Title: The Undiscovered Country
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Legolas, Glorfindel/Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen, Gimli, to be named Vanya.
Beta: Fimbrethiel
WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two or more males, some angst, shameless PWP and romantic fluffiness.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this
Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com
Author's Notes: Eighth and final story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the Fourth Age, in Valinor, after the departure of the last of the members of the Fellowship. The title is taken from Hamlet's soliloquy, "To Be or Not To Be".
"To be, or not to be--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause..."
Hamlet, Act 3, scene I ~ William Shakespeare
Summary: Legolas struggles to find his purpose and searches for a face he does not know. Another struggles to understand the confusion in his own spirit.
To arrive in Aman is to be reborn, Legolas thought. He had been thusly reborn into a place he had never seen, to a world he did not know, and to a purpose that was yet to be revealed to him. All his life he had been a warrior prince, a soldier, and a king. Here, in this undiscovered country, this place of eternal peace, these Undying Lands, he was adrift. There were no lands to protect, no people to govern, no wars to fight.
The last years of his life in Middle-earth had been spent exploring forests and mountains, trying to take in all that he would not have a second chance to see. Knowing one's days are limited provides a sense of clarity that time uncounted does not. He learned that from Éomer: live life to its fullest every day that you have. It was not the way of Elves, to breathe in each last measure of air, to experience life as if it was one's last day on earth; only those who had faced death understood this. The Elves in Valinor had a peaceful eternity to live and learn, and often they bided their time in quiet contemplation.
Many of the elves that were born in Middle-earth had some difficulty adjusting to this new way of life in Aman, Legolas among them. He was a restless spirit that was forever in motion, wandering the pathways of the cities, exploring the woods and mountains, and Gimli was ever at his side. The dwarf was getting old; his last hale years were upon him now and he was eager to see all that he could ere he passed. As they wandered, Legolas searched each new face he encountered for some sign of recognition, some indication that his father's reborn spirit walked the lands of Valinor.
It was a bright afternoon when he immersed himself in just such an activity. He was wandering the streets of Tirion, walking through a market where elves traded their wares. Long rows of stalls lined the square, bedecked with tapestries, baskets, intricate silver and gem work, rugs, blankets, and all manner of goods. Occasionally, he would stop and pick up something to decorate a home he did not yet have. Crates lined the basement of Elladan and Elrohir's home, filled with books and maps and various things he had sent to Aman from his father's caves. He had kept his father's bed, along with the furnishings from his father's private chambers; his own things he had given to the staff that had served both him and his father so well. He had no kitchen goods, having that area cared for all his life, so he began accumulating pans and crockery as well.
The smell of fresh bread enticed him around a corner and down a different aisle, and he adjusted the roll of drapery that was tucked under his arm. Gimli followed, pulling a large iron pot that had been set on a cart of sorts, so that he might handle it on his own. Legolas remarked that the dwarf was talking about making a stew that night in his new pot and was wondering how long it would take to properly season the pot before cooking in it. Legolas patted his pocket, making a mental calculation of how much he carried to barter with, then made his way down the aisle containing the foodstuffs. He found a vendor who was selling fresh-baked blackberry treats. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some small stones and gold pieces. With a smile, he selected a pretty, blue stone, nearly translucent, that was gifted to him years ago by a friend of his father. He held out his hand and the young fair-haired elleth smiled broadly as she plucked the stone from his palm. Excitedly she showed her parents, who smiled and nodded. It was a lavish payment, but it made the young elleth happy. Legolas thanked the youngling, then handed one tart to Gimli and took a bite out of his own. Gimli winked at the child as he passed, causing the young one to giggle.
By the time they left the market, Gimli's pot was filled with two loaves of fresh bread, some blackberries, mushrooms, apples, various herbs, five bottles of wine and three cleaned pheasants wrapped in paper.
"There's our meal this evening," Gimli said in a satisfied voice as they left the market, licking the juice of blackberries off his fingertips.
"I have no idea how to prepare this; I have only ever cooked pheasant over an open fire. I wish I remembered how Samwise prepared it; that was one of the most delicious birds I had ever tasted," Legolas answered.
"No doubt the hobbit knew how to prepare a meal," Gimli agreed. "Have no fear, laddie. I will do all the cooking this evening." In his mind, he began running over all the different ways he could cook pheasant.
As they walked along, Legolas felt the fine hairs tingle on the back of his neck; it was as if he felt his father's gaze on him as he had the day of their arrival. Quickly, he looked around, his eyes scanning the long pathways of the inner city, but he saw no one. Shrugging, he continued on his way, with Gimli in tow.
The Vanya disappeared into the shadow of the doorway, his gaze fixed on the hero from Middle-earth. There were a few that took note of Legolas; hushed murmurs had greeted the Vanya's ears as he followed the Sinda King. It was evident, even to those who did not know of Legolas by reputation, that he had come from Middle-earth; it was also evident that he was of noble birth, being fluent not only in Sindarin and Quenya, but in Westron, the language of Men, as well. The Vanya listened to the strange speech of men that Legolas used when addressing the dwarf, trying to garner some meaning out of words that were wholly unlike his own tongue.
He continued to follow the Sinda throughout the day, breaking off his shadowy pursuit only when Anor began her descent. Placing his pack into the small boat, he paddled out into the water and toward his island home.
He was unlike his own kind, this mysterious and unusual Vanya. Rather than dwell in the cities with his kindred, he lived in a small, solitary dwelling on the wooded shores of Tol Eressëa. Until Legolas' arrival, his trips to the mainland of Valinor had been limited to those occasions when ships arrived from Middle-earth, when he visited his parents, or when he needed something that his island home did not provide.
His parents, while loving him as much as any parents could possibly love their child, found him to be a quite unusual elfling. He was bored easily by the games of his childhood friends, preferring to climb trees and read books. They were confounded by his fascination with the sea, and as he grew older would lose him for days at a time when he paddled out to the island from their home near the city. He had once heard his father tell a good friend that they were merely guardians to him; that their purpose was to watch over him until the day came that he no longer needed them. Most children would be hurt by this statement, but the Vanya was not, for deep inside he knew it was true. He was like a child with an adult's spirit, whiling away the days until his body caught up with his soul.
He was an artistic young elf, prone to sketching and drawing from the days he was first able to wield a pen. His drawings were strange to his parents, places none of them had ever seen before, places that seemed to be born from a vivid imagination. Later in his life, when the elves from Middle-earth first began arriving in significant numbers, he had begun traveling to the mainland more often. As the years grew on, he impatiently awaited each ship; no one in his family understood this fascination.
Shortly after the ceremony that marked his coming of majority, he had begun building the small home he lived in on Tol Eressëa. He would withdraw into the woods of the island to tend his garden and care for his forest friends. He could be found feeding deer from his hand or spreading seed for the birds when he was not swimming, or tending his garden. He loved his parents; he was grateful to them for the love and care they had given him as an elfling, but he was not as connected to them as his brother or his sister were, nor was he very close to his siblings. Until the elves began arriving from Middle-earth, he had felt like a stranger amongst his own kind.
As the waves lapped at the sides of his small boat, he remembered the elf who had introduced himself the day Legolas arrived. Something about the elf seemed familiar, though they had never met. He felt at ease near him, though he was sure that in his own awkward way that did not come across. Rúmil, his name had been, and Galen was Rúmil's mate. He had nearly forgotten about Rúmil once Legolas arrived; the arrival of the great Sinda hero had wiped many things from his mind. Indeed, Legolas was almost all he thought of now, when he was swimming at dawn, when he lay down to sleep. His garden was sorely in need of tending because he now spent his days following the Sinda and the dwarf around the city. Yet, for all his fascination, he could not bring himself to approach the fair king. The sadness he saw in Legolas' eyes tugged at his heart, yet he was unable to offer comfort. Instead, he followed the Sinda, watching over him for reasons he was not aware of.
He pulled the boat up onto the pebbled shore and then retreated into the woods.
* * * *
Legolas and Gimli sat upon the veranda of the twins' home. Elladan and Elrohir were inside cleaning up after the evening meal. The dwarf sat back in his chair, his feet propped upon the stone railing as he drew upon his pipe. Legolas leaned back on the chaise, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles.
"We were followed today," he said softly.
Gimli paused before releasing a puff of smoke. "Did you see who it was?"
"No, but I sensed them there. I do not think they meant us harm, perhaps they were curious."
"About what?"
"It is not every day that one sees a dwarf and an elf shopping in the town square."
Gimli chuckled. "Aye, this is true."
"I want to walk to the shore tomorrow."
"Sounds like a fine way to spend a day. I would like to see if there are any caves in those cliffs."
"Seeking a home?" Legolas asked with a smile.
"Aye. While this one is fine, no doubt, I am a dwarf and my place is beneath ground."
Legolas took a sip of the potent Mirkwood brandy that had been shipped from his home. "I would like to think your place is beside me."
"It is," Gimli agreed. "But you would not begrudge me a home of my own, would you?"
"Never," Legolas answered. "I only hope you find a cave tall enough that I do not have to stoop when I visit you."
Gimli chuckled. "I could always make adjustments."
Legolas smiled and looked up at the night sky. He was lonely. He missed the comfort of a warm body beside him in bed, he missed strong arms holding him; truth be known, he missed the scent of leather and wild grasses. He missed Éomer. He had thought of the man many times over the long years. He had thought of all that never could have been, and all that turned out to be. He counted himself lucky to have known the best of men, not just the worst. There had been many good men: Éomer, Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Imrahil, Halbarad, and those who carried on their legacies. Gimli interrupted his thoughts.
"Well, I am taking my tired old bones to bed."
Legolas looked back at his dear friend and smiled. "Sleep well, my friend," he said softly.
"Aye, laddie. You as well."
Long moments passed and Legolas listened to the distant waves and the wind in the trees. He heard the twins come out onto the veranda and he looked up to see Elladan kneel beside him.
"You need a lover," the elder twin said in his frank way.
"I know," Legolas answered. "but I am not sure if I am ready."
Elrohir leaned against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. "You hold onto what you cannot regain, Legolas. This does you no good."
"Am I to just forget him?" Legolas asked.
"We know you could never do that," Elladan answered.
"I have been searching, but I have not found him. What if he has not been released?" Legolas closed his eyes. "What if he dwells in Mandos' Halls still?"
"You should speak with Glorfindel," Elrohir said softly. "He is the only one among us who remembers; he is the only one who knows the journey."
"Will he speak of it with me?" Legolas asked in earnest.
"He cares very much for you, Legolas. There is little you could ask of him that he would not give," Elrohir replied.
"Perhaps I shall see him tomorrow, after I return from the coast."
Elrohir nodded and crossed the short distance to where Legolas lay. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his friend's forehead. "You know, should you need comfort, Elladan and I are here. We would ask no more of you than you were willing to give."
"I know," Legolas answered quietly. "I am grateful for your friendship."
"We love you," Elladan said as he caressed Legolas' cheek.
The twins then rose and entered the house, hand in hand.
To be continued...
Summary: Legolas discovers the place of his dreams with Gimli's help.
Legolas and Gimli walked side by side along the rugged shores of Aman. His eyes searched the distance, a look of frustration on his face.
"What is the matter, laddie?" Gimli asked as he looked up at his friend.
"This is not right. Where are the trees? Where is the forest?"
The long expanse of shoreline was virtually devoid of vegetation, bounded on one side by the sea and by cliffs on the other. Gimli stopped and placed his hands on his hips. Shielding his eyes, he looked out at the island of Tol Eressëa. "What about that place? It is an island, it must have a beach."
Legolas turned and his eyes lit up. "Yes! That must be it! Come, we must find a boat."
Gimli followed Legolas back to the harbor, struggling to keep up with the elf's long strides. He was not sure what Legolas was looking for; his friend had never told him and he was not of the sort to pry. What he did know was that Legolas would never be at rest until he found what he searched for, and as his own years grew short, his greatest wish was to see his friend at peace.
Gimli had visited Galadriel weekly since their arrival in Valinor, seeking counsel for his good friend. Galadriel was among the wisest of Elves, having seen much and lived through much in her long life. He worried about who would look after Legolas when he passed, and Galadriel assured him that there was no shortage of those who loved the king. Elladan and Elrohir made the same assurances to Gimli, and the dwarf knew that there were few who loved his best friend as much as they did.
Legolas paused and knelt beside his friend as they reached the harbor. "I am sorry, Gimli," he said quietly. "In my rush to find a boat, I forgot that it is growing harder for you to keep pace with me."
Gimli's breath was labored, but he had been able to keep up with Legolas. "I shall catch my breath on the boat. Not to worry, laddie."
Legolas gently squeezed Gimli's shoulder, and then helped his friend into the small boat.
* * * *
The Vanya heard the soft scraping of the hull upon the smooth stones as the boat slid up onto the shore. He rarely had visitors; sometimes his parents would come, but most often, this part of the island was his to inhabit alone. He waited. If it was his parents, they would call out to him as they approached. When he did not hear their call, he began walking toward the shoreline to see who had arrived. He was a short distance away when he heard Legolas speaking in Westron to the dwarf. He stepped behind a large tree and tried to make sense of their words.
"Yes! This is it! Brilliant idea, Gimli... this is exactly how I saw it in my dreams," Legolas exclaimed. "There is the rock!" He sat down upon the smooth surface of the standing rock and gazed out across the bay that lay between the island and mainland. The image before him was nearly the same as the recurring dream he had had since Dunharrow so many years ago. In the dream, he had not seen land on the horizon, which was why he had not thought the location to be Tol Eressëa once they had arrived.
This particular spot was a cove, of sorts, bordered on each side by low cliffs that jutted out into the sea. The beach was covered in small, smooth stones that had been rolled and tossed over the ages by the waves. Behind him was a thick forest, and in front of him were the Bay of Aldamar and the coast of Aman. He imagined what the peak of Taniquetil would look like through the clouds that shrouded it.
Gimli sat down on the ground and lit his pipe, leaning back against the large rock that Legolas sat upon. Neither spoke for long hours, they merely waited and watched the waves roll in upon the beach. The Vanya, in turn, watched them from the forest, torn between the urge to approach and the need to stay hidden. As the sun sank behind the low mountain on the island, he watched them rise and push their boat back out into the water, then row back to the mainland. He lingered at the edge of the woods until he could no longer make them out clearly, and then returned to his home.
* * * *
"Where do they go?" Elrohir asked as he watched Legolas and Gimli walking the path from the city to the harbor.
Elladan stood beside his twin, one arm around Elrohir's waist, one hand upon the balcony railing. "I do not know. Legolas has never said, and I feel strange about asking."
"Every day, nearly since their arrival, they have left just after dawn and returned at dusk. Wherever they go, it cannot be too far, or they would not return at the same time each evening," Elrohir mused.
"Aye, besides, Gimli grows old; he can no longer walk to the edges of the earth as he once could."
"I fear he is not to be with us much longer," Elrohir added. "It will be most difficult for Legolas when he passes."
Elladan tightened his grip on Elrohir's waist. "Legolas has lost so many he has cared for already."
Elrohir leaned his head upon Elladan's shoulder. "Have you noticed the toll it has taken on him? I remember when we first met him, he was so full of life, so radiant."
"He is yet beautiful, but in a different way," Elladan agreed. "It is a tragic, somber beauty." He sighed. "Sometimes it breaks my heart just to look at him."
A tear rolled down Elrohir's cheek. "I know. I have never allowed myself to get so close to another; I have never given so much of myself to anyone but you."
Elladan turned his head and kissed Elrohir's temple. "He has cherished your love, even if he can no longer return it. I know in my heart that Legolas loves you as much as you love him."
Elrohir turned as Gimli and Legolas disappeared from view and wrapped his arms around Elladan's waist. "I love you, Elladan. I could never, would never love anyone as much as I love you."
Elladan held his twin tight. "I know, Elrohir. We are two hearts joined, two bodies joined..."
"Two souls joined," Elrohir finished with a sad smile.
Elladan caressed Elrohir's face. "Aye; that we are." Tilting his brother's chin up slightly, he kissed Elrohir gently, their lips moving against each other as they had for years uncounted.
While many did not understand the love they shared, no one doubted it. All who encountered them saw the bond immediately and no one questioned it, for who were they to judge love? Even their parents accepted it, and Elrond understood it better than anyone else did, perhaps. Having once had a twin of his own, he knew the strength of their bond. Now that they were in Aman, Elrond no longer worried about the repercussions of their love; the Valar and the Elves of Aman would not judge them as men would have.
"Come," Elladan murmured against Elrohir's lips. "Let us take flowers to mother, she has missed us these many years."
Elrohir smiled and nodded. "Roses and gardenia, they are her favorite."
Elladan closed his eyes and brushed his lips against Elrohir's forehead. "I love you, Elrohir," he whispered.
"I love you, Elladan," Elrohir answered.
* * * *
The days marched on, each one the same as the last. Legolas would depart the home he shared with the twins and walk to Gimli's cave. Once there, he would collect his friend, they would walk to the harbor, and he would row them to the cove on Tol Eressëa. Seasons changed: spring turned to summer, summer to autumn, and now winter was coming.
Gimli's cave was small but homey. Legolas discovered that in addition to being a stout and skilled warrior, Gimli was also a master chef and skilled craftsman. The elf would need to nearly crawl through the small opening of the cave, but once inside he could almost stand upright. Gimli kept the opening small, to block out the winds that blew from the sea, and he had crafted a beautifully carved oak door to seal off his abode. Taking advantage of a tube-like hole in the ceiling of the cave, he had fashioned a pipe out of iron to vent his stove, and he had built a bed, table, and some chairs from fallen trees that came from the interior of the mainland. The cave was small and modest, but quite comfortable.
Once Gimli's home had been constructed, he had returned to joining Legolas on his daily voyage to Tol Eressëa. It was late one afternoon, not quite the dead of winter, when he realized his last trip was upon him. He sat on the ground, in his customary place, his cloak drawn tight around him. Beneath it, he wore heavy, fur-lined garments and boots that were lined with fleece. His gloves were also lined and made it difficult for him to stuff his pipe, but he managed nonetheless. Legolas sat above him; the elf's legs were drawn up to his chest, his own cloak wrapped around them. The wind blew strong and cold, causing whitecaps to form on the water.
Gimli knew that elves were nearly impervious to the weather. He had watched Legolas tunnel his way through heavy snow on Caradhras wearing no more than leggings, boots and a tunic. He had seen the elf walk on snow as if it was as solid as rock, watched him swim in water that would have turned his own flesh blue, seen him face heat that would blister the skin of a man without so much as a flinch. Yet, his friend now looked as cold and miserable as he was. This worried Gimli. He worried that the years of hardship and heartache were wearing on his friend, diminishing his elven strength.
As a shadow fell upon the water, cast by the hills behind them, Legolas rose and stretched. The elf had not said one word the entire day and Gimli had been silent as well, trying to give Legolas support in whatever way he could. He grasped Legolas' proffered hand and allowed his friend to help him to his feet. He felt heavy, weary, old. His joints creaked and his body groaned from even modest effort, and the coldness of the day only made it worse.
"Are you all right, laddie?" he asked quietly.
"Aye," Legolas answered. "Though I fear I have kept you here overlong; it has grown very cold."
"Don't worry about me," Gimli answered. "I'll be just fine. The question is, how will you be?"
Legolas cocked his head. "What do you mean?"
"How will you be when I am gone?" Gimli asked.
Legolas swallowed a lump that seemed to form instantly in his throat. Years of practice had enabled him to quell tears when he needed to. He knelt before his friend and mustered a smile. "I will be fine, Gimli. I will miss you, very much, but I will be fine."
"Swear it," Gimli replied. "Swear a warrior's oath."
"I swear," Legolas answered softly.
Gimli smiled and nodded, reaching out and squeezing Legolas' shoulder. "Come, let's get out of here, I'm hungry."
"Some roast boar, perhaps?" Legolas asked with a grin.
"Aye! And some ale and a good smoke."
They walked toward the boat and Legolas helped Gimli inside, then he rowed them back to Aman.
From his customary place behind the tree, the Vanya watched them depart. In the months he had watched and listened to them, he had picked up parts of the language they spoke. He knew the dwarf would die soon, and he knew that Legolas was going to suffer much grief as a result. It pained him to see Legolas suffer so, after having endured so much already. Through their conversations, he had learned much about his Sinda. He had learned about the friends Legolas had who had died, the wars and battles Legolas had fought, and the places Legolas had lived in and seen. He saw Legolas not only through his own eyes, but also through those of Gimli, and slowly he began to fall in love with an elf he had never met.
His greatest desire was to heal Legolas' wounded heart, to give him what he needed and what he wanted. But fear held him back. In his own heart, he was confused and conflicted. He was haunted by dreams that seemed more like memories, dreams that teased him with images and sensations, but not with anything more. He had tried drawing the pictures he saw in his mind in order to expel them, yet they remained, and the longer he watched his beloved, the stronger they grew. At times, he felt like he was one body with two spirits: his own and another that had not yet revealed itself fully. The one thing he was certain of was that he would watch over Legolas and never let any harm come to him. That was his one overriding desire, protect and love this Sinda King, even if he did it from afar.
To be continued...
Summary: Legolas says farewell to one friend and greets another.
It was the dawn of a new day, though not a bright one. On the mainland of Aman, sheltered by the Pelóri, the weather changed, yet was never extreme. The island of Tol Eressëa was subject to greater shifts in weather, but neither place was as harsh as Middle-earth. That day, clouds obscured the sun and the sky was a pale gray. The wind blew in from the sea, carrying a chill that did not affect most elves, yet Legolas felt it. The animals had grown winter coats and birds were lining their nests. Legolas was up with the sunrise that day, standing on the balcony of his room in the home he shared with Elladan and Elrohir. Gimli had stayed there the night before, too weary to make the journey back to his own cave.
He gazed upon the pall that had fallen over the bay and knew it would be yet another cold and dreary day on the beach he had traveled to every day since shortly after his arrival. He pulled on his gloves and secured his cloak around his shoulders. This day, he would leave Gimli behind, but he wanted to check on his good friend before he left.
He walked down the hall and rapped softly upon Gimli's door, and when his friend did not answer, he turned the handle and stepped inside. Gimli was abed still, and at first glance, Legolas thought he had passed in the night. However, Gimli heard the door open and slowly turned his head. Legolas knew immediately that the dwarf's time was short. He hurriedly crossed the room and knelt beside his best friend's bed.
He picked up Gimli's small, rough hand and held it between his own. It was cold and limp, so unlike the strong grip he had grown accustomed to in the long years of their friendship. Gimli whispered something and Legolas leaned in to hear it better. Just then, the twins entered the room to check on the dwarf as well.
Legolas turned and looked at Elrohir with a mixture of alarm and resignation on his face. "Galadriel," he said softly. "He is asking for Galadriel."
Elrohir nodded. "I shall fetch her," he answered, and quickly left the room.
Elladan joined Legolas, sitting on the opposite side of the bed from his friend. He smiled at Gimli, and the dwarf took comfort in that reassuring smile.
Gimli was not afraid of dying; rather, he had known his time was coming for quite a while. He did not know what would happen to him once his soul left his form, but he felt it would be a relief after spending so many of his last years in a body that could no longer sustain the strength of his spirit. It was difficult to speak, and he had much to say, so he waited for Galadriel to arrive. He would say farewell to the Lady of Light, say farewell to his friends, Elladan and Elrohir, then say goodbye to Legolas last. He had a feeling he would be seeing those he knew on the other side, and he hoped the first to greet him would be Aragorn.
Galadriel arrived quickly, and Elladan rose and gave his seat to his grandmother. She leaned forward, her hair covering both her and Gimli's face like a golden shroud. They could hear Gimli's words come out in a rasping whisper, heard her soft reply, then watched her give the dwarf a kiss upon his forehead. She rose from the bed and stood by, her hand upon Elladan's shoulder. The twins each said farewell, each taking a hand and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance, and then they left with Galadriel.
Legolas was alone with Gimli. It was getting harder and harder to hold back tears; there was over a century's worth built up inside, threatening to burst forth in a torrent that would drown him. Gimli whispered to him, making Legolas renew his vow to be strong, then he smiled. "He is there, laddie," he whispered. "Keep going to that beach, you will find him."
Legolas smiled, even as the tears began to well in his eyes. "Rest well, my good friend," Legolas replied. "Give my love to Aragorn and Éomer."
"I will, laddie," Gimli answered, then he closed his eyes, a peaceful smile curving his lips even as the last breath left his body.
Legolas shook his head as if the action would undo what had just happened. "No, no, no..." he murmured, over and over. "No more, I can take no more..." He vaguely registered the sound of the door opening and the sound of Elrohir's footsteps. As his good friend placed his arms around his shoulders, he broke down, collapsing against Elrohir's chest and weeping openly.
Elrohir held him tight, his own tears falling freely. "I have you," he said softly as he gently rocked Legolas in his arms. "Do not be afraid, I have you."
Soon, Elrohir, Elladan and Galadriel surrounded Legolas. The three of them stroked his hair, whispered reassurances to him and soothed his aching heart. How long they lingered there, none of them could be sure; then slowly they rose and prepared to burn Gimli's body in the custom of his people.
* * * *
The Vanya lingered in the woods until well past midday, waiting for his Sinda to arrive. Anor was beginning her descent into the western sky and he was about to abandon hope when he saw Legolas' boat crossing the bay. His Sinda was alone and he knew immediately that something was wrong; Legolas and Gimli were never apart. In fact, the sight of Legolas alone confirmed what he had known was close at hand; the dwarf was old and close to death, he knew that. Now, he felt grief radiating out from Legolas as surely as if it came from his own heart. The dwarf had passed. Fear clenched at his heart; he imagined the pain Legolas was in and knew he had to do something to soothe it. But what? What could he do? What could he say to ease his beloved's grief when he was too afraid to even approach him?
He withdrew into the shadows of the trees as the boat approached and tried to gather his courage.
* * * *
"Perhaps we should follow him?" Elladan asked, as unsure of the question as he was of the answer.
"He would be most aggrieved if we did," Elrohir replied, sinking into the over-stuffed chair. "I fear for him, Elladan. He has suffered long; I do not know how much more he can endure. His hair no longer shines, his eyes seem less brilliant - I fear he is fading."
Elladan stood behind his brother's chair, gently kneading the muscles in Elrohir's shoulders. "'Twould be a miracle if he did not. All that meant most to him have been taken from him. Now that Gimli has passed. . ." he sighed. "How many hurts is one supposed to bear?"
Elrohir pulled Elladan's hand to his cheek and pressed his face against it. "We still love him," he whispered.
"But is that enough?" Elladan asked quietly before bending down to press a kiss to the top of his brother's head.
"I do not know," Elrohir answered. "We should have stopped him. We should have kept him here."
"There was no keeping him here, Elrohir. You saw the determination in his eyes," Elladan replied. "All we can do now is pray for him and be here for him when he needs us." He rounded the chair and knelt between Elrohir's legs. "I love you, Elrohir," he said softly.
Elrohir caressed Elladan's cheek and smiled sadly. "I love you, Elladan," he responded quietly. "What would I ever do without you?"
"You will never be without me," Elladan said with a reassuring smile.
"Thank the Valar for that." Elrohir leaned down and kissed Elladan gently on the mouth, then pulled his twin into his lap and held him closely as Anor began to sink beneath the mountains.
* * * *
Legolas sat on the smooth stone as he had done nearly every day since his arrival in Aman. His knees pulled tight to his chest, his arms encircling his legs, he waited. His gaze traveled over the water, over the waves, and his mind traveled back to a place he once loved, to a time when things seemed so much simpler. He was waiting for an answer to a question that had haunted him since before the end of the Ring War. He waited and watched the Sea for the one he had seen in his dreams. That one held the answers to the questions he had, answers that were becoming harder and harder to live without.
A sigh escaped him as he sat motionless. The sun was sinking, casting its glow upon the rippling waves. Soon, the day, and his wait, would end. Gimli's passing had been a final injury in a series of hurts that seemed to overwhelm his life. It was not unexpected; Gimli had lived long past the time that a dwarf normally lived. But now that his friend was gone, there were only two left: him and Mithrandir. They were the only two living members of the Fellowship.
He looked to the place in the sand where Gimli had often sat with him; his friend faithfully followed him until his aged body would no longer allow it. Just a day ago, Gimli had sat on the sand, his pipe in his hand as he offered his silent support. A tear fell from Legolas' eye as he recalled his good and loyal friend, a friend so loyal that he had left all that he knew behind to sail to a land he had never seen. Legolas knew that many wondered why Gimli did it. Some said the dwarf never lost his sense of adventure, and perhaps that was true, but Legolas knew why Gimli had left Middle-earth, never to return. Gimli had done it for him.
As Anor set and Ithil took her place, Legolas rose from his position on the rock as he had done for time uncounted. "Where are you!" he shouted to the empty beach. "Why have you not come?" His voice dropped to a whisper. Instead of walking back to the boat, he began to remove his clothes. "I am tired of waiting," he spoke to the empty beach. "I can wait no more."
He folded his cloak, tunic and leggings, placing them in a neat pile beside the rock with his shoes. He then took a deep breath and simply began to walk toward the water.
Unbeknownst to him, he had not been alone, for the elf who lived upon the beach had been watching him that day as he had so many days before. The Vanya slowly stood as the Sinda King waded into the water and watched as the water rose past his knees, his waist, and his shoulders. He removed his shoes as the Sinda's head disappeared beneath the water, and then furiously pulled off his tunic and leggings as the mane of flaxen hair began to sink.
Charging into the surf, the younger elf dove beneath the waves and did not reemerge until his task was done. He waded out of the water, carrying the cold and limp form of the one he had been watching those many days. Snatching up Legolas' cloak, he wrapped him in it and then carried his beloved into the wood.
* * * *
Legolas awoke in a strange place. His hair was damp and he was naked. The first sensation he felt was warmth, and he instinctively burrowed back against it as he felt a tremor race through his waking body. As his vision returned, he saw a fire burning in a hearth, and his eyes took in a dimly lit room he had never seen before. As he stirred, he heard a deep voice that sounded familiar, and yet he could not place it. The voice said, "Stay with me, Legolas."
It was then that he felt the nearly naked form of a male elf behind him. Two strong arms were wrapped around him and one long, muscular leg was draped over both his own. He remembered wading into the water and sinking. He remembered the piercing pain, like hundreds of daggers driving into his chest as he breathed in the cold water in place of air. Then he remembered hands clasping his arms, arms encircling his body, and the cold winter air filling his lungs as he coughed out the water. He vaguely remembered being wrapped in a cloak and lifted, and then he could remember no more.
Slowly he turned in the embrace of this elf who had saved his life, and when his eyes beheld his savior, he stifled a small gasp. The elf was asleep and mumbled softly as he felt his charge move. Legolas gazed at him in wonder; only once had he beheld one so beautiful to his eyes. A thick mane of golden hair crowned his head, it was a color he had seen only twice before. This elf's hair was the same color as Galadriel's and Glorfindel's, which meant he had to be of at least partial Vanyarin blood. His lips were full and soft, his face smooth and flawless as one who was either young or unaffected by the aging of the earth. His body was that of a warrior's, powerfully built yet lean, a model of strength and efficiency. Yet, he had no knowledge of warriors in Aman; since the fall of Morgoth and his slave Sauron, the Elves of Valinor had no need of defenses.
Legolas studied his rescuer as thoroughly as he could, given his circumstances. He found it odd that he was not in the least bit uncomfortable or self-conscious in his state of undress, despite the fact that he lay in a stranger's arms, in the stranger's bed. His savior was himself scantily clad, wearing only a loincloth. Since he recalled being cold, a state not common for an elf, he could only surmise that his rescuer was trying to warm him with his own body heat.
Legolas could not explain why he did what he did next, nor what prompted him to do such a thing, but he reached out slowly and touched his fingertips to the elf's lips. A shiver ran through him as this beauteous creature sighed, a sound so deep and musical that it caused an answering sigh of his own. The stranger's eyelids began to flutter and the hand that rested on the middle of Legolas' back slid lower. Legolas did not resist as he was pulled closer, the elf's fingers splaying wide as they dipped into the hollow of his lower back. When the elf's eyes opened, Legolas felt his heart stop. Eyes as blue as the summer sky gazed back at him and held him in thrall; they were the eyes he had been searching for.
"I know you," he whispered. A smile curved his lips. "I have been waiting for you..." he said, and then he reached for his savior with his mouth.
The first kiss was electric, sending waves of heat and passion through him that he had never felt before. Immediately he opened his mouth, entreating the stranger's tongue to enter. He moaned desperately into the kiss as he arched into his savior's arms, molding himself to the elf's body.
No further words were spoken. They communicated by touch as their bodies joined. Legolas felt truly alive for the first time in his life. Pain, loneliness, despair began to fall away as they made love. It was not the rushed, heated grappling of wanton lovers, but the slow, gentle lovemaking of two who were meant for one another. How could this elf whom he had never met know how to touch him, where to kiss him to inflame him beyond bearing? Immediately, Legolas gave himself to this stranger whose name he did not know. What was the knowing of a name compared to the knowing of a heart? Each touch, each caress, each kiss healed him as nothing had before.
He wanted to say the words that would seal the bond he felt building between them. Yet, he could not find his voice beyond the moans and sighs that seemed to have their own will. He wrapped his legs around the elf's waist, pressing his body to him, reveling in each caress, each touch, each magical and wonderful kiss. This elf kissed him like one who loved him, held him like one who worshipped him. This elf made him whole again.
He thrust into the elf's strong hand, a heartbreaking cry escaping his lips as his seed spilled forth. The long years of loneliness had taken their toll on him, and he slipped into a deep sleep, holding tightly to the one who had saved his life in more ways than one.
"Rest, my beloved Greenleaf," the elf whispered to him, and Legolas drifted into reverie as a tear of joy fell from his eye.
To be continued...
Summary: Legolas finds the one he has been searching for.
Legolas awoke, blinking to adjust his eyes to the light. Morning had come and he was still in the stranger's bed. He sat up slowly, rubbing his face as he struggled to shake off the last vestiges of reverie. The smell of cinnamon and honey greeted his nose, and as he looked down at the foot of the bed, he found a robe. He rose slowly, pulling on the robe and venturing over to the table in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of tea and picked up a warm slice of cinnamon bread. Drizzling honey over it, he then took a bite and uttered a small moan of satisfaction. He stood in the stranger's kitchen and looked around the small, but homey abode.
The house consisted of one large room with a bathing closet off to one side. The furniture was simple and elegantly carved from trees that grew upon the island. Large, paned windows were on every wall, and in the center of the room was the bed they had slept in. A large fireplace served as both a source of warmth and a place to cook, and a large, iron pot sat on the hearth beside the firebox. Wood was neatly stacked in a carved box next to the hearth, and a large, overstuffed chair sat in front of the fireplace. It was small compared to the twins' home, but it felt comfortable.
The stranger was nowhere to be found, and Legolas ventured out the front door onto a large porch. In one corner was a swing, suspended from the porch roof by four chains, in the other corner was a long bench that reminded him of the ones that used to be in Elrond's garden. The house was surrounded on three sides by a thick grove of trees, and on the west side was a garden filled with winter vegetables. Legolas smiled as deer gazed at him from the trees, their nostrils flaring as they watched the strange elf standing on the porch.
He took a deep breath, taking in the cold, crisp air that smelled of pine and cedar and that reminded him of home. He then returned to the kitchen and sipped his tea by the fire. He was still feeling a bit tired and chilled; it would take a little while to recover from so many years of weariness, he supposed. He finished his tea then returned to the bed, pulling the thick blankets up around his chin and settling in against the soft pillows. Smiling, he thought he could he live in this quaint, comfortable home nestled in amongst the tall trees. Soon his eyes began to drift closed and he slipped into reverie once more.
The Vanya returned from his morning swim; he was a bit behind schedule this day as he was loath to leave his beloved in bed. It had been the first restful night he had spent, holding Legolas in his arms. It was as though this was how things were meant to be all along and that was why his life thus far had felt so out of sorts. He stood by the fire, drying his hair with a thick cloth and watching his beloved Greenleaf in his slumber. How was it possible that he could love this elf so deeply, so profoundly, when they had only just met the night before? How was it possible that he could know with such certainty that his life's purpose was to love and protect this elf who was thousands of years his senior?
Legolas. The Sinda's name rolled off his tongue as if he had been saying it all his life. Greenleaf. Yes, that was the name his beloved preferred to be called by him, though how he knew that he did not know. How had he known that a gentle suckling of the point of Legolas' right ear would give his lover such pleasure? Of course, all elves found that action to be pleasing, but for Legolas, for his Greenleaf, he knew that it would be ever more so. How had he known to find that spot beneath his lover's jaw, or that Legolas' right nipple was more sensitive than his left, or that his Sinda liked it when he squeezed and kneaded his buttocks? He was no novice in bed, yet he had not had many lovers. So how was it that he knew exactly what to do and how to do it to give Legolas so much pleasure?
Half of the slices of cinnamon bread were gone, as was a good portion of the honey. The pot was light, so his beloved had liked the chamomile tea he had prepared. The Vanya hung a small iron pot over the flames and warmed more water before pouring the last of the tea into a cup for himself. The heat of the fire warmed his flesh after his brisk swim, and he hung the towel on a peg near the fireplace to dry. Clouds were moving in and rain would soon be falling, bringing life-giving moisture and nutrients to the plants and trees that made up his island home.
He closed the door and latched it as the wind began to increase, then stoked the fire after removing the pot and preparing more tea. Rain began to fall, gently pattering against the wooden shingles of his roof, and he moved toward the bed, tossing his robe upon the foot as he slid beneath the covers. Legolas smiled and rolled into his arms, his beloved's long fingers leisurely exploring his body. The Vanya's body responded immediately, arching and slowly undulating beneath his lover's touch. He brushed his lips against Legolas' forehead and smiled as his lover opened his eyes.
He caressed Legolas' face, brushing his hair back behind his ears. "Did you sleep well, my love?" he asked softly.
Legolas rose up on his elbows and cocked his head. "You are Vanyarin," he said quietly.
The Vanya began speaking in Sindarin. "Yes. Do you understand my native tongue?"
Legolas nodded. "Aye, I am getting used to speaking it again. I learned it when I was young." He caressed the Vanya's face. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, and leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss upon his lover's lips. The Vanya moaned deeply, a sound that called to Legolas on a most profound and carnal level. His body responded immediately as he pressed against his lover, the evidence of his state of arousal pressing against the Vanya's thigh. "I slept very well," he murmured against his lover's lips. "Better than I have in many, many years."
"I am glad," his lover responded in a deep whisper, nuzzling his mouth in response. "I want to please you," he continued.
"Oh, you do, more than you know," Legolas answered as he took his lover's mouth in a deep kiss again.
The Vanya pulled Legolas on top of him, parting his legs so that his Sinda could rest between his thighs. He yielded to Legolas' thorough perusal of his mouth, deep moans echoing between them as he arched and moved against his beloved. "I love you," he found himself saying, hearing the words as if it was someone else who had spoken them.
"I love you, as well," Legolas answered. "I have loved you all my life..." He made his way from the Vanya's mouth to his chest, gently suckling a nipple until it was engorged and hot beneath his lips. He explored his lover's muscular chest, his hands roaming, fingers exploring as his mouth continued to suckle and nip the pebbled nipples. His lover arched beneath him; he could feel the Vanya's length swelling and rolling between their bodies. They were perfectly matched, each knowing exactly what to do to the other to give the most pleasure.
The Vanya groaned as Legolas took him into his mouth, his hands wadding in a mass of flaxen hair that seemed to grow thicker and more brilliant by the moment. It was like living silk that cascaded down the Sinda's back, past lean, muscular buttocks, covering both Legolas' back and his own thighs. He felt his body tighten, felt his heart swelling with love, and then he felt as if he was falling and he heard a voice that was his, but was not, whisper, "Greenleaf..." He came with a cry, spilling down Legolas' throat, then trembling as his beloved cleaned him with his tongue.
He continued to tremble as Legolas made his way back up his body to his mouth, then kissed him deeply and held his lover close to his chest. He slowly opened his eyes and met Legolas' deep azure gaze.
"What is your name?" Legolas asked softly.
The Vanya smiled. "Síreranu," he replied.
"Wandering river," Legolas murmured. "It is a beautiful name."
"I was conceived near a river outside the village where my parents lived on the mainland. As an elfling, I would often wander through the woods and be found playing near that same river. So, my parents named me Síreranu."
Legolas thought back to the story Thranduil had told him about how he was given his name. This elf had to be his father reincarnated, he had but to look in the Vanya's eyes to see his father gazing back at him. Even their names were similar: wandering river and river shield. It had to be him. He felt it.
Legolas was rolled to his back and covered with Síreranu's form, and he wrapped his long arms around his lover. Whether this Vanya knew the origins of his own spirit was unknown to Legolas. He wanted to speak to Síreranu, to find out how much he remembered, but was unsure as to how to proceed. Soon, all coherent thought left him and all he could do was respond as his beloved played his body like a lyre. He sighed and moaned as he was kissed and touched. This Vanya was an amazing lover, so attuned to his every desire. He groaned deeply as Síreranu took him in his mouth, and he surrendered to an overwhelming flood of love and desire. He allowed himself to be loved and to love in return, and the pain he had carried for so long finally disappeared.
They lay in one another's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal as they listened to the rain falling outside.
"I am sorry," Síreranu said quietly.
Legolas rose up and looked at his lover. "For what?"
"I am sorry I did not come to you sooner, and I am sorry that you have lost your friend."
"But you did come to me, and you came when I needed you most. You are here now, that is all that matters," Legolas answered. "As for Gimli, while I will miss him greatly, he lived a full life and died content." He cocked his head. "How old are you?" he asked quietly.
"I am one hundred and twenty two years old, this past summer. Why?" Síreranu asked.
Síreranu was born just after his father died. Was it yet another coincidence, or was it more proof? "I have much to learn about you," Legolas answered. "And I want to know it all."
"I know much about you already," Síreranu replied. "I spent many days listening to you and your friend talk about your days in the Hither-lands."
"You were there? All that time?"
Síreranu closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "I am sorry; but I was afraid, and I did not know it was me you sought; at least I did not know until you said so last night."
Legolas caressed his lover's face. "What were you afraid of?"
"I do not know, not really."
"Tell me," Legolas replied softly. "You can trust me."
"I know I can, though how I know this, I cannot be sure." Síreranu rose from the bed and retrieved a leather-bound book, handing it to Legolas. "I have heard stories about the land you ruled in the Hither-lands. Mirkwood, it was called?"
Legolas opened the book. "Aye, though my father and Lord Celeborn renamed it Eryn Lasgalen after the ending of the war."
"I have had this book for years. I started drawing in it just before I reached my majority, and that was long before I began hearing stories of the Hither-lands from those who sailed from there."
Legolas' fingers trembled slightly as he turned the pages in the book. Page after page, each filled with drawings, most done with charcoal. The drawings became more refined, more detailed as the artist's skill increased. There were pictures of caves, tall trees, a bridge, a river, sketches of blackberry brambles and deer, drawings of archers clad in tan and pale blue, the colors of his Silvan kindred. There were pictures of mountains, of spiders, of black squirrels, and pictures of orcs. There was a picture of him, sitting astride his copper mare that he trained when he was a youth, smiling broadly. Yet, there was not one picture of his father; there were only pictures of what his father would have seen. The last page contained a picture of Lórien, there was no mistaking the mellryn, which grew nowhere else. The image included elves who could only be Galadriel and Celeborn, along with Haldir and Orophin. The largest image was that of Rúmil.
He was beginning to tremble, though he tried to hide it. The proof lay in his hands, yet Síreranu did not seem to understand it. He looked at his beloved. "Where? How?"
"Do you know these faces, these places? They come from my dreams," Síreranu answered.
"It looks like...like, my home," Legolas whispered.
"I cannot understand how I could have dreams of a place I have never seen, of elves I have never seen. The day you arrived, I saw this one." He pointed at Rúmil. "I recognized him, though I could not say why, because I know we have never met. I was able to slip away before he could see through my ruse."
Legolas could see the confusion in his lover's eyes. While Síreranu needed answers to these questions, somehow Legolas knew that now was not the time and he was not the one to provide them. He closed the book and placed it on the table beside the bed, then turned and shifted, settling upon Síreranu's lap. "We will find one who can answer these questions, I promise you. Until then, I will try to ease your discomfort." He began placing soft kisses upon Síreranu's face. His lover smiled against his lips and then felt Síreranu's hands upon his thighs. Laughing, Legolas was pulled closer and wrapped his legs around his beloved's hips. "I have greatly needed this," he murmured.
"So have I," Síreranu replied as he nibbled the sensitive flesh beneath Legolas' jaw.
"Oh, I like that..." Legolas replied breathlessly.
"I know," Síreranu answered as he laid back and pulled Legolas with him.
To be continued...
Summary: The twins prepare to send out a search party when Legolas returns.
Elrohir paced the floor, nervously tugging at the hem of his tunic. Rain was falling hard outside now, and the inevitable thoughts of Legolas lying somewhere half dead kept flooding his mind. "He has always returned at night," he murmured. "It has been over a day now."
Elladan watched his twin pacing back and forth. "We will search for him as soon as Anor rises." He tried to assuage Elrohir's fears, but that was hard to do when he had his own. Elrohir was right, Legolas had always returned, but he had not done so since Gimli's death. The afternoon of Gimli's funeral, late in the day, the Sinda had simply walked away without a word to anyone. Elladan's instinct, and Elrohir's instinct, had been to follow Legolas, to make sure that their friend would be all right after this latest blow. Galadriel had stayed them, counseling them that Legolas would need time alone. Glorfindel and Erestor had agreed, as had the twins' parents, so they heeded that advice and let Legolas leave. Now Elladan wondered if that had been the right decision. Reaching out, he grasped Elrohir's wrist and pulled him toward the bed. Elrohir sank down beside him and leaned against him, and he pressed a kiss to his younger brother's head. "It will be all right, Elrohir, I promise," he murmured.
Elrohir wrapped his arms around Elladan's waist. His elder twin had been so patient with him for so long, and he continued to be even now. He knew Elladan loved Legolas, but he also knew that the bond between them was nothing more than friendship now, as it had been for many years. He had not been able to let go so easily himself; instead, he clung to the hope that somehow the three of them would find a way to share their love on a more intimate level. He supposed he knew deep down that it could never be, for the love among the three of them could never be truly equal. Legolas would never see into their hearts and minds the way they saw into one another's; in addition, their friend's heart had belonged to another from the very beginning.
Elrohir curled against Elladan as his elder twin lay down on the bed, and he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to find rest that night.
* * * *
Ithil's light illuminated the bedroom of Síreranu's room, casting a pale, silver glow upon the floor and the bed. Legolas lay on his stomach, his arms folded beneath his head and his legs slightly spread apart. Síreranu sat upon the tops of his thighs, kneading the muscles in his shoulders and back, drawing his hands down the length of his spine in slow, warming strokes. Legolas could feel his lover's hands gliding through the oil, working life back into his long neglected body. Many years ago, when he was not yet of majority, he remembered falling off his mare when he had asked too much of her in training. He had ached from head to toe, and nothing the healers did had made a difference. It had been his father's hands that healed him, gently kneading the bruised muscles and removing the stiffness, just as Síreranu did now. His father's touch had contained no sensuality, nor did it contain any special healing qualities beyond that of a father's love and tenderness for his son; this encounter, however, was one lover awakening another, and Legolas' body responded in turn.
He moved gently against Síreranu's slow, sensual touch, arching and bowing, pressing into hands that seemed to know how to touch him perfectly. "I must return in the morning," he murmured, his voice almost swallowed by the pillow.
"Your friends, Elladan and Elrohir, they will be worried about you, yes?"
"Yes. I have been living with them and have faithfully returned each night. This will make the second night that I have not returned. Given that I left after the funeral, I am sure they suspect the worst."
"They were nearly right," Síreranu answered softly.
Legolas closed his eyes. It was shame he felt, because of his weakness. "I was so tired," he said quietly.
"There is no need to explain," Síreranu replied. "I felt your pain. I was weak, or I would have approached you sooner." He leaned forward and nuzzled his lover's ear. "Had I been braver, we would have been making love these many months instead of you waiting and me watching."
"I love you," Legolas whispered.
"And I love you, my Greenleaf," Síreranu replied.
"I love it when you call me that," Legolas answered in a deep whisper.
"I know," Síreranu answered.
"The only other one I have ever wholly loved used to call me that."
"Who was that?" Síreranu asked.
"My father," Legolas whispered.
Síreranu furrowed his brow, but did not pause in his ministrations. "You loved him very much, no?"
"I did. He was my best friend, my mentor, my father and my king." Legolas withheld the most important part of his love for Thranduil, for fear that his lover would not understand.
"I am sure he loved you equally."
Legolas sighed. "He did and he still does."
"Have you found him? Has he been reborn?"
"I am not sure, not yet..." Legolas whispered. Shifting beneath his lover, he rolled to his back as Síreranu rose to his knees. "Make love to me," Legolas said softly as he reached out for his beloved.
"With pleasure," Síreranu answered as he covered Legolas' form with his own.
* * * *
"Where have you been!" Elrohir shouted at Legolas as he came through the doorway.
Elladan dropped his pack on the floor and glowered at the Sinda. "You arrived just in time to save us the trouble of searching for you."
Legolas schooled his expression into one of penitence, something he had not needed to do since he was young. It was hard to conceal the joy he felt, though he was sure Elrohir would sense it once the twin's anger faded. "I am sorry," Legolas murmured as he focused on the tips of his boots.
Soon Elladan and Elrohir embraced him and he heard Elrohir's deep voice in his ear, "You nearly frightened me to death..."
He squeezed Elrohir tighter. "I am so sorry; please forgive me."
"It is hard to know exactly what to do," Elladan replied. "Part of me wants to throttle you, part of me wants to hang on to you and not let go."
"Are you all right?" Elrohir asked as he slowly relinquished his hold on Legolas.
Legolas nodded as the twins stepped back and looked him over. "Aye. I just could not bear the thought of hearing condolences ever again," he said quietly.
Elladan nodded, remembering all too well when he reached that same place after his mother had been attacked. "You look different," he said softly.
Elrohir reached out and ran his fingers through Legolas' waist-long flaxen hair. "You do look different, your hair is shining again." He touched Legolas' cheek. "Your skin is soft and warm again..."
Elladan smiled. "And your eyes, I see that spark that I have missed these many years. You have found him, have you not?"
Legolas penitent expression changed into one of utter joy. "I do believe I have," he answered with a broad grin. "Though I cannot be sure. The one I have found has no memory of once being my father."
Elladan furrowed his brow. "Did you voice your suspicions?"
Legolas shook his head. "No. I felt that it would be too much of a shock considering we had spent the better part of a day..." his voice trailed off as he smiled.
Elladan grinned broadly and nodded. "Say no more. You saw it in his eyes, yes?"
"I did, though I want you to see him too, to confirm it. But every bone in my body, all my instincts tell me it is him," Legolas replied.
Elrohir crossed his arms over his chest. "There is one problem with this," he began.
Legolas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?"
"How is he going to react when he learns of the origins of his spirit, knowing you had foreknowledge of who he is and made love to him anyway?" Elrohir queried. "If he does not remember fully, then this could be the cause of great concern to him. If he cannot accept it..."
Legolas frowned. "He loves me, Elrohir. He will accept it, just as I did when I first realized it."
"Yes, but with that realization came great pain..." Elrohir began.
"Only because he was my father then," Legolas interrupted. "My father's spirit resides in his form, but he is his own self; he has his own life, his own memories. He is more than just my father."
Elrohir sighed as Elladan placed his hand upon Legolas' shoulder. "Perhaps you should seek counsel as to how best to proceed," the elder twin responded.
Legolas nodded. "I will speak with Glorfindel upon the morrow."
Elladan squeezed Legolas' shoulder. "He should be able to offer some sage advice."
Legolas looked back at Elrohir. "Please say you are happy for me, Elrohir. It means so much to me that you share in my happiness."
Elrohir gathered Legolas into his arms. "I am happy for you," he answered softly. "I just want you to be careful; I do not wish to see you hurt again."
"I will not be," Legolas answered as he squeezed Elrohir. "Thank you, both of you, for everything you have done for me."
"We love you," Elladan murmured as he leaned his head against Elrohir's.
"And I love both of you, you are dear friends to me," Legolas answered.
"Come," Elladan said quietly. "Tell us where you have been and what has happened these last two days."
The three friends adjourned to the veranda where Legolas told his tale.
To be continued...
Author's Notes: Many thanks to Claudio's Quenya name generator on the Elf Fetish website for "Síreranu", hopefully I didn't mess up in the construction.
Summary: Legolas seeks Glorfindel's council.
Legolas walked up the long, twisting path toward the home that Glorfindel and Erestor had built. He smiled as he looked at the flagstones set in the soil, surrounded by tiny white and yellow flowers. The fact that Erestor had turned into such a domestic was an endless source of both fascination and amusement to him; many years ago, he never would have guessed that the serious and often cantankerous Chief Advisor to Master Elrond would be so content with simple delights such as gardening. "No wonder he got on so famously with Samwise," Legolas murmured to himself.
"Legolas!"
He heard his name and looked up to see a shirtless Glorfindel waving at him from the back of a blue roan. The horse looked young and still a bit awkward, so he surmised it must have been getting one of its first lessons in carrying a rider. He raised his hand in return, and then watched in both surprise and amusement as the horse reared and Glorfindel slid off its back to be deposited in the tall grass. The source of the horse's fright was soon revealed as Legolas heard the echoing bellow of a horn and the answering bray of hounds. He turned quickly to see none other than Oromë himself charging through the fields on his great white stallion, Nahar, followed by a pack of the largest hounds he had ever seen.
The Vala was breathtaking, wholly different from Elves, though they shared similar traits such as long hair and pointed ears. Oromë's hair was a color that defied explanation, seeming at one moment to be white, at others to be golden as the sun as it cascaded down his back in thick, wild waves. He was tall, impressive in stature, with piercing eyes that harkened to the great Eagles, and a strong jaw. Handsome was a word that did not do him justice; all who looked upon Oromë were stunned into silence. All except Glorfindel, of course.
Oromë stopped, leaning down and offering Glorfindel a hand as he made his apologies. Legolas could not help but notice the smile on the Vala's lips as Glorfindel chuckled and shook his head, then dusted off his breeches. This was a game they played regularly, Legolas surmised. Oromë then turned, nodded and smiled at Legolas, then galloped off into the trees.
"Does that happen often?" Legolas asked as he accepted Glorfindel's proffered hand.
"Oh, only every fortnight or so, I suppose," Glorfindel answered with a grin, shaking Legolas' hand. "It took Erestor years to grow accustomed to it, despite the fact that we lived not too far from here when we were young. I think he has cursed every one of the Valar under his breath since we have been here, though we both know, as do they, that he does not mean it."
"He is most impressive, the first one of the Valar I have seen since I have been here," Legolas returned.
"And most likely the only one you will see, as the others prefer to stay in their respective homes. Oromë's home is all the fields of Aman, so he wanders often." Glorfindel smiled broadly. "You are looking well, my friend; life in the Undying Lands agrees with you, yes?"
Legolas could not suppress the smile that curved his lips. "Recently, yes."
Glorfindel motioned toward the house with a nod of his head. "Come, Erestor will be delighted to see you." He whistled to his young mare, which had trotted some distance away to give Nahar and the following hounds a wide berth. The mare nickered and began following her master at a brisk walk. "You are staying to share the evening meal with us, of course; Erestor always makes enough food to feed an army."
Legolas laughed. "Of course; I could never pass up the opportunity to see Erestor in his element."
Glorfindel smiled as he placed his hand upon Legolas' back. "In all seriousness, how are you my friend?"
Legolas' smile faded somewhat. "I miss Gimli terribly, but I am glad he died in peace."
Glorfindel nodded. "It is difficult when those we love go where we cannot follow."
"Aye," Legolas answered. "But I have the feeling he is in good company."
Glorfindel smiled. "Aye, very good company."
"Legolas Thranduilion, what a pleasure to see you!"
Legolas looked up to see Erestor wiping his hands on an apron tied around his waist. The one-time Councilor stood upon the wide veranda of the stately country home, his hair tied in a simple ponytail and his shirt open at the neck. Legolas had to admit, there was something very alluring about this more relaxed, casual Erestor. He could see why Glorfindel had been so hopelessly attracted to him for so long.
Glorfindel mounted the steps to their home and took Erestor into his arms, placing a sound and lingering kiss upon his mate's lips. Erestor smiled as Glorfindel released him, then began dusting the blades of grass off his mate's backside.
"I see Oromë has been for a visit again," Erestor remarked.
Glorfindel winked at Legolas, then answered his mate, "Aye, did you not hear the horn?"
"Oh, I heard it. How could anyone not hear it? Considering that there are no men or yrch here with less than perfect hearing, one would think that he would have a quieter horn. What does he need the horn for anyway? Are his hounds hard of hearing?"
Glorfindel laughed and shook his head. "Come, my cantankerous beloved, let us show our guest the house."
Legolas chuckled as he climbed the stairs and embraced Erestor. "'Tis good to see you, Erestor."
Erestor gave Legolas a squeeze. "Good to see you as well, my friend."
Legolas looked around at the home Erestor and Glorfindel had built together; it was a reflection of their distinct and different tastes blended together to create a warm, elegant and welcoming atmosphere. Amongst the hand-woven tapestries and shelves of books that rose high above the floor, there were displays of armaments from Glorfindel's many years as a warrior. A replica of the armor he wore in Gondolin hung upon a stand in one corner; above it was a reproduction of the banner of his house. Nearby was a large desk with maps of Beleriand and Middle-earth, and the banner for the House of Elrond hung over the mantle. There was the standard of Gil-galad, a tapestry depicting Lindon and one of Imladris. Their whole lives were represented on the walls and in the books and maps that populated the space. One could not help but feel the history these two Eldar had seen.
The fireplace was enormous, as was the room itself. The main room was nearly as large as the Hall of Fire, with vaulted ceilings that reached the second floor. A gently arching staircase led to the bedchambers, and there was a bathing closet off the entryway. On the opposite side of the staircase from the main room was Erestor's office, which had glass paned doors that led out to a stone patio. Legolas stepped through the doorway that led from the great room into the expansive kitchen, complete with a large table in the center of the room, upon which Erestor prepared their meals. Pots hung from racks suspended from the ceiling, and a great stove stood in the corner and was vented out the wall. A large pot was simmering upon the stovetop, and Legolas could smell herbs and garlic along with vegetables. A pheasant was roasting in a clay pot inside the large brick oven built into the wall. It was a kitchen built for a master chef, something Erestor had wanted for as long as he could remember.
Legolas pulled up a stool and sat at the large table as Glorfindel stepped through an oak door that led to the wine cellar. Erestor smiled as he placed a glass of wine in front of Legolas, then picked up his own and took a sip. "How are you, Legolas?"
"I am well," Legolas answered. "I still miss Gimli, but I am coming to terms with his absence."
Erestor nodded. "I understand; I miss the Halflings as well. They were often guests at our home; Samwise loved to work in my garden."
Legolas offered a smile of understanding, and then plucked a slice of warm bread from a basket in front of him. He selected a slice of cheese from the tray that Erestor slid over.
"You look well," Erestor said quietly as he observed Legolas. "Something has changed, has it not?"
Legolas smiled and nodded, setting his glass of wine upon the table. "Aye. I think I have found him, Erestor."
"What?" Glorfindel stepped back into the room as Legolas made his announcement. "Where?"
"On Tol Eressëa, where Gimli and I have been waiting. Gimli told me not to stop going, he told me that he would come. My friend was right."
Erestor took the bottle of wine from Glorfindel's hand and opened it as his mate sat down next to Legolas.
"Only he does not look as he did before. I believe my father's spirit is embodied in the form of a Vanya."
Glorfindel frowned as he listened to Legolas' tale of wading into the water and being rescued by this mysterious Vanya. While Legolas did not relay the details of the experience, Glorfindel guessed that more had transpired. He had no proof of Legolas' feelings for Thranduil, but he had often suspected that they were deeper than what a son feels for a father. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke.
"Most often, those who return from Mandos' Halls are brought back in a form that is most like what they remember. Their original bodies are left behind; in your father's case, burned, as was the custom of your people. However, the form given comes from the memories of the spirit, and they return whole. In other words, it is more of a reawakening than a rebirth, as they enter this land in adult form. This body is not the body I was born with, but it is what I remember from before my death. In my second lifetime, I was not an elfling, but I awoke and re-entered Middle-earth with this body. What you describe is different. This elf was conceived, born and raised with a family. He has a life that is his own, yet he carries your father's memories."
Legolas frowned. "Why would it be different?"
Glorfindel shook his head. "I do not know. While I have experienced rebirth, the reasons and methods of Mandos are not for me to know fully. If this is indeed your father, reborn, then you must tread carefully, Legolas. He is already struggling with memories he does not understand. While helping him to understand them will bring some peace, to hear that he is not who he thought he was his entire life will be a shock."
Legolas nodded and swallowed his wine. "I understand. My initial instincts were correct then, to refrain from speaking of my suspicions?"
Erestor nodded. "Aye. We must be sure before you tell him what you know, Legolas. What if you are wrong?"
"I am not wrong. I know with every fiber of my being that Síreranu's eyes are my father's eyes, that his dreams are my father's memories." He sighed. "How can we get proof?"
Erestor and Glorfindel looked at one another for a moment, then Erestor continued. "Take him to see Galadriel. She will know, she can see inside what others cannot."
"Of course!" Legolas answered. "The Lady will know. She was with him when he died, she has seen into his heart and his spirit. She will know him."
"And she will not be influenced by her own desires," Glorfindel added. "You have waited for him for a long time, Legolas. We must be sure that you are not seeing what you want to see. Síreranu's happiness is at stake."
Legolas nodded. "You are right, Glorfindel. As much as I want this to be true, I could never hurt Síreranu, not after what he has done for me."
"I hope it is him," Erestor said softly. "You deserve to find him again, and I know he would want to find you. Never has a father loved his son more or been more proud."
Legolas smiled and reached across the table, squeezing Erestor's hand. "Thank you, Erestor."
Erestor smiled in return and bowed his head, then turned and attended to their meal.
To be continued...
Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel reflect on Legolas' visit. Legolas returns to Tol Eressëa.
Erestor sat at the dressing table, slowly drawing a brush through his hair. His thoughts were occupied by the conversation they shared with Legolas, and something he had been reluctant to say was nagging at him. In the mirror, he saw Glorfindel removing his robe. He watched the slow rippling of muscles in his beloved's back, admired how Glorfindel's skin danced over the taut curves of his body. He could not imagine being deprived of Glorfindel's love, nor could he imagine the profound pain and heartbreak he would experience should something happen to his lion.
"I love you," he said as he turned and faced his mate.
Glorfindel smiled and tossed the robe upon a chair, striding toward him, resplendent in his nakedness. Erestor watched as Glorfindel turned his chair, then gracefully sank to his knees in front of him, placing his strong hands upon his thighs. Erestor reached out, caressing Glorfindel's cheek, his thumb brushing over his mate's cheekbone.
"I love you, my raven," Glorfindel answered in his deep, honeyed voice.
"'Tis a wonder he survived it," Erestor said softly. "I never would have..."
Glorfindel cocked his head. "So you share my suspicions then?"
Erestor nodded. "I do. 'Tis one thing for a son to grieve his father; that is something that is natural and part of the chain of life. But the grief that nearly took Legolas, that aged him so, that was no son's grief."
"And did you see how beautiful he was this night? How his hair shone as it once did long ago, how his eyes sparkled in the candlelight? He has been reborn as well, in spirit if not in form."
"I know the love he feels, Glorfindel, and I can only imagine the heartache he has suffered these many, many years."
"Perhaps that is why Thranduil's spirit was returned in another's form, so that they can finally share the love they have both felt without the confusion that would have come otherwise," Glorfindel replied.
"Galadriel will know if it is him. I suspect she has known about their love all this time; there are few things she does not see."
Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Erestor's waist and leaned his head against his mate's chest. "I hope this brings both of them peace, the Valar know that Legolas deserves it." Glorfindel closed his eyes as Erestor stroked his hair. "I would not survive it either, my love. I cannot, I will not, live without you."
Erestor bent down and placed a kiss upon the crown of Glorfindel's head. "You won't have to, my lion."
Erestor closed his eyes as Glorfindel opened his robe. The feel of his beloved's hands upon his skin was what he lived for. His head fell back as Glorfindel's hands roamed his chest and abdomen, and soft moans began to issue from his lips as his lion's mouth gently found his right nipple. He opened his legs wider, slipping down in the chair slightly as he wadded his fists in Glorfindel's mass of golden hair. "I love you," he murmured over and over, as Glorfindel worked his body into a heightened state of arousal.
"I never grow tired of the way you taste," Glorfindel purred as he laved Erestor's nipple with his tongue. "Nor do I tire of how you respond to my touch."
"That feels so good," Erestor replied breathlessly as he arched into his lover's mouth. He undulated and moaned as Glorfindel's mouth moved lower, finally settling into his lap and teasing his turgid arousal with his tongue. Erestor groaned as Glorfindel engulfed him; surrounded by wet heat, he slowly began rocking his hips forward as his grip tightened on his mate's hair. Glorfindel moaned deeply, sending vibrations along his length as he bent his knees, draping them over his lion's shoulders. "Yes," he murmured as he rolled his hips back and forth, thrusting shallowly into Glorfindel's wet embrace. He could feel Glorfindel's fingers tighten on his hips as the strokes increased and he began rocking deeper and faster. Locking his ankles together, he whimpered as his lover's fingers breached his body, and his head fell back to rest on the top of the chair as he surrendered himself completely.
His moans intensified as Glorfindel relentlessly stroked that place inside him that turned his blood to fire, and he cried out as he spilled himself down Glorfindel's throat. He trembled as Glorfindel licked him clean before moving his mouth to his entrance. As Glorfindel's tongue entered him, he began to beg, "Please, for Elbereth's sake, Glorfindel..." A nip to the tender skin near his seat bone caused him to grasp the arms of the wide chair.
"Patience, my raven," Glorfindel murmured. "I am not nearly finished with you."
Erestor moaned as Glorfindel returned to his ministrations, his arousal once again rigid and weeping. His beloved's tongue slid in and out, causing him to writhe with need in the chair. Glorfindel rose, holding Erestor's legs upon his shoulders, and Erestor felt his lover's arousal nudge his entrance.
"This is how I want you," Glorfindel murmured against Erestor's open mouth. "Undone and wanton, submissive..."
Erestor threaded his fingers through Glorfindel's golden locks. "Enjoy it while you can, my love," he replied breathlessly. "For I will have my due."
Glorfindel laughed huskily. "I do not doubt that," he responded, and then he entered his mate's body in one smooth thrust.
"Ai, gods, Glorfindel!" Erestor shouted as he arched against his mate.
"Mmm... are you well, my love?" Glorfindel murmured against the sweat-slicked flesh of Erestor's neck.
Erestor was filled to the brim with only a cursory preparation. It was not painful, but it had been a shock; Glorfindel normally took his time when entering him. His mate's arousal stretched and filled him, pulsing inside his body. Erestor answered through his clenched jaw, "Why hesitate? I can hardly resist in this position."
"Indeed," Glorfindel growled, and he began riding Erestor's body. He grasped the back of the chair as he drove deep inside his mate, forgoing the slow, often leisurely pace that was his wont. Erestor's cries drove him on, and he pressed his forehead into his mate's shoulder. He could see his beloved's arousal rolling against his stomach, engorged and weeping ceaselessly. Intercepting Erestor's hands, he grasped them by the wrists and held them against the back of the chair.
Erestor struggled half-heartedly to free his arms as Glorfindel rode him with abandon. It had been years uncounted since his mate had taken him so thoroughly and so possessively. Despite the unfamiliarity, Erestor found the experience to be completely erotic. He could not move from the neck down; Glorfindel held his wrists tightly, and his body was placed into submission by his position. He could only wait for the inevitable fall that would succeed their climax. He felt it roaring forth inside him, building in wave upon wave as it ravaged his body. Crying out, he arched against Glorfindel as his seed splashed his stomach, then felt Glorfindel's essence fill him as his mate growled deeply into his ear.
He barely registered the change in his position; all he could feel was the tingling heat that filled him and the luxurious kisses his mate showered upon his trembling and sweating body. He allowed Glorfindel to gather him into his arms and carry him into the bath, then sighed as he sank into the warm water. He was thankful for the fact that Glorfindel took inordinately hot baths, as the water was still warm, even after their bout of lovemaking.
He sat forward just long enough to allow Glorfindel to slip in behind him, then leaned back against his beloved's chest. He turned his head as Glorfindel's lips caressed the curve of his ear.
"Truly, are you well, Erestor? Did I hurt you?"
"No, you did not hurt me, my love," Erestor murmured sleepily. "It was wonderful. Though, I may be a little sore upon the morrow."
Glorfindel chuckled and squeezed his raven's waist. "Now you know how I feel most nights."
Erestor chuckled as well then snuggled back against his mate's body. "Mmm... I love you, my lion," he murmured.
Glorfindel tucked the fall of raven hair behind Erestor's ear. "I love you as well, my Erestor."
* * * *
Síreranu waved as he saw Legolas' boat approach, then tossed his robe upon the rock where his kingly lover had so often sat, before wading into the waves, then swimming out to meet Legolas.
Legolas laughed as Síreranu swam alongside his small boat and grasped the side. "Could you not wait until I landed?" he asked with a broad grin.
"I am afraid not," Síreranu answered with a smile. "I am through waiting."
Legolas reached down and caressed Síreranu's face. "So am I." He paddled slowly as his beloved swam next to his boat with one hand upon the side. Síreranu helped him beach his small boat then he laughed as he was swept up into his lover's wet arms.
"I hardly slept the last two nights, waiting for you," Síreranu murmured into Legolas' ear.
"Nor did I," Legolas replied softly. "It feels so good to be here again, to be in your arms."
"I am getting you wet, my lord." Síreranu chuckled.
"A little water never hurt anyone," Legolas responded with a grin. "Though I must insist that you remove these wet garments from my person immediately."
"With pleasure," Síreranu answered as he threw Legolas over his shoulder.
"Ai!" Legolas cried, then laughed aloud, his voice ringing among the trees as he was carried into the forest.
* * * *
Elrohir sighed as the petals of the orchid caressed his bare skin. His eyes closed, his head inclined back, he arched into the sensation, a smile curving his lips. "That feels so good," he murmured, then he moaned softly as the tips of Elladan's hair brushed his chest.
"I am glad," Elladan answered as he took in his beloved's form with his eyes. "By Elbereth, you are so beautiful, Elrohir..."
"'Tis you who makes me so," Elrohir answered breathlessly.
"I have been lost to you for as long as I can remember," Elladan continued. "I have always known I loved you, that I wanted to protect you, but when we came of majority, when you no longer looked like a child..."
Elrohir smiled. "I remember when I first noticed it, the way you looked at me. The predatory look in your eye frightened me at first, then it excited me beyond reason. It was so difficult to focus on our lessons with you gazing at me over the top of your book."
"The way your eyes would grow wide, then darken a shade, as if you knew what would eventually happen between us..." Elladan sighed. "No wonder I could find interest in no other."
Elrohir gathered Elladan into his arms, pulling his twin on top of him. He tucked Elladan's hair behind his ears and smiled. "I love you, Elladan. My heart belongs to you and only to you."
Elladan smiled. He knew Elrohir felt the need to confirm this after he had spent so many years wanting what could no longer be. "I know, Elrohir," he answered softly. "I have always known." He pressed a brief, soft kiss to his brother's lips. "You are my heart and my soul, you are the best part of me, Elrohir." He then kissed his twin soundly and made love to him as the afternoon waned.
To be continued...
Summary: Legolas comes to a decision; Elladan and Elrohir play games.
Legolas sighed as he turned his head and rested it upon Síreranu's shoulder. They watched the gulls circle overhead, gliding and dancing upon the current. Anor shone brightly and the sky was that perfect color of blue that matched Síreranu's eyes. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the smell of pine and cedar upon the breeze.
Síreranu wrapped the blanket tighter around them; though neither was cold, he enjoyed the feeling of Legolas snuggled between his legs and bundled in the woolen blanket. His kingly lover had taken to spending several days at a time with him in their island sanctuary before returning to the mainland. They made love nearly every night, sometimes with long, lingering touches and deep, passionate kisses, and sometimes with a fierce hunger that would not be subdued. Yet for the myriad of ways they had touched and kissed, they had not yet shared that most intimate of acts. Síreranu was apprehensive about testing those waters, and it appeared Legolas felt the same way. He could not deny that it was something he greatly wished, to join with his beloved and linger inside him, to be as physically close as he could be to his Greenleaf.
Legolas turned in his arms to lie on his side, then his lover hugged his waist tightly and burrowed against his chest. Síreranu tilted his head and pressed his cheek against Legolas' silken locks, and uttered a long, contented sigh.
"This is nice," Legolas murmured, his voice slightly muffled by Síreranu's shoulder.
"Very nice," Síreranu concurred.
"I do not think I have ever known such peace," Legolas continued. "At least not since I have been an adult."
Síreranu caressed Legolas' hair, gently combing his fingers through the long, flaxen strands. "You knew peace as an elfling?" he asked softly.
"Aye," Legolas answered. "Though the world I lived in was not so peaceful. My father shielded me from the unrest and danger in the world, at least until I was old enough to combat it."
"What do you remember about him?" Síreranu asked quietly.
"Everything," Legolas answered without hesitation. "I remember his deep voice, his long, confident, easy stride. I remember his prowess on the battlefield, his cat-like reflexes and defiant stance. I remember his way with horses, how they all came to love him and give him their loyalty, as did all who knew him. He taught me to ride and how to prepare a horse to be ridden, he taught me to fire a bow and wield a sword, he watched protectively as I climbed my first tree and rode my first horse..." a sad smile curved Legolas' lips. "He was always so proud of me, and he always made sure that I knew it."
"What did he look like? I have dreamt some of these things you speak of; I saw them in my dreams, but I never saw the one whose eyes I looked through."
Always, the conversation came back to this: to Síreranu's dreams, which were really his father's memories. Legolas knew he had to take Síreranu to Galadriel soon; to be honest, he was not sure why he had not done so already.
"He was taller than average and larger in build than most elves," he began. "His favorite weapons were the broadsword and the spear, so he was built to use them; he had a powerful upper body. His hair was like mine in color, as were his eyes. Many said we looked alike, that I resembled him more than my mother, though I am leaner and slighter of build than he was. He had a smile that could melt the coldest heart, and there were many who would quietly admire him from afar. He was beautiful in both a serene and frightening way; he could be quite intimidating when the occasion called for it, but he could also inspire such love and loyalty. Many of his warriors are loyal to him still, even though he passed."
"If your love for him is evidence of his character, then he was a fine father and a most excellent king," Síreranu said quietly, placing a kiss upon the crown of Legolas' head.
"He was..." Legolas whispered.
"Does it make you sad to speak of him?" Síreranu asked.
"Not anymore," Legolas answered. He shifted in his lover's arms and gazed up into Síreranu's eyes. "I love you," he said softly.
"I love you, my Greenleaf," Síreranu answered as he caressed Legolas' face.
"Are you certain?"
"Aye, most certain. I am more certain of my love for you than I have been of anything my entire life."
Legolas swallowed and shifted so that their lips were nearly touching. "When I kiss you, when you touch me, that is when I feel whole and at peace. It is as if my whole life I was searching for something, and I finally found it when I first touched you.
"That is how I feel as well, my love," Síreranu answered. "Everything I have experienced until the moment I first saw you was meant to prepare me for this moment, when I would hold you in my arms and at long last tell you what you mean to me."
"What do I mean to you?" Legolas whispered, his eyes closed as Síreranu's breath ghosted over his lips.
"You are my life, my reason for being; without you, I am incomplete."
He said it so matter of factly, as if there could simply be no other answer. The depth and certainty of Síreranu's love was another convincing factor as to his identity. No one had ever loved him that much, no one other than his father.
"What I would not do for you," Legolas whispered. "There is no distance too far, no burden too heavy to carry for your love, for you..." Legolas kissed Síreranu deeply, and then murmured, "I have waited so long, so very long for this...so much pain, so much loneliness, so much death...it all matters naught now, for I have you. Your love is my reward."
Síreranu moaned deeply into the kiss as Legolas shifted to straddle his lap. The king's long fingers massaged his scalp, his flaxen mane covered their faces and Síreranu wrapped it in his hands, luxuriating in its silkiness. Legolas' lean body rocked and undulated against him, both setting his heart free and turning his blood into liquid heat. "You play my body like a lyre, my love," he whispered. "You know me so well..."
"I do know you, as well as I know myself," Legolas murmured against the soft flesh of Síreranu's neck. He slid his hand between his lover's legs and rolled his palm against the Vanya's turgid length. "I know you like this, I know that no one can touch you like I do, that no one will give everything to you the way I do..."
"I would have everything," Síreranu whispered hoarsely.
"And you shall," Legolas answered. "Take me home, my love," he whispered.
Síreranu rolled over Legolas then rose to his knees, offering his lover his hand. He pulled Legolas to him and crushed him against his chest, his fingers clutching his lover's buttocks tightly.
"I want you inside me," Legolas whispered into his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, where you belong."
Síreranu rose to his feet and pulled Legolas up, kissing him deeply before leading him back into the woods and to his bed.
* * * *
Elrohir laughed aloud as he squirmed beneath Elladan, kicking wildly at the blankets upon the bed. "Ai! Elladan! Stop!" he giggled.
"What is the matter, my pet? Ticklish?" Elladan crooned as he pinned Elrohir's wrists to the bed and nibbled just below his left earlobe.
"You know I am!" Elrohir snorted. "Oh gods, Elladan, stop!"
Elladan laughed then flicked the tip of his tongue beneath Elrohir's ear. "What will you give me to make me stop?"
"What have I not given you already?" Elrohir answered breathlessly.
"This morning?" Elladan teased. He ceased tormenting his twin and looked deep into Elrohir's eyes. His beloved's skin was flushed a delightful shade of pink, his full lips were wet and parted, his eyes just beginning to turn that shade of deep slate that betrayed his passion, and his hair, the mass of sable silk that crowned his head was tossed wildly upon the pillow. Elladan watched Elrohir's chest rise and fall with each panting breath, and he smiled. "A kiss," he answered.
"Just a kiss?" Elrohir smiled.
"Just a kiss," Elladan answered.
"Very well, then." Elrohir reached for his twin with his mouth.
Elladan evaded him briefly, enjoying the way Elrohir continued to pursue him, then he pressed his lips to his beloved and drank from Elrohir's mouth. He released Elrohir's wrists and allowed his younger brother to wrap his arms around him as he lay between Elrohir's legs.
Elrohir sighed as Elladan released his mouth. "Mmm... I love you so," he murmured.
"No more than I love you," Elladan answered.
"Oh yes, quite a bit more, I think..."
"That would be impossible, my love."
"So argumentative..." Elrohir teased.
"It is early yet, and I have not had my tea," Elladan responded.
Elrohir chucked. "You make me so happy, Elladan."
"Are you? Happy?" Elladan asked as he gazed into Elrohir's eyes.
"Aye, most happy," Elrohir answered.
"Even now that Legolas is rarely with us?"
Elrohir nodded. "Aye. He has what he has wanted, and now it is time for me to let go of him."
"You are most wise, little brother." Elladan smiled.
Elrohir threaded his fingers through Elladan's hair. "I get that from you, you know."
Elladan snorted. "Oh, is that where you get it from..."
Elrohir brought his hand down sharply upon Elladan's backside, causing his elder twin to bark in surprise. "I am hungry, make me something to eat." He winked.
"So demanding..." Elladan murmured, brushing his lips against Elrohir's before kissing him deeply. "As you wish, my prince," he whispered before rising and exiting the bed.
Elrohir stretched, wincing a little from their exertions the night before, and admired his brother's nude form as Elladan strode across the room. He blew a kiss to Elladan as he watched his twin don his robe and leave for the kitchen. Yawning, he sank back beneath the covers and waited for his beloved to return.
To be continued...
Summary: Legolas gives himself to Síreranu and has a disturbing dream.
Legolas moaned into his lover's kiss as Síreranu's hands caressed his bare skin, sliding the robe he wore off his shoulders. He held Síreranu's face in his hands as he drank from the Vanya's mouth, each caress of his lover's tongue inflaming his desire. Arching into Síreranu's embrace, he felt the press of his lover's arousal against his own. Silken, rigid, hot flesh and the smell of musk surrounded his senses, driving away all thoughts except one: he needed Síreranu inside him; he needed to surrender to the call that had haunted him for so very many years.
They moved to the bed. He could sense the apprehension in Síreranu mingled with his own and with the mutual surety that this was right, that this was how they were both meant to be. Things were happening very fast, too fast some might have said, but Legolas had never been one to do what he was told. His lover's hands, strong hands that both commanded and reassured, touched him in ways that he had never been touched before. Soft caresses were mingled with possessive squeezes, it was as if Síreranu was both claiming and asking permission at once.
He was lost, as he had been from the very start, lost to eyes that saw him for who he was and that were illuminated with both love and understanding. His Vanya was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen before. Síreranu was perfect, in both form and spirit. It was as if the Valar had seen into his mind and made for him the perfect lover, the one that could have only existed in his dreams.
Oiled fingers breached his body and he hissed in response. It had been a long time since he had allowed one to claim him, a long time since he had joined with another in this most intimate of ways. His lover prepared him well, taking great care and time to be sure that the experience would be one of pleasure only.
Legolas waited, lost in the silken glide of Síreranu's arousal between his legs, in the warmth of his Vanya's body pressed against his back, lost in his lover's embrace. "Take me," he whispered. "This is but the last step in what we both know is destined to be." Síreranu pulled his hair aside, exposing his throat and shoulder.
"I take you, my love," his lover murmured into his ear, "and I will keep you always."
Legolas cried out softly as his body was entered, arching his back as his fingers closed around Síreranu's right hand. Filled and stretched, he waited for his beloved to move, waited for the sensation that would drive all coherent thought from his mind and leave him begging for more. Slowly his lover began to move within him. Síreranu was taking his time, savoring this joining of their bodies. Legolas reveled in the sensations that overwhelmed him, the scent of his lover's sex, the warmth of his body, the feel of his slick fist as it glided up and down his turgid length. His moans and cries sounded foreign to his own ears; he had never heard them before, not like that. Síreranu's own deep voice answered him in kind, low, rumbling moans punctuated by whispered words of love.
It seemed to go on for hours; Legolas teetered on the brink of absolute bliss as Síreranu filled him time and again. His lover withdrew and moved atop him, gathering his legs in his arms and entering him again. Legolas wrapped his long arms and legs around Síreranu, his fingers clutching at the Vanya's back as the intensity of their coupling began to build. He locked his ankles and reached for his beloved with his mouth as Síreranu plunged deep inside him, crying out into his lover's mouth as fire exploded inside his body. "I am yours, I have always been yours," Legolas whispered hoarsely. "All I have is yours, I will give myself to no other."
He felt Síreranu brush the damp hair from his face and he opened his eyes. Their faces were so close together that Legolas could feel Síreranu's breath mingling with his own. He could only focus on his eyes, the eyes he had searched for, the eyes that had always gazed upon him with love and watched over him his entire life.
"And I belong to you, Greenleaf; I always have and always will," Síreranu answered.
Legolas felt tears falling from his eyes as his release took him. "I love you," he whispered breathlessly as he felt his beloved's essence flood his body.
"I love you," Síreranu's voice returned, echoing in both his ears and his heart.
Legolas held him there, unwilling to let go. He wanted to keep him inside for as long as possible, to keep this bond forever. "Did you feel it?" he whispered softly.
"I did," Síreranu answered. "Your heart and mine. . .they beat together now."
"We are bonded," Legolas answered as he pressed soft kisses to Síreranu's jaw line. As his lips reached the corner of his lover's mouth he felt Síreranu smile, and he smiled in return.
"My parents always wanted for me to marry well," Síreranu answered.
Legolas chuckled. "You've married a king, my love, you cannot marry much better than that."
"Indeed," Síreranu purred. "A most beautiful and wise king at that."
"Of course, we must have a ceremony or there will be those who will never forgive us."
"Of course," Síreranu answered. He slowly rolled to his back, carrying Legolas with him. "It will be a grand one, in the city where your friends and my family live. There will be music, feasting and dancing..."
"We will exchange rings," Legolas answered softly as he tucked his head beneath Síreranu's chin.
"Aye," Síreranu agreed. "I never feel quite as good when you are gone," he said softly. "It is only when you are with me that I feel complete and at peace."
"I feel the same way," Legolas responded quietly as his hands caressed his beloved's chest. He sighed deeply and then laughed softly as he heard Síreranu yawn. "Mmm, yes, my love," he murmured. "We have both earned a nice, long respite."
He closed his eyes and drifted into reverie as his lover followed.
* * * *
Tall, green grass flowed in waves beneath Arod's hooves as he galloped across the Vales of the Anduin. The entrance to the Elf Path lay ahead, and he whistled to his soldiers. Arod's shoes clattered on the stone bridge, echoing through the cavernous courtyard, and he leapt from his mount's back, taking the steps that led to the entrance of the underground passage three at a time.
"Father!" he cried as he leapt into Thranduil's arms, swept up in his father's strong embrace and swung in a large arc.
"My son has returned a hero," he heard his father murmur into his ear.
"I missed you," he answered as Thranduil released him.
"I missed you," Thranduil answered as he took him by the hand and led him into the caves.
Steam rose around him as he sank into the hot swirling water of his father's baths. Alone, he rested his head on the smooth stone, enjoying the feel of the warm, mineral rich water as it sank into his bones and soothed his weary body. He heard the soft closing of the door, the quiet padding of bare feet, then felt the water move as his visitor joined him.
Opening his eyes, he gazed into his father's sapphire blue orbs, so filled with love and pride. Legolas rose to his feet and stood before him, not resisting as Thranduil took him into his arms. "You must be sure," his father murmured, his deep, honeyed voice filling his ears.
His heart was racing, his limbs trembling; he felt both the urge to run and the urge to surrender. Hands, strong hands that had always been a source of comfort, touched him in new ways, ways that both frightened him and aroused him.
"You cannot have both," Thranduil murmured, his father's lips caressing the curve of his ear.
"Wait..." he whispered...
Legolas awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the bed. His hands were shaking; his heart was racing. He looked next to him and his beloved slept soundly, a gentle smile curving his lips in his reverie. Slowly, he rose from the bed, wrapping Síreranu's robe around him as he stepped out onto the veranda. He sat upon the swing, drawing his legs up to his chest and leaning his head upon his knees.
His dream was fresh in his mind, the dream that never had come to fruition. That homecoming had never happened, because his father had died in Lórien. Deep in his heart he knew what it meant, yet he was reluctant to accept it. That truth had been the source of so many years of pain and longing for him. He knew that Thranduil could never have been both the father he loved and needed and the lover he wanted. No one could be both, because both could never be. To take Thranduil as his lover would mean to lose him as his father. That was indeed the source of the confusion that had plagued Legolas from the beginning.
But now, his father was dead, no longer among the living. Yet, a form of him lived on both in his own heart and, as he believed, in his lover's form. Was this the answer to the question he had posed to Glorfindel? Was this why Thranduil did not return from Mandos' Halls as himself?
"Legolas?"
He looked up to find his lover standing in the doorway, unconcerned about his nakedness. He smiled as Síreranu approached, lowering his feet to the floor as his beloved knelt before him.
"Are you all right? I woke up and you were not in bed."
He reached out and caressed Síreranu's face. "I am fine, my love," he said softly. "I had a dream, that is all."
Síreranu frowned. "A dream of the Hither Lands?"
"Yes," Legolas answered as he nodded. "It was but a dream, no more."
"Come back to bed, dear one," Síreranu said quietly as he rose to his feet. "I shall give you a more pleasant dream."
Legolas allowed Síreranu to pull him to his feet and he wrapped his arms around the Vanya's shoulders. "I love you so," he whispered.
"I know you do, and I love you as well, my precious Greenleaf."
For the first time, that form of his name coming from his beloved's lips did not sound as it should, as he wanted it to sound. He shrugged it off and followed his beloved back inside the house.
To be continued...
Summary: Legolas introduces Síreranu to his friends.
Legolas sat on a fallen tree and watched his beloved working the soil of his garden. He admired the beauty of Síreranu's body, watching how his skin glided over his taut muscles as he worked the hoe into the soil. "Are you sure I cannot help?" he asked.
"Do you really want to?" Síreranu asked with a grin.
Legolas grinned in return. "Perhaps not."
Síreranu laughed. "So, my Sinda King is not a gardener..."
Legolas laughed aloud. "Not really."
"'Tis not work for me, my love," Síreranu answered. "This sets my mind at rest."
"Are the dreams still plaguing you?" Legolas asked softly.
"Aye. I wish I understood them."
"I know someone who can help you," Legolas answered.
Síreranu stopped his work. "Who?"
"The Lady Galadriel."
"I have heard of her; she is most powerful, is she not?"
Legolas nodded. "She sees things, things that most of us cannot see. I think she can help you find the answers you seek."
Síreranu leaned the hoe against the side of the house and walked toward Legolas, kneeling in the dirt before him and placing his hands upon his beloved's hips. "You are kind to think of me," he murmured against his lover's mouth. He teased Legolas' lips with a quick flick of his tongue. "You taste so good," he whispered.
Legolas smiled as he wrapped his arms around Síreranu's neck, placing soft kisses upon his lover's face. "I should have told you sooner," he whispered. "I thought the dreams had vanished, since you had not mentioned them."
"I suppose I am so accustomed to them that I have learned to live with them. They are less frequent when you are with me." He nuzzled his lover's neck. "And what of your dream? The one that caused you unrest last night?"
"'Tis nothing, I have nearly forgotten it already," Legolas answered softly.
"Are you sure?" Síreranu asked as he pulled back, his brow furrowed with worry.
"Very sure," Legolas answered, hiding the discomfort in his eyes.
"When shall I meet this lady?" Síreranu asked.
"Upon the morrow; I shall take you to her."
"I love you, Legolas," Síreranu murmured before pressing a kiss to his Sinda's lips.
"I love you, Síreranu," Legolas answered, before returning the gesture in kind.
* * * *
Elladan and Elrohir stood upon the quay, watching as Legolas and his lover approached in their small boat. Elladan gazed intently upon the Vanya, seeking some sign that Thranduil's spirit resided within him.
"He is most beautiful," Elrohir murmured to his elder twin.
"Aye, most impressive," Elladan concurred.
"They make a fine pair."
Elladan smiled and squeezed his twin's shoulders. "That they do."
Legolas smiled as he approached, hand in hand with Síreranu. "Elladan, Elrohir, this is my. . .beloved, Síreranu."
Síreranu smiled as Legolas paused briefly in an attempt to find the best word to describe him; beloved was more than adequate. He held out his hand to the one called Elladan. "'Tis a pleasure to meet such good friends of Legolas," he said softly.
"Sweet Elbereth," Elladan murmured under his breath before taking the Vanya's hand. "The pleasure is ours." He recovered briefly. "Legolas speaks most highly of you."
Elrohir was convinced he was staring, but could not seem to stop himself. Not only was this Vanya extraordinarily beautiful, but also his eyes were riveting. "Indeed," he added. "We understand we owe you a great debt, as you saved his life. Legolas is most dear to us, as you must know."
Síreranu took Elrohir's proffered hand. "Aye, I do, as he is dear to me. He is truly special."
Elrohir smiled. "Special is a most excellent way to describe him."
"All right, this is beginning to make me uncomfortable," Legolas groused playfully.
Síreranu slipped his arm around Legolas' waist. "Forgive us, my love."
Legolas smiled. "Forgiven," he answered as he placed a soft kiss upon his lover's lips.
They turned and began the walk toward the twins' home, and Elrohir picked up Elladan's hand without a second thought. Síreranu briefly raised an eyebrow, and then decided that others' choices were none of his concern. Who was he to begrudge others their heart's desire when he had his own?
"Glorfindel and Erestor will be coming for dinner," Elladan said over his shoulder. "Elrohir and I have prepared a room for them, as they will be staying the night. We assumed you and Síreranu would take up residence in your room."
"So, I am meeting everyone at once?" Síreranu playfully raised an eyebrow.
"Everyone is anxious to meet you, I have talked so much about you," Legolas answered.
Síreranu smiled. "Trial by fire," he murmured.
Legolas squeezed his waist. "They will love you, as I do," he answered.
Síreranu nodded, but did not answer. It was important to him that those who loved Legolas approved of him, and he was not accustomed to being around so many elves at once, so he was more than a bit apprehensive though he tried to hide it.
They reached the home of Elladan and Elrohir, and entered through the grand doorway. Síreranu looked around the stately and impressive home decorated with tapestries and lush draperies, elaborately carved furniture, and walls and walls of books and weaponry. It was so unlike his home, but bore a slight resemblance to his parents' house, less the weaponry.
Quickly, they fell into a relaxed routine. The twins began preparing the meal, Legolas gave Síreranu a tour of the home, then left him to wander as he went to acquire a couple of glasses of wine.
Síreranu paused before an open tome, thick and bound in leather, with tales and illustrations depicting the history of The House of Elrond. There were few in Valinor that were not aware of Master Elrond's importance long before he arrived. After all, Elrond was the son of the brave and bold Eärendil, and the grandson of Tuor, the only man to have ever seen Valinor. He was also the marriage-son of Galadriel and Celeborn, which in itself assured him a high place among the Noldor.
The book lay open to a page depicting the crusade of the Sons of Elrond against the scourge of Middle-earth, Orcs. Síreranu was awed by what he read, that these two friendly, unassuming elves had single-handedly wreaked so much havoc amongst such fearsome creatures. Like Legolas, they were warriors, nobles, their whole lives and history were tied to a place he had only seen in dreams, to a life that was completely unlike his own.
He suddenly was reminded of how different he was. How he never felt as though he belonged anywhere or with anyone, at least until he met Legolas. Still, this difference made him feel strange, outcast, in a way. His entire life he had been a loner, only accepting the company of a few close family members and an occasional lover. He had placed himself in that position, withdrawing into the forest and choosing to live alone. Now, he was attempting to re-enter the world of the living, to have friends and a life that included others. He feared the transition would not be easy.
"Síreranu?"
He turned away from the book to see Legolas standing before him, a glass of wine in an outstretched hand. He smiled and accepted it, leaning forward and kissing his beloved on the lips. "Thank you, my love," he said softly.
"What is the matter?" Legolas asked, a slight frown clouding his otherwise happy expression.
"I was just reading the book. Your friends were fearsome warriors."
"Aye, they were, and are happy to no longer need to be so. They have spent many years in unrest; they have earned this peace."
"No doubt," Síreranu agreed. "Has it been difficult for them to adjust? Has it been difficult for you?"
Legolas paused before he answered. "A little, I suppose." He took Síreranu's hand and led him out to the veranda. "While our last years in Middle-earth were spent in peace, there was still the need to be vigilant. While Sauron and his minions had been destroyed, Men still had the capacity to be evil, and we had to guard against that. So while there were no wars, there were occasional skirmishes that needed our attention. Here, there is no longer any need for defenses; there is no need for vigilance. Sometimes it is difficult to remember that."
Legolas placed his glass of wine on the balcony ledge, wrapping his arms around Síreranu's waist. "I am so happy you are here, my love. It makes me so proud to introduce you to my friends."
"I hope I do that pride justice," Síreranu answered as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind Legolas' ear.
"You already have," Legolas answered as he leaned in to give Síreranu a kiss.
"Now if that is not true love, I do not know what is," Erestor murmured to Glorfindel.
Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "Aye, my love, you can see it flow between them, almost as if they are lit by it." He grinned and cleared his throat. "We do so hate to interrupt, but we understand there is one among us that we simply must meet."
Legolas and Síreranu broke their kiss and looked at Erestor and Glorfindel. "Hello, my friends!" He held out his hand. "Come, let me introduce you to the one who saved my life."
Síreranu felt his face flush. "Legolas, please..."
"It is true, is it not?" he answered with a grin. "Síreranu, these are my dear friends, Glorfindel and Erestor. Glorfindel served Gil-galad and Master Elrond, not to mention King Turgon in Gondolin. Erestor was also a captain in Turgon's army and served as Chief Counselor to both Gil-galad and Master Elrond for many years."
"Glorfindel of Gondolin and Imladris," Síreranu said as he held out his hand. "'Tis an honor to meet you, my lord. I have heard many stories of you as I was growing to adulthood."
"I can assure you, they are not all true," Glorfindel answered with a grin.
Síreranu smiled at Erestor as Glorfindel released his hand. "And Master Erestor, I hear tell that there is no better advisor or negotiator in all of the Undying Lands."
Erestor smiled and bowed his head as he accepted Síreranu's hand. "It is an honor to meet one that Legolas holds in such high esteem. We have been anxious to make your acquaintance since we first heard of you."
"Thank you, my lords. I only hope I do justice to Legolas' description of me."
"You will, my love," Legolas purred as he kissed Síreranu's neck.
"It does our hearts much good to see Legolas so happy," Glorfindel added. "He has endured enough loss for a lifetime."
"Aye," Síreranu agreed as he hugged Legolas closely. "I hope to change all of that, at least in some small measure."
At length, the twins joined the foursome on the veranda, entering arm and arm and carrying a decanter of wine. "Our meal will be ready shortly, the pheasant has but a little longer to roast," Elrohir said.
"Are you sure you do not need assistance?" Erestor asked.
Glorfindel laughed. "By Elbereth, I swear you cannot keep this elf out of a kitchen! How the cooks in Imladris survived him is beyond me."
"I will have you know I was far too busy doing real work in Imladris to enjoy the work of a kitchen, unlike some whose 'work' consisted of gallivanting on horseback!" Erestor grinned as he protested.
Glorfindel smirked and playfully rolled his eyes before giving his mate's waist a squeeze. "Of course, you are right, my love."
"I always am." Erestor winked.
After a short time enjoying drinks on the veranda, the sun began to set and the merry group of elves entered the house to enjoy the evening meal.
To be continued...
Summary: The truth is revealed.
After a long evening comprised of drinks, feasting and conversation, the twins and their guests retired to the main living area to enjoy some brandy after their meal. A fire blazed brightly in the large fireplace, casting an amber glow and warming the air of the room. Elladan had tried to observe Síreranu closely, without being obvious, and it was not long before he was as convinced, as Legolas was, that this Vanya did indeed house his father's spirit. However, Síreranu was not simply Thranduil reincarnated; Síreranu was also his own being, with his own life, his own memories and his own tastes. This complicated things quite a bit. If he was merely Thranduil, it would only mean reawakening his memories, memories that he could easily reconnect with. But this... this meant somehow helping Síreranu come to terms that he was a dual being, that he was both himself and his lover's father.
And how would that be received? To know that he had lain with the one that in another life, a life separate from his but now joined, he had been Legolas' father? How would he react when he learned that Legolas suspected who he was even before that first, fateful kiss? Even as wise and understanding as elves were, it was difficult to grasp how a father and son could share such a love. Indeed, it had been difficult for some to grasp how he and Elrohir could share such a love, but that love was accepted in time, when proof of it was evident.
But a father and son? Between him and Elrohir, there was equilibrium; they were of the same age, though he was a few minutes older by birth, if not conception. They were of the same status within the house, and they were equals in all other ways. Thranduil, however, was Legolas' sire, his mentor, his teacher, his guardian... to cross that boundary, to enter into a relationship where one often held sway over another when that dynamic had already been established outside of a romantic relationship? Now, there was the rub. Elladan knew in his heart that Thranduil had always recognized that problem, and that was why the king kept his feelings hidden for so long. Yet, Legolas had found his own way to that path, despite Thranduil's efforts to bury it.
Would Síreranu see Legolas' actions as a betrayal, would he ever see his beloved the same way again? Indeed, would he still be able to touch Legolas as he did now, with a combination of such tender affection and deep hunger?
So here they were, on the eve of Síreranu's discovery, drinking wine in the parlor as if nothing more was to happen upon the morrow than one more introduction. Elladan silently prayed that all would be well after Síreranu met with Galadriel, and he prayed that his grandmother would find a way to help the Vanya without bringing harm.
Glorfindel sat up and stretched his arms over his head, twisting at the waist. Erestor half-lay, half-sat upon the divan next to him, a sleepy smile curving his lips. "I do believe it is time to seek reverie, my love," Erestor murmured.
"Agreed," Glorfindel answered quietly as he held out his hand to his mate. They glanced down at Síreranu and Legolas, who were reclining on the rug before the fire, the latter lying back against his lover's chest. Síreranu held him in such a way that spoke of both reverence and love, as though his sole purpose was to protect his Sindar King.
Elladan and Elrohir smiled up at their former tutors from a divan across from where Glorfindel and Erestor had sat. "Good eve," Elrohir said with a smile.
"Rest well," Glorfindel answered, then turned to Síreranu and Legolas. "We will see you upon the morrow."
"Good night," Legolas answered, and Síreranu nodded.
Glorfindel and Erestor left the room hand in hand, climbing the winding stair toward their guest room. Legolas and Síreranu soon followed as Elladan and Elrohir put out the lights downstairs.
Closing the door behind him, Legolas grasped the collar of Síreranu's tunic in his hands, pulling him close. "I had no idea how hard it would be to be so close to you and not touch you as I wished," he murmured into Síreranu's ear.
"Indeed," Síreranu answered in a husky whisper as his hands roamed his beloved's back, sliding down to grasp his firm buttocks.
"I want you," Legolas purred into his lover's ear. "I want to have you."
Síreranu smiled seductively as he nuzzled his beloved's ear, "That is what I want as well," he whispered.
Legolas guided Síreranu to his bed, slowly lowering him to his back as he made a thorough perusal of mouth. He took his time removing his lover's garments, taking in each bit of perfect flesh with his eyes as it was revealed. He explored his beloved's body with his mouth and his hands, making slow, languorous love to him until neither could keep their eyes open any longer.
* * * *
Síreranu glanced nervously at the gates that led to the Lady Galadriel's garden. Legolas was waiting for him inside the house, attended to by Lord Celeborn, the twins, and Glorfindel and Erestor. His fate was on the other side of those iron gates; the answers to all the questions he had his entire life were about to be given to him. Did he want to know them? How would they change what he knew and believed about himself?
Slowly, he reached out and pushed the gates open, stepping into a lush, peaceful garden. Scents of exotic and fragrant flowers surrounded him and he could hear the soft patter of water falling. Each step was an effort, his legs felt like lead as he moved forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning the courage to face his dreams and his future. He did this for Legolas as much as for himself. This had to be put behind him before he could move forward and devote his life to what was to come. When he opened his eyes, that was when he saw her.
At first, he thought she was a Vala. She stood bathed in sunlight, swathed in a shimmering white gown, with her golden hair cascading down her back. Never had he seen one so beautiful, so otherworldly. She turned, slowly, her ice blue gaze fixing him upon the spot where he stood. Instinctively, he flinched, averting his gaze; looking into her eyes was like looking into the face of Anor. He did not hear her approach, it was as if she floated rather than walked. The touch of her fingertips under his chin caused a shiver to run the length of his spine. Against his will, she gazed into his eyes and beyond, into his mind and his soul.
* * * *
Legolas paced nervously as his friends watched. He felt like a caged cat, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action. He was not sure if he wanted to run away or run to Síreranu. For the first time in a long time, his primary emotion was fear. What would happen when Síreranu learned who he was, at least in part? What would he do or say? Would he understand? Would he be hurt? Would he be repulsed? Legolas unconsciously shook his head. Anything would be better than that; revulsion from the one he loved more than anyone in the world would be more than he could take. It would be the final nail in his coffin.
Erestor watched Legolas with growing concern. The fate of not only Síreranu's life, but Legolas' as well, rested on what happened in the garden. He had faith in Galadriel's compassion and wisdom, but that aside, would what Síreranu learned overwhelm that? Since Legolas had come to the home he shared with Glorfindel, Erestor had been preoccupied with thoughts that had not surfaced in a very long time. In his mind, he had turned over and over that wish that had haunted him from the time of Gondolin's fall to the day of his binding to Glorfindel. What if he had only gone with Glorfindel? What if he had been able to climb the precipice fast enough? He knew with certainty that no beast of Morgoth could have stopped him from reaching Glorfindel. Indeed, it was no Balrog that stopped him, it was the small boy he held in his arms as he watched his soul mate fall to his death. He closed his eyes tightly, willing away the vision of golden hair and blue and silver robes burning, of the sound of the beast bellowing, of the sound of his own voice choking on his screams. He had often wondered since then if Glorfindel remembered it as he did, or if Mandos had been kind and wiped that terrible day from Glorfindel's memory. When he had asked Glorfindel how much he remembered, that question had been met with silence. He had feared what that silence meant. Perhaps Glorfindel was just stronger than he was, or at least more accustomed to pain.
As if his mate read his thoughts, he felt the comforting, protective squeeze of Glorfindel's hand upon his own. He opened his eyes and looked up to be greeted by his beloved's calm and comforting smile. He smiled in return, nodding his head slightly, then turned his gaze to the view of the mountains outside.
Elladan massaged Elrohir's shoulders. Elrohir's watchful gaze was fixed on Legolas as their friend paced the floor. 'Please let it be all right' he heard Elrohir's nearly soundless whisper, and he squeezed his twin's shoulders gently. He joined in his brother's silent prayer as they waited.
* * * *
Galadriel was not surprised by what she saw; she rarely was. 'Two souls in one body,' she thought as she held Síreranu in her gaze. ''Tis not the natural way of things.' He was trying to hide from her, but he could not, she knew him too well. 'Why are you here?' she asked him with her thoughts. The answer she received was not the one she expected. 'You know this cannot be,' she thought; the answer to that question was one she expected. She smiled sadly as she released Síreranu's mind, then reached out and touched his face.
"This cannot be," he said in a voice so soft she barely heard him.
"You are correct," she answered, "it cannot be."
"He knew," he said in shock. "He knew who I was, who was inside me..." He shook his head. "That is why he said he had been searching for me..." He looked at Galadriel with pleading eyes. "Why would he do that? He said he loved me, he said..."
Galadriel held Síreranu's chin. "He does love you; he loves both of you. He loves you to the utter heights and depths that love can be experienced. He loves you so much that he risked eternity in Mandos' Halls rather than live without you. He loves both of you, and I believe that you will be surprised who he will follow in the end." She caressed his cheek. "This has not been easy for him. The fear, the confusion, the loneliness; he has borne so much, risked so much to come this far. Do not turn your back because you cannot understand this now."
"I cannot face him, not like this. I need time..."
"And you shall have it. Follow this path through the gates on the far side of the garden. Take the road up the hill and you will find a small cottage where you can stay until you are ready to see him."
"What of him? He will be hurt if I just leave; he will not understand."
"I will take care of him. This is the best way; to see him now when you are so confused is risking too much."
Síreranu nodded, then turned to look back at the house. "Forgive me for not being stronger, my love," he murmured, and then he followed the path out of the garden.
* * * *
Legolas was still pacing as Galadriel entered the parlor, the twins, Glorfindel and Erestor gained their feet with a sense of impending dread.
The lady did not need to speak for Legolas to know that Síreranu would not be following her. "No," he said. "Where is he? I must see him, I must explain.."
"He needs time to come to terms with what he has learned, Legolas. He cannot do that with you there; you need him too much, he loves you too much."
"Where is he? Where did you send him?" Legolas started for the door when Glorfindel caught him. "Let go of me!" he shouted. "I have to see him; you do not understand, none of you understand!"
Glorfindel struggled to hold onto Legolas as Erestor closed the door, barring his exit. Elladan grabbed Elrohir as his twin moved to intercede on Legolas' behalf. "Let go of me, Elladan."
"Not this time, Elrohir. This is how it must be."
Elrohir ceased pulling against Elladan and shook his head. "This is too much." He clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out Legolas' angry shouts.
Glorfindel subdued Legolas and held him as his angry struggling melted into weary acceptance. "I can't lose him again, not again," he whispered.
Galadriel placed her hand upon Legolas' cheek. "You will not, you must believe me."
Legolas turned his tear-filled eyes to the lady's gaze. "I pray you are right, for this is one hurt I cannot bear."
"Have faith, my friend," Glorfindel murmured into Legolas' ear. "All will be as it should be." He wrapped his arms around Legolas' waist and hugged him gently.
Legolas nodded silently. He would not speak again until Síreranu's return.
To be continued...
Summary: Síreranu returns.
Days and nights passed as Síreranu sat on the edge of a cot in a strange place. He did not move, did not speak, he only thought and listened to the voice that had awakened inside him. He had not been that far off in his estimation of his own life's purpose; he was indeed born for something that no one outside him could have understood. The one inside him had been waiting, biding his time until Legolas arrived. True, some part of his mind had known Thranduil was there; that was why he drew the pictures and had the dreams.
What he knew now was that Thranduil had never touched his son in passion. So how was it that he knew what Legolas wanted, when Thranduil did not? One thing he did understand was the profound loneliness that the king had felt in his latter years; that feeling that part of oneself is missing. Thranduil had gone through the motions, as had he, and it was true that Thranduil had cared about some of his lovers, as he had himself. Yet, the Sinda had never known the love of the one he needed and cared for above all others; that was a privilege that was Síreranu's alone. While Thranduil experienced the emotions, he only witnessed the act, not directed it. While this Sinda existed in Síreranu's spirit, he could not control Síreranu's body; at least he had not tried to, yet.
Now, they both loved Legolas, they both needed him, and Síreranu wondered how he could live his life divided like this. It was difficult to realize that you were not who you thought you were, at least not wholly. He felt off balance, unsure of himself, and he began questioning where he began and Thranduil ended. The voice inside him was calm, reassuring, strong; it was all the things Legolas described. "He needs you," Síreranu finally whispered. "He needs you, not me. It is you he sought, you he attempted to follow to Mandos' Halls, not me."
'Nay,' the voice inside him echoed. 'He needs you as well, he needs us both.'
"But he cannot have us both, no more than he could have had both when you were still alive. Why is this happening to me?"
'I needed him to find you, and I knew he would only do that if he could see me in your eyes,' the voice whispered. 'I knew you were the one when I saw your unborn spirit in Mandos' Halls. I knew you were the one that my son could fall in love with. You will set him free of the pain he has known for so long.'
"And what of you? How can we continue this way?"
'We cannot. Legolas needs to be strong, and you are the only one who can make him strong now. He cannot go through this alone; he will fade.'
"Go through what? What are you saying?"
'Sometimes one must let go of one thing to gain another. Legolas has been holding onto me; he must let go so that he can be happy. I want my son to be at peace, I want him to live a happy life; he has earned that much.'
"I want the same, more than anything."
'And you shall give it to him. The rest is up to me.'
"What will you do?"
Síreranu waited, but the voice did not return. As Ithil rose, he stood and left the cottage, walking down the path toward the home of Galadriel and Celeborn.
* * * *
Legolas lay in a soft bed, surrounded by silk and linen, watching the draperies float upon the cool breeze. Spring was on its way, the season when all things were renewed and reborn. He had spent the last days in solitude, walking in Galadriel's garden. His mind was too preoccupied to read or do anything of use. He had not uttered a single word or taken a bite of food since Síreranu left; he felt no desire to communicate what he was feeling inside. In fact, he could not even if he tried, so profound was his sense of loss. The only thing keeping him grounded in the world of the living was the hope that Síreranu would return as Galadriel had assured him he would.
He was glad that Elladan forced Elrohir to return home. On top of what he was feeling, he could not bear the guilt of being the source of so much worry to his friend. Glorfindel and Erestor had left as well, leaving him alone with Galadriel and Celeborn. He was gazing up through the tree boughs that swayed outside his window when he heard the door open. He did not turn to see who entered; he did not care. It was not Síreranu.
Rúmil knelt beside the bed and picked up Legolas' hand, holding it gently and turning it over in his own. He stroked the king's palm lightly with his fingers and began to softly sing a song that he had heard Thranduil sing when the king was in Lórien. Rúmil watched Legolas' eyes well with tears and he said quietly, "It is all right to weep." He continued to sing as Legolas wept and Galen waited near the door.
* * * *
Galadriel smiled gently as Rúmil closed the door behind him.
"I worry that he is not strong enough to wait much longer, Lady," Rúmil said softly. "His heart is breaking."
"He need wait no longer," Galadriel answered as the Vanya whom Rúmil had seen at the docks stepped forward. A quiet gasp escaped him as he looked into the Vanya's eyes, and he furrowed his brow. "I know you..." he began, then he swallowed and continued, "Can it be?"
"It can," Galadriel answered.
Without warning, and almost as he did so long ago in Galadriel's garden in Middle-earth, he threw his arms around the Vanya and held him tightly.
Síreranu, taken aback by the sudden embrace, took a small step backward to rebalance himself, and then held Rúmil in his arms.
"I knew there was something about you the first time I saw you," Rúmil said softly. "But you would not look at me."
Giving voice to the words he heard in his mind, Síreranu said, "Thank you, Rúmil, for being so strong for Legolas, and for being such a good friend to me." It felt strange to say these things, and he feared it was far from the last time he would do such.
"He waits for you, my lord," Rúmil said softly. "He needs you."
Síreranu nodded as Rúmil released him, then he bowed his head slightly to Galen before entering Legolas' room.
* * * *
Legolas slept on his side, and it pained Síreranu so see how vulnerable and sad his beloved looked. "Forgive me," he whispered, undressing in silence before lifting the sheets and sliding into the bed beside his lover. Legolas mumbled quietly, and Síreranu carefully pulled the Sinda's lean form into his arms. He breathed deeply, taking in Legolas' scent as he caressed his bare arms and chest. His lover was deep in reverie, lost in a dream of some sort.
"Father," Síreranu heard Legolas' whisper and he closed his eyes, holding Legolas tightly.
"I am here," he whispered, his voice nearly cracking with sorrow. Legolas mumbled and snuggled closer, and Síreranu held his lover while he slept.
* * * *
Legolas awoke in his beloved's arms and sat up slowly, a smile curving his lips. "You came back to me," he whispered. He gently brushed the hair away from Síreranu's face with his fingers, gazing upon the form of his sleeping lover. Holding Síreranu's face in his hands he whispered, "I have missed you so much." He then began placing soft kisses upon his lover's face.
Slowly, Síreranu's eyes opened, the past days and nights had been more tiring than he realized. As he gazed into Legolas' eyes, he smiled.
"I was afraid you would not return," Legolas said quietly.
"That was never an option," Síreranu answered as he tucked Legolas' loose hair behind his ears. "I am sorry I left as I did, but...
Legolas pressed his fingers against his lover's lips. "I understand." He placed gentle kisses upon each of Síreranu's eyelids. "Do you know how much I love you?" he murmured.
Síreranu closed his eyes. "How much?" he whispered.
"So much that the thought of life without you is unimaginable," Legolas answered.
Síreranu felt that nagging doubt as to whom those words were meant for, him or Thranduil. There was so much he wanted to say, but he feared to utter the words.
Síreranu's silence caused Legolas to pull back and look into his eyes. "I know this is difficult to understand," Legolas said softly. "I barely understand it myself."
"I keep hearing these words in my mind," Síreranu replied.
"What words?"
"You cannot have both..."
Legolas' breath caught in his chest; they were the words his father had spoken to him in his dream. "Why can I not?" he asked in a low whisper.
"Because both cannot exist," Síreranu answered. "He cannot... I cannot be both."
"Are you asking me to choose?"
"I do not know what I am asking; indeed, I fear what the answer to that request might be," Síreranu replied. This time, it was he who placed his fingers upon Legolas' lips. "You have been through too much. To ask such a thing of you is unfair."
"To ask you to be both is unfair," Legolas responded. He laid his head upon Síreranu's chest, listening to the comforting, strong, steady beat of his lover's heart. "To ask you to be anyone other than who you are is unfair," he finished in a whisper.
"The problem is that I do not know who I am, really," Síreranu answered. "I suppose I never have."
"I know who you are," Legolas answered. "You are my beloved, my bonded mate, and within you lives the spirit of my father. But you are not my father, Síreranu, you are my spouse. You had a life before all this, with family and a home and a purpose. Those things are still there, you are still there."
Síreranu tightened his hold on Legolas. "I love you," he said softly. "I cannot live without you."
Legolas placed a soft kiss upon his beloved's chest. "Nor can I live without you, my love."
They listened to the sound of the wind in the tree boughs as they contemplated their future and sought answers to questions that had none.
To be continued...
Summary: A moment of truth.
Síreranu and Legolas returned to their home on Tol Eressëa. Neither knew what the future held in store for them; they could only go forward one day at a time. Galadriel and Celeborn had offered their home and gardens for their bonding ceremony, which was, as nearly everyone could tell, a formality. Legolas and Síreranu were bonded in spirit now; the ceremony would only be the finishing touch for the benefit of their families.
Legolas had not seen his mother since his arrival, so Galadriel and Celeborn agreed to stand in for his parents during the ceremony. In the days after the War of the Ring, Celeborn had grown close to Legolas during their long walks and discussions in Eryn Lasgalen. The Elda had great respect for Legolas as both a warrior and a ruler, and a strong friendship had formed between them. Legolas knew how much Celeborn respected his father as well, and that meant the world to him.
Legolas knew Síreranu had some doubts as to how their lives would progress, given the state of things. Legolas also knew that Síreranu feared that he only loved him because Thranduil existed inside him, and as much as his lover tried to hide this insecurity, Legolas could still see it. He tried to assuage the Vanya's fears, because in truth, he did love them both, equally if differently. In the beginning, Legolas had been drawn to Síreranu because he saw Thranduil in his eyes. So many years of waiting, of being focused on one goal, had blinded him to anything else. But in the months they had been together, he had also fallen in love with those parts of Síreranu that were totally unlike his father: his sentimental nature, his insecurities, his love of gardening, his passion for swimming. Legolas had never known his father on this level. In fact, during his lifetime Thranduil had been focused on raising him and protecting his homeland. Aside from those two things, Legolas had no idea what his father was like. Were these things he saw in Síreranu also things he never knew about his father, or were they separate from Thranduil altogether?
One kiss had created this complicated web. One kiss, because he saw in another's eyes one he had been searching for, for years uncounted. Now, because of his one overriding desire, because of his desperate need, he had drawn an innocent into his web, and to further complicate things, he was in love with that innocent. He watched Síreranu filling the birdfeeders with seed, something he could never imagine his father doing, and he contemplated the words his father had spoken in his dream. 'You cannot have both'. He knew what they meant, even when Síreranu had reiterated them. The question was, if he could not have both, what would he choose?
His father had communicated with Síreranu, somehow, that much he could tell. However, he was not able to communicate with Thranduil directly, even when he could see his father in his mate's eyes. He had briefly considered asking Síreranu if he could somehow speak to Thranduil, but that seemed cruel, so he refrained. He knew Síreranu was afraid that he loved Thranduil only; to ask to speak to him, even if Síreranu could facilitate it, would only reinforce that fear.
Those questions and more filled Legolas' mind as they quietly ate their evening meal, and then took a moonlight walk through the forest around their home. As they retired, Legolas noted that Síreranu was once again wearing a nightshirt as he slipped beneath the covers. That was not his habit, but he had done so every night since his return. They had not made love, had not touched in passion since the last night in the twins' home. Legolas had not pushed the issue, wanting to give his beloved time to accept what he had learned. Indeed, he feared that Síreranu was somehow repulsed by what he knew: that Legolas had pursued him because of who existed inside him.
So he did as he had done those many nights, snuggled into Síreranu's arms and closed his eyes.
* * * *
The warm water of the baths caused steam to rise in the small room, and Legolas surrendered himself to the warmth of the air and the water. He felt the water ripple around him and opened his eyes to see his father standing waist deep beside him. "Why can I not have both?" he asked softly.
"Because I cannot be both," his father answered. "I believe that somehow my love for you and your devotion to me became confused."
"You mean you do not believe that we are meant for one another?" Legolas asked.
"How could we be, Greenleaf? To have me as your lover means you lose me as your father. Is that what you want?"
"No. But I love you so much."
"And I love you. But you see now that it is possible for you to love another."
"You did this. You were waiting for me inside him."
"I was. You had to see me inside him before you could see him for who he was. If you did not, you would have gone on searching for me, and you never would have found the one you are truly meant to be with. As much as you love me, Greenleaf, you cannot cross the line between love and passion; you love me, but you do not want me, not as one lover wants another. This was proven the last time I contacted you."
"I was confused, I just needed time."
"You have had hundreds of years, Greenleaf. You told me to wait because you could not go forward."
"But I have lain with him, and I did so because I thought he was you."
"Your heart thought it was me, but your eyes saw someone else. It was not my hands that touched you, not my mouth that kissed you. If you saw me, and only me, you would not have done this."
"Whose hands, whose mouth?"
"You know the answer to that. He made love to you, not I. He is the one you are meant to be with, not me."
"I do not want to lose you again, father."
"I will always be with you, Greenleaf. You no longer need me."
"But I love you, whether or not I need you."
"And I love you. What I desire most of all is for you to be happy, for you to have what you have always wanted, and you have that now, in Síreranu."
"I have you in him."
"Not really, and you know this."
"Wait, I am not ready, do not go..."
* * * *
Legolas' eyes opened with a start and he drew a sharp breath. Before he realized it, he was calling out for his father. He sat up in the bed and heard his beloved mumble; looking down, he saw that Síreranu's brow was furrowed and his head was turning slowly from side to side.
"Síreranu. Wake, my love, you are having a bad dream."
Legolas heard his beloved mumble, "yrch," then "ambush". He gripped Síreranu's nightshirt and began trying to wake him in earnest. "Síreranu! Wake!" he called, as he began to shake his mate. He watched helplessly as Síreranu cried out and growled as if he was in pain, and Legolas realized what he was witnessing. He was witnessing his father's death.
Síreranu moaned then mumbled "ring" and "spear", as tears began to well in Legolas' eyes. His father was dying again and he was powerless to stop it. He continued calling Síreranu and shaking him, but to no avail. He heard his lover's voice say, "tell him I love him" then a long, ragged breath escaped the Vanya.
"No... no..." Legolas whispered as he ceased trying to wake his lover. He leaned close and placed kisses upon Síreranu's face. "I love you, father," he whispered. "Rest well and do not worry for me."
Síreranu did not stir for several moments, and then suddenly he gasped as his eyes opened. Wide-eyed, he looked at Legolas and said, "He is gone."
Legolas smiled sadly and nodded, placing a gentle kiss upon his beloved's lips before curling into his arms.
* * * *
For the first time in his life, Síreranu awoke without the feeling that someone was watching him. He placed a kiss upon the crown of Legolas' head as he gently tightened his grip on his beloved. He was free, free of the dreams, free of the questions; he was just himself. He felt light, young, reborn, as if his whole life was ahead of him now and filled with endless possibilities. He was no longer haunted by a past that was not his own.
He also knew that this was a time for decisions: that Legolas would either stay because he did truly love him, or leave because he was no longer who his Sinda had needed him to be. While this thought caused him some fear, it was also a relief, for to live with the doubt he had felt would have been too much.
Legolas mumbled softly in his sleep and Síreranu realized, for the first time, how much he truly loved this Sindar King. He smiled as Legolas opened his eyes and gazed up at him.
Legolas looked into Síreranu's eyes, and for the first time, his father was not there. Instead he saw eyes as clear and bright as the sea, slightly different in color than they were before, sparkling with hope and youthful optimism. He shifted his position to lie in between his beloved's legs, and caressed Síreranu's face with the backs of his fingers.
"How do you feel, my love?" he asked softly.
"Light," Síreranu answered. "Clear; all the confusion of days past is gone."
Legolas realized as he gazed into these new eyes that his father had been right. He was in love with Síreranu; this elf was the one he was meant to be with all along. "No more secrets," he said softly.
"No more guilt or fear," Síreranu answered.
Legolas smiled as he shook his head slowly. "No more."
Síreranu threaded his fingers into the mass of flaxen hair that crowned his lover's head. "Make love to me," he murmured against Legolas' lips.
"Yes," Legolas whispered, then took his beloved's mouth in a deep kiss.
To be continued...
Summary: A bonding and a homecoming.
Legolas reclined between Síreranu's legs. The lovers lay on a blanket in the shade of a tree on a small hill, overlooking the meadow where their bonding ceremony would take place the next day. Galadriel and Celeborn's household staff were busily staking lanterns in the ground and setting up long tables; the delicious aroma of baking breads and pies filled the air.
Legolas turned his head to gaze at his beloved's face, detecting the smile that curved Síreranu's lips. "We will be officially wed upon the morrow," he said softly.
"Aye," Síreranu answered. "Do you think we will feel different?"
"I am not sure," Legolas answered. "But I doubt it. I cannot see how I could love you any more than I do right now."
Síreranu tightened his grip on Legolas' waist. "Nor could I love you more," he concurred.
"I think the whole city of Tirion has been invited to the ceremony," Legolas continued.
"It will be quite the event."
"Only one thing is missing," Legolas said softly.
"I am sorry, my love," Síreranu murmured quietly.
"I know, though this is for the best, we both know that. I only wish he could be here, I mean really be here. This would make him so happy."
"We will be surrounded by those who love us; it will be a most joyous day."
Síreranu furrowed his brow as he saw an elf crossing the meadow that did not look as if he belonged there. "Who is that?" he pointed toward the stranger that emerged from the trees.
Legolas sat up slowly and shielded his eyes from the sun. "It cannot be," he whispered.
"What?" Síreranu asked, as he watched his lover gain his feet and he followed suit.
"It is my father!" Legolas cried, and sprinted down the hill toward the meadow.
Síreranu watched as Legolas leapt into his father's arms. The tall, strong elf held his beloved tightly and swung him in a large arc. Fear clenched at his heart as the old doubts crept in briefly, but then he pushed them aside and embraced the joy that his beloved was feeling.
Legolas held onto Thranduil tightly, his face buried in his father's flaxen mane, his fingers clutching at his strong back. "It is really you," he whispered, unwilling to let go.
"Aye, Greenleaf, it is really me. I have missed you, my son," Thranduil said softly. His eyes traveled up the hill to where Síreranu stood. He recognized him instantly, having seen his face in the mirror many times. Slowly, he released Legolas and cupped his son's cheek with his hand. "Will you not properly introduce me to your beloved?"
Legolas was beaming; Thranduil could not recall seeing his son look happier.
"Of course! Come..." Legolas took Thranduil by the hand and led him up the hill to where Síreranu stood. "Father, this is my promised mate, Síreranu. Síreranu, this is my father, Thranduil Oropherion."
Thranduil smiled warmly, accepting Síreranu's proffered hand. "Come, my friend," he said gently. "I think you and I know one another too well to be so formal." He drew Síreranu into an embrace and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Síreranu, for all that you have done."
"Thank you, my lord, for guiding Legolas to me," Síreranu answered softly. He could see what Legolas had loved about this elf; Thranduil was exactly as Legolas had described him. He was confident, warm, open, and beautiful beyond compare. He had to wonder what the Sinda's life would be like, now that his son would be bonded and he free to live as he chose without duty or war dictating his days.
"Sweet Elbereth! Thranduil Oropherion?"
They turned to see Erestor standing at the top of the small hill, hands hanging limply by his sides, his mouth open in utter shock.
"Why, Master Erestor, never have I seen you at a loss for words," Thranduil answered with a grin.
Erestor came down the short distance and took Thranduil's hand in both of his own. "It is so good to see you," he said softly, pumping Thranduil's hand excitedly, "and completely unexpected."
Thranduil chuckled. "Unexpected indeed. But surely you did not think I would miss the wedding of my only son?"
Erestor laughed. "Indeed not! Nothing would stop that." He turned. "Glorfindel! Fetch the Lord and Lady and the twins and come quickly! We have a visitor!"
Soon, they were surrounded by friends and loved ones, all welcoming Thranduil home. Thranduil shook hands, kissed Galadriel on the cheek, embraced Elladan, then turned to see a teary-eyed Rúmil standing in front of him. "Hello, my good friend," he said softly, and then embraced Rúmil tightly.
"It is a blessed day," Rúmil said quietly. "We are all home now."
"That we are, my friend, that we are," Thranduil agreed.
"Come," Galadriel said softly. "Legolas has been without his father for far too long for us to interfere." She began shepherding the small crowd toward the house.
Síreranu began to follow when Legolas' caught his wrist.
"Where are you going?"
"I thought you would want time alone with your father," Síreranu answered quietly.
"What I want is you by my side during this joyous homecoming," Legolas replied with a smile.
Thranduil took Síreranu's free hand. "Yes, I must insist you make my son happy," he replied with a grin.
Síreranu smiled shyly and nodded. "Yes, my lord." They wandered off toward the forest where they sat and talked, catching up and getting to know one another again.
* * * *
The ceremony had been everything it was supposed to be. Thranduil stood for his son, giving his consent to Síreranu's parents for their bonding. Síreranu's parents agreed, taking not only Legolas into their fold, but Thranduil as well. Legolas and Síreranu exchanged rings and promised to love and honor one another until the end of time, and then they sealed their promise with a kiss that was cheered by all the guests. Following the ceremony, the guests of honor and their witnesses engaged in feasting and dancing, celebrating the joyous union of two that had always been meant to be.
Ithil was rising, casting her silvery glow upon the meadow. The jasmine was in full bloom, perfuming the air with its soft, seductive scent. Thranduil stood by, watching his son dancing with his beloved, surrounded by their friends who joined them in the dance. Their long journey was complete; things had come full circle and were as they were meant to be. His love for Legolas was once again only that of a father for a son, and he saw now what had happened during those long years in Middle-earth. His life's purpose was to love and protect his son, to guide him and teach him. That was an awesome responsibility, one that was complicated by the danger they lived with everyday. He could see how his deep love and affection for Legolas had become so strong that it had blocked out everything else. It was only when he journeyed to Mandos' Halls that he saw the truth; that Legolas was a precious jewel to be cherished and protected, and that his son had the chance to be truly happy. Síreranu was that chance, a pure, untouched, uncorrupted spirit that had no knowledge of violence and war, had no experience with death and the sorrow it brings. Síreranu was the one who could bring his son peace.
He felt eyes upon him and turned, meeting the storm-gray gaze of a tall Noldo. Immediately, he knew this elf was a relative of Galadriel, for he had long, pale golden hair, just as she did. His eyes were also like hers: piercing, all-seeing, and he knew immediately that he was looking upon one born in Aman. He bowed his head and raised his glass, then the Noldo approached, raising his glass in return.
The tall elf covered his heart with his free hand and bowed his head. "I am Finrod Felagund, brother to Galadriel and son of Finfarin."
"I am Thranduil Oropherion, father to Legolas," Thranduil answered.
Finrod smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet one of our Sindar friends. I miss my days visiting Doriath."
"It was a beautiful place," Thranduil agreed. "It is not often that I meet an elf who appreciates a good cave," he added with a wink.
Finrod chuckled. "Aye, this is true. My own caves paled in comparison to those of Thingol."
"As did mine," Thranduil agreed. "We will never see the likes of the splendor of Menegroth again."
"Agreed." Finrod took a drink of his wine. "Your son and Síreranu look most happy," he said softly.
"It has been my life's wish to see my son this way. He has fought long and hard, he has earned some happiness and peace."
Finrod nodded. "As have we all. I have no children of my own."
Thranduil turned and gazed at his new friend. "No mate?"
"No. I never met the one I was supposed to bond with."
Thranduil took a sip of his wine.
"Your wife, where is she?"
"My wife and I parted ways long ago. She is happier without me. Being married to a soldier is no easy thing."
"Nor is being married to a ruler," Finrod added.
"Very true."
"So, you do not have a lover, then?" Finrod asked.
Thranduil smiled coyly before lowering his goblet. "Nay, no lover. I have only recently arrived."
Finrod smiled. "I should like to get to know you better; perhaps we can share memories of the Hither-lands."
"Among other things," Thranduil murmured.
"Pardon?" Finrod queried.
Thranduil placed his goblet on the table and faced his new friend. "Shall we take a walk?"
"I would like that very much," Finrod answered, and followed Thranduil toward the city.
Legolas watched his father walk away, smiling and raising his hand as Thranduil turned to look at him. "Finrod Felagund, who would have thought?" he murmured.
"What was that, my love?" Síreranu asked.
"Nothing," Legolas murmured as he nuzzled his mate's ear. 'Yes, all is as it should be,' he thought. He laughed as Síreranu twirled him around the floor, narrowly avoiding Elladan and Elrohir.
"O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! Your true-love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know."
~ William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act II, scene iii.
~Finis