Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana
Author’s Email:
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas
Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Legolas and Melpomaen face Thranduil and have to fight for their love.
Lómion continues to heal, but suffers a setback in his recovery.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.
Warning: AU of course!
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them!
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine.
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 10
Night was settling surprisingly quickly over them, making it Legolas’ first priority to find a safe resting place. He spotted a cave and headed for it. The two Elves had traveled for most of the day, only pausing for minutes to stretch their legs and get their circulation going again.
Legolas gave Melpomaen an approving look. He had expected the advisor to be out of his element on the road, but Melpomaen’s actions spoke of confidence. His beloved had been on the road before. It was then that he realized just how little he knew of Melpomaen’s past. “We will rest here for the night.”
Melpomaen nodded once, dismounted, and Legolas guided their horse into the back of the cave. They fed and watered the steed and then looked at each other, uncertain what to do next.
“The cooks filled my traveling bags with bread, cheese, fruit and water. We will not go hungry tonight.” Legolas sat down on the ground whilst Melpomaen remained on his feet. “Is anything amiss?”
“We should build a fire in case we attract the attention of any wild animals. I will gather wood.”
“I will join you.” Legolas placed the food aside. Working together, it didn’t take them long to gather an ample amount of wood and to build a warm fire, which illuminated the cave. Once they were seated side-by-side and eating their fill, Legolas said, “You have been on the road before.” It was an attempt to learn more about his lover’s past life.
Melpomaen drank some water and then met Legolas’ eyes. “I hail from Lindon. When Elrond decided to set up camp in Imladris I traveled with him and I never left. Whilst he fought at Ereinion’s side, I stayed in Imladris and prepared for his return.”
“You are older than I thought,” admitted Legolas in a thoughtful voice. Seeing the distant look in Melpomaen’s eyes, he realized the past hadn’t been pleasant for the advisor. He wondered what had happened to put that absentminded look in the dark eyes. Melpomaen looked lonely although they were only inches apart and Legolas felt the urge to comfort his beloved. “Would you like to rest against me?” Melpomaen needed no extra encouragement and moved close. Legolas wrapped an arm around his beloved once the advisor had settled himself comfortably against him.
“There is much about me that you do not know,” said Melpomaen, softly. “And I reckon there is a lot about you that I do not know about either.”
“Do you regret leaving Imladris?” asked Legolas, worried at hearing Melpomaen’s tone. “We are still close to Imladris and it would be easy for you to return there. But the longer we stay on the road, the harder it will get.”
“I do not regret joining you,” replied Melpomaen, raising his eyes to meet Legolas’. “But you are correct – I am worried. I worry about your father’s reaction upon seeing me.”
“My father is a kind soul,” said Legolas, after a moment’s thought. “But his past has made him very wary. He won’t trust you at once. You will have to give him time.”
“But you are quite certain that he will accept this?”
Legolas nodded his head once and whispered his next words into his beloved’s ears. “My father wants me to be happy and he will accept you as his son-in-law. Have faith in our love, Melpomaen.”
Melpomaen rested his head against Legolas’ shoulder. “I have never acted this impulsively before. I am an advisor – I think before I act!”
Legolas smiled. “I am glad you acted impulsively, for it means I still have you at my side. No matter what awaits us, Melpomaen, I want you to know that I love you and that I will fight for our love.”
“So will I.”
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“You did what?” In disbelief, Elrond blinked his eyes. “Erestor, you did *what*?”
“I advised Melpomaen to travel to Mirkwood.” Erestor stood in front of Elrond’s desk and calmly met the half-Elf’s gaze. “If he wants to have Legolas’ love, he will have to fight for it.” Briefly, his gaze shifted from Elrond to Glorfindel. “Like I did.” Then his gaze returned to rest on Elrond. “I know what it feels like to lose the love of your life and there was no reason for Melpomaen and Legolas to be separated.”
“I can give you a reason,” said Elrond. “Thranduil.”
Glorfindel, standing behind Elrond, nodded once. “Thranduil will not give Melpomaen a warm welcome.”
“Love conquers all,” was Erestor’s simple reply.
Elrond’s gaze softened, realizing Erestor was talking from personal experience. Although Erestor had become a good and trusted friend, he realized only too well that he knew little of his Chief Advisor.
“Oh, meleth1!” Erestor’s words had touched Glorfindel and he advanced on his beloved. Taking Erestor into his arms, he hugged him tightly. “I will always love you.”
Erestor closed his eyes, released a deep breath, and rested his upper body against Glorfindel’s. “I have the utmost trust in Melpomaen’s skill to placate Thranduil – and their love is true. Legolas and Melpomaen belong together.”
“Have you seen this in one of your visions?” asked Elrond, curiously.
He hadn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. He seldom had a vision these days, as he had become more like one of the Firstborn and less like a Valar. In the end, he said, “I *know* they belong together.” He had sensed the love that bound them.
Elrond accepted those words, but they didn’t take away his worry. Thranduil was known for his temper and there was no way of knowing just how the Woodland King would react. But this was out of his hands now, and all Elrond could do was hope for the best.
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Lindir wondered about Elrohir. At first, only Elladan had sought him out, demanding he sing and tell stories of times long gone. But now his brother had joined him and the two Elflings sat opposite him, pleading with him to hear another story or another song. And like always, Lindir gave in and sang for them.
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“Come to bed, meleth?” Ereinion had already undressed and retired to bed. After eating dinner, Lómion had offered to clean up and do the dishes. Ereinion had used the opportunity to brush the tangles from his hair, listening to the sounds his beloved made whilst rummaging about in the kitchen. He loved him – he knew that for certain and now he desired nothing more than Lómion’s presence in their bed.
Lómion drew in a deep breath. All day long he had mentally prepared himself for this moment. He was determined to take the next step and to show Ereinion that he had dealt with the abuse – that Eöl no longer had a hold on him. He wanted nothing more than to be the lover Ereinion deserved. For Ereinion’s love was true and the former King would love and treat him well.
After removing his shirt and leggings, Lómion stretched beside Ereinion. Lying face to face, he sucked in his breath when Ereinion raised a hand to rest it on his hip. The touch was loving and kind, and yet he recalled another touch, which had been gripping and bruising. No, he didn’t want to remember this! He had dealt with it! The abuse was in the past!
Ereinion read the unease in the doe-like eyes and wondered what to do. Should he remove his hand and stop his ministrations or should he push on? Maybe all Lómion needed was some encouragement? Some reassurance, that he was still wanted in spite of his horrid past? It was a difficult decision to make.
“I want your touch,” whispered Lómion, seeing Ereinion’s thoughtful expression. “I want to be your lover.” But what would it be like? Being Ereinion’s lover? Would his lover respect his wishes? Would Ereinion accept hearing ‘no’ from his lips? Would the other Elf stop his caresses and give him the space he needed? Or would he force himself on him like the Dark Elf had? /Nay, this is Ereinion and not Eöl! Ereinion is different! He loves me!/ But could he be absolutely certain of this?
“I know you do, but are you ready to take that place in my life?” Ereinion caressed Lómion’s dark hair. “I can wait. I am patient.”
Lómion shook his head. “I do not want to wait. I want this now.” He needed to know what it would be like for them. Would Ereinion make him happy? Respect and love him?
“And what is ‘this’?” asked Ereinion, making sure there was no misunderstanding between them. He needed to know how far Lómion wanted to take this.
“I want to feel your touch. I want you to kiss me. I want us to be intimate…” But a part of his soul screamed its protest. Once he had started their lovemaking, he would no longer have any control over it and Ereinion could do whatever he pleased with him. He would be vulnerable and the mere thought of being at Ereinion’s mercy made the child inside him ache and curl up in terror. “I need to know what it is like – to make love.”
Ereinion sucked in his breath in surprise. “You are not ready yet to take that step!” What they needed to do was to take small steps and not move forward to the act itself. “We shall limit ourselves to kissing,” decided Ereinion.
“I want more than mere kisses.”
“We will see about that.” Ereinion was determined to do nothing else besides kissing. No matter how hard Lómion would push him, he would *not* give in and make love to him!
Lómion pressed closer and touched his lips to Ereinion’s. His arms wrapped themselves around the former King’s waist and he closed his eyes, savoring the sweet sensation. This was what he wanted – to *feel* that Ereinion loved him. The past didn’t matter to Ereinion – the abuse didn’t matter. Ereinion wasn’t like the Dark Elf. Ereinion would stop if he told his beloved so!
Ereinion sensed something was amiss, but couldn’t label the sensation. Lómion was too eager, pushing forward too much and too hard, but he would go along and let Lómion set the pace. He would not take the initiative in this matter and let Lómion do whatever the other Elf wanted.
Kissing Ereinion felt good and warmed Lómion from the inside. His lover parted his lips and teeth and Lómion moaned, finally exploring the warm and moist cavern. Never before had he felt like this! The feelings that raged inside him were like a torrid sea, tearing him apart. “Do you love me?” he asked, in-between kisses. /Do you respect me? Can I trust you? Will you put my best interests first? Or are you merely taking advantage of me? Like the Dark Elf did?/
Ereinion, left breathless due to Lómion’s unexpected passionate kisses, failed to answer. All he could do was to stare in rapture at the beautiful Elf above him.
Not getting an answer worried Lómion, who couldn’t identify the expression in Ereinion’s eyes. Had the former king changed his mind? Had Ereinion realized just what he had allowed into his bed? Nay, he didn’t want to lose his beloved! He would do anything necessary to make Ereinion stay! “Please?”
Ereinion, still lost for words, wondered about the desperate expression in the brown eyes. He wanted to reassure his lover and tell him that everything was fine, but he was awe-struck, seeing the love in Lómion’s eyes. The fact that Lómion had thought himself incapable of love still stunned him.
Lómion was growing distressed. Why wasn’t Ereinion answering him? How could he fix whatever he had done wrong?
Ereinion’s eyes widened, finding Lómion changing positions. One moment ago, his beloved had been stretched beside him and kissing him, the next, Lómion was on all fours and presenting himself to him. The dark head was bowed and Lómion rested it on his arms, creating a submissive pose. Ereinion’s heart pounded madly, as he pushed himself upright. Moving closer, he brushed the long hair away from Lómion’s face. “What are you doing, meleth?”
“I will let you take me…”
Hearing the pain, shame and guilt that colored Lómion’s whispers broke Ereinion’s heart all over again. Tears pushed against his eyelids, but he fought them back, realizing he couldn’t show any weakness now.
“Just stay. Do not leave me… Love me?” Lómion felt too ashamed to make eye-contact and stared at the sheet beneath him. “I do not know what I did wrong, but I cannot bear you not talking to me.” A distant part of him wondered what in the Valar’s name he was doing! Why was he acting in such an irrational way? Did he even know why he was offering himself to Ereinion?
The answer was ‘no’.
“Oh, meleth!” Ereinion bit his bottom lip, wondering about the best course of action. Was Lómion offering him his body because his beloved thought it was the only way to keep him close? Or was it something else? Something he had missed? “Would you please lie down on your side again?”
“You want to take me that way?” Lómion still didn’t make eye-contact. His thoughts marched in circles and none of them made any sense. Was offering himself to Ereinion the wrong thing to do? And if that was the case, why was he doing so in the first place? What had happened during that one moment when Ereinion hadn’t answered him? Something in his mind had short-circuited and had set off this strange reaction.
/Ereinion will loathe you even more now!/ came Maeglin’s voice from the back of his mind. /He is not like the Dark Elf! Ereinion has shown you that he is different! How could you offer yourself to him? Do you think so little of him?/
“Nay, meleth, there will be no taking tonight.” Ereinion gently placed his hands on Lómion’s back and shoulder and began to lower him onto his side onto the bed. “I want you to rest comfortably.”
Lómion pressed his eyes shut and curled up in a tight ball. /I made the worst mistake ever! I assumed he… What did I assume? Oh, Ereinion, I do not know why I did that!/ Too ashamed to face Ereinion, he kept his eyes shut and tremors coursed through his body. Nothing made sense anymore!
Ereinion collected the sheet from the foot end of the bed and covered his beloved with it, tucking it around the shivering body. Once Lómion was safely tucked away, Ereinion moved closer and buried his love in a hug. “Do you want to talk about what happened just now?”
He really didn’t want to, but at the same time he realized he owed Ereinion an explanation. “I do not know why I did that.”
Ereinion decided to pressure on – it was important they got this out in the open. “I think you *do* know why you offered yourself to me in that way.”
“Maybe I do,” admitted Lómion, fighting more tears. “I wanted to placate you. One moment you were responding to my kisses and the next you went quiet. I became afraid that you realized what you were kissing and…”
“Stop it right there,” said Ereinion, interrupting Lómion. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
It was the fact that Lómion *did* trust Ereinion that made him comply. He thought he would see loathing in Ereinion’s dark eyes, but he was stunned to find them swimming.
“What did you mean when you referred to yourself as a ‘what’?”
Lómion swallowed, nervously. He really didn’t want to say the words. “I did not realize it until just now…” Was that the reason he had been acting in such a strange way? How many more truths about himself would he uncover? And did he want them uncovered? Wasn’t it best to keep them in the shadows were they belonged?
“Well?” Ereinion gave his beloved an encouraging smile and stroked the long, dark hair.
“The Dark Elf… he… he made me feel… like… like…” Oh, he couldn’t say the words! Lómion felt too ashamed to admit the truth! And by actually speaking the words, he would make them come true – at least, he believed that it would.
“Like what?” Ereinion already suspected what the answer would be, but still pressed on.
“A whore…” Lómion sobbed openly, then. “He always made me feel like that…”
Ereinion felt relieved that Lómion had spoken those words. For now he could show his beloved how wrong his conclusion was. “You are not a whore, Lómion. And I forbid you to offer me your body in that way, ever again. I love you, and aye, I want to become one with you, but only when you truly want it too.”
Lómion peeked at Ereinion through half-closed eyelids. Words were just words and could be twisted, could be lies, but it was different with actions. His eyes widened dramatically -- Ereinion *had* refused his offer. Instead of ravishing him, like the Dark Elf would have, Ereinion had assisted him in lying down, had covered him with a sheet and was now comforting him. “I should not have done that.” But, at least he was slowly beginning to understand why he had offered himself to Ereinion and he felt even more ashamed for doing so. /I must have lost my mind – there is no other explanation for my behavior./
Ereinion nodded. “But, you did. And some good has come out of it. At least now you know that I will never abuse you in that way. I love you, Lómion. And even if we never take *that* step to be intimate – I would still love you. For love is more than the physical act.”
“I…” Speechless, Lómion wondered what to say. His mind was a mirror of contradictions; he wanted to make love to Ereinion, but, after offering himself to the former King, he realized he wasn’t ready for that yet and that he actually feared performing that act. When he had offered himself to Ereinion, his feelings had gone blank. He would have taken whatever pain Ereinion had given him and he would have endured, because he had needed to know what Ereinion would do – take him or comfort him. Ereinion had comforted him…
“You are precious to me,” said Ereinion, who had caught a shadow of Lómion’s troubled thoughts. “And I will never reduce you to a body to draw my pleasure from.” He drew in a deep breath and then risked it all. “I am not the Dark Elf, Lómion. I will never abuse you.”
The swimming, dark eyes closed, hearing those words. “I know you are not. I feel so… conflicted. I do not understand why I am reacting the way I am.”
“Your actions do not have to be logical,” said Ereinion, in an effort to console his lover. “You are in safe surroundings now. No one can hurt you here and you are finally facing your fears and doubts. Aye, I know that you trust me. You also know that I love you, but you have only known mistrust when it comes down to relationships. In a way, it is normal for you to put me to the test.”
Lómion’s eyes widened. “Is that what I did? Put you to the test?” It did make sense. Only moments before offering himself to Ereinion, he had wondered if his beloved would respect his choices – if he would respect hearing ‘no’. And then he had offered his body to Ereinion and his lover had refused. He then realized that Ereinion would always respect his ‘no’, because his lover would make certain he would never have to say no. Ereinion would always put him first and respect his wishes. His lover would never pressure him into pleasuring him.
“I think so. When you offered yourself to me… What did you hope for? That I would accept or reject you?”
Confused, Lómion searched his feelings before even considering answering Ereinion’s question, which deserved an honest answer. Focusing inside, he realized the truth. “I fervently hoped you would reject my offer.” His eyes widened. “I *was* testing you! But, Ereinion, I never realized… I would never have done so if I had known what I was doing! I am so sorry! How can I make amends?”
“There is a way,” replied Ereinion, closely monitoring Lómion’s reaction.
His heart missed a beat – was it now Ereinion’s turn to test him? Or had he been wrong and would Ereinion now make him pay for playing with his feelings? His heart pounded like mad in his throat and the palms of his hand grew sweaty.
“You could call me love. You never did before, meleth.” Ereinion had long realized what direction his beloved’s thoughts had headed in. Lómion might not realize it, but the process of healing had started now that they were finally discussing these matters. /You will continue to test me and I vow to pass whatever test you devise./
Lómion freed a hand to wipe at his tears. He felt ashamed for thinking Ereinion would extract revenge. /I have to get it into my mind that Ereinion is not like him. Ereinion loves me and is an Elf of honor. He will never hurt me!/
“I do not deserve your understanding – your forgiveness. How you can forgive me is beyond me…” Seeing Ereinion’s hopeful expression, he added, “melethron2.” The brilliant smile that shone from the former King’s face took him aback. Admitting the truth wasn’t that hard, then. “I am slowly beginning to understand that you love me and that you will never hurt me. I am afraid and shame suffocates me. I thought that… I was afraid that you would not react well, should I tell you to stop. *He* never stopped. *He* told me to be quiet and…”
Ereinion stroked the long hair and looked deeply into Lómion’s eyes. He could see the frightened child hidden away beneath the shy adult Elf. There was fear there – fear of the unknown. But there was also love and trust. “Aye, I love you, Lómion – just the way you are.”
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Ereinion woke in the middle of the night because he detected a third presence in the bedroom. He had always been a light sleeper and now that he was holding Lómion, he felt even more protective. He relaxed, finding Estë standing beside the bed. Her gray eyes spoke of understanding and wisdom and encouraged him to smile weakly at her.
“You were right,” she said, resting her hand on Lómion’s brow. “He is beginning to face his fears. And some of those fears concern you.” Her fingertips soothingly stroked the smooth skin and her lips whispered words of magic, ensuring Lómion would stay asleep.
“He never had a choice in the past,” said Ereinion in understanding.
Estë nodded once. “Eöl took what he wanted and paid no attention to his well-being. He never respected Lómion’s decisions – never allowed him to say ‘no’ to his advances. Lómion needs to know that you will. That he has a choice when he is with you. He has been putting you to the test, this one… and he will continue to do so for some time. You will have to prove your worth and your love to him.” Seeing Ereinion’s confident expression made her smile. “But you have nothing to fear, my child. For your love is true. Lómion merely needs time and the opportunity to convince himself that your feelings for him are genuine.” Estë caressed Lómion’s brow one more time and then took a step away from the bed. “He will continue to test you – and by doing so he will face himself.”
“I will be there for him for every step of the way.”
“I know you will.” Estë smiled. “He is very fortunate to have your love, Ereinion.”
“Nay,” said Ereinion. “I am blessed to have his.”
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The wolves came at night. Legolas and Melpomaen had been on the road for four weeks now and had fallen into a comfortable routine – too comfortable maybe, as they had dismissed building a fire to keep the wild beasts away. And the wolves thought them easy prey.
It was Legolas who noticed them first. It was a horde of six gray wolves, which moved soundlessly, and continued to close in on them. They didn’t howl, growl or make any unnecessary noise. They were stealthy and used the shelter of the night to corner the two Elves.
“They have taken in our scent,” said Legolas, handing his bow and arrows to Melpomaen. “Do you know how to defend yourself?” Melpomaen’s raised eyebrow told Legolas that he had practically insulted his lover.
“I might serve Elrond in the capacity of an advisor, but I do possess some weapons’ skill. You had better watch out for yourself!” Melpomaen wanted to feel peeved, but then realized that Legolas couldn’t know that he had been trained as a warrior once. It just showed how little they knew of each other.
“I did not mean to offend you,” offered Legolas, quickly uncovering his hunting knives as he had caught sight of the leader of the wolf pack. “There is much I still need to learn about you.”
Melpomaen nodded once, accepting his beloved’s apology. “We can worry about that after we dealt with them.” Normally, he wouldn’t worry about taking out a wolf, but there were six of them! He regretted speaking so harshly and tried making amends. “We should watch each other backs!”
Legolas immediately moved closer and they stood back to back. One wolf attacked from their right, another from the left, and a third leapt from the overhanging rock they were standing beneath. For the next few minutes, panting, growls and slashing sounds were heard. A howl announced the death of one wolf, but unfortunately he wasn’t the pack’s leader. The beasts were hungry and determined to feed tonight and it took a lot of the Elves’ energy to take them out.
Only two wolves were left now, and they bared their teeth, angry that the other members of their pack had been slaughtered. The leader risked one last attack and directed his assault at Melpomaen whilst the other surviving wolf kept Legolas busy.
Melpomaen aimed his arrow at the wolf’s eye and waited to shoot it, when Legolas unexpectedly crashed into him, sending bow and arrow flying into the air. He was wide open now and without a weapon. The wolf saw his chance and pounced on him.
Melpomaen’s scream echoed through the night, making the blood in Legolas’ veins freeze. The long knives ended the life of the wolf, who had dared to attack him and the Woodland Elf quickly turned around to aid Melpomaen. The sight that greeted him was horrid. The leader of the pack had buried his sharp teeth in Melpomaen’s shoulder and was literally flinging the Elf from side to side. Uttering a war cry, Legolas threw himself at the wolf and drove his knife into the beast’s chest, penetrating the heart and ending his life. The beast fell onto the ground, but the sharp fangs remained buried in Melpomaen’s shoulder.
Legolas sought out his beloved’s eyes and found them open
and clear. But there was pain as well, and that realization spurted him on into
action. “This will hurt,” he said, warning his beloved.
Melpomaen gritted his teeth, but in the end, he cried out and fainted. That made things easier on Legolas, who quickly freed Melpomaen from the wolf’s grip. He kicked at the corpse and the wolf rolled downhill. “Melethron?” Worried, he moved Melpomaen onto his back so he could examine the wound. But Melpomaen remained unconsciousness and Legolas quickly probed the wound. Ripping long strips from his traveling cloak, he improvised a bandage, which had to do for now. Once he had found shelter, he would wash the wound, dress it with the healing herbs he always carried with him and fix a better bandage. After pushing his hands beneath Melpomaen’s body, he lifted his beloved in his arms and carried him toward his horse, which nervously moved about. A few words soothed her and he placed Melpomaen onto his mare’s back. After sliding into position behind the injured Elf, Legolas told the mare to get moving.
Finding proper shelter took him almost an hour, but then he spotted a cave. He dismounted and carried Melpomaen inside. He cut away most of the shirt Melpomaen was wearing and carefully washed the wound. Legolas opened the pouch he carried hanging from his belt, and selected the herbs which would disinfect the wound. Whilst pressing the herbs close to the wound, he used a spare set of leggings – which Melpomaen himself had supplied him with when he had prepared for departure – and used the fabric to bandage the shoulder. Satisfied with his handiwork, he lowered Melpomaen onto the ground again. He covered his beloved with their traveling cloaks, which would keep him warm. Knowing there was nothing more he could do, he got to his feet to keep watch. No foul beast would surprise them again. He would make certain that his beloved slept undisturbed.
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Erestor felt restless, and once Glorfindel had fallen asleep, he left their bed and headed for the gardens. There would be no sleep for him tonight. Something was amiss.
“Stop worrying, Erestor. Your hands are bound at any rate.”
Erestor slowly turned around to face his father, who was leaning against an old oak tree. “I was hoping you would seek me out.”
“I felt your need of me,” replied Námo, advancing on his son. He opened his arms and buried his son in a fatherly hug. “You worry too much.”
It had been a long time since his father had held him and Erestor leaned heavily against him, letting go of the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. He entrusted himself to his father and felt like a child again.
Sensing his son’s needs, Námo tightened the hold. “What worries you?”
“I do not know… Everything seems fine… Elrond has his little family and they are happy. Lindir finds pleasure in singing for the twins and Glorfindel loves me, but…” There was something that worried him.
“’Tis Melpomaen,” supplied Námo.
Erestor’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look up. He savored being held and wished his father would never let go. “It is?”
“Legolas and he ran into a pack of wolves and Melpomaen was injured in the fight.” Erestor tensed against him and Námo reacted by stroking his son’s back. “He did not receive a lethal injury. Melpomaen will grow strong again in Mirkwood. Thranduil will see to that.”
Erestor relaxed. “Aye, you are right. I worry about Melpomaen. I will never have any children of my own and Melpomaen woke fatherly feelings in me.” He chuckled. “He used to fuss over me when I first came to Imladris, but things changed.”
Námo moved away from Erestor, breaking the embrace. After placing a finger beneath his son’s chin, he lifted Erestor’s head so they made eye contact. “Your mother and I miss you. Even the souls miss you.”
Guilt clawed at Erestor. “I am sorry, but… but I am happy here. I love Glorfindel.” He moistened his lips and then said, “Please tell mother that I love her.”
“She knows,” replied Námo, smiling ruefully.
Erestor managed a smile in turn. “How does Ecthelion fare?”
“Elrohir has been born, hasn’t he?” said Námo, cryptically. “Or have you forgotten your visions?”
“Elrohir?” Erestor sucked in his breath in sudden understanding. “Aye, Elrohir! But Elrohir is alive and Ecthelion… Will you allow him to be reborn?”
Námo caressed his son’s face. “There are parts of the future that you are not supposed to know, my son.” That was his way of telling Erestor that he wouldn’t answer that question. /Your vow to protect Elrohir will come back to haunt you and you will be forced to repeat the decision you made in Gondolin… Hopefully for the better this time./
Erestor saw his father’s thoughtful expression and knew he was missing something, but he also realized that Námo wouldn’t confide in him. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to know. “I need to return to Glorfindel now.”
Námo nodded once and pressed a parental kiss onto Erestor’s brow. “Go to him, my son.”
“Thank you for coming to me, Ada3.” His father might delight in manipulating him at times, but Námo was always there for him when he needed him the most.
Námo released Erestor from the embrace and watched his son return to the Last Homely House.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now that he was already in Imladris, Námo decided to make a detour to the nursery. The Vala looked into the crib and smiled, finding the twins hugging each other. Although they were supposed to sleep separately, Elrohir had taken to climbing into Elladan’s cradle each night.
“Wake up, pen neth4.” Námo’s fingertips brushed Elrohir’s brow and the dark, gray eyes opened. They widened and stared at him with wonder. “Nay, you do not know me, so allow me to introduce myself. I am Námo, and I will always be a friend to you. Our paths will cross in the future.” His gaze drifted off to Elladan. “This one will be your death, pen neth, but do not feel sad because of that. For your death will lead you to love.”
Elrohir stared at the stranger, barely comprehending what the other person was saying.
“Sleep now, Elrohir, and dream of your love.” Námo leaned in closer and his chilly lips brushed across Elrohir’s brow. “Dream of Ecthelion.”
A moment later, the gray eyes closed and Elrohir was soundly asleep again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melpomaen blinked, waking up after what could only be described as a hellish night. His eyes searched his surroundings and he panicked, finding Legolas gone. Where had his beloved gone? He had to find him! Melpomaen tried pushing himself upright, but had to give up as blinding pain moved through his arm, shoulder and back. His memories returned to him, showing him the wolves’ attack and how he had gotten injured. But that still didn’t explain Legolas’ absence.
“I am here, meleth,” said Legolas, kneeling at his beloved’s side. He had stood guard during the remainder of the night, and once he was certain that no danger was near, he had gone hunting. He had shot two rabbits, had found fresh water and upon his return to the cave, he had built a fire to roast the rabbits. “Do not try to move about too much.”
Melpomaen moistened his lips. “What… happened?”
“One wolf managed to get his fangs into you. I cleaned and bandaged your shoulder.” His main concern now was to fight off infection. “We will leave tomorrow. I want you to rest for now.”
Melpomaen nodded, absentmindedly. Aye, he remembered the way the fangs had pierced his shoulder. “Are we… safe… here?”
Legolas smiled. “Aye, we are.” Then the smile vanished. “I was so worried about you!”
Melpomaen raised his good arm and touched Legolas’ face. “I do not die… that easily – especially now… that I have… you to fight for.”
Those words made Legolas smile and he leaned in closer to steal a kiss from Melpomaen’s lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning Legolas helped Melpomaen sit upright. He then checked the wound and his features contorted, finding the first signs on infection.
“How bad is it?” asked Melpomaen, who had felt Legolas tense against him.
“It has grown infected,” replied Legolas. He raised his head and made eye contact with his beloved. “If we speed up, we can reach my father’s realm tomorrow night. He is a renowned healer and knows best how to treat this bite.”
“But that means leaving now,” said Melpomaen, who felt alarmingly weak. “I am not certain I can remain astride.”
“I will hold you tight,” promised Legolas.
“Let us do it then.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They rode nonstop for the next thirty-six hours, Legolas driving his horse to maximum speed, as Melpomaen grew increasingly hotter against him. The fever had taken hold of the advisor, making him sweat and mumble unintelligibly. This wasn’t the way Legolas had envisioned their arrival in Mirkwood!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sire, the guards have sighted Legolas. But he is not alone.” Landiant, the King’s Captain, searched Thranduil’s features for any indication how their ruler was taking this news. “Legolas is not riding alone. A dark-haired Elf sits in front of him and appears injured. His shoulder is heavily bandaged.”
Thranduil, seated upon the chair that his subjects had affectionately nicknamed his throne, stapled his fingers and looked thoughtfully at Landiant. “A Noldorin Elf?”
“It would appear so, but I cannot be completely certain.” Landiant looked warmly at their King. Thranduil’s ‘throne room’ was the smallest room the talan had to offer and the furniture nothing more than oak wood; although masterly carved it didn’t breathe Imladris’ or Lothlórien’s air of splendor.
“And this Elf is injured? But my son is not?” Thranduil felt ill at ease at receiving this news. When Legolas had left for Imladris he had been alone and now he returned with a Noldo? What had happened in these last few months? “Bring them before me. I will be in the healing rooms.”
Landiant nodded once and bowed. He left the talan and joined the guards.
Thranduil remained in his rooms a little longer. He rose from his chair, walked toward his desk, filled with the correspondence he carried on with Erestor, Elrond’s Chief Advisor, and wondered if sending his son to Imladris had been a mistake. Legolas was all the family he had left and he wouldn’t survive losing him to Imladris and those Noldorin Elves!
But, there was only one way to find out what had happened – by questioning his son. Thranduil left his rooms and joined the healers. Knowing Legolas, his son would insist that *he* look after the injured Elf personally.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas felt relieved, seeing Landiant and the guards approach. He had felt eyes upon him for a few miles now and had hoped they would show themselves. “Landiant, I need to take Melpomaen to the healers.”
“Your father already awaits you. Follow me.” Landiant steered his horse closer to Legolas’ and watched the two Elves. “Did you bring us a gift?”
Legolas gave the other Elf a rueful look. Landiant was a friend and he trusted the Captain. Whenever Thranduil had been called away on matters of state, Landiant had kept him company. The fair-haired and green-eyed Captain was someone he would even entrust Melpomaen too. Landiant wasn’t like the other Elves, who always gave him disdainful looks. The fact that he had been born out of wedlock put everyone in an awkward position. Had he been Thranduil’s legitimate son they would have addressed him as their Prince and obeyed his every command – but not now.
“Legolas?” Landiant had seen the worried expression in the sky-blue eyes.
“Aye, Melpomaen is a true gift. I will explain this to you later, but first, my father and the healers need to examine him.” He was grateful that Melpomaen had lost consciousness some time ago for now he was spared the looks of contempt thrown at them.
As they had reached the talan that housed the healers, Landiant dismounted first. He caught Melpomaen in his arms when Legolas lowered the injured Elf from the horse. “What happened?”
“A pack of wolves attacked and succeeded in injuring him. Please hand him back to me.” Legolas accepted Melpomaen into his arms again and followed Landiant up into the talan. “The wound has become infected and a fever has taken him.”
Thranduil stood in the doorway, ready to welcome his son home, but the words wouldn’t come to him, as he laid eyes upon his son’s troubled expression. Legolas looked tired, and his clothes had been torn in what had apparently been a fight.
“
Thranduil bit down any questions he might have, and gestured for his son to follow him inside. “Place him on the bed.”
Landiant remained standing in the doorway, just in case an argument might arise whilst father and son needed someone to act as a mediator. He had performed that duty before, on many occasions. Both Elves had a temper, which showed Legolas was truly Thranduil’s son – in more ways than one.
Legolas placed Melpomaen on the bed and then stepped back. “I cleaned and bound the wound, but it grew infected at any rate. I do not know what I did wrong.” He fought the urge to wring his hands, as he knew that such behavior would make it apparent to his father and the healers just how much he cared for Melpomaen. He had planned on breaking the news to his father slowly and gently – not like this.
Thranduil used a pair of scissors to cut away the bandage. Once the wound was bared to him, he hissed. “Infected indeed. What animal did this?”
“A wolf.” Legolas’ mouth went dry, seeing the infected, partly blackened flesh so close to the bite. “Can you help him?”
Thranduil nodded and told the healers which herbs to fetch. He had trained most of them and they obeyed without questioning him. A bowl of warm water was brought and Thranduil took his time, washing the wound. “You did everything right,” he said, trying to reassure his son, who looked guilty and restless. He crushed the herbs the healers had brought him and mixed those juices with the water. He rinsed the wound a second time and some of the filth came loose.
After putting away the now dirty water, Thranduil used a small knife to open the wound. Behind him, Legolas groaned, softly. “Take heart, my son. Your friend is unconscious and does not feel any pain.” Puss poured from the wound and Thranduil waited until it stopped leaking. He then smeared a thick cream onto the wound and bandaged the shoulder. “I will check on him on the hour,” he announced, leaving Melpomaen in the care of the healers. They would dress him in clean clothes and take him to a warm, clean bed.
“Legolas, I want a word with you.” Thranduil had registered
Legolas’ increasing nervousness and paleness and wondered about him. “Landiant,
I want you to watch over our guest.” It was a precaution. Some of the older
Woodland Elves, who had survived the battles at the foot of
Landiant inclined his head. “I will keep him safe.”
Satisfied that Melpomaen was in the best hands, Legolas walked over to his father and fell into step beside Thranduil as his father led him outside. They stood beneath the tree’s ancient branches and Legolas couldn’t help feeling jumpy and cornered. He hadn’t realized how much he dreaded telling his father that Melpomaen was more than just a friend.
“Sit with me.” Thranduil climbed up the branches of a mighty oak and settled on the highest limb.
Legolas followed his father and sat down beside him. They had started doing this when he had been an Elfling. He had loved to climb the trees and his father had accompanied him to make sure he didn’t venture too high or too far away. “This reminds me of…”
Thranduil smiled and placed a hand on his son’s knee. “We spent many happy hours climbing these branches, my son.” Thranduil drew in a deep breath and let love guide him. “You seem nervous.”
“That is because I am!” His tone was a bit too high-pitched and he shot his father an alarmed look. “There is something very important I need to tell you.”
Thranduil’s heart missed a beat. “Does it have something to do with this injured Elf?”
“Aye, it has everything to do with Melpomaen.
Realizing he was causing Legolas pain, Thranduil snatched his hand away. “I forbid it. No son of mine will bind with a Noldo!”
Legolas had expected that reaction, but it still hurt. “
“You have only known him for a few months! How can you say that it is love?” Thranduil glared at his son. “My word is final, Legolas. Your ‘friend’ will return to Imladris once he has recovered. He is not welcome here.”
“Then you will have to send me away with him, for I refuse to stay here without him!” Legolas had raised his voice and knew it would only enrage his father further, but at that moment, he really didn’t care. “Who are you to tell me who I can love and who not?”
“I am your father, Legolas, and you are to respect me and my decisions!”
Both Elves jumped to their feet and were glaring at each other.
“Why? You do not respect my choices!” Legolas wasn’t going to give in. He knew from personal experience that his father would calm down. He just had to ride out this storm and seek Thranduil out once the storm had settled. “I am returning to his side now!”
“I forbid you to have any contact with him!” Thranduil’s eyes shot daggers and his hair danced wildly against the small of his back. His lithe form breathed energy and liquidity. A stranger could have mistaken them for brothers – maybe even twins, so alike were they in appearance and temperament.
“You cannot forbid me that!” Legolas proudly raised his head, glared at his father and then turned on his heel, climbed down the tree and marched back to the healing rooms.
Thranduil remained behind, fuming and enraged. “I am your father! You owe me your obedience!” But Legolas was already gone.
“You did it again, sire.” Avoralas, Thranduil’s Chief Advisor, and trusted friend, looked up from the ground. “Why don’t you come down here and we will discuss the matter?”
Thranduil growled. “I do not want to talk about it. It is a private matter!”
“Come now, sire. You know you will feel better once we’ve talked.” Avoralas wasn’t intimidated, in the least by Thranduil’s temper. He had served Thranduil’s father, Oropher, and the former King’s temper had been much worse than Thranduil’s. This was one storm he knew how to best. “Come down here, sire.” It did help that he had been Thranduil’s tutor when the King had been just an Elfling.
Muttering beneath his breath, Thranduil climbed down and landed beside Avoralas. “As I said before, I do not want to discuss this.”
“Walk with me, sire, and tell me what it is that so upset you. Is it because your son has finally taken a lover? A male lover?” Avoralas knew exactly what had enraged Thranduil, but also knew how to play his King best.
“I do not care whether his lover is male or female! You should know me better than that!” Thranduil’s loud voice carried far, and most of the Woodland Elves made way for their King, knowing to avoid him when he was in such a foul mood.
“Then what is the matter, sire?” Avoralas tenderly smiled at his former pupil. Thranduil was always so easy to read!
“Why did he have to fall for a Noldo?” Thranduil glared at his old friend and the smile that greeted him only fed his rage. “Oh, you find this amusing?”
The time had come to placate the King and Avoralas stopped walking. He placed his hands on Thranduil’s shoulders and turned him around so they were face to face. “Do not force Legolas to repeat your mistakes, pen neth.” He kept Thranduil in place when the King tried to walk away. “You fell in love with a Noldorin Elf over half a century ago and she loved you too, sire. She left her people to live here, with you. But you failed to commit to her and she left after delivering Legolas.”
“She…” Thranduil fought to control his angry breathing. He hadn’t been prepared for Avoralas to bring this up now.
“I must admit that you did well, sire, never putting any blame on her. You taught Legolas to love a mother who was not there. He thinks of her fondly, but the things that you did are unforgivable. Had you had the courage to commit to her and to make her your wife, Legolas would have been your legitimate heir and he would have had two loving parents instead of one. But nay, you chased his mother away.”
“She is a Noldo! Like Melpomaen!”
“Ah, and now we are back to Legolas, sire.” Avoralas loved Thranduil like the son he had never had, but Thranduil’s stubbornness would one day be the death of him! “Haven’t you learned from your mistakes? Do you really want Legolas to suffer your fate? For don’t you still love her?”
Thranduil lowered his eyes, feeling ashamed. “I do.”
Avoralas shook his head. “My son, why don’t you end your suffering? And Legolas’? Why don’t you seek Elluin out and make amends? It is not too late to ask for her hand in marriage.”
“She would never accept me after the way I treated her.” Thranduil hung his head in shame. “I was so angry back then.”
“Understandably so. You had lost your father and most of your people in that battle. But I told you before and I tell you again now, your father made a mistake in judgment and attacked too early. You cannot blame the Noldor instead.”
“Why are we discussing this?”
Avoralas noticed that Thranduil’s entire demeanor had changed. The King was nervously shuffling his feet and felt too shy to meet his gaze. “Because I do not want your son to suffer because of your mistakes. Why not give Melpomaen and Legolas time? Why not get to know your son’s chosen one? You might even like him!”
”He is a Noldo.”
“So what, sire?” Avoralas drew Thranduil close for a fatherly embrace. “Or is it because he hails from Imladris, where your love resides? Are you afraid of the news he might bring? Are you scared that she found someone else to love and bind herself to?”
“I forfeited the right to claim her as my own many decades ago.” Thranduil drew in a deep breath. “It was when Legolas was placed in my arms that I realized what a fool I had been, but by then, it was too late already. Elluin had left.”
“And for many years you did not know where to find her. But your spies eventually did and told you that she resides in Imladris. What is stopping you from claiming her as your wife? Don’t you believe that Legolas has the right to know that his mother is alive?”
Thranduil felt confused. How had they gotten to this point? Hadn’t they merely been discussing Melpomaen? “I need to give this matter some thought.” He pulled away from Avoralas, needing the distance between them.
“Even if you cannot convince yourself to go after the mother of your son, please do not make Legolas pay for your shortcomings. If their love is true, allow for them to bind,” advised Avoralas.
“I will think about it,” repeated Thranduil, who turned and walked away from his friend and confidant. Aye, he had a lot of thinking to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ereinion frowned; sleep was still heavy in his eyes, but he was awake enough to realize that Lómion had left their bed during the night. A very emotional night! Concerned, Ereinion wondered where Lómion had gone. He rose from the bed, dressed, and left the bedroom. On his way out, he found a note, pinned to the doorframe.
I apologize for my behavior last night. Upon waking, I
found that I wanted to be alone and I left for a walk in the gardens. Please do
not come after me. Allow me to sort out my thoughts and my emotions. I still
feel ashamed for what I did last night and I need… I do not know what I need,
but hopefully I will find out. I will return when Ithil rises in the sky.
Lómion
This development worried Ereinion, but he also knew that nothing evil lingered in Lórien’s gardens and that Lómion was safe here. Crushing the note in his hand, he wondered what to do until nightfall. This would be one of the longest days ever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That evening, loud cursing drew his attention. Ereinion went outside and scanned the gardens with his sharp Elven eyes. It didn’t take him long to make out Lómion’s swaying form. His beloved’s walk was unsteady; his head bowed and in his hand was a bottle of wine Lórien had placed in their cupboards during one of his visits. /Oh no, you did not drink the entire bottle, did you?/ Drowning his fears in wine wouldn’t do and Ereinion quickly advanced on Lómion. “Meleth? I am glad you returned to me.”
Lómion released a bitter laugh. “Meleth, he calls me when it is nothing but a lie!”
/Oh, he is definitely drunk!/ Ereinion’s heart missed a beat, seeing the lost expression in Lómion’s gaze when the dark eyes met his. /I should have gone after him the moment I found that note./
“I am not your beloved, Ereinion! I am… I do not know what I am! But not your lover!” Lómion collapsed onto his knees and flung the empty bottle far away from him. “A lover does not flinch when his beloved touches him! Does not offer himself in the hope he will be rejected. I…” Fat tears slid down from his lashes and he felt too embarrassed to face Ereinion and he closed his eyes. “I am a failure! I failed everyone! I failed you, I failed my mother… I failed myself! How can you love me when I do not even love myself?”
Ereinion, kneeling in front of Lómion, nodded once. “Isn’t that the heart of the matter, meleth? You still hate yourself for what happened in the past. But the past is gone. You served your sentence and the punishment has ended. Even the Valar want you to enjoy life again. To live the life you never were able to.”
“But how can you love me?” Lómion’s big eyes searched Ereinion’s. “Why don’t you look at me with loathing? You *know* what Eöl did to me. You know how he used my body for his pleasure. How can I ever derive pleasure from such an act? How can I love you?”
Ereinion knew what he had to do, but the question was; was Lómion strong enough to understand? Lómion’s lips parted to voice more doubts, more self-loathing, but Ereinion prevented those words from spilling by kissing him sweetly. Lómion tasted of wine and sadness, and the frantic movements stilled beneath the kiss. Ereinion placed every ounce of his love into that kiss, hoping Lómion would sense how sincere and dedicated his love was.
Ereinion’s kiss took Lómion aback, as he never expected such a reaction, and in his surprise, he yielded. He loved Ereinion, even though he couldn’t love himself. Maybe, through Ereinion’s love he could learn to love himself?
Ereinion smiled into their kiss and wrapped his arms around Lómion. If taking this step now was so important to his beloved, he would guide them through it. His hands found their way beneath the shirt, and he tugged at it, until the fabric came free. “Raise your arms.”
Why he obeyed, he didn’t know, but Lómion did and Ereinion removed the shirt.
Ereinion continued to pepper Lómion’s skin with kisses and his lips traveled lower. He showered the smooth skin with licks, kisses and playful nips, until he reached a nipple, which was already hard. Closing his lips over it, he suckled gently and felt Lómion rock against him.
Wide-eyed, Lómion stared at Ereinion. What was the other Elf doing? No, correction, why was he doing this? “Ereinion?”
Ereinion let the hard nub of flesh slip from his lips and looked playfully at Lómion. “I asked you to call me your beloved. Will you?”
Breathless, Lómion nodded, feeling Ereinion’s nimble fingers undo the lacing of his leggings. “Why are you doing this?”
Ereinion pushed down the fabric until Lómion’s erection was freed and he took the engorged flesh into hand, stroking it lightly and always keeping in mind how special he wanted this to be for his lover. “Because I love you.” He considered pushing Lómion onto his back, but then decided against it. His lover had been in submissive positions too many times in his life. “Stand for a moment, meleth.”
Unable to deny Ereinion his request, he got to his feet and watched, quite entranced, as Ereinion encouraged him to step out of his boots and leggings. Naked now, he covered his private parts.
Ereinion licked his lips and gently guided Lómion’s hands onto his shoulders. “You can trust me, meleth.”
Lómion nodded once. Butterflies’ wings tickled his insides and his eyes went impossibly big, finding Ereinion leaning in closer and licking his erection. “This is the first… time… ever…” he mumbled, feeling insecure and embarrassed for stuttering.
“Then enjoy it,
“This cannot be happening… it cannot…” whispered Lómion, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ereinion’s bobbing head. Fingers wrapped themselves around his member, stroking once more and he threw back his head at the divine sensation spreading throughout his body. His knees almost gave out beneath him and he was grateful that his hands already rested on Ereinion’s shoulders, as it was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
Ereinion tried to remember every little detail that had given Lindir pleasure in the past, and he alternated pressure and pace, bringing Lómion to orgasm by taking him deeply into his throat and humming softly. The seed that erupted from the slit tasted slightly bitter, but he swallowed it. Lómion’s right hand slipped from his shoulder and wrapped itself in strands of his hair. The fingers contracted, pulling painfully at his hair, but he ignored it and allowed Lómion to thrust, spilling his last droplets of cream. His beloved swayed on his feet and began to tumble. Ereinion acted quickly by letting the now sated flesh slip from his lips and he caught Lómion. Lowering him onto his knees, they knelt facing each other and he rested his brow against Lómion’s sweaty forehead. His lover’s brown eyes were filled with something he had never seen before. “I love you.”
Something inside Lómion shifted into place. Old hurt was undone and sad pain lessened by Ereinion’s unselfish deed. “I love you, Ereinion.”
The fact that Lómion pulled him even closer and wrapped his arms strongly around him, surprised Ereinion, and he smiled against a bare shoulder. “I love you, Lómion. I love who you are – every aspect of you.”
“I understand that – for the very first time, I really understand what you are saying.” Lómion held Ereinion as close as possible and he knew his next words were important as they would show what he had learned. “I will be myself from this moment on. I will stop hiding and pretending. I trust in you and our love, meleth.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From a distance, and unnoticed by the two Elves, three of the Valar watched the couple.
“You did well, sending him here,” said Lórien, addressing his brother.
Námo nodded. “Vairë and I waited for so long for someone to come to the Halls who would see Lómion and not Maeglin.”
Estë smiled, kindly. “His wounds are healing. Some of the most severe damage Eöl did has been undone by Ereinion’s love. Lómion has come out of this stronger.”
“It is Ereinion’s love for Lómion that made this all possible,” said Námo, thoughtfully.
“They will be happy here,” said Lórien, musing loudly. “And when Lómion has completely healed they will join the other Elves living here in Aman.”
“That won’t happen for some time, husband-mine,” said Estë. “Lómion has begun to heal, but is far from being the Elf he is supposed to be.”
Námo fondly looked at Lómion and Ereinion. The former King supported Lómion as they made their way inside of the cottage. /Lómion has suffered enough – love and happiness will be his part for the rest of his life./
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melpomaen’s eyes fluttered and then opened. Tiredly, he looked about. “Le… go…las?” Was his beloved close?
“I am here, melethron.” Legolas, seated on the side of Melpomaen’s bed, moved closer so his beloved could see him. “You are still feverish and you should rest, not struggle to remain awake.” The eyelids were closing once more.
“Where… am…I?” His shoulder felt like it was on fire and sleep was pulling him back under. It was a healing sleep and he knew he should not fight it at all, but looking at Legolas, and hearing his voice was more important.
“We are home, Melpomaen. We reached Mirkwood and the healers are looking after you.” Landiant stood in the corner of the room. Legolas had tried dismissing him, but the Captain took his orders very serious and Thranduil had ordered him to watch over Melpomaen. Fortunately, the Captain gave them some privacy, by not getting involved in their conversation.
“And your father… did not… throw me… out?”
“He almost did,” said Legolas, teasingly. But the conversation with his father weighed heavily on his mind. He could only hope his father would calm down and warm up to Melpomaen. “But he could not dismiss an injured Elf, now could he? He attended to your injury himself.”
“He did?” That surprised Melpomaen. “Sleepy,” he said, losing the fight to stay awake.
“Then go back to sleep.” Legolas used a damp cloth to wipe the cold sweat from Melpomaen’s brow and gave his beloved a look filled with love and affection. He bent forward and placed a kiss on Melpomaen’s lips.
Melpomaen fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Landiant chuckled, softly. “You are in love, my Prince.”
Legolas nodded once. Landiant was one of the few Elves who addressed him in that way. He had tried breaking Landiant of that habit, but the Captain was most stubborn. “Love took me by surprise, Landiant. I never expected to find love in Imladris.”
Landiant held his tongue, knowing better than to tell Legolas that Thranduil had loved a Noldorin Elf once. He might not agree with his King in certain matters, but he would always respect Thranduil’s decisions. “Do not worry about your father, Legolas. He will calm down. You know what he is like. He is easily enraged.”
“So am I.” Legolas’ gaze remained trained on Melpomaen. “I
owe my father an apology in turn.”
Landiant smiled. “Why don’t you seek him out now? I will remain at your beloved’s side.”
Legolas looked up then, and gave his old friend a
questioning look. “You are not prejudiced when it comes to Noldorin Elves like
my father and the rest of our people. Why is that? You fought at the
Landiant cocked his head. “I have learned that it is wrong to generalize, my Prince.” He walked toward the bed and sat down opposite Legolas. “I was wounded when we fought Sauron. I was left on the battlefield. So many of our people had died and I was convinced I would die as well.”
Interested, Legolas waited for Landiant to continue his tale. The Captain had never told him any of this before!
“As a warrior, I accepted death and was ready to enter the Halls of Waiting, but my body endured, fighting death. I faced a very slow, very painful death, but then…”
“What happened?” Legolas shifted on the edge of the bed – curious and in need to learn more.
“A soldier found me. A Noldorin soldier -- his name was Celach. He served the High-King and he took care of me. I was too weak to walk and he stayed with me until I was strong enough to be carried back to the camp. He chased off the animals that tried to feed off of me, and the Orcs, who realized I was still alive. He shared his rations and water with me and he talked to me.” Landiant smiled, sadly, at reliving the memories. “At first I wanted him to leave – after all, he belonged to the Noldor, but little by little, I understood how wrong I was. In that short time, we became friends. And he carried me back to our camp. He saved me… Without him, my soul would dwell in the Halls of Waiting.” Landiant studied Melpomaen’s features. “Your beloved reminds me of him – he has the same dark hair and brown eyes, which so many Noldor possess.”
“I am glad that Melpomaen has a friend in you.” Legolas got to his feet, needing to talk to his father about his beloved. “He will need you.”
“You might be surprised to learn that he will have more friends that just one.” Landiant smiled, conspiringly. “There are some among us that view the Noldor as friends.” Hopefully, Legolas would learn that truth from Thranduil as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I cannot sleep,” whispered Lómion. Ereinion had made him drink several cups of herbal tea, which had taken the sting out of the wine. No longer drunk, he realized how badly he had behaved, but Ereinion had made it all better. His lover had not made him feel ashamed, had even made love to him. They lay facing each other, arms and legs wrapped around each other.
“I cannot sleep either,” admitted Ereinion. “Maybe we should
go for a
Lómion considered this. “I like it here... In bed, with you holding me.”
“We can do that after our swim,” said Ereinion, chuckling softly.
Lómion nodded his head once. “Let us go outside then.” Reluctantly, he let go of his lover and followed Ereinion downstairs, all the while admiring the way the muscles moved beneath his lover’s smooth skin.
Ereinion felt his beloved’s eyes upon him, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he waded into the stream. He relaxed his body and floated in the water, face up. “Join me, meleth.”
Lómion swam toward Ereinion and studied his lover. Ever since suffering that emotional breakdown he felt much more at ease around the former king. “Can I ask you something personal?”
Lómion’s question broke his concentration and Ereinion turned in the water. Swimming toward Lómion, he nodded once. “What do you wish to know?”
“You said that you would love me even if we were never intimate…” Lómion realized he could stand in the water and stopped swimming. “I have a hard time accepting that.”
Ereinion found his footing as well and stood in front of his beloved. “I meant it.”
“I know you did… The thing is; I feel conflicted. I want us to be intimate, but…” How to explain to Ereinion that he didn’t think he could ever be on the receiving end again?
Ereinion moistened his lips. “I think I know what worries you, meleth.”
Taking a leap of faith, Lómion admitted his fears. “I still remember the humiliation and the pain I suffered at Eöl’s hands. The way he would push me down and force himself inside of me. It hurt.”
Ereinion understood. He raised his right hand and twirled a lock of Lómion’s hair around the tip. “I would never demand that from you. I would have you take me, Lómion.”
“But…” Reminding himself that things had changed and that he could discuss this with Ereinion, Lómion added, “But then you would be in pain and I do not want that either.”
Ereinion caressed the tip of Lómion’s pointed ear. “I won’t be in any pain – some mild discomfort at first, but that would be about it. I will show you how to properly prepare me. We will take our time. It will be quite different from what you experienced.”
Lómion blushed and moaned, softly, reacting to the sensual caress Ereinion was bestowing on him. He hadn’t known just how sensitive the tip of his ear was!
“But you should not worry about that right now.” Ereinion drew Lómion in for a slow kiss.
Lómion went willingly, savoring the kiss and the caresses, and for the first time in his life, he realized love would never hurt him. Hate had hurt him. Eöl had hurt him. Things had changed; Ereinion would teach him what it was like to make love and he felt confident that he would be strong enough to take that step when that day came.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“
“I am trying to make up my mind.” Avoralas’ words had truly made him think. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make amends to Legolas and his mother. But would she give him the chance to explain?
“What about,
Thranduil sighed and placed the quill aside. The letter had to wait. “Legolas, we need to talk.”
Legolas seated himself opposite his father, relieved to find Thranduil calm and controlled. “Aye, we do, but first I would like to apologize for my tone earlier. I am not taking back what I said, but my tone was disrespectful.”
“You inherited my temper,” said Thranduil, leaning back into the comfort of the chair. “I should have told you this when you came of age, but I was a coward… I still am.”
Legolas tensed; what was his father referring to? And why did it worry him? “Does this have anything to do with Melpomaen? And my love for him?”
“After a fashion,” said Thranduil cryptically. He wanted to
lean forward and capture his son’s hand in his, but fought that urge. It was
better to maintain some distance. “My story starts over five decades ago, at
that fated battle at
Legolas frowned; he hadn’t expected to hear this. He had expected his father to lecture him about the evil of the Noldo!
“The day we arrived, your grandfather decided that we weren’t to mingle with the other Elves and most certainly not the Men. So we made camp far away from the main encampment. But I was curious and disobeyed my father, who had forbidden me to seek contact with the Noldor.” A fond smile surfaced on his face. “You and I are not that much different, Legolas. I defied my father as well.”
An equally fond smile surfaced on Legolas’ face. “Please continue.”
“I snuck out of our camp and into that of the Noldor. I had dressed myself in a dark cloak and put up the hood so no one would recognize me. That was when I met your mother.”
Legolas’ heart stopped beating for precious moments. “My mother? But…” His father had told him that Elluin had died in child birth, that she had given her life to save his and Thranduil had been very clear that he should never feel guilty because of that. It had been his mother’s choice to sacrifice her life for him. He had always loved her, although death had taken her away from him too early in life. Then, he registered the next shocking bit of information. “You met her in the camp of the Noldor? But then… then…”
“Aye, your mother belongs to the Noldor.” Thranduil steeled himself for his son’s reaction, which wouldn’t be pretty once Legolas realized he had used the present tense and not the past tense. “It was love at first sight. Elluin and I continued to meet after that first evening and our love deepened. I loved her so much that I was more than ready to face Oropher’s wrath and to make her mine, but then…”
“What happened?” Entranced, Legolas looked toward his father for answers.
“My father decided to attack early and the Noldor did not cover our backs. So many died… including my father. I went mad with grief and an insane hatred overwhelmed me. I gathered what remained of our people and I guided them home.”
“And… my mother? What happened to Elluin?” His father had never told him that she was a Noldo!
Thranduil sighed, feeling utterly ashamed of his past actions. “She was a warrior, and fought bravely. She survived and when the war was over, she found herself with child – you.”
Legolas could no longer sit quiet and jumped to his feet. Pacing the room, he gestured wildly. “And you had left?”
“She found me. She traveled to Mirkwood and told me she had conceived.” Thranduil bowed his head in shame. “I am not proud of the way I acted back then, Legolas. But I had just lost my father and most of our people and I blamed the Noldor for failing us. They had not come to our rescue. I was insane with grief and hatred.”
Legolas turned around, advanced on the desk and leaned forward, placing his hands palms down on the desk. “What did you do?” He was doing his best to keep his temper in check!
“I told her she could stay, which she did. My best healers took care of her and when you were born, I looked into your eyes and I instantly loved you.”
Legolas’ expression hardened. “Did my mother die in childbirth as you told me?”
“Nay, she survived. She rocked you in her arms and kissed your brow. She counted your fingers and toes and told you she would always love you.”
“You lied to me!”
“I did…”
“Why? And where is my mother now?” Legolas felt adrift.
“She did not stay. Never once did she ask me to marry her – to bind with her. She probably knew how deep my hatred ran at that moment. One morning, her rooms were empty and her personal belongings gone. I found a note, in which she entrusted you to my care. She wrote that she could not stay.” Thranduil laughed, bitterly. “She knew I could not love her the way I should. My hatred kept me from admitting my love to her. I could not commit to her! She was a Noldorin Elf.”
Legolas almost slapped his father, but controlled his rage. The things that Thranduil had told him angered him and he wanted to yell at his father.
Sensing his son’s pent up frustration and anger, Thranduil’s voice softened. “I did my best – raising and loving you. I always made sure you loved your mother and that no one spoke badly of her, as I would not have it.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Legolas’ hands had become fists.
“Melpomaen’s presence brought it all back and forced me to face my mistakes.”
“Am I a mistake then?” Legolas’ eyes showed hurt and rage.
“Nay, never. The mistake I was referring to was letting my hatred separate me from your mother.”
“Did you love her?”
“Aye, I did… and I think I still do.”
Legolas’ jaw dropped. “She is still alive then? She is alive and you never told me?”
“Elluin returned to her kin after giving birth to you. She now resides in Imladris.”
Legolas lost control and slapped his father – hard. “My mother is in Imladris and you did not tell me whilst you sent me there? I could have met with her! Spoken with her! Embraced her! And you kept this from me?”
The skin on Thranduil’s face where Legolas’ hand had struck reddened. Using every ounce of his self-discipline, he forced himself to accept the blow and not to react to it in a volatile way. He remained calm and said, “I deserved that, aye.”
“You did not answer my question!” Legolas practically shouted the words at him.
Thranduil flinched. “It never crossed my mind to tell you.”
Legolas shook his head in disbelief. “And you claim you love me? How do you show that love, then? By keeping me away from my mother? I forgave you that I was born out of wedlock. That most of your subjects look at me with disdain and contempt. I forgave you that I am not your legitimate son, but I do not know if I can ever forgive you for this!” Legolas knew he had to leave, had to get away from his father before his temper would get the better of him and he marched toward the doorway. “The next time I visit Imladris I will seek out my mother and tell her what you did!” Legolas flung the door shut on his way out.
“Maybe I should not have told you the truth,” whispered Thranduil, feeling miserable.
“Nay, sire. You did the right thing.” Avoralas, who had heard their yelling, entered the King’s chambers and walked toward Thranduil. “Legolas needed to hear the truth.”
“What good did it do us?” Thranduil lifted swimming eyes. “Avoralas, why did you offer me such bad counsel?”
“Your son is much like you, sire,” said Avoralas, as he rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “His temper flares and later, he regrets his reactions. Give him time to accept what you told him. He will return to you in search for more answers.”
“What answers?” Embarrassed at being caught crying, Thranduil wiped away his tears.
“I listened closely, and I know Legolas did as well. Your words will lead him to the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That you still love Elluin and that you regret your past actions.” Avoralas caressed his King’s face, hoping to soothe the distressed Elf. “Once he realizes that there is still love left, hope will blossom inside him.”
“And then what?”
“And then you will travel to Imladris, sire. You will make amends, ask for forgiveness, and do what you should have done decades ago. You will bind with Elluin.”
1 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun)
2 melethron –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun)
3
4 pen-neth (sing.) –- young one (Sindarin, noun, pronoun)
5
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin dictionary
Definition of OC names:
Avoralas – abundant growth
Celach – flowing flame
Elluin – blue star
Landiant – broad bridge
Mornén – child of dark or night