Part 8

Posted: January 2004
Author: Khylaren

*****

Chapter 8

A short bath and a hot meal later, Erin was feeling much more human. After dressing in clean clothing obtained from her wayward pack, she finished toweling dry her hair. She glanced in the mirror, grimacing at her reflection.

Legolas was right. Her hair did look awful. She picked at a few strands critically, wondering if there was any way she could salvage it. Perhaps if she could get someone to trim the uneven ends, it would look halfway decent. She dropped her hand away, tossing the towel on the bed, and sighed.

Rúmil and Orophin were waiting in the other room for her to emerge, and she realized she was dragging her feet, putting off the inevitable. She heaved another, bigger sigh, and turned to her door, steeling herself to face the music.

The two elves looked up from their card game when she entered the room, and she smiled. They looked less than their usual perfect selves, sitting on the floor like children, with a deck of strangely marked cards between them.

Orophin looked her over critically and nodded. "You look better, Erin," he said.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "As opposed to?"

Rúmil grinned. "The way you looked before."

Erin shook her head, and took a seat on the floor beside Rúmil. "Gee, thanks, I think." She looked at the cards curiously. "What are you playing?"

Orophin set his cards aside and folded his arms, though it was difficult for him to appear as stern as he probably wanted to since he was sitting on the floor cross-legged. "You are not going to distract us that way."

"I wasn't trying to distract you," she protested.

He merely raised his eyebrows at her, obviously not believing her.

"Fine. Yell. I'm all ears." She rested her chin on her hands and looked at him expectantly.

Orophin opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. "Would it do any good?" he asked. "You gave me your word you would listen, but would you truly hear what it is I would say?"

Erin sighed, dropping her gaze away and staring at her boots. "I know you both think what I did was wrong. It was dangerous, I know. It was foolish. On the other hand, I was supposed to be there."

"Do you know how much danger you put both myself and Rúmil in?" Orophin asked sharply. "We had to concentrate on protecting you as well as ourselves. Your actions were foolish – and selfish. You did not think before you made this decision to come. If we had not been there to protect you, you would have been killed."

Erin lifted her head and frowned at him. "I thought I did pretty well, considering," she replied tartly. "I don't hear you yelling at Éowyn for coming."

Orophin folded his arms and looked down at her, and she couldn't help but flinch at the anger in his eyes. "And where is Éowyn?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. He lifted his head and pointed at the door. "In the houses of healing, alive thanks only to the grace of the Valar and Lord Aragorn's healing. Unlike you, she has the training to fight. She truly knew what she was facing when she decided to go. You, pen-neth, do not." He shook his head slowly. "And you are fortunate the Lady knew of your foolish choice before hand. Why my Lord did not allow our brother to leave you tied in a tree is a mystery, but he did not."

"What do you want me to say, Orophin?" Erin finally looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry I made you worry. I didn't mean to. You weren't even supposed to know I was there."

Orophin rose to his feet swiftly and turned his back to her. Erin glanced at Rúmil and saw him shake his head at her.

"That does not make it any better," Rúmil said quietly.

Erin sighed. "What do you want me to say?" she repeated softly.

"We want your word, Erin," Orophin said finally, looking over his shoulder at her.

"My word on what?"

"That you will never do anything like this again." Orophin said.

"I don't plan on ever doing anything like that again."

Orophin shook his head. "That is not good enough. I want your promise that you will think before you act, and consider what your actions may do to others. If you give us your word, I will not thrash you like you so richly deserve for putting yourself in such a foolish and dangerous position."

"You wouldn't beat me," Erin gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

Orophin grinned wolfishly at her. "Do not tempt me, hêneb ûn. I think I would enjoy it far too much."

She stared at him a moment, and shook her head. "You would too, I bet." She threw her hands up in the air and sighed. "Fine. I promise. I won't put myself in the middle of danger unless I can't avoid it. I'll stay where I'm nice and safe. Happy?"

He glanced thoughtfully at Rúmil. "Almost. I will be happy when you let Rúmil trim your hair. It looks terrible."

Erin scowled. "Fine," she groused. "He can't make it look any worse than it already is."

~ * ~

Melaphríl heard the quiet tap at the tent flap and stirred, quietly disengaging himself from the blankets he shared with Elrohir. A quick but thorough look at his partner assured him that he was still in a deep, healing sleep. His color was much improved, as were the wounds he had sustained. They were already beginning to heal.

He rose gracefully to his feet and opened the flap, blinking as his eyes quickly adjusted to the light.

"How is he?" Elladan asked, stepping inside, his face a mask of concern.

"Much improved, mellonen. I think he will wake sometime this afternoon or evening."

Elladan gave him a relieved smile. "That is good news indeed." He dropped to his knees beside his brother's body, reaching out to stroke the dark hair away from Elrohir's face.

"How fares Éowyn?" Melaphríl asked softly.

"She is recovering, but slowly. Aragorn says she should not rise from her bed for at least ten days." Elladan replied, smiling briefly. "It is probably well that I will not be here to suffer through it. I do not think my lady will be happy to learn she is bedridden for so long." His _expression sobered quickly. "Aragorn has called a council this morning. I thought you would want to be present."

"Aye," Melaphríl answered. "Lead on, mellonen. Your brother will not stir for many hours yet."

Elladan bent down, placing a gentle kiss on his twin's forehead, before rising to his feet.

The two elves made their way to where their foster brother had set up his council, taking their places beside Legolas and Gimli. Elladan saw his grandfather and gave him a brief smile. Beside the Lord of Lothlórien was Prince Imrahil, and next to him Éomer, now-King of Rohan. Mithrandir stood on the other side of Aragorn, leaning on his white staff.

"We have driven the forces of Mordor from the gates of Minas Tirith and Osgiliath," Prince Imrahil said. "The enemy has pulled back into Mordor to lick its wounds."

Aragorn nodded grimly. "And to gather its strength anew. Do not think this victory wins the war. The forces of Sauron are well beyond ours, my friends."

"Word has reached me that Lórien has been attacked once more," Lord Celeborn said quietly. "The Galadhrim have driven them back, but the Mellyrn burn in their wake. I do not need my Lady's vision to tell me they will attack again."

"What of Frodo? Gandalf, what have you seen?" Aragorn turned to the white wizard.

Gandalf closed his eyes and bent his head for a moment, before opening them wearily. "Frodo has passed beyond my sight. He has entered Mordor itself. But unless something is done to draw the eye of Sauron away from his own land, he will never reach the Mountain of Doom to complete his quest."

"Then nothing can stop the black tide from overwhelming us all," Éomer said bitterly. "We are too few, even with the aide of the elves, to stop it."

"What would you have us do?" Imrahil said. "Retreat to Minas Tirith, or Dol Amroth, or to Dunharrow, and there sit like children on sandcastles when the tide is flowing?"

Éomer frowned. "What else can be done?"

Aragorn stepped forward, gripping Éomer's shoulder. "We are few," he agreed. "And there are not enough of us left to stop what will come if Frodo should fail. Therefore we should do all that is in our power to make certain that Frodo has a chance."

Éomer looked up at Aragorn for a moment, and nodded, his jaw set tightly.

"Sauron is filled with doubt since he learned that Isildur's heir walked among men," Gandalf said, his eyes gleaming in the morning light. "Since Aragorn wrest the Palantir from his grasp, his doubt has grown. He watches as the winds of fortune turn in our favor, and the defeat unlooked for of his first assault; the fall of his great captain will do nothing to ease his worry. We must use this against him. Turn his eye towards us and hold it there, at all costs. We must give the Ring-bearer his only chance, frail though it may be."

Aragorn stepped back from Éomer and lifted his voice. "We ride to the black gates of Mordor with all the strength we can muster. We must call out all of Sauron's hidden strength, so that he shall empty his land. We must make ourselves the bait, though his jaws should close on us. He will take the bait, in hope and in greed, for he will think that in such rashness he sees the pride of men in their King. We must walk open-eyed into that trap, with courage, but with small hope for ourselves. For my lords, it may well prove that we ourselves shall perish utterly in the black battle far from the living lands." He took a deep breath, holding each of their eyes in turn, and no one looked away from the strength they saw in him. "This, I deem, is our duty. Better so than to perish nonetheless, as we surely shall if we sit here, and know as we die that no new age shall be."

Elladan saw them all glance from one to another, heeding the unspoken call of their King. Though he was elf-kind, and not a man, he felt it as well.

"We have come now to the very brink, where hope and despair are kin," Celeborn said quietly. "Though I will heed the councils of both Lord Aragorn and Gandalf, I say to each of you to listen to your own council as well. None here are under oath or burden to follow, yet consider carefully what this man has said, and know the truth of what he speaks." He turned and gave a bow to Aragorn, his hand resting against his heart. "Lórien will give what aide it can."

Elladan stepped forward to face his foster brother, bowing as Lord Celeborn had done. "From the North our father sent Elrohir and I to lend what aide we could. Though he must remain behind, I would not leave you, muindor, in your hour of need," Elladan said.

Aragorn returned his bow with a faint nod, his eyes bright. "Glad I am to have you ride with me," he replied softly.

Éomer stepped forward, his handsome face pensive. "I have little knowledge of these deep matters you spoke of. I know naught of the Ring-bearer or his journey, but I need not. This I know, and it is enough." He dropped to one knee in front of Aragorn and offered him the hilt of his sword. "Aragorn is my friend. He succored me and my people, so I will aid him when he calls. I will go."

Battle scarred hands gently touched Éomer's hair as Aragorn smiled down at him. "Arise, my friend and King of Rohan. Take no knee before me. I am but a man, and your friend. I am proud to have you fight beside me."

Éomer rose to his feet and met Aragorn's bright gaze. A shout of laughter escaped him and he clapped Aragorn briefly on the shoulder, before returning to his place beside Imrahil.

The Prince of Dol Amroth smiled and stepped forward. "Whether you claim it or no, I hold you as my liege-lord," he said firmly. "Your wish is to me a command. I will go also, with what men of Gondor we can spare, for I do not wish to leave the city undefended. There is yet an army unfought upon our northern flank."

Aragorn nodded. "The force we lead east need not be great enough for any assault in earnest upon Mordor, so long as it be great enough to challenge battle."

"And it must move soon," Gandalf added, dropping his hand lightly upon Aragorn's shoulder. "We have little time now." He turned his eyes towards the fiery mountain in the distance. "Too little time indeed."

~ * ~

Elladan left his brother's tent and rode swiftly towards the city. The fires had long since been put out, but the smell of burning still hung heavy in the air as he rode across the fields. Men and women searched among the fallen, some crying out in joy and relief when a loved one was found, others giving voice to grief for the same reason. Few paid heed to a single elf riding with speed towards the gates of Minas Tirith.

He reached the houses of healing and took the long steps two at a time, sidestepping those who were coming and going into the building. The sounds of pain and misery assaulted his sensitive ears the moment he stepped inside, as did the smell of blood and unwashed bodies. It was difficult not to notice the stares directed his way as he passed through the hallways and rooms where the wounded and dying lay. He knew how he must appear to some of them: a great, shining being passing without a sound through the rooms. He was only half-elven, but the blood of Galadriel flowed through his veins. It was not difficult to sense the thoughts of those lying there as he passed them. Many thought he was the angel of death, come to take them to the halls of their ancestors. Only those recovering from their wounds saw him as he truly was: a weary elf, still wearing the blood of his enemy.

Elladan paused in front of the room where Éowyn was kept, glancing down at himself with a frown. He wished he had the foresight to bathe before seeing her, but his eagerness to see her face, to watch her blue eyes light up with love, had made him forget all else.

He pushed the curtain aside and entered the room quietly.

"Elladan!" Her soft exclamation was filled with joy. He took the hands she offered him and held them tightly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "I thought you were but a dream I had last night."

"I am real enough," he replied, bringing her hands up to his lips and kissing them. "I came to see how you were faring." He did not release her hands.

Éowyn smiled up at him, pulling one hand free to stroke his cheek gently. "I am feeling better," she said quietly. "Much better now that I know you were not the imaginings of a fevered mind."

He bent forward and brushed her lips softly with his own. "I am joyous to hear it, melethen," he said. "Though Aragorn says you must stay abed yet another nine days."

"Nine days!" She pulled her hands away from him and frowned. "I will go mad with restlessness if I am forced to stay in bed for so long."

Elladan stroked her hair, loving the soft feel of it between his fingers. "Yet stay abed you shall," he told her with a smile. "For you must heal, Lady. I would not have you fainting at my feet when I return."

She looked at him sharply. "You are leaving again?"

"Aye," he said, nodding. "Tomorrow morning we ride to the Black Gates of Mordor to challenge Sauron." He brushed her hair away from her face tenderly. "To give the Ring-bearer time to do what he must."

Éowyn blinked at him, and looked away. Gentle fingers touched her chin and brought her gaze back to his.

"I do not wish to leave you, melethen," he said softly. "I would stay here by your side until you were well, and carry you back with me to Imladris to the home of my father. He would take one look at you and know why it is I have lost my heart to you, my brave shield maiden. He would see your strength, your honor, and your beauty, and he would love you for them."

She brushed away the tear that had fallen on her cheek. "But you will not," she said huskily, her voice shaking.

Elladan shook his head slowly. "I cannot. No matter how much I would wish otherwise, the war is not yet ended. Unless Frodo succeeds in his quest, there will be no tomorrows for us, melethen. There will be nothing left but ashes."

Éowyn reached up to cradle his face with her hands, bringing his lips to hers. She kissed him gently, brushing her fingertips over his cheeks. His hands covered hers and he turned his head, kissing their palms.

"You will return," Éowyn said shakily. "Swear it."

He placed one of her hands over his heart and held it there. "On my honor, my lady. I swear only death will keep me from it."

She gave him a tremulous smile. "Then you had better stay alive, my love," she whispered. "You still owe me a beating for disobeying you."

Elladan blinked at her in surprise, then chuckled weakly. "Aye," he whispered. "That I do. And I promise you will not sit a saddle comfortably for a week."

Éowyn drew him close and laid her head against his chest. "So long as you return, I do not care if I sit a saddle comfortably for a month."

He placed a kiss on the top of her golden hair. "I will tell you a secret, melethen," he whispered. "But you must not tell a soul." His arms cradled her gently as he laid his cheek against her hair.

"What is it?" Éowyn felt him tremble.

"I am afraid."

She lifted her head from his chest, cupping his face between her hands once more. She met his eyes searchingly, and offered him a faint smile. "I was afraid when I rode with my Uncle against our enemy. I was afraid when I challenged the dark rider. I was afraid when the dreams took me and told me that my brother was dead, and that you were dead. One thing kept me from giving into my fear, my love. One small and simple thing."

Elladan smiled faintly. "What was that small and simple thing?" he asked.

Éowyn smiled back at him. "Hope," she whispered. "Though it seemed that all was lost, I clung to it with all my strength." She took a deep and trembling breath, holding his eyes with her own. "It was what brought me back to you. I heard your voice and my brother's voice, calling me from the void in which I had fallen. Even then, my hope was not buried beneath the black dreams. I heard your voice and followed it, and hope gave me the strength to leave behind the emptiness that had filled my heart." She shook her head at him. "If I can return from such a place, my love, then you will return from Mordor." Éowyn smiled again, her eyes blurring with unshed tears. "I have hope enough for both of us."

He drew her close and kissed her again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Melon lle, Éowyn," he whispered against her lips. "Estel gerin."

She laughed weakly, leaning her forehead against his. "You will have to teach me your language, my love. I do not know what it is you say to me."

Elladan held her, wishing with every fiber of his being he did not have to let her go. "I promise to teach you, melethen."

"When you return?" she asked softly.

He nodded, closing his eyes. "When I return."

~ * ~

Something was tickling her nose, dragging her unwilling from her sleep, and she batted at it without opening her eyes. A soft, masculine chuckle greeted her efforts, waking her fully.

"Out of bed, lazy one," Rúmil said, tickling her nose once more with the end of a feather. "Morning dawned hours ago. Orophin has already left to report to our Lord and has left me here to watch over you and keep you out of trouble." He folded his arms across his chest and looked down his nose at her. "A daunting task indeed."

"Hah," she grumbled, feeling as if her head were trying to fall off. She struggled to sit up and groaned, clutching at her throbbing skull. "Why does my head hurt?"

Rúmil snorted, moving away from the bed. "I would say too much good Gondorian vintage, meldis, but I could be wrong."

"Wine?" she asked, opening her eyes enough to cast a glare at his smirking face.

He nodded. "Several cupfuls, if I remember rightly. You did not get any better at cards, but you were certainly entertaining."

"Oh, God," she muttered, closing her eyes once more. "Please tell me I didn't do anything stupid."

Rúmil's grin widened. "That depends entirely upon what you mean by ‘stupid'," he said, laughing at her _expression. "Get dressed. Orophin brought breakfast before he left and it is getting cold." He left her sputtering, and she could hear his laughter through the door.

Erin got dressed, trying to ignore the way her brain seemed to throb with each movement. Just when I could really, really use some Tylenol, she thought morosely. No more wine for me. Ever. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and it made her pause, her mouth opening in surprise.

She no longer resembled a fretful porcupine with quills sticking up at all angles. Rúmil had trimmed the uneven lengths, shortening it further in the back and over her ears. While it was still far from beautiful, it was a far sight better than it had been. With a little help from some mousse and hair spray, it would look rather cool, she thought, briefly mourning the loss of hair care products. She ruffled her fingers though the top of it and was pleased by the way it fell.

Erin opened the door that separated the sleeping room from the rest of her room, and the smell of bacon hit her with a vengeance. Her stomach growled audibly.

Rúmil glanced up, an apple halfway to his mouth and gave her an approving glance, before taking a bite.

"If you ever get tired of being a guardian on the borders of Lothlórien, you could always open a hair salon," Erin said, managing a grin.

His eyebrows rose, and he appeared to actually consider the possibility. "Would I get to shoot Orcs?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with humor.

"No," Erin replied, taking a seat across from him. "Not unless they came in for a trim. And killing customers would be bad for business."

Rúmil shook his head, taking another bite of apple. "Then I do not think I would enjoy it."

Erin poured a cup of tea from the small pot and brought the cup to her lips, inhaling the steam. It smelled faintly of mint, and when she took a cautious sip, she found her head had cleared a little. She looked over the rim of the cup at Rúmil. "Hannon chen," she said quietly, touching her hair. "This is much better."

He nodded, and reached for a piece of bread, covering it with preserves. "You are welcome, meldis."

She took another sip of the tea, and the fog that covered her brain lifted further. "So," she said cautiously. "Did I do anything really foolish last night?" Like engage in carnal acts of pleasure with both of you? Not that it wouldn't have been wonderful, but the last thing she needed was to confuse lust with love.

Rúmil shook his head, and she saw no trace of his usual teasing. "No, you did not. You were quite talkative, however, once you started drinking."

"I didn't say anything I'll regret, I hope?" she asked, taking a deep swallow of her tea.

He shrugged. "Nothing we will repeat to anyone else, Erin. Your secrets are safe with us." He winked solemnly.

She sighed with relief and snagged a piece of bacon. Thankfully the crunching noise did not make her head pound any more. "How long do you have to baby sit me?" she asked, reaching for the bread.

He lifted his eyebrow. "Weary of my company already?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No, Rúmil. I was just hoping I'd get to visit Éowyn today. I didn't get to talk to her much last night."

Rúmil grinned. "I will keep you company until I am satisfied that you will stay out of trouble. Fair enough?"

Erin nodded, finishing her breakfast with another drink of the tea. "Fair, I suppose. Though what kind of trouble you think I'll get into is beyond me."

He folded his arms and gave her a stern look. "We thought you safe enough in Edoras, Erin. Apparently we were wrong."

She had the grace to look embarrassed. "I know."

Rúmil relented, his _expression softening. "We were worried for you," he said quietly. "You put yourself in danger willingly, and we could not help but fear for you."

"I know," she said again. "All I can say is that I'm sorry I made you worry, that I put you and Orophin at risk to keep me safe. I'm also very, very glad you were both there."

He smiled. "We told you when we said goodbye in Lórien that we would be your friends," he said simply. "That is what friends do."

~ * ~

They met Elladan at the bottom of the steps of the houses of healing. Erin took one look at his face and realized something was wrong.

"It's not Elrohir, is it?" she asked, tugging lightly on his tunic. "Please tell me it's not."

Elladan gave her a faint smile. "No, meldis. My brother does well under Melaphríl's care. He should awaken soon." He held up his hand when he saw her next question forming. "Éowyn is recovering also, though she is unhappy to learn that I am leaving again."

Erin crossed her arms and looked up at the elf. "What do you mean?" She felt Rúmil's hand grip her shoulder and she gave it a brief pat. "Where are you going?"

"The war against Sauron has not yet ended, Erin," Elladan said. "The ring still exists, and therefore Sauron is still a threat to all of Middle Earth. We go now to draw his eye away from Frodo, to give the Ring-bearer the chance he needs to succeed in his quest to destroy it."

Her stomach knotted at his words. "You guys are going to Mordor?" she asked faintly.

Elladan nodded.

"You are not going," Rúmil murmured in her ear. "Do not even think about it."

Erin batted him away with a frown. "I wasn't planning on it." He raised an eyebrow at her and she crossed her arms again. "I swear. I'm staying in the city."

Elladan's lips twitched briefly into a smile. "It is good that you are staying," he said seriously, though his eyes glinted with hidden amusement. "Elrohir will be glad to know that someone will be here to look after him while we are gone."

"Oh no," Erin said, turning back to look at Elladan. "He can't go with you?"

"No," Elladan replied, shaking his head. "He will not be recovered fully enough to make the journey. He must remain behind and heal."

An unpleasant suspicion reared its ugly head. "This is bad, isn't it? You don't think you'll be coming back, do you?" she accused.

Elladan shook his head again. "There are no certainties in this life, Erin. We go to face the forces of Sauron in his own lands. It is likely that we will not return."

Erin stared at him a moment, and then took a deep breath. "But you have to go, don't you," she said quietly. She turned her gaze to Rúmil and saw him nod. She threw her hands up in the air, scowling. "Well, that just bites," she muttered. "I know you have to go. I know. I know. But, damn…" She rubbed her eyes fiercely, not wanting to give into the tears that threatened. "I was just hoping that things were over."

"If we can draw Sauron's attention away from his own lands long enough for Frodo to succeed, it will be over," Elladan said. "If he fails?" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then it will matter little in the end whether we die upon the fields of Mordor or here in Minas Tirith. The fate of all the races of Middle Earth will be the same."

She didn't have to ask him what that fate would be.

"You will look after Elrohir?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "I'd be happy to, though I doubt he'll need much looking after."

Elladan gave her a brief smile. "He will be glad enough to have familiar company, I think."

Erin turned to look at Rúmil. "You're going too?"

"Aye," he replied. "Though I have not heard for certain, I would wager Lord Celeborn would join with Aragorn to face Mordor."

"He has," Elladan said. "As have King Éomer and Prince Imrahil."

She scuffed hard packed dirt with the toe of her boot unhappily. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye until I see you again." She looked up at them both. "It feels totally inadequate to say ‘be careful' considering what you're facing. But I'll say it anyway. Please, be careful. Come back in once piece."

Elladan chuckled and gave her a cocky grin. "As always, lady," he said, bowing slightly. He turned gracefully on his heel and crossed the road, making his way to where his horse was tethered.

Erin turned to Rúmil and gasped when he drew her into his arms, hugging her tight. "I will be careful," he promised. "I will watch out for Orophin and Haldir, and they will do the same." She felt him drop a kiss against her hair and smiled weakly against his chest, feeling wonderfully and protectively smothered. Her breath hitched briefly as she watched him walk away, but she managed to hold her tears back until he had disappeared from view.

Then she sank ungracefully to the steps, hugging her knees, and let her tears finally come.

~ * ~

Melaphríl closed the tent flap behind him and made his way to where Elrohir rested, dropping to his knees beside him. He placed a hand on his chest and closed his eyes, stilling his thoughts. He could feel the steady beat of Elrohir's heart beneath his hand, as well as the soft, rushing of blood as it coursed through his veins. The steady rise and fall of his patient's breathing faltered for a moment, and Melaphríl opened his eyes to meet Elrohir's gaze.

"Hello, melethen," he whispered, smiling. "It is good at last to see you awake."

Elrohir smiled weakly. "It is good to be awake, beside you, and not in the Halls of Mandos." He made as if to sit up, but Melaphríl's hands gently held him down.

"Do not move just yet," he admonished softly. "You are not healed enough to go walking about." His hands were trembling as he stroked Elrohir's hair back from his forehead.

"Melethen." Elrohir caught one of his hands and held it loosely.

"What is it? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Melaphríl asked anxiously.

Elrohir smiled, squeezing the hand he held. "I need nothing except to hold you for a moment. Unless my healer says that I am not well enough for that."

A soft chuckle escaped him and he lay down beside Elrohir. "I think you are well enough," he replied, laying his head on his lover's chest. He felt his arms enclose him, and heard Elrohir's soft sigh.

"I take it that we won the battle?"

"Aye," Melaphríl answered. "But not the war." The sound of Elrohir's heartbeat was comforting against his ear. "We leave tomorrow for Mordor."

Elrohir's arms tightened briefly around his waist. "Will I be well enough for travel by then?" he asked quietly.

"No, melethen," he replied, burying his face against Elrohir's chest. "You must stay in Minas Tirith."

One hand left Melaphríl's waist to stroke his hair. "I understand," Elrohir said faintly.

He lifted his head to meet Elrohir's gaze. "Melon lle. Uireb"

"Hush," Elrohir whispered, gently pushing him down to lie against his chest once more. "Speak no more. I will hear no words of farewell from you."

Melaphríl closed his eyes and surrendered to his lover's wish. There would be no farewells spoken between them.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Khylaren