Second Chances

Part 8

Posted: March 2004
Author: Larien Elengasse

*****

Upon entering the gates of the Last Homely House, Aragorn took the hobbits to see their friend, Frodo, and Legolas took his mare back to the stables. As he latched the gate to her stall and gave her an affectionate rub on her soft snout, he felt Glorfindel's hands upon his shoulders. He smiled as he turned around to face the Elda.

Glorfindel smiled down at his beloved. There were so many things he wanted to say to Legolas, so many things that would make no sense to him, for his love's memories were not the same as his own. Glorfindel remembered every blissfully perfect moment in Mandos' Halls, every touch, every smile, every sweet sigh. They had not been together long enough to consummate their love, but they had shared one perfect kiss before he left to return. And that kiss mingled in his memory with the one they shared but ten days hence on the very spot upon which he stood now.

"You came to find me," he said quietly, his deep voice filling the quiet stable.

"I could wait no longer, Glorfindel," Legolas answered softly. "I feared you might not return at all."

Glorfindel smiled, his fingers caressed the Prince's cheek. "You are brave, ernilen, to ride out alone when the Úlairi are about."

Legolas flushed and looked at the ground. "I do not know brave, Glorfindel. I only knew that I could not remain here while you were out there; I could not wait for your return, for fear of going mad."

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "I would have done the same, had it been me instead of you."

Neither said anything for a moment, the only sounds being those of the horses contentedly munching their hay and the sound of their own breathing. Nevertheless, the silence was pregnant with unspoken deference and adoration. Glorfindel took Legolas' hand and tugged upon it. "Come, I am weary and travel worn. Walk with me to my quarters."

Legolas followed the Elda from the stables back up the path to the main house.

* * * *

Three days after Glorfindel's return, Legolas sat in the library, a large, leather bound tome lay open in front of him. It was the history of the Noldor in the First Age. He had been reading it for hours; Anor had risen full in the sky and was now making its way along its western track. The late afternoon sun poured through the open windows, warming the stone floor and pooling about Legolas' feet.

He knew some about the history of this much-beleaguered people, some from his father, some from Fëanor; but the book filled in the rest of what he had not known. His heart lay heavy in his breast as he read of the Dagor Bragollach, Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Fall of Gondolin, and the ultimate end of the Sons of Fëanor. His fingers lay upon the page that told of the Fall of Gondolin, and of the brave sacrifices made by High King Turgon, Ecthelion of the Fountain, and his friend, Glorfindel.

"So much death," he whispered to the quiet room.

"Aye, death was ever present in those days."

He turned around to see Erestor standing in the sunlit doorway, his heavy, dark robes obscuring all but the tips of his boots, his hands, and his head. The Noldo walked into the room and took a seat beside Legolas at the large, heavy table.

Erestor continued quietly. "It was an age of sorrow for all elf-kind, not only the Noldor. Your own kin fell in great numbers in the Ruin of Doriath, and your dear friends and kin, the Teleri, fell at the hands of their own kinsman in the midst of Fëanor's rage."

Legolas shook his head slowly and looked into the stormy eyes of Elrond's Counselor. "He knew not what he did, my Lord. He knew not…"

Erestor put up his hand and nodded. "You need not tell me this, Legolas. I was there, I was a witness to all that occurred, though I was barely past my majority." He folded his hands in his lap and continued. "Fëandro was a grand elf; he had the love of his father and the love of the Valar. He was blessed with talent beyond compare, and he glowed from within as if the very light of the Two Trees shown in his fëa itself."

Erestor took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling, and he continued, "I would have followed him into the dark pits of Angband had he asked. I would have followed him anywhere. We all knew what we were doing, Legolas, though there are those who wish to excuse us and lay the blame squarely at his feet. No, it rests with all of us, with everyone who swore the oath. We all wanted revenge for the murder of our beloved King, for the theft of the Silmarils, and for the rape of Valinor by that beast. So we swore our oaths to follow him, but his son's suffered most, for they knew not what it was they swore to do." His eyes focused back on Legolas and he saw unshed tears glimmering in their sapphire depths.

"I saw him," he continued quietly, "as he lay dying, his beautiful form defiled by the cruel whips and fire of the Balrogs. He was in agony, Legolas; you could see it in his eyes. He longed for death, for release from the pain that wracked both his body and his soul. His last words were spoken out of love for his father, out of love for the creations that he had put his very soul into. The Silmarils were more than just jewels, Legolas. To Fëandro, they were like his children; they were part of him, part of the legacy of his existence. They contained the light of the Two Trees, but they also contained the light of Fëandro, and they were in the hands of the beast that had murdered his father. He could not rest should they stay there, so he asked his sons to renew their oath to retrieve them, to make war upon those who would withhold them. He knew not the portent of those words, and in the swearing of them, the Sons of Fëanor brought themselves to ruin."

"He grieves," Legolas answered softly. "He grieves for the slaughter of the Teleri, for forsaking his own kin upon the Grinding Ice, and most of all, he grieves for the woe that fell upon his sons because of the swearing of the oath." The Sinda sighed. "He tries to hide it from me, he tries to tuck himself away inside me so that I do not feel his pain and longing for the one he loves, but he cannot, for I sense it always."

Erestor had an inkling that something was different about Legolas from the start. He had gathered from his master that it had something to do with Fëanor, but he could not imagine what. Now his ears beheld a tale so strange that many would think the elf mad. However, as he looked into the Sinda's eyes he saw the truth, he saw the one he had given up peace to follow, the one he had pledged his honor to so many years ago.

Legolas looked into Erestor's eyes and a wry smile crossed his lips. "You think me mad, and I cannot blame you. How could I know of Fëandro's mind? He died before my father was even born."

Erestor shook his head slowly and whispered, "No, I do not think you mad, my Lord. He lives within you." He slid from his chair and knelt before the Sinda Prince, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand. "My Lord," he whispered shakily, "I pledged myself to you once, I hold myself to that pledge still."

Legolas' eyes widened in shock as Erestor knelt himself before him. He reached out slowly and placed his hand upon the Noldo's shoulder. "Do not humble yourself thus, Erestor," he said softly. "I am not worthy of such an honor."

Erestor looked up into Legolas' eyes, and for a moment, he swore they flashed gray. "How is this possible, my Lord?" he asked in hushed tones. "How can the two of you exist in one body?"

Legolas shook his head. "I know not, Erestor. But we do, Fëandro and I both live within this shell." He tugged at Erestor's robe. "Please, my Lord, rise, do not kneel before me."

Erestor slipped back into his chair, his hands resting in his lap, still staring in wonderment at the young Sinda that sat before him. "What can I do, my Lord, to help ease this burden? Have you spoken with Master Elrond? Perhaps he can help you."

Legolas shook his head and answered quietly, "I do not need help, Erestor. Fëandro is no burden, he is a part of me."

Erestor nodded and looked at the floor. "Understood, my Lord. I meant no offense."

Legolas smiled sadly and placed his hand on top of the Noldo's. "No offense is taken, Erestor. Your allegiance and understanding are more than I would dare ask of you."

Erestor smiled and clasped Legolas' hand. "You have both, my Lord." His expression sobered for a moment. "Does Glorfindel know of this? The two of you seem to have grown… close, since your arrival."

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, he knows not. How could I tell him? He would think me mad."

Erestor smiled. "I do not think you mad, my Lord. Glorfindel is a wise elf, he may understand this better than you believe."

"I am afraid to tell him, Erestor," Legolas responded. "I fear for what it will do to this newfound friendship of ours."

"This is a secret that cannot be kept from him, my Lord, not if the two of you are to grow closer. If you care for him, then truly you must trust him?" Erestor questioned.

"I do trust him, Erestor," Legolas answered. "But this is too much to ask of one I have known for so short a time. I would not have asked it of you, but the telling of your tale moved me to speak before I could think the better of it."

Erestor smiled broadly and leaned forward, speaking softly to the Prince. "Glorfindel is more than what he seems, my Lord. He is wise beyond the measure of many here in Imladris; perhaps the wisest of all save Master Elrond. He has seen and experienced more than any elf living amongst us. He will understand, fear him not."

"Perhaps," Legolas answered. "We are to take a walk this evening after the gathering in the Hall of Fire. Mayhap that is the time to tell him."

Erestor nodded. "That would be an excellent time, my Lord. This secret cannot exist between you for long if you are to grow closer. Trust in him, my Lord, he will not betray that trust."

Legolas smiled broadly. "You are a good and true friend to him, Lord Erestor, he must be thankful for you."

"And I am your humble servant, my Lord. Do not hesitate to call upon me for aid should you need it."

Erestor slowly rose from his chair and bowed his head, and then he turned and left the Prince to his thoughts.

* * * *

That evening, three days after the halfling Frodo Baggins' arrival, a great celebration was held in the Hall of Fire, to celebrate the victory at the Bruinen. Songs were sung in honor of the victorious, and Aragorn told of the fear that Glorfindel struck in the hearts of the Nazgûl. Glorfindel smiled graciously and in turn regaled the listeners with tales of the Dúnadan from the North and his bravery during their perilous journey to Imladris. He spoke of the valor of the hobbits as well, telling the tale of how they braved the wild to accompany Frodo to Imladris.

Legolas looked at his friend Glorfindel in awe, as he listened to the Dúnadan speak.

Aragorn stood tall, adorned in bright elven mail and cloaked in blue velvet with a bright star upon his breast. "And Glorfindel stepped from the trees, his cloak thrown back and torch held high. The light of old shown from within him and the Nazgûl shrunk back in fear and loathing. They were caught between the roaring of the river and the might of the Eldar, their horses panicked and fled into the waters, and the Nine were washed away."

Glorfindel smiled and rose to stand beside Aragorn. "And Aragorn stood beside me, his torch held high, the fierceness of the Númenor raging in his blood. I knew that with him there beside me, the Nazgûl would flee, and Frodo would be safely borne to my master's house upon my faithful steed."

They clasped one another on the shoulder, smiling as they embraced one another. "Hannon le, Aragorn o Dúnedain," Glorfindel said softly.

"Hannon le, Glorfindel o Imladris," Aragorn answered quietly.

Glorfindel took his seat beside Legolas and smiled, leaning over and affectionately bumping his young friend to shake the look of awe from his face. He then felt his face flush uncharacteristically as he looked at the floor.

Legolas leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Mellonen I gallion."

Glorfindel chuckled and shook his head. "Silence, ernilen, and drink your wine," he playfully chided.

Legolas laughed softly and took a sip of the potent wine in his goblet.

As the night wore on, the revelers drank their fill of wine, nibbling on delicacies brought in on finely crafted silver trays. Master Elrond's minstrel, Lindir, and Bilbo engaged in a singing contest, one trying to out do the other. Soon Merry, Pippin, and Bilbo were dancing and singing songs of their homeland, raising their goblets in toast to Master Elrond and his fine minstrels. Lindir laughed and played on, enjoying the raucous mirth of the hobbits.

Legolas felt flushed and dreamily happy from the effects of the wine and he sat down his goblet, covering it with his hand as the steward came by to refill it. "No more for me, meldir," he said softly.

The steward smiled, bowed, and made his way to the next goblet.

"Mmm…" Glorfindel murmured against the Prince's ear. "Has my friend imbibed a wee bit too much?"

Legolas chuckled and nodded. "Aye, I think I have, though ‘twas not my intention. I am not accustomed to such a drink at home."

Glorfindel tugged upon his friend's sleeve and answered quietly, "Come, ernilen, let us partake of the fresh night air. That should return your senses to you."

Legolas rose slowly, steadying himself upon Glorfindel's arm for a moment before they discreetly left the hall. As they stepped through the doorway into the garden, he took a deep breath and smiled. "Ah, yes," he whispered. "I feel better already."

Glorfindel chuckled and nodded. "Excellent well," he answered. "Shall we walk?" He guided Legolas through the garden to the low stone bench they sat upon the night of his arrival.

As they looked at the stars and enjoyed the solitude of this private corner of the garden, the elf lord took Legolas' hand between both of his own. He turned it over slowly, his fingers tracing over the long, elegant fingers and strong muscles. "I have long admired archers' hands," he said quietly. "So elegant, yet so powerful. Their lean efficiency is a thing of beauty, as is the form of an archer in total."

Legolas looked at the radiant elf lord, the Elda that had captured his heart. Glorfindel's long golden locks fell around his shoulders, his azure eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. His eyes wandered over the fine cheekbones and full lips. He ached to kiss him again, ached to touch him. His conversation with Erestor earlier that day returned to him and he swallowed, trying to summon the courage to tell Glorfindel the truth of who he was.

Glorfindel looked up into Legolas' eyes, reading the unspoken question that lay between them, seeing the desire and fear that warred within his sapphire eyes. He placed one hand upon the back of Legolas' neck and drew his love forward, tilting his head as their lips came into contact.

He swallowed as he felt the carnal nature of his love flare in his breast and in his loins. Ages had passed since he had taken a lover, ages spent dreaming and longing for this moment. The soft moan that escaped his beloved's lips caused an answering one to escape his own, and he leaned forward, seeking to deepen their kiss.

Legolas moaned quietly, his hands finding their way to Glorfindel's chest. His fingers roamed the soft silk of his tunic, creeping upward toward his shoulders. He did what he had longed to do since he first saw the elf lord, he plunged his fingers into golden silk, entwining his hands in Glorfindel's rich hair.

Glorfindel sought to deepen their kiss, and gently entreated entry with his tongue upon Legolas' lips. He heard the nearly imperceptible gasp that escaped his beloved and trembled as he moaned in return. His love opened to him as a flower in bloom, slowly unfolding, gently yielding to his tentative advance. He could barely resist the urge to crush the Prince against his breast as he gently pulled him closer, tasting of his sweet, untried mouth slowly and completely.

Legolas' mind swam in a million different directions; sensations and emotions flooded him at a nearly blinding speed. He was inundated with feelings of love, of desire, and of profound sadness. It was then that he realized where the sadness came from, not from himself, but from the one that lived within him.

He grasped Glorfindel's shoulders in his hands and pushed against him, pulling away from his soft mouth and escaping his embrace. "No," he croaked out as he scrambled to his feet. "I… I cannot…"

Glorfindel looked up at his beloved, afraid that he had pushed too far, too fast. "Legolas, melethen, have I…"

Unshed tears shown in Legolas' eyes as he looked at Glorfindel sitting upon the bench, so beautiful, so gentle. He could see the confusion in the elf lord's eyes and he stammered, "I cannot do this, I am sorry…" He turned and ran back to the main house, leaving a stunned Glorfindel in his wake.

Glorfindel looked down at his hands and his heart ached. For one brief moment, he held the one he loved above all others, and in his greedy desire, he had chased him away. He placed his head in his hands, he could still smell Legolas upon him, still taste him in his mouth. He ached with the loss of him as he sat alone.

Ernilen = my prince
Úlairi = Nazgûl
Dagor Bragollach = Battle of Sudden Flame, Fall of High King Fingolfin
Nirnaeth Arnoediad = Battle of Unnumbered Tears, last great battle of Beleriand
Hannon le = thank thee
Aragorn o Dúnedain = Aragorn of the Dúnedain
Glorfindel o Imladris = Glorfindel of Imladris
Mellonen I gallion = my friend the hero
Meldir = friend (male)
Melethen = my love

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