Summer Rains

Summer Rains

Posted: January 25, 2008
Title: Summer Rains
Series: Renewal of Seasons
Sequel to: Hope Springs Eternal
Author: Inwe Saralonde
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrohir/Lindir, Elladan/Saelbeth, Legolas, Lothvaen, Elrond
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this.
Warnings: Angst, fluff, sex, all rolled into one…
Beta: Aglarien. All other mistakes are mine.
Author's Note: This story is the third in ‘The Renewal of the Seasons’ series, which I had originally begun writing in 2004. ‘Summer Rains’ was written in early 2005, and has been languishing on my hard drive ever since. Considering there are supposed to be four stories (one for each season) in the series, I figured it was time to get this looked at and posted. Hopefully, it won’t take another three years before the fourth story is done.

Summary: Legolas returns to Imladris; Lindir and Elrohir have a falling out; Elrond is trying to work out what his happening; while Erestor and Glorfindel find themselves separated.

*****

“Legolas has returned.”

Elrohir turned at his lover’s words, a frown marring his otherwise beautiful face.

“Why?”

“He brings a message from his father to Lord Elrond.”

The twin shook his head, a little perplexed. “Why was not a messenger sent? Certainly there was no need for Legolas to come deliver this message, especially as he had only been here a few months previously.”

“It may have something to do with Lothvaen,” Lindir said quietly.

Elrohir stilled. He had avoided talking about Legolas since their last conversation just before the prince had left Imladris. For a time he had even thought that his lover may have had some feelings for Legolas before finally managing to dismiss them. Now those feelings returned, and doubt as to how stable his relationship was with Lindir began to creep in. He took a deep breath before replying. “It may or it may not. Or possibly the message King Thranduil sent was so important that he could only entrust his son to bring it here. I would not concern yourself as to the reasons, Lindir.”

“I feel sorry for Legolas.”

“Well, do not! The Mirkwood Prince does not need or deserve your pity. He is also quite capable of looking after his own affairs without you trying to meddle in them.”

“I am not meddling! Lothvaen loves him, and I think Legolas has some feelings for him as well. He even asked for Lothvaen shortly after his arrival! Something happened between them before the prince left…”

“Yes, I know.” Elrohir’s voice betrayed his irritation. “Legolas had barely left before you approached Lothvaen with your pathetic attempts to learn what *might* have happened.” Lindir’s eyes widened at Elrohir’s words.

“Pathetic attempts? He was upset, Elrohir!”

“You *think* he was. He did not appear so to me. You seem to see more than what is actually there. If I remember correctly, you were unable to ascertain anything. You are letting your imagination run away with you.” Elrohir sighed. “I know Lothvaen is your friend, but he is a grown elf. *If* something occurred, then leave it for him and Legolas to sort out, if there really is something between them as you seem to think. It is none of my affair, and most certainly not yours!”

“You still have not forgiven Legolas, have you?”

“Forgive him? He tried to take you away from me! As it is, I have barely forgiven him for what he did to my brother. I can not for the life of me understand why *you* have forgiven him,” Elrohir snapped angrily as he paced the room. He stopped in front of the minstrel.

“I forgave Legolas because I care. He is lonely, Elrohir. He needs someone to love *him*, not because of his title or his looks.”

“You care? Are you trying to tell me something, Lindir?” The look Elrohir gave made the minstrel flinch.

“No! You know I love you! How could you even suggest otherwise?” Lindir cried.

“Stay away from him,” Elrohir warned. “I do not want you near him. I do not want you trying to interfere with whatever is or is not happening between him and your friend. Do I make myself clear?”

Lindir stared at Elrohir disbelievingly. He had no idea his lover’s feelings against Legolas ran so deeply. He swallowed.

“And what happens if I refuse?”

It was Elrohir’s turn to stare at Lindir.

“Refuse? You *will* do as I tell you!” Elrohir’s voice was harsh, and Lindir winced as his lover grabbed his forearm.

“Let go of me, Elrohir.”

“Not until you agree to do as I ask.”

“Ask? Ask?! You are not asking, Elrohir! Nor does it answer *my* question! Are you going to punish me if I refuse? Flog me? Lock me up? What?”

Elrohir’s grey eyes bored into his lover’s green ones. “You speak nonsense, Lindir,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. The minstrel recognised the tone; it meant Elrohir was at the very limits of his patience.

“Let go of me, Elrohir,” Lindir asked again, his voice tremulous.

Elrohir released him and stepped away, his eyes never leaving Lindir’s face.

The minstrel resisted the urge to rub where Elrohir had gripped his arm, but knew there would be bruising later. “Why are you behaving like this?” Lindir asked.

“You have not agreed to do as I ask.”

Tears welled up in Lindir’s eyes. The kind, caring elf he knew had been replaced with one who was vindictive and jealous. If he were not seeing it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it of Elrohir. “You are afraid,” he said, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “You have no need to be. I love you Elrohir, only you. There will never be anyone else for me. But that does not mean I can not care for others around me. Yes, I forgave Legolas, because I believed – and still do believe – that his actions stemmed from his own desire to have someone care for *him*. I am sorry you do not see that.”

“I do not see it because I have known him for much longer than you have! I have seen how he treated my brother and left him with a broken heart. It took Elladan years before he was finally able to pick up the pieces and learn to trust someone again! You are merely condoning Legolas’ behaviour!”

“I am not condoning it! I only said I believed I knew why he did it! He only needs to be given the chance to prove he is not as bad as it is claimed. I think with Lothvaen he has that chance.”

Elrohir’s face was a mask of anger. “So you are going to deliberately disobey me,” he hissed.

“Disobey?” Lindir stared at Elrohir. “Why are you behaving like this? I do not understand…”

“You *refuse* to understand!” Elrohir approached his lover. “I will not tell you this again Lindir; stay away from Legolas.”

“No. I will not…” The sharp sound reverberated around the room, stunning both elves into silence. His eyes wide in disbelief, Lindir began to step away from Elrohir, the red cheek in stark contrast to the pallor on the rest of his face.

Elrohir lowered his arm. “Oh sweet Elbereth, what have I done,” he whispered. “Lindir, melethen, I am so sorry! Forgive me! I never meant to harm you!” He began to walk towards the minstrel, contrition on his face.

“No! No…stay away from me!” Lindir stumbled on a rug in his haste to get away. “How could you?” Tears now flowed freely down the minstrel’s face.

“I did not mean to! Please, Lindir…” Any remaining words were lost as Elrohir watched Lindir flee from the room.

************************

Glorfindel sighed as he stared at the wall outside Elrond’s office. How was he going to tell Erestor?

“Can someone else not go?” he had asked of Elrond when told of the request.

“I am sorry, mellonen, but Celeborn has requested for you especially. He believes that, while the Galadhel are proficient with their swords, improvements can still be made. Both he and Galadriel fear that bow and arrow will no longer be sufficient, and I can only concur. You will leave tomorrow morning for Lothlórien.” Elrond had sighed then, and had looked out of the window before continuing.

“You know as well as I the yrch have been increasing in number. Their forays are becoming bolder, more vicious, and more frequent. You have seen this yourself.” Glorfindel had made to speak, but Elrond raised his hand. “I know you feel you are needed here, but Elladan and Elrohir are as capable as you, and will run the patrols in your place. The Shadow is slowly, inexorably creeping its way across Middle-earth, and we must do all in our power to slow its progress.” Elrond had looked back at Glorfindel, a sad smile on his face.

“They have need of you in Lothlórien, mellonen. I know it will be difficult for you to go; your bond with Erestor is incredibly strong. I wish I could let him go with you, but I have need of him here.”

They had both looked silently at each other.

“I will go, my lord,” Glorfindel had said quietly, breaking the silence that had somehow become oppressive.

His mind back in the present, he found he was still staring at the wall. Sighing once more, he made his way to the library and Erestor.

***

Opening the door to the library, Glorfindel found Erestor ruefully surveying the bedraggled quill in his hand. Mîr was sitting on the desk, her ears pricked at the sound of the opening door, though her green eyes were fixed on Erestor.

Turning his head, Erestor waved the now useless quill at Glorfindel. “Look at what she has done! She has ruined my favourite quill!”

Glorfindel smiled in amusement. “And I presume she has been severely chastised for her misdemeanor?” he asked, making his way to the desk.

Erestor merely sighed and looked at the now half-grown cat. “I find it difficult to chastise her when she looks at me like that.”

Glorfindel’s smile turned to a grin. “She has you wrapped around her little paw, melethen,” he said, walking around the desk and gathering Erestor in his arms. “You spoil her, give her little treats; you have too kind a heart, which is totally at odds with the severe image to try to project. ‘Tis one of the reasons why I love you, ervainen vorn, and I feel privileged to be able to see this side of you; one that others rarely, if ever, see.”

“Hmpf,” was Erestor’s only response as he relaxed in Glorfindel’s embrace, putting his head on the golden-haired warrior’s shoulder.

“I am afraid I have some bad news for you, melethen,” Glorfindel said. Erestor raised his head and looked at Glorfindel warily. “I must leave tomorrow for Lothlórien. Lord Celeborn has requested that I go there help the guards improve their skills with the sword.”

“Then I am coming with you. I will go and see Elrond now and…” Erestor got no further as Glorfindel placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

“Elrond has already said that you can not accompany me; he has need of you here,” he said gently.

Erestor looked at Glorfindel. “I do not want you to go,” he said softly.

Glorfindel stroked Erestor’s cheek, unable for a moment to speak. They continued to look at each other, oblivious to everything else around them.

Finally Erestor broke the silence. “How long will you be gone for?” he asked.

“I do not know. Possibly two months, maybe even more.” Glorfindel sighed. “I do not wish for this any more than you do, ervainen vorn. But I can not ignore Lord Celeborn’s request.” He smiled down at Erestor. “At least you will have Mîr to keep you company.”

At the sound of her name, Mîr padded silently across the desk, and Erestor began stroking her. She arched her back in pleasure, and the faint rumbling sound of purring could be heard.

Erestor smiled briefly. “Yes, she will keep me company, but she is not you, pen-valthennen.” He looked at his mate. “Come. Let us spend the rest of the day together. I can finish this report tomorrow after you have gone.” Taking Glorfindel by the hand, the two elves made their way out of the library, leaving Mîr to finish off destroying the quill entirely…

***

The two elves woke up the next morning, Erestor feeling safe, as he always did, in Glorfindel’s arms. They had spent the night gently making love, whispering words of endearment. Neither of them was willing to let go of the other, but Glorfindel reluctantly made his way out of bed.

Erestor watched silently as his mate dressed. Once the golden-haired warrior had fastened his cloak, Erestor left the bed and wrapped his arms around Glorfindel once more. “You have not gone, yet I already miss you.”

Glorfindel sighed. “As much as I would like to stay and keep holding a luscious, naked elf in my arms, I must go, melethen.” He kissed Erestor gently on the lips. “Melin chen, ervainen vorn.” He smiled at his mate, though his eyes betrayed his sadness at leaving him.

“Melin chen, pen-valthennen,” Erestor whispered, trying to return the smile.

“The time will pass quickly; I will be back before you know it,” Glorfindel said. But both knew that the separation would be difficult. It would be the first time they would be separated for longer than a few days. “I must go.”

Erestor nodded, unable to reply. Glorfindel kissed him fiercely before hurriedly leaving the room.

Throwing a robe around himself, Erestor walked out onto the balcony. Asfaloth was saddled and waiting in the courtyard for his master, and whinnied when he saw Glorfindel approaching. Erestor saw Glorfindel appear with Elrond, the Imladris Lord talking earnestly with his Captain, obviously imparting some sort of message he wished Glorfindel to take.

Erestor gripped the balcony railing as he watched his mate mount Asfaloth. Glorfindel turned and saw Erestor, and raised his hand in farewell. Erestor returned the gesture and, his eyes fastened resolutely on Glorfindel, watched as the warrior left on his journey to Lothlórien.

*************************

Elrond sighed and took another sip of the miruvor. Life was certainly never dull where his children were concerned. Arwen, his daughter, had decided to remain with her grandparents in Lothlórien. While he did not begrudge her wanting to stay with Galadriel and Celeborn, the fact was that he missed her. She had a calming influence over her brothers that was sorely missed every time she went away.

Her brothers. Elrond had realised something was amiss when Elrohir appeared in the dining hall by himself the previous evening. All attempts at determining where Lindir was met with non-committal answers, and Elrohir had seemed…agitated. More disturbing had been the less than friendly looks Elrohir had been directing at Legolas. And that morning there had been no sign of either his youngest son or the minstrel. It was not until after breaking his fast that Elrond found out Elrohir had gone out on patrol, and would not return for at least two weeks.

Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Elrond had made his way to the chambers Elrohir and Lindir shared, only to find out from the maid that Lindir had returned to his old rooms. Totally mystified by the turn of events, Elrond had then progressed to Lindir’s old rooms. The pale face that had greeted him left him in doubt there was something seriously wrong.

“What happened?” Elrond had asked without preamble.

“We had a disagreement, my lord, nothing more,” had been Lindir’s flat response.

“A disagreement?”

“Aye. But it has been resolved.”

“Resolved? I find out that Elrohir has gone on patrol, and you have moved back into your old rooms, and you call it ‘resolved’? What, *exactly*, was this disagreement about?” The commanding tone of Elrond’s voice had left no room for argument.

“We disagreed about Legolas.”

Elrond merely nodded, encouraging the other elf to continue, and then stood in growing disbelief as the story had unfolded. “He hit you?” the elf-lord had asked.

“Aye, but he apologised, both after the fact and then again later, and I accepted it.”

“Did you?” Elrond had asked mildly. “It seems strange to me that, if you had accepted his apology, that you still see the need to move back to your old rooms and he to go out on patrol.”

The response had come reluctantly. “Elrohir does not know I have moved.”

“I do not condone my son’s behaviour, Lindir; he had no right to strike you. Yet he apologised. Have you truly accepted his apology? Or is this some sort of punishment you wish to inflict on him for hurting you?”

The tears had been streaming down the minstrel’s face. “I…I do not know if I can trust him any more, my lord,” Lindir had whispered. “When he accused me of having feelings for Legolas, when he struck me…I am afraid of him.”

His mind back in the present, Elrond could not help but be worried for Elrohir. At this point in time, emotionally his son was as fragile as Lindir, and Elrond could see Elrohir throwing himself into unnecessary danger to try and alleviate the pain he was in. The elf-lord spoke the truth to Lindir when he said he did not condone Elrohir’s behaviour, but he knew his son well enough to know that his actions would haunt him for a long time to come. Elrond could only hope that Elrohir did not do anything foolish and that, upon his return, he and Lindir could somehow try and re-establish the trust in their relationship. But it would not be an easy thing to do. Elrond suspected that it would be a long time before Lindir truly forgave Elrohir.

Then there was Elladan. For so long he had waited for his eldest-born son to speak to him that he had almost given up hope. Almost, but not quite…and then Elladan had finally approached him, and Elrond had listened to him, wishing he could once again take his son upon his knee as he had done when Elladan was an elfling needing comfort. What Elladan told him was nothing new; what was more important was that Elrond finally heard how Elladan felt, how it had affected him. Elrond had already known that Celebrían had asked Elladan to join her, as she had told him some weeks into her convalescence.

“I am glad he did not,” she had said to him quietly. “He would have fought to the death, and what was done to me would still have…” Her voice had trailed off at that point, and Elrond had raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.

“Do not think badly of him for not going with me, please. I do not; far from it. I am glad he refused, for I do not believe that I could survive knowing I had led my son to his death.” She had looked at Elrond then, the pain of what had been done to her still evident in her eyes, though the marks on her body had long since begun to fade.

Elrond sighed again. No, he had never blamed Elladan; it would have served no purpose. And he knew Celebrían’s words to be true; she would not have survived had Elladan gone with her and been killed. Though she had never said it, had never showed it, Elladan was her favourite, her first-born, the one who held a special place in her heart. He hoped now that Elladan would find happiness and love with Saelbeth; more importantly, accept the love that Saelbeth could give him. The young elf from Mirkwood reminded him in many ways of himself. He smiled. Yes, Saelbeth would be good for Elladan.

Finally, there was Legolas, the one who had caused the disagreement between Elrohir and Lindir. The Mirkwood Prince intrigued him. Oh yes, he had heard the stories, knew what had happened between Legolas and his son. But there was something about him…an air of vulnerability…

Finding his goblet empty, Elrond poured himself some more of the miruvor, wondering what it was that had brought the prince back to Imladris. Was there someone here who had captured Legolas’ interest? He recalled the incident with Lothvaen the last time the prince left Imladris. There really was no reason for Legolas to have brought the message from his father when a normal messenger would have done. No, there was definitely something going on, Elrond mused, as he took another sip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A little while earlier…

Elladan watched Saelbeth as he was swimming. He had remained hidden, not wanting to alert the other elf of his presence. For a long time he had debated with himself as to whether his relationship with Saelbeth should progress further still. After the incident of his crying on Saelbeth’s shoulder, Elladan had felt ashamed. He had not cried like that since he was an elfling, and he had always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. He had not even cried when his mother had departed, though both Elrohir and Arwen had openly cried at her leaving; even his father had shed a tear. But he could not. It was as if something had been locked up within him until Saelbeth had spoken to him. Since then, Elladan had been friendly, but distant; he still felt a twinge of embarrassment at the memory. Yet it had felt so good to be held by Saelbeth; the embrace had been warm, comforting, safe…and loving.

“Do you wish to join me, or do you intend to try and remain in hiding, Elladan.” The voice startled Elladan from his musings. Raising his head, he saw Saelbeth standing a few feet away from him, wearing nothing but a wet loincloth that clearly outlined what was underneath. Elladan swallowed.

“I sensed your presence a long time ago, mellonen. Why do you sit here amongst the trees? Or are you continuing to try and avoid me?”

“I am not avoiding you!”

Saelbeth came closer to Elladan. “No?” he asked softly. He knelt down on the ground and, with hands upon his knees, surveyed the dark-haired elf in front of him. “Will you not talk to me?”

“Talk to you?” Elladan looked at Saelbeth in surprise. “I am talking to you now; I have always been talking to you!”

“Maybe so, but you have kept your distance. You have been polite, almost formal. I thought we were friends, Elladan.”

“We are friends.” To Elladan’s ears the statement seemed lame.

“Are we? Your behaviour to me changed after…what happened some months ago.”

“When I cried on your shoulder,” said Elladan tightly.

“Was that so terrible? You were carrying an unnecessary burden, Elladan, one you needed to get rid of.” Saelbeth leaned forward a little, an earnest expression on his face.

“By crying?” Elladan shook his head. “And this ‘burden’ you speak of,” he continued bitterly, “is one I can never completely get rid of. I will never forget it, Saelbeth, never. I should have been there; I know I could have made a difference! Do not,” he said, raising his hand warningly, “speak to me of fate. I was supposed to have been with her, and I was not.”

“What do you mean, you were supposed to have been with her?”

“Exactly what it is supposed to mean! I should have accompanied my mother, but I was too caught up…”

“Caught up with ‘what’?” Saelbeth asked.

“Caught up with my lover,” Elladan said quietly, his eyes focused on the ground at his feet. “I put myself first, my *selfishness* first, and my mother paid a terrible price.”

Saelbeth looked at Elladan, not knowing what he should say. “Why do you feel you should have accompanied her?” he finally asked.

“Because Naneth asked me to go with her! And I refused. I told her I wanted to spend time with my lover, and she said she understood. No one else knew she had asked me, Saelbeth, no one.” He raised his head to look at Saelbeth. “That is why I blame myself for what happened, because I was not there for her. I failed her, I failed Adar, I failed everyone.”

“You did not fail…”

“Of course I failed! I failed because I let my own selfish needs outweigh the needs of my mother! If Adar ever found out…” Elladan’s voice trailed off. He got up from the ground, a haunted look on his face. “I am sorry, Saelbeth.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for making you believe there may someday be something more between us.”

Saelbeth got up, his eyes never leaving Elladan’s face. “What happened to your lover?” he asked.

“I broke off with him right after Elrohir and I brought Naneth back,” Elladan replied.

“But you must have had other lovers since,” Saelbeth pointed out.

Elladan turned his head away, shrugging slightly. “What does it matter whether I have or have not?”

“A great deal, Elladan. You fear to love.”

“I do not fear to love!” Elladan hissed, turning back to Saelbeth.

“Yes, you do.” Saelbeth’s voice was implacable. “Are you afraid that history will repeat itself? That if you have another lover someone else would get hurt? To my mind that is a strange way of thinking.”

“I do not care if you think it strange, Saelbeth. I just…can not.”

“Speak to him.”

“What?”

“Speak to your father.”

“Are you mad? Do you truly expect me to go to him and say ‘it is my fault that Naneth was attacked?’ Contrary to what you may think, Saelbeth, I do not have a death wish!”

“I never said you did.” Saelbeth stared at a point past Elladan’s shoulder before returning his gaze to the other’s face. “Go speak to him.”

“There is something you are not telling me.”

“Aye, there is something.” Saelbeth met Elladan’s gaze unflinchingly. “But it is not for me to say. Yes, your father and I have talked. He knows of my feelings for you. However, I will say no more. Go speak to him.”

“I do not know if I can…” Elladan whispered.

************************

The present…

Lindir strummed his lyre almost listlessly. Elrohir was due to return from patrol any day now. The minstrel wondered how Elrohir would react when he found out that Lindir had moved out of their rooms. Would he be happy? Lindir knew he was not. Despite what had happened between him and the youngest Peredhel twin, he loved Elrohir. He was the other half of Lindir’s soul.

And there was another thing concerning the minstrel – Lothvaen. His friend seemed more quiet than usual, and Lindir knew instinctively that Legolas was somehow involved. Not that the prince had actually done anything – of that Lindir felt sure. But the minstrel wondered if his friend had actually fallen for Legolas. If Lothvaen had, then Lindir only hoped that it would all work out. Perhaps Lothvaen had been able to reach the prince in some way that no other had been able to do, and the fact that Legolas was back in Imladris was something that Lindir saw as positive.

Lindir sighed. He knew he probably should stay out of other peoples’ lives, but he could not help himself. The minstrel just wanted everyone to be happy and to find love. Suddenly he heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard and knew that Elrohir had returned. Taking a deep breath, Lindir put aside his instrument and stood. He knew it would not take long before Elrohir appeared at his door, wanting an explanation. But the minstrel was prepared to stand his ground. Even though Elrohir had apologised for what had happened, Lindir was still hurting, not so much from being slapped, but by Elrohir’s behaviour in general. However, the minstrel would not allow himself to be forced to think a certain way, or be made to stop caring for others. And he was going to let Elrohir know in no uncertain terms that he would not forgive the Peredhel so easily, and that Lindir was going to stand his ground.

************************

A little while earlier…

“Why must you be so frustrating, so…so…stubborn!” Saelbeth strode towards Elladan and took his face between his hands. “Stop blaming yourself for what happened – you are not at fault. Do you really think that you would have made a difference? I have said this once before – if you had been there you would have died with the others, despite your prowess as a warrior. The others had prowess as well; efficient, well-trained warriors, yet they died, fighting to the last to protect your mother. Why will you not see that?”

Elladan looked at Saelbeth, and saw the love and worry in his eyes. He remembered when he had seen Saelbeth smile, a smile unlike what he had ever seen before, a smile that had made his heart skip a beat. Though there was no smile on Saelbeth’s face now, Elladan’s heart once more skipped a beat. Never had a lover – or potential lover – shown such emotions for him before. He looked at Saelbeth in wonderment. “You really do care for me,” he whispered.

“Of course I care; have I not been saying that? Or have you not been listening?”

“I…I am afraid.”

“I know. But you need not be. No one wants you to be afraid to love again, for whatever reason. Do not close off your heart, Elladan. In the end, you will only hurt yourself by doing so.” Saelbeth approached the dark-haired elf and placed his hand gently on Elladan’s cheek.

“Never forget you are loved, Elladan,” he whispered. “Not just by me, but by your father, Elrohir, Arwen, and by so many others here in Imladris.” He leaned in and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Elladan’s lips before drawing back.

Elladan’s lips tingled from the kiss. He put his arm around Saelbeth’s waist to draw him closer. They stared intently at each other before Elladan lowered his head and kissed Saelbeth, feeling the other elf’s arms snaking around his waist. This felt so good, so…right. Saelbeth’s lips parted under his, and Elladan’s tongue began an immediate exploration of the other’s mouth. He felt Saelbeth’s tongue dance with his, and he pulled the other elf closer to him still. Elladan felt Saelbeth’s arousal, and knew his own member was responding in kind. But he did not want to rush this; he felt it was important to take things slowly, one step at a time.

Reluctantly, they broke the kiss as the need for air became paramount. Hearts thudding, they remained where they were, arms still wrapped around each other. Elladan nuzzled Saelbeth’s ear, and he felt Saelbeth’s body tremble. He drew back and looked at the other elf; he saw that beautiful, beautiful smile gracing Saelbeth’s face, and he answered with one of his own. Then he sobered.

“I need to speak with Adar.”

“Have I not been saying you should do so this whole time?” Saelbeth said.

“Aye, you have,” Elladan said quietly. “I think I should tell him what I told you,” Elladan said quietly.

“You may find that he may already suspect, Elladan.”

“There you go again, presuming to know my father.” Elladan’s voice, though, held a teasing note.

Despite this, Saelbeth still felt a little embarrassed. “Forgive me,” he said, blushing slightly. He released himself from their embrace. “Go see your father.”

Elladan nodded. “Will you…will you come to my rooms tonight?” he asked, almost shyly. “I mean, just to talk, or maybe play a game of chess,” he added a little more rapidly.

Saelbeth smiled once more. “I think I would enjoy a game of chess,” he said, “though it has been a while since I last played.”

“You need not worry, Saelbeth; my skills are mediocre at best. Elrohir was always the better player of the two of us.”

The two elves looked at each other once more, and then Elladan turned and made his way back to the Last Homely House.

************************

The present…

Elrohir knew immediately it was his father as soon as Elrond opened the door. He had taken refuge in the library once he found no one was there. Elrond’s question was short and to the point.

“Why did you hit him?”

“I am sorry, Adar…”

“Sorry? It is not me you should be apologising to!”

“I have already apologised to Lindir! As soon as I had realised what I had done…” Elrohir closed his eyes.

“That does not explain *why*,” Elrond said, taking a seat next to his son.

“Did Lindir not tell you?”

“The only thing he told me was that you had had ‘words’, nothing more.”

“It was about Legolas.”

“I know this from Lindir, for he mentioned to me when I spoke to him,” Elrond said.

Elrohir nodded. “Did he also tell you that Legolas kissed Lindir the last time he was here?” He turned to look at his father and saw the puzzled expression on Elrond’s face. He laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, adar, he kissed Lindir. He tried to seduce Lindir. And Lindir forgave him.”

“And you disapprove.”

“Of course I disapprove! How can anyone forgive Legolas? Can you not remember what he did to Elladan, how he broke my brother’s heart with his dalliances with others? I was prepared to give him a second chance for Elladan’s sake, as Elladan did not want me to speak ill of him, but I am not prepared to give him a third one. Now Legolas is here again, and Lindir seems to think that Legolas just needs someone to care and love him for himself. He seems to think that someone is Lothvaen.”

Elrond rubbed his forehead with his fingers and sighed. “Elrohir,” he began, “what *exactly* did you say to Lindir?”

“I asked him to stay away from Legolas, to not interfere with what may or may not be happening between him and Lothvaen.”

“Asked…or ordered?” Elrohir remained silent, and Elrond sighed once more. “Listen to me, ionen. Do you know why Lindir is such a good minstrel? Because he sings and plays from the heart. Because he cares for others around him. That does not mean he overlooks their faults; rather, he will always see both the good and the bad in them.”

“I know he cares; he has a compassionate, forgiving nature. It was what attracted me to him in the first place,” Elrohir admitted reluctantly. “But why should he care about Legolas? Or forgive him?” he spat. He looked at his father, expecting to see anger there, but saw only love and understanding.

“You are afraid to lose him to another,” Elrond said. Elrohir nodded shamefacedly. “He loves *you* ionen, only you. But you need to accept the fact he will be always more forgiving and understanding than you, even towards those who you feel do not deserve it. He will never stop being like that. You can not order him or forbid him to do something. How would you feel if he tried to do that with you?” Elrohir grimaced. “Exactly,” Elrond continued. “You would not like it at all.”

The Lord of Imladris stood up and looked down at his son. “Go to him. He is in his rooms. Apologise to him once more. Love him. Pamper him. Most of all let him know that you accept he will not change. Can you do that?”

“I will try, Adar.” Elrohir looked at his father. “Can you forgive me?”

Elrond sighed and looked gravely at his son. “Yes, I can, but it will be his forgiveness that will matter more. Now go to him.”

Rising from his chair, a subdued Elrohir left the library, all of a sudden feeling afraid that Lindir was not going to listen to him.

************************

“Lothvaen?”

The scribe turned around in surprise at the sound of Legolas’ voice. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Legolas flushed slightly. “I came to see you,” he said quietly.

Lothvaen placed the book he had been holding carefully onto the table. “I heard you had returned to Imladris, Legolas,” he said carefully. “Why?”

“I had a message from my father to Lord Elrond.”

“Surely a messenger could have brought it here?”

“I volunteered.”

“I see,” Lothvaen said quietly. Nothing more was said for a time, both elves unsure of what to say next.

“How long do you plan to stay?” The scribe’s words finally broke the silence.

“I do not know, though I have told my father that I would not be returning immediately. That there was something which needed…to be taken care of…” Legolas faltered.

“Taken care of?” Lothvaen walked to the window, his feelings in turmoil.

“You said…you said you had something that you could give me.” There was a quiet desperation in Legolas’ voice.

“I remember.” Oh, how he remembered; even now Lothvaen could not believe that he had said those words to the prince. They had left him awake many a night, refusing to let him sleep.

“You are unlike any other elf I know, Lothvaen. Others seek my company and my bed because of who I am. They have never spoken of love, yet you…” Legolas stopped, staring at the rigid back of the scribe. “Do you offer it to me, Lothvaen?” he continued.

Lothvaen turned and looked at the prince. “What do you wish me to tell you? That I love you? Is that what you want to hear? And if I do tell you, what would be your answer? Would you throw the words back in my face, ridicule me? See me as another one of those besotted elves who were foolish enough to fall for you?” There was a hint of bitterness in Lothvaen’s voice.

“I know that for a time you and Elladan were lovers; they say you were callous and uncaring of his feelings for you, that you broke his heart. And you know I saw what happened between yourself and Lindir. How can I know you will not be any different now?” Lothvaen stopped and took a deep breath.

“Yes, I can offer you love, Legolas. But my questions are these: Can you treat my love with the care it deserves? Can you return my love with love? Do you have the answers to those questions, Legolas?”

“I do not know if I have the answers to those questions, Lothvaen,” Legolas said quietly. “But I want to find them. Will you help me?”

Lothvaen looked at the Mirkwood Prince, uncertainty warring with the desire to just throw himself at Legolas and kiss him senseless. Finally he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I will help you.”

************************

Elladan opened the door and ushered Saelbeth inside. He remained at the door, keeping his back to the other elf. He was nervous, though he tried desperately not to show it. Elladan felt that he had finally reached some sort of milestone, but was still unsure how he should react or behave.

“How did the talk with your father go?”

“Well enough,” Elladan replied. “Though he chastised me for being so foolish, and complained that I should have spoken to him a lot earlier than this.” He turned to look at Saelbeth. “He knew that Naneth had asked me to go with her,” he said quietly. Moving away from the door, he sat down heavily in a chair, his head bowed. “He does not blame me,” he continued softly, raising his head to look with sad eyes at Saelbeth. “He called himself selfish; that he was glad I had refused to go with her, for he believes that if I had I would not be here now. Adar said that what had happened to Naneth was bad enough; to lose me or my brother would destroy him.”

Tears began to fall unchecked down Elladan’s face, and Saelbeth moved quickly towards him, pulling Elladan out of the chair and taking him into his arms. He held onto Elladan tightly, feeling tears welling in his own eyes.

Finally, Elladan’s sobbing subsided and he raised his head, a watery smile on his face. “This is the second time I have cried on your shoulder,” he said.

“My shoulder is always there for you to cry on, Elladan,” Saelbeth said softly, gently wiping the last traces of tears off Elladan’s cheeks.

“I know,” Elladan said simply, and lay his head once more on Saelbeth’s shoulder, this time not to cry, but to enjoy the feeling of being held safely in another’s arms.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Lindir?” Elrohir knocked hesitantly on the door of the minstrel’s room. Since becoming lovers, Lindir had moved into Elrohir’s room, but when Elrohir had gone there, he had noticed with some consternation that Lindir’s things had disappeared. He had then hurriedly made his way to Lindir’s old rooms, and was now outside, waiting to hear Lindir’s voice. Elrohir had tried the handle, but found the door was locked.

“Lindir, please…I must speak with you! Will you not let me in? I want to apologise…”

“You have already apologised, Elrohir. Now go away; I do not wish to speak with you any further.”

Elrohir stood there indecisively. Now what was he supposed to do? He tried again.

“Lindir, this is not like you. Please…let us talk…”

“It was not like you to hit me, yet you did.” The door was flung open. Elrohir stared at his lover. Never before had he seen Lindir angry, yet the elf that stood before him most certainly was.

“You *hurt* me,” Lindir hissed. “Oh, not by your slap, but by the words you used, Elrohir. You implied that I could not be trusted, that I harboured feelings for Legolas, even though I told you that it was *you* I loved!”

“I was wrong, Lindir! I have no reason to doubt you, none at all! My words were rash, said in the heat of the moment…I know you love me, and I know you would not be faithless. I love you so very much…let me show you, melethen…”

“Do not call me that!” Shocked, Elrohir stood there, mouth agape.

“But…but…” Elrohir tried to bring out.

“But *what*, Elrohir?”

“You…you forgave Legolas…can you not…can you not forgive me?”

“Strange as it may sound to you Elrohir, it was easy to forgive Legolas. Did I not say I understood his actions? However, I do not understand yours. Moreover, unlike with Legolas, I trusted you, and now you have abused that trust. You need to accept that I will not change, and certainly not at your command.” Lindir paused, staring at the distraught face of Elrohir.

“As you have probably gathered, I have moved back into my old rooms. Do not,” he said, raising his hand as Elrohir made to speak, “ask me when or if I will move back in with you. I need some time to myself. Now, just leave me alone.” With that, Lindir closed the door, and Elrohir heard the ‘click’ of the lock.

“Oh Valar,” Elrohir whispered. “What have I done?”

************************

Erestor, in short, was miserable. Not even Mîr could cheer him with her antics. It had only been a week, but already the separation from Glorfindel was taking its toll.

‘Oh, Valar…at least another two months of this…’ he thought. Never would he had believed that he could be so intrinsically bound to someone, to the point where he felt his soul was being torn apart when being separated from them. He sat dejectedly at his desk, not hearing the door open.

“Erestor?” The figure stood in the doorway, waiting for a response. When there was none, he tried again.

“Erestor?” This time it was said a little louder, and Erestor started.

“Hmm? Lindir! I am sorry…my thoughts were elsewhere…”

“With Glorfindel, perhaps?” Lindir smiled as he watched Erestor’s face flush slightly. He approached the desk and sat down in the chair opposite Erestor. “You must miss him very much.”

“Yes, I do, pen-neth…very much so.” Erestor watched as Lindir picked up a quill from his desk and began twirling it in his fingers. “Did you wish to speak to me about something?” he asked gently.

Lindir nodded and took a deep breath. “It is about Elrohir. I suppose you know…that Elrond told you…” Erestor raised his hand.

“Yes, I do know, and I must say I am disappointed in both of you.”

“Both of us? But Elrohir struck me…he implied he didn’t trust me…why would you be disappointed in me?”

“Because you did not let the matter rest. No, let me finish, Lindir,” he said, not allowing Lindir to interrupt him. “What Elrohir did was wrong; he should not have struck you. I was sorely tempted to go and give him a piece of my mind when Elrond told me. However, I refrained, as difficult as it was.” Erestor rose from his chair and, making his way round the desk, held out his hand to Lindir. “Come, let us go outside and take a walk.”

Lindir took the proffered hand and allowed Erestor to lead him outside into the gardens.

Once outside, Erestor resumed. “You interfere,” the advisor said bluntly. “You would like everyone to have a ‘happy ever after’. I wish for that as well, pen-neth, but they need to find it at their own pace. I know Lothvaen is your friend and that you want to help. However, the best way to help him is to sometimes leave him be. The fact that he does not tell you everything does not mean that he does not want you to know, it is because he is trying to work things out without any interference.”

Lindir stared at Erestor, his mouth agape. “How do you know any of this?” he asked, the surprise clearly evident in his voice.

Erestor smiled ruefully. “I watch, pen-neth, more than you realise. Mayhap there is something between Lothvaen and Legolas, but let them sort it out between themselves.”

“Oh,” Lindir said quietly, not knowing what he really could say.

“Now, for Elrohir. You did not really give him a chance to speak, did you? Or was it that you dismissed him?”

“A little of both,” Lindir admitted.

“I think it is your turn to seek him out.” Erestor’s gaze was kind as he looked at the minstrel. “Elrohir can be a little…possessive, and likes others to agree with him. He will need to learn that you are your own person, and that you have a mind of your own. But, as I said before, you will need to…curb your inclination to try and ‘help’. It takes two to make a relationship work, Lindir. And that is something both you and Elrohir need to understand.”

************************

Wearily Glorfindel made his way to the rooms he shared with Erestor. He had been away for five frustrating, interminable weeks, almost counting down the minutes when he would return to Imladris and to Erestor. In the end Celeborn, seeing how badly Glorfindel missed Erestor, took pity on him and curtailed his visit to the Golden Wood.

“Go, mellonen,” Celeborn had said softly to Glorfindel. “While I would prefer if you could stay longer, I can see how much you miss your mate, and I have no doubt he misses you just as keenly. Next time we will try and arrange it so that he can come with you.” Celeborn had smiled when Glorfindel’s face lit up at the news.

“Thank you…thank you!” Glorfindel could not hide his happiness. “I will leave at first light tomorrow,” he had continued, only to then stop and look at the Lord. “By your leave, of course,” he had said, adopting a more formal tone in an attempt to curb his enthusiasm.

Celeborn had merely shaken his head. “If it were not so late in the day, Glorfindel, I would have expected you to leave immediately,” he had said, chuckling as the warrior’s face had flushed slightly.

Now he was home, having pushed himself and Asfaloth to the limit, barely stopping to rest in his eagerness to return. He paused on the stairs, a smile on his lips. All he wanted now was to wrap his arms around Erestor, to inhale his unique scent, to fall asleep with his mate in his arms. He did not feel up to anything more than that.

Opening the door to their rooms, Glorfindel looked around him in wonderment. Numerous candles had been placed around the room, their flames casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of roses hung heavily on the air, and no wonder; the bed and floor had copiously been strewn with dark red petals, their perfume released each time Glorfindel took a step.

‘I would hate to be the one who has to clean the floor.’ The thought came unbidden to his mind, totally at odds with the sensual atmosphere.

He stood in the middle of the room. ‘Have I missed something? Is there an anniversary we should be celebrating?’ Glorfindel could not, for the life of him, remember, and it left him feeling indecisive. Should he be doing something? If so, what? He tried to think frantically, but his tired mind failed to come up with anything

“Glorfindel.”

He turned to look at Erestor, his eyes widening at the picture his mate presented. He gazed hungrily at the vision. Erestor was wearing a deep, wine-red silk robe, the colour accentuating his dark hair and milky white skin. The robe had been loosely tied, and Glorfindel’s mouth watered, wanting suddenly to feast upon the flesh that had been exposed to his gaze.

“Welcome home, melethen,” Erestor said softly, smiling at the stunned expression on Glorfindel’s face. “I have a bath prepared for you after your long journey.”

“How…how did you…?” Glorfindel began to say.

“Know?” Erestor finished for him. “Galadriel had far-spoken with Elrond, telling him you were on your way. Elrond will tell you that since I found out you were returning I have been sitting staring out of the window, my work lying forgotten under my hands, a dreamy expression on my face. I have missed you so much…” Erestor’s voice had become husky.

“And I you, ervainen vorn…you have no idea how much…”

“Oh, I do, believe me. The bed was so cold, so empty without you by my side…I would clutch your pillow to me, inhaling your scent, trying to imagine that you were still here.”

“Shh…” Glorfindel approached Erestor and placed a finger on his lips. “I am here now, and I do not plan to leave again for a long time if I can help it.” He stared down into Erestor’s dark eyes that were shimmering with unshed tears. His eyes strayed down to ties of the robe, and Erestor chuckled.

“Do you want me to take this off?”

Glorfindel merely nodded, his mouth suddenly gone dry. He watched as Erestor slowly, tantalisingly, opened the robe before letting it slip from his shoulders onto the floor.

He stared at Erestor, struck anew at how perfect, how flawless, his mate’s body was. His gaze travelled down to Erestor’s arousal, the tip already dewy with pre-come, and he felt his own twitch in response, wanting to be let out its tight confines.

Erestor looked coyly at Glorfindel before turning and making his way to the bathing chamber. Glorfindel, meanwhile, was treated to the perfect view of Erestor’s backside, and he choked back a moan. His hands reached up to undo his travel-stained cloak, then his tunic, dropping them to the floor as he followed Erestor into the chamber. He hopped on one foot, and then the other, as he removed his boots. Next to be removed was his leggings, the loincloth being the last thing taken off, and Glorfindel sighed as his hard shaft was finally given its freedom.

His mate stood at the edge of the bath. By the Valar, he looked so enticing! Any tiredness Glorfindel was feeling had long since dissipated, to be replaced by desire. He reached out his hand and Erestor took it, both of them stepping into the bath together. Sitting down on the ledge within the bath, Glorfindel leaned back and gathered Erestor into his arms. He buried his face in Erestor’s hair, inhaling the subtle scent that was so unique to his mate – sandalwood and cinnamon, with a hint of cloves. He sighed and closed his eyes. He had missed holding Erestor in his arms so much.

“I hope you do not plan to go to sleep on me.”

Glorfindel opened his eyes. Erestor was looking at him, rather…mischievously, Glorfindel thought.

“No, I was not planning on sleeping, melethen. I was just thinking how much I missed having you in my arms.”

“Was that the only thing you missed?” Glorfindel was unable to reply; he could only gasp as Erestor’s hand made its way down to grasp his shaft, slowly stroking it.

“There…may be something…else…” Glorfindel managed to bring out.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Glorfindel could only stare, dazed, at Erestor. The look on his mate’s face was definitely mischievous, Glorfindel decided.

“Well? What else have you missed?” Erestor’s words snapped Glorfindel out of his reverie.

“Being inside you; you inside me; everything,” Glorfindel whispered, closing the space between them to kiss his mate. Erestor was still gently stroking Glorfindel’s erection, and it was taking all of Glorfindel’s willpower not to spend himself right then and there.

Glorfindel groaned when he felt Erestor’s hand move away. “Do not stop, melethen,” he pleaded.

“Who said anything about stopping?” Glorfindel watched as Erestor moved to straddle him.

“What…no, wait! I need to prepare you…”

“Shh,” Erestor said, placing a finger to Glorfindel’s lips. Carefully he impaled himself, a blissful smile on his face as he was filled with his mate’s hard shaft. He closed his eyes and sighed as he settled himself on Glorfindel’s lap, his hands on the warrior’s shoulders.

Glorfindel gasped. “You…you already prepared yourself,” he whispered.

“Did you think I could wait? I wanted to pounce on you the moment you stepped into the room, pen-valthennen. I had no desire to draw things out any further than necessary. So, yes, I prepared myself.” He began to move slowly.

“A pity.”

Erestor stopped quirked an eyebrow at Glorfindel’s remark. “A pity?” he questioned.

“Aye. I would have loved to have watched you,” Glorfindel murmured, his voice husky. “Your fingers slicked with oil, penetrating yourself…how I would have enjoyed seeing your fingers move in and out, stretching your opening, making yourself ready for me…” Glorfindel’s hands had grasped Erestor’s hips and, in a deft movement, had turned so that Erestor was the one sitting on the bench with Glorfindel beginning to thrust inside of him.

“Did you find that sweet spot inside yourself, Erestor?” Glorfindel continued. “Did your fingers find it? Did they rub over it, sending sparks of pleasure through your body? Did you imagine that it was me who was rubbing it?”

As if in confirmation, Erestor arched as Glorfindel’s shaft found that sweet spot, and he wrapped his legs around Glorfindel’s waist. “Yes!” he shouted. “Yes…yes…I did find it, and I imagined it was you, and now it is you, and…oh…harder…please…! Harder!” He shuddered as he came, his seed appearing pearlescent in the water. The words alone had triggered his release, and soon Glorfindel joined him, groaning as he came.

“So beautiful…so beautiful…” Glorfindel whispered, staring down at the flushed face of his mate. Then he stared a little ruefully around him. “We have made a bit of a mess, ervainen vorn.”

Erestor shook his head. “Trust you to ruin a romantic moment,” he groused.

Glorfindel had the grace to look a little shame-faced. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Erestor smiled a little at the expression on Glorfindel’s face. Taking Glorfindel’s face between his hands, he gently kissed him on the lips. “Let us get out of the water, melethen. We can worry about this later. Right now, all I want is for you to take me to bed and love me.”

And Glorfindel obeyed to the letter.

************************

Adar – father
ionen – my son
melethen – my love
melin chen – I love you
mellonen – my friend
mîr – jewel
Naneth – mother
ervainen vorn – my dark beautiful one
pen-neth – young one
pen-valthennen – my golden one
yrch – orcs

*****

THE END

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