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.
Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Lómion starts to
heal and embarks on a difficult, personal journey. Legolas visits Imladris and
finds himself interested in Melpomaen.
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 9
“These are your rooms, Legolas.” Melpomaen had guided his charge through the corridors until they had reached the guest wing. He opened the door and stepped aside, so Legolas could enter first. “I hope they are to your satisfaction.” The expression in Legolas’ eyes struck him as odd, and he wondered what puzzled his guest to such an extent. “Is anything amiss? Anything I can fix?” Erestor had entrusted Legolas to him and Melpomaen was determined to make certain the other Elf’s rooms were to his satisfaction.
Legolas managed a shy smile. “It is nothing. It is merely strange to be sleeping in a house, instead of high up in the trees.”
“Aye, I recall some of the Galadhrim having the same doubts. They grew used to sleeping in the house quickly though.” Melpomaen cocked his head. “Where do you hail from? Is it the Golden Wood? But you are not dressed like a Galadhrim.”
Legolas wondered why Erestor hadn’t told Melpomaen where he hailed from, but he saw no danger in confiding in the other Elf. “I hail from Mirkwood.”
Melpomaen’s eyes widened marginally. “I never met a Mirkwood Elf before.” He was already trying to work out Legolas’ reason for coming to Imladris. Erestor and he *had* been receiving more letters from Thranduil and they were busy replying to them. Maybe he should be diplomatic and not inquire about the obvious just yet. He opted for a non-relevant question. “Is it true that there are giant spiders in Mirkwood?”
“Aye, poisonous spiders.” Legolas removed his long hunting knives and stretched his weary body. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, but it had been a long journey and he was tired. “Thank you for showing me to my rooms, Master Melpomaen.”
Melpomaen smiled. “Just Melpomaen will do. I hold no power here.” Legolas’ smile grew a bit more radiant and Melpomaen found himself returning it. “It is already late and Ithil rising. I will send up some food and visit with you again in the morning. I reckon you are eager to explore the Last Homely House?”
“Aye, I am.” Legolas enjoyed Melpomaen’s company, but was so tired that he was about to fall asleep on his feet.
Thankfully, Melpomaen realized that as well. “Sleep well.”
“Thank you.” Legolas sighed, relieved, hearing the door close behind Melpomaen. He didn’t bother to undress and fell face forward onto the bed. After pulling the pillow close and cradling it against his chest, his eyes lost all awareness as he drifted into a deep sleep.
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A two-year old Elladan ran through the corridors, not caring if he would crash into something or someone. Elrohir was chasing him, and gaining on him. Elladan dashed behind the curtains, hiding himself from view. From his safe place, he watched Elrohir run by and dash around the corner. Good, he had escaped his brother!
A smug, pleased look appeared on the Elfling’s face as he made his way to the Hall of Fire, where during this time of the day the minstrels composed their songs. Although he loved his parents and his brother dearly, it was Lindir’s voice and sky-blue eyes that interested the Elfling most. There was so much music in that voice and the eyes that he wanted to be a part of it.
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“Ada1!” Elrohir had finally found his father and flung himself at Elrond’s leg, wrapping his chubby arms around the limb. “Elladan is gone!”
Elrond sighed, deeply, and then bent down to collect the distressed Elfling into his arms. “He has probably gone to the Hall of Fire to be with Lindir.”
“Why is he like that?” asked the Elfling, snuggling up to his father. “Why doesn’t he want to be with me? He does not love me!”
It hadn’t taken his son long to reach that conclusion! Elrond rocked Elrohir in his arms and softly sang a lullaby. “Elladan loves you, Elrohir. But brothers are like that.” He recalled Elros, always running off to explore, whilst he preferred to sit with their mother. “He will grow out of it.” Elrohir stared at him with large, amazingly wise eyes. At times, Elrond wondered if an ancient fëa2 inherited the small body.
“Hold me?” asked Elrohir, burying his little fingers in his father’s robes.
“Always.”
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The next morning, Legolas rose exceptionally late. Normally he would rise at first light, but the journey had truly left him exhausted and his body had demanded he rest.
“Legolas? May I enter? Or did I arrive early?” Melpomaen had first attended to his duties, fighting the urge to seek out Legolas first thing in the morning.
Legolas quickly buttoned up his shirt and laced his leggings. Now that he was fully clothed, he walked toward the door and opened it.
Melpomaen sucked in his breath. It was obvious that Legolas had only just left his bed, as his hair was still tousled and his eyes heavy with sleep. “I can come back later,” he offered.
Legolas gestured for Melpomaen to step into the room. “That won’t be necessary. Just give me a moment to freshen up.”
Melpomaen straightened the fabric of the leggings and shirt he had brought with him. Legolas’ current clothes were covered in dirt and dust and he offered the clean garments to the Mirkwood Elf. “Take all the time you need to freshen up.” The smile, which Legolas directed at him, made him feel weak in the knees.
“Thank you for being so attentive,” said Legolas, accepting the clothes. For one long moment their gazes remained locked, but then he forced himself to turn and walk into the bathroom.
Melpomaen stood undecided in the center of the room, watching Legolas as the blond Elf disappeared into the bathroom. A few moments later, the other Elf appeared again. Legolas had changed into the clean clothes, his eyes were now free of sleep and his hair combed and neatly braided. Warrior’s braids, noted Melpomaen.
Legolas’ stomach growled and the blond’s face grew flustered. “It has been a while since I ate last.”
“Do not fret about it,” said Melpomaen. “I will take you the kitchens to eat breakfast before starting today’s tour.”
Legolas grabbed hold of his boots and slipped into them. Next, he reached for his hunting knives, but hearing Melpomaen cough diplomatically, he realized he wouldn’t be permitted to wear his weapons here. “No danger lurks in Imladris? We are safe here?”
“You can leave your knives here, Legolas. The borders are well-guarded and we have no giant spiders here. You will be quite safe.”
“I do not part lightly from them,” said Legolas, reluctantly. “But I will honor your customs.” He gave the long hunting knives one last longing look and then followed Melpomaen toward the doorway.
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“I feel out of place here,” admitted Lómion. They had spent most of the day outside. He had felt safe and secure in Ereinion’s arms and the other Elf’s body heat had kept him warm. But the air was growing chilly now that the night was upon them and it was time to go inside and explore the cottage. “It is so… strange, to see the sun set. To feel cold…”
Ereinion nodded. “I know the feeling, meleth3. It has been a while for me as well since I was alive, but we will grow used to it again. The Valar must have a reason to bestow new life upon us.”
“I can still not believe that you would call me that.” Lómion raised his eyes and looked deeply into Ereinion’s. “After all I have done…” He was silenced when Ereinion placed a finger across his lips.
“You did nothing. There is nothing to feel guilty for. You are Lómion and you have been asleep for a long time during which someone else guided your actions. But you are awake now and we are in Lórien’s gardens. I doubt the Valar will allow you to be unhappy in this place.”
Lómion bowed his head. “I do not deserve to be happy.”
“But you do! What must I do to convince you of that fact?” Looking into the child-like eyes, Ereinion began to understand why the Valar had returned their bodies to them. Lómion needed to do all the things he had missed out on because of his father’s dark deeds. He needed to grow up – emotionally and physically. What Lómion needed was time. They needed to do everything in small steps. Instead of offering more words, he pressed another kiss onto the quavering lips. “We should go inside now. It is growing chilly out here.”
Lómion still felt Ereinion’s lips pressed against his, although the kiss had long ended. Why did Ereinion continue to kiss him? And call him meleth? Could it be that Ereinion really loved him? But why? And how could that be? He allowed Ereinion to pull him to his feet and he followed the other Elf into the cottage.
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“There is only one bed,” said Lómion in a heavy voice. In the Halls of Waiting he had slept in Ereinion’s bed, but things felt different now. Ereinion had kissed him and called him his love. Would Ereinion expect something in return for saying that? A demand, which he would voice once they were in bed? An ugly memory flashed through his thoughts, showing him how Eöl had delighted in taking him against his will.
“We do not have to share the bed. I can sleep on the couch,” offered Ereinion, who sensed Lómion’s unease. /He has not yet dealt with the abuse and now that we are here those old fears are surfacing again. I recall the way Lindir acted when he began to face his fears – his memories concerning those Orcs. Lómion still has a long road ahead of him./
“Nay, I think it will be all right… it is just… I was reminded… I do not feel…”
“I understand, meleth. I really do.” He opened his arms, giving Lómion the choice to move into them or not. “Give it time. The memories will lessen.”
“Oh, I hope they will,” said Lómion in a choked tone. “They've tormented me for too long already.”
Realizing he needed to lessen the tension Lómion was in, Ereinion changed the subject. “Are you hungry? I know I am, and it has been a long time since I prepared a meal. Don’t tell anyone, but I love to cook.”
“You do?” Lómion’s eyes lit up, hearing Ereinion’s mellow and playful voice. He allowed Ereinion to pull him downstairs, where the former High-King busied himself lighting candles and oil lamps. A soft, golden light illuminated the cottage, making it feel like a real home – a home, which he had never had before.
“Can I help?” Lómion had followed Ereinion into the kitchen and watched the other Elf open and close the cupboards.
“Looks like we only have vegetables… and wine!” Ereinion victoriously placed the bottle onto the table. “I think I can make a nice, hot soup. Have you ever peeled potatoes?”
Lómion gave Ereinion an apologetic look. “Nay, I never did, but I am willing to learn.”
“Just watch for now. I do not want you cutting up your fingers.” It had been millennia since he had felt this homely – this much at ease. That had been when he had lived with Círdan. Oh, that seemed like several life times ago. He could grow used to this feeling again!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You are a good cook,” said Lómion in a shy voice. The vegetable soup had been filling, spicy, and had warmed him from the inside. They had settled down on the comfortable couch and through the window, they could stare at the moon and the stars. Until today Lómion had never realized how much he had missed that sight!
“Thank you,” replied Ereinion, pressing a kiss onto the silk hair. He had seen the looks Lómion had given his reflection whenever the dark-haired Elf had found himself in front of a mirror or window. /It is only logical that he needs time to accept this./
Lómion had pulled up his knees and had wrapped his arms around them. The mere sight of the silken hair, or smooth skin confronted him with what had happened in the Halls of Waiting.
“Do you like it here?” inquired Ereinion.
“It is peaceful and quiet… Aye, I do. It is unlike any place I ever lived. Gondolin always buzzed with activity and when I lived in Nan Elmoth with the Dark Elf… there was always darkness. He hated the sun and would keep us locked up inside or beneath the earth.”
“And you love the sun, don’t you?” He had seen the pleasure in Lómion’s eyes when the sun rays had caressed his skin that afternoon.
“I do,” admitted Lómion, shyly. He shivered, as it was growing increasingly cold in the cottage. “We should look for firewood tomorrow.”
“Aye, tomorrow.” Ereinion carefully pulled Lómion closer to his chest and parted his legs so the other Elf could move closer. Once Lómion was in place, he wrapped arms and legs around him. “Warm? Comfortable?” Or would Lómion find this position too restraining? He was constantly trying to find out how far he could go – where Lómion’s boundaries lay and so far, the other Elf hadn’t told him to back off.
Lómion rested his back against Ereinion’s chest and melted into the embrace. “Aye, warm and comfortable.”
“Lómion, about the bed… What do you prefer? To share it or for me to sleep on this couch? Which is perfectly comfortable by the way.” Ereinion wanted to address this now in order to avoid awkward moments later.
“I do want you close,” admitted Lómion, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head against Ereinion’s strong shoulder. “And I do trust you, it is just that… He feels so close, after encountering him in the Halls. His image had dimmed in my mind, but now he is back and I remember the way he sneaked into my bed at night. It has nothing to do with you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” said Ereinion, nuzzling Lómion’s hair, which still smelt of lilies. The scent never left Lómion. “And I am grateful that you put your trust in me. I will never betray that trust.”
“We will share the bed,” decided Lómion. “I need you close – I need you to keep the nightmares at bay.”
“Do you want to go to bed now?” Ereinion had recognized the sleepy undertone in Lómion’s voice.
“I *am* tired.” Today’s events had worn him down.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and light the oil lamps in the bedroom? I will extinguish the ones here and then join you.” Ereinion released Lómion from the embrace and stilled, finding the dark-haired Elf leaning in to press a clumsy and awkward kiss on his lips. “I love you,” he whispered in response. Lómion’s dark eyes reflected deep love and affection and Ereinion knew they would be all right in the end. But first, Lómion had to deal with those last remaining ghosts from his past.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ereinion had extinguished all candles and lamps and was about to climb the stairs when he realized that this cottage had a nice feel to it. It felt homely – comfortable. Smiling and feeling at ease, he climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. Only a single oil lamp still burned, standing on the nightstand. Lómion had already climbed beneath the covers and the large, doe-like eyes looked at him with trust and longing. Ereinion removed his boots, socks and shirt, but left his leggings on, uncertain how Lómion would react should he remove them.
“Please, I want us skin on skin. I can control the memories,” said Lómion, pleadingly. He wanted to prove to Ereinion that he wasn’t the fragile Elf the former King thought he was. He was stronger than Ereinion knew!
Ereinion gave him a thoughtful look, but then complied, shedding his leggings as well. Lómion raised the covers and he stretched beside the other Elf. Lómion moved into his arms and sighed against his chest. Ereinion closed his eyes in an effort to control his body’s response to having Lómion this close. “I love you, meleth.”
Lómion smiled, ruefully, against Ereinion’s bare chest. “What is love? I feel something, but I do not know if it is love. I always thought myself incapable of love.”
Ereinion buried his face in Lómion’s silk hair. “Oh, believe me when I say that you *are* capable of love. Every time I look at you I see love shine from your eyes. I sense it now.”
“You do?” Lómion raised his head and looked Ereinion in the eyes. “Do you see it now?” Was he really capable of love?
“I see it. It shines as brightly as a Silmaril.” Ereinion caressed Lómion’s face, still marveling about the handsome features and soft hair that had been returned to the other Elf. “I loved you when you carried scars of the fire and I love you still.”
Lómion bit his bottom lip. “I do not know how much of a lover I can be. Eöl, he… I feel damaged.”
/So did Lindir…/ Ereinion pulled Lómion in his arms again and waited for the other Elf to make himself comfortable before addressing him again. “Take this one step at a time. I think you are very brave to have taken this step today. Not only are we sharing a bed, but we are naked as well.”
Lómion snuggled closer. “That is because I trust you. You
are the only one who ever tried to understand me.”
Ereinion stroked Lómion’s back with soothing circles. “Try to sleep, meleth. I will keep the nightmares away. The monster won’t find you here.”
“Thank you,” whispered Lómion, already half asleep. Had he really found true love? Only time would tell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas definitely had a healthy appetite. Transfixed, Melpomaen watched the blond Elf devour a surprisingly large quantity of food.
Legolas smiled, apologetically. “It has been a long time since I last ate a proper meal.”
Melpomaen inclined his head. “If I had known you were still this hungry I would have sent up additional food to your rooms last night.” He had seen to it that one of the servants had delivered an evening snack to Legolas’ rooms after he had left, but it had apparently done little to still Legolas’ hunger.
“I was too exhausted to eat. Do not worry about it.” Legolas finished breakfast and gave Melpomaen a warm smile. “What plans did you make for today?” He was looking forward to spending time with Melpomaen.
“I will introduce you to Lord Elrond and give you a general tour of the Last Homely House. Maybe we can make plans together for the next few days, as I do not know what exactly holds your interest?” This was his way of asking why Legolas had come to Imladris in the first place.
Legolas considered Melpomaen and shrugged once. His father hadn’t sworn him to secrecy in this matter. “I am here to find out if Imladris is true in her intention to befriend Mirkwood. Therefore, talking to the inhabitants and Lord Elrond himself would be most helpful.”
“You are here on King Thranduil’s orders?” Melpomaen hadn’t considered the possibility that Legolas could be an emissary, but now Erestor’s request to humor Legolas in every possible way made sense.
“Aye, my father asked me to…” Legolas’ voice faded, seeing a stunned expression in the advisor’s eyes. “Surely, you know…”
Melpomaen shook his head. “I did not know that you are King Thranduil’s son, my Prince.”
“I am no Prince,” said Legolas, trying hard to keep any resentment from his voice. “I was born out of wedlock and am, therefore, illegitimate. I hold no claim where the throne of Mirkwood is concerned.”
Melpomaen pushed his hands into his sleeves and gave Legolas a long and thoughtful look. He had access to Elrond’s network of spies, who also operated near Mirkwood, and Elrond had never received reports that Thranduil had an illegitimate son.
“I surprised you,” said Legolas in a calm voice. “You had no idea who I am.”
“Lord Erestor did not see it fit to inform me yet.” Knowing Erestor, the Chief Advisor had his reasons for not confiding in him. “I applaud your father’s decision to send you here. Now that you are here, you can see for yourself that we mean well. Imladris is always looking for new allies and Lord Elrond is most sincere in his intention to befriend King Thranduil.”
“My father expects me to return before the first snowfall. In the meantime, I am to gather information and then report back to him.”
“That leaves us with only a few weeks.”
“Four, maybe five.” Legolas finished his morning tea and rose from behind the kitchen table. “That leaves us little time to waste. We should start now.”
Melpomaen got to his feet as well. “Our first stop will be Lord Elrond’s study.” The advisor knew how important it was that Legolas understood their intentions were sincere and Elrond was the best person to convince Legolas of that.
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“Elladan?” Elrohir had braved his fears and undertaken his most dangerous enterprise yet. He had left his own crib and climbed into Elladan’s. “Wake up!”
Elladan stirred from his sleep and the Elfling gazed in surprise at his twin. “What are you doing here?” He developed a whole new sense of respect for his brother, realizing Elrohir had made his way into the crib all by himself. Sensing some of his brother’s sadness, he opened his chubby arms and wrapped them around his twin. Limbs entwined, Elladan waited for Elrohir to start talking.
“You don’t love me no more!” said Elrohir in a sad, slightly accusing voice.
Elladan blinked. “What?” What had gotten into his twin? “You are my brother! Of course I love you!”
“You always run away when I wanna play!” Elrohir pouted, but the fact that Elladan held him tight encouraged him to unburden his heart. “You never play with me!”
Elladan rocked them, and then placed a loud raspberry on his twin’s throat. Elrohir giggled and squirmed, but the sad and lonely expression in the Elfling’s eyes remained. “I am sorry. I won’t run again.”
“Why do you run? Don’t you like playing with me?”
Elladan playfully tugged at a strand of his twin’s hair. “I love playing with you, but…”
“But what?”
“I love listening to Lindir… His songs are about monsters, beautiful ladies and knights!” His enthusiasm almost got the better of him, wanting to demonstrate pounding on one of these things Lindir called Balrogs. “You can come with me the next time I sit with Lindir… Do you want that?”
“I want that.” Elrohir held his twin close and he grew less tense. “Don’t ever leave me, Elladan. I need you.”
“I need you too, Elrohir.”
The twins fell asleep, hugging and smiling, and that was also the way Elrond later found them. A smile surfaced on the Lord’s face and he shook his head in wonder. These two would always make up after arguing, for which he was grateful. If only Elros and he had done the same.
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The first rays of the sun woke Lómion the next morning. Ereinion was still holding him, but the hold had loosened, and after pressing a kiss onto the sleeping Elf’s brow, Lómion rose and left the bed. Looking out of the window, the beauty and serenity of the gardens overwhelmed him. It was so different here – compared to the other places where he had lived.
The sun called him outside and Lómion didn’t bother to dress. He left the cottage naked and giggled, placing a bare foot on the grass, which tickled against his soles. Warm rays caressed his body and Lómion followed that call by walking toward the stream. Upon reaching it, he closed his eyes, threw back his hair, and extended his arms. The warm rays now reached every inch of his body and it almost felt like a cleansing – the rays burned away the darkest stains on his body and soul.
Lómion still expected to wake up and to find himself in the Halls of Waiting once more. His worst nightmare was being returned to the main hall, where Turgon and his guards were eager to give him another beating. This was just too good to be true. Good things just didn’t happen to bad people like him!
After opening his eyes again, he slowly went down on his knees. Grass danced against the palms of his hands, when he placed them on either side of his body. A golden glow lay over the gardens and the water, and it lured him into looking at his reflection. In the calm water, he saw his face, which was flawless and unmarred. Transfixed, he stared at his reflection, slowly recognizing familiar features. But those features and the eyes were free of hatred and self-loathing. The dark eyes were at peace and sparkled with love – love, which he held for Ereinion. /I never thought I was capable of love!/
“You have much to learn, my child.”
Startled, Lómion looked up and into Lórien’s twinkling eyes. “My Lord, I didn't hear you approach.”
Lórien placed the basket he was carrying on the grass and smiled at Lómion. “Ereinion and you are probably hungry. It slipped my mind that you need nourishment so I brought some food with me.” The Vala lowered himself onto his heels and studied Lómion’s dark eyes. “You like it here.”
Lómion nodded, shyly. “I am afraid I will wake up in the Halls of Waiting again. I dreamt of such peaceful and beautiful surroundings, and I find it hard to believe that I am really here.”
Lórien rested a hand on Lómion’s shoulder and when the dark-haired Elf didn’t flinch away from him, he took that as a good and encouraging sign. “It is safe to believe it, Lómion. You are here and will stay here.” Lómion’s hopeful eyes met his, making him smile. “Here, why don’t you take this inside and fix breakfast for your love?”
“My love,” repeated Lómion in a whispering voice. “I cannot understand why he loves me. What is there to love?”
“A lot,” replied Lórien, realizing like Ereinion had earlier that Lómion needed time to accept his good fortune. “And you will realize that in time as well. It is like Ereinion said, give it time.”
Lómion’s eyes widened, feeling Lórien’s fingertips move over his bare shoulder. How could he have forgotten that he was naked? Bashful, he moved away from the Vala.
“There is nothing to hide – nothing to feel ashamed of, Lómion. Most certainly not your body, which is beautiful.” Lórien graced Lómion with one more smile and then rose from the earth. “My wife and I will visit with you in the next few days. For now, enjoy roaming the gardens.”
Lómion felt relieved now that the Vala had left. Realizing he had brought nothing to cover himself up with, he quickly carried the basket, filled with food, inside. After slipping into a long shirt, he set about fixing breakfast. Ereinion had pampered him and seen to his every need – it was about time he began doing the same thing for the former High-King.
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“My Lord Elrond? I would like to introduce you to a guest.” Melpomaen stepped into Elrond’s study first, followed by a curious Legolas. A grin curled the corners of the advisor’s mouth, finding Elrond playing with his sons. As it was already chilly, the fireplace blazed with hot flame and in front of it, on a warm rug, sat Elrond and the twins. Glorfindel sat behind the half-Elf’s ancient desk and was making last minute changes to the duty roster. “Lord Glorfindel.”
Glorfindel didn’t bother to look up from his work and waved at Melpomaen. He was in the last stages of finishing the rosters and couldn’t use any distractions.
Elrond *did* look up though. Surprised at finding Melpomaen had brought a visitor to his study, he smiled, curiously. A moment later, Elladan tugged at one of his braids – hard – making him cringe. “What is it, pen neth4?” His firstborn was a true menace, whilst Elrohir realized Elladan had caused their father some discomfort. The Elfling therefore patted Elrond’s hand and whispered something that sounded like an apology.
Elladan had wanted to ask his father to take him to Lindir, but at seeing Legolas, he changed his mind. The golden-haired Elf interested him!
Melpomaen noticed the pleased expression in Legolas’ eyes and knew the homely scene had made a good impression on the illegitimate Prince. “Would you like me to introduce you or…?” Did Legolas want Elrond to know he was Thranduil’s son? The matter of introduction was a delicate one and he didn’t want to make any mistakes.
Legolas stepped forward and bowed. At first he had thought that the blond behind the desk was Elrond, but he had quickly realized his mistake. Apparently the Lord of Imladris wasn’t one for formality and decorum! “My Lord Elrond, I am Legolas and I hail from Mirkwood. It is an honor to meet you, as I have heard many tales of your heroic deeds.” His father’s tone had always been mixed when he had taught him about their history. Legolas knew Thranduil blamed the Noldor for Oropher’s death, but at the same time Thranduil had always spoken Elrond’s name with respect.
Elrond lifted his sons and settled them comfortably in his arms. It was amazing, but he swore he could literally see them grow! They were only two years old, but already carried that somewhat sturdier frame of a Half-Elf. “Legolas of Mirkwood, I bid you welcome to Imladris. I would offer you my hand, but as you can see they are otherwise occupied.” Elrond studied Legolas and reached the same conclusion Melpomaen had. Legolas possessed an exquisite beauty, and he hoped it would serve the other Elf well, instead of making things more complicated in life. Blinded by such an exterior many an Elf wouldn’t look deeper to get to know the person beneath it. “May I introduce my Captain and good friend? Glorfindel!”
“Done!” Glorfindel placed the quill aside and rose from his chair. “Legolas, I…” He paused, briefly stunned at seeing such innocent beauty, but he then composed himself again. “I welcome you to Imladris.”
Legolas bowed once more. “Thank you for your kind words, my Lords.”
Elrohir, who had been looking at Legolas with large eyes, reached out with his right hand and managed to catch a warrior braid between his chubby fingers. “No knots?”
“These are warrior braids,” explained Legolas, patiently. “When you are older you might become a warrior as well and wear them.”
Elrond was pleased that Legolas showed patience in dealing with his offspring. “Now, Elrohir, let go of his hair.” But Elrohir curled his fingers even tighter around the hair and Elrond cringed at his son’s stubbornness. He almost expected Elrohir to ask Legolas another question, but this time it was Elladan who spoke.
“Are you a warrior? Did you fight…?” Aiya, what was it Lindir had called them?
“Balrogs?” supplied Elrohir, helping out his brother.
“Aye, Balrogs!”
Neither twin noticed Glorfindel flinch. Their innocent questions had brought back memories – memories of being separated from Erestor because of that blasted Balrog!
“Nay, I have not.” Legolas smiled, sweetly. Although there were hardly any Elflings in Mirkwood, he had a natural gift to interact with them. “But I have fought spiders.”
“Spiders?” Elladan laughed. “They are tiny!”
“Not the spiders in Mirkwood,” said Elrond, smiling at Legolas. “They are huge!”
The twins’ eyes widened with respect. “Giant spiders? How many legs do they have?”
“Well, eight,” said Legolas, amused. “When you are old enough I will allow you to go hunting with me. We will take them down together.”
Elrohir cooed ecstatically, seeing Legolas give them a wink! “That is a promise!”
“It is,” said Elrond, equally amused. “But not for many years to come. First you need to do some growing up and learn how to wield a weapon.”
“Glorfindel can teach us!” called out Elladan.
In mock annoyance, Glorfindel reached for his brow and released an overly dramatic sigh. In truth, he was already looking forward to passing on his skills to the twins.
Elrohir finally released the braid and looked at Legolas with large eyes. “We like you.”
Elrond smiled at hearing the ‘we’. The twins were developing a habit to say ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, and he wasn’t certain how to interpret that. It was probably just a phase.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I like Lord Elrond,” said Legolas, once Melpomaen and he were on their way to the stables. Although the advisor had suggested going to the library first, Legolas had vetoed that plan. He wanted to be outside, draw in the fresh air and get some exercise. So, he had suggested they go riding.
“He is a very kind Elf,” replied Melpomaen, who wasn’t pleased at all. Aye, he wanted to spend time with Legolas, whom he found fascinating, but it had been many years since he had last been on horseback! He was deadly afraid of embarrassing himself!
Legolas entered the stables and quickly spotted his mare. After greeting her, he guided her outside and slipped onto her back.
Melpomaen briefly talked to the horse master and was given a docile mare, which would hopefully cooperate with his requests. Carefully, he mounted, and sat awkwardly on her back. /Please move forward,/ he sent and immediately received her amusement. Apparently, he was being a bit too friendly and formal for her taste! /Just do not throw me off, please./ She promised she wouldn’t, and fell into a trot beside Legolas’ mare.
“Where will we head?” asked Legolas, enjoying his freedom.
“The Bruinen?” suggested Melpomaen.
“An excellent idea!” Legolas told his mare to speed up and was quickly galloping toward the river.
Melpomaen cursed beneath his breath and cajoled his mare into following suit, holding onto the mane for dear life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Glorfindel eased himself down onto their bed and pulled Erestor down with him. The dark-haired advisor ended up atop of him and Glorfindel gave his beloved a proud smile. Ever since the day that he had gifted Erestor that golden coronet his beloved had worn it, only removing it when washing his hair. “Did you know we have a visitor from Mirkwood?”
Erestor nodded once. His fingers were already busy unbuttoning Glorfindel’s shirt. “He is here at Thranduil’s request. Apparently, all those letters I wrote during these last months have made Thranduil wonder if Imladris is sincere in her efforts to befriend him. So he sent his son to find out.”
“His son?” Glorfindel stared at Erestor in surprise and then moaned, as his lover’s fingertips expertly pinched one of his hardened nipples. “He is the Crown Prince, then?”
“Nay, he was born out of wedlock. He has no claim to the
throne.” Erestor suggestively moved his lower body against Glorfindel’s groin.
“Make up your mind, meleth. What do
you want? To discuss Legolas or to ravage me? For I am in the mood to be taken
– wild, I might add.”
Those words drew a growl from deep within Glorfindel’s throat, who quickly reversed their position by flipping Erestor onto his back. “Legolas? Who is Legolas? I want you.”
Erestor smiled, smugly. He always knew how to get his way!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lómion placed the packed tray on the bed and then scooted closer. Ereinion hadn’t woken yet and Lómion indulged himself by studying the former High-King’s relaxed features. Ereinion was handsome. The long, dark hair reached down his back and the brown eyes revealed intelligence and compassion. Until this very day it amazed him that an Elf like Ereinion could fall in love with him. /A King! The Last King of the Noldor is in love with me. I do not understand!/ From what Ereinion had told him, he had gathered that the other Elf had only had one lover in the past – an Elf called Lindir.
/Lindir? I knew a Lindir once – a minstrel at Ecthelion’s court, but surely this cannot be the same Elf?/ But names weren’t given lightly and were seldom used twice. /Oh, what if this Lindir is the same Lindir I recall from my time in Gondolin?/ What had Ereinion told him? That Lindir had witnessed his friends being raped and then murdered. That he had almost been raped himself. /Aiya, what if that was my fault as well? The Orcs… they would have targeted the weak ones!/ The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that this Lindir was one and the same and that he that he was to blame for the Elf’s trauma. /What if Ereinion realizes the truth? That it was my betrayal that…/
“Lómion?” Ereinion had woken and found Lómion looking quite disturbed, even disgusted with himself. He absentmindedly noted the tray with food, and although his stomach growled, he ignored it and focused on his lover for now. “What is amiss?”
“I cannot tell you,” whispered Lómion, brokenly. He began to inch away from Ereinion, but the other Elf wouldn’t have it, and quickly restrained him by wrapping an arm around him. Bowing his head in defeat, Lómion said, “Please, let me go.”
Reminding himself to be patient, Ereinion shook his head. “Haven’t you learned by now that it is best to confide in me? Hiding from me does not work. I will make you face whatever put that look of self-loathing in your eyes.”
Lómion closed his eyes. “You will hate me.”
“Why?” Ereinion sat upright and pulled Lómion closer until the other Elf rested against him. “What did you remember?”
“You are right,” whispered Lómion in defeat. “You will realize the truth eventually. I had better do this now and not prolong this torture by pretending we are happy here.”
Ereinion held his tongue and waited for his beloved to unburden his heart once more.
“You mentioned having a lover once.”
“Aye, his name is Lindir.” Ereinion frowned, as he hadn’t expected their conversation would take this direction.
“Is he a minstrel?”
“Aye, an excellent one.” Ereinion sensed the tremors that shook Lómion’s body and wondered what was scaring his beloved.
“He witnessed his friends being raped and slaughtered and was attacked himself?” Lómion couldn’t believe that Ereinion hadn’t reached the obvious conclusion yet. “The day Morgoth attacked Gondolin? After my betrayal?”
“Ah…” Ereinion finally understood what was going on in Lómion’s mind. “And now you have convinced yourself that you are to blame for what he went through?”
“I am!” said Lómion, firmly. “I betrayed Gondolin! I gave Morgoth what he wanted! If I had endured the abuse and had died in captivity Lindir would not have been hurt in such a way!” He raised his head and his feverish eyes met Ereinion’s. “How can you still feel comfortable holding me?” And yet, when he looked into those brown eyes, he saw love – not loathing.
“Morgoth would have attacked at any rate – even without your collaboration. You must understand that he used you. Aye, things might not have turned so ugly if you had not given in, but Morgoth would have destroyed Gondolin at any rate. You saw his army! And you also know that Turgon threw every warning to the wind.”
“Did you know that I warned Turgon?” Lómion stared at Ereinion with a helpless expression in his eyes. “It was after Morgoth had released me and I had returned to Gondolin. There had been a council meeting and after that, he asked me to keep him company during dinner. I accepted and I warned him. I told him that Ecthelion and Glorfindel were right and that Gondolin was in danger. I even suggested evacuating the women and children, but he laughed at me and told me that his army was strong enough to take Morgoth on. What was I supposed to say to that? He was King!”
“You really were at war with yourself, weren’t you?” Ereinion decisively held Lómion close, not allowing him to flee from this conversation.
“I… I do not know…” stuttered Lómion, surprised that Ereinion hadn’t shoved him away yet. “Don’t you understand? *I* am responsible for the trauma Lindir suffered!”
“Nay, that was Morgoth and those Orcs.” Ereinion drew in a deep breath. “Did you really think I never realized this until now? It did cross my mind.”
“And you never called me upon it?” Lómion’s eyes were impossibly large.
“As I told you just now, Morgoth used you… Maeglin used you and Turgon would not listen. Stop taking on all the guilt! It is not yours to carry!”
“How can you say that? You are wrong.” But Lómion’s voice had lost most of its conviction.
“Meleth, I love you…”
Hearing Ereinion admit his love for him, made Lómion all teary-eyed. “You should not.”
“I love you unconditionally, Lómion. Maybe one day you will understand what that means.” The timid expression in the brown eyes told Ereinion that Lómion still had a long road ahead of him, but it also told him that there was hope for them. Lómion loved him in turn – he was certain of that! His stomach growled again, giving him the perfect excuse to change their topic. “And you brought food!”
“Actually, Lórien brought it. I met him earlier at the stream.”
/You went outside without me? You are braver than you think!/ Ereinion claimed Lómion’s hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss on the smooth skin there. “What do you say, meleth? Shall we eat our fill first and then go down to the stream to freshen up?” He had inspected the cottage last night and had found both a bathtub and shower missing. “After that, we could bask in the sunlight and explore the gardens a bit. Would you like that?”
Lómion shyly nodded his head once. “You still want me, then?” He couldn’t believe it!
“Of course, I do. I love you.” Ereinion proved his words by bringing Lómion in for an arduous kiss, which left both of them rather breathless. “Convinced?”
Lómion gave Ereinion a shy smile. “Maybe.” The kiss had laid some of his worries to rest, but he still doubted that there was something worthwhile inside him left for Ereinion to love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melpomaen bit his bottom lip, determined not to let show how inexperienced a rider he was, and when Legolas’ mare jumped across a fallen tree trunk, he followed. That was a mistake – but he realized that too late. A startled yelp escaped his lips, as he lost his hold and slid off of the mare’s back. Instinctively, he tried to break his fall and to roll with it, but he landed awkwardly and his right ankle twisted beneath the impact.
Legolas heard Melpomaen’s yelp and turned his mare around. He cursed his own inattentiveness, realizing his companion wasn’t an accomplished rider. He should have realized that before! He was off of the horse's back within seconds and knelt next to Melpomaen, who was trying to catch his breath. “Are you injured?”
Melpomaen began to shake his head, but then a spiral of blinding pain shot up his right leg.
“Where does it hurt?” The expression of pain hadn’t been lost on Legolas, who checked for injuries.
“My leg…” Legolas’ hands were moving over his chest and then went down his thigh. The Mirkwood Elf’s touch caused strange sensations in his groin and confirmed what Melpomaen had feared all along – he was attracted to Legolas!
“I owe you an apology,” said Legolas, who carefully removed Melpomaen’s shoe. What had he been thinking? Taking the advisor for such a ride? “I should have set a slower pace.”
“It was not your fault,” replied Melpomaen, unwilling to let Legolas take the blame. He gritted his teeth, whilst Legolas’ examined his foot and leg. “My foolish pride got in the way. I should have told you that it has been many years since I last rode.”
Legolas nodded once. “We can argue about whose fault it was later. Right now, I should take you to the healers. You broke your ankle and it needs to be set.” A dark expression appeared in his eyes. It was *his* fault that the advisor would be bedridden for the next few days.
“Oh, I reckon that involves getting to my feet, does it not?” Melpomaen wasn’t looking forward to that.
“Not necessarily.” Legolas pushed his hands beneath the advisor’s knees and back and lifted him in his arms.
“What are you doing?” Melpomaen sucked in his breath in surprise.
“You should not put any weight on your foot, Melpomaen.” Legolas considered their situation and placed the injured Elf on the back of his mare. A moment later, he slipped into place behind Melpomaen, and wrapped an arm around the advisor to steady him. Looking over his shoulder, he told the other horse to follow them home. “You should not have made that jump,” he said with obvious concern in his voice.
“I did not want to lose face,” replied Melpomaen, whose heart was thundering now that he was resting against Legolas’ chest. The Mirkwood Elf felt warm and surprisingly soft. The arm, curled around his waist, was strong, and held him in place. “Do not fret about my injury too much. My healing ability will take care of it.”
“Even an Elf needs to rest after such an injury, and the least I can do is to keep you company during your recuperation.”
“But that would thwart your plans! You would be chained to
my side…”
“I would not call it chained.” Legolas smiled against Melpomaen’s dark hair. He didn’t have any siblings and whilst he had grown up there had been no children close to his own age. His childhood had been a lonely one – only his father had cheered him up and kept him company and the time they had spent together had created a tight bond between them. Now that he was in Imladris, he found he liked Melpomaen – his company. He was already convinced that Elrond had no hidden agenda and that the Imladris’ Elves truly wanted to befriend his father. The innocence, warmth and love that ruled the valley had already told him so.
“You will be stuck with me,” said Melpomaen. “Maybe Lindir will be willing to show you around Imladris.”
“I will wait for you to recover and in the meantime I will keep you company and that is my final word in this matter.”
Melpomaen looked at Legolas from over his shoulder. /You speak like a Prince. You act and carry yourself like one. You might have been born out of wedlock, but you would make the best Crown Prince Thranduil could hope for… and I wonder… Has Thranduil realized that as well? Does he know of a way to make the throne of Mirkwood accessible to you? Is that the reason he sent you?/ But only Thranduil could answer those questions and the King was far away in Mirkwood. Pain traveling up his leg reminded him that he had other problems to content with and all through their journey back to the Last Homely House, he bit down the pain that made his foot and leg throb.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Lord Elrond? Melpomaen has been injured!” One of the healers had thought it best to update their Lord, as Melpomaen *was* one of Elrond’s confidants.
Elrond, who had been sitting in the gardens with Celebrían at his side, gave his wife an apologetic look. “I will meet you here later.”
She shook her head though. “Meet me in the Hall of Fire for dinner this eve. I am going to the nursery to be with our sons.” She rose from the bench when he did and gave him a passionate kiss. After putting another lover’s knot in his hair, she turned around and headed for the nursery.
“I am sorry I disturbed you and your Lady,” said the healer.
Elrond raised a hand and dismissed the comment. Although he was quite busy during the day, the night would always belong to his wife. “What happened to Melpomaen?”
“He fell from a horse.”
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “He was out riding?” What had possessed Melpomaen to do that? It was no secret that the advisor preferred the indoors.
“He wanted to show our guest the Bruinen.”
Elrond’s eyebrow inched higher still. /He wanted to impress Legolas? Why?/
They had reached the Healing House and Elrond entered first. In the distance, he heard Legolas chide Melpomaen, and once he had reached their room, he stopped in the doorway and watched the Mirkwood Elf fuss over Melpomaen.
“You heard what the healer said! You are supposed to rest!” Melpomaen’s insistence that he could walk, annoyed Legolas. “You broke your ankle! Even if you could walk, you should not!”
Seeing the miserable look on Melpomaen’s face, Elrond decided to come to the rescue and to intervene. “Legolas is right, meldir5. You should go to your rooms to rest.”
Melpomaen’s face grew flustered, realizing the healer had alerted Elrond. “It is a minor injury, my Lord. There was no need for you to check on me.”
Elrond smiled and advanced on Melpomaen. He raised the advisor’s head by placing a finger beneath the chin and said, “I care about every Elf who lives here and you are a friend, Melpomaen. Can you fault me for being worried?”
His feelings of misery increased tenfold and Melpomaen sighed. “I cannot.”
“Then allow me to take you to your rooms and to attend to you until you are comfortably settled in your bed,” offered Elrond.
“My Lord, if you do not mind… I would do that.” Legolas hoped he wasn’t being disrespectful and explained, “The accident happened whilst he was with me and I would like to care for him until he has recovered.”
Elrond carefully masked his surprise. This request made him like Legolas even better. “Do you know where his rooms are situated?”
Legolas shook his head. “I do not.”
“Then allow me to show you. You can carry him.” Amused, Elrond watched Melpomaen squirm and protest when Legolas lifted him in his arms.
“I can walk!” Melpomaen felt embarrassed now that Legolas was carrying him once more.
“You are under orders not to put any weight on your leg!” said Legolas, reminding the advisor of the healer’s orders.
“You should listen to him,” said Elrond, amusement coloring his voice. He guided the Mirkwood Elf through the corridors, occasionally probing the blond Elf’s features, which were noble and reminded him of someone… Who was it? It was as if he knew Legolas, but…
“You can let me down now!” They had reached his quarters and Melpomaen’s face had gained a beet-red color.
“Not yet. My Lord, would you please open the door?” requested Legolas.
Elrond complied and pushed down the door handle. “I will leave you now,” he announced, realizing the two Elves didn’t need his assistance any longer. Directing his gaze at Melpomaen, he added, “I will instruct the cook to send dinner to your rooms. I assume you will have dinner with him, Legolas?” The Mirkwood Elf nodded and suddenly Elrond knew who Legolas reminded him of – Thranduil.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Glorfindel and Erestor looked up from their game of chess when Elrond entered their rooms. Glorfindel frowned. “He did not knock.”
Erestor nodded. He had grown accustomed to Elrond’s moods and recognized the absentminded look in the gray eyes. “Something occupies him.”
Hearing their voices made Elrond blink. “What am I doing here?” He had been heading for the nursery, not his friends’ rooms. “Oh,” he said, realizing he had entered unannounced. “I am so glad the two of you are playing chess and not…” Blushing, he averted his eyes.
“He is cute when he blushes,” commented Erestor, teasing the half-Elf.
“I am not cute!” Elrond’s eyes opened and stared at his Chief Advisor.
“The use of the word ‘cute’, combined with ‘Elrond’, is probably reserved to be only used by Celebrían,” said Glorfindel, continuing the teasing. “But, I agree, meleth. One could call him cute.”
“Argh!” Elrond felt like pulling out his hair!
Erestor rose from his chair and headed toward the half-Elf. “What is on your mind, meldir?”
“Legolas.”
“Ah, Thranduil’s son?” Erestor caught the stunned look Elrond gave him and prepared for a lecture.
“You knew?” Elrond’s eyes narrowed. “You knew and you did not tell me?”
“I reckon this is really a bad moment to inform you that I knew as well?” Glorfindel gave Elrond a smug look.
Elrond sighed, deeply, and threw his hands in the air. “The both of you knew and did not tell me?”
“Why does this upset you?” inquired Erestor, puzzled.
“I was studying his features and he reminded me of Thranduil… I must have been lost in thought and my feet carried me here. You confirmed what I already suspected,” said Elrond, who took to pacing the room. “But I never heard that Thranduil took a wife! I should have known – or is that a detail you chose not to tell me either, Erestor?”
“Calm yourself and sit down.” Erestor guided Elrond to the chair he had occupied until a moment ago. Elrond sat down and Erestor pulled up a third chair. “You *do* know that I have been corresponding with Thranduil these last few years?” After Elrond had nodded, he continued. “Do you also remember Mithrandir’s visit two years ago?”
“Aye, he wanted to see the twins.”
“He also informed me that Thranduil would send Legolas to see if Imladris’ intentions – your intentions to improve relations between our realms -- were true. I did not get the impression that Mithrandir and Thranduil wanted you to know. That way, Legolas could get his information undisturbed.”
“You should have told me,” replied Elrond in a chiding tone. “Legolas interests me. Tell me, are we dealing with Thranduil’s heir here? I did not even know Thranduil had sired children!”
“’Tis a matter of great delicacy,” explained Erestor, who found that Glorfindel was listening closely as well. The blond warrior only knew bits and pieces. “Thranduil and Legolas’ mother never wed and the King never bonded with her.”
Elrond’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me that Legolas is an illegitimate child? And not in line for the Mirkwood throne?”
Erestor nodded once. “As far as I can tell, Thranduil regrets never marrying Legolas’ mother. Legolas has all the qualities that would make him an acceptable heir to the throne, but as his parents were never married, it will be hard for him to claim the throne, should Thranduil die unexpectedly.”
“Where does Thranduil stand in this?” asked Elrond.
“Mithrandir hinted that Thranduil would like to see Legolas as his legal heir, but…”
“But Legolas’ parents are not married,” supplied Elrond. “I wonder if Legolas’ mother is still alive. If she is, he could marry her.”
Erestor blinked. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Now you see how useful it is to tell me everything!” Elrond smiled at Erestor. “If we could somehow ground Legolas to Imladris, we would gain a huge advantage.”
This time it was Glorfindel whose eyes grew big. “Elrond, you cannot be serious!”
“Think about it!” said Elrond, jumping to his feet again and energetically pacing the room. “If he finds a mate here and marries, Legolas would be bound to Imladris!”
“Nay,” said Erestor, decisively. “You cannot force love on him.”
“I am not saying we should force him! But we could introduce all of our she-Elves to him who desire to take a mate this year!” Elrond was already plotting. “Both Mirkwood and Imladris would benefit from such a marriage!”
“Nay,” said Erestor again. “Although I see the logic in your proposal I advise against it.”
“I am not forcing him to marry,” repeated Elrond. “Just showing him his possibilities.”
Erestor released a sigh. “Elrond, you are determined to do this.”
“To try at least, aye!”
“Can I make a suggestion?” said Glorfindel, drawing the attention of both Elves toward him.
“Go ahead,” replied Elrond.
“Do not introduce him to any she-Elves… I have the feeling his interest might lie with males instead.”
Elrond nodded, thoughtfully. “You might be right.” The way Legolas had fussed over Melpomaen returned to him. “I might already know a male Elf he could be interested in.”
Alarmed at the pace Elrond was setting Erestor rose from his chair and came to a stop in front of Elrond. “Who do you have in mind, Elrond?”
“Melpomaen.”
“Nay! Not Melpomaen!” Erestor resolutely shook his head.
“Why not?” Elrond smiled sweetly at his Chief Advisor. “You should have seen Legolas fuss over Melpomaen. Your personal assistant blushed under all the attention he received.”
“Why would Legolas fuss over him?” asked Glorfindel, getting to his feet as well.
“Melpomaen had a minor riding accident.” Seeing Erestor’s brow rise, Elrond cringed. “He fell from a horse. I think he was trying to impress Legolas.”
“Aiya,” whispered Erestor. “There is no stopping this – you.”
“If there is love we will encourage it,” said Elrond, giving Erestor a devious look. Surely, there was no harm in encouraging young love… was there?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you joining me?” Ereinion had eaten his fill and had then dragged Lómion outside. He stood in the stream, nude and energetic, and waited for Lómion to join him. He saw apprehension and insecurity in Lómion’s dark eyes and raised a hand. “Come to me, meleth.”
Lómion bit his bottom lip. He was still dressed in Ereinion’s long shirt, which he had slipped into before preparing breakfast and was reluctant to part from the garment.
“You trust me, remember?” said Ereinion, praying that Lómion was ready to take this step.
“Aye, I trust you.” Lómion removed his shirt and fought the urge to cover himself up with his hands. Seeing Ereinion’s trusting and loving expression, he slowly ventured into the water. Unexpectedly, Ereinion began to splash him with water – cold water. “What?”
“Come on, Lómion, let us play!” It had been ages since he had last played in the water. Even whilst he had lived with Círdan, the elder Elf had occasionally indulged him by chasing him through the water and pulling him under. Looking at Lómion now, he realized that the other Elf had never learned to play. “Splash back!”
Lómion finally caught on and splashed Ereinion with water. The former King lured him into the deeper section of the stream and suddenly the other Elf went under water, disappearing from view. “Ereinion?” Growing worried, Lómion scanned the water surface. Unexpectedly, strong hands grabbed his knees and pulled him under.
Ereinion knew he was taking a risk, but he also knew they had to move forward.
Lómion turned in the water and looked into Ereinion’s mischievously sparkling eyes. Apparently, this was part of the ‘playing’ Ereinion had referred too, and he forced himself to let go. It wasn’t long before they were splashing, ducking and chasing each other in the stream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the bank, Estë and Lórien looked on, smiling happily.
“Being here is doing wonders for Lómion’s fëa,” said Lórien, pleased with this development.
“His scars will heal slowly, but Ereinion is helping him heal.” Estë leaned in closer and melted into her husband’s embrace. “What are Eru’s plans for these two?”
“All I know is that they are to remain on the shores of Aman. Personally, I think that they will eventually join the other Elves. They will never return to the Halls of Waiting. That door has closed on them.”
“They are already happy here.”
Lórien nodded once. “And we will see to Lómion’s complete recovery.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next week passed by quickly and Melpomaen thanked the Valar on his knees when Elrond finally declared him fit to walk again. Legolas’ fussing had almost driven him out of his mind. Aye, the Mirkwood Elf meant well, but Melpomaen had hated feeling helpless.
“We can finally return to touring the house,” announced Melpomaen, who had received a cane from Elrond to support him during his walks.
“Are you certain you've recovered sufficiently?” Legolas eyed Melpomaen closely. During this last week they had become good friends and he had even apologized for fussing over Melpomaen, but he had never had someone to fuss over before!
“I am certain! I need to get out!” Melpomaen made way for the doorway. “Are you coming?”
“Where are we going?”
“The river Bruinen! We were on our way there when… when I had this little accident.”
“We can go there another day,” said Legolas, placing his
hands on Melpomaen’s shoulders in order to stop him from marching on. “Why
don’t we go to the library instead?”
Melpomaen realized he was being played. “I can master the distance to the Bruinen!”
“I know you can, but why would you?” Legolas’ expression softened when he said, “I am not the enemy. You do not have to convince me you can walk again.”
“I am sorry,” said Melpomaen, bowing his head. “I hate feeling this way!”
Legolas was wise enough to let the matter rest. “Let us go the library, meldir.”
Melpomaen managed a smile and nodded his head once. “The library sounds fine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had snuggled up on the windowsill. Legolas had sat down first, leaning his back against the glass of the window, totally absorbed by the book he was reading. It didn’t take Melpomaen long to join Legolas, sit down as well, and read along. The fact that Legolas’ arms came up to wrap around Melpomaen was something that happened naturally and neither Elf noticed the embrace as first. It just happened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Look at them!” Elrond elbowed Glorfindel in the stomach. They had happened upon Legolas and Melpomaen by accident and remained hidden from view. “I do not think we will need to use much force on them.”
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “You are correct. It looks like there is a mutual interest.”
“Good,” whispered Elrond, his eyes twinkling. He doubted they needed to do anything at all!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How did this happen?” asked Melpomaen, when Legolas had turned the last page of the book. And why hadn’t he noticed it?
Legolas smiled, which Melpomaen didn’t see. “I am not complaining.” He loved seeing Melpomaen’s dark hair mingle with his fair strands. “Or do you mind?”
“Nay, I do not think I do…” Melpomaen felt his face redden. “But don’t you think it is rather… inappropriate?”
“Actually, I do not.” Legolas rested his chin on Melpomaen’s shoulder. “Do you feel the need to break this embrace?”
“I do not,” whispered Melpomaen, feeling strangely shy.
“Then why don’t we stay this way?”
And there was nothing Melpomaen could say against that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“They are in love!”
Erestor shot Elrond an irritated look. “It took you long enough to work that out.”
“How long has Legolas been here?” asked Elrond, sitting down on the edge of Erestor’s desk. He had sought out Erestor’s study, as he needed to discuss this matter.
“Five weeks.” Erestor leaned back into the comfort of the chair and studied Elrond. The half-Elf had become a very good friend and had given him a home here, in spite of any doubts Elrond might have had about him. He had grown used to being an Elf and seldom missed using his powers as a Vala. He had truly become Erestor, Elrond’s Chief Advisor. “Legolas visited with me yesterday, announcing his impending departure.”
“He is leaving?” Elrond blinked; he hadn’t thought of that!
“Thranduil wants his son to return home before the first snow.” Erestor smiled, pleased. “He loves his son very much.”
“I understand his desire to have him back in Mirkwood. I want my sons to be safe as well. But must he depart so soon?”
Erestor laughed. “Have you grown fond of Legolas as well?”
“A bit,” admitted Elrond. Legolas had been charming and entertaining company during dinner. “Had my sons been older…”
“Don’t go there!” Erestor gave Elrond a stern look. “Don’t tell me you would have tried getting them together!”
“Elrohir would have made a very suitable mate for Legolas…”
“You never cease to amaze me,” whispered Erestor. “Thankfully, the Valar have decided differently.”
“Aye, he is in love with Melpomaen. Aiya, this parting will be hard on him.”
“On both of them.” Erestor stapled his fingers. “We should give them some privacy tomorrow. It will be a long time before they will meet again.”
Elrond eyed Erestor closely. Through the years he had grown convinced of Erestor’s gift of foresight, which had come in handy once or twice. “What do you see if you look into their future?”
“They will be together,” replied Erestor, convinced. “And they will be happy.”
“Do you also see if Legolas will become Thranduil’s heir?”
Erestor blinked again. “I am not certain -- does it matter?”
“Nay, it does not.” Elrond nodded once. “If their love is true no one will stand in their way, regardless of wondering if Legolas will succeed Thranduil or not.”
“I saw something else as well,” added Erestor in a teasing voice.
“What?” Growing wary, Elrond wondered why Erestor was giving him such an amused look.
“Thranduil will visit Imladris as well in the future.”
Elrond rolled his eyes. “Oh, my…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I do not want you to leave.” Melpomaen stood in front of the window and looked out over the valley, dressed in reds and browns, as the leaves of the trees had changed and were falling. Winter was on their doorstep and that meant Legolas had to return to Mirkwood.
“I do not want to leave either, but I do not have a choice.” Legolas had walked up behind Melpomaen and wrapped his arms around the other Elf. “Have you changed your mind, then?”
“Nay,” whispered Melpomaen. He rested his head against Legolas’ shoulder, raised a hand and played with a lock of Legolas’ hair. “We cannot consummate our love until we have your father’s blessing.”
Legolas nodded and nuzzled Melpomaen’s neck. “I know it is the right path to take, but I wish…”
Melpomaen turned in the embrace and lovingly looked into Legolas’ azure eyes. “I love you. I do not know when it happened or why, but I love you. And I fear it is a hopeless love, with you residing in Mirkwood. Will we ever meet again?”
Legolas guided Melpomaen to the bed they had shared these last few weeks and sat his beloved down. “I will fight for our love. I won’t give in. My father will accept you as my mate!”
Melpomaen pressed a chaste kiss onto Legolas’ lips. He wanted to do so much more than kissing and his body literally screamed for more attention from his lover, but they had decided not to bind without Thranduil’s permission. Melpomaen didn’t want to drive a wedge between father and son and would only accept Legolas with the King’s permission. “These last few weeks were difficult, Legolas. I love you and I want to express that love physically, but we cannot.” They had limited themselves to kissing and snuggling instead. Legolas was the greatest temptation he had ever faced, but so far, he had withstood that temptation.
Legolas carefully lowered Melpomaen onto the bed and then stretched beside the advisor. They had known each other for five weeks now and he was to leave tomorrow. Having Melpomaen close, without being able to touch him intimately had been hard, but he knew that living without the advisor at his side would be so much harder. “I do not want to live without you.”
“Neither do I… I just wish there was a way…”
Legolas nodded and pulled Melpomaen close. “So do I.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There might be a way.”
Melpomaen thought he had misheard. “I was not listening, what did you say?”
Erestor gave Melpomaen a conspiring smile. Legolas had taken his leave from Elrond and Glorfindel, and only Erestor had remained to support Melpomaen once Legolas was gone. “I said; there might be a way.” He shouldn’t be saying this – he really shouldn’t – but he remembered the misery he had suffered when that Balrog had taken Glorfindel away from him. Legolas was alive and there was no reason for the two Elves to be apart. “Go to Mirkwood with him.” The way Melpomaen’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets would have been amusing, if Erestor hadn’t known that his friend was really hurting.
“What? You cannot be serious!”
Erestor, standing next to Melpomaen, ignored the fact that Legolas was getting ready to mount his mare and focused on his friend instead. “Listen to me, meldir. I lost Glorfindel a long time and I did not have the choice you have now. I know how much it hurts to be without the one you love. And it will be even worse for you. I lost Glorfindel to death – you do not have to lose Legolas to Mirkwood. You have a choice.”
Melpomaen couldn’t believe Erestor was actually suggesting traveling to Mirkwood. “But what if Thranduil...”
Erestor cut him short. “Don’t play this game, Melpomaen. These ‘what if's’
won’t help you. You have to make your mind up now, as Legolas is about to
leave.”
Seeing his beloved’s distress, Legolas walked toward Melpomaen. It wouldn’t matter if he left now or five minutes later. “I am sorry, melethron6. I wish my departure would not leave you this distraught.”
“That is not it,” clarified Melpomaen. “Erestor’s suggestion…”
“What suggestion?” Legolas glared at the Chief Advisor, annoyed with him for upsetting the one he loved.
“He told me to travel to Mirkwood with you. To leave Imladris behind and risk it all.” Melpomaen looked Legolas in the eye. “I cannot do that, can I?”
Legolas’ brow furrowed. “I had not thought of that.” He wasn’t certain if he approved of that suggestion or not.
“How would your father react at finding Melpomaen in your company?” asked Erestor.
Legolas carefully considered the question before answering it and stroked Melpomaen’s back in a soothing manner. How *would* his father react? “At first, he will rage… but… I think that eventually he will be impressed by your actions.”
Melpomaen took heart, hearing those words. “You really think so?”
“I do. One thing you must always remember about my father when you meet him is that he is all bark, but he never bites.” Legolas chuckled, realizing he had already made his decision. “You should come with me, melethron.”
“But I cannot leave like that! What about Elrond and…”
“I will inform Elrond and the rest of the council.” Erestor took hold of Melpomaen’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “If you love him, fight for him.” His gaze shifted from his friend to Legolas. “And the same goes for you.”
“I will fight for him,” vowed Legolas. His heart felt light and happy now that his beloved would remain close.
Within minutes Legolas and Melpomaen had mounted and Erestor raised his hand in goodbye.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ereinion and Lómion rested in each other’s arms. After they had left the water, they had lain down to let the sun dry their hair and skin. Basking in the sunlight, both Elves felt at peace and happy.
“I never thought I would ever feel like this.”
“Have you ever felt like this before?” inquired Ereinion.
“I do not think so. This is the first time in my life that I feel happy.” And that had everything to do with Ereinion. Looking into his beloved’s eyes, he hoped he could do away with his past and become the lover Ereinion deserved.
1
2 fëa (sing.) –- soul (Quenyan, noun)
3 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun)
4 pen-neth (sing.) –- young one (Sindarin, noun, pronoun)
5 meldir (sing.) –-“male” friend (Sindarin, noun) mell + dir
6 melethron –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun)
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin dictionary