King's Courtesan - Chapter 6
May. 9th, 2006 02:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aubreymTitle: King's Courtesan
Rating: NC-17 this chapter
Pairing: Elladan/Lindir, Elrohir/Legolas
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Chapter 6 – Hunt
After that day on the practice field things shifted between Legolas and Elrohir. They both found excuses to pass time together and no matter what they were doing, from games of strategy to weapons practice to silent strolls through Imladris' many gardens, they found much pleasure in each other's company. Though Legolas was certain this had not escaped the notice of other Imladran nobles, it seemed as though being in the company of one of Lord Elrond's sons put him above petty gossip. He was not disabused of this notion for many weeks, and they were some of the most pleasant he could recall, above even those he had spent with Erestor engaged in training. He believed this was not least because Elrohir seemed to delight in his presence, apart from duty or necessity. More surprisingly, apart from desire as well. Though there were instances when Legolas would feel Elrohir's gaze lingering upon him, especially when they were in the baths together, or on the training field, never once did the younger twin express an interest in taking their relationship beyond the platonic.
Legolas himself certainly found Elrohir quite beautiful, but he would not cross the boundary unbidden. It was not his place. And more, he was unsure whether Elrohir's tastes ran to males as well as females, as his own did, or whether his preferences were more traditional. He did not want to give offense by making assumptions but, more importantly, he did not want to take any action which might risk the fragile friendship that seemed to be growing between them.
It was a most uncommon experience for him, and quite unsettling. Ever since he passed his majority the people of Mirkwood knew what he was to become and so either steered clear of any association with him or else attempted to gain his special favor. When he visited Imladris for training it seemed as though most knew why he was there and the others saw him as nothing more than one of Erestor's pupils. Neither had given him opportunity to forge a relationship separate from his persona. Having this chance was immeasurably freeing.
So, when Elrohir invited him to join Elladan and himself along with a small group of the Imladran guard on a short hunt, Legolas agreed with barely a moment's hesitation. A band of orc had been sighted near one of the human settlements that had grown up just beyond the outskirts of Elrond's lands. Though they had not yet attacked, all knew it was only a matter of time. Lindir's family lived nearby, so he would be joining them on the journey out though he would not join the hunt. It was his younger sister who had braved the trails alone to bring news of the orc to Lord Elrond, and to Legolas surprise she would be the one guiding their group.
The elf-maids Legolas had experience with would no more dare to travel without escort than they would undress in public. The very idea would likely send them into fits of shrieking and fluttering. The thought of leading a group of guardsmen in pursuit of orc would never even cross their minds as a possibility. Legolas found himself most curious to meet her. And not least because she was Lindir's sister. There was some possibility that he had spoken to her of Legolas, that she would know what he was. He decided not to worry about it until he could be certain – but he would do his best to discover what she knew as soon as possible. Most importantly, if he could he would keep her from speaking of it to Elrohir. He knew he would have to explain at some point, but he hoped to keep that conversation far in the future.
On a whim, Legolas wrapped his pipes carefully in an extra shirt and placed the small bundle carefully in the top of his pack. He cast one last quick glance around his chamber to make certain he was not forgetting anything. His eyes fell on the parchment from Erestor, still sitting where he had left it on the top of the desk. He had not thought about it since his first night in the Last Homely House and now he could not remember why he had saved it. Without a second thought he crushed the parchment in one hand and dropped it into the waste basket on his way out the door. As he sprinted down the stairs, he adjusted the straps of his bag and settled it more securely on his hip, out of the way of his knives.
When he reached the courtyard, Elrohir and the rest of the guard were waiting, though Elladan and Lindir had not yet joined them. Even before he was introduced, Legolas recognized Lindir's sister. Though her hair was red where her brother's was silver, she was just as tall as he was, standing shoulder to shoulder with the guard and nearly reaching Elrohir's formidable height. Her gaze was similarly sharp, observant and inviting at once. Her movements were graceful as she spoke as much with her gestures as words and her laughter, at something Elrohir said, was mellifluous. But more than anything it was her voice that was familiar. Though she had not followed in Lindir's footsteps to become a bard, the quality and tone of her speaking voice alone would have guaranteed her an audience.
“Legolas, I do not believe you have met Lindir's sister, have you,” Elrohir asked as he joined them.
“No; I have not had that pleasure.”
“That shall be remedied then. Legolas, meet Aileth Sherlindiell. Nowhere will you find a more talented tracker and woods-woman. She spent many years with the Dunedain and it is she that trained Aragorn in all he knows. Aileth, this is Legolas Thranduilion of the Woodland Realm. He is a most impressive archer.”
“Mae govannen,” Legolas said, extending his hand.
When their eyes met, hers had gone hard. Though she clasped his forearm in the traditional greeting, her grip was more forceful than strictly necessary.
“I have heard much about you,” she said. Her voice was cool and distant. “If you will excuse me, I must make sure my horse is ready. Lord Elrohir, Prince Legolas.” The title was bitter in her mouth.
Legolas nodded slightly as she strode away. He wished the ground would open and swallow him, or that someone would come and distract Elrohir, but neither did. At last he was forced to glance up at Elrohir, who was watching Aileth's retreating back with a slightly furrowed brow. He waited for the inevitable question about her attitude, expecting the worst. Though Elrohir's gaze was once again puzzled and slightly wary, but her did not mention Aileth's behavior.
“I believe Lindir and Elladan are finally ready,” he said instead – nodding past Aileth to the approaching pair.
Legolas found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. “I am ready to be off,” he said with more emphasis than he had intended.
Elrohir grinned. “I, too, have been longing for a taste of adventure. Though being home has its benefits, if I stay too long I begin to feel a bit caged.”
“'Twill be good to be on the road once more,” Legolas agreed.
“We could have been gone much sooner, had this slug-a-bed not kept me waiting,” Elladan said, elbowing Lindir.
“Me,” the bard replied with a look of affront. “Who was it that could not leave without his treasured dagger?”
Elladan shook his head. “Mistrels. They have no respect for a warrior's tools of the trade. If I said about his precious lute half of the things he has said about my weaponry...” he let the sentence trail off meaningfully.
“Elflings,” Elrohir interrupted. “If you are finally prepared, Aileth has been waiting for a quarter hour.”
The couple glanced over at the elleth, who was already astride her horse, arms crossed. Elladan looked slightly abashed and Lindir actually blushed. “I am sorry, muinthel-neth,” he called. Those gathered chuckled, but Aileth did not acknowledge the apology. Lindir shrugged. She raised a hand and the group mounted, galloping from the courtyard in her wake.
They continued at that pace for much of the morning and into the early afternoon. They did not stop for lunch, merely taking a bite of lembas and a drink from their water-skins as they rode. They needed to make good time on this leg of the journey because once they left the settlement they would have to travel on foot to keep from alerting the orc to their presence.
They halted only briefly at the little town to stable their horses at the one small inn. Lindir said his goodbyes to Elladan as Aileth spoke to the innkeeper, asking if there had been any changes with the orc since she had been gone. The man looked pained. The first attack had taken place several days prior, and now the townspeople were unwilling to leave their homes except at extreme need. Just the day previous one of the smaller dwellings at the edge of the village had been burned, its occupants – an elderly couple had been killed. Though a few of the more seasoned Men had attempted to track them, expecting to find the usual obvious orc trail, they had been confounded.
Aileth nodded, then returned to the small group. “It is as I feared,” she said. “The violence has escalated even in the short time I was gone. And the pattern is unusual – instead of ravaging and moving on, this band seems to be staying nearby, tormenting the villagers as they please.” She considered for a moment, eyes sharp upon them all. “We will separate into two groups of four. Elladan will lead one group, I will lead the other. We will search the surroundings for the rest of the afternoon and meet at the edge of the Bruinen an hour before nightfall. Whichever group finds the trail, mark it well, but do not attack without the rest. We do not yet know what we face,” she warned. “Elrohir, you're with me.” There was a brief flash in her eyes as she said this – there and gone almost before Legolas noticed. It was a look he knew well, one of heat, desire... and doubt. Elrohir, however, did not seem to notice, looking neither pleased nor distressed to be chosen. Her expression, when she turned to Legolas, had chilled. “You will also join us,” she said. He could read the distrust in her body, as she held it stiff. She would watch him. And she would judge. She would not trust him alone with members of her guard until he had proven himself.
Elladan's group moved off to the west, disappearing into the surrounding forest with barely a ripple of leaves to show their passing. Once they had gone, Aileth held up a hand and led the way to the east. They moved quickly, silently, senses extended, bodies fairly vibrating with tension. They spread out but kept each other in sight. Aileth was to Legolas' left, red hair shimmering in the sun. Elrohir was to his right, slipping through shadows as though a part of them. The forest around them was alive with noise. Birds called from high above, flying over with rustling wings. Crickets sang in the brush. Leaves whispered on the breeze. All seemed normal, at peace.
They ran through the afternoon, covering ground quickly and purposefully, but they saw no sign of their quarry. No carcasses, no spoor. There was no hint of orcish stench on the light wind, no tension in the animals around them. Legolas was beginning to think they would not be successful that day, when suddenly Elrohir gave a muffled cry. Before Legolas could ask what had happened, a piercing whistle broke through the silence. Aileth's group came together at once, heeding Elrohir's call.
“Elladan and the others are under attack,” he said. His face was bone white, his eyes gone black with suppressed rage.
“Lead us there,” Aileth said, wasting no words.
Elrohir took off like an arrow loosed from a bow. Without a moment's hesitation Legolas followed. Still moving silently they darted through the forest, now gone silent and still. Legolas' heart pounded somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He hoped no one had been hurt.
They heard the battle before they saw it. Swords clashed and rang, mettle to metal. Orc growled, goblins shrieked. They topped a hill and saw it below. Elladan's small group was surrounded and outnumbered. They had drawn together, back to back; they fought with grim determination. The sun flashed off Elladan's sword as he slashed and thrust. His eyes shone with hate.
Without thought Legolas raised his bow, notched an arrow and released instantly. His arrow sang as it flew true, embedding in an orc's throat and sending the beast sprawling. Others joined his and the air was alive with their song. The orc turned to confront this new threat. With a ringing cry, Elrohir raced down the hill, his eyes alight with a terrible joy, sword unsheathed. He did not slow to heed Aileth's call, commanding him to hold. The younger twin would protect the elder. Legolas hesitated for but a moment, knowing if they rushed in it could make the archers' job more difficult to separate friend from foe, then followed him into the heat of the melee.
The stench hit him first with an almost physical blow. Of equal parts rotting flesh, old blood and bog, it was like nothing else and something he could never become immune to. He nearly gagged, but forced it down. Then they were upon him and other thoughts fled. Unlike his practice with the twins, there was no finesse in the attack of the orc who confronted him. There was only brute force, hack and bite. He deflected the first blow easily, turning it aside and hewing the orc's head from its neck. Even as it fell another rose to take its place. Its eyes burned cold, but there was no hate, only a thirst for violence and pain. No soul looked out from those eyes and Legolas shivered, even as he ducked under the beast's sword and thrust his own deep in its belly, spilling entrails in a black wash of blood.
“No!” Elrohir's voice, strident with pain and fear. Legolas' attention immediately shifted. Had he been hurt? An orc pressed the advantage of Legolas' distraction, knocking his sword from his hand with a well paced blow to his wrist. Fortunately it was struck down by an arrow through the neck before it could do any more damage.
Undaunted, a goblin climbed over the dead body of its fallen comrade, leaping and Legolas with teeth and claws bared. Legolas raised his arms in defense, but was knocked backwards, falling to the ground, breath lost momentarily. Claws raked across his face in a blaze of pain, bringing Legolas back to himself. He kicked out, catching the goblin in the knees. Bones cracked and the thing fell with a howl. Legolas grabbed his sword and ran it through.
He gained his feet and looked frantically for Elrohir. He caught sight of him at the edge of the battle, backed against a tree, his brother lying at his feet. An orc had him hard pressed to defend them and another was steps away. Legolas was too far to reach them, Aileth no closer he realized with a sinking feeling. Her face mirrored his dismay. He sent a silent prayer to the Valar, raised his bow, notched an arrow and loosed it in one smooth movement, notching and firing another before taking a breath. In the space of a heartbeat both beasts fell, one wounded, the other killed outright. Elrohir decapitated the wounded orc, then looked up, searching out his rescuer.
As argent eyes met his, Legolas felt something catch in him. Elrohir smiled slightly and nodded. A peculiar warmth flooded him and he had to look away. His gaze was caught by Aileth's. A frown marred her expression, despite his success. Or because of it?
Suddenly realizing the forest had gone still once again, Legolas discovered the skirmish had ended. The Imladrin guardsmen were piling the orc carcasses together to burn. Elrohir was bent over Elladan. Aileth moved to another fallen guard who was cradling a wounded leg. Legolas crossed the ground, mindful of fallen swords and made his way to Elrohir's side. “Is he gravely wounded?”
Elrohir looked up. “Fortunately not, thanks in no small part to your aid. He has a minor wound to his shoulder, but received a blow to the head. He is unconscious. If you would assist me, I will attempt to wake him.”
“Of course. What must I do?” He knelt beside the brethren.
“I am going to enter a healing trance. I wish to make certain the head injury was not too damaging, and attempt to alleviate some of the pain before I wake him. I have depleted much of my body's resources in the fight and I do not believe I have the energy store myself. If you would allow me, I would borrow some of yours.” He paused and met Legolas' eyes. “'Twill not hurt, but you will feel drained and perhaps a bit dizzy for a few moments. Food and sleep will restore you.”
“I am not concerned,” Legolas reassured him. “Do whatever you would. I know you would not harm me.” Indeed, in all of his interactions with the twin he had felt naught but respected. It was not merely the politeness of one noble's son to another but something else, something deeper, though Legolas could not put a name to it.
The tiniest frown creased Elrohir's brows, but then he smiled and it was as though the sky brightened. “Hannon lle, mellon-nin,” he said. “Now, please place one hand upon Elladan's arm and one on mine. Close your eyes... listen to my voice... let all else fade from your thoughts... follow your breath as it flows through you.”
Legolas complied, feeling his lungs expand and contract as he breathed.
“As you inhale feel yourself going deeper within... float down... and down... and down.”
Legolas descended slowly, borne upon the lilting tones of Elrohir's voice. The words ceased to hold meaning as he was encompassed by darkness. Then a light appeared, pulsing as if with his heartbeat. He focused on it and his vision cleared to reveal Elrohir beside him. He tried to ask where they were, what this place was, but he could not form sentences, or words, or even sounds. The younger twin took his hand and smiled and there was a strange, rushing sensation and the darkness returned. At the edges of his awareness he heard Elrohir's voice murmuring Elladan's name.
Slowly they came to a halt. Before them stretched an amazing lattice of light strands. Some were straight and clear and shone with a strong light. Others were mirky, dim and these twisted together into knots of varying size and complexity. Still holding Legolas' hand in his, Elrohir reached out with the other. Gently, with nimble fingers, he tugged a strand tighter here, loosened one there and several knots pulled free. As they unravelled all of the strands glowed even brighter until Legolas was blinded. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he was once again kneeling in the soft earth of Arda. His head swam and his legs tingled, blood returning to his limbs, as he attempted to rise without success.
“Slowly,” Elrohir warned as Legolas moved. “Give your body a moment to adjust.”
Legolas remained where he was, breathing and trying to reorient himself. “That was... amazing. What was it?”
“Those were the lines of energy that flow through Elladan. Each creature in Arda has similar lines and betimes healers are able to manipulate them to offer succor.”
“Will Elladan be all right now?”
“He will still need time to recover, but I have hastened his healing.”
Slowly a bit of color began to return to Elladan's skin, though he was still and his features were pinched with pain. As Legolas watched, his eyelids flickered and opened. His focus turned unerringly to his twin. “'Ro. What happened? Were we victorious? Were any lost?”
Elrohir smiled, squeezing Elladan's hand. “Indeed we were, muindor nin. None were lost, though Galen seems to have been wounded. There will be time for the full tale when you have rested. You were sore wounded. We will take you back to the village for the night and if I deem you fit, we will return to Imladris on the morrow.”
Elladan opened his mouth to protest, but Elrohir cut him off with a glance.
“Remember the last time you pushed yourself too far too soon. You were abed for a sennight.”
Elladan sighed deeply, but did not refuse. “At least I had company,” he said with a slight smirk.
“You will tonight as well, if I know Lindir at all.” Elrohir sounded exasperated, but his eyes were warm and soft on his brother.
Suddenly feeling as though he were intruding Legolas stood and made his somewhat unsteady way to where the last of the orc were being piled. He offered to light the pyre and struck a piece of flint against his sword. The tinder laid around the edges caught quickly and the whole went up with a roar. Legolas stood back, watching as the flames devoured all in their path – wood, leather, flesh and bone alike. The air took on the acrid scent of burning hair, but Legolas did not move away.
There was a slight sound behind him, and then a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned and came face to face with Aileth. She was scowling; her eyes reflected the flames.
“What in the name of the Valar did you think you were doing ignoring my order to hold your ground?”
Legolas flushed. “I suppose I did not think. I merely wished...”
“Indeed you did not think,” she cut in. “You endangered Elladan, Galen and everyone in our group. You may be Thranduil's son, but that means less than nothing when you are under my command. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Legolas said simply, dropping his gaze.
“Aileth, do you not think you are being a bit hard on him,” Elrohir asked as he joined them. “After all, 'twas his bow that saved 'Dan and me.”
“It is likely you would not have been put in danger in the first place had he not broken my order.”
Elrohir gave a snort of laughter. “I broke it first, if you recall. You cannot chastise him without doing the same to me.”
Aileth's eyes narrowed, but her voice was less hard. “Do not think you are immune simply because you were attempting to protect your twin.”
“I would not dream it,” Elrohir said placatingly.
The tension left her shoulders as she allowed herself to be mollified. “Perhaps if you agreed to eat with me this evening I could be persuaded to forgive you both.”
“As it pleases you, my lady,” Elrohir said with a courtly bow. To Legolas' intense surprise, the elleth actually flushed and, with a crooked grin, dropped a curtsey.
“This eve, then, my lord.” Without another look at Legolas she turned and gave a sharp whistle. “We will return to the inn for the night to allow Elladan and Galen a chance to rest. Tomorrow we return to Imladris,” she said.
Their progress back to the village was slow in deference to the pace of the wounded, but they reached the inn before nightfall. In gratitude for their assistance in dispatching the orc, the innkeeper gave them each their own room and free food and drink for the night. This announcement was met with a rousing cheer from the Imladrin guardsmen and they set to with gusto.
For the first time since he had met Elrohir in the library, Legolas found himself alone. Lindir had gone immediately to Elladan's chamber and Aileth sat close beside Elrohir with shining eyes, listening intently to whatever tale he spun. There was no mistaking her expression and it was equally clear that she wanted no one else's company. Though the guardsmen had never been exactly cold to him, neither did they invite his company, closing rank at their table as he turned his gaze in their direction. And so he sat alone, eating and drinking in silence. Fortunately the inn had a minstrel of some small skill and so he stayed and listened as the night wore on and those around him grew boisterous with drink and the heady feeling of a battle won.
No matter how rigorously he attempted to keep his focus on the woman who sang, Legolas found his eye wandering across the room to where Aileth and Elrohir sat with heads bent toward each other, red hair bright against dark. At first neither glanced his way, or indeed at anyone else in the room. It was as though they were alone in a place of their own. Legolas tried not to imagine what passed between them, but images rose unbidden. Hair like flame spread across white sheets. Dark hair hanging down like a curtain. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. What did it matter if they did take pleasure in each other? It did not. He repeated the words to himself like a mantra.
He almost had himself convinced when movement from their table drew his eyes once again. Aileth had her hand at the small of Elrohir's back and her head leaned against his shoulder as she whispered a question into his ear. Legolas' mouth went dry. He strove to tear his gaze away when Elrohir shook his head slightly. Aileth snatched her hand away as though he had burned her. The younger twin pushed back his char and stood, making a small gesture toward Legolas. Aileth tossed a glance over her shoulder once, frown etched deeply between her brows. Her mouth twisted as though she tasted something bitter and she turned back to Elrohir.
The minstrel chose that moment to take a break to get a drink and the ensuring silence allowed Aileth's words to be heard clearly over the chatter of the other patrons. “You would prefer to spend the remainder of your evening with him? A whore?” Her voice was sharp with disbelief.
Legolas' heart stopped. The surrounding conversations fell momentarily then rose again as though nothing had happened. The music resumed at that moment, so Legolas did not hear what response Elrohir made, if any. Legolas gaze dropped instantly back to his table. His whole body went cold as though he had been drenched with ice water. If there was a chance Elrohir did not know, it was gone now and with it any hope...
Of what, exactly, Legolas asked himself. There was nothing to hope for beyond the services he could provide. Erestor had taught him that and taught him well. He would wait, finish his drink and hopefully by the time he finished both Elrohir and Aileth would have retired to their rooms. If he were especially fortunate, everyone would depart and spare him the humiliation of having all of those eyes upon him as he retreated. He took another sip of ale, wishing it were something stronger, something actually capable of getting him truly inebriated. Lacking that option, he contented himself with the slight tingle that was beginning in his fingers and toes.
“Legolas, may I join you?”
He looked up, startled, to find Elrohir standing by his table. The younger twin looked neither angry nor disappointed, but his expression was difficult to read. “Of course.” He wished he had something to offer, but he only had his half finished drink. He grasped his cup in both hands, fiddling with it nervously. He could not meet Elrohir's gaze.
“I have not had the opportunity to thank you for everything you did for Elladan... and me... today.”
Legolas' head shot up at the unexpected words and even more unexpected warmth in Elrohir's voice. “It was nothing,” he mumbled. “Merely what anyone would do in my place.”
Elrohir shook his head. “It was not nothing. I told you before – I do not mouth mere platitudes. I mean what I say.”
“I meant to offense.”
Elrohir sighed with a hint of exasperation. “And I do not take any. Are you always so reluctant to accept praise?”
“Not when it is deserved,” Legolas said, at last realizing he was not to be cut off from his presence – at least, not yet. “You are welcome for any assistance I offered today. I only wish I had been able to keep your brother from being wounded.”
“As do I. But he is a warrior and would not take to kindly to being coddled as an elfling,” Elrohir said with a small grin. “Both of us are well aware of the dangers inherent in hunting orc. But 'tis more important to protect Arda and those who dwell within than it is to remain safe.”
There was a strange light in Elrohir's eyes as he spoke and Legolas wondered at it. “Of course you are; I meant not to imply otherwise,” Legolas said.
Elrohir reached across the table and put a hand on Legolas' arm. “We seem to be bent on misunderstanding this night,” he said carefully. “It seems as though something has shifted between us. What is it?” He narrowed his eyes at Legolas, searchingly.
Legolas glanced away and traced his finger through the rings of condensation his cup had left on the table. What could he say? 'I am distressed because you know what I am and thus we may be at the end of our friendship'? Even were Elrohir not a noble, even were they not in a very public place he could not admit such a thing. And so he equivocated. “I am merely surprised that you interrupted your evening with Aileth to tell me something which could have waited until the morrow.”
“Our evening was complete,” Elrohir said somewhat sharply, but when Legolas risked a glance at him, his eyes were turned elsewhere, the look of distaste clearly not directed at him. Then his focus returned to Legolas and Elrohir smiled. “I did not believe the thanks should wait. Too many times such things go unspoken. I do not believe it should be that way.”
Legolas nodded, though he was still somewhat perplexed. What did this young son of Lord Elrond want from him? He knew, that much was clear. Was he paving the way for a more intimate relationship? Though it was not acceptable for one of such rank to dally with one of his own station, still it happened – in secret. Perhaps Elrohir needed the semblance of friendship to keep the thought of anything more from his father. Or perhaps, he thought suddenly, this was a test fashioned by Lord Elrond himself. But what would he be testing? Legolas' honor in not seducing one of Elrohir's station? Or his abilities to offer himself to anyone who desired, as he might need on the quest?
The music shifted then, becoming more melancholy, a song of mourning and loss, drawing Legolas out of his reverie. It sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. As the minstrel began to sing it came to him – in the Hall of Fire on his first night of his return to Imladris. Suddenly remembering Elrohir's reaction as well, Legolas turned to him, thinking to distract him with a question, or perhaps suggest taking a breath of air outside. But when he saw Elrohir, words died on his tongue leaving him speechless.
His face had gone completely white, except for dark shadows ringing his eyes. His lips were compressed into a thin line; his whole body had gone rigid and so still that Legolas wondered whether he yet breathed. But it was his eyes that brought Legolas to his feet. They had turned so dark they were almost entirely pupil and in their depths Legolas could see ghosts and shadows. He moved around the table and laid a gentle hand on Elrohir's shoulder. The twin did not acknowledge his presence with even the flicker of an eyelid. His whole being was trained on the minstrel in the front of the room.
“Come Elrohir,” Legolas coaxed. “'Tis late. We should sleep before dawn breaks.” Elrohir still did not seem to have heard him, but when Legolas put a hand under his elbow, urging him to his feet, his body complied. Legolas helped him from the room, guiding him so he would not stumble.
As he did not know where Elrohir's room was, Legolas brought him to his own. The chamber maids had lit the candles in sconces along the walls and on the bedside table. A fire burned in the fireplace, casting a cheery light and warmth into the room. They had also left a cauldron of water over the fire so there would be hot water for a bath and tea. The only furniture in the room was a bed, the side table and a large tub for washing, so Legolas lowered Elrohir to sit on the edge of the bed. The younger twin followed the direction as he had all along, with body but mind somewhere far away. Pushing down rising concern, Legolas knelt before Elrohir and unlaced his boots, slipping them from his feet. Then he loosened the ties of his tunic and shirt. Still Elrohir stared into the middle distance, seeing nothing.
Legolas retrieved a soft cloth from the side table and dipped it into the shallow basin of water beside the bed. With great gentleness he knelt again before Elrohir and washed his forehead and cheeks with light strokes of the cloth. The younger twin blinked, blinked again, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Legolas took his hands in his, rubbing his wrists lightly with his thumbs. Elrohir shuddered and tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Please,” he said through the tears.
Reading the need in his eyes, Legolas stood and enfolded him in his arms. Elrohir's silent sobs shook them both, tears dampening the shoulder of his tunic. Neither spoke; the only sound in the room was the crackle of the flames and Elrohir's harsh breathing. Legolas rocked him gently, murmuring soft nonsense in his ear, offering only comfort.
At last the tears slowed and stopped, leaving Elrohir warm and limp like an elfling in his arms. Though he still looked somewhat dazed, there was nothing of the awful blankness in his gaze. Watching carefully for any sign that his ministrations might be unwelcome. Legolas began to undress him, removing tunic and undershirt, then moved across the room. He poured water from the cauldron into the waiting tub and added water from the pitcher beside the bed until the bath steamed invitingly but would not burn. Then, with the same firm but careful movements he helped Elrohir to his feet once again. Keeping his eyes on Elrohir's expression, he undressed him completely then urged him into the bath.
Silence wrapped them in a comforting blanket. Elrohir closed his eyes as Legolas poured water over his head and began to wash. A slight smile touched Elrohir's lips and any tension that remained in his body drained away. Legolas washed him tenderly, thoroughly and Elrohir leaned into the touch. Encouraged, Legolas began to massage his shoulders and neck, offering wordless comfort.
Elrohir sighed deeply. “Your hands are amazing,” he said.
Legolas murmured his thanks, working his way down Elrohir's back working each of the muscles in turn. Slowly he transitioned to a smoother stroke. Elrohir did not pull away, but continued to lean into him. Perhaps he needed something more, Legolas thought. He slid his hands across Elrohir's sides and caressed his chest. Elrohir hummed his pleasure.
“You are quite beautiful,” Legolas whispered in one ear and was rewarded by the flush that crept up Elrohir's neck and stained the tips of his ears.
Encouraged, Legolas allowed one hand to slip beneath the water and tease the inside of Elrohir's thigh. Elrohir's let fell open at the touch and Legolas nibbled lightly at his neck. The younger twin gave a slight gasp but did not retreat. Legolas could hear his heartbeat pick up, his breath growing ragged. Legolas drew him to his feet and wrapped him in a large white robe, holding him close against him for a long moment. Then he positioned him close to the fire and allowed the robe to fall open. The flames cast a golden glow on Elrohir's skin and his rising desire. Legolas sank to his knees before the younger twin and took him in his mouth, suckling slowly.
Suddenly there was a hand at his chin, urging him away and Legolas looked up in surprise. Had he read him wrong?
“You do not have to do this,” Elrohir said. But his voice was rough with desire and his eyes were full of wanting.
Legolas frowned slightly. “Of course I do not have to. Do you not desire it?”
Elrohir laughed, a sharp sound without mirth. “One would have to be blind not to desire you.”
“Then it is because I am as Aileth named me – whore.”
Elrohir went completely still and his eyes flashed. “Do not think to tell me why I feel as I do,” he snapped. “My concern is not about your profession.”
Unsure whether to believe him or not, Legolas asked, “Why then do you not wish to take the comfort I offer freely?”
Elrohir brought Legolas to his feet then, closing his robe and tying it, he returned to the bed. He perched on the edge and motioned for Legolas to join him. For a long moment he stared into the fire. “'Tis not that you are a courtesan. I have known this since before I met you,” he said slowly.
“Why do you not allow me to serve you,” Legolas interrupted, unable to remain silent. He had never expected that Elrohir would have known all along and still associate with him as though he were.... someone else. Someone more. Someone real.
“Because while I desire you, I do not desire your service.” Elrohir replied, still gazing into the fire. “I do not wish you to act out of obligation. Or pity. If ever this does happen between us, I want it to be different. I want it to be about us.”
Legolas frowned, puzzled. “It is about us. I wish to comfort you.”
Elrohir finally turned to meet his eyes. He smiled. “There are other ways to comfort. If that is your wish, I will accept.”
Legolas nodded. “What do you need,” he asked earnestly.
“Simply lie beside me and hold me,” Elrohir said. Though he seemed confident, his voice was small. Legolas pulled back the coverlet and the sheet, allowing Elrohir to slip beneath, then covered him and laid beside him on top of the bedclothes. He wrapped his arms around him and Elrohir laid his head on his chest.
“Do you wish to tell me about the song,” Legolas asked after a while. He stroked Elrohir's hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ears.
Elrohir held his silence for so long that Legolas began to believe he would not reply at all. Legolas glanced down at him – perhaps he had fallen asleep? But no, his eyes were still open, though he seemed to be looking at something not in the room. At last he sighed. “It is a song Lindir wrote for me an age ago. After my naneth's journey West and the loss of my betrothed.”
For a moment Legolas' fingers stilled, then resumed their stroking. He should have known Elrohir had a partner. Perhaps this was why he refused his advances – his betrothed waited for him still on the shore of the Undying Land.
“I almost lost myself to the wasting of grief unmourned,” Elrohir continued. “It was my fault they were lost and so I desired to join them. Lindir wrote the song and it unlocked my grief. I mourned and so I healed, though I did not desire it at the time.”
“And now,” Legolas could not keep himself from asking, his hand stilled once again.
Elrohir shrugged. “Many years have passed.”
“As though that changes anything.”
“It dulls the ache,” Elrohir replied.
It wasn't an answer, and yet Legolas supposed that it was. He did not press any fruther. Instead he pulled his pipes from his pack and played softly as Elrohir slipped into sleep.
Rating: NC-17 this chapter
Pairing: Elladan/Lindir, Elrohir/Legolas
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Chapter 6 – Hunt
After that day on the practice field things shifted between Legolas and Elrohir. They both found excuses to pass time together and no matter what they were doing, from games of strategy to weapons practice to silent strolls through Imladris' many gardens, they found much pleasure in each other's company. Though Legolas was certain this had not escaped the notice of other Imladran nobles, it seemed as though being in the company of one of Lord Elrond's sons put him above petty gossip. He was not disabused of this notion for many weeks, and they were some of the most pleasant he could recall, above even those he had spent with Erestor engaged in training. He believed this was not least because Elrohir seemed to delight in his presence, apart from duty or necessity. More surprisingly, apart from desire as well. Though there were instances when Legolas would feel Elrohir's gaze lingering upon him, especially when they were in the baths together, or on the training field, never once did the younger twin express an interest in taking their relationship beyond the platonic.
Legolas himself certainly found Elrohir quite beautiful, but he would not cross the boundary unbidden. It was not his place. And more, he was unsure whether Elrohir's tastes ran to males as well as females, as his own did, or whether his preferences were more traditional. He did not want to give offense by making assumptions but, more importantly, he did not want to take any action which might risk the fragile friendship that seemed to be growing between them.
It was a most uncommon experience for him, and quite unsettling. Ever since he passed his majority the people of Mirkwood knew what he was to become and so either steered clear of any association with him or else attempted to gain his special favor. When he visited Imladris for training it seemed as though most knew why he was there and the others saw him as nothing more than one of Erestor's pupils. Neither had given him opportunity to forge a relationship separate from his persona. Having this chance was immeasurably freeing.
So, when Elrohir invited him to join Elladan and himself along with a small group of the Imladran guard on a short hunt, Legolas agreed with barely a moment's hesitation. A band of orc had been sighted near one of the human settlements that had grown up just beyond the outskirts of Elrond's lands. Though they had not yet attacked, all knew it was only a matter of time. Lindir's family lived nearby, so he would be joining them on the journey out though he would not join the hunt. It was his younger sister who had braved the trails alone to bring news of the orc to Lord Elrond, and to Legolas surprise she would be the one guiding their group.
The elf-maids Legolas had experience with would no more dare to travel without escort than they would undress in public. The very idea would likely send them into fits of shrieking and fluttering. The thought of leading a group of guardsmen in pursuit of orc would never even cross their minds as a possibility. Legolas found himself most curious to meet her. And not least because she was Lindir's sister. There was some possibility that he had spoken to her of Legolas, that she would know what he was. He decided not to worry about it until he could be certain – but he would do his best to discover what she knew as soon as possible. Most importantly, if he could he would keep her from speaking of it to Elrohir. He knew he would have to explain at some point, but he hoped to keep that conversation far in the future.
On a whim, Legolas wrapped his pipes carefully in an extra shirt and placed the small bundle carefully in the top of his pack. He cast one last quick glance around his chamber to make certain he was not forgetting anything. His eyes fell on the parchment from Erestor, still sitting where he had left it on the top of the desk. He had not thought about it since his first night in the Last Homely House and now he could not remember why he had saved it. Without a second thought he crushed the parchment in one hand and dropped it into the waste basket on his way out the door. As he sprinted down the stairs, he adjusted the straps of his bag and settled it more securely on his hip, out of the way of his knives.
When he reached the courtyard, Elrohir and the rest of the guard were waiting, though Elladan and Lindir had not yet joined them. Even before he was introduced, Legolas recognized Lindir's sister. Though her hair was red where her brother's was silver, she was just as tall as he was, standing shoulder to shoulder with the guard and nearly reaching Elrohir's formidable height. Her gaze was similarly sharp, observant and inviting at once. Her movements were graceful as she spoke as much with her gestures as words and her laughter, at something Elrohir said, was mellifluous. But more than anything it was her voice that was familiar. Though she had not followed in Lindir's footsteps to become a bard, the quality and tone of her speaking voice alone would have guaranteed her an audience.
“Legolas, I do not believe you have met Lindir's sister, have you,” Elrohir asked as he joined them.
“No; I have not had that pleasure.”
“That shall be remedied then. Legolas, meet Aileth Sherlindiell. Nowhere will you find a more talented tracker and woods-woman. She spent many years with the Dunedain and it is she that trained Aragorn in all he knows. Aileth, this is Legolas Thranduilion of the Woodland Realm. He is a most impressive archer.”
“Mae govannen,” Legolas said, extending his hand.
When their eyes met, hers had gone hard. Though she clasped his forearm in the traditional greeting, her grip was more forceful than strictly necessary.
“I have heard much about you,” she said. Her voice was cool and distant. “If you will excuse me, I must make sure my horse is ready. Lord Elrohir, Prince Legolas.” The title was bitter in her mouth.
Legolas nodded slightly as she strode away. He wished the ground would open and swallow him, or that someone would come and distract Elrohir, but neither did. At last he was forced to glance up at Elrohir, who was watching Aileth's retreating back with a slightly furrowed brow. He waited for the inevitable question about her attitude, expecting the worst. Though Elrohir's gaze was once again puzzled and slightly wary, but her did not mention Aileth's behavior.
“I believe Lindir and Elladan are finally ready,” he said instead – nodding past Aileth to the approaching pair.
Legolas found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. “I am ready to be off,” he said with more emphasis than he had intended.
Elrohir grinned. “I, too, have been longing for a taste of adventure. Though being home has its benefits, if I stay too long I begin to feel a bit caged.”
“'Twill be good to be on the road once more,” Legolas agreed.
“We could have been gone much sooner, had this slug-a-bed not kept me waiting,” Elladan said, elbowing Lindir.
“Me,” the bard replied with a look of affront. “Who was it that could not leave without his treasured dagger?”
Elladan shook his head. “Mistrels. They have no respect for a warrior's tools of the trade. If I said about his precious lute half of the things he has said about my weaponry...” he let the sentence trail off meaningfully.
“Elflings,” Elrohir interrupted. “If you are finally prepared, Aileth has been waiting for a quarter hour.”
The couple glanced over at the elleth, who was already astride her horse, arms crossed. Elladan looked slightly abashed and Lindir actually blushed. “I am sorry, muinthel-neth,” he called. Those gathered chuckled, but Aileth did not acknowledge the apology. Lindir shrugged. She raised a hand and the group mounted, galloping from the courtyard in her wake.
They continued at that pace for much of the morning and into the early afternoon. They did not stop for lunch, merely taking a bite of lembas and a drink from their water-skins as they rode. They needed to make good time on this leg of the journey because once they left the settlement they would have to travel on foot to keep from alerting the orc to their presence.
They halted only briefly at the little town to stable their horses at the one small inn. Lindir said his goodbyes to Elladan as Aileth spoke to the innkeeper, asking if there had been any changes with the orc since she had been gone. The man looked pained. The first attack had taken place several days prior, and now the townspeople were unwilling to leave their homes except at extreme need. Just the day previous one of the smaller dwellings at the edge of the village had been burned, its occupants – an elderly couple had been killed. Though a few of the more seasoned Men had attempted to track them, expecting to find the usual obvious orc trail, they had been confounded.
Aileth nodded, then returned to the small group. “It is as I feared,” she said. “The violence has escalated even in the short time I was gone. And the pattern is unusual – instead of ravaging and moving on, this band seems to be staying nearby, tormenting the villagers as they please.” She considered for a moment, eyes sharp upon them all. “We will separate into two groups of four. Elladan will lead one group, I will lead the other. We will search the surroundings for the rest of the afternoon and meet at the edge of the Bruinen an hour before nightfall. Whichever group finds the trail, mark it well, but do not attack without the rest. We do not yet know what we face,” she warned. “Elrohir, you're with me.” There was a brief flash in her eyes as she said this – there and gone almost before Legolas noticed. It was a look he knew well, one of heat, desire... and doubt. Elrohir, however, did not seem to notice, looking neither pleased nor distressed to be chosen. Her expression, when she turned to Legolas, had chilled. “You will also join us,” she said. He could read the distrust in her body, as she held it stiff. She would watch him. And she would judge. She would not trust him alone with members of her guard until he had proven himself.
Elladan's group moved off to the west, disappearing into the surrounding forest with barely a ripple of leaves to show their passing. Once they had gone, Aileth held up a hand and led the way to the east. They moved quickly, silently, senses extended, bodies fairly vibrating with tension. They spread out but kept each other in sight. Aileth was to Legolas' left, red hair shimmering in the sun. Elrohir was to his right, slipping through shadows as though a part of them. The forest around them was alive with noise. Birds called from high above, flying over with rustling wings. Crickets sang in the brush. Leaves whispered on the breeze. All seemed normal, at peace.
They ran through the afternoon, covering ground quickly and purposefully, but they saw no sign of their quarry. No carcasses, no spoor. There was no hint of orcish stench on the light wind, no tension in the animals around them. Legolas was beginning to think they would not be successful that day, when suddenly Elrohir gave a muffled cry. Before Legolas could ask what had happened, a piercing whistle broke through the silence. Aileth's group came together at once, heeding Elrohir's call.
“Elladan and the others are under attack,” he said. His face was bone white, his eyes gone black with suppressed rage.
“Lead us there,” Aileth said, wasting no words.
Elrohir took off like an arrow loosed from a bow. Without a moment's hesitation Legolas followed. Still moving silently they darted through the forest, now gone silent and still. Legolas' heart pounded somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He hoped no one had been hurt.
They heard the battle before they saw it. Swords clashed and rang, mettle to metal. Orc growled, goblins shrieked. They topped a hill and saw it below. Elladan's small group was surrounded and outnumbered. They had drawn together, back to back; they fought with grim determination. The sun flashed off Elladan's sword as he slashed and thrust. His eyes shone with hate.
Without thought Legolas raised his bow, notched an arrow and released instantly. His arrow sang as it flew true, embedding in an orc's throat and sending the beast sprawling. Others joined his and the air was alive with their song. The orc turned to confront this new threat. With a ringing cry, Elrohir raced down the hill, his eyes alight with a terrible joy, sword unsheathed. He did not slow to heed Aileth's call, commanding him to hold. The younger twin would protect the elder. Legolas hesitated for but a moment, knowing if they rushed in it could make the archers' job more difficult to separate friend from foe, then followed him into the heat of the melee.
The stench hit him first with an almost physical blow. Of equal parts rotting flesh, old blood and bog, it was like nothing else and something he could never become immune to. He nearly gagged, but forced it down. Then they were upon him and other thoughts fled. Unlike his practice with the twins, there was no finesse in the attack of the orc who confronted him. There was only brute force, hack and bite. He deflected the first blow easily, turning it aside and hewing the orc's head from its neck. Even as it fell another rose to take its place. Its eyes burned cold, but there was no hate, only a thirst for violence and pain. No soul looked out from those eyes and Legolas shivered, even as he ducked under the beast's sword and thrust his own deep in its belly, spilling entrails in a black wash of blood.
“No!” Elrohir's voice, strident with pain and fear. Legolas' attention immediately shifted. Had he been hurt? An orc pressed the advantage of Legolas' distraction, knocking his sword from his hand with a well paced blow to his wrist. Fortunately it was struck down by an arrow through the neck before it could do any more damage.
Undaunted, a goblin climbed over the dead body of its fallen comrade, leaping and Legolas with teeth and claws bared. Legolas raised his arms in defense, but was knocked backwards, falling to the ground, breath lost momentarily. Claws raked across his face in a blaze of pain, bringing Legolas back to himself. He kicked out, catching the goblin in the knees. Bones cracked and the thing fell with a howl. Legolas grabbed his sword and ran it through.
He gained his feet and looked frantically for Elrohir. He caught sight of him at the edge of the battle, backed against a tree, his brother lying at his feet. An orc had him hard pressed to defend them and another was steps away. Legolas was too far to reach them, Aileth no closer he realized with a sinking feeling. Her face mirrored his dismay. He sent a silent prayer to the Valar, raised his bow, notched an arrow and loosed it in one smooth movement, notching and firing another before taking a breath. In the space of a heartbeat both beasts fell, one wounded, the other killed outright. Elrohir decapitated the wounded orc, then looked up, searching out his rescuer.
As argent eyes met his, Legolas felt something catch in him. Elrohir smiled slightly and nodded. A peculiar warmth flooded him and he had to look away. His gaze was caught by Aileth's. A frown marred her expression, despite his success. Or because of it?
Suddenly realizing the forest had gone still once again, Legolas discovered the skirmish had ended. The Imladrin guardsmen were piling the orc carcasses together to burn. Elrohir was bent over Elladan. Aileth moved to another fallen guard who was cradling a wounded leg. Legolas crossed the ground, mindful of fallen swords and made his way to Elrohir's side. “Is he gravely wounded?”
Elrohir looked up. “Fortunately not, thanks in no small part to your aid. He has a minor wound to his shoulder, but received a blow to the head. He is unconscious. If you would assist me, I will attempt to wake him.”
“Of course. What must I do?” He knelt beside the brethren.
“I am going to enter a healing trance. I wish to make certain the head injury was not too damaging, and attempt to alleviate some of the pain before I wake him. I have depleted much of my body's resources in the fight and I do not believe I have the energy store myself. If you would allow me, I would borrow some of yours.” He paused and met Legolas' eyes. “'Twill not hurt, but you will feel drained and perhaps a bit dizzy for a few moments. Food and sleep will restore you.”
“I am not concerned,” Legolas reassured him. “Do whatever you would. I know you would not harm me.” Indeed, in all of his interactions with the twin he had felt naught but respected. It was not merely the politeness of one noble's son to another but something else, something deeper, though Legolas could not put a name to it.
The tiniest frown creased Elrohir's brows, but then he smiled and it was as though the sky brightened. “Hannon lle, mellon-nin,” he said. “Now, please place one hand upon Elladan's arm and one on mine. Close your eyes... listen to my voice... let all else fade from your thoughts... follow your breath as it flows through you.”
Legolas complied, feeling his lungs expand and contract as he breathed.
“As you inhale feel yourself going deeper within... float down... and down... and down.”
Legolas descended slowly, borne upon the lilting tones of Elrohir's voice. The words ceased to hold meaning as he was encompassed by darkness. Then a light appeared, pulsing as if with his heartbeat. He focused on it and his vision cleared to reveal Elrohir beside him. He tried to ask where they were, what this place was, but he could not form sentences, or words, or even sounds. The younger twin took his hand and smiled and there was a strange, rushing sensation and the darkness returned. At the edges of his awareness he heard Elrohir's voice murmuring Elladan's name.
Slowly they came to a halt. Before them stretched an amazing lattice of light strands. Some were straight and clear and shone with a strong light. Others were mirky, dim and these twisted together into knots of varying size and complexity. Still holding Legolas' hand in his, Elrohir reached out with the other. Gently, with nimble fingers, he tugged a strand tighter here, loosened one there and several knots pulled free. As they unravelled all of the strands glowed even brighter until Legolas was blinded. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he was once again kneeling in the soft earth of Arda. His head swam and his legs tingled, blood returning to his limbs, as he attempted to rise without success.
“Slowly,” Elrohir warned as Legolas moved. “Give your body a moment to adjust.”
Legolas remained where he was, breathing and trying to reorient himself. “That was... amazing. What was it?”
“Those were the lines of energy that flow through Elladan. Each creature in Arda has similar lines and betimes healers are able to manipulate them to offer succor.”
“Will Elladan be all right now?”
“He will still need time to recover, but I have hastened his healing.”
Slowly a bit of color began to return to Elladan's skin, though he was still and his features were pinched with pain. As Legolas watched, his eyelids flickered and opened. His focus turned unerringly to his twin. “'Ro. What happened? Were we victorious? Were any lost?”
Elrohir smiled, squeezing Elladan's hand. “Indeed we were, muindor nin. None were lost, though Galen seems to have been wounded. There will be time for the full tale when you have rested. You were sore wounded. We will take you back to the village for the night and if I deem you fit, we will return to Imladris on the morrow.”
Elladan opened his mouth to protest, but Elrohir cut him off with a glance.
“Remember the last time you pushed yourself too far too soon. You were abed for a sennight.”
Elladan sighed deeply, but did not refuse. “At least I had company,” he said with a slight smirk.
“You will tonight as well, if I know Lindir at all.” Elrohir sounded exasperated, but his eyes were warm and soft on his brother.
Suddenly feeling as though he were intruding Legolas stood and made his somewhat unsteady way to where the last of the orc were being piled. He offered to light the pyre and struck a piece of flint against his sword. The tinder laid around the edges caught quickly and the whole went up with a roar. Legolas stood back, watching as the flames devoured all in their path – wood, leather, flesh and bone alike. The air took on the acrid scent of burning hair, but Legolas did not move away.
There was a slight sound behind him, and then a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned and came face to face with Aileth. She was scowling; her eyes reflected the flames.
“What in the name of the Valar did you think you were doing ignoring my order to hold your ground?”
Legolas flushed. “I suppose I did not think. I merely wished...”
“Indeed you did not think,” she cut in. “You endangered Elladan, Galen and everyone in our group. You may be Thranduil's son, but that means less than nothing when you are under my command. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Legolas said simply, dropping his gaze.
“Aileth, do you not think you are being a bit hard on him,” Elrohir asked as he joined them. “After all, 'twas his bow that saved 'Dan and me.”
“It is likely you would not have been put in danger in the first place had he not broken my order.”
Elrohir gave a snort of laughter. “I broke it first, if you recall. You cannot chastise him without doing the same to me.”
Aileth's eyes narrowed, but her voice was less hard. “Do not think you are immune simply because you were attempting to protect your twin.”
“I would not dream it,” Elrohir said placatingly.
The tension left her shoulders as she allowed herself to be mollified. “Perhaps if you agreed to eat with me this evening I could be persuaded to forgive you both.”
“As it pleases you, my lady,” Elrohir said with a courtly bow. To Legolas' intense surprise, the elleth actually flushed and, with a crooked grin, dropped a curtsey.
“This eve, then, my lord.” Without another look at Legolas she turned and gave a sharp whistle. “We will return to the inn for the night to allow Elladan and Galen a chance to rest. Tomorrow we return to Imladris,” she said.
Their progress back to the village was slow in deference to the pace of the wounded, but they reached the inn before nightfall. In gratitude for their assistance in dispatching the orc, the innkeeper gave them each their own room and free food and drink for the night. This announcement was met with a rousing cheer from the Imladrin guardsmen and they set to with gusto.
For the first time since he had met Elrohir in the library, Legolas found himself alone. Lindir had gone immediately to Elladan's chamber and Aileth sat close beside Elrohir with shining eyes, listening intently to whatever tale he spun. There was no mistaking her expression and it was equally clear that she wanted no one else's company. Though the guardsmen had never been exactly cold to him, neither did they invite his company, closing rank at their table as he turned his gaze in their direction. And so he sat alone, eating and drinking in silence. Fortunately the inn had a minstrel of some small skill and so he stayed and listened as the night wore on and those around him grew boisterous with drink and the heady feeling of a battle won.
No matter how rigorously he attempted to keep his focus on the woman who sang, Legolas found his eye wandering across the room to where Aileth and Elrohir sat with heads bent toward each other, red hair bright against dark. At first neither glanced his way, or indeed at anyone else in the room. It was as though they were alone in a place of their own. Legolas tried not to imagine what passed between them, but images rose unbidden. Hair like flame spread across white sheets. Dark hair hanging down like a curtain. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. What did it matter if they did take pleasure in each other? It did not. He repeated the words to himself like a mantra.
He almost had himself convinced when movement from their table drew his eyes once again. Aileth had her hand at the small of Elrohir's back and her head leaned against his shoulder as she whispered a question into his ear. Legolas' mouth went dry. He strove to tear his gaze away when Elrohir shook his head slightly. Aileth snatched her hand away as though he had burned her. The younger twin pushed back his char and stood, making a small gesture toward Legolas. Aileth tossed a glance over her shoulder once, frown etched deeply between her brows. Her mouth twisted as though she tasted something bitter and she turned back to Elrohir.
The minstrel chose that moment to take a break to get a drink and the ensuring silence allowed Aileth's words to be heard clearly over the chatter of the other patrons. “You would prefer to spend the remainder of your evening with him? A whore?” Her voice was sharp with disbelief.
Legolas' heart stopped. The surrounding conversations fell momentarily then rose again as though nothing had happened. The music resumed at that moment, so Legolas did not hear what response Elrohir made, if any. Legolas gaze dropped instantly back to his table. His whole body went cold as though he had been drenched with ice water. If there was a chance Elrohir did not know, it was gone now and with it any hope...
Of what, exactly, Legolas asked himself. There was nothing to hope for beyond the services he could provide. Erestor had taught him that and taught him well. He would wait, finish his drink and hopefully by the time he finished both Elrohir and Aileth would have retired to their rooms. If he were especially fortunate, everyone would depart and spare him the humiliation of having all of those eyes upon him as he retreated. He took another sip of ale, wishing it were something stronger, something actually capable of getting him truly inebriated. Lacking that option, he contented himself with the slight tingle that was beginning in his fingers and toes.
“Legolas, may I join you?”
He looked up, startled, to find Elrohir standing by his table. The younger twin looked neither angry nor disappointed, but his expression was difficult to read. “Of course.” He wished he had something to offer, but he only had his half finished drink. He grasped his cup in both hands, fiddling with it nervously. He could not meet Elrohir's gaze.
“I have not had the opportunity to thank you for everything you did for Elladan... and me... today.”
Legolas' head shot up at the unexpected words and even more unexpected warmth in Elrohir's voice. “It was nothing,” he mumbled. “Merely what anyone would do in my place.”
Elrohir shook his head. “It was not nothing. I told you before – I do not mouth mere platitudes. I mean what I say.”
“I meant to offense.”
Elrohir sighed with a hint of exasperation. “And I do not take any. Are you always so reluctant to accept praise?”
“Not when it is deserved,” Legolas said, at last realizing he was not to be cut off from his presence – at least, not yet. “You are welcome for any assistance I offered today. I only wish I had been able to keep your brother from being wounded.”
“As do I. But he is a warrior and would not take to kindly to being coddled as an elfling,” Elrohir said with a small grin. “Both of us are well aware of the dangers inherent in hunting orc. But 'tis more important to protect Arda and those who dwell within than it is to remain safe.”
There was a strange light in Elrohir's eyes as he spoke and Legolas wondered at it. “Of course you are; I meant not to imply otherwise,” Legolas said.
Elrohir reached across the table and put a hand on Legolas' arm. “We seem to be bent on misunderstanding this night,” he said carefully. “It seems as though something has shifted between us. What is it?” He narrowed his eyes at Legolas, searchingly.
Legolas glanced away and traced his finger through the rings of condensation his cup had left on the table. What could he say? 'I am distressed because you know what I am and thus we may be at the end of our friendship'? Even were Elrohir not a noble, even were they not in a very public place he could not admit such a thing. And so he equivocated. “I am merely surprised that you interrupted your evening with Aileth to tell me something which could have waited until the morrow.”
“Our evening was complete,” Elrohir said somewhat sharply, but when Legolas risked a glance at him, his eyes were turned elsewhere, the look of distaste clearly not directed at him. Then his focus returned to Legolas and Elrohir smiled. “I did not believe the thanks should wait. Too many times such things go unspoken. I do not believe it should be that way.”
Legolas nodded, though he was still somewhat perplexed. What did this young son of Lord Elrond want from him? He knew, that much was clear. Was he paving the way for a more intimate relationship? Though it was not acceptable for one of such rank to dally with one of his own station, still it happened – in secret. Perhaps Elrohir needed the semblance of friendship to keep the thought of anything more from his father. Or perhaps, he thought suddenly, this was a test fashioned by Lord Elrond himself. But what would he be testing? Legolas' honor in not seducing one of Elrohir's station? Or his abilities to offer himself to anyone who desired, as he might need on the quest?
The music shifted then, becoming more melancholy, a song of mourning and loss, drawing Legolas out of his reverie. It sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. As the minstrel began to sing it came to him – in the Hall of Fire on his first night of his return to Imladris. Suddenly remembering Elrohir's reaction as well, Legolas turned to him, thinking to distract him with a question, or perhaps suggest taking a breath of air outside. But when he saw Elrohir, words died on his tongue leaving him speechless.
His face had gone completely white, except for dark shadows ringing his eyes. His lips were compressed into a thin line; his whole body had gone rigid and so still that Legolas wondered whether he yet breathed. But it was his eyes that brought Legolas to his feet. They had turned so dark they were almost entirely pupil and in their depths Legolas could see ghosts and shadows. He moved around the table and laid a gentle hand on Elrohir's shoulder. The twin did not acknowledge his presence with even the flicker of an eyelid. His whole being was trained on the minstrel in the front of the room.
“Come Elrohir,” Legolas coaxed. “'Tis late. We should sleep before dawn breaks.” Elrohir still did not seem to have heard him, but when Legolas put a hand under his elbow, urging him to his feet, his body complied. Legolas helped him from the room, guiding him so he would not stumble.
As he did not know where Elrohir's room was, Legolas brought him to his own. The chamber maids had lit the candles in sconces along the walls and on the bedside table. A fire burned in the fireplace, casting a cheery light and warmth into the room. They had also left a cauldron of water over the fire so there would be hot water for a bath and tea. The only furniture in the room was a bed, the side table and a large tub for washing, so Legolas lowered Elrohir to sit on the edge of the bed. The younger twin followed the direction as he had all along, with body but mind somewhere far away. Pushing down rising concern, Legolas knelt before Elrohir and unlaced his boots, slipping them from his feet. Then he loosened the ties of his tunic and shirt. Still Elrohir stared into the middle distance, seeing nothing.
Legolas retrieved a soft cloth from the side table and dipped it into the shallow basin of water beside the bed. With great gentleness he knelt again before Elrohir and washed his forehead and cheeks with light strokes of the cloth. The younger twin blinked, blinked again, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Legolas took his hands in his, rubbing his wrists lightly with his thumbs. Elrohir shuddered and tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Please,” he said through the tears.
Reading the need in his eyes, Legolas stood and enfolded him in his arms. Elrohir's silent sobs shook them both, tears dampening the shoulder of his tunic. Neither spoke; the only sound in the room was the crackle of the flames and Elrohir's harsh breathing. Legolas rocked him gently, murmuring soft nonsense in his ear, offering only comfort.
At last the tears slowed and stopped, leaving Elrohir warm and limp like an elfling in his arms. Though he still looked somewhat dazed, there was nothing of the awful blankness in his gaze. Watching carefully for any sign that his ministrations might be unwelcome. Legolas began to undress him, removing tunic and undershirt, then moved across the room. He poured water from the cauldron into the waiting tub and added water from the pitcher beside the bed until the bath steamed invitingly but would not burn. Then, with the same firm but careful movements he helped Elrohir to his feet once again. Keeping his eyes on Elrohir's expression, he undressed him completely then urged him into the bath.
Silence wrapped them in a comforting blanket. Elrohir closed his eyes as Legolas poured water over his head and began to wash. A slight smile touched Elrohir's lips and any tension that remained in his body drained away. Legolas washed him tenderly, thoroughly and Elrohir leaned into the touch. Encouraged, Legolas began to massage his shoulders and neck, offering wordless comfort.
Elrohir sighed deeply. “Your hands are amazing,” he said.
Legolas murmured his thanks, working his way down Elrohir's back working each of the muscles in turn. Slowly he transitioned to a smoother stroke. Elrohir did not pull away, but continued to lean into him. Perhaps he needed something more, Legolas thought. He slid his hands across Elrohir's sides and caressed his chest. Elrohir hummed his pleasure.
“You are quite beautiful,” Legolas whispered in one ear and was rewarded by the flush that crept up Elrohir's neck and stained the tips of his ears.
Encouraged, Legolas allowed one hand to slip beneath the water and tease the inside of Elrohir's thigh. Elrohir's let fell open at the touch and Legolas nibbled lightly at his neck. The younger twin gave a slight gasp but did not retreat. Legolas could hear his heartbeat pick up, his breath growing ragged. Legolas drew him to his feet and wrapped him in a large white robe, holding him close against him for a long moment. Then he positioned him close to the fire and allowed the robe to fall open. The flames cast a golden glow on Elrohir's skin and his rising desire. Legolas sank to his knees before the younger twin and took him in his mouth, suckling slowly.
Suddenly there was a hand at his chin, urging him away and Legolas looked up in surprise. Had he read him wrong?
“You do not have to do this,” Elrohir said. But his voice was rough with desire and his eyes were full of wanting.
Legolas frowned slightly. “Of course I do not have to. Do you not desire it?”
Elrohir laughed, a sharp sound without mirth. “One would have to be blind not to desire you.”
“Then it is because I am as Aileth named me – whore.”
Elrohir went completely still and his eyes flashed. “Do not think to tell me why I feel as I do,” he snapped. “My concern is not about your profession.”
Unsure whether to believe him or not, Legolas asked, “Why then do you not wish to take the comfort I offer freely?”
Elrohir brought Legolas to his feet then, closing his robe and tying it, he returned to the bed. He perched on the edge and motioned for Legolas to join him. For a long moment he stared into the fire. “'Tis not that you are a courtesan. I have known this since before I met you,” he said slowly.
“Why do you not allow me to serve you,” Legolas interrupted, unable to remain silent. He had never expected that Elrohir would have known all along and still associate with him as though he were.... someone else. Someone more. Someone real.
“Because while I desire you, I do not desire your service.” Elrohir replied, still gazing into the fire. “I do not wish you to act out of obligation. Or pity. If ever this does happen between us, I want it to be different. I want it to be about us.”
Legolas frowned, puzzled. “It is about us. I wish to comfort you.”
Elrohir finally turned to meet his eyes. He smiled. “There are other ways to comfort. If that is your wish, I will accept.”
Legolas nodded. “What do you need,” he asked earnestly.
“Simply lie beside me and hold me,” Elrohir said. Though he seemed confident, his voice was small. Legolas pulled back the coverlet and the sheet, allowing Elrohir to slip beneath, then covered him and laid beside him on top of the bedclothes. He wrapped his arms around him and Elrohir laid his head on his chest.
“Do you wish to tell me about the song,” Legolas asked after a while. He stroked Elrohir's hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ears.
Elrohir held his silence for so long that Legolas began to believe he would not reply at all. Legolas glanced down at him – perhaps he had fallen asleep? But no, his eyes were still open, though he seemed to be looking at something not in the room. At last he sighed. “It is a song Lindir wrote for me an age ago. After my naneth's journey West and the loss of my betrothed.”
For a moment Legolas' fingers stilled, then resumed their stroking. He should have known Elrohir had a partner. Perhaps this was why he refused his advances – his betrothed waited for him still on the shore of the Undying Land.
“I almost lost myself to the wasting of grief unmourned,” Elrohir continued. “It was my fault they were lost and so I desired to join them. Lindir wrote the song and it unlocked my grief. I mourned and so I healed, though I did not desire it at the time.”
“And now,” Legolas could not keep himself from asking, his hand stilled once again.
Elrohir shrugged. “Many years have passed.”
“As though that changes anything.”
“It dulls the ache,” Elrohir replied.
It wasn't an answer, and yet Legolas supposed that it was. He did not press any fruther. Instead he pulled his pipes from his pack and played softly as Elrohir slipped into sleep.
