Series: Changing Times 12

Title: Fighting Spirit 3

Author: Naresha (north_shore_fruitcake@yahoo.com.au)

Type: FPS Slash

Pairing: Thranduil/Erestor

Rating: R

Beta: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Thranduil and Erestor try to mend the past.

Warnings: Angst

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, all characters were created by JRR Tolkien and it is not intended to cause insult or offence to the persons referred to herein.

Notation: This fic has been rated in accordance with the approved TTFF Rating System for Australian and New Zealand fiction.

Feedback: Keeps Spitsy the plot bunny in carrots.

Archiving: Elffetish,Melethryn,Mirrormere,OEAM,Writings of Resha,Slash Me Happy - All others just ask!

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The wind blew softly around the two elves as they walked slowly down a worn path. Neither one looked at the other - neither one dared to for fear that they would see something in the other's eyes that would destroy the fledgling emotional platform that had just been formed. Slowly, a tentative hand stretched out, daring to brush aside a stray lock of hair from a fallen head. A second hand reached up, grasping the daring hand within its grasp, holding it tightly.

"I…"

"Shh…" Thranduil pressed a finger to Erestor's lips, silencing him. "We do not need words right now. Come." Thranduil adjusted his grip on Erestor's smaller hand and led him down the corridor they had just come. Slowly, he led him out into the dark woods, leading him down a small, twisting path. "I used to come here each night when you left. It seemed as if you could see for years here." He led him up a tiny set of stone stairs to a flat shelf in the side of a rock wall. "It is so secluded, yet so wide and free. It was the only place that I was even able to contemplate living without you."

Erestor stood silently, staring out over the woods. Thranduil was right, it was almost as if time stopped and you could see through it from their position. "It is breathtaking," he said quietly, standing back.

"Come," Thranduil said simply, taking a step backwards and holding his hand out to lead Erestor out onto the ledge.

Tentatively, Erestor stepped forward, sliding out onto the ledge and letting Thranduil help him down. As he sat there, gazing out at the dark, shadowy landscape, a soft sigh escaped his lips.

"What is the matter?" A large, fair hand fell to rest on his shoulder.

"Nothing… Everything…" Erestor sighed, struggling to put words to how he felt. "I no longer understand my own world. I sit here, looking out upon your woods and somehow feel like I have come home, yet I do not belong here, it is like I am not welcome."

Thranduil listened, his hand continuing to rest upon Erestor's shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort. He tasted the slight coppery tang of blood in his mouth as he bit down on his own tongue, trying to restrain himself from saying anything before his companion had finished saying everything that was weighing on his mind.

"In less than a year, the world I knew so well has seemingly crumbled under its own weight. So little has really changed, yet everything is now different. I find myself back here, in a place that I swore I would never return to. And now…" he sighed again and fell silent, studying the rise and fall of the trees before him.

"It no longer makes sense," Thranduil finished quietly.

Erestor nodded and folded his hands in his lap. "Those I trusted have shaken me to my very core with their actions, and those I never thought about…" he trailed off for a moment. "It seems that I have lost many I have trusted, but gained few…" he sighed again.

"You can trust me," Thranduil whispered. "I would never do anything to shake your beliefs. Not again…"

Erestor looked down at his hands, studying the curvature of his knuckles and how his fingers laced together as he licked his lips. He didn't know what to say to Thranduil and his insides were tightly knotted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend. "I learned not to cry," he said quietly, wiping a stray tear from Thranduil's angular cheek. "But then I learned not to feel at all. And that is a horrible thing," he whispered, his eyes closing as he turned away again, single tears weeping through his eyelashes. "It tortures you inside from the moment you make your choice, yet you cannot see it. It gnaws away at your heart and your mind, and your outlook changes…"

"And you fall headlong into darkness," Thranduil said, taking advantage of Erestor pausing for breath.

Erestor nodded silently, looking down again.

"It is hard to climb out." Thranduil sat down as close to Erestor as he dared.

Erestor nodded and rested his head on the shoulder next to him, gazing out over the landscape. He sighed, the sideways world seeming to make a little more sense than the upright one. He felt a hand take his, and looked up, seeing green eyes looking back at him. He glanced away, feeling his cheeks warm. He had vowed never to return to Mirkwood, yet now that he was here, he was struggling not to let himself be pulled in by the same lusty forces that had pulled him in the last time. He felt his hand being released and the warm body that had only moments ago supported him moving away. He heard the soft crunch of grit from the stone shelf they had come to. He felt his breath catch in his throat and he almost jumped at the unexpected noise. He turned back guiltily, but found the space next to him empty. He sighed, turning his eyes back, downcast. He rested his head against the cold rocks behind him, his eyes half-closed. He picked up his own hand, running his fingers over the still warm sections of skin that his fellow elf's hand had rested upon only moments before. He held it up to his cheek, breathing in the invisible scent. He felt a tear press at the corner of each eye and he pressed his closed eyes tighter together, trying to keep the tears from falling. He hung his head, "He gives me food and shelter and clothes me and I drive him away…" he whispered to the night air. "He takes me in again, when he could have had me sent away, or… or… anything! He is their king now, he could treat me in any way he wished." He sighed, staring at his hands, folded on his lap.

"I would never treat you as my father treated others." A soft whisper came from behind him, as long fingers brushed his dark hair from his face. "I could never condemn those I had once loved so dearly." A hand turned Erestor's face around and distressed green eyes met Erestor's gaze. "I have never forgotten what I did to you, or how I spoke that day. Nor have I forgotten your response. Never has justice hurt me so badly," Thranduil whispered, his own head drooping wearily, falling like a dying flower. "I wanted to follow you; I was willing to chase you anywhere in this world, for however long it took, yet I could never get away. My father all but chained me to his side. He was so proud of me… He even threw a celebration in honour of your leaving." He continued to look away. "It made me sick. I could not eat for days…" he paused, swallowing the choke that threatened to enter his voice. "If I allow myself to admit the truth now, then I really did not eat for months." The green-eyed elf sighed again. "No one noticed," he added quietly. "I took no partners to my bed, nor did I join another in theirs. It pained me to imagine ever sharing a bed with any other. Even when I had managed to rid your memory from the forefront of my mind, I still only saw your eyes in my dreams. Every time I dreamed… Be it oliphant or orc; elf or man; it had your eyes. I could not rid myself of them." He dared to look up and into the dark eyes of the one he sat beside. "I could never forget them," he whispered.

Erestor felt like he had been speared through the heart. He closed his eyes and sighed as he saw those emerald eyes dancing before him. He turned to face Thranduil, his eyes open. "I know,.." he whispered.

***

Erestor awoke with an unfamiliar warmth in his heart. He smiled and pulled the blankets up under his nose, gazing up at the smooth, dark ceiling. His eyes drifted closed again, any nagging uneasiness from the night before had dissipated in his dreams. Dreams of green and gold had swirled around his mind, caressing him with warm, soothing fingers. Memories of distant years and long-repressed nights of passion had fought to return to the forefront of his mind. He rolled onto his side, still smiling as green eyes continued to overtake his mind. He sighed, smiling still. "Luck finally returns to Erestor," he murmured to himself, pulling the blankets in closer again. "It has been so long, so, so long…" he whispered sleepily to himself. "Before Glorfindel, I had nothing…" His eyes shot open, all thoughts of returning to sleep wiped from his mind. Erestor heaved himself from his bed, and pulled his heavy robes around his thin frame, padding silently down the cold stone corridors and out into a small garden. His fingers ran over a small trailing vine, picking up a fallen flower. 'Ai… My heart is now divided. I loved Glorfindel when I left Imladris, but now that I am here, I find my old feelings returning. There is something about Thranduil that Glorfindel does not possess. By just being with him, I feel like I am lightened, I feel like the world is melting away and leaving only us. With Glorfindel, I am happy, but I am still burdened. But I cannot just remain here and never return to Imladris…' He closed his eyes, the flower still in his hands. "What am I to do?" he whispered out loud.

***

Thranduil looked out the small window, studying the dark form of his friend, sitting amongst the plants, his head bowed. Whilst he could not discern the words that came from his friend's lips, he could guess what they were. He moved away, not wanting his presence to be known. He returned to his chambers, dressing, ready for the day. He shooed all who required him, pushing them away with abnormal callousness. He asked only for water and for his guest to be brought to him. He waited, his nerves increasing with every passing second. The longest few minutes of his life passed between asking for Erestor and his actual arrival.

"You sent for me?" the dark haired elf asked, the strain of the thoughts weighing on his heart borne clearly in his voice.

Thranduil sighed, attempting to swallow the lump that stuck obstinately in his throat before turning around. "Yes. I did."

"Why send a messenger? Why not come yourself? I thought we had healed enough of our old wounds to converse in a normal manner?"

"We have. But I did not want to disturb your meditations personally."

"You saw me sitting in the garden?"

Thranduil nodded and sighed. "Go to him, Erestor."

Erestor looked at him quizzically, confused as to how Thranduil had any idea to his thoughts. "Thranduil?" he asked quietly. "How…"

"Your stance. Your shoulders were so low, your chin resting on your chest, the dying flower in your hands… Your heart could only be in one place."

"It only came to me this morning. What I had left behind…" he sighed. "But there is so much confusion back in Imladris… The way Lord Elrond has been acting… Lord Celeborn… It is all so troubling!" He sank into a chair. "I feel so different here. I had never realised how weighted down I felt in Imladris." He felt a sting in his eyes. "But yet, I simply cannot throw away all that I have gained these past few months; the happiness that I have found with Glorfindel is second only to the happiness I found within these walls so many years ago," he said quietly.

"And you should not do so. One does not laugh in the face of happiness simply because things change for the better." Thranduil sighed. "Return to Imladris. Make your decision then. I will not keep you here when it is obvious you are so torn."

Erestor rose, crossing to where the king sat, dropping to his knees before him, his head resting against his knees. "You are too kind to me. As always." He looked up and smiled. "No matter what my decision may be, you shall see me again. I will not have some unfeeling party deliver my message so formally." Erestor took Thranduil's hands in his own, pressing a kiss to them. "I promise you shall see me again."

TBC…