Ionnath Estel 12

Ionnath Estel

Part 12

Posted: November 30, 2007
Title: Ionnath-Estel (The Sons of Hope)
Author: Kenaz

*****

The sun rode low in the valley, radiating gold through the plentiful pines on the land caught between the Bruinen and Horwell. Haldir shifted on the back of his horse, gauging what remained of the light with a doubtful eye.

"We will be covering the last leagues back under night's cloak."

"We are not going back,” Elladan replied with a sly smile, laughing at Haldir's expression of complete incredulity. “Not tonight, in any case." "Nor tomorrow or the next day if I have my way. Amroth departs in a sennight, and until then, he has given you leave, has he not?"

"Yes, but my absence...the others in the garrison will surely mark it when my cot stands empty for days on end."

Elladan shook his head. "They believe we have accompanied Cúron to see the horse fair in Bree."

Haldir frowned. "So Cúron knows."

First Cúron, then the rest of Gildor's men, and by set of sun tomorrow, all of Imladris would be crowing with the news that the low-born Wood-elf had been willingly lured from his righteous path, or that the eldest son of Elrond had turned aside a prince of Eryn Galen to sport with some ill-bred Lorien chuff. More than likely, the news would reach home even before he did.

"He surmised it at the feast." Elladan confirmed without concern. "In fact, he feared you would give yourself away." He edged his horse over to a sloping trail and gave the beast his head that he might pick out his own path down the incline. He did not look back at Haldir when he spoke again, and though his words sounded dampered in Haldir's ears, he could still hear the laughter in the Peredhel's voice. "He said he did his best to distract you, though I am flattered to think that you might have been pining for me over the roast boar."

So he had been utterly transparent! He silently berated himself for his carelessness. I should have known I would appear not only a benighted rube at the feast, but a besotted fool as well!

"You could have no stauncher ally than Cúron." Elladan's voice was earnest now, and softer as it filtered over his shoulder. "He knows much about the weight of secrets."

"And what does he know, that you believe it will stopper his tongue?" Haldir remained dubious and felt a glower creeping over his own features. He leaned back to accommodate his own horse's jerky downward strides.

When Elladan turned his head, Haldir saw that his face had lost its teasing mien. "Cúron's father was a follower of Fëanor, and took part in the slaughter at Alqualondë. He repented of his crimes and left his lord and the rest of his family and folk at Losgar, forswearing his oath, and took a new name. He came alone, after a time, to Brithombar."

Haldir's shock could not be hidden. Kind, ebullient Cúron, kin to a kinslayer? It beggared belief. He opened his mouth to say that he could not imagine that the slaughter of the Teleri-- from whom he himself was distantly descended-- could be excused by a few words of contrition and the parting of ways, but something stayed him, and in an instant, Caranlas' words of long ago were recalled: He carries the blood of the line of Finwë, who begat the kinslayer; that is Noldorin enough, do you not think? The brethren, too, had blood in common with Fëanor's line, and their own sire was fostered by two of Fëanor's sons. He snapped his mouth shut again, dismayed that he would have so easily and irrevocably blundered. Yet he understood now just how great the burden was that Cúron carried.

Elladan continued. "Cúron's father lived there in obscurity for many years and fell in love with a woman, and before he espoused himself to her, he told her of his past. Some kindness was granted him by the Valar: she forgave him his crimes. But others' memories were far longer, and he was hounded out of Brithombar when his provenance was discovered. His wife followed him into exile, and they made their way east, to Ossiriand. There they dwelt, happily enough, until Beleriand was unmade in the War of Wrath."

"And then?" With the specter of his own ouster weighing heavily on his mind, he desired to know the fate of those who had been forsaken by kith and kin.

"They came to Lindon and lived in peace for a time, and his wife got with child. Our Cúron, of course. But still his past followed them, and he feared some newcomer to Lindon would know him and unmask him, and he would again be cast out, and his breeding wife with him. They decided that it would be best if they parted, so that their offspring would not suffer the stigma of his history. No doubt they despaired at such a separation, but what else was there for them? He went forth to parts unknown and she remained in Lindon. Cúron grew up believing that his father had perished in a Goblin raid, and it was not until he came of age that his mother unveiled the truth of his lineage. He has met his father only once, on the battlefield in Mordor. He had joined with other exiles to fight against Sauron, all hoping their feats in battle might absolve them of their earlier crimes. The army of the Last Alliance was quick to accept their swords, but even in victory, slow to offer reconciliation. To Cúron's knowledge, his father roams even now with those few of his kind who survived, hoping that some day they might be granted forgiveness by the Valar, and that their family might be reunited in Aman."

"Would he not be welcome in Imladris? Would he not relish the opportunity for reunion with his wife and son? He cannot mean to wander forever, can he?"

Elladan shook his head. "Cúron begged for him to return to Imladris, knowing full well my father would pardon him, even welcome him, but he would not come. He feels it is his penance to roam. To be either an oathbreaker or a kinslayer is trial enough; the burden of bearing both crimes on his soul is something he believes only the Valar themselves could lift from him. In truth, I think he has become accustomed to the road, and does not wish to abide in some stolid little home even if he did believe himself welcome. After all, his son is a wanderer as well, and happy in that life.” His expression, to Haldir, seemed one of earnest appeal. “Now you must be the keeper of Cúron's secret, as he is the keeper of yours."

"By my life," Haldir swore, "not a word shall pass my lips." Strange, he considered, and sad, the things that some of us must hide.

By nightfall they had come to a small house made of stone and timber with a neatly thatched roof. It was more than a hunting cabin, yet small for an Elven dwelling. Elladan dismounted and began untacking his horse. Clearly, this was where he planned to stop.

"Who resides here?" Haldir asked, knowing full well through the depths of his skin that he had been brought to an assignation place.

"It belongs to Gildor, though of late he has dwelt in my father's house, at my father's invitation."

Again, the ways of the Noldor confounded him. No Silvan father would countenance the opening of his home to his child's paramour, even if they were on the cusp of their full stature and their troth plighted. Yet Elrond had brought Gildor -- a male, no less-- under his roof with his blessing. Had their courtship played out under the curious eyes of all of Imladris, just as their seduction had been fodder for the feast night crowd? His own courtship with Mithrellas had been more than circumspect, and largely chaperoned, to his infinite relief. And Mithrellas, if she were sorry for the dearth of private moments, was far too proper a lady to say so.

"Did your father foresee his relation with Elrohir? Had he no qualms about keeping his son's suitor so close at hand before they were old enough to court? Such a thing would have caused a scandal in Lorien!"

Elladan chuckled. "Clearly, the hidden valley is not the golden wood." He shook his head as he patted his horse’s neck and sent it off to graze. "It was a father's intuition alone that revealed Elrohir's interest. I might have boasted of some fraternal prescience myself if I had not been so preoccupied in my own brooding!" He angled a pointed gaze in Haldir's direction; Haldir smiled a private smile.

"No, he would not use his gift for such paltry visions as the love affairs of his offspring, nor can he command it to suit his own whims. I wager he initially made the offer thinking it more convenient for Gildor, as he was so often our guest, or Glorfindel's. He slept often in the garrison rather than come here. Soon enough, though, my father saw that Elrohir's head had been turned. Gildor's reputation is sterling. He never touched my brother in a manner unbecoming a lord and warrior until now, though no doubt Elrohir gave him no easy time of it."

Elladan opened the cottage door and gestured for Haldir to follow him inside. It was only one room, but a spacious one, and while sparsely appointed, what furnishings it contained were well-made and homey: a table and chairs, a washstand with a basin and ewer, an old settle up against the wall by the door over which Elladan had draped his cloak. Wood was neatly stacked beside a slate-lined hearth, and against the far wall, a wide bed stood covered with an eiderdown and plump pillows. A cot lay at its foot, but Elladan was quick to toss their packs on it as though it were nothing more than a place for storage, thus answering Haldir's unspoken question: he intended for them to share the bed.

Elladan had already begun to build a fire while Haldir surveyed the room, and the flicker in the hearth quickly drove away the damp. "I have brought enough for us to eat well tonight, and Gildor keeps some wine about." Even as he spoke, he was spreading the table with a small but savory travelers' fare: cheese and dried meat and fruit and bread. "We will have to hunt or fish tomorrow if we wish to keep ourselves fed."

The wine Elladan poured went straight to Haldir's head, and after he emptied his mazer, Haldir pushed it across the table, away from himself. If he were to do anything foolhardy this eve, he would fumble through it honestly, and without the false courage of drink. Yet as soon as the mazer was out of reach, he wished he might take it back so that he might have something to occupy his hands, which were now worrying the edges of his tunic as if there were some invisible stain set in the fabric that he might rub out. It was black outside now, he saw when he glanced out the open window. How quickly the sun had vanished and left stars in its wake! He dared not think too long on how they might pass the long hours until morning. He was no fool to believe that the looks Elladan had been giving him all through their meal had portended any plans for sleep. His mouth went unpleasantly dry.

Yet for all the bravado in his glances, Elladan, too, was ill at ease. He had nearly overturned the wine bottle more than once, and spoke too quickly, even tripping over his words now and then. Haldir reminded himself that Elladan was as much a stranger to seduction as he was.

Elladan rose and moved to the hearth. The fire within crackled hot and bright, more than sufficient to heat the room, yet Elladan threw on a final log. He moved like a shadow against the blaze, and Haldir watched the arch of his back and the stretch of his arms bending before the firelight with fresh longing. His pulse quickened, along with something else that he would not name. This, then, was the moment that everything would irrevocably change; there would be no going back. He drew in a breath and held it, and for a moment he saw himself as a bairn again, clinging to a mossy rock in cold water, feeling himself pulled out to sea, beyond reach, beyond redemption. Turn away, do not do this, some distant voice within him cried, yet he could do naught but silently shake his head. It was too late to turn away from this: the need that now called him was as implacable as the tide.

Elladan turned away from the hearth. Though his face was cast in shadow and Haldir could not see his expression, he imagined that he knew it well: a bold stare of brilliant grey, held in check by inexperience alone. Elladan reached up and tugged the leather laces from his plaits and shook out his inky mane over his shoulders, and Haldir sat transfixed. He unbuttoned his jerkin and let it drop heavily to the floor at his feet, and still Haldir did not move, rooted his chair by the twin weights of fear and desire. His linen shirt, pulled awkwardly over his head, joined the jerkin in a discarded pile. The firelight danced behind his back, limning him in a flickering halo. Haldir could see the silver of his pendant glowing dully on Elladan's chest, rising and falling with his breath, nestled in the tracery of fine, dark hairs that grew there, a badge of his Edain heritage.

"A thousand thoughts are crossing your face," Elladan whispered with perceptible uncertainty, the line between his brows evincing the sudden chink in his confidence. "Is this what you wished to see, Haldir?" It had been meant as an enticement, and yet it sounded almost a plea. "Is this what brought you from Lorien?"

Haldir's tongue was thick and cottony in his mouth, his lips sticking together as he tried to force out a throaty reply. "Yes."

"Do you want this? Tell me now or I will leave off. I would not importune you again as I did before."

Stiffly, Haldir nodded.

"Tell me," Elladan persisted, his demand still voiced in a whisper, his chest rising and falling with greater urgency now.

Haldir drew in a breath and it was loud, too loud, against the crackle and hiss of the fire and the songs of the nightbirds outside. His eyes were riveted to the pendant: the arms of the Peredhel's star reached out across the mallorn leaf; the leaf curled its edge around the star. The voice within him wailed, defeated.

"I want this, Elladan."

Six stalking steps from the hearth to the table and Elladan was on him. The very air in the room seemed alight with sudden fire and sweat was beading on his brow even as Elladan descended to devour him, his mouth hot and alive and hungry for him. His hands rose to tangle in the dark swath of hair that slipped over Elladan's shoulders to curtain them, to set them apart from the world. The skin of Elladan's back was flame-warm beneath his splayed hands, the muscles firm and shifting with his touch. The line of his spine stretched long, curving as he bent low, and Haldir followed it with his fingertips, tracing every knuckle of bone rising under taut hide until he reached the crest of Elladan's hind and the furtive territory that lay beyond, hidden still by breeches. Haldir was thick, he was swollen, ferociously hard, and constrained by clothing that cursed him with every pinch to remind him of the ill deed done here, but it was too late to repent of it; the path to his perdition unfurled before him, a straight course over the plain of a masculine back.

Insistent hands pulled at his tunic, at the worn shirt beneath, and he could barely coordinate his arms long enough to abet his own undressing, so entrancing was the mouth that suckled now at his neck, now at his shoulder, now at his breast. Elladan kneed his legs apart and sank to the floor between them, scrabbling at Haldir's breech-laces, and he stared with rapt fascination as Elladan pulled back the placket and loosed him from his garment. He moaned, oh yes, he moaned shamelessly. Who could keep silent at that first touch, at that first moment of pleasure wrought at another's hands? His shaft looked dark and full in Elladan's pale grasp, and he was roused by the sight of those long-fingered hands pulling him, working him with a singular determination to fetch him. He was utterly unprepared for the hot, wet rush of Elladan's mouth, a kiss like none he had ever dared dream, on that part of him that longed with feral desperation for the soft pull of slick heat. He cried aloud, gripping the seat of his chair lest his bestial hands wreak some lust-spurred violence on the one who plied such sublime torture.

Elladan fixed him with a stare from beneath hooded lids. The scrutiny would have unmanned him had the sensations that washed over him had not been so bewitchingly potent. All he could do was offer a rickety exhalation that sounded almost like laughter as Elladan dipped low, then pleasure wracked him to his core. A low keening in the back of his throat was the song of his ambivalence brought to bear: his body yearned to thrust until every drop of his seed was milked from him, but his mind revolted. Elladan was no trull to be set on his knees in base service to another's lust. He could not bear to see that dark and regal head bent at a whore's trick. He pushed Elladan away and drew him up, almost unable to meet his eyes.

"You must not... I cannot bear it," he whispered harshly.

Elladan's brow furrowed. His face was flushed, his pupils wide and black. "Was I too rough? I thought it would pleasure you...some say there is no delight more decadent..."

"...too decadent," Haldir interrupted. "I will not have you beneath me. Blood noble as yours should rebel at such ill usage."

"Ill usage?" There was umbrage straining Elladan's voice. "I would pleasure you, Haldir, not debase myself." But Haldir's detumescence checked further argument. Elladan made a noise of frustration. "Come and lie beside me, then," he growled, stalking to the bed, his own erection still straining avidly against his breeches. He stripped them off roughly and kicked them away from his feet, and for the first time, Haldir saw him in full flesh, his shaft swaying proudly, his bollocks hanging full and dark below. He watched Elladan hop up on the bed, bouncing once to measure its sturdiness, and for an instant, Haldir remembered the child Elladan had been, eager and indefatigable. But this was no child here, and he did not wish to test the Peredhel's forbearance further, not when he could still feel the lingering traces of those first incendiary touches on his skin. He stripped where he stood, in spite of his self-consciousness, and walked naked to the bed.

Elladan pulled him down impatiently and drew him near. They lay side by side, legs woven together, and Elladan kissed him again, full on the mouth, rutting hard against him. "Touch me, Haldir. I have waited so long..."

Yes, oh, yes. He reached between them and took that eager length in hand, and Elladan canted his hips and mewled into their kiss. How silken the flesh that encased the steel! How hot and hard in his hand! And oh...oh... how slick the head as pleasure took him, so like his own and not his own, a different curve, a different angle, a different experience altogether. When Elladan touched him again, the kisses soon ceased: they were both too far gone to do anything but moan in their bliss and rub rough and artlessly against each other, the sounds of breath and pleasure rising in the fire-lit room.

"Oh, Haldir, I..." A breath drawn sharp.

A sigh, warm against the skin of his neck "...yes..."

An upward thrust. "...do not stop..."

"...no..." A choked sound, a growl.

The feral scent of sweat. "...do not stop...!"

Eyes screwed tight shut, mouth wide...wider. "...Elladan...!"

Yes...yes...oh, yes. The edge of his vision went white, his hands and feet tingling, and then a hot rain fell against his stomach and Elladan was calling out for him, calling his name, and the rhythm of Elladan's hand against his flesh turned frantic until Haldir, too, was braying, braying and spent.

Weary breaths echoed in the room, and the air was heady with earthy aromas: burning fires, sweat, skin, and seed. Haldir turned his head on the pillow and met Elladan's gaze there. Elladan's smile was strangely shy, and for once the young Peredhel seemed at a loss for words, and it fell to Haldir to break the silence.

"Shall I bring something for us to clean ourselves with?"

Elladan shook his head. "No. Stay here."

Haldir obeyed, wondering how he could feel both so awkward and so enervated.

"I think I must be your student in this," he admitted softly, feeling the blood rise in his cheeks, "for I have no knowledge of... of what to do, other than to touch you."

Elladan rolled to his side and propped his head in his hand, his expression bemused. "Think you that I have any great wisdom? The library of Imladris may have some illuminating texts, but on this particular topic the tomes are silent, save the ones I am told that Erestor holds in his private collection, and I did not dare to ask for those!" He grinned a disheveled grin that Haldir could not help but return.

"What I know I have gleaned in the main from hearing the soldiers boast of their exploits. The rest is merely a stab in the dark." He chuckled at his own little jest and Haldir thought to chasten him with a pillow to the head, but could not muster the energy. "Could you not have imagined such things left to your own devices?" Elladan queried. "Do soldiers in Lorien not talk amongst themselves?" He caught himself, and his gaze briefly faltered. "About their female conquests, that is?"

Haldir reached for him and twined an inky lock around his finger. Elladan's hair was thicker and heavier than his own. "Some of the Sindarin men spin tales, but among the Silvans, to touch a woman intimately is tantamount to a betrothal, and no Galadhel would suffer the secrets of his marriage bed to be turned to gossip, even by his brothers in arms."

He watched Elladan's sleepy expression turn carefully blank. "So you have not touched your little forest maid as you have touched me?"

Evidence of Elladan's jealousy should have pleased his pride, yet it served as a stark reminder of the world which lay both behind and ahead of him, a world where such acts as those he had committed here were called despicable and profane, a surrender to lust that begot no fruit. "Most certainly not. But I will not discuss her here; it is not well done."

Another strained silence descended, and in his musings, Haldir recalled what Glorfindel had told him when he first arrived, that Elladan and Elrohir had gone abroad to hunt with Legolas.

"Did you bring Legolas to this place?"

Elrohir nodded, but the corners of his mouth turned up. "He shared the bed with my brother. I slept on the cot."

Some questions were best left unasked, and yet those were often the ones most difficult to avoid. Haldir found himself regretting his words before he had even spoken them, but if did not speak them, the need to know would only gnaw at his mind until it was sated. "If I had not come, would Legolas lie here now in my stead?"

Elladan's reply came a beat too late. "It is you with whom I first wanted to break my body's fast."

It was not a denial. Haldir's heart sank.

"Lord Gelmir thinks you should be courting Legolas. The prince can bring you his wealth, his title, and an alliance of the Elven realms." His head sank back to the pillow, his eyes fixed on the roofbeams.

"An alliance of the Elven realms ought to exist in and of itself," Elladan countered. "We are no weak kingdom of bickering children; if a confederacy requires a wedding to seal it, it is a weak confederacy, indeed."

"But Legolas..."

"Would you push me into his arms, Haldir?"

"Nay!"

"Then let it lie. I made my choice and would not unmake it. Do you think I only speak to pacify you? We have so little time together; I would have it be ours, and ours alone."

Contrite, Haldir nodded and allowed himself to be placated by a long, slow kiss, and soon set his misgivings aside.

The night air had grown cool, even with the fire still crackling in the hearth. They slipped beneath the sheet and counterpane and settled their heads close together on a pillow. It was impossible not to touch, to pet, to stroke, and soon enough, young, strong bodies roused from their torpor. Elladan's kisses were sweet and soft along his jaw, down his neck, and his body flared anew, his readiness mirrored by Elladan's. Again he reached for that willful protrusion, feeling the brush of Elladan's dark nest against his hand. He pumped it as he had before, feeling it respond to his touch.

"Gentle!" Elladan yelped, and slowed the rhythm of Haldir's hand. "You will bring me too quickly."

And so Haldir moved fought back his impatience and the aching throb of newly unleashed desire and touched Elladan softly, almost tentatively, cataloging every expression, every utterance of pleasure that crossed his sighing lips. He bent to lay the lightest of kisses on his forehead. Elladan's eyes opened then, and Haldir was awed by the radiance they held, a sparkling incandescence that he had not seen before. Would that such a light might shine for me alone, he thought.

"It is it exquisite," Elladan whispered, reaching up to stroke Haldir's face.

"What?" Haldir asked him, in wonderment still of the adamant flicker.

"You. This. All of it."

And Haldir could not help but smile.

When Elladan reached for him, his touch, too, was gentle and slow, and Haldir's rapture built slowly, kiss by languid kiss. In the moments when their gazes locked, Haldir could feel his heart suspend its beating, his breath halting in his lungs. On the night of the twins' feast, Haldir had discovered to his terror that a single look from Elladan could fell him like an arrow. Now he learned that those eyes could also grant him more sweetness, more beauty, more joy, than he ever dared hope to own. He thought he would have gladly perished then, and spent a thousand years in the shadow of Mandos' halls, just to have known himself for a fleeting moment the unworthy recipient of Elladan's unparalleled regard. His own need seared him, and unable to withstand his soul's complete exposure any longer, he buried his face in Elladan's neck, wove his fingers together with Elladan's, and took both their lengths in hand. Together they fell into rhythm, their pleasures cresting in quick succession, and they tumbled, one after the other, into climax.

Dazed in the aftermath, Haldir's mood became pensive, and Elladan asked him on what road his thoughts had traveled.

Haldir brushed the question aside. "You will think me ignorant."

"Perhaps," he teased, but then stroked Haldir's face with such adoration that Haldir’s tongue could not but help being loosed.

"I...I did not think there would be tenderness. I thought between men there might be only physical desire."

Elladan laid his face in the pillow so that Haldir had no choice but to look straight into his eyes. The intimacy which had only moments before enraptured him now unnerved him.

But Elladan would not let him look away. "My tender feelings long precede my desire. We are not strangers, Haldir. We have been the dearest of friends. To touch you in this way only makes you dearer still. Is it not the same for you? Did you not wish for my solicitude, or did you imagine only forceful handling?"

Haldir blushed, shifting uncomfortably beneath the sheets. "Well... truthfully, I did not know what to imagine."

Without warning, Elladan clambered up to straddle him. "For my part, I have imagined this a hundred different ways." A cheeky grin blossomed like slow fire across his face. "Shall I show you another?"

As the week passed, Haldir 's reticence seemed to have lessened. They roved and hunted by day, and let their bodies give up their secrets by the firelight.

Yet late one night, Elladan awoke from the indolent slumber that followed their gentler tumbles and found Haldir still wide awake, staring into the middle distance above their heads. He pushed himself up on one arm and ran a soothing hand over Haldir's breast.

"What troubles you?"

Haldir blinked slowly. "I was thinking of what will happen when I leave."

Elladan had no ready answer. Indeed, he had questions of his own.

"Will your family continue to press for a betrothal?"

Haldir swung his legs abruptly over the side of the bed. "I cannot marry Mithrellas. She deserves a mate who will treasure her and love her with passion, not a husband who will get a child on her out of duty and feel for her only what a brother feels for his most cherished sister." His head hung heavily between his sloping shoulders.

"Yet they will ask it of you," Elladan gently pressed, his heart lurching.

"My heart cannot respond to her any more ardently than my body could. And yet my father will not let it go." Haldir rubbed his face tiredly. "He suspects...what I am, and already a part of him despises me for it, and that is without even evidence of...of what has now passed between us. He did not want me to come to you. He will only become more insistent when I return."

Anger flared on Haldir's behalf. What father could turn against a son for the love he bore another? Were the Silvans truly so cold, so rigid in their thinking? "You attained full stature nigh twenty years ago. How can he dictate terms as if you were still a child?"

"While I dwell in my father's house, I am bound by his rules, and my actions are adjudged to him. Yet a Silvan does not leave his family home until it is time to make a family of his own."

"Orophin does not live at home."

"No, he lives in the barracks, and has all the rules of the wardens to rein him in. Besides, he leads a life beyond reproach and devotes himself to a soldierly life, so he does not trouble my father as I do. I had thought to follow Orophin's lead, but my father is loath to see me residing with the others, lest I lead some unsuspecting comrade to commit 'unnatural acts.' and bring the whole of the Galadhrim guard to ruin."

He has spilled his own blood in service to realm and kin, yet falls into disfavor for his heart's allegiance. Righteous rage cooled by Haldir's bereft expression, Elladan kicked off the covers and moved to sit beside him, putting his arm carefully around Haldir's waist. Haldir leaned in to his presence; his skin was cool. "Can you stall your father's plan?"

Haldir was silent for a long moment, but the frown of his brow and the purse of his lips suggested that the threads of an idea were being woven into place.

"Perhaps… yes… perhaps." He swiveled his head toward Elladan, and Elladan saw that his expression held the bold determination that had marked it of old. "My father would force tradition upon me, so perhaps I might stave off his will by holding up tradition as my shield."

"How so?" Elladan asked.

"Long ago, it was all but law that the eldest child should be the first to marry, and the younger sons and daughters would follow in their turn. This is not so now, for we are not so few as we once were. Now we marry when we choose, and many have I known who were youngest in their clan yet first to wed. But if my father has his heart so set on tradition, and fears so greatly that I will sully it, then I shall demand he follow it himself: I will tell him I cannot consider a betrothal of my own until Orophin is happily wed. I know my brother well, Elladan. His first love is the forest and his second love the bow. He is not eager to marry. Then, perhaps, Mithrellas will despair of waiting and find another suitor. That would allow her to save face as well, for I would not have her sullied, not for the world."

By the time he had finished speaking, he was grinning from ear to ear, and Elladan's heart swelled for it. He pulled Haldir backwards and wrestled him down into the sheets, relishing the feel of their bodies pressed together, in sport even as in tenderness. This time, when he descended down the virile slopes of the Galadhel's frame to take hardened flesh into his mouth down to the root, Haldir did not bid him stop, and the lyric of his ecstasy, some strange and strangled phrase sung in the Silvan tongue, resounded in Elladan's ears long after.

And so, not long after, the day came to pass that Amroth gathered his men and made ready to return to Lorien. For Elladan, the sad parting was made more bitter still by Haldir's aloof demeanor. As warm as he had been in the cloistered enclave of Gildor's cabin, he seemed in perpetual-- and to Elladan's thinking, pointless-- fear of discovery once they returned to Imladris. If he thought even a single pair of eyes might light upon them, he kept his distance as if he were but an old companion, and gave no hint that his fondness welled from a deeper spring.

"Give him time," Gildor bade him. "This is new to him, and frightening."

Glorfindel was in accord. "He has much to lose, Elladan, and you do him disservice by imagining otherwise."

And yet still it stung. He was not accustomed to wear two faces, one of true lover and one of indifferent friend. And it was easy enough for Gildor to counsel patience: even as he spoke, Elrohir's arm hung about his shoulders for all to see.

He forced a broad smile when they had said their last farewells, but within, his heart was grieving. "He takes his leave but with a clasp of my arm, and I know not when I will even see him again. It may be that years shall pass, and I will not even know how he thinks of me, or even if he thinks of me."

Elrohir leaned up against him as he always did when he meant to tease. "You fret like a weepy maid. Perhaps we should turn all your tunics into gowns and give you a sofa to swoon on." Elladan shot him a warning glare, but Elrohir blithely ignored it. "You will see him sooner than you think."

"Oh?" Elladan's brow cocked coldly. "And where come you by such certainty?"

Elrohir shrugged. "Gildor, of course. Whilst you were sulking over Haldir's imminent departure, Gildor was engaged in more fruitful pursuits."

"What, spying? Eavesdropping? Lurking in dark corners?"

"Yes," Elrohir confirmed with satisfaction. "And as such, he has learned that Amroth's messenger wishes to abdicate his position and remove to Lindon with his wife and her kin."

"What has this to do with Haldir?" demanded Elladan sullenly.

"Amroth will need a new messenger, yes? Gildor mentioned this development to our good Adar, who in turn suggested to Amroth that a certain young Galadhel had acquitted himself with the utmost of dignity and circumspection on his first trip abroad. Moreover, he asked of Amroth, would it not be a just reward to offer said Galadhel the opportunity to further prove his worth in a trusted position?"

Elladan spun around to face his brother, and could have knelt and kissed his feet despite his insufferably smug expression, but Elrohir lunged first and captured Elladan's neck in the crook of his elbow, drilling a knuckle against his scalp as if they were still younglings to grapple like pups. "Woe betides any who would stand between a Peredhel and what he most desires!"

Elladan, his good humor returned in spades, kissed his twin hard on the cheek before kicking his feet out from under him and wrestling him to the ground, Elrohir's snort of umbrage and the goading laughter of Gildor and Glorfindel rising up behind him.

*****

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