Resurrection 46

Resurrection

Part 46

Posted: March 2, 2007
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Lindir gets a surprise and Thranduil makes an announcement.

*****

Lindir’s hands began to tremble as he placed the ribbon aside and held the small, beautifully carved, wooden box. It was light, and of a particular size that made his mind race with the possibilities. He looked up at his lover, who had turned in his chair to look at him, and then he looked down at the box. The look in Thranduil’s eye was one of mixed apprehension and anticipation, and that could only mean one thing.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and slowly opened the small box, then opened his eyes again and gazed upon the contents. He could not breathe. He could not speak. With shaking hands, he plucked a small, mithril band from the box and held it up to the light. It was elegantly carved; he saw a small moon and some stars, the symbols of the Sindar, and there were a clef and harp, and a sun, the symbols of the Noldorion houses from which he came. There was another ring in the box, carved just like the one he held, only it was larger in diameter.

He felt his lover’s hands on his knees and he looked down. Thranduil had moved from his seat at the dressing table to kneel on the floor before him. His lover, his regal king, so proud, so strong, looked up at him in supplication.

“I have lived my life playing parts: the dutiful son, the good prince, the faithful husband, the doting father, and now king. In all of my years, the only role that felt real was that of father to Legolas, until you came into my life. You have taught me how to lead with wisdom and temperance, Lindir. You have made me a better king and a better father. But most of all, you have made me whole. I would not be who I am now if it were not for you; without you, I am but a shell of myself.” Thranduil looked deep into his lover’s eyes. “I would have you as my mate, if you would have me as your own.”

For all of his adult life, nearly an age, Lindir had waited to hear those words. For years uncounted, he waited for Glorfindel to utter them, and then as time dragged on, he lived without hope of ever hearing them. Now, in an unexpected place, with the elf who had utterly stolen and healed his broken heart, he was hearing those words. He reached out and touched the king’s face, feeling tears track down his own cheeks. “You are my dream come true,” he said softly. “Aye, I will have you, and you shall have me.”

Thranduil smiled and rose to his feet, taking Lindir’s face in his hands. “By the Valar, I do love you so, Lindir,” he murmured, then he pressed a deep kiss to his beloved’s lips. Releasing his lover’s mouth, Thranduil plucked the ring from Lindir’s hand and slid it on his minstrel’s finger. He then allowed Lindir to do the same, smiling as the band slid home. “I will take great joy in making this announcement tonight,” he murmured as he slid his hand around the back of Lindir’s neck.

Lindir smiled at him. “I cannot wait to see Legolas’ expression. Your son is such a romantic – I can see where he gets it from.”

Thranduil chuckled. “You are one of very few who would ever say that about me, my love.”

Placing his hands on Thranduil’s hips, Lindir answered, “Then I am one of a privileged few who knows you well.” He then reached for his beloved with his mouth.

* * * *

Gildor and Legolas stood near the large buffet where decanters of wine were set. Thranduil’s council members attended, as did some of the noble lords of Greenwood. The king’s most senior warriors, generals who had served Oropher and now served Thranduil and Legolas, attended as well, many of them already knew Gildor well from his time with them not so long ago. Despite the perception outside of Greenwood, the people of Thranduil were not opposed to outsiders, they were merely cautious. The mistrust of Noldor had faded when Oropher died; Thranduil had not yet been born during those last, fateful days of Doriath when Fëanor’s sons wrecked so much destruction. Even so, Oropher had trusted the most noble among the Noldor, Glorfindel had been one of his closest friends, so the animosity that supposedly existed was more a thing of rumor than fact.

Soft music played in the background as the warriors, nobles, and council members circulated and socialized. Gildor received a full report of Legolas’ training and his burgeoning prowess as a warrior from Thranduil’s captain, who seemed to be as proud of the prince as Thranduil was. As Thranduil and Lindir entered arm in arm, the kitchen staff began laying a feast fit for the occasion. Soon the hall was filled with the aroma of roasted fowl and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and a delicious soup made from roasted peppers and tomatoes.

They sat down to a kingly feast. The table was dressed with fine linens and plates made of shining silver and gold. Crystal goblets filled with ruby-hued wine glimmered in the warm candlelight, and a fire crackled in the large hearth at the opposite end of the hall. Plates were passed and food dished out in a casual manner. Thranduil carved the bird as Lindir laid the slices on the plates that came his way.

Gildor thought it was odd, yet comfortable. They were in a formal setting, but the food was laid out on the table casually, almost like a large family dinner, and the king himself was carving the bird and serving it. In a way, it reminded him of the meals at Elrond’s table, but even then, those were served in a more formal manner.

As the evening progressed and the attendees began sitting back from the table, their stomachs pleasantly full as they sipped fine brandy made there in Greenwood, Thranduil requested everyone’s attention.

“I would like to make an announcement,” he said, standing as his guests’ eyes turned toward him. “This is a joyous occasion. Our good friend Gildor has returned and agreed to stay,” he raised his glass as all applauded, “and my dear Lindir has agreed to be my mate.”

Gildor smiled as he met Lindir’s gaze. He had spied the rings of promise on their fingers earlier, but opted not to say anything. Legolas rose from his chair and immediately embraced Lindir, placing a kiss upon the minstrel’s cheek.

“Welcome to our family,” Legolas said softly.

Lindir gave the prince a squeeze. “Thank you.”

Legolas then proceeded to his father, whom he hugged tightly. “I am so glad to hear this news,” he said softly. “I am most pleased that the two of you have chosen to solidify your bond.”

The guests raised their voices in a cheer and their glasses in a toast. After congratulations were given, the crowd moved to the celebration hall, where the musicians played and happy couples danced. Thranduil held Lindir in his arms as he watched Gildor and Legolas circle the dance floor, gracefully moving together as they gazed into each other’s eyes. It was the first public display of their affection in front of the prince’s subjects, and Thranduil was not surprised to see looks of approval on many of the faces of the guests. There were a few elleth and ellon that had difficulty hiding their disappointment, but overall, their people were happy about the budding romance between their prince and the noble elf lord.

“Gildor is a good and faithful lover,” Lindir murmured to his king, noting the way Thranduil looked at the pair. “He never failed to treat Erestor with respect, and was loyal to him even when he knew that Erestor’s heart belonged to Glorfindel.”

Thranduil nodded, a slight smile curving his lips. “Aye, I know you speak true. I am glad that Legolas has chosen him, for as you say, Gildor will be good to him. Yet, I cannot help but think my son is so young to have given so much of himself away.”

“Why say you?”

“Look at him, at the way he moves, the look in his eye – he is no longer an innocent.”

“Are you troubled by the match?”

“No. Not by the match. Perhaps I am just sorrowful to see him grow to adulthood.” Thranduil turned his gaze to Lindir. “I miss his childhood, the way he would giggle when I played with him, the look of devotion in his eye when he looked at me . . . I miss that innocent, unconditional love.”

“It is still there, my love,” Lindir murmured. “Legolas would do anything for you, you know that.”

“I know, but the day has come when I am no longer the center of his world. Gildor has taken my place.” He sighed. “I know it is foolish and selfish of me, but for so long, Legolas was my one purpose.”

Lindir smiled and caressed Thranduil’s cheek. “And that devotion is evident, my love. He is a fine prince, strong, brave, and noble. You raised him as such; you should be proud.”

Thranduil drew Lindir closer. “I am, and now I have another to dote upon, to love like I have no other purpose.”

Lindir gave a soft purr of appreciation as Thranduil drew him closer. “Mmm, and I will savor it to the utmost of my ability.”

“I love you, Lindir.”

“I love you, Thranduil.”

“Come, dance with me.” Thranduil took his betrothed by the hand and led him onto the dance floor, where they spent the night in celebration of their impending marriage.

* * * *

Lindir smiled and sighed as Thranduil’s body came to rest atop his. He wrapped his long legs around his lover’s hips and buried his hands in the heavy fall of hair that covered their faces like a veil. “Gods, I love the way you feel,” Lindir murmured as Thranduil’s lips caressed his jaw. “I love touching you, feeling your skin against my own, hearing your deep voice in my ear.”

“I want to give you something,” Thranduil murmured.

“You have already given me more than I dared ask for.”

He propped himself upon his elbows and gazed into the minstrel’s eyes. “I want us to bond spiritually.” He noted the flash of apprehension in Lindir’s eyes. “I need this, Lindir. I need to know how you felt about him. We cannot truly belong to one another without this.”

Lindir caressed Thranduil’s face. “How I felt about him has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

“But it does; you know it does. You cannot separate that from the rest of yourself. You and I need to know everything, see everything.”

Lindir was worried, but he acquiesced, for he knew his lover was right. Nodding, he murmured, “Very well.” He took Thranduil’s face in his hands. “I love you, Thranduil, do not forget that.”

Thranduil smiled. “I will not.”

He closed his eyes and held Lindir’s face in his hands, focusing on his beloved and reaching out to him with his thoughts. Lindir was taken aback, never had he experienced this sort of bond in this way. He tried to clear his mind and let Thranduil in, gasping when the connection was made. He was afraid of what Thranduil would think when he saw the truth, when his lover saw how he was willing to hold on to Glorfindel even when he knew the truth. In his worry about what Thranduil would see, he was wholly unprepared for what he saw in the king’s heart and mind.

He saw Thranduil’s wedding, it was an elegant affair. He saw their marriage bed and the tenderness with which Thranduil made love to his wife. He saw the birth of Legolas, and felt the joy in Thranduil’s heart – the sense of completeness, the sense of purpose that the prince felt brought tears to his eyes. He watched Legolas grow, and felt the pain in Thranduil’s heart when he left his family to go to war.

He squeezed his eyes shut when the first images of carnage flooded his mind. He was not naïve about warfare, for he had lived through the fall of Eregion, but this was death and destruction on a scale he could not have imagined. He saw the Morannon through his lover’s eyes: the desolation, the bleak battlefield teeming with orcs, trolls, and every manner of foul beast; he heard the cries of dying elves and men, heard the unceasing whine of arrows, the battle cries, and the guttural grunts and growls of the orcs. Then he heard his lover’s voice crying out and saw Oropher’s regiment driven into the marshes. He saw Gildor and Glorfindel charging after them, trying in vein to stop the slaughter; he heard the sound of Thranduil’s heart pounding in his chest, his breath roaring in his ears as he ran after his father, crying out to him as the rough, black scimitar pierced Oropher’s chest, then he saw the proud Sinda King fall to his knees in the mire. He watched as Oropher’s body was taken by the foul ground, slowly sinking into the black swamp, never to be retrieved. It was Glorfindel who retrieved the king’s ring, crown, and lance before they disappeared into the muck, and it was Glorfindel who bore those things back to Thranduil. He saw the Black Tower, the image struck fear into his heart; then finally he saw the Dark Lord himself, felt the beast’s gaze mark his beloved, then watched as Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand.

Thranduil felt tears prick his eyes as he saw his lover’s past. The cage he was put into as his friends died, the fear he felt then and how he prayed for death. He saw Glorfindel and Gildor, watched as they fought valiantly and rescued both his beloved and Erestor. He felt the love that Lindir harbored for Glorfindel, and saw their first night. The hold Glorfindel once had was powerful, and it pained him when he saw Lindir’s trust broken. So many years of cold, empty longing for something Lindir feared he would never have. The fear of losing Glorfindel, the pain of keeping the Elda, then the utter release when he finally walked away. If Thranduil had ever doubted Lindir’s devotion to him, that doubt was erased then, for he saw that his minstrel’s heart was true, and that his lover’s heart belonged to him in total. He opened his eyes, blinking to focus through his tears as he gazed into Lindir’s own glistening orbs. They had both suffered in different ways, and now they both could find peace.

Lindir wrapped his arms around Thranduil and held him tightly. “Oh, my love, no one should ever have to go through what you went through. So much pain and death…”

“Pain is pain, regardless of the source, and you have suffered as greatly as I have, my treasure. Now we have one another, we will suffer no more.”

“No more,” Lindir echoed.

Thranduil pressed a kiss to his beloved’s lips, and they made love as Ithil waned.

*****

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