that Erestor loved best, his torso and buttocks, and it had long flowing sleeves. He wore sparkling gems in his ears and rings upon his fingers. He seldom wore jewelry, but he knew how Erestor appreciated it. The handmaidens had given him a manicure and pedicure and scented his hair with the essence of orchids. If one did not know better, one would think he was going to his bonding bed. That thought caused a moment of panic, which was followed by confusion and anger with himself, as it always was.

"Why does this frighten me so?" he asked his reflection. "Erestor has everything I have ever wanted in a companion. He is my best and dearest friend and the best lover I have ever had. Why does the thought of spending the rest of time with him in this way frighten me so?"

Deep inside, a small, quiet, nagging voice answered, "Because you do not deserve him. Because you know you will hurt him and he does not deserve that..."

He shook his head, forcing away the voice, pushing it back down deep inside himself. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Anything for you, Erestor..." He grasped a small velvet pouch that laid upon his dressing table and made his way toward Erestor's bedchamber.

* * * *

Erestor sat in his customary chair, swirling brandy in his glass as he watched the snow fall deep outside. Glorfindel's gift sat upon his dresser, still wrapped. He had spent the afternoon with Lindir in both the office and outside, taking a walk in the snow. Lindir's presence and quiet council had been like a balm to his wounded soul; and he felt like he had a better perspective on things now. He would not succumb to petty jealousy; he would not doubt his lover's word.

A soft knock fell upon his door and he called for his visitor to enter. A soft sigh escaped his lips as Glorfindel entered; the sight of his beloved caused his heart to swell in his breast. Placing his brandy upon the table, he rose and crossed the room, stopping short of his beloved. "I am sorry," he said softly.

"So am I," Glorfindel answered.

"I owe Gildor an apology," he muttered.

"No. Gildor understands."

Erestor's fingers caressed his lover's face. "You are beautiful," he whispered.

Glorfindel smiled. The intensity of the love he felt for Erestor was more frightening than anything he had experienced in two lifetimes. As frightening as it was, it was something he could not imagine living without; he could never go back to the way things were before Erestor entered this part of his life.

"I have been selfish," he murmured. "I have taken freely and not given in return; this is not how one treats one that one cares for. This night is for you, Erestor," Glorfindel answered softly. "It is my greatest wish to give you all that you desire, and to never again cause you pain."

Erestor embraced his lover tightly. "You did not cause me pain and you have not been selfish. I was foolish, scared..."

"We have both been," Glorfindel murmured into his raven's hair. "You said to me, long ago, that you did not know what you wanted anymore. I think I know what you want, but you have been afraid to ask me for it." He placed Erestor's hands upon his chest. "In all the long years we have known one another, it has always been I that has directed our relationship. You have always been there when I needed you, never been afraid to tell me when I was being a horse's ass, or when I was being stubborn..."

"Or when you were right..." Erestor interjected as he reached up, his fingers caressing his lover's neck.

Glorfindel smiled. "I am a stubborn old goat, Erestor, rash and thoughtless at times. I have always taken such pride in being in control of my choices, of my destiny...It is time that I yield to you, Erestor; it is time for me to bend to your will. I submit to whatever you desire..."

Erestor's heart beat frantically in his chest. Since Mirkwood, they had fallen into a routine of sorts. Glorfindel dominated him in bed and he willingly submitted; though, he yearned to take back control of their relationship. Now, Glorfindel was giving himself to him in a way he had not in many, many months, perhaps in a way he had never done before. He watched as his lover gracefully knelt before him, their eyes never leaving one another. Glorfindel pressed his face to Erestor's groin, softly nuzzling his stirring arousal as his hands caressed his hips. He tangled his fingers in Glorfindel's loose hair as a plaintive moan escaped him.

What did he want? What he truly wanted, he was afraid to ask for, for fear of driving the Elda from his bed and his life. In its stead, what would he accept? He wanted Glorfindel to feel the way he had the morning before; he wanted to be the one that made Glorfindel weak and wanton. It was selfish, he knew, and inconsequential compared to the truest desire of his heart. Nevertheless, it would soothe the jealousy that burned inside him, despite his calm contemplation earlier. To know that he ruled Glorfindel's desires, that he was the master of his body, if not his heart, would have to be enough, at least until Glorfindel was able to admit his own feelings to himself. Or would it?

"Stop," he whispered, and Glorfindel obeyed, sitting back upon his heels and gazing up at his lover. "I want to know who between you was the dominant one..." he murmured. He knew this sort of questioning was petty and beneath him, but as long as this question remained, the doubt would remain also.

Glorfindel furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to ask what Erestor meant, when the matter of the question dawned upon him. "It was not as simple as that," Glorfindel answered softly. "But between us, it was more often Gildor who was the dominant partner."

"Why?" Erestor asked again.

"Because," Glorfindel began. "Because in every other facet of our lives, it was I who took the lead. I was his commander; I was the one who ordered him into battle, the one who sent him before the spears and swords of the yrch. He never failed to serve me faithfully. He never questioned my command nor hesitated to perform even the most seemingly menial duty that I asked of him. I felt..." he faltered for a moment then took a deep breath and continued, "I felt that I owed him the same, and if I could not be commanded by him in battle, I would be in other ways."

It was extraordinarily uncomfortable to be discussing this with Erestor. However, he understood the counselor's need to know these things, for if their places were reversed, he would want to know the same.

"And why are things so different between you and me?" Erestor asked quietly.

"I do not know," Glorfindel answered, his head bowed.

"Yes, you do," Erestor replied.

Glorfindel swallowed. "You frighten me, Erestor; you always have. Understanding Gildor is simple for me, we are cut of the same cloth; we are both warriors. You...you are a mystery to me, you have been since we were elflings. I cannot see what hides behind your eyes; I do not know what is in your heart. I do not know what you will say or do next. I care so deeply for you, Erestor. You have always been my dearest friend. You have said to me what I have not wanted to hear. You have always been honest, even when it angered me beyond reason. But, I do not know how to proceed, I do not know..."

"Stop," Erestor said, as he turned away and walked toward the balcony. He took a deep breath and asked his lover, "Do you feel you owe me something?"

"I owe you everything..." Glorfindel answered, still kneeling on the rug where Erestor left him.

"You owe me nothing," Erestor answered quietly. "I followed you of my own accord. You have not commanded me in battle; you have not sent me into danger. I have what I want..." He closed his eyes and thought to himself, 'at least most of what I want...' "I do not want to be another Gildor for you, Glorfindel. You and I have known one another for far too long for that."

"You are not..." Glorfindel protested, reaching out for his lover.

"I think," Erestor continued quietly, "that you and I have been trying to make something out of this that it is not. Perhaps we are not ready to proceed. As you said, we have always been friends and we have always loved one another as such..."

"Erestor, please..." Glorfindel began, pleadingly.

"We need time to regain our foothold, time for both of us to discover what we want in our lives. We seem to have lost part of ourselves in each other, and neither of us can be who we are not."

Glorfindel shook his head, a mixture of anger and pain welling in his chest. Why could he not just say the words? He had said them before... why could he not say them now, in this new way? It was what his lover needed. But then, it sounded as if it were too late. "You are dismissing me..." he said quietly, his gaze fixed upon the floor.

"I am not dismissing you..." Erestor answered, too afraid to turn around and face his lover. "I am just suggesting that..."

"We take time, yes, I heard you." Glorfindel rose to his feet. "If that is truly what you want, then that is what I will give you." He turned and walked to the door. He paused as his hand came to rest upon the handle, briefly contemplating turning and taking Erestor in his arms and proving to him that he would indeed do anything. But before his heart could rule him, his pride interfered, and he left his lover's chambers without another word.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Erestor was seized with panic. What had he just done? How had he let his pride get out of control? After so many months, so many fights, so many misunderstandings, so much time waiting for words he feared he would never hear...had he finally just had enough? Had Glorfindel just approached him as he normally did...it was the offer to do for him what he had done for Gildor that had sealed the bargain. He meant what he said; he would not take Gildor's place, not when he deserved his own. No, in time, with contemplation, Glorfindel would see that they were meant to be together. As long as he made it easy for the warrior, things would never change.

With a sigh, he realized Lindir would be cross with him. This was not the advice he had received. But then again, he rarely took advice from others. He picked up his glass of brandy and drank it down quickly, then retired for the night.

To be continued...

Summary: Erestor comes to a realization; Glorfindel and Elrond depart for Lórien and a meeting of the White Council.

It had been months. Months of politely nodding to one another in the corridors of the Last Homely House, months of distanced, yet polite conversation over Elrond's dinner table, months of tactfully avoiding being alone with one another. Spring had finally arrived, and Glorfindel was relieved to be leaving Imladris to escort his lord to Lórien, where the White Council would meet. Erestor's displeasure at being tasked with running the Last Homely House in Elrond's absence had been obvious; however, as senior advisor and assistant to Elrond, he could hardly refuse. The twins had returned from a long journey into the wilds of the north, and they would serve in their capacity as the Lords of Imladris while their father was away. All that aside, Glorfindel found that he could not remain in that house one minute longer with things they way they were, and were it not for the trip to Lothlórien, he would have found another excuse to leave.

In the beginning, he tried to seek the staid advisor out, but Erestor was ever polite, which was just as bad as if he were sticking daggers in his heart instead of uttering polite but casual niceties. He found it easier to blame their break up on the mishap with Gildor than to see it for what it really was: one last ditch attempt on Erestor's part to push their relationship past the wall that had been built by him. He convinced himself that Erestor was right, and since he felt he could never give the counselor what he wanted, then perhaps this was for the best. He only hoped that in time, their friendship would return to what it once was.

He had entertained the idea of returning to his old ways, but the thought of taking comfort in others was not appealing. He knew that in their adoring caresses and sensuous kisses, he would only see Erestor, and that was too painful still. So, he busied himself working long hours, personally training new recruits, and putting his more senior warriors through their paces; he had even taken up training horses after a long respite. He worked from Anor's rising to her setting, not leaving his office or the lower compound until he was all but exhausted. There were no more congenial midday meals with his best friend, and he skipped the uncomfortable morning and evening meals as much as protocol would allow.

All of Imladris knew something was amiss. The strained silence and overly polite words between the two lifelong friends did not resemble their previous relationship in the least. There was no more friendly banter, no more bickering, no more jabs and good-natured teasing. In the place of those things were polite, civil words and it made all that came near them uncomfortable.

The twins had spent more and more time in the wilds, riding with the Grey Company, hunting orcs and tracking the movements of Sauron's hoards. Aragorn had grown immensely as a man, the weight of his heritage causing him to transform from a thoughtful young man into a guarded, wily Ranger of the North. He bided his time, waiting for the day when he would reclaim his birthright and challenge the Dark Lord to war.

Erestor did much the same as Glorfindel, burying himself in work, maintaining the library, overseeing council meetings, and attending to the various and sundry tasks that were part of being Elrond's chief administrator. Everyday, he fought the urge to tell Glorfindel he had made a mistake, to beg the Elda to come back to him, and each day, he feared that their friendship would not survive a hurt like this strained separation. His nightmares had returned, dreams of that fateful night in Alqualondë, dreams of the brutal and frightening battles against Morgoth, and worst of all, the nightmarish memories of the fall of Gondolin. Each time the Elda left to patrol the wilds, he feared that Glorfindel would not return, and he would be faced with living with all the things he never said, until the end of time.

He stood upon the veranda, watching the preparations for Elrond's departure in the courtyard below. Anor was rising in the east, her long, golden glow reaching over the tips of the mountains and touching the valley floor. Springtime in Imladris was a glorious sight: flowers of every variety growing wild and splashing the meadows and hillsides with color. Magnolia, dogwood, and fruit trees bloomed with promise of more beauty to come. Normally, it was a time of year that brought great joy to Erestor, who loved the songs of the birds and the fresh scent of snow that gently blew down from the mountaintops. However, this day, Erestor was anything but joyful.

He unconsciously wadded and released the velvet of his robe in his fingers. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and he chewed the inside of his lip in distress. Lindir stood in the library doorway, looking at the silhouette that his lord cast against the rising sun. He recognized Erestor's posture, the tenseness in his shoulders, the rigidly erect height of his frame. The cause of his lord's distress was no secret; he had seen it building in the months since Erestor's separation from Glorfindel. A small part of him had hoped that Erestor would forget his love for the warrior, and that he himself might have a chance at regaining Erestor's favor. However, he knew this hope was for naught, for one did not love as Erestor loved Glorfindel in passing fancy.

He sighed quietly, then took a deep breath, bearing himself up and striding into the office. Stepping up behind Erestor, he gently rested his chin upon the advisor's shoulder.

"Why do you not send for him, to say goodbye?"

"I do not like saying goodbye," Erestor answered. "It feels too...permanent."

"Then wish him a safe journey. Is that not what friends do for one another?"

"He is too busy preparing to leave. I would only be interrupting him."

"Do you not think that perhaps he is afraid to come of his own accord? It was you who sent him away in the first place, after all."

"I do not need to be reminded of that, Lindir..."

"Oh, but I think you do. With all due respect, my friend, you are behaving like a stubborn old goat."

Lindir stepped backward as Erestor turned to glare at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

Lindir placed his hands upon his hips. "Can you not see he is afraid? For some reason, one that is unknown to me, he is afraid he will somehow disappoint you, or hurt you. He has done everything you wanted – within reason – except say three, inconsequential little words. You end a relationship, cause yourself, and him, pain, all over three little words? Words that so many bandy about with no thought of their meaning nor proof of their import, while he has proven his love to you time and again, yet not said the words. If I had to choose between the two, I think I would choose the latter." Lindir exhaled, having said the words quickly for fear of being interrupted or banished from his friend's presence. "Forgive me, Erestor, but I am beginning to wonder about your judgement."

Erestor stood in dumbfounded shock. Lindir had never, in the long years he served him, ever been so frank. "He does not know how to love me, Lindir, and I am unwilling to settle for less than I need..."

Lindir threw his hands up in exasperation. "For Eru's sake, Erestor! The incident with Gildor was something that neither of you could have foreseen..."

"He tried to replace Gildor with me, Lindir! I thought you of all would understand how that would make me feel..."

"If that is what you truly believe, Erestor, then you are saying that you never have really known him at all. You are saying that the elf you grew up beside, fought beside, watched die and saw returned is not who you thought he was."

Erestor opened his mouth, then closed it. Was that the truth? Did he think he did not really know Glorfindel? In all the long years of their lives, the Elda had never told another that he loved them, not romantically. Erestor remembered a conversation they had in Gondolin. He had asked Glorfindel why he did not tell his lovers that he loved them, and Glorfindel had answered that he did not, at least not in that way. Glorfindel had seen Ecthelion die facing Gothmog as they fled the city gates. His friend had not paused nor faltered in his duty, but the pain of that loss was clearly written upon his face. Erestor had no doubt in that moment that Ecthelion and Glorfindel had loved one another, yet, Glorfindel had never said so. Why was that? The answer, now, was as clear as the nose upon his face. Lindir was right. Glorfindel was afraid; he always had been.

He turned his wide eyes toward the courtyard, then back to Lindir.

"Fetch him..."

"Yes, my lord!" Lindir cried enthusiastically, as he turned and bolted for the courtyard.

* * * *

Glorfindel could feel Erestor's gaze upon his back like daggers piercing his flesh. He secured his pack and closed his eyes, resting his hands upon Asfaloth's flanks. The young stallion, sensing his master's tension turned his head and nickered to Glorfindel. Glorfindel looked at his faithful young friend, whom he had raised and trained himself, and gave a reassuring rub to his soft muzzle. He gathered the courage to face Erestor and turned, gazing up at the balcony of the library. He saw the sweep of dark velvet just as the counselor turned and reentered the library. A sigh escaped him, and then he turned and continued the preparations to leave.

Some moments later, he heard an elf running down the stairs and he turned, hoping to see Erestor running to him. Instead, he saw Lindir, who was rushing toward him and short of breath.

"My Lord Glorfindel," Lindir breathed. "My Lord Erestor wishes to see you before you depart..."

Glorfindel nodded, trying to contain the urge to run to the library himself, and followed Lindir's quick steps back up to the Last Homely House.

* * * *

Erestor paced nervously, wadding his robe in his fists as he searched for what he would say. Should he just come out and say it? Should he just say, "Glorfindel, I love you. I am in love with you, and I will love no other for the rest of my days"?

He detected movement at the door and he turned to see Lindir standing in the doorway. For a moment, his heart froze, fearing that Glorfindel had refused to come see him. But then, he saw his beloved's form appear behind Lindir and he sighed in relief. His assistant opened the door and stepped aside, granting Glorfindel permission to enter, then closed the door behind him as he exited the library.

"You sent for me?" Glorfindel asked quietly.

"I...I did," Erestor answered. "Come inside..."

Glorfindel approached him and stopped, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "Have you some instruction for me in regards to the Council or the trip?"

"No," Erestor answered quietly, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I...I asked you here because I have something to say to you."

Glorfindel swallowed and nodded.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel, for the pain I have caused both of us..."

"Do not be sorry for speaking what is in your heart, Erestor. As your friend, that is what I expect you to do."

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"Is that not what we have always been?"

"Yes, but...I thought we have also been more."

"We have, but we are that no more...that is what you wanted, is it not?"

Erestor turned his back to Glorfindel and shook his head. "No, that is not what I wanted," he answered quietly.

Glorfindel saw him wipe at his face with his sleeve and he felt his strength crumble. He quickly approached Erestor and placed his hands upon his friend's shoulders. "What is it, Erestor?"

Erestor turned and looked up into Glorfindel's eyes. The Elda's azure gaze shimmered with unshed tears. "I have been a fool..." he whispered. He nearly sobbed as Glorfindel took him in his arms.

"No, you have not been a fool, Erestor. This has not been easy for either one of us. I am not good at this, I know not how to say what I feel."

"Try, please, I need to hear it..."

Glorfindel buried his face in Erestor's raven locks and breathed deeply. "I have missed you, Erestor," he murmured. "I have missed the sound of your voice, the scent of you, the feel of you, your warmth next to me in bed. I have missed holding you, watching you sleep, watching you smile when you have a good dream. I have missed our lunches, our walks in the forest, our arguments... and I have missed the feel of your lips upon my own, the feel of your hands upon my flesh. I fear that I will go to Mandos' Halls while missing those things..."

Erestor clasped him tight, squeezing the Elda's neck as he buried his face beneath the fall of golden hair. He was near sobbing as he clung to his beloved. Lindir was right, Glorfindel had been afraid, and he did love him, for no one said what the Elda had just said unless they were in love. While the urge to shout his love to the rafters nearly overtook him, Erestor knew that for Glorfindel's sake he needed to proceed carefully. He would not drive the Elda away on the verge of his departure. Instead of shouting, "I love you!" he softly murmured, "I miss you too..."

He felt Glorfindel pull away and take his face in his hands. He opened his eyes, gazing into Glorfindel's own as the Elda caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. "I feared I had lost you," Glorfindel said softly. Then Erestor watched as his lover's lips descended upon his own.

What Glorfindel could not say with words, he said with that kiss. That kiss was one that reached inside, wrapping him in warmth and love and surety. It was a kiss that promised many more like it, for all the days of their lives to come. Glorfindel's lips moved softly against his own, caressing gently, sweetly. It was not a kiss fueled by passion, though that was something that undeniably existed between them, now and for always; it was a kiss that was born of love and admiration and gratitude.

Their lips parted as Lindir knocked softly upon the door. They turned, still wrapped in one another's arms to see Lindir's apologetic expression. "I am sorry," the minstrel said quietly, "but Lord Elrond's entourage is departing the main residence."

Erestor looked up at Glorfindel and smiled. "You must go..."

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye," he answered. "But be assured that I will return, as quickly as I can."

Erestor smiled and caressed the warrior's face. "Be careful..."

Glorfindel smiled. "I will. Do not fear..." He reached down and kissed Erestor once more, then rushed out of the library to reach the courtyard before his lord. He paused in the corridor and turned to look at Lindir. "Thank you," he said, before turning and running down the hall.

Lindir smiled sadly and raised his hand in farewell, then pulled himself together and turned to face Erestor. He held out his hand. "Come, it is time to bid our friends safe passage..."

Erestor exited the library and took Lindir's hand, drawing him into an embrace. "You are, and have been a very dear and wise friend to me, Lindir."

Lindir smiled as he embraced his lord, then they walked down the corridor, hand in hand.

* * * *

Arwen and her brothers embraced their father before he mounted his horse. Glorfindel and two of his captains were already mounted and ready to depart. Elrond's standard was furled and wrapped in dark blue cloth; Glorfindel did not think it wise to announce their passage to all between Imladris and Lórien.

"South to the Gap of Rohan, then through the Wold back north to Lórien," Elladan said, confirming the route his father and his companions would take.

Elrond nodded and placed his hand upon his son's shoulder. "Aye. The two of you must watch after your sister and protect our home until I return."

"We will, father," Elrohir answered from his place beside Arwen.

"It is I who should be watching after them," Arwen teased with a smile. Elrond smiled at his only daughter who laughed when Elrohir gave her a squeeze around the waist. "We will miss you, father," she continued. "May the Valar grant you safe passage."

"I will miss all of you," Elrond answered. He looked to Erestor. "I trust you to act upon your own good judgement, Erestor. You have never failed me in the past."

Erestor bowed his head then answered, "Nor shall I fail you now. Valar's speed, my lord."

The group turned to gallop out of the gate, Glorfindel's captains leading the way.

"Give our love to grandmother and grandfather!" Arwen shouted. Elrond raised his hand in acknowledgement as he passed through the gate.

Asfaloth pranced and whinnied, eager to be on their way as Glorfindel cast one last loving gaze upon Erestor. He smiled, then winked, then raised his hand and galloped after Elrond.

Erestor raised his hand in farewell and watched until they cleared the gate. He then turned and began climbing the steps back to the Last Homely House, where he would await the return of his lover.

To be continued...

Summary: Members of the White Council arrive in Lórien.

Thranduil and his entourage, which included his son and four of his warriors, arrived at the northern fences and dismounted their horses. A young elf of slender build hesitantly approached the foreboding king with a slip of silk in his hand. He heard his son grumble as the blindfold was placed over Legolas' eyes and he smiled. He then looked down at the younger elf and said quietly, "I would know the name of the elf I entrust my safety and that of my son to."

"Rúmil," the young guardian answered quietly, bowing his head in respect to the Sindar King.

"Very well, Rúmil," Thranduil said quietly. "I trust you to lead us safely to Caras Galadhon."

"Do not fear, my lord," Rúmil replied. "No harm will come to you or your friends."

"I rarely do," Thranduil returned with a smile, bending down a bit so that the slighter elf could tie the blindfold around his eyes without too much difficulty.

"We will take your weapons now," the captain of the marchwardens said with deference.

"Wait," Legolas complained from behind the blindfold. "You said naught about disarming us. We are your kindred; we are not here with hostile intentions... We were invited by the Lord and Lady of the Wood..."

"It is protocol, Legolas," Thranduil answered. "Would you not disarm them before allowing them audience to me?"

"Yes, of course, father," Legolas replied. "But I would not disarm them upon arrival to the borders of our realm."

"Lórien has survived unscathed in part due to secrecy. I would not begrudge the captain of his duty. Turn over your bow and quiver, my son."

Legolas grumbled again as two of the guardians removed his quiver and took his bow. Thranduil held out his hands and allowed the guardians to remove his sword and sheath, and take his spear from him. Their companions followed suit, then the group was led into the Golden Wood.

They followed without difficulty, sensing the terrain as they walked single file. Legolas insisted on walking in front of his father, in order to protect him, and his second followed closely behind the king. Each elf held onto a rope that acted as a guide, and followed the sounds of the footsteps of the one in front of them. They walked for almost a day then finally arrived at the gates to the city. As they stepped inside, the blindfolds were removed and Legolas gasped at the sight that greeted his eyes. Never had he seen trees so tall or large, or a wood so beautiful. Even the beauty of Imladris paled in comparison to Lothlórien. The trees seemed to glow as if they were lit from within, and as night was beginning to fall, lanterns were being sparked all over the tree city. Elves quietly milled here and there, speaking softly as they cast shy glances upon the Sindar King and his party. Thranduil smiled and nodded deferentially, and Legolas wondered at the gentle approach his father took with this secretive society. His father was not prideful, per se; however, Thranduil rarely conceded ground to others. His father was strong and confident, and his manner with the Elves of Caras Galadhon was something he had not seen before.

As they were shown to the talans that had been prepared for their visit, Legolas clasped his father's elbow and leaned forward to speak softly in his ear. "Are they afraid or suspicious?" he asked softly.

"Perhaps a little of both," Thranduil answered. "We are Sindar, amongst Silvan folk, and though they are our kindred, we have been long estranged."

"But our own people are Silvan, and Lord Celeborn is Sindar, why should they be suspicious of us?"

"Remember your history, Greenleaf. Long ago, many years before you were born, our people withdrew to the north and were estranged from our kindred in Lórien. They no longer know us as their kin; there are few who remember us, and few of us who remember them. They wish us no ill, Legolas, they merely wish to maintain the peace that has come from secrecy. They are not so different from us, my son."

Legolas nodded and followed his father, smiling when he met the eyes of one of the folk of Lórien. They climbed a long, winding staircase, reaching a large platform more than half way up the trunk of the tall mallorn. Walls, woven of both the branches of the mallorn and branches of birch formed the walls around the perimeter. They lifted a light, silken curtain and stepped inside to find the talan lavishly furnished. All the furniture and the items inside the talan were made of rustic materials with the exception of a crystal pitcher containing wine, and two matching glasses. Earthen pitchers and cups, smooth wooden bowls, an earthen washbasin with a pitcher to fill it, and candles and flowers were placed about the main chamber. Two doorways, side by side, each covered with a curtain, led to their separate sleeping chambers. Each bedchamber was furnished with an elegant bed made of birch and willow, and covered in silk and velvet bedding. There was no roof to their talan, as it was the only one upon the tree, and they could see the stars through the branches above. Legolas looked about him in wonder, knowing this was how his own folk had once lived before they were forced to retreat underground.

Their escort, the young guardian that had led them into the city, stood by while they perused their lodgings. Thranduil turned and smiled at the young guardian and covered his heart with his hand while bowing his head. "My thanks to you for your safe guidance, Rúmil," he said softly.

"It was an honor, my lord. I hope your lodgings are to your satisfaction."

"Absolutely," the king answered. "I assume someone will summon us when the Lord and Lady of the Wood are ready to receive us?"

"Yes, my lord," Rúmil answered. "For now, enjoy a respite from your long journey. A welcoming celebration has been planned in your honor for this evening. Should you care to bathe, there is a private bathhouse nearby for you and the prince to use. At the base of the stairs, follow the path to the right, you will see a private garden. Inside is a small bathhouse fed from the river that runs through the city. Your horses have been stabled and will be well cared for."

"And our weapons?" Legolas asked as politely as he could manage.

"They will be stored safely until your departure from our wood."

Legolas forced a smile and answered, "Thank you."

"I understand your reluctance to part with them, my lord," Rúmil answered. "I am a marchwarden of the northern fences, I understand a warrior's attachment to the tools of his trade."

"It is of no consequence, Rúmil," Thranduil answered. "We are happy to abide by the laws of your realm."

"Thank you, my lord," Rúmil answered. "There is wine in the cupboard, fresh fruit in the bowl upon the table, and fresh water in the pitcher. Should you require anything else, pull this cord, it rings a bell that will summon the chambermaid assigned to you for the duration of your stay; she is just at the base of the tree."

Thranduil nodded, remembering the small dwelling they passed at the base of the large mallorn. He bowed his head again as the young elf did the same, then he watched as Rúmil exited their quarters. He turned to look at Legolas, meaning to admonish him, but he was unable to prevent the smile that curved his lips.

"Legolas, must you be so petulant?" he asked, mirth clear in his voice.

Legolas smiled then laughed softly. "I am sorry, father. I am not accustomed to being disarmed and blindfolded upon entering another elven realm. I received no such welcome in Imladris..."

"Which would be the only other elven realm you have ever visited, I might add..." Thranduil answered with a smile as Legolas laughed again. "Elrond's realm is not as close to danger as the Golden Wood. Galadriel and Celeborn are being prudent leaders, as is their duty."

"Agreed," Legolas answered with a smile. "I will endeavor to atone for my petulant behavior by charming every elf at the celebration tonight so that I may regain your favor, my lord." He bowed low with a sweep of his arm as his father chuckled in response.

"Come," Thranduil replied. "Let us rest awhile and enjoy a glass of wine. You can regale me with further tales of your adventures abroad..."

Legolas chuckled and took a seat upon a low divan, kicking off his boots as his father poured a glass of wine for each of them. He enjoyed the easy banter and friendly rapport he had with his father; he had not noticed that any of his friends had the same. He accepted the glass of wine with a smile, and watched as his father took a seat across from him on a matching chaise. He sighed as the smooth and slightly sweet wine slid down his throat, and he leaned his head back upon the arm.

"It feels good to be off my feet," he said quietly.

"Aye," Thranduil concurred. "Though I have greatly enjoyed the trip, despite the danger. It is rare that I have the opportunity to ride afield."

"One day, father," Legolas answered softly, "you will be able to ride anywhere that you wish without need of vigilance. One day, this world will be purged of evil; I will see this done 'ere I die."

"Do not speak of death, Legolas," Thranduil chided. "You will not die, not if I have a word to say about it."

"Of course I will not," Legolas answered. "I am the son of Thranduil Oropherion, there is nary an orch, warg, ungol, man, or beast that can slay me." His lips curved into a smile as he spoke.

Thranduil shook his head and chuckled. "I have raised a prideful and boastful son..."

Legolas laughed. "Aye, that you have, my father... that you have."

He raised his glass in a toast to his father, and Thranduil returned the gesture. Father and son chatted amiably as they waited for their summons to the Lord and Lady of the Wood.

* * * *

Elrond and his entourage arrived at the southern fences late in the day. They were greeted and granted entrance, proceeding on their own toward the tree city. Given his relation to the Lord and Lady of the Wood, Elrond and all the senior members of his house that ventured there were allowed to roam free and without escort.

Glorfindel looked forward to seeing Thranduil again, if for no other reason than to express his gratitude for the king's hospitality upon their last unplanned visit. He also looked forward to seeing the prince; he had grown quite fond of Legolas during the prince's stay in Imladris. After seeing the horses to the stables and their gear stowed, he retired to the talan that he and Erestor had shared upon their last visit. Apparently, the Lady of the Wood had thought Elrond's advisor would be with him this trip as well. He pulled off his boots and tossed his cloak upon a rack by the massive trunk of the mallorn. Twisting with his arms over his head, he stretched the stiffness caused by two weeks of riding and sleeping upon the ground out of his body.

His heart was lighter than it had been in many months, despite Erestor's absence. Though his raven-haired lover was not with him in body, he was in spirit, and Glorfindel was most happy they had resolved their differences before he left Imladris. He resolved to be a better and more giving lover, and to try to justify Erestor's faith in him. No doubt, the thought of acknowledging what was already in his heart frightened him, but that fear was something he would have to come to grips with or he would risk hurting or losing Erestor again. He unpacked his belongings and opened the large armoire; the robes he and Erestor had been given on their last visit were freshly cleaned and hanging inside. He ran his fingers over the soft, dark velvet of Erestor's robe and closed his eyes, conjuring the vision of his dark beauty in his mind. A smile curved his lips as he thought about Erestor and the homecoming they would share. Then he hung his clothing inside the armoire and left the talan to bathe before the evening's festivities.

To be continued...

Summary: A celebration in Lórien; two marchwardens become smitten.

Glorfindel mounted the steps to the dais, kneeling before Galadriel and kissing the back of her hand. The Lady of the Wood bent down, taking Glorfindel's head in her hands and kissing its golden crown. 'I am disappointed to see that Lord Erestor has not traveled here with you,' her voice echoed in his mind.

"He was tasked with running the Last Homely House," he answered in kind.

Galadriel smiled as Glorfindel stood, returning her smile in a knowing fashion. He then moved to Lord Celeborn, who clasped his shoulder and took his hand. Elrond was already in attendance, as were several others, including Círdan (who rarely traveled from the Havens) and Galdor, and several senior members of Celeborn and Galadriel's house. Thranduil and Legolas arrived shortly after Glorfindel, and after greeting the Lord and Lady of the Wood, they crossed the floor to Glorfindel and Elrond.

"Well met," Thranduil said as he extended his hand to Elrond.

"It has been too long," Elrond answered, as he took Thranduil's hand between his own. He then turned to Legolas. "Prince Legolas." He took Legolas' hand in between his own as the prince bowed his head.

"Well met, my lord," Legolas answered softly. "It is good to see you again." His eyes quickly scanned the crowd for any hint of Elladan or Elrohir.

"I am afraid my sons are not with me, Legolas," Elrond said softly, a smile gracing his handsome features.

"That is a pity," Legolas returned. "I had hoped to see them."

"They are in charge of Imladris' defenses in my absence," Elrond answered. He smiled, then continued. "I am glad that the three of you have become such fast friends."

"As am I," Legolas answered with a shy smile. "I hold their friendship near to my heart."

Elrond patted him on the back as he followed his father to greet Glorfindel.

"Well met, Lord Glorfindel," Thranduil said with a smile.

Glorfindel smiled broadly as he clasped Thranduil's hand. "Well met indeed, my lord. You look well..."

"As do you," Thranduil answered. "Love agrees with you, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled broadly. "Aye... I only hope I can agree with it."

Thranduil chuckled. "Oh, you will, fear not. Love is a stubborn and patient animal. Always creeping up on you when you least expect it."

"And you, my lord? Have you been caught in its snare?"

"Not yet," Thranduil answered, "though I fear it tracks me." He winked as he turned to welcome Legolas.

"Greetings, Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said smoothly as he approached. "Where might your better half be?"

Thranduil's eyes widened as his son teased the Elda. Glorfindel chuckled and answered, "I fear I had to leave him behind to watch over our home, my lord." He smiled as Legolas embraced him. "'Tis good to see you again, my prince."

"'Tis good to see you as well, my friend," Legolas answered. Legolas and his father then moved on, and Thranduil introduced his son to Círdan and Galdor.

* * * *

Orophin nudged Rúmil as his younger brother fidgeted with his collar. Haldir cast a sideways glance at his younger siblings and shook his head. It was a momentary distraction from that which occupied his thoughts: the resplendent and golden princely glory of Legolas Thranduilion. He was immediately taken with the beautiful prince as the king's party had arrived at the northern fences. Not only was Legolas beautiful, but he was proud and defiant, two traits he could easily admire in a potential lover.

He knew his Lord and Lady would not approve of such a wolfish thought, but unlike many, he did not assume that Legolas' youth, feline grace and gentle beauty spoke of a weak prince. The fire in Legolas' eyes told him differently: that the prince could indeed be a force to be reckoned with. Legolas had rattled Rúmil's cage in their initial encounter. His youngest brother was no weakling; however, Legolas was quite an impressive figure when roused to defend his father. Not to mention, Thranduil was a foreboding enough figure on his own; the pairing of father and son could be quite unnerving.

As he watched Legolas, he wondered how he might chance an introduction. They had met briefly at the northern fences, but he desired a more informal and less adversarial introduction. He could see that Glorfindel harbored affection for the prince. However, since it was well known who the guardian of Glorfindel's heart was, there was no need to worry about competition from the Elda for Legolas' favor. Perhaps Glorfindel would see his way clear to making an introduction. He smiled and nodded slightly to himself. Yes, Glorfindel... the Elda owed him a favor after his last visit...

Orophin leaned over to whisper in his younger brother's ear. "Go on, Rúmil. Go talk to his majesty..."

"I cannot!" Rúmil answered with dismay. "This is a state function... he is a king, I cannot just approach him as if he were another guardian."

"But he was very kind and polite to you earlier, surely that would not change now. What are you afraid of?"

"Stop it, Orophin... What would the Lord and Lady think of such an impertinent act?"

"Do not hide behind the Lord and Lady, Rúmil. Neither would begrudge you some time with his majesty if you should desire it."

Rúmil shook his head and tugged at the hem of his tunic. Orophin sighed and shrugged; eventually his little brother was going to have to find the courage or lose his chance.

The evening began with friendly banter between the honored members of the Eldar. The wizards would arrive in the morning, and the White Council would then begin. How long the Council would meet was anyone's guess, and no one was really sure of what they would speak of. As the dinner guests took their places at the long table, Rúmil cast shy glances in Thranduil's direction, while his elder brother, Haldir, cast more blatant ones at the prince. Orophin worried that Haldir might offend King Thranduil, however the king merely smiled when he took note of the captain's interest in his son.

Dinner was followed by wine and dancing, though the celebration was subdued. No one forgot their reason for being in Lórien. As Ithil continued her journey across the sky, the celebration ended. Haldir caught Glorfindel's elbow as the guests retired and left the gardens for their respective talans.

"Might I have a word, Lord Glorfindel?" Haldir asked smoothly.

"Certainly," Glorfindel answered as he followed Haldir toward a more private location.

"I hope you enjoyed your last visit here," Haldir began.

"You are calling in your marker, are you not?" Glorfindel interrupted with a wolfish grin.

"I was making an attempt at subtlety, my lord..."

"Never mind the subtlety, Haldir. It does not suit you. Now, what is it you wish from me?"

"An introduction..."

"To Prince Legolas..."

"Aye. How did you know?"

"Everyone at the table knows, Haldir. As I said, subtlety does not suit you. Everyone saw the admiring glances you were casting the prince's way, including the prince himself..."

"He did not return them. Do you think he is not interested?"

"I would not profess to know what is in the prince's heart. But I doubt he would rebuff you. You are, after all, a handsome elf, and a soldier. The two of you have those two things in common. I imagine that he is trying to make a good impression on the elders that are in attendance, after all this is an official delegation and he is with his father..."

Haldir nodded. "True. I hope he did not find me impertinent."

Glorfindel chuckled and shook his head. "What happened to the legendary confidence of Haldir of Lothlórien?"

"Never have I seen an elf more proud or more...alluring; and his position as prince dictates that I must proceed carefully."

"Not to mention his father..."

Haldir nodded in agreement. "Aye. Having an angry Thranduil Oropherion hunting me down is not something I want to experience," he said, with a wry grin.

Glorfindel laughed and clapped Haldir upon the shoulder. "I trust you will treat the prince with honor?"

"Most definitely," Haldir agreed.

"Fine. I will introduce you formally to Legolas after the Council meeting tomorrow."

Haldir shook Glorfindel's hand vigorously. "Thank you, my friend."

Glorfindel smiled and shook his head, patting Haldir on the shoulder before retiring for the evening.

* * * *

The house was quiet, the residents having retired for the evening. Elladan had spent the afternoon sequestered with Erestor, going over trade negotiations that were in progress, and the various other mundane duties of running Imladris. He was now fully informed of the status of the realm, and ready to attend the council meetings beginning in a few days. Elrohir had spent the day with the soldiers, reviewing staff rosters and planned patrols; he would serve in Glorfindel's stead during the Elda's absence.

They had their evening meal in the customary manner, with the senior members of Elrond's staff in attendance and Arwen serving as hostess. After the dinner guests retired, they did as well, bidding Arwen a good night at her door. They retired to their separate chambers, only to wait until all the lights had dimmed in the Last Homely House, then Elladan stealthily crept into his twin's bedchamber. Stealing moments together was easier when their father was not present; they did not feel his ever-present and watchful gaze upon them. While Elrond was not prone to spying on his sons, and neither of the twins had a reason to suspect he knew of the nature of their relationship, he did seem to see all and know all when it came to the goings on in his house.

Elladan closed the bedchamber door and latched it. He had left his own door locked, exiting his chamber from the balcony, scaling the thick vines that grew on the wall, and reentering the house through a door that led to his father's private garden. A fire burned in the hearth, chasing away the chill of the spring night. The door to Elrohir's bathing chamber was open; candlelight flickered through the open doorway. He crossed the floor, making no sound in his bare feet, and paused just outside threshold to the bathing chamber.

His twin reclined in a steaming tub of warm water, Elrohir's hair spilling over the edge of the tub in a luxurious sable fall, the ends just barely touching the floor. Elladan gazed at the elf that held his heart, content to stand in the doorway and admire his beloved brother's beauty. Elrohir's eyes were closed, his lips slightly curved into a relaxed and satisfied smile. His strong hands rested upon the edges of the tub, the fingers curled around the rounded edge, and one leg was draped over the edge, revealing the shapely curves of his muscular calf and thigh. Drops of water ran in small rivulets down his neck, shoulders and chest, causing his alabaster skin to glisten in the soft, warm candlelight.

If ever there had been one more beautiful, Elladan had not seen nor heard of them. Elrohir was the epitome of both elfkind and mankind; in him was the beauty and gentle wisdom of the Elves and the power and majesty of the Dúnedain. When Elladan gazed upon his brother, he did not see a reflection of himself. Elrohir was all that he was not, at least in his own eyes. As soon as he had been old enough to understand, he had known that Elrohir was his other half in more than just their physical appearance. Elrohir was bound to him, both heart and soul, and no law or judgement could ever change that.

He slowly removed his robe, hanging it upon a peg before moving to kneel on the floor next to his beloved. He gently rested his cheek against Elrohir's arm and watched his twin's lips curve into a loving smile.

"I love you, Elrohir," he whispered softly.

Elrohir shifted so that he could caress Elladan's head. "As I love you," he answered, "and always will." Elrohir sighed, then slowly drew his leg back down into the bath. "Come," he murmured as he slowly sat up. "Take me to bed and hold me until Anor rises..."

Elladan nodded, taking his brother's hand and helping him rise from the bath. He wrapped Elrohir in a thick towel, gently drying his brother's torso as he placed soft kisses upon his face. Then he walked with him, hand in hand, to the bed, where they kissed, touched, made love, and slept in each other's arms until dawn.

To be continued...

Summary: Three wizards arrive, the White Council meets, a discussion ensues, and a wish is granted.

Saruman, Gandalf and Radagast arrived in Lórien in the predawn hours of the following day. Upon their arrival in Caras Galadhon, the White Council convened. Saruman was chief among the Istari; therefore, he spoke on their behalf. Galadriel, Celeborn, Círdan and Elrond were the most powerful of the elves in attendance, and they spoke on behalf of Elven-kind. Saruman reported that he had discovered that the One Ring had passed into the Sea, and therefore was beyond the reach of Sauron, or anyone else. After many debates on how the wizard would have known this and other possible explanations for the reappearance of the Nazgûl in Dol Guldur, the Council adjourned for the night. The Eldar were joined by Gandalf as they retired to the residence of Galadriel and Celeborn to discuss the events of that meeting...

"I do not trust him," Thranduil grumbled as he paced the talan floor. "There is more to what has occurred here than is readily discernable."

Legolas sat quietly by in a chair next to the wall, listening to his father's counsel. Glorfindel sat next to him, and he knew the Elda was in agreement with his father.

"Curunír has great wisdom, perhaps he has seen something we have not?" Círdan replied.

Thranduil turned and faced the great mariner. "I respect what you say, Lord Círdan. But my heart, my instincts and every fiber of my being tells me what he says is not so. In the past two years, Uruk-hai have prowled the Vales of the Anduin – not attacking the enclaves of elves and men as is their want, but searching for something as if they were driven. Now, Dol Guldur is occupied again and Úlairi ride winged beasts over the treetops of Mirkwood." He turned to Galadriel. "Tell me, my lady, do you not know or sense what I speak of?"

Galadriel closed her eyes and answered quietly, "I do know of what you speak. The world is changing, I feel it."

Elrond added, "Sauron is growing more bold; attacks on Gondor have intensified both in frequency and in intensity. The Gondorian army will not long last if this continues unchecked. The Dark Lord would not declare himself openly if he had not found some reason to hope that what was taken from him would be returned."

Gandalf, the only wizard in attendance, spoke up, "Perhaps Saruman has been deceived, or perhaps he is only thinking wishfully. It is difficult for me to believe that he would purposefully deceive you or me. It will be of no harm to take him at his word, yet maintain a watchful eye."

Legolas stood and spoke up. "And what of the Úlairi? What of my woodland home? We cannot fight them on our own..."

Gandalf sighed and looked at the floor before answering. "I have no answer for you this night, Legolas. I will do what I can to convince Saruman and Radagast to gather our forces once more, but I can make no promises."

Thranduil sighed quietly and shook his head as Legolas sat back down next to Glorfindel. The Elda offered a comforting hand upon the prince's knee.

"It will be lost to us," Legolas whispered to Glorfindel. "We will die defending our home and lose it anyway."

* * * *

Legolas walked solemnly ahead of his father as they returned to their talan. Upon exiting the Lord and Lady's dwelling, Glorfindel saw Haldir standing at the base of the stairs. The captain had been on guard duty for the duration of the meeting. He shook his head gently, indicating to Haldir that it was not a good time for an introduction. Haldir looked at the prince with concern; he had not seen him look so defeated. He nodded in agreement to Glorfindel, then bowed his head as the procession of Eldar passed him.

Rúmil was also waiting at the base of the stairs. His duty was to escort Thranduil and Legolas back to their talan as Orophin was tasked with escorting Círdan and Galdor. Their duty was more one of honor than necessity; no one in the Golden Wood feared anything from their visiting kindred. Rúmil walked quietly behind Thranduil and Legolas as they returned to their talan and he paused at the base of the stairs in case either of the Sindar nobles needed anything. Thranduil turned and smiled at him and he felt his face begin to grow warm. Bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand, he began to back away.

"My thanks to you for your service," Thranduil said softly.

"It is my honor, my lord," Rúmil answered quietly.

Sensing the young guardian was not quite ready to be parted from his company, and feeling a bit restless himself, Thranduil stepped closer and replied, "I hear the lady's gardens are a sight to behold, particularly when Ithil shines at her fullest. Would you be so kind as to escort me to them?"

Rúmil felt his face grow hot again and answered, "Of course, my lord. To fulfill your wish would be my great honor."

Thranduil smiled and replied, "Lead the way then, my friend."

Rúmil turned and escorted Thranduil toward the gardens at the edge of the city, as Legolas ascended the stairs to their talan.

* * * *

Glorfindel sat in a wide rocker with his feet propped upon a table, staring at the night sky. As he sipped his wine, he let his thoughts wander freely over the events of the past weeks as well as what had been said in the Council. Something nagged at him that he could not quite put his finger on. He agreed with Thranduil that there was more to Saruman's counsel than met the eye, though what reason the White Wizard would have to lie was beyond his reckoning.

He felt for Legolas; the prince was so dedicated to his duty as guardian of the great forest. It was difficult for Legolas to accept compromise, let alone defeat. With a tired sigh, Glorfindel thought the prince would need to learn to accept both before all was said and done. When he thought about it, Legolas reminded him of Estel, except that the elf had lived longer and was more prudent when it came to making decisions in battle. 'One day,' he thought, 'those two will make a formidable pair – both as stubborn as oxen and brave as lions. I would not want to be between them and their goal.'

He stretched and took another sip of wine, allowing his thoughts to drift to what occupied him most often: his lover and best friend. He wasn't sure what to do about Erestor. He knew he cared deeply for him, that he wanted him to be happy, and he wanted to be the one that gave Erestor that happiness. He wondered why his normally unsentimental friend needed validation of their feelings for one another. He wondered why his actions did not speak louder than words he had not said. Of course, was it fair of him to expect Erestor to think as he did and act as he did? And why was just giving Erestor what he wanted so difficult? On the one hand, being with Erestor was incredibly easy, despite the disagreements and periodic bickering. Erestor knew him, and his friend did not require explanations of his behavior.

They were well suited as lovers, each giving and taking fairly equally. Each seemed to know what the other wanted without being told, and each seemed to find immense satisfaction in the physical aspects of their relationship. However, Erestor needed more than that, and when it came down to the heart of the matter, that is what frightened Glorfindel. When he looked deep inside himself, he knew why he was afraid.

He had so much to atone for. It was not only his own life that had fallen under hardship; it was Erestor's too. He should have told Erestor to stay home. He should have begged him to do so, if necessary. Instead, he allowed himself to be selfish and he readily accepted Erestor's offer of companionship. Now they were both cursed for their deeds and both needed to atone for what could not easily be forgotten or forgiven. It was not fair that Erestor suffer such a burden for acts that he would never have committed on his own. It was not fair that he be cursed when all he did was defend himself.

When the attack on the Teleri occurred, Glorfindel knew what was happening; he had been standing there when Fëanor, in his madness, gave the order to seize the ships by any means necessary, and in his own blind loyalty he had willingly obeyed that command. Erestor had not been privy to this order and was roused from sleep by the sounds of his friends dying. Erestor spilled Telerin blood only because he was defending himself, having arrived after the battle was engaged in full. Glorfindel knew, with every fiber of his being, that Erestor never would have raised his sword against his kindred had he not been forced to in order to stay alive.

This, above all else, weighed upon his spirit and his heart. So much to atone for... yet, his relationship with Erestor could not be based on atonement, and indeed, he knew it was not. His yearning for the dark counselor was real; the ache in his heart when he missed him was real. His love was real. He could afford no more mistakes. He could not hurt Erestor again. Somehow, he had to overcome his fear that he would be inadequate, that he would fail to love Erestor enough. Somehow, he had to find the courage to open his heart, to withhold nothing and to love Erestor as Erestor needed and deserved to be loved.

It was with these thoughts that Glorfindel laid down to sleep, his thoughts and dreams centered on Erestor as he drifted deep into reverie.

* * * *

Thranduil sat upon a low stone bench in Galadriel's garden. He leaned back upon his hands and let his eyes roam over the lush foliage and starlit sky. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the young guardian standing silently by, the Silvan's pale eyes fixed upon him as he avoided Rúmil's gaze. This was quite a conundrum he was faced with. Were they in his realm, he would take the youngling by the hand and discretely lead him to his bedchamber. However, this was not his realm, not some aspiring young courtesan, and he had the untimely misfortune of sharing chambers with his son. While he and Legolas did not have the typical father and son relationship, he was quite sure that Legolas had no interest in listening to his father make love to a young guardian. Then, there was the added problem of appearances. What would Celeborn and Galadriel think of his dalliance with the young guardian? He guessed they would not approve. Still, Rúmil was of an extraordinary beauty: lithe and graceful, every movement was executed with elegant, sedated efficiency. Rúmil's silence was also enticing; the king wondered what thoughts swam around inside the mind of the guardian.

He continued his meditation in silence, keeping the young soldier in the periphery of his field of vision. The cool night air was pregnant with unspoken desire, with words left dangling on the tip of a tongue that promised so much. He knew what the young guardian wanted; he had been the object of such a desire many times before, most recently with the eldest son of Elrond. He did not always indulge himself thusly; however, there were some opportunities that were just too good to pass up.

He struggled to smite the smile that began to curve his lips as he watched the guardian's subtle attempts to move closer without being noticed. Purposefully turning his head and gazing up into a tall mallorn, he opened the door of opportunity for young Rúmil.

"Tell me, Rúmil," he said without looking at his young admirer. "If you could have anything that you want in the wide world at this moment, what would it be?"

Rúmil cleared his throat softly and answered in a quiet voice, "I suppose I would have peace from the Dark Lord's tyranny, for all peoples of Middle-earth."

Thranduil nodded, still fighting to control the grin that threatened to bloom upon his lips. "Such a selfless desire for one so young." With instinct and effortless elegance that he seemed to be born with, Thranduil turned and tilted his head slightly, leveling his dangerous sapphire gaze upon Rúmil. "Are all your wishes so selfless? Or do you sometimes wish for things that would seem to be an indulgence?"

Rúmil felt his face grow hot for what must have been the tenth time that evening, and he lowered his gaze to the ground. "I suppose I sometimes wish for selfish things, things I have no right to ask for."

"Tell me of one of those wishes, Rúmil. It may be within my power to grant it."

"I cannot," Rúmil whispered.

"Why?" Thranduil asked, his gaze pinning Rúmil to the spot.

"I am afraid..."

"Of what?"

"Of the answer..."

"But you will never know the answer if you do not ask the question. Knowing is better than not knowing, would you not agree? What could be worse than an unanswered question that haunts you all of your days?" Thranduil finally allowed himself to smile, but it was not a pleased or mocking smile, it was one that communicated genuine affection. "Be brave in this as you are in all things, my friend. That bravery will be rewarded in kind."

"I would like..." Rúmil swallowed and felt his palms begin to sweat. "I would like...to...kiss you, my lord," he answered with barely more than a whisper.

"How interesting," Thranduil replied. "For I was wishing just now that you would kiss me..."

Rúmil's eyes widened. "Truly?"

Thranduil smiled. "Aye."

The speed with which Rúmil moved was a bit surprising to Thranduil, and he had to catch himself to keep from falling backward off the bench and into the bushes as Rúmil gracefully landed in his lap. The young guardian gently seized the king's face in his hands and pressed their lips together with such wanton ferocity that Thranduil could not suppress the gasp of surprise that escaped him.

His young admirer was no wilting flower, no gentle and delicate rose that needed to be handled with care. Despite his lithe body and elegant movement, Rúmil was as ferocious as a lion when roused by desire. Thranduil opened his mouth, yielding to Rúmil's heated assault as his hands traveled to the small of the archer's back. The young guardian slowly arched into his hands, moving with a slight and gentle rocking motion that was utterly intoxicating. He felt his body responding to the sensual rolling of the guardian's hips, to the warm, sweet tongue that invaded his mouth, to the strong archer's fingers tangling in his hair and the soft, deep moans of one lost in pleasure. It was with an amused sense of surprise that Thranduil found himself moaning in kind as their mouths moved against each other and they slowly found their shared rhythm.

Lovemaking was like dancing, not meant to be choreographed and planned, but meant to be performed freely and without restraint. Two bodies coming together, exploring, melding, until they move as one, each seeking self-abandonment and immersion in the other. Thranduil lost himself in the music of Rúmil's moans and sighs, allowed his hands and mouth to explore without pretense or restraint; and Rúmil responded beautifully, giving so freely, softly whispering pleas for more.

"Take me to my bed," the young guardian purred into Thranduil's ear.

"Gladly, my beauty," Thranduil answered as he allowed Rúmil to rise from his lap and take his hand, guiding him to his private talan.

To be continued...

Summary: Thranduil and Rúmil get to know one another more intimately; Lindir has a visitor.

Stumbling backward through the talan door, Thranduil quickly worked the clasps on Rúmil's tunic as his young lover consumed his mouth. He had not acted with such abandon since he was not much older than Rúmil. Their hands clutched at each other; mouths consumed each other... it was if it were his first time all over again.

Before Rúmil's unexpected, yet graceful, landing in his lap, Thranduil had wondered how worldly the young guardian would be, given his age and shyness. All thoughts of Rúmil's potential innocence were abandoned after that first kiss; this was no naive young elf. Passionate moans intensified, and Thranduil could feel the evidence of Rúmil's heated desire pressing and rubbing up against his own. It was all happening rather fast, even for him, and he found himself becoming caught up in the youthful urgency of it all.

"Valar..." Rúmil whispered. "Never have I tasted one so intoxicating. What they say about you is true, my lord."

Thranduil chuckled as he quickly pulled Rúmil's tunic from his body. "I am most glad that I am not a disappointment, my young beauty," Thranduil purred in response.

"Disappointment?" Rúmil breathed, as the king's hands roamed freely over his bare chest. "How could you ever be such? So beautiful, so powerful..."

A smile curved Thranduil's lips as his tunic fell open and Rúmil laid eyes upon his bare chest. He slipped the garment from his shoulders and tossed it upon a chair by the door. Rúmil began pressing soft kisses to his bared flesh, starting at his shoulders then meandering left to right, gradually travelling lower with each soft touch of his mouth. Thranduil closed his eyes and enjoyed the velvety soft caresses of the guardian's lips. It was like being worshipped, and it was not the first time he had experienced such a sensation.

Now that they stood at the foot of the marchwarden's bed, the desperateness with which Rúmil had touched him and kissed him was tempered but not satiated. Rúmil seemed to be in awe of him. This was slightly amusing to Thranduil; he never understood why he seemed to inspire this reaction in lovers. As for Rúmil, the king found the young guardian to be an intoxicating combination of strong and soft, ferocious and gentle, thoughtful and brave.

He assumed the delicacy with which Rúmil touched him now came from a sense of respect. He was a king, and Rúmil was but a foot soldier, a young guardian of the Galadhrim. This reverence in the heat of passion was a trained response, and he imagined that this young guardian had some experience with being a lover to one of higher social stature. He took two fingers and placed them beneath Rúmil's chin, tilting the marchwarden's head up so that their eyes met.

"I am not a fragile creature, my friend," he murmured. "I may be king, but I am also a warrior like you."

"I can see and feel your strength," Rúmil answered. "I am also aware of your reputation as a fierce warrior. I suppose I feel that one so great and beautiful should be treated with reverence. My actions earlier were uncouth, born from a desire that has been growing with every moment in your presence. Do not think that I lack passion or enthusiasm for you, my lord."

Thranduil smiled and caressed Rúmil's cheek. "Let us have one thing be known between us, Rúmil," Thranduil answered softly. "If you and I are to share a bed, I will not have my lot in life stand as a wall between us. If you and I are to become lovers, then within these walls, when we are alone, I am not a king. I am merely a soldier like you, an elf who counts himself fortunate to have so beautiful and wise a lover. You do not serve me."

Rúmil felt his face flush and he smiled. "Is that what we are to become? Lovers?"

Thranduil smiled. "I am not in the habit of using others purely for my own satisfaction. Where this relationship goes from this moment will be known to us in time."

"Then I am the most fortunate elf in all of Elvendom, my lord," Rúmil answered.

"Rúmil."

"Yes, my lord?"

"You must stop calling me that. I am not your lord, I am your lover."

"Then what shall I call you?"

"Calling me by my name might be a good beginning."

Rúmil smiled again. "Yes, Thranduil."

"Excellent. Now, kiss me."

Rúmil complied, rising to the balls of his feet and wrapping his arms around his lover's neck. Thranduil lifted him and carried him to the bed as Rúmil wrapped his long legs around his waist.

* * * *

Lindir walked slowly through the twilit garden. As Ithil began her nightly rise in the eastern sky and Anor retreated to the west, the smell of jasmine and gardenia was beginning to scent the air. This time of year, when spring began to wane and summer was nearly born, was one of his favorite times. The air was crisp, but not too cold, and it felt refreshing after a long day cloistered in the library transcribing contracts and letters.

He moved to a low bench to watch Anor's western trek, then looked down at his hands as he slowly rubbed them together. His fingertips were stained with ink and he rubbed absently at a callus that had begun to form on the side of his right forefinger. "More soaking in vinegar," he grumbled to himself. It was the only thing that would remove the dark stains from his fingers. With Lord Elrond away, Erestor's duties were doubled, which meant his own were also. It had been weeks since he had been able to pick up his lyre and practice.

"Some almond oil on your hands after the vinegar will keep them soft..."

He turned on his bench to see Gildor standing behind him. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"Long enough to see you enter the garden, sit down, and talk to yourself," Gildor answered with a smile.

"I did not see you when I came in."

"No one sees me unless I want them to."

"Of course. You are a scout and a warrior, this should not surprise me." Lindir looked at his hands again. "They are frightful," he muttered.

Gildor moved to sit beside Lindir and took one of his hands in his own, turning it over gently and caressing the palm and fingers. "I would not say so. My hands are far worse than yours are. See?"

Lindir returned the gesture to Gildor, taking the warrior's hands and examining them. They were strong, muscular hands, formed by ages of wielding swords and bows. The only defect he could see was that the skin was a little dry from months spent in the winter elements.

"They are only a little dry," Lindir answered, as he began stretching and flexing the fingers. "And perhaps a little stiff..." Gildor smiled as he watched the minstrel massage and work his hands. In truth, it felt very good, for they were stiff from months in the cold and hard work. "How do you know about removing stains?" Lindir continued.

"Blood," Gildor answered. "I have often had to remove it after slaughtering yrch and wargs."

Lindir felt a tremor run the length of his spine. In the libraries and music rooms of Imladris, he was somewhat sheltered from the goings on of the world. As he held Gildor's hands, hands that had killed orch, warg, man, and elf alike, he was reminded of his own naivete. "Of course," he murmured.

They sat for a long time, neither speaking, both watching the sky darken. After several minutes, Lindir realized he was still holding Gildor's hands, and that the guardian and protector of their home had not tried to remove them from his gentle grasp. "How long are you here for?" he asked softly.

"Until the start of Laer*," Gildor answered quietly. "My reward for service during a long and bitter Rhîw*." A few more moments passed and Lindir seemed reluctant to release his hands. This made Gildor smile. He had often thought of Lindir as a lovely and talented elf, and he had always taken every opportunity to listen to the minstrel sing when he was at the Last Homely House. Lindir's voice reminded him of happier days in Aman, before the world was darkened and their journey eastward begun.

He looked at the minstrel in the growing darkness. Ithil's light was beginning to shine and illuminate the garden, and it cast a silver sheen upon his fair hair. Lindir's eyes scanned the sky, gazing at the stars that twinkled upon the bed of midnight velvet. A smile would quirk the corners of his full lips as the passing gossamer clouds briefly took the shape of birds or rabbit, or another worldly creature. Gildor would have been smiling at those shapes too, were his attention not fully enthrall to Lindir's beauty. Instead, he was content to gaze upon the young minstrel and drink in his loveliness with his eyes, wondering what it must be like to have lived and grown into adulthood without ever knowing violence or death. 'It is why he sings so beautifully,' Gildor mused. 'His songs are full of hope, hope that only one who has been spared pain can know...' This was why he spent months uncounted in the wilds of Middle-earth, to protect those like Lindir, so that they may live their lives in peace and never know the pain of war or death. That made night after night of sleeping upon the frozen ground easier.

Lindir took a deep breath, as if waking from reverie and turned his gaze to Gildor. "We will be late for the evening meal," he said softly.

Gildor smiled. "Aye. Then we best be getting on our way. Lady Arwen will be cross if we arrive at the table late."

Lindir smiled and chuckled. "Aye, she will." He rose from his place on the bench, still holding Gildor's hands. "I need to wash my hands," he murmured.

"So do I," Gildor answered as he rose from the bench as well.

"Come." Lindir smiled and cocked his head.

Gildor nodded and followed, hand in hand with the young minstrel.

* * * *

Rúmil grasped the smooth birch that made up the headboard of his bed, and arched his back as he groaned aloud. It was not clear which was more maddening, the soft caress of flaxen silk upon his heated and sensitive skin, or the wicked, sinful, luscious mouth that tormented him so. Tongue, teeth, lips... all worked together to bring his passion into a frenzied state that nearly had him weeping with need. Thranduil held his legs apart, the king's strong hands planted firmly on the insides of his bent knees, bearing his most intimate places to his predatory gaze and his skilled mouth.

A nip to the inside of his upper thigh caused him to whimper and twitch, his thigh muscles quivering as they strained against his lover's powerful grip. Sweat began to bead upon his skin, and he felt Thranduil's tongue sliding through it, drinking it off him as if it were the sweetest nectar. A string of profane words spilled from his tongue as his lover took the swollen pouch of velvety skin in his mouth, and he arched again, his fingers gripping the smooth birch branches with incredible force.

His arousal lay in the juncture of his hip and thigh, ignored and turgid, weeping from the tip. How long he could endure this sensual torment was unknown, but he felt he was rapidly approaching the edge. He gripped the headboard tighter; it was the only thing keeping him grounded as he approached the apex of his unendurable climb toward climax. Finally, pleading words escaped his lips in a rough whisper, the pulsating in his loins being unbearable.

He cried out as his body was breached by his lover's skilled tongue and a hoarse gasp escaped him as Thranduil's hand gripped the base of his rigid length, preventing his release. Tears slipped from his eyes and he bit his lip as his body coiled in on itself, his muscles tightening as his length twitched in his lover's fist. Still that tongue worked him into a frenzy, into a seemingly never ending upward spiral of lust.

He cursed again as his long ignored arousal was engulfed by a hot, wet embrace and he whispered pleas to touch his lover. A long, slow lick of the king's tongue preceded the answer to his request, and he plunged his hands into the mass of flaxen silk that began to move up and down along his length.

It was not long before the long climb ended and he fell, tumbling with abandon as his climax roared through his body unchecked. A strangled cry left his lips as he spilled himself down his lover's throat, then he collapsed in a boneless heap upon his bed. Each soft kiss, each caress of his lover's tongue along his softening length sent tremors through his body. He could do naught but tremble and whimper until his lover's lips hovered over his own.

He forced his eyes open and smiled weakly, reaching up with a trembling hand to caress Thranduil's face. He trembled as the king stretched along the length of his body, his warmth covering him like a blanket. His lover's arousal pressed into his hip and he weakly moved to please him when Thranduil stopped him by placing his hands upon his shoulders and pinning him to the bed.

"Ssshhh, my beauty," Thranduil whispered. "Lie still, revel in this feeling. Let me hold you..."

Rúmil wrapped his trembling arms around Thranduil's waist and nestled his head against the king's shoulder. "Umhmm..." he murmured sleepily, and he sunk into the warm afterglow of his spent desire, then slowly drifted into reverie.

To be continued...

Summary: Legolas and Haldir have a rough start; Thranduil makes a proposition to Rúmil.

Legolas leaned against the trunk of a mallorn, his gaze drifting through the treetops. The White Council had adjourned but nothing felt resolved. Saruman would be withdrawing to Orthanc, that ancient fortress of Gondor. Gandalf would wander east toward Gondor and Rohan, Radagast would return to his home deep in the woods, and the Nazgûl were to remain unchallenged in Dol Guldur. His father had lobbied strenuously for aid to drive the Nazgûl out, and he had been supported by the Lord and Lady of the Wood, Elrond, Glorfindel, and Gandalf, but to no avail. Círdan was reluctant to call in his warriors from the Havens; they were too small in number and would leave his port unprotected. Radagast, too preoccupied with his own thoughts, said nothing, and Saruman flat out refused.

They could launch an assault on their own, but without the help of the White Wizard, they would suffer many losses, and most likely fail. So, three days of meetings ended with nothing resolved. He was sure that war was coming. Anor was sinking below the tops of the Misty Mountains and Ithil was rising in the east. The eastern sky seemed to grow darker by the day, and each night Ithil's light was slower in coming to their home.

Haldir stood some distance away from the prince, wondering how best to approach him. He had word from Glorfindel that the meetings did not go how the prince had hoped, and the Elda seemed reluctant to provide an introduction given the circumstances. While the skies were fair in the Golden Wood, due in large part to the power of the Lady Galadriel, the skies above the Anduin and Mirkwood were storming, and heavy rains were causing streams to breach their banks; the Anduin was swollen and running dangerously fast. Legolas and his father would need to stay for a few days, until it was safe to cross and return to their home. He feared if he waited for Glorfindel, his opportunity would be lost and he would not have the prince leave without even a conversation.

"You watch me," Legolas said quietly.

Haldir flinched, not realizing that the prince was aware of his presence. "I was wondering how best to approach you, my lord," he answered softly.

Legolas turned slowly, his gaze locking upon Haldir's own. "Have you something to say to me?" he asked quietly.

"Aye. I am sorry that things have not gone as you hoped they would. I, for one, would have been honored to fight beside you."

Legolas turned his back to Haldir and answered, "Do not speak false to me, captain. I know that you had no desire to go to war outside your borders. Just like you did not desire to admit my father and me into your realm, for you knew we were here to entreat your Lord and Lady for aid." He raised his hand, preventing Haldir from responding. "'Tis no matter, you are not required to fight for anyone other than your own people, and soon, your kindred will be the only elves left, east of the mountains. Of course, your home is under the protection of the Lady Galadriel, and Imladris would gladly ride to your aid should you be of need. So you and yours will be safe, while me and my own will fall under the blade of the Úlairi."

Haldir felt his face flush with anger; never had anyone spoken to him thusly. In addition to the anger he felt, he felt shame, for the prince's words were not completely false. But, regardless of his reluctance to be involved in the battles of other elven realms, he did not wish to see his kindred in Mirkwood exterminated.

"With all due respect, my lord," he began slowly and deliberately. "I have no wish to see your realm fall under attack, nor suffer the yoke of thralldom to the Dark Lord..."

Legolas wheeled around and barked, "No elf of Mirkwood will suffer such a fate! We will all die fighting before such a thing would happen!"

"Your manner is impertinent!" Haldir growled. "We are your hosts, my Lord and Lady petitioned on your behalf, and this is how you treat us?"

Legolas glared at Haldir then turned his back again, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Haldir stared at the prince's back for several moments, waiting for a response but received none. He began to leave, but thought the better of it, and turned back to Legolas. The prince's head hung down, his shimmering, flaxen hair hiding his face. His strong archer's fingers gripped his elbows and his shoulders slumped. The defeat in his posture caused Haldir's heart to swell with sympathy and he quietly stepped forward and placed his hand upon Legolas' shoulder.

"Leave me be," the prince said softly.

Haldir ignored the request and turned the prince, taking him into his arms and holding him close to his chest.

"Let go of me," Legolas said weakly.

Again, Haldir ignored him and held him close. After several minutes, he felt the prince's arms wrap around him and he cradled Legolas' head on his shoulder. He said nothing. He merely held Legolas, allowing him to lean against him. A long sigh escaped the prince and he heard him whisper, "Forgive me. I have treated you horribly..."

"I understand," Haldir answered. "You are forgiven."

"I do not want to lose my home. Each time one of my warriors falls, part of me dies as well..."

"I know. I feel the same way."

"He is winning. He will take it all. My home, your home... He will not stop until this world is covered in darkness. There will be none left who remember how it once was."

"Think not such thoughts, my prince," Haldir answered. After a long pause, he continued tentatively, "Perhaps the time has come for us to leave these lands, to sail into the West and embrace the home of our kind."

"This is my home," Legolas answered quietly. "It is the only home I have ever known. I cannot bear to think I have spent most of my life fighting for it only to lose it in the end..."

Haldir closed his eyes and sighed. "You will not lose it, my lord. In the end, darkness cannot triumph against light; not when you and those like you continue to fight against it."

Legolas pulled back and gazed into Haldir's eyes. He reached up and touched the marchwarden's face. "You are one like me, Haldir. I see it in your eyes. You live for your duty, yet you know there is more..."

Haldir swallowed and closed his eyes. He wondered how the prince did it, how he could look into his eyes and see what others did not. He felt Legolas' fingers softly exploring his face, ghosting over his forehead, his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips, and finally his ears. A shuddering sigh escaped him as Legolas' fingertips caressed the curve of his ear, and he found that he was quickly becoming lost in the prince's touch.

"I have endured enough disappointment for one day," Legolas murmured near Haldir's lips. "I would not have you disappoint me as well..."

"No, my lord," Haldir whispered, the sensual caress of Legolas' fingers upon his ear melting his strength.

"Come, my friend," Legolas murmured. "Let us see how many other ways we are alike..."

Before Haldir could answer, his mouth was taken by Legolas' lips. A soft moan escaped him and he pulled the prince closer, pressing their bodies together. The kiss set him on fire, he clutched at Legolas with a desperate wanting, wadding the suede of the prince's tunic in his fingers. Legolas own soft moans were driving him mad, as was the sensation of the prince's fingers tangling in his hair. They separated and Legolas took his hand, leading him toward his talan. He followed, aware for the first time of just how helpless he was to the prince's charms.

* * * *

Thranduil sighed as he sank down into the warm water of the spring. It had been a long and fruitless three days. Were it not for Rúmil's attentions, he would be sorry they had come in the first place. He still believed Saruman to be false, though he had no proof of this. At any rate, the Council was disbanded and Círdan and Elrond would depart in the morning and return to their homes west of the Misty Mountains. The Wizards had already left, and he and Legolas would depart for home as soon as the rains abated.

Being so far from his home made him anxious. While he had left his realm in capable hands, hands he trusted, he still felt uneasy about being absent. Each day his woods grew more dangerous and his soldiers came under greater threat. The borders of his lands were shrinking; they drew further to the north with each passing year. Again he wished, as he so often did, that he had sent Legolas into the west with his mother, rather than selfishly keeping his son with him.

As he was preoccupied with these dark thoughts, he smelled lilac and heather, and felt the soft, silken ends of his lover's hair brush his ears. He opened his eyes and saw Rúmil leaning over him, a smile curving his lover's lips.

"You watch over me," he said softly.

"I always will," Rúmil answered.

"I am lucky to have such fierce protectors as you and my son."

Rúmil smiled. "I doubt you need much protection. You are, no doubt, stronger than me."

Thranduil smiled and reached up, caressing Rúmil's cheek with his damp fingertips. "Strength is not what matters most, my young lover...cunning, that is what will keep you alive."

Rúmil nodded and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lover's waiting lips.

"Join me," Thranduil replied softly.

Rúmil nodded and regained his feet, removing his garments and folding them neatly before placing them upon a bench by the spring. He waded into the warm water, then gracefully deposited himself in his lover's lap. He smiled and sighed as their bodies came into contact, the king's warm flesh against his own, his powerful hands coming to rest upon his hips. He liked the feeling of Thranduil's body, its solidity, its power and its size. He loved lying underneath him, feeling the weight of the king's larger form atop his own. While he was, himself, no weakling, he was smaller in size and stature and he found that Thranduil's larger size made him feel safe in a strange way.

He combed his lover's hair back behind his elegantly pointed ears with his fingers, and then leaned forward to gently suckle the sparkling gemstone that adorned his kingly lover's earlobe. Many thought that the wearing of gems like this was some heathen, primitive act. The fact that Thranduil's ears and body were pierced and decorated with mithril and sparkling gems was the subject of much hushed gossip. But Rúmil found the king's raw sexuality exciting; it was one of the things that had attracted him to the mysterious Sindar King in the first place. He loved how Thranduil was completely unconcerned and unfazed by the gossip that often surrounded him. Regardless what elves may whisper in privacy of their homes, there was no doubt that this Sindar commanded respect, and got it. Many wondered if the king didn't possess some strange magic, for he brazenly rode into battle and often left the field unscathed, despite the odds against him. While Rúmil had never seen Thranduil in battle, he had heard tales. The king was an awesome sight, inspiring fear in all but the most terrible of foes. All these things, some imagined and constructed, some true, were what drew Rúmil to him.

He had been the lover of powerful elves before, and was himself a quiet and dutiful young elf, always mindful of his duty and position. He knew how to act in court, how to defer to his elders without losing respect, and how to attend to a lord's needs and desires without being subservient. Thranduil never asked these things of him, however. Thranduil only asked that he be himself with no pretense. While it was the king's mystique that drew him in, it was his honest and thoughtful nature that held him there. All he could think of was pleasing his lover, for his reward for doing so was all he could wish for. The deep sighs that left his lover's lips, the resonant moans, the flushing of his skin, the sight of him lost in passion was reward in itself. Yet, Thranduil never left him unsatisfied, and his physical reward was the most memorable and wonderful lovemaking he had ever experienced.

He felt his lover's hands gently kneading the flesh of his lower back as he slowly continued his ministrations. Soft, deep, quiet moans left Thranduil's lips, his warm breath ghosting over the flesh of his neck. Rúmil paused and whispered, "I do not want you to go..."

"I would take you with me," Thranduil answered. "For I am not yet ready to give you up. We still have so much to learn about one another..."

"Would you? Really?" Rúmil drew back and held his lover's face in his hands. "You would really take me with you, back to Mirkwood?"

Thranduil smiled and pulled Rúmil closer. "Aye, if you would agree to come, and if your Lord and Lady would allow it."

"How would Legolas feel about it?"

Thranduil smiled and pressed a brief kiss to Rúmil's lips. "What makes me happy makes my son happy, Rúmil. I do think the two of you would get along quite well."

Rúmil brought his lips closer to Thranduil's. "I will ask for permission then, to accompany you back to Mirkwood." He pressed a kiss to Thranduil's lips, opening his mouth as his lover's hands traveled into his hair and he yielded to Thranduil's claiming kiss.

* * * *

Haldir sat in a wide chair, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, watching Legolas sleep. The prince lay upon his stomach, the sheets resting just above the swell of his buttocks, his flaxen hair fanned out across his bare back. He watched the rise and fall of his torso as he breathed and admired the way the starlight caused his skin to glow.

While things had not began the way he had hoped, they were certainly finishing as he wanted. Legolas was a wonderful lover, giving as much as he took, as commanding as he was yielding. The prince was everything Haldir had ever wanted in a lover: strong yet gentle, fiery and wise, and passionate, very passionate. It was everything he wanted; yet, something was missing. No doubt, the prince pleased him and he pleased the prince. But it was as if part of Legolas was not really there. He furrowed his brow and mentally chastised himself. Legolas had just come out of three days of Council meetings, none of which had gone the way he hoped. Of course the prince would be distracted. It was not like him to feel this way, to feel so on the edge of irrationality.

'We do not know one another yet,' he thought to himself. 'We have just made a connection. I am expecting too much too soon...'

Legolas moaned softly and stirred in his sleep, rolling to his back and reaching across to the place that Haldir had just occupied. He groped at the covers then opened his eyes, sitting up to find his new lover in a chair beside the bed. He smiled sleepily and muttered, "What are you doing over there?"

"I was just preparing to leave," Haldir answered. "I do not imagine your father would be too pleased to return and find me here."

Legolas frowned. "My father is preoccupied with his own pursuits. Besides, I do not need his approval to take a lover."

"Of course, I did not mean to suggest..."

"Haldir."

"Yes?"

"Come here."

Haldir smiled and rose from his seat, returning to the bed and the prince's arms.

To be continued...

Summary: Erestor misses Glorfindel; Elladan and Elrohir play games; Gildor and Lindir embark on an adventure.

Erestor sat up in bed and stretched. He woefully glanced at the empty place next to him and wondered when his lover would return. He rubbed his face with his hands as he yawned and slowly woke, then laid his head upon his arms, which he folded over his bent knees. "They should be on their way soon," he mumbled to himself, "if all went well."

The sun shown brightly through the sheer draperies that covered the doors leading to his veranda. He listened to the sound of birds singing; they were on the feeder that Glorfindel made for him for his begetting day present. A smile curved his lips when he thought of his lover and his best friend. No one had done more for him than Glorfindel, except for maybe Elrond. His lover was always thoughtful; he paid close attention to his wants and needs, always observant of what made him happy. The bird feeder was an excellent example. Glorfindel knew he loved birds, and his lover knew that making the feeder for him with his own hands meant more than having it made by an artisan. It was not the most elaborate or most beautiful feeder, but it was sturdy, it survived the occasional raids by the squirrels, and the birds loved it. From early spring to late autumn, he woke to the song of birds, and each morning a smile came to his lips. It was a smile that Glorfindel put there with the giving of this gift.

Since the beginning of their relationship, they had stumbled, more than once. They had each strayed from the other, but never for long. Erestor had the feeling that neither of them would stray ever again, for he knew that no one could replace Glorfindel in his heart and he suspected his lover had come to the same conclusion. It was time to be patient; he needed to give Glorfindel time to work out whatever it was that kept him from giving of himself fully. He swore to himself that he would never doubt his lover again.

He took a deep breath and sat up again, stretching his arms over his head. He had much to do that day, having given Lindir the day off. He had been working his good friend and assistant to death; Lindir had earned a respite from his duties. He and Elladan would be meeting with some traders from Bree that afternoon to negotiate a trade of wheat for some blackberry brandy that the Bree-landers were famous for. Erestor hoped to obtain enough for a celebration upon his lord's return. He pulled back the covers and slid his feet into his slippers, then made his way into his bathing chamber to prepare for the day's work.

* * * *

Elladan stared into Elrohir's eyes. His twin's face was just inches from his own, so close that he could feel Elrohir's breath upon his lips. He flexed and coiled his fingers, hearing the silk cord creak softly against his wrists.

"Is it too tight?" Elrohir breathed, his eyes fluttering shut.

"No," Elladan answered. "How much longer?"

"I do not know," Elrohir answered. "I... I think I cannot stand it, then I find away to continue..." He moved slightly, rising a small bit then sinking back down again.

Elladan clenched his jaw, feeling a desperate moan building within his chest. He breathed in deeply then whispered, "It is well past dawn, getting out of here without being seen will be interesting..." Elrohir laughed softly, causing him to groan quietly in return.

"Do you want me to stop?" Elrohir asked.

"No..."

"What do you want me to do?" Elrohir murmured against the sweat-slickened flesh of his twin's throat.

"I am beyond knowing," Elladan whispered. "I could die like this, with you here, with you surrounding me..."

"I do not want that," Elrohir purred, his teeth grazing his brother's jugular vein.

"Do you not feel as though you are about to burst?" Elladan whispered, his words dissolving into a plaintive moan as Elrohir moved again.

"Yes..." Elrohir answered. His arousal pulsated painfully, wept ceaselessly despite the ring that bound it at the base. "Shall I bring an end to it, my brother?"

"Please... I cannot go any further, as good as it feels..."

Elrohir gripped the top of the tall back of the chair and began rocking, rising, and falling upon his brother's lap with a quickening rhythm. He buried his face in his twin's hair as Elladan leaned his head back, moaning desperately as Elrohir rode out his desire. A plaintive cry escaped Elladan's lips as his body tightened and he spilled himself deep inside Elrohir. Elrohir swallowed his twin's cries, consuming Elladan's mouth with voracious hunger.

"Untie me," Elladan growled as Elrohir released his mouth. He gasped as Elrohir rose from his lap and began untying his wrists and ankles. Despite the groaning complaint of his muscles, he grasped his twin's shoulders and pinned him to the rug, descending upon Elrohir's lap with his mouth.

Elrohir cried out as he was quickly engulfed in heated, wet suction, and he arched his back against the floor as his brother skillfully worked his length. "Please, Elladan," he groaned. The ring clicked open and he cried out as he emptied himself down his twin's throat.

The room was cool as the fire had died out overnight, and the sweat that beaded his skin caused gooseflesh to rise as Elladan licked him clean. Trembling beneath his brother's ministrations, he reached down to caress Elladan's hair with his fingers, and watched as his twin slowly made his way up his torso, depositing kisses along the way. He sighed as Elladan came to rest atop him, his fingers caressing his twin's ears as Elladan's face hovered over his own.

"I love you," Elrohir whispered.

Elladan smiled. No answer was required of him. He nipped his twin's chin, then nibbled at its soft underside. Elrohir laughed softly, it was a place that was always ticklish. "You are cold," he murmured against the soft flesh of his twin's throat. "Bathe with me..."

"Yes," Elrohir answered with a smile. He held out his hands as Elladan rose off his body, and allowed his twin to pull him to his feet and into his arms.

"Next time," Elladan playfully grumbled, "we begin this game before we go to sleep... I have a long day ahead of me and terraces to climb without being seen..."

Elrohir chuckled and hugged his twin tight. "Agreed... we should bathe quickly so you can return to your room before the gardeners begin their work outside." He followed Elladan into his bathing chamber, smiling at his twin as they prepared the bath.

* * * *

Lindir looked at himself in the mirror. He turned and checked the fit of his tunic and leggings, then adjusted his braid. He had a few duties to attend to with his fellow musicians after the morning meal, and then he and Gildor were going riding in the forest. Gildor had planned a long ride and picnic lunch, wanting to show Lindir something near the Bruinen. The friendship that had blossomed between them was somewhat of a surprise to Lindir. They had little in common except that they both loved music and they both loved nature. Gildor loved music but had no talent for it; and Lindir loved the artful dance that Gildor performed as he practiced his swordplay, but could never do it himself.

He supposed that was what drew them together. In a strange way, each was something the other was not and they somehow, together, made a complete portrait. He spoke to his Lord Erestor about it, for Erestor and Glorfindel's relationship was similar in the regard that they were two very different elves. Erestor had just smiled and said not to over-think it, and to take things as they came each day. He was glad that Erestor was no longer angry with Gildor about the mishap involving Glorfindel; it would be difficult to pursue this path if Erestor did not approve. Lindir did not need Erestor's approval, but the advisor was his best friend, and it was important to Lindir that he like his new friend.

Lindir smiled as he left his bedchamber. He looked forward to the afternoon's activities and to getting to know Gildor better.

* * * *

Gildor sat outside on the veranda adjacent to the main dining hall. The coming of spring weather had inspired the inhabitants of Imladris to venture outside more often. While it was still cool in the mornings, elves were resilient creatures and were not too uncomfortable with the brisk air. Lady Arwen had directed the staff to setup tables and chairs on the veranda outside the dining hall, which was on the eastern side of the house. The stone porch was bathed in Anor's light, surrounded by blossoming fruit trees and dogwood, and the guests would enjoy their morning meal amongst the sounds of birds singing and bees buzzing.

Having arrived early, Gildor selected a table near the low stone railing of the terrace and sipped his tea, enjoying the view of the eastern valley with its meadows of tall grass and heather. The valley floor was surrounded by forested hills, which climbed to join steep cliffs capped by snow. As the snow was beginning to melt, the waterfalls, which Imladris was famous for, ran swift, melting snow feeding the upper rivers and cascading in violent white-capped torrents over the edges of the cliffs. The sound of rushing water blended with the sound of birds singing, to create an environment that was full of life. The world was waking after a long slumber.

The inhabitants were beginning to arrive, filing by the long banquet table and perusing the various dishes the kitchen staff had prepared. Gildor glanced, now and again, at the open doorway that led into the dining hall, looking for his dining partner. He and Lindir would enjoy the morning meal together before attending to a few errands, and then he planned to show the minstrel the western reaches of Imladris, across the Bruinen. He had been surprised when Lindir had told him he had never ventured west of the valley proper. The minstrel had traveled to Lórien once, in the summer, and had taken the mountain passes before they became too dangerous.

Gildor had been surprised again, when he learned that Lindir was a survivor of the attack on Eregion, and had come to Imladris with his parents after the city fell. He had been young then, a small elfling, and he had not left Imladris since his arrival. Lindir's parents had sailed into the West, but he had not accompanied them as he was not yet ready to leave his home in Middle-earth. Lindir did not remember the fall of Eregion or the massacre of the elves there. His life had been one of peace in Imladris, despite the dangerous and violent times of his infancy. Gildor had been touched by Lindir's tale, and he found himself, in the days since hearing it, trying to recall him amongst the thousands of young ones they had saved.

As he glanced toward the door again, he saw his dining companion step out onto the veranda. He stood and raised his hand, then smiled as Lindir raised his in return, leaving Erestor's side and coming toward him. A smile curved his lips as he watched Lindir approach; the minstrel was radiant. He was dressed in tan riding pants and boots, a deep auburn tunic, and had his hair pulled into a single, flaxen braid that ended just above his buttocks. Lindir was tall, lithe, and graceful beyond the measure of many of his kindred. He had a voice that raised gooseflesh on Gildor's body and long, agile fingers that worked his lyre with unparalleled skill. Elves far and wide had heard tell of the minstrel's talent. He was widely regarded as the finest musician in Middle-earth.

"Good morning, my friend." Gildor greeted him with a smile, taking both of Lindir's elegant hands in his own larger ones. "We will have a beautiful ride this afternoon, if this morning is any indication..."

Lindir smiled and leaned in, kissing Gildor once on each cheek. "I am looking forward to it. I have not been riding since last Laer*." He tugged upon Gildor's hands. "Come, cook has prepared many delicious things this morning. Let us get some before they are all picked over."

Gildor nodded and followed Lindir to the banquet table.

Arwen watched the unlikely pair from her table, which sat upon a raised section of the veranda, underneath a blossoming cherry tree. A smile graced her fair face as she watched Lindir and Gildor together. She could think of no two elves more deserving of one another, except for possibly Glorfindel and Erestor. Lindir would be good for Gildor, she thought, and Gildor good for Lindir. The studious minstrel and scribe needed a life outside Erestor's offices and the music halls, and Gildor had seen all the world. Who better to show Lindir all that he had been missing? And Gildor, that elf had spent the better part of his life wandering the wilds of Middle-earth; he needed something, someone to come home to. He needed someone to call his own, something besides duty to keep him warm at night.

"My Lady Arwen."

She looked up to see Erestor standing beside her and she smiled. He held out his hand and she took it, rising from her chair and joining the others in the banquet line. Her brothers arrived shortly after Erestor, and kissed her cheeks as they stepped in line behind her and the advisor. She thought to herself that the only thing preventing the morning from being perfect was the absence of her father and mother, and Estel.

* * * *

To the east, Master Elrond, Lord Glorfindel and their entourage galloped through the Gap of Rohan, followed closely by Lord Círdan, Galdor and the elves from the Grey Havens. Saruman watched from his place in his high tower, his gaze following the elves as his spies followed Gandalf. In Mirkwood and the Vales of the Anduin, dark skies thundered and rain fell in torrents from the sky. In Lórien, a prince slept in the arms of a marchwarden, and a king made love to a young guardian. Among them, the Lady Galadriel gazed into her mirror, looking for answers she was unsure she wished to see.

The world was changing...

To be continued...

* Laer = Sindarin word for summer

Summary: Lindir and Gildor get to know one another; Thranduil sees something that causes some concern.

Lindir walked down the long path that led from the main house to the stables; Gildor was waiting for him, leaning up against the doorjamb and pulling on his gloves. He smiled and waived, embracing his friend when he arrived. As he put his arms around Gildor, he noticed the quiver strapped to his back.

"What is this?" he asked softly.

"I never ride afield without at least carrying my bow," Gildor answered.

Lindir furrowed his brow. "Do you anticipate trouble?"

Gildor smiled. "No. But I do believe in being prepared for all eventualities." He took Lindir's hand. "Come, there is no need to worry, my friend. I am merely being cautious."

Lindir smiled again and nodded, following Gildor into the stables. As he groomed his horse, he watched Gildor loading his large bay gelding with a knapsack that contained something for them to eat later. He wondered to himself how many times he had seen Gildor doing what he was doing in that moment; only those times, the elf lord had been leaving for an extended patrol in the wilderness, not a picnic on a sunny day. His hand moved in slow, soft circles on his mare's back as he gently curried her shedding winter coat. She turned her head and nudged his elbow, as if to remind him to focus on his task, rather than stare at Gildor.

Gildor chuckled at the mare's gentle nudging, and Lindir realized he had been caught staring. He blushed a little then mumbled something about cleaning out her hooves.

"I did that for you already," Gildor answered. "I hope you don't mind, but I arrived at the barn early and thought I would get her started before you arrived."

"Thank you..." Lindir answered, still trying to control the rise of color in his cheeks.

"Come," Gildor said with a grin. "Let us depart before too much of the morning is wasted."

Lindir smiled shyly then led his mare from her stall and out into the paddock area. They both swung up onto their horses' backs then left the courtyard with a slow jog.

* * * *

A shuddering sigh left Rúmil's lips as his lover's weight came to rest upon his back. He smiled as Thranduil gently pulled his unbound hair from his neck and deposited gentle kisses at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Ithil was rising, casting her silver glow down through the branches of the tall mellyrn. The waters of the Celebrant flowed gently over pebbles smoothed from ages of the water's caress, creating a soft bubbling sound. Thranduil's hands rested on top of Rúmil's own; their fingers were entwined and Rúmil closed his own, drawing his lover's arms closer around him. He laughed softly as his kingly lover tickled the back of his earlobe with his tongue and he arched his back and squirmed against Thranduil's solid form.

Thranduil laughed softly and sultrily as his young guardian squirmed deliciously against him. His length was still embedded in Rúmil's body, the heat caused by their lovemaking warding off the chill of the late spring night. His visit to Lórien, while contentious at times, had been punctuated by moments like these: moments of utter peace and bliss, when all things were reduced to their most simple and pure form. In that moment, he was not a king of a beleaguered land, not a father who feared for his son's safety, nor a weary soldier that had seen too much of battle. In that moment, he was just an elf relaxing in the bed of his lover, taking pleasure and enjoyment from that act that was most pure.

His relationship with Rúmil had taken him by surprise. He had fallen into bed with the young guardian as a result of mutual desire. However, now he found himself imagining waking up with this young beauty in his own bed; he found himself imagining keeping Rúmil as his own. Rúmil expressed his desire to go to Mirkwood when Thranduil found his thoughts voiced aloud. He had not intended to tell Rúmil of his desire, yet he had done so nonetheless. His reluctance was not because he did not enjoy Rúmil's company, but because he did not want to see another that he cared for put into harm's way. He had maintained a careful distance from all those who dwelt in his realm, keeping all but his son at arm's length. He could not make decisions about sending another elf into battle if they were too close to him; sending Legolas was nearly more than he could bear. However, Legolas had chosen his own path against his wishes, so there was nothing to be done about that now. As king, he could not spare his own son while sending the sons and daughters of his people out to defend their land; besides, Legolas would never stand for that. All he could do was make decisions as best he could, and fight beside his warriors as often as possible, never asking of them what he was not fully prepared and able to do himself.

A shiver ran down his spine as he slipped from Rúmil's welcoming heat, and a long, drawn out sigh signaled his lover's descent into reverie. This caused him to smile; he thought to himself that the predictability with which Rúmil fell asleep after lovemaking could be used to keep time. He could understand it; they both felt safe and calm here, not having to be on constant vigil.

Carefully, he disentangled their limbs, no easy feat considering their fingers, arms and legs were wrapped around one another. He rose from the bed and retrieved the robe he had worn to Rúmil's talan, then began his nightly walk back to his own after bestowing a soft kiss upon Rúmil's shoulder. As much as he liked to pretend he was a common elf cavorting with his lover, he was not. He was a king and a guest in this realm, and being seen traipsing back from a late night rendezvous with a guardian was unseemly.

He listened to the crickets as he walked the narrow path back toward where his talan was; crossing through the lady's garden, as it was the most inconspicuous route. As he walked across the green grass in his bare feet, he paused. He sensed something but he could not put his finger on it. Something that sounded like a whisper floated into his ears and he turned quickly to find himself facing the fountain. The water in the mithril basin was still, like glass, and he found himself being drawn to it. He sensed another's presence and turned again quickly, to find Galadriel standing behind him, a short distance away.

"My lady," he said softly, covering his heart with his hand and bowing his head.

"Thranduil," she answered softly. "Stand not on ceremony, my friend. We are equals here."

Thranduil smiled and slowly shook his head. "Nay, my lady, I beg to differ. I shall never be your equal."

She laughed softly and smiled, holding out her hand to him as she approached. Thranduil took her hand and helped her up the moss covered stone steps that led to the fountain. She stood beside the raised basin and tilted her head slightly, her golden hair falling across one shoulder.

"Will you look in my mirror?" she asked.

Thranduil gazed at the basin and swallowed. Never had a more potent question been asked of him. He knew the kinds of things that were seen in that mirror and he knew that often there were more questions raised than answers given.

When he did not answer, she added, "It calls you, I can see it in your eyes."

"Aye, my lady. It does call me; though for reasons I do not know, I am reluctant to answer."

Galadriel nodded in a knowing fashion, then answered softly, "But the call not answered is more potent than the call denied."

Thranduil sighed and stepped up to the basin, his hands coming to rest upon its rim. "As always, you are correct, my lady," he replied quietly. "I shall look."

He gazed into the mirror and waited for the visions to come. The first was one of green fields and two small creatures he had never seen the likes of before; they were walking with packs and sticks. The next vision was not quite so peaceful. It was of his homeland under siege, trees were burning and the sounds of elves, orcs and spiders dying echoed in his mind. Then he saw Legolas fighting in a strange land, the only elf among scores of men and orcs. The Black Gates then appeared in his mind, a vision that was all too fresh in his own memory. Another great war, this one led by men. He saw Glorfindel and Erestor, Celeborn and Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and Círdan with the warriors from their lands, including some from Mirkwood. It was as though the Last Alliance had been reincarnated. Elves and Men alike were dying by the score as he fought by his son's side. The final vision came to him in a disorienting flash. Suddenly, the images of smoke and rock and death had faded and he was riding in green field, accompanied by Celeborn and Galadriel. Rúmil was there, as were his brothers... then suddenly he gasped, and the vision faded into mist.

He stepped back from the mirror and slowly raised his eyes toward Galadriel. The lady had seen what he had seen; yet, her face was as unreadable as clay.

"The mirror shows us both what has been, what will be, and what could be. Not all you saw will come to pass, but what will and what will not is beyond my divining," she answered.

Thranduil nodded. He bowed his head and covered his heart with his hand, then turned and left the garden, the visions he had seen swirling in his mind.

* * * *

Lindir walked through a grove of trees near the Bruinen; the sound of the roaring current and the wind in the trees lent the place a sense of wildness. He knew Gildor was following close behind, though his companion said nothing. He was safe in Gildor's presence; his friend was among the finest of the warriors who served Elrond. However, that did not blunt the sense of uneasiness he felt. He had felt that way all day, since they had crossed the river further upstream. They had sat in the sun and enjoyed the various delicacies that the cook had prepared, along with a flagon of wine. Then they had wandered into the woods on the west side of the river. Pausing, he leaned against the trunk of a tall spruce, looking up through the branches at the mid-afternoon sky. Gildor stood next to him, just a short distance away, and Lindir found himself feeling ever more grateful for his company.

"There is something about this place that I cannot quite describe..." he began. "It makes me feel uneasy...it feels..."

"Wild?" Gildor interjected.

He turned his gaze to his friend and nodded. "Aye, wild."

Gildor took a step closer and smiled reassuringly. "That is because it is. We are outside of Master Elrond's blanket of protection here. These lands are beyond his sphere of influence."

"Are there yrch* here?" Lindir asked worriedly.

"There once was, and wargs and evil men. However, it has been long since they have dared venture within easy reach of Master Elrond's warriors." He reached up and brushed a strand of silver hair off Lindir's shoulder. "I would not take you into harm's way, my friend."

Lindir smiled, even as he felt a shiver run up his spine at the glancing touch of Gildor's hand.

"By the Valar, you are a vision, Lindir," Gildor said softly. "The way you look there in the shadows, with Anor's light dancing across your face and hair, your lips so beautifully curved into a smile..."

Lindir swallowed and in an uncharacteristic move of boldness, he reached out and grasped Gildor's tunic in his hand, pulling his friend against him. When Gildor gently, yet forcefully clasped his wrists and pulled them over his head, he did not resist. Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exposing his throat to Gildor's view. Gildor leaned against him, pinning him to the bole of the tree with his weight. Gildor was solid, muscular, like he imagined warriors would be.

"Is this what you want? Is this how you like it?" Gildor asked in a husky whisper.

"I often find myself in this position," Lindir breathed sultrily. "I cannot say that I find reason to complain..."

As Gildor's lips moved over the flesh of his throat, he felt heat rising in his groin and he bent one knee, sliding the inside of his thigh along the outside of the warrior's hip. Soft moans drifted up from deep inside him as tongue was added to lips and gentle nips of teeth were added to tongue.

"You are as dangerous as these woods, my fair minstrel," Gildor purred against Lindir's throat.

Lindir smiled and rolled his hips forward, pressing his burgeoning desire into Gildor's own. "It has been some time since I have taken a lover," he responded with a smoky whisper. "I may indeed be dangerous..."

Gildor chuckled against the flesh of his throat and he wrapped his leg around both of his lover's own. "Make love to me here, in these woods..." Lindir murmured.

"Nay, my songbird," Gildor responded. "I will have you in a wide, soft bed, where I can gaze upon your beauty and revel in your soft flesh for hours uncounted..."

Lindir smiled as Gildor pulled back and gazed into his eyes. "Then take me home, for I am tired of waiting for what I want."

"As you wish," Gildor murmured against his lips before taking his mouth in a searing kiss.

Lindir opened to the kiss and Gildor released his wrists, allowing him to plunge his hands into his lover's thick, dark hair. They undulated against one another, mouths questing for dominance, before they separated, leaving the wild trees and returning to their home.

To be continued...

*yrch = Orcs in Sindarin.

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir share a warm spring afternoon, Gildor and Lindir take a new path together.

Thranduil mounted the steps to the talan he shared with Legolas, trying to put what he saw in the mirror out of his mind. The feeling that war was coming had been nagging at him for many months, and the visions in the mirror seemed to lend weight to what his intuition had been warning him about. He pushed open the door and closed it softly behind him, then turned and walked toward his bedchamber. Pausing at Legolas' door, he pushed the curtain aside a small bit, just enough to gaze in at his son.

Legolas was asleep, as was Haldir. The captain lay upon his stomach, arms folded and hands tucked beneath the pillow upon which his head rested. Legolas lay across Haldir's back, his hands resting upon the marchwarden's arms and his head upon Haldir's shoulder. They looked so peaceful in their reverie, as if neither of them had a care in the world. He smiled as he gazed upon them and imagined that this was much the way he and Rúmil looked just moments ago. Legolas needed this; he needed some time for himself, time to rest and enjoy life instead of battling the dark beasts of Sauron's making. In more than one way, this delay of their return home was turning out to be a good thing.

He proceeded into his own chamber quietly, stripping his robe and climbing beneath the covers. A long sigh escaped him as he began the gentle descent into reverie. He would stay abed late that day.

* * * *

Legolas breathed deeply as he stirred from his dreams. He raised his head and looked around him, then slowly sat up and rubbed his face, pushing the hair back from his eyes. Through the woven screen of willow and birch branches, he could see the outline of his father's form in the bed. He smiled when he thought of the peaceful expression often upon his father's face as he slept; it was something that he saw too little of it seemed. His father's presence had waked him. He always knew when Thranduil was near; he sensed it somehow.

Ithil's light still swathed the sky in silver, though he could feel dawn was approaching. He lay back down, curling up against Haldir as his lover mumbled quietly and snuggled back against him. He blinked slowly as reverie called him and fell asleep with a smile curving his lips.

* * * *

Elrohir stood in the middle of a small field, his arms crossed over his chest as he slowly turned round and round, an approving smile upon his lips as he watched his latest colt canter a small circle around him.

"Very good..." he said softly, his deep voice conveying approval to his young colt. "Good boy..."

Elladan sat on a rock in the shade of a tree, watching his twin train the yearling. The new crop of foals would be arriving soon and Elrohir liked to take charge of the stable when they were home. Elrohir whistled slowly and softly and the colt transitioned from an easy canter to a trot, his long legs pumping furiously as his big gait seemed to consume the ground.

"Easy boy," Elrohir said softly, "Easy now..."

The colt slowed and the racing trot became more of an easy, swinging jog as he dropped his nose to the ground.

"Good boy... that is my boy..." Elrohir glanced at Elladan and winked, then smiled as his twin winked back.

"That big gait will make for an uncomfortable ride long term, brother," Elladan called out.

"Aye," Elrohir answered, "but it will make a very impressive sight when parading through the cities we visit..."

Elladan chuckled and shook his head, slicing a small piece of apple and eating it off his knife. He looked down into the pitiful expression of one of the stable hounds, who had her head resting upon his knee. "Oh, alright..." he said with a smile, "Here." He sliced off another piece of apple and fed it to the dog. She took the proffered apple gently between her teeth before gobbling it as soon as his hand was clear. Wagging her small nub of a tail, she raised her ears and cocked her head. "You wag what you no longer have," Elladan teased. The dog continued wiggling her nub of a tail and looking at him inquisitively. "Last one," he said softly, feeding her one more bite of apple. "You will have a belly ache if you eat any more." Understanding him, she carefully took the apple slice then laid back down in the shade.

He looked up and saw Elrohir approaching, his colt in tow. "She has taken a liking to you," Elrohir said softly.

"Aye, that would be because I have food," Elladan responded with a smile. "What happened to her tail?"

"It was nearly torn clear off by a small warg," Elrohir answered. She was guarding the summer pasture with the other hounds when the horses were set upon by a small pack of wargs. Between the stallion, the hounds and the herdmasters, the wargs were chased off. Her tail was so badly injured that we had to cut it off to the nub."

Elladan gently rubbed the dog's head. "You are a brave girl..." She wagged her nub and nudged his hand with her nose.

"What is her name?" Elladan asked.

"Hunbrêg*" Elrohir answered.

"A fitting name for such a brave beast. Come, Hunbrêg, let us find you some food more suitable for your constitution."

The dog leapt in the air next to him then ran ahead for a few steps before pausing to see if he followed. The walk back to the stables proceeded in this manner, with her leaping and spinning, then running and stopping. The dog's gleeful nature made him smile; it was a welcome relief from the endless meetings and documents that required his approval. He did not know how Erestor and his father did it. If he had to spend the rest of his days reading and signing papers, he would go mad. Elrohir had been the smart one, as usual, expressing his desire to train and work with horses rather than work with books. While they were each skilled in both areas, they had been groomed for those things that they expressed more of a talent for.

He felt a glancing touch of Elrohir's fingers against his palm and he looked at his twin and smiled. The urge to lean over and kiss him was nearly impossible to deny, but to do so would be too risky there in the daylight and the open fields near the stable. Instead he leaned over, allowing their shoulders to touch, then whispered softly, "I love you."

Elrohir smiled and answered, "I love you as well, Elladan."

Elladan nodded and then turned his attention to the dog. "Yes, yes, Hunbrêg, I am coming my friend..." He chuckled as she bolted ahead again.

As they entered the stable proper, they saw Lindir and Gildor returning from their ride. They watched as their friends returned their horses to their paddocks then quickly grabbed their packs and headed toward the house hand in hand. Elladan raised an eyebrow and glanced at his twin.

"It appears they are becoming quite fond of each other, would you not agree?"

Elrohir laughed softly, "Fond is one way of describing it. It is springtime after all. I suppose they are feeling the effects of her coming?"

Elladan sighed. "They would not be the only ones..." Elrohir chuckled and shook his head. "Well, I must be going back to father's office. I am sure Erestor is waiting most impatiently for me."

"Take heart, my brother," Elrohir said with a smile. "Father will be home soon."

"See you at the evening gathering?" Elladan asked with a mischievous smile.

"Of course," Elrohir answered with a wink.

"Until this evening then..."

Elrohir bowed his head and smiled as Elladan departed the stable grounds and made for the Last Homely House.

* * * *

Gildor followed Lindir through the corridors of the auxiliary residence, allowing the minstrel to lead him by the hand. He was familiar with this wing, as it was where Glorfindel's quarters was, his own being in a building down by the barracks. He was rarely at the Last Homely House for any extended period of time, so he preferred to live down amongst the soldiers rather than take up space in the main house that could be used by someone who was here more than he was.

After several flights of stairs and a few twists and turns, they arrived at Lindir's door. The minstrel lived on the uppermost floor of the auxiliary wing, his quarters being tucked into a neat little alcove that faced the hills. Lindir opened the door and invited Gildor inside before closing it again and ensuring it was latched.

Lindir's quarters were cozy and warm, bathed in the afternoon sun as the windows faced west and south. The room was an odd shape, rather like a slice of pie, as some of the rooms on the top floor were. The ceiling was low in some places, following the roofline of the structure. On one wall stood his bed and two small tables, one on each side of the bed. On the other was a fireplace and an area to wash up and dress. Flanking the fireplace was an armoire and a dressing screen, and a small stand with a washbasin and mirror hanging over it. The southern and western walls were lined with windows, and a doorway that led to a balcony stood on the westernmost side. Near the windows were a small desk and chair, larger stuffed chairs and a small table, and in an area next to the southern windows were a stool and music stand alongside Lindir's harp. The space was comfortable and welcoming, and it felt secluded from the bustling of the main house. He imagined Lindir sitting on his stool, playing his lyre and writing beautiful songs for all the residents of Imladris to enjoy.

He watched as Lindir crossed the room and opened the windows, the large framed panes swinging open and letting in the soft afternoon breeze. The view from the windows was remarkable. To the south were a green meadow and sloping hills leading up to the tall trees and the thick almost impenetrable forest that hid the valley from unfriendly eyes. The waterfalls and streams that fed the valley floor could be heard outside. To the west were steep hills dotted with large rocks and tall patches of spruce and pine; beyond those were the Bruinen and the Trollshaws. The scent of pine and fresh heather drifted into the room and it made Gildor smile. While Imladris had the most beautiful gardens anywhere in Middle-earth, it was the scent of the wilderness beyond and the sight of Eru's creations in all their glory that gave Gildor real joy and peace. He preferred the wild, untamed world of Eru's creations to the cultivated and groomed gardens of elves and men.

Lindir turned and smiled at Gildor, feeling a flutter in his stomach and a tremor in his hands. His last lover had been Erestor and that had been more than a year ago. While he had found Erestor to be a serious and demanding lover, the advisor was not the strict taskmaster many would imagine him to be. However, Erestor had clearly been in charge, both in bed and in the library, and Lindir had been comfortable with that. Gildor had the reputation for being an assertive lover, and Lindir imagined that things would be much the same with him as they were with Erestor. He walked toward Gildor, taking the warrior's hands upon reaching him and leading him to the bed. He held Gildor's strong hands in his own slender ones, feeling the power in them, imagining how they would feel on his bare flesh.

He reached up and began unbuttoning Gildor's tunic, suppressing a small gasp when he slid the garment from his lover's body. Gildor was far larger than he was used to, having had slender lovers, like himself. He ran his hands over the muscles of his chest and shoulders, his fingers splayed wide as he explored this unknown territory. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to one perfectly sculpted pectoral muscle, a small hum of pleasure escaping his lips.

Gildor smiled, allowing Lindir to explore at will. Given the rapt attention with which Lindir made his perusal, Gildor imagined the lithe minstrel was not accustomed to laying with elves who wielded swords instead of pens. He remained passive, allowing Lindir's lips and hands to caress and discover as he wished.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked seductively.

"So strong..." Lindir murmured. "I have never had the opportunity to touch such a form." He looked up into Gildor's eyes and smiled. "Aye, I like it very much."

A sharp, staccato rap fell upon his door and he groaned aloud. "Who can that be?" he grumbled.

Gildor chuckled and placed his hands upon Lindir's shoulders as the impatient caller rapped upon the door again. "I do not think they will leave until you answer it."

Lindir made for the door, grumbling as he went. Gildor casually leaned up against the post of the bed and waited for his young lover to return.

Lindir threw the door open and found one of the young apprentices that worked in the library standing before him. He took a deep breath. "Yes?"

The youngster stammered, since he had disturbed Lindir. "Par...pardon me, Master Lindir...but...Master Erestor sent me for you. He has an urgent question about some papers you were working on."

"Can it not wait until tomorrow?" Lindir asked, struggling to conceal the annoyance in his voice.

"Master Erestor sent me for you and bade me tell you it was urgent..."

Lindir sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Very well. Run along and tell Master Erestor I will be right there."

The youngster nodded and ran back down the corridor. Lindir turned to Gildor. "I am sorry, I..."

Gildor waved his hand. "No worries, my friend. I will be here when you return."

Lindir pointed directly at Gildor. "Do not leave..."

Gildor covered his heart with his hand and bowed his head. "Your wish is my command, my lord."

Lindir smiled broadly then rushed out the door. Gildor laughed and crossed the room, depositing himself in a tall, plush chair and closing his eyes, listening to the birds sing outside.

To be continued...

*Fierce heart (Sindarin) Or at least as close as I can get...

Summary: Two couples share a morning of indulgence.

Haldir awoke late morning. As he had fallen asleep on his stomach with his hands beneath his head, his fingers and arms were tingling. He raised his head slightly, turning to find Legolas beside him, still asleep. The prince lay upon his back, one arm over his head, the other across his stomach. Legolas' head was turned away from Haldir, so that the long line of his throat formed a tantalizing invitation.

Ignoring the groaning protest of his arms, Haldir turned to his side and pressed his lips to the juncture of the prince's shoulder and neck. The soft kiss earned him a whispered moan of appreciation and he added his tongue to the action of his lips. The prince tasted like honeysuckle, sweet and slightly floral. In the few nights they had spent together, Haldir found that he did not easily tire of finding new ways to loose the prince's passion. Few things in the world were more beautiful than the sight of Legolas when he was undone.

His hands caressed his prince's chest, callused fingertips coaxing nipples into hard peaks before delving into the dip of Legolas' abdomen and then circling his navel lazily. Legolas' breathless moans and sighs as he responded to his attentions added further fuel to the fire of his passion for this Sindar prince and he slid closer, rubbing the inside of his thigh along the length of Legolas' long, sculpted legs.

Legolas was clearly no longer asleep, as his hands came to rest in Haldir's hair, fingers massaging the marchwarden's scalp as he allowed Haldir to taste and feel him. His marchwarden was an enigma: strong and willful, yet gentle and comforting, not to mention that he was a giving and skilled lover. The connection between them was not as strong as the connection he had with Elladan and Elrohir. However, this did not dampen his body's reaction to the captain's touch. As his desire built, he began undulating beneath Haldir, arching and pressing the length of his body against Haldir's slightly larger and heavier form.

Soon, Haldir lay atop him and he opened his legs, allowing the captain's weight to come to rest firmly against him. He had not yet yielded to Haldir, as he knew the marchwarden hoped he would. It was not that he did not enjoy being taken, he did, but there was still a game being played between them, one that would lose its attraction should he acquiesce too soon. Haldir had been patient, testing and issuing wordless pleas with his hands, mouth and body. Legolas would give him just enough, then turn the advantage to himself. Haldir would reluctantly give in, and that surrender was never left un-rewarded. Legolas knew that despite Haldir's protestations and reluctant permission, the marchwarden had found much pleasure in their arrangement thus far.

He arched his back and smiled as Haldir's mouth focused on his abdomen, soft licks of the marchwarden's tongue were punctuated by gentle nips of his teeth. No words were spoken; the only sounds were deep, quiet moans and sighs accompanied by the occasional gasp when one of them was taken by surprise. He parted his legs further as Haldir made his way lower, offering himself up to his attentive and generous lover.

Haldir focused on the soft flesh where leg met hip, his lips and tongue playing about in the down-like dusting of flaxen hair around Legolas' arousal. He nuzzled the soft pouch of skin that lay beneath his princely lover's length, gently nudging it aside as his tongue sought the entrance to Legolas' body. As he had done before, he slowly circled the small opening, his tongue gliding over the small ridges of flesh that made up that most intimate of places, waiting to see if his lover would allow or deny him what he wanted.

Each time before, he would feel Legolas' strong fingers in his hair, tugging upon his head just as he put pressure upon that puckered opening; and each time he had yielded, not wishing to do anything that the prince did not want. Each of those times, he had given himself instead, hoping that a display of submissiveness would engender some trust between them. His gift had not gone unappreciated, nor had Legolas ever neglected to give him much pleasure; but he was not suited to be a submissive partner. Some give and take he could abide, indeed enjoy, but to always be the one who yielded went against his nature.

Silently, he made his request, pressing gently upon the small entrance with the tip of his tongue. As before, he felt Legolas tug upon his hair and he closed his eyes in disappointment. This time, however, the tug was strong, and he felt himself being pulled up toward the prince's lips. He slid against Legolas, their lengths brushing together and causing his own to twitch in response. Soon Legolas was holding his head, plundering his mouth with voracious intensity. He groaned into the kiss as Legolas wrapped his long legs around him, and when the prince released his mouth, he stared into his dark eyes.

Legolas caressed Haldir's handsome face, his fingers tracing sculpted cheekbones and a strong jaw. His marchwarden had been so patient, so willing to please, however, he could feel Haldir's patience beginning to crumble; it was time for the game to end. He wrapped his legs tighter around Haldir, rubbing their bodies together before encouraging his lover to return to his task. Haldir obediently complied, sliding back down Legolas' firm body and attending to his neglected and turgid arousal.

Haldir felt Legolas push down upon his head gently and he moved lower, lapping at the velvety pouch of skin that lay beneath his length. Another gentle push moved him lower, and he found himself back where he had been, his face nestled between his prince's legs. Again, he tested, almost reluctantly, for being disappointed was beginning to wear on him. However, this time he met no resistance, and his tongue slid inside Legolas' body.

The soft cry that met his ears caused his swollen length to twitch as it was pinned beneath his weight. The mere thought that he might be allowed to have what he had wanted for what felt like an eternity caused the fire inside him to burn brighter. His fingers dug into the muscles of Legolas' hips as he tasted his prince, his slick tongue sliding in and out of his lover's body easily. Legolas was squirming above him, his knees pulled apart and back, giving Haldir free access to all that had been denied him until that moment. He could feel the fingers of one of Legolas' hands digging into his scalp as the prince struggled to remain silent and not cry out loudly.

A momentary vision of Thranduil lying in his bed, pillow firmly planted over his head nearly caused him to stop what they were doing. But Legolas writhed against him and he found he could not quit, even if the king himself were commanding him to. The fingers of Legolas' free hand dug into his shoulder and he ceased what he was doing, momentarily fearing that his vision had come to fruition and the king was standing over the bed they shared.

Instead, what he saw when he looked up was a phial of amber colored oil, and he suddenly found it difficult to swallow. Why now, when he was on the verge of getting what he wanted, did he hesitate? Was it that Thranduil lay in the bed in the next room, without so much as a solid wall between them? Or was it that perhaps having what one wants is not as good as wanting it?

He heard the sound of bare feet on a wooden floor. The cadence was unmistakably his brother's. Rúmil was in the talan as well. He wished he had taken Legolas to his own quarters, but now it was too late.

* * * *

Rúmil purposefully averted his eyes as he crossed the main room of the guest talan. He knew Haldir was in Legolas' room, and by the soft sounds that emanated from within, he had a very good idea of what was happening in there. When he had woken, he had found his kingly lover gone. Dressed in only a thin, loose robe, he had stealthily made his way across the tree city and up the stairs to the king's talan. He felt a sudden need to be with him, even if all they did was sleep in each other's arms. Thranduil's impending departure was the reason for that need, that and the chance that he would not be released from duty to accompany him.

Slipping into the king's chamber, he dropped his robe to the floor then slid beneath the sheets. He curled up against Thranduil's solid back, wrapping one arm around his waist as he pressed the length of his body against his lover. Thranduil stirred and mumbled quietly, instinctively rolling over and taking Rúmil into his arms. The whispered moans from the adjacent room put Rúmil in a wicked frame of mind, and his hand drifted down the king's abdomen. Brushing the back of hand softly against Thranduil's slumbering length, he whispered against his lips, "Can you hear them?"

Thranduil moaned softly and teased Rúmil's mouth with his tongue. "Aye, I can hear them."

"They are making love..." Rúmil whispered again.

Thranduil smiled. "Aye, and quite enjoying it by the sound of it."

"I think we should join them..."

Thranduil's eyes shot open. "What?"

"I think we should j...oh!" Rúmil giggled softly. "Not join them as in join them in the bed, but join them as in do the same."

Thranduil heaved a sigh of relief. "My dear one, you nearly caused my heart to stop."

Rúmil laughed quietly and nipped at the underside of Thranduil's chin. "I may be adventurous, but I am not that adventurous. Besides I have no desire to share you, nor do I have any desire to see my brother...you know."

Thranduil chuckled. "Aye. That would be a bold move, even for me." He winked.

Rúmil laid one leg over Thranduil's hip. "I merely meant that perhaps you would enjoy some of the same attention that my brother is giving Legolas..."

Thranduil threaded his fingers in Rúmil's long, loose, silver hair. "I always enjoy your attentions, my jewel."

Rúmil smiled. "Shall you have me on my back or on my stomach? Or perhaps on my knees?" He winked and smiled coyly, biting his lower lip.

Thranduil smiled as well, making a decision to do something he had not done in a very long time. He gently pushed Rúmil to his back and covered his form with his own. He attended to Rúmil much the way Rúmil had been attending to him over the course of their short time together. He worked Rúmil's body into a heated state of arousal with his hands and his mouth, but denied him release.

"Where is it?" Rúmil breathed.

"In the drawer, there in the table next to the bed," Thranduil answered. He kept a phial of orange oil beside the bed to soothe tired hands and feet. It was something he had done since his early days as a soldier, and it was a habit that he kept even while traveling. He heard Rúmil fumble for the phial then heard the quiet pop of the cork as he opened it. He continued teasing his lover with his mouth, gripping his arousal by the base.

Sitting up, he straddled Rúmil's legs and held out his hand for his lover to pour a small amount of the oil into his cupped palm. Rúmil gasped as the king worked the oil into his heated length and Thranduil looked into the surprised azure eyes of his lover.

"Tell me," Thranduil murmured softly. "Have you ever taken another before, my treasure?"

Rúmil nodded mutely then added in a soft whisper, "Yes, but it has been many years."

"Well, it has been many years since I have given myself to another, so this is a momentous occasion," Thranduil answered with a smile.

Rúmil watched in rapt fascination as Thranduil rose to his knees, and slid his oiled fingers inside his own body, biting his lower lip against the almost forgotten sensation. Rúmil knew this was something that Thranduil did not do lightly, and he imagined that he was one of very few that would ever know this pleasure.

Thranduil lowered himself upon his rigid and weeping length slowly, not stopping until he was fully seated inside his body. Rúmil nearly spent himself on the spot, the impossibly tight heat pulsating and squeezing his length. It took his breath away, both the sensation and the sight of it. His beloved Sinda's body arched backward, Thranduil's flaxen hair cascading down his back, his muscles rippling as he moved, dancing beneath his perfect alabaster flesh. He remained perfectly still, allowing his king to control the pace and depth, struggling not to grip his muscular thighs too tightly.

In and out he slid, slowly and shallowly at first, then with greater speed and depth as Thranduil's body relaxed. He watched his lover's fingers slowly wrap around his own arousal, his hand sliding up and down its engorged length, spreading oil along its silken surface. He placed his hand upon Thranduil's own, joining him in the act, wanting his lover to feel as much pleasure as he felt in that moment. He saw Thranduil's jaw tighten and heard the muffled groan as he found his mark, and the tightening of his body nearly sent him over the edge. His release was coming fast; he could feel it building inside him, roaring forth like a great wind that would rip trees from the ground. A strangled moan escaped his lover and Thranduil spilt himself over their joined hands. Rúmil's own release followed hard upon, as he bucked up into the delicious heat of his lover's body.

Thranduil bent forward, his hair covering both of their faces, his lips hovering just above Rúmil's own. "Thank you," he heard his fair lover whisper and he smiled, responding with a passionate kiss to Rúmil's lips. As Rúmil's length slipped from his body, he stretched out beside him, pulling the young guardian into his arms and holding him close. A warm feeling of satisfaction washed over him and the two of them drifted into reverie as the morning wore on.

To be continued...

Summary: Legolas and Haldir get on with it; Lindir is reminded of his anatomy lessons.

Caught between temptation that was impossible to ignore and the unnerving sounds of his little brother making love to his lover's father in the next room, Haldir hesitated. Legolas, casting a glance over his shoulder, saw the confusion and discomfort in Haldir's eyes. A wicked grin curved his soft lips and he playfully wiggled his bottom.

"This opportunity does not present itself every day, Haldir. I suggest you take advantage before I change my mind."

Haldir's head snapped back around and he looked down at the prince. Temptation indeed. His princely lover rested on all fours; his knees spread invitingly, his back arched seductively. His body screamed at him to get on with it, his arousal pulsating painfully against his hip. "Does that not distract you?" he asked in a whisper, quirking his head in the direction of Thranduil's room.

"Does it look like I am distracted?" Legolas countered. "Come now, Haldir. Do not tell me that you have absolute privacy every time you make love. We both know what happens on patrol on those long, cold nights." He winked.

"You make sport of me." Haldir pouted.

Legolas' head drooped and he sighed. He rose to his knees and turned in the bed, placing his hands upon Haldir's shoulders. "I do not make sport of you. I just had no idea that you were so...prudish."

"Prudish!" Haldir exclaimed in an excited whisper. "If you knew what went through my mind when you arrived at the celebration the first night you were here."

Legolas' hand slid down Haldir's muscled torso, his fingers digging lightly into his flesh. "Why not show me, hmmm?" Legolas drew the point of Haldir's ear between his lips and smiled inwardly at the groan that escaped his captain. "Come, lover," he whispered. "You have wanted this from the beginning and now I am giving it to you. Do not stray from your course..."

Haldir grabbed Legolas around the waist and roughly pulled him against his chest. "You are right, my prince. I shall not be deterred..." He took Legolas' mouth with unprecedented vigor, surprising even himself.

Haldir kissed Legolas roughly, and lest the marchwarden be mistaken, Legolas gave Haldir a reminder. He bit down on the captain's lip and Haldir jerked away, furrowing his brow as he looked at Legolas.

"I am giving myself to you, but I will not be abused. Is that clear?" Legolas asked in a soft, warning tone.

Haldir nodded. "Forgive me, my prince. I became carried away."

"Forgiven." Legolas soothed his swollen lip with his tongue. The exchange melted into a passionate kiss, and Legolas allowed Haldir to lay him back upon the bed.

Raising his legs and wrapping them high around Haldir's waist, Legolas exhaled as Haldir entered his body. He closed his eyes and accepted the invasion, allowing the uncomfortable burn to wash over him as he willed his body to relax. Haldir was sheathed inside him quickly, and did not hesitate to begin moving. He felt Haldir's battle to restrain himself and he arched his back, a deep moan escaping his throat. Legolas swallowed a cry as Haldir found his mark, sending waves of pleasure cascading through his body. His fingers dug into Haldir's back, leaving marks in the shape of a half moon on the backs of both shoulders.

Haldir's battle to maintain control was soon lost, however, and he began thrusting forcefully, his teeth marring the flesh of Legolas' throat as he rode the prince's body to his completion. He buried himself inside his lover's body as he spilled forth, his cry muffled against the flesh of Legolas' throat. Trembling, he lay atop his prince, his skin covered in a thin sheet of sweat, Legolas' fingertips raising gooseflesh across his back as he drew lazy circles upon it. He felt the prince's neglected arousal pulsing between their bodies and he slowly roused himself to action.

Sliding down Legolas' chest like a cat, he took the prince's length into his mouth, his lips sliding up and down the silken column of flesh faster and faster until he brought Legolas to climax. He swallowed as Legolas arched his back, drinking every drop of the salty-sweet essence that flowed from his lover. Licking him clean, he worked his way back up Legolas' body, depositing kisses along the way. He soothed the purpled flesh of his lover's shoulder, then bestowed a lingering kiss upon his perfect lips.

They curled against one another, pulling the sheets back over their cooling bodies, then drifted into a brief state of reverie before rising to meet the day.

* * * *

Lindir walked with hurried steps back toward his chamber. He would have to apologize to Erestor come the morrow for his curt and hurried words upon finding the document in question. He grumbled with each step he took, each second feeling like an eternity as he was on the verge of running down the hall. Pausing at his door, he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself, then turned the handle and stepped inside.

If ever an elf were to feel lucky, it was he in that moment. Over the tall back of one of his chairs, he saw the top of Gildor's dark hair. On the low table between the two chairs were two bare, perfect, delicious feet, crossed casually at the ankles. He closed the door behind him and made sure it was latched, then tentatively began crossing the room. Gildor rose from his chair and turned, causing Lindir's breath to catch in his throat.

Before him was elven perfection. While the single males and females of Imladris typically spent their time swooning over the tall, fair Glorfindel, or the dark, mysterious Erestor, or the dangerously handsome twins, they were all missing the point. Before Lindir stood the most beautiful elf he had ever seen in all his days on Middle-earth.

Gildor was still shirtless, his alabaster skin stretched taut over muscles that looked as though they had been wrought of iron. His leather riding breeches were unlaced and riding low on his narrow hips, revealing just a hint of dusky sable hair near his groin. His thick, dark hair, which had been previously braided behind his ears, now hung straight down, falling in a dark sable waterfall over his muscled shoulders and chest. His eyes, a deep gray-blue, sparkled with joyful comfort, and his lips, as soft as the finest spun silk, curved deliciously into a smile.

Lindir was aroused just looking at him. There was something so sensual about his casual stance, the way he was so comfortable in his own skin. Gildor had a wondrous body and the warrior knew it. The thought of all the hours and nights of exploration of that body caused a sharp ache in Lindir's loins.

Gildor crossed the room in his customary easy, swinging gait, taking Lindir by the shoulders and guiding him backward toward the bed. "Say nothing," he commanded in a gentle voice.

Lindir reached for him and he intercepted his hands, clasping his arms by the wrists and placing them back at his sides. "Wait." He began working the clasps on Lindir's tunic, then batted the minstrel's hands away when Lindir reached for him again. "Patience, my songbird," he answered quietly.

Lindir nodded and placed his hands back at his sides. He felt like a greedy elfling, unable to stop himself from reaching for the sticky bun sitting on the edge of the counter. Gildor slid the tunic from his shoulders and he actually jumped at the first touch of the warrior's hands upon his chest. Unwittingly, he arched into Gildor's touch, pressing his chest into the warrior's hands as he clenched his fists by his sides.

Gildor smiled and murmured, "Eager... I like that."

Lindir responded with a shuddering sigh, punctuated by a gasp as Gildor's callused thumb grazed his sensitive nipple.

"Take off your boots," Gildor instructed, as he began unlacing the minstrel's breeches.

Lindir kicked his boots off and shuffled them under the bed with his foot, then felt his breeches slide off his hips. Gracefully, he stepped out of them, being reminded of how Erestor used to like to unwrap him like a new gift. Gildor guided him to sit on the side of the bed, then instructed him to slide back until he sat back against its head. He watched as the warrior moved to the foot of the bed, then placed both hands upon the posts.

"Tell me, Lindir. I take it that you are not accustomed to having soldiers as lovers?"

"No," Lindir answered softly.

"So, you are not accustomed to lying with those who look like me, then?"

"No." Lindir swallowed as Gildor's hands moved over his own chest.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Yes. Oh, yes..."

Gildor smiled. "Good. Do you remember your lessons from when you were an elfling?"

Lindir furrowed his brow. "Yes. Why?" His eyes widened as Gildor bent one arm at the elbow, molding his bicep into a round ball.

"Do you remember the name of this muscle?"

Lindir nodded then found his voice. "Bicep."

Gildor nodded and smiled. "Very good." He straightened his arm and closed his fist, flexing the muscles in his forearm. "And these?"

Lindir took a deep breath. "There are many, I can't remember all their names..."

Gildor twisted his arm and pointed at the back of it. "This one?"

"Tricep."

Gildor flexed his arm and pointed at his shoulder. "This one?"

"Deltoid?" Lindir asked inquisitively.

"Yes." Gildor nodded.

"What about these?" he asked with a smile.

Lindir gasped then giggled as Gildor's chest muscles danced. "Pectorals..."

"Very good. And these?" His abdominal muscles flexed, accentuating that there were three perfect pairs.

"Oblique and laterals?"

"Close enough." Gildor winked. He turned and flexed the muscles in his back. "These?"

"Too many to remember."

Gildor then slid his breeches off his hips revealing himself in total. Lindir squirmed upon the bed, his arousal urgently pressing against the silk of his loincloth. He bit his lip and half giggled, half moaned as Gildor flexed and relaxed the muscles of his perfectly round backside.

"These?"

"Gluteus..."

He turned around to face him again and placed his foot upon the bed, pointing at his thigh. "This one?"

"Quadriceps."

Gildor winked. "Good... And this one?" He pointed at the back of his thigh.

"Hamstring."

Gildor pointed his toe then placed his fingertip on his calf. "Last one..."

"Soleus?"

Gildor mounted the bed on all fours and slowly began crawling toward Lindir. "Very good. You remember those lessons well, my songbird. This body has been shaped by ages of running and climbing trees and rocks, firing bows and throwing javelins, by hewing limbs with steel." He came to rest between Lindir's long legs and slowly lowered his body down upon the minstrel's own. "I have spent much of my life fighting, killing, making war, and far too little of it making love. I intend to change that..."

Lindir reached up with a trembling hand and caressed Gildor's face. "I want to aid in that change," he whispered.

Gildor smiled. "You have started this change, Lindir. From that first night that you held my hands, I knew there was something different about you, something that made me want to change my life. Though killing has formed my hands and my body, know that I will never hurt you, Lindir. I will protect you until my last breath leaves my body. Never will you know pain from my hands."

Lindir threaded his fingers in Gildor's heavy, dark hair. "Love me, Gildor," he whispered against the warrior's lips.

"I intend to," Gildor murmured, before taking Lindir's mouth in a passionate kiss.

To be continued...

Summary: Lindir and Gildor form a bond; Glorfindel returns; Elladan thinks about his brother.

Lindir wrapped his long legs over Gildor's as their bodies slowly moved against one another. His flesh felt like it was on fire and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt the evidence of Gildor's desire for him pressing into his stomach, the warrior's nude form pinning him to the bed. It was a delicious feeling, being held and trapped by so powerful and beautiful a creature. His fingers dug into the sculpted muscles of Gildor's back as he allowed the warrior to drink from his mouth.

He gasped as Gildor released his lips and he arched against him, sliding his legs higher up on his lover's hips. One thought consumed him, one burning, overriding need fueled him: he wanted to feel Gildor inside him. Hushed, murmured pleas escaped his lips; his own turgid length pulsating maddeningly, contained inside his silk loincloth. Lips warmer, softer and more skilled than he could have imagined left his throat, working their way lower to his chest. Gildor's name left his lips in a hushed whisper, and he gasped as the warrior's mouth descended upon his hardened nipple.

Arching against Gildor, he buried his fingers in his heavy, sable hair. He was overwhelmed with sensations: the heat from Gildor's body, the softness of his skin, his strong, comforting weight, his mouth upon his flesh. All these things combined to sweep Lindir up into a whirlwind of desire and emotion he had only had a fleeting glimpse of once in his life.

Once, he had thought himself in love with Erestor. He had been obsessed with the dark advisor, with his calm, reticent ways and with his somber moods. Erestor was an enigma to him, even after all these years of serving him both as an assistant and a lover. He had been driven by an overwhelming need to please the advisor; Erestor's approval had been a driving force in his adult life. But over the past days with Gildor, after spending time with him both talking and being silent, he found he craved Gildor's company, not his approval. While he knew he wanted to make Gildor happy, that he wanted to bring some peace to this tired soldier's life, he did not seek approval from him. He knew in his heart that Gildor cared for him, that he need not try to achieve worthiness in his eyes. Gildor saw something in him that others did not; he was what Gildor needed. In turn, Gildor was everything he had wanted: thoughtful, intelligent, strong, confident and playful. And lying beneath him, being held by him, kissed by him, pleasured by him, Lindir knew that this was what he had wanted and sought for all his life. Gildor was the one he was meant to be with.

'So soft,' Gildor thought to himself as he explored Lindir's lithe body. 'So beautiful and so soft..." His hands caressed the minstrel's lithe form, fingers seeking the places that would evoke sighs and sweet moans. Even in passion Lindir's voice was musical, perhaps even more so than in song. The sweet notes of love that drifted from his lover's lips wrapped Gildor in warmth and love and beauty. After ages of killing and running, of fighting and training, of having rough lovers and brief trysts when time would allow, he finally had what he wanted: someone of his own. He had a beautiful songbird, a rare treasure that he would love, honor, and cherish until the end of time.

He knew this was happening very fast; he and Lindir had just begun to know one another. However in the week they had spent together, they had talked and told one another everything. Lindir knew all there was to know about him, and he knew the same about Lindir. All that was left was learning those small details like which brush Lindir liked best for his hair, or how he liked his tea, or what time he rose in the morning and whether he liked the right or left side of the bed: the little details that make one so endearing. The thought of learning those things excited Gildor, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself looking forward to staying in one place for awhile. He had no need to wander anymore; he had found that which he had searched for.

The soft, dusky scent of his lover's sex drifted into his nostrils. Gods, how he loved the way Lindir smelled, like heather and clover on a bright spring day. Brushing his lips through the soft, silken hair that grew around Lindir's arousal he breathed deep, taking in the scent of his lover. He took him into his mouth, hearing Lindir's beautiful cry as he engulfed his lover's length. He cupped the minstrel's buttocks in his hands, encouraging him to move his hips and thrust into his mouth. Lindir complied quickly, and Gildor felt his lover's fingers tighten in his hair.

Lindir was trying to be careful, he did not want to use Gildor's mouth roughly, but it was so hard to maintain control. Engulfed in wet heat, tormented by Gildor's skilled and wicked tongue, he groaned aloud. His release was coming and coming fast, erupting from deep inside him and spreading like fire in his veins. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted, his body tightened and contorted as his spine bowed and he spilled forth into Gildor's throat.

Gildor began to swallow and heard the heartbreakingly beautiful cry that escaped his songbird's lips. The sound of it raised gooseflesh upon his skin as he swallowed each precious drop of his lover's essence. Slowly, he let Lindir's softening length slip from his lips and he licked him clean. He worked his way up Lindir's body, depositing soft kisses along the way. The way his lover trembled beneath him excited him and he reveled in it. Upon reaching Lindir's mouth, he gently held the minstrel's face in his hands, softly and gently kissing his lips.

"I love you, Gildor," Lindir murmured from the misty place between bliss and reality.

Gildor smiled. "I love you, Lindir," he answered sincerely. For it was true, as unlikely a pair as they were, and as short of a time as they had been together, he did love him.

So total was his surrender, so complete was their joining, that Lindir found himself spent and exhausted. He struggled to stay awake; he wanted to return the pleasure to his lover that Gildor had so lovingly given him. He murmured against his lover's lips, "Let me pleasure you..."

Gildor smiled and caressed Lindir's face. "There will be plenty of time for that, my love. Now I want you to sleep in my arms. I want to watch you dream."

Lindir smiled and curled against Gildor as his lover rolled to the side, molding his body against his lover as the golden light of late afternoon began to flood his chamber.

* * * *

Ithil rose high against the canopy of midnight blue as Glorfindel and his lord made their way across the valley of Imladris. They had decided to push on, both wanting to return home as soon as possible, and being on the road was no longer safe, particularly in the wilds of Eriador.

Glorfindel raised his hand in greeting to the guards as they cantered past them, slowing his horse to a walk as they passed beneath the gates to the Last Homely House. Stable hands, roused from sleep, ran out and greeted their lords, taking their horses. Elrond clasped Glorfindel by the shoulder and smiled, then turned and made his way up the stairs to his quarters. Glorfindel took his pack and made for the public baths, eager to wash the remnants of days on the road from his body.

After bathing he went to his chambers and deposited his belongings, then continued on to Erestor's chambers. The door was unlocked and he turned the handle carefully, opening the door and entering without a sound. The candles had been snuffed and his lover lay slumbering peacefully in the bed. He crept across the floor in his bare feet, pausing at the side of the bed to gaze upon his lover.

Erestor slept on his stomach, as was his want, and his hair was fanned out across his back, the pitch black of his mane creating a striking contrast against the crisp white of his nightshirt. Glorfindel bent down, taking care not to wake him, and breathed deeply, a smile curving his lips as he took in his lover's scent. Slowly and quietly he stripped his robe, then gently lifted the sheets and climbed in beside his lover.

Erestor felt the bed move and gasped as he quickly returned from reverie. Before he could fully wake, he was encircled by strong arms and felt his lover's powerful form pressed against him. Turning over in the bed, he faced Glorfindel and smiled.

"You are home," he murmured sleepily.

"I am," Glorfindel answered, brushing the hair away from Erestor's face.

"It is a dream?" Erestor mumbled as he wrapped his arms around his lover.

"Nay, lover, it is not a dream. Did you miss me?"

"Mmm, yes I did, very much. Did you miss me?"

"More than words can say, my raven."

Erestor smiled and reached for Glorfindel with his lips, a soft moan escaping him as they kissed. Their mouths moved against one another slowly, gently, and Erestor pulled Glorfindel closer to him. They broke their kiss and Erestor smiled and sighed, enjoying the feeling of Glorfindel's body next to his own again.

Glorfindel caressed Erestor's face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Now that he was near his lover, back in his bed, the fatigue from the long, hard journey overtook him. "Sleep now, my raven," he murmured. "I will be here when you wake."

Erestor tucked his head beneath Glorfindel's chin and sighed, allowing himself to drift back into reverie.

Glorfindel closed his eyes, feeling the heaviness of fatigue take him and knowing he would sleep better than he had in weeks now that he was home.

* * * *

Elladan sighed as Elrohir turned over in his arms and snuggled back against him. Their bodies conformed to one another in sleep, perfect mirror images of one another. Elrohir lay with his knees bent, curled into a loose ball. Elladan lay behind him, the length of his body curved around his twin. Elrohir held Elladan's hand between his own and he tucked them beneath his chin. The warmth of Elrohir's body felt good against him, comforting, as it always had. He drifted between sleep and wakefulness, listening to the soft rhythm of Elrohir's breathing. If he could have one experience to last him the rest of his days, he decided this would be the one. He would not choose moments of passion nor moments of bodily release, but this simple, pure expression of love.

He knew he had been a less than perfect brother. He had tempted Elrohir into a life that meant they had to be ever vigilant. He had lured his twin into acts that could put their immortal souls in jeopardy. The act of incest was never discussed, since it was such a rare phenomenon; it was widely assumed that it was forbidden. While Elves did not have the same need for procreation as Men and love between two males was accepted as easily as love between a male and female, there were still forms of love that were not understood and members of their society that were not as open to exploring different expressions of love, such as their own.

Elladan feared that if the nature of their love were to be revealed, they would bring shame upon their parents and sister, and upon their realm. So they kept their love a secret, and each day that drew on brought them closer to a reckoning. The day would come when they must make the same choice their father did. Would they remain in Middle-earth and love in secret, or would they sail to Valinor and pray that their family and community would accept the way they felt about one another? One thing they both knew was that there were no secrets from the Valar. Manwë knew all that was and all that will be; the Lord of the Valar already knew of their secret.

There were times that he felt he should have been stronger, he should have been less selfish. He wondered if Elrohir ever would have made the same choice he did, or if his younger sibling would have pushed the feelings deep down or made them into something different. For all Elrohir's teasing and playfulness, of the two of them, he was the more sensitive and more empathetic. Elladan had the sight, but Elrohir had the compassion. He always thought it strange that his sensitive and compassionate younger brother had chosen the path he did, the path of a warrior; but he supposed it was indeed his compassion that drove him to do it. Elrohir was always one of the first to come to the aid of one in need. Elrohir was the one that insisted that they aid the Grey Company and wage war against orcs. It was not from a love of warfare that he did this, but from the unwillingness to sit by while others suffered. 'Who will help them if we do not?' his twin had asked. 'We should help them because we can.'

There was no one in all the world that Elladan loved more than Elrohir. There was nothing he would not endure, no pain too great, no torment too unbearable for the sake of his twin. There were many he loved: his parents, his sister, Estel, his friends and tutors, Legolas, Thranduil... but there were none that he would suffer for like he would suffer for Elrohir.

Elrohir mumbled softly, snuggling back against him in his sleep. Elladan smiled and pressed his lips to the crown of his brother's head. "My love," he whispered, "my life..."

He closed his eyes and drifted into reverie, the sound of his twin's breathing lulling him into the land of dreams.

To be continued...

Summary: Rúmil and Thranduil share one last morning together, Haldir thinks about Legolas, and Elrohir gives Elladan a gift.

Rúmil sighed and rubbed his eyes as he woke. Turning his head, he gazed upon his lover, admiring him in his sleep. He drew his fingertip over Thranduil's lips very gently, taking care not to wake his kingly lover. It was the last time in an unknown number of years that he would see this, the last time in only the Valar knew how long before he and Thranduil shared a bed again. His brother and Legolas had retired to Haldir's talan the night before and Rúmil expected the prince would be returning soon to gather his belongings.

Haldir would not miss Legolas the way he would miss Thranduil; he knew this. Yet, his elder brother and the son of his lover had become fast friends, if nothing else. Haldir respected Legolas, even if he did not understand him, and Rúmil had never seen Legolas treat Haldir with anything other than respect.

Rúmil's thoughts returned to his lover; it was going to be hard to let go of this magical Sindar who had stolen his heart. Was he in love with Thranduil? He thought he might be, but he could not be sure. He knew he cared for him very much, he knew that making love to him had been unlike any other experience he had ever had, but when he tried to imagine bonding with the Sindar King, he could not quite seem to picture it. 'It is for the best, Rúmil,' he thought to himself. 'To fall in love with one you may not be able to have would only be cause for heartbreak.' He wondered when they would see one another again, and what the circumstances of that meeting would be.

Thranduil drew a deep breath and sighed, his eyelids fluttering as he returned from reverie. Rúmil watched this sight in a state of enraptured awe; rarely was he the first one awake. Thranduil's lips curved into a sleepy smile as his eyes returned to their clear, sparkling shade of sapphire.

"You are awake before me," Thranduil murmured.

"Aye. I wanted to watch you wake."

"And so you have..."

Rúmil sighed as the king's lips descended upon his own, gently nudging them apart as his lover's tongue entered his mouth. A quiet moan escaped him as he surrendered to the kiss and Thranduil rolled on top of him, covering him with his larger and stronger form.

"I will miss this," Rúmil whispered as Thranduil's lips moved to his neck. "I will miss the feeling of you atop me, I will miss your weight upon my body."

"I will miss you as well, my treasure," Thranduil answered. "Your soft skin, your silver, silken hair and your glittering eyes. I will miss the gentle timbre of your voice, the musical moans that escape you when we make love."

"Stop. Say no more," Rúmil murmured against Thranduil's shoulder. "You will only make it harder for me to let you go."

Thranduil pulled back and gazed down into Rúmil's eyes, caressing his face with the backs of his ringed fingers. "I want you to promise me something, Rúmil," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I want you to promise me that you will not lock your heart away. I want you to promise me that if anything were to happen to me that you would find love and be happy."

"Do not say such things!" Rúmil chastised.

"I must say these things," Thranduil answered gently. "They are things that could come to pass."

"Do not ask this of me," Rúmil answered.

"I want you to promise me that should you meet another and find your heart aching for them that you will not turn them away out of loyalty to me. I want to know that you are going to be alright."

"I will be."

"Promise me."

"Please, do not make me say such things."

"Please, Rúmil, please do this for me..."

Rúmil closed his eyes and nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around Thranduil. "I had no expectations of you when we met," he said softly. "I have not made assumptions nor asked for anything of you. I will not do so now, except to ask you this: please, do not take any undue risks, do not needlessly put yourself in harm's way. Please, be careful."

Thranduil nodded. "I will be, and I want you to be as well. Lórien may not be as dangerous as Mirkwood, but you are a guardian and the world grows darker each day. If your kindred sail to Aman, I want you to go with them."

Rúmil looked at Thranduil. "And you? When will you sail?"

Thranduil smiled. "I do not know, my treasure. I have yet to hear the call of the sea."

Rúmil gazed into his lover's eyes for long moments before whispering, "Kiss me..."

Thranduil smiled then complied with his lover's request, pressing a lingering kiss to Rúmil's lips.

* * * *

Haldir followed Legolas back to the talan the prince shared with his father. They had made love the night before, slept in one another's arms and hardly said a word to one another since waking. Haldir knew that their physical relationship would end with the prince leaving Lórien. They would always be friends, however, of that he was certain. Legolas was an enigma to him. The prince was strong-willed and prideful at times, yet at others he was kind and generous with his heart. Something weighed upon that lion-like heart, something that Legolas was unwilling to share with him. He sensed his and Legolas' path would cross again, though he knew not how. He and Legolas had grown to be good friends, even if they did not see eye to eye on things; he hoped the prince would be safe now that he was returning to his woodland home.

Upon reaching the foot of the stairs that wound around the bole of the mallorn tree, Legolas stopped and turned to face Haldir. A sad smile curved his lips and he caressed the marchwarden's cheek.

"Thank you for your kindness and friendship, Haldir," he said softly.

Haldir smiled. "It was my honor, Legolas."

They embraced one another and Legolas heard a long sigh escape Haldir. He pulled back and placed his hands upon Haldir's shoulders.

"What is the matter, my friend?" he asked quietly.

"I am worried about Rúmil," Haldir answered. "He is saddened by your father's departure."

Legolas nodded. "It is for the best and in time, Rúmil will see this. Who is to say that they will not be reunited? One never knows what the future may bring."

Haldir nodded. "We are resuming our posts on the northern fences after you and your father leave. I think being on duty will be good for him."

Legolas smiled. "The love you have for your brother touches me deeply, Haldir. I have no siblings and have never known that kind of love and friendship. My mother sailed when I was young so all I have is my father, I hope that explains why I am so protective of him."

"It does," Haldir answered. "He is your father and your king, it is your duty to protect him, as it is my duty to protect my lord and lady."

Legolas took his hand and smiled. "Come, it is time."

Haldir smiled and nodded, then followed Legolas up the steps to his talan.

* * * *

Hûnbreg lay at the foot of Elladan's bed, curled up on a rug and snoring loudly. Elladan sat propped up by pillows against the head of the bed, watching Elrohir prepare a cup of tea for him with healing herbs provided by their father. He sat up, a bemused expression upon his face, and gazed upon the sleeping hound at the foot of his bed.

"How did she come to be in my room, Elrohir?" he asked with amusement.

Elrohir smiled. "I thought she would like to stand guard over you; she has taken quite a liking to you, you know."

"My mistake was in feeding her," Elladan groused playfully.

Elrohir snorted. "Come now, you love the old girl and you know it." He handed Elladan the cup of tea. "Now drink it down, all of it."

"Yes, Elrohir," Elladan answered in the tone of voice he reserved for his father when they had been young.

"I gave her a bath while you were napping," Elrohir continued. "Did you not notice?"

Elladan nodded and swallowed. "Aye, I noticed. She no longer smells like the barnyard."

Elrohir placed his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow teasingly. "Must you be so petulant?" he asked.

Elladan drank the last drop of tea and placed the cup on the table beside the bed. "You love me when I am petulant," he answered. He looked at the dog again. "She doesn't act like a watchdog. She is sleeping..."

"She doesn't sense danger," Elrohir answered, a skeptical look upon his face.

"How does she know you won't harm me?" Elladan asked playfully.

Elrohir mounted the bed and straddled his twin's legs. "Perhaps I will. You are at my mercy."

Elladan raised one eyebrow then smiled. "I am always at your mercy, Elrohir." He shifted beneath his twin. "Is the door locked?" he asked softly.

"Aye," Elrohir answered huskily. He smiled wickedly at his twin then fell upon him, assaulting his neck with kisses.

Elladan fought back playfully and called out, "Help!"

Hûnbreg leapt to her feet and ran to the side of the bed, barking once. Elladan laughed then said, "Good girl. Get Elrohir, get him..."

Hûnbreg yipped and began to leap around next to the bed. Elrohir laughed then rubbed her on the head. "Stay down there, girl. You might hurt him if you jump up here."

"Aye," Elladan answered with a chuckle. "She weighs nearly as much as you do." The tea began to take effect, and combined with the lack of sleep from the night before, Elladan found he was very sleepy. He fought back a yawn then sighed deeply.

Elrohir caressed his twin's face then helped Elladan scoot down into the bed. "Rest, brother," he said softly. "Hûnbreg and I will watch over you." He stretched out between Elladan's legs as Hûnbreg returned to her rug. He laid his head upon his twin's chest and listened to the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing. The soft thudding and gentle rhythm soon lulled him into a state of reverie as well, and the room was filled with the sounds of two elves and one dog breathing softly in their sleep.

Hûnbreg raised her head and perked her ears as the chamber door opened soundlessly. She began to wag her nub of a tail and rise to her feet when the visitor silently commanded her to stay. She watched him cross the room and gaze down at the sleeping brothers, then watched him turn and leave as silently as he came. She closed her eyes and placed her head back down upon her front paws, yawning as the door was closed once again.

To be continued...

Summary: Thranduil and Rúmil part, Thranduil and Legolas have a talk, Erestor and Lindir are treated to a show.

Standing at the border of the Golden Wood, Rúmil battled to keep his emotions under control. Thranduil's guard was preparing to lead the way into the Vales of the Anduin and Haldir was saying goodbye to Legolas. He wished he could be more like his brother as he watched Haldir embrace Legolas with a smile. Haldir was always so stoic, so strong in the face of everything. He felt a lump rising in his throat and he swallowed, blinking several times to combat the stinging of unshed tears in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked up from the ground as the tips of Thranduil's boots appeared in his line of sight, and he gazed into his lover's eyes.

'Such eyes,' he thought to himself, 'those are his most dangerous weapon.' He schooled his expression into one of calm acceptance as his lover-king placed his hands upon his shoulders.

"I will miss you," Thranduil said softly. "My life is all the more rich for having come here and met you, Rúmil." He smiled and placed his hand upon his lover's cheek. "I am so very lucky..."

Rúmil felt his lower lip quiver and he fought back the rising tide of emotion. "Why do you speak as if we will never see one another again?" he asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"One never knows what may happen," Thranduil answered.

"Have you no hope left? I cannot believe that is true, for it is from you that I learned the true meaning of hope."

"Of course I do," Thranduil answered. "But I do not believe in leaving things unsaid." He sighed. "Know that you will always have a place in my heart, Rúmil. I will not forget what we have shared and it will comfort me until we meet again." He drew Rúmil into an embrace. "Be strong, my warrior," he whispered into his ear. "Be proud of who you are, I am."

With those words, Rúmil watched his lover draw away and mount his horse. He caught Legolas by the arm and looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Watch over him," he said earnestly. "Protect him."

"I will," Legolas answered with a reassuring smile, "with my life."

Rúmil felt Haldir's hand upon his shoulder as the King of Mirkwood rode out of the forest. He closed his eyes and leaned into the supportive touch of his elder brother, finally allowing the tears to fall when his lover was out of sight.

"Come," Haldir said comfortingly. "Let us return to our duty."

Rúmil nodded and followed, not uttering a word.

* * * *

As night fell over the forest, Thranduil sat upon a fallen tree, gazing into the misty darkness. One of his guards kept watch while the other slept, and his own thoughts were upon the images in Galadriel's mirror. The mist crept along the ground, like a slow moving caterpillar, gray and swollen as it ambled over the low sloping hills. The wood was alive with the sound of crickets and other nocturnal life moving about under cover of darkness.

He sensed that Legolas stood behind him, his son's watchful gaze focused upon his back. He made no move to acknowledge him; he merely stared into the dark.

Legolas approached and took a seat beside him on the fallen tree, a soft sigh escaping him. "You do not sleep?" he asked quietly.

"I do not feel the need to," Thranduil answered. A long pause was interrupted when he continued, "Why are you not in the land of dreams, Greenleaf?"

"I suppose I am not in need of rest either," Legolas answered quietly. "It was the right thing to do, father," he continued. "I know it was difficult, but it was the right thing to do. Mirkwood is a dangerous place, and I know the guilt you would suffer should anything happen to him."

"Strange," Thranduil answered, "that you think this when you yourself will not leave even when I order you to do so."

"Mirkwood is my home, it is not Rúmil's," Legolas answered defensively. "You are my king, I have a duty to you and to my kindred."

Thranduil turned and looked at his son. Legolas had grown into such a beautiful elf; there was a light in his eyes that shown from him, a sense of pride and purpose that lent an air of strength to him. "I am your father first, Greenleaf. I am your father above all other things."

"I know," Legolas answered, his tone softer. He looked at the ground and sighed. "Why must we always do this?" he asked quietly.

"Because I am your father, and you are my son. It is what fathers and sons do," Thranduil answered, his own tone softening. He placed his arm around Legolas' shoulders. "I am proud of you, Legolas. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities as a warrior and as a prince. I cannot help it if I sometimes forget that you are grown. I love you so much, I only want you to be safe."

Legolas leaned his head upon his father's shoulder. "I know, and I am sorry if I was disrespectful. But there is nothing in this world that can make me turn away from my duty, not even your command."

Thranduil chuckled softly. "You are a stubborn one."

"Like father, like son," Legolas returned. They sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of the wood. Legolas broke the silence. "I love you, father."

Thranduil turned and placed a kiss upon the top of his son's head. "I love you, my son. I always have and I always will."

* * * *

Spring waned into summer, and summer into early autumn. It was a warm fall day when Lindir and Erestor took a midday break from their duties to walk down to the barracks and training grounds to watch their lovers practice their craft. Gildor had been transferred to border duty, so he was home more often than he had been in the past. He had practically taken up residence in Lindir's quarters, having moved some articles of clothing and personal effects.

The air was still that afternoon and it was unusually warm in the haven of Imladris. Lindir carried a fan made out of silk stretched over willow fronds that Arwen had made for him, waving it gently back and forth in front of his face as they made their way down the path. Erestor tugged at his robes; even the lighter summer ones he wore were unusually uncomfortable that day. They each carried a flagon of water and Erestor had a small basket draped over his arm filled with fruits, cheeses, and breads so that they might enjoy a light lunch before returning to their duties.

"We shall find a place under a tree, in the shade," Erestor said as they traversed the dirt path through the trees. "It is unusual for it to be so warm."

"Aye," Lindir agreed. "I should like to bathe in the river this afternoon, if time permits."

Erestor contemplated the work on his desk. There were goods manifests and trade documents, but other than those, he only had the ongoing work of document preservation that he and Lindir performed in the library. "I suppose the library can wait for one afternoon," he said as they rounded the corner and passed Glorfindel's office. "I doubt the ink shall fade beyond reading before the morning."

Lindir smiled. "Excellent! Then bathing in the river it shall be..."

Erestor chuckled softly and shook his head. Upon reaching the glade where the soldiers practiced their hand-to-hand combat techniques, Erestor found the perfect place to sit. A low wall constructed of smooth stones ran the perimeter of the training field and a large Birch tree stood just at the side of it, casting a long shadow across the ground.

Gildor was poised at the edge of the pit and Glorfindel stood near the small well that provided water to thirsty soldiers. Erestor watched in rapt fascination as his lover retrieved a small bucket from the well and turned it over his head. Water cascaded down his head, shoulders and back, dripping from the ends of his wet, golden hair and flowing in rivulets across the hills and valleys of his sculpted torso. Gildor was already wet, his dark hair smoothed behind his ears, the cloth of his summer leggings clinging to the muscles in his backside, thighs and calves. Erestor felt a slight movement of the air and looked at Lindir to see his friend fanning himself furiously. He laughed aloud and shook his head, tugging upon Lindir's sleeve to guide him toward the tree.

"Oh my," Lindir said quietly. "It is warmer down here than it is at the house."

Erestor chuckled again and agreed. Their lovers saw them arrive and greeted them with upraised hands and bright smiles. Lindir and Erestor spread a blanket in the shade beneath the tree and began unpacking their goods. Glorfindel and Gildor approached, the latter hopping upon Glorfindel's back. Glorfindel happily carried Gildor piggyback, then deposited him in front of Lindir before kneeling to give his lover a kiss.

"Mmm..." Glorfindel purred. "You brought peaches." He plucked one from the pile and bit into it, his tongue darting out and catching a stray drop of juice.

"Your training has gone well, I assume?" Erestor asked with an upraised eyebrow and a smile as Glorfindel leaned in to give him another kiss.

"Yes," the warrior murmured against Erestor's mouth. "Though we are not quite finished."

Erestor sucked the juice from Glorfindel's lips then licked his own, a smile setting his eyes to glittering.

"Hello, my nightingale," Gildor said softly into his love's ear.

"You are wet." Lindir answered with a gentle laugh.

"I am," Gildor concurred as he crouched over the seated Lindir on all fours.

"Are you finished?" Lindir asked with a soft whisper.

"Not just yet," Gildor replied. "Though I am now motivated to finish very quickly. Come, my Balrog slaying friend, we have work to do." He addressed Glorfindel, but his attention never wavered from Lindir.

Lindir felt a delightful shiver run the length of his spine under his lover's intense gaze, and his fingertips traced the line of Gildor's jaw as his warrior pulled away.

Gildor and Glorfindel stood side by side near where Erestor and Lindir sat. They stood with feet apart, arms up stretched and heads leaning backward. They leaned first right then left, then came back to center before slowly twisting in each direction.

"What are they doing?" Lindir asked Erestor in a quiet whisper.

"They are stretching their muscles after the strenuous task of their training. It is a necessary component if one is to remain in peak physical condition," Erestor answered.

"You used to do this, yes?" Lindir asked.

"Aye," Erestor answered. "During my time as a soldier."

Lindir grabbed Erestor's hand. "Show me how." He gave a gentle tug as he rose to his feet.

Erestor raised an eyebrow and answered, "It has been many years since I have done this..."

"Come, Erestor. This cannot be good for only warriors. Can we not all benefit from this activity?"

Erestor smiled and nodded. "Aye, we can. Take off your robe and your shirt and shoes, you will be more comfortable in the sun." Erestor removed his dark robe and the thin, linen shirt he wore, hanging them over a low branch. He then pulled off his shoes and set them next to the wall. Lindir followed suit, then joined Erestor upon the soft grass in the sunshine.

Erestor walked him through the different exercises, showing him how to get the maximum benefit from each without overtaxing his muscles. Glorfindel and Gildor watched as they went about their task and a smile played upon Gildor's lips. The sun was shining brightly, and soon Lindir found his skin was damp with perspiration, despite having removed his shirt. They were standing with their feet far apart, bent over at the waist and hands hanging down by their feet. Lindir jumped when Gildor's hands came to rest on his hips, as he hadn't heard his lover approach and his eyes had been closed.

"Place your hands palms down on the ground," Gildor said softly. Lindir complied and looked back over his shoulder at him. "Good. Now walk your hands away from your body slowly, do not roll up onto the balls of your feet until you can go no further. Good. Now, bring your feet together slowly, then continue to walk your hands forward until you are lying on your stomach."

Lindir followed instructions until he was in the desired position. He felt Gildor crouching over him and looked over his shoulder. "Now what do I do?" he asked with a smile.

"Lift your upper body off the ground, but keep your hips down, this stretches your chest and stomach muscles."

Lindir complied and nodded. "Yes, I can feel that."

Gildor leaned over and murmured into Lindir's ear, "Have I told you that you are particularly lovely this afternoon?"

Lindir smiled. "Not as such, no."

"Well, you are, very, very lovely..."

Lindir felt his face flush slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Glorfindel and Erestor in the most peculiar position. His mentor was flat on his back and Glorfindel stood over him. The warrior held both of Erestor's ankles and had his legs spread far apart. Erestor lay on his back with his hands tucked behind his head and a smile on his lips.

"What are they doing?" Lindir asked in a hushed whisper.

Gildor chuckled. "Stretching the muscles of the inside of his thighs... Why? What did you think they were doing?"

"Gildor!" Lindir exclaimed in hushed whisper.

"You can imagine how that particular exercise is beneficial, yes?"

"Gildor!" Lindir exclaimed louder. "You are wicked..." he added with a smile.

Gildor chuckled and deposited a kiss upon his lover's neck, then grasped him under the arms. "Come, my songbird, I am hungry. Let us see what you have brought with you."

Lindir allowed Gildor to lift him from the ground and followed him to the blanket that was spread upon the ground in the shade of the tree.

To be continued...

Summary: The Imladris lovers share a lazy autumn afternoon.

A gentle, warm breeze began to ruffle the leaves as Erestor, Glorfindel, Gildor and Lindir lounged on the blanket Erestor had brought and enjoyed their picnic. Erestor leaned back against the stone wall, using his robe as a cushion, while Glorfindel reclined between his bent legs, his lover's muscular body glowing and glistening from being in the sun. Erestor playfully fed his lover, smiling as Glorfindel leaned his head back and opened his mouth in silent request. He held a slice of cheese and watched as Glorfindel reached for it with his mouth, taking it between his teeth. A tremor moved through him as his lover's lips closed upon his fingers; he would never grow tired of Glorfindel.

There was something empowering about this turn in their relationship. It seemed that as time had gone on the balance of 'power', if one would call it that, had shifted back and forth, from him to Glorfindel, then back again. It currently resided in his hands: the control, the power, and a sense of ownership, for lack of a better word. Glorfindel was his lover, his beloved, and Erestor would defend that relationship with every ounce of his strength. On their trip to Lórien, Glorfindel had taken control and had been very possessive of Erestor. While there was a part of him that had enjoyed it, Erestor had to admit it left him feeling vulnerable in light of Glorfindel's reluctance to take the final step in the course of their relationship. After their brief separation, and Glorfindel's return from the White Council, the pendulum had shifted once again and Erestor found himself back in a position of dominance as he had been in the beginning.

He was still uncertain as to what was going on in Glorfindel's head, though this was no uncommon thing; he had never really understood the workings of his friend and lover's mind in all the long years they had known one another. He abandoned his thoughts and looked back down at his golden lover who was akin to the drawings of the deities worshipped by men since their birth in this world. Yes, Glorfindel was unusually beautiful, but many elves were: Legolas, the twins, Thranduil, Galadriel, Arwen… The secret to his beloved's beauty lay in his spirit, in that which one could sense if they knew Glorfindel well enough. Glorfindel's spirit was an old one; indeed, it had been all these long years. Yet despite the pain and trials it had born, it was still young in some ways, still hopeful; but his lover was no optimistic idealist. Glorfindel had seen things that no other should, had experienced things that an elf like Lindir or Arwen or even the Galadhrim had ever experienced. He had died and been returned, his spirit and his body had been sundered and rejoined. This was indeed a most unique experience. As he smiled at his beautiful lover under the shade of a elm tree on a warm autumn day in Imladris, it was hard to remember these things, hard to remember the fall with the Balrog, hard to remember the grim determination on his face when he pursued the Witch King, hard to remember his grappling with Annatar. The elf that looked at him now was happy, was at peace…Or was he?

Was Glorfindel ever at rest? Was his lover's heart ever truly unburdened? His own was not. He could immerse himself in work and the day-to-day pleasantries of living and working in Imladris, but ever the burden of the Kinslaying hung upon his heart. More than anything, Erestor wanted to forget those dark days and he wanted to shield his beloved from any further pain. More than anything he wanted to bond with Glorfindel, to share everything, including his pain, so that the burden might be easier for him.

He had tried to talk to Glorfindel about these things and tried to share his heart's greatest wish with the one he loved above all others. But whenever he did, Glorfindel would use his sensual charm to distract him. Erestor could only assume this was because the topic made him uncomfortable. 'No matter how long it takes,' Erestor thought to himself, 'I will break down this last wall between us.'

Glorfindel smiled up at Erestor, his hands caressing the sides of his lover's thighs. He could tell by the look in Erestor's eye that his lover was preoccupied and he could only imagine by what. In retrospect, embarking upon this new facet of his relationship with Erestor had been a mistake; he knew this. It had been wrong to open a door he was not fully prepared to enter. However, it was too late now, for he could not go back. Somehow, he had to find a way to make Erestor happy, but he feared he would fail. There had been too much he had gone through; he was too wounded to ever be able to make his lover happy. He felt selfish for holding on to his friend and keeping him from finding love with one who was better equipped to return the affection and strength that Erestor so freely gave. He was being selfish, he knew this; it would be one more thing he would be called to account for if the long days of his life were to come to an end again.

Gildor smiled as Lindir settled on his lap, accepting the proffered strawberry between his teeth. It was good to be home and good to be with his lover. He and Lindir were still in that period of time when they could hardly wait to see one another or be together. They were still learning about one another, still discovering the others likes and dislikes. Lindir was a doting lover and that was something that Gildor had never had. In turn, he had someone to dote upon and he found he enjoyed taking care of his songbird. Lindir leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he smiled. The soft touch of his lover's lips upon his face caused his heart to beat more strongly in his chest; he could easily lose himself in Lindir's eyes and his arms. He had always wondered what it felt like to be loved in this way.

Lindir nuzzled his lover's cheek, breathing in his musky scent and tasting the salt upon his lips as he kissed Gildor's hairline. His lover smelled wild, like the woods he had lived in for so many years; indeed, there was a wild quality about Gildor that excited Lindir beyond reason. His lover was so different from the courtly elves he had taken as lovers in the past. Gildor was powerfully built, strong in spirit and mind, and disciplined in his ways. Even when he relinquished control, it was done in a confident and easy way, as if there were nothing in Middle-earth that could shake his composure. This powerful presence Gildor had was comforting to Lindir in more ways than he could articulate. He felt so safe in Gildor's arms, as if there were nothing in the wide world that could touch him or harm him.

His hands roamed over Gildor's shoulders and chest; he loved the solidity of his lover's body and the power that rippled just beneath the surface of his warm, soft skin. He whispered into Gildor's ear, inviting him to swim in the river with him. Gildor smiled in that way that raised gooseflesh on Lindir's body and nodded. He moved off his lover's lap then rose to his feet, nodding and smiling at Erestor and Glorfindel as they departed the training grounds.

Erestor looked down at Glorfindel, who stretched seductively in a rather cat-like way. Glorfindel murmured something about a nap and Erestor nodded. "As you wish, lover," he answered, allowing Glorfindel to rise to his feet and help him up. They packed up their belongings and walked hand in hand back to the Last Homely House, Erestor leaning his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder as they went.

* * * *

Lindir wrapped his legs tightly around Gildor's waist as his lover carried him across the threshold to his bedchamber. His long fingers were fisted in Gildor's hair as he arched and writhed in Gildor's grip, moaning into their deep, passionate kiss. He absently heard the door slam shut and a whimper escaped him as Gildor's fingers gripped his backside. They were both still wet, the chill from the cold water of the river rapidly fading in the heat that was building between them.

In the months since their courtship began, the lovemaking had been wonderful; it was romantic, gentle full of emotion. But this day, in the heat of a late autumn afternoon, it was fevered, desperate. He wanted Gildor to take him, something that had not happened between them yet. It was the first time that Gildor had handled him thusly and he wondered if this was not the sort of lovemaking he was more accustomed to. Lindir knew that Gildor handled him like he were made of crystal and that this was due to the soft nature of his body. Lindir was no weakling, but he was lithe and willowy, far smaller in mass and stature than his beloved.

A breathy "Oh!" escaped him as he impacted the bed roughly and was immediately covered by Gildor's muscular form. He arched against him, clutching at his back and shoulders, groaning in desperate need, as his beloved tasted his neck and chest.

"I want you," Gildor said in a deep, throaty growl.

"Take me," Lindir answered in a pleading whisper.

He whimpered again as Gildor escaped his grasp, and he propped himself up on his elbows and watched his beloved. Gildor retrieved a phial of almond oil from the nightstand and proceeded to unlace Lindir's damp leggings. Lindir lifted his hips as Gildor pulled them free then watched in heated anticipation as Gildor removed his own.

Gildor was barely able to contain his desire as he reached for his lover, encouraging Lindir to rise to his hands and knees. He did not want to handle him as he had handled others; Lindir was far too beautiful and gentle a creature for that sort of lovemaking. But the thought of burying himself inside his beloved's lithe body, of being enveloped in him, in being one with him, was almost more than his sense of restraint could bear.

He mounted the bed behind Lindir and placed his hands upon his lover's hips. He caressed the fine, pale flesh, gently kneading the muscles of Lindir's tight backside with his fingers. He loved Lindir's body. It was so elegant, so graceful; it was as an elf should be. He bestowed soft kisses upon the taut, round globes of ivory flesh before him and heard Lindir issue a shuddering sigh. He knew his beloved was no innocent in the ways of the flesh, after all, he had been Erestor's lover and the counselor had a reputation of sorts.

Leaning over Lindir, he slid an oiled finger inside him. His own body quivered at the contact and he felt his arousal twitch in response. He began kissing his lover's back and shoulders, his touch becoming more possessive and claiming as Lindir's passion rose. His beloved arched beneath him, needful moans escaping his lips as Lindir began to press back against his hand. He bit down on Lindir's shoulder, enough to mark him but not enough to cause injury and he heard Lindir whisper, "Yes…"

Lindir trembled as Gildor's finger left his body and was replaced with his turgid length. He spread his knees farther apart as he felt the tip of Gildor's length pressing against his entrance and he wadded the covers in his fists. A keening cry escaped him as Gildor was sheathed inside his body and he breathed deeply as he began to relax around the invasion. He felt Gildor's hands roaming his back and hips, conferring soft, reassuring touches while lending a sense of possession at the same time. He began to rock gently against Gildor, encouraging him to move within him.

Gildor placed his hand upon Lindir's chest and encouraged him to rise to his knees, and then he wrapped his arms around his lithe lover's body and buried his face in Lindir's neck. He moved slowly at first, though every part of his being cried out for more. Soon, he and Lindir moved together, his lover's head had fallen back upon his shoulder, his flaxen hair caressed the flesh of his back and Lindir's long fingers gripped his hips. The moans that came from his beloved only heightened the sense of magic of the moment; Lindir's voice in passion was indeed the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The words Lindir whispered, the declarations of love, they were like odes to a love long denied; they were a siren call to his heart.

He was fully seated inside his beautiful lover's body, sliding in and out of his tight, velvet heat. His arms were wrapped around him, his mouth consumed him; he wished he could crawl inside Lindir and stay there forever. His release was coming; he felt it rising inside like a great tide. 'Hold on' Gildor told himself. 'He must have his first…'

Lindir bowed and arched against his lover, his fingers digging into the muscles of Gildor's hips, his arousal straining upward against his flat stomach. He was so close it was almost painful; the temptation to touch himself almost more than he could bear. He felt tears stinging his eyes and his body tightened powerfully. He cried out as his release came, the warm seed flowing over his stomach. It came in wave after wave and his body felt as though it would collapse in on itself. All strength left him and he leaned back against Gildor's strong chest.

Lindir's cry and tightening body caused Gildor to groan deeply in response. His length was squeezed mercilessly; his body was trembling, perched on the edge of his own fall. A deep growl escaped him and he found his own climax, spilling himself inside his beloved. He stroked Lindir's hair as he cradled him in his arms, depositing soft kisses upon his neck, ear and cheek. "I love you, Lindir," he said in a throaty whisper.

A soft laugh escaped Lindir and he smiled. "I love you, my beautiful warrior," he answered. "You have made me so very happy."

As Gildor slipped from Lindir's body, he gently laid his beloved songbird upon the bed, stretching out next to him and holding him close. Lindir sighed and snuggled back against him, despite the heat in the room, content to be where he knew he belonged. A grumbling expression of discontent escaped his lips when Gildor left him. He watched as his beloved opened the windows to let in the late afternoon breeze. Then Gildor returned with a cloth doused in cool water and proceeded to cleanse the remnants of their lovemaking from his body.

Lindir wriggled under the sheets, holding them up for Gildor as his lover returned to the bed. He then curled into Gildor's arms and sighed, content to luxuriate there until it was time to bathe and dress for the evening meal.

To be continued…