Rating: R
Pairing: Elrohir/Legolas
Beta: The lovely Aradiria. The one who gushes in the right places and strokes
my ego so capably. Thank you, my friend!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and I am making no money from this
story. No copyright infrindgement is intended, and I write this with the
utmost respect for JRR Tolkien's writings and his world.
Summary: Elrohir finds himself in a dark place when his love leaves him.
Warnings: slash, *angst*. This is rather dark in the beginning, and as I
*really* don't want to spoil the story, just trust me. Nothing bad happens.
I promise.
A/N: I wrote this a long time ago. I had intended for it to be part of a
series, but as I haven't done anything with it in months, I figured I'd
post this as a stand alone. There is a possibility of a beginning and an
ending, as this is really the middle of the story. We'll see how it goes.
Feedback gratefully accepted and welcomed.
The sun was just beginning to cast a pink glow over the early morning sky
when Elrohir blinked awake. This used to be his favorite time of day, and
he had always awoken with the dawn. He loved to lay in his bed and watch
the world wake up before starting his day. It was a habit he had grown accustomed
to when he and his lover had been together in Middle-earth. Sometimes, Elrohir
allowed himself to pretend he was laying in his love's arms, both of them
greeting the morning in their silent way. Most times, he lay alone with
his memories.
Birds began chirping, their voices rejoicing in the glory of Anor's coming.
The birds were different here, but their song was the same. The elf watched
with dull eyes as the sun streamed through his window. He was very still
for long moments, prolonging the torture, reliving the sweetest moments
of his life when his lover would kiss him good morning and then bound out
of bed to face the new day.
He dragged himself from his bed when the sun hit his face, shuffled into
the bathing chamber to draw his bath, and stumbled to the wardrobe to chose
his clothing. Every morning, the same routine. Every morning, the same feelings
of isolation, devistation, and rejection. Every morning, the same question.
Would today be the day? Is this the day I die?
Elrohir was merely going through the motions of life. He had long lost all
desire to read, to ride, hunt, and even eat. Nothing mattered to him now.
His soul was ripped in two.
His father thought the best place for him was Valinor, that his youngest
son would find some measure of peace and healing on these revered shores.
But his son did not. The youngest Peredhel honestly hadn't cared. He allowed
Elrond to take him here, allowed him to think he would be ok. He wasn't
ok. He would never be ok. Not even here. Especially not here.
Why wouldn't everyone just leave him in peace to fade? There was nothing
left for him now, nothing but the memory of words spoken in anger and fear,
the feeling of his life ripped from his grasp. Elrohir no longer dreamed.
He no longer took pleasure in the smallest of things as he was so known
to do. His life had become one dark, empty void.
Finally dressed in simple black robes, his hair severely braided for convenience
more than anything else, Elrohir shoved his feet into his shoes and left
his rooms. He knew everyone was worried about him. He knew his brother whispered
with Erestor in their rooms at night. He knew his father paced the halls
of this house when he thought no one was awake.
They were fools, trying to help him when he desired nothing but to cease
to exist. They could not understand what he was going through. They constantly
tried to speak to him, to get him to speak about his pain, to engage in
the things he had so loved... before his world had gone dark.
And it had. His love had gone away, leaving him alone is this nothingness,
this black hole of emptiness, where he could do nothing but welcome the
absence of all that was.
*~*~*~*
The day had dragged. All days dragged for him now. He lad little memory
of exactly what it was he had done this day, preferring to let others think
for him. Thinking hurt now. Everything hurt now.
But this. This was his time. When he was truly alone, and was free to mourn
his lost soul for as long as he wished.
Elrohir made quick work of undressing for bed, slipping under the covers
without even bothering to unbraid his hair or hang his robes. He no longer
cared.
He closed his eyes and remembered. Remembered golden hair and sparkling
blue eyes. Silky soft skin and whispered words of love. Moments of passion
and moments of tenderness. Those were the worst. Elrohir had a whole library
of memories to draw upon, and he could take them out and look a them as
much as he wished. And no one could take those away from him.
He let his mind drift, choosing a memory from among hundreds of thousands
to relive this night, a ghost of a smile crossing his face as the images
rose behind closed eyes.
*~*~*~*
Night had settled in Imladris, and most elves were seeking their beds. The
summer breeze ruffled the gauzy curtains over the open balcony doors, allowing
the sweetness from the gardens below to drift through the room. Two elves,
one light, one dark, stood in the center of the room breathing each other
in. A hand reached out to cup a face.
Another tugged the being closer. Lips met and tongues danced in delicate
steps. Soft sighs escaped the kiss, hands stroked satiny hair.
Fingers unfastened and untied, clothing falling around the two, heedless
of where they landed, still locked in that tender kiss. The air swelled
with love and electricity, and soon the two stood naked against each other.
They began to move, as one, to the bed. Two bodies fell together, into downy
softness. They rolled and settled, the light on top of the dark, eyes gazing
deep into each other's souls. They began to touch, tender caresses filled
with love, their eyes never leaving each other's.
Sweat broke out along pale skin, pink tongues lapped at hardened nipples,
heads were thrown back in bliss. Hands probed and stroked, mouths searched,
tongues still danced. A body was breached, eyes closed in rapture, then
opened to fix on the blue above. They took each other slowly, savoring each
sensation, drawing out each moan. Long, sure thrusts, words of love ripped
from their souls. They were one.
They came together, at the same moment, each feeling the other's pleasure.
A blonde head dropped onto a pale chest. Both gasped for breath as they
clung to each other. Vows of the heart were spoken, promises to never leave,
to love forever. They lay together, wrapped together, wrapped in their love.
Hands stroked slowly, eyes filled with sleep. Both elves drifted off, in
love, happy, and together.
*~*~*~*
Elrohir gasped as the pain swelled in his chest. Each night, he felt his
pain anew. He hugged a spare pillow to his chest, sobs wracking his thin
frame, silver tears sliding down his face. Every night he cried his silver
tears for his love who was never coming home. He cried for his broken soul.
He cried for all the lost moments they would never have. He cried for the
mornings, which he never wanted to see again.
Every night, he cried his silver tears and fell into exhausted reverie,
numb to everything for a short time. Every night he whispered the same words,
calling for Mandos. Each morning, he started over.
Days passed him by, weeks and months. Elrohir had no concept of time, he
had no desire to mark the passing of time. And so he drifted in his sea
of pain and loneliness. The same pattern, day after day. Wake up, dress,
pass the time, sometimes eat, and sleep. And each night he cried silver
tears. There was no change.
*~*~*~*
It was evening. A brisk autumn breeze swirled around the elf on the balcony.
He rubbed his arms, not from cold, but from a lack of something to do. It
was beautiful here. The forests, the beaches, the gardens, everything was
so much more than in Middle-earth. The elf wondered what took him so long
to sail. Then he remembered. He knew the pain he caused, he could feel it
through their bond. He had a matching hole inside himself. But, at the time,
there was nothing to be done. He had a job to do, and he had done it. Then
he had promises to fulfill, and he couldn't follow the will of his heart.
Now he could. He had no more promises or obligations left unfulfilled. He
had tied up all lose ends before leaving. He had made sure that this time
there would be nothing to separate them again. That is, if he would see
him.
The elf stood and waited. Only time would tell.
*~*~*~*
It had been a long day. Elrohir was tired. All he wanted to do was crawl
in bed and forget his life. He opened the door to his rooms and entered,
shutting and locking the door behind him. It was a habit borne out of unwanted
relatives checking up on him at various points during the night. Elrohir
hated that, and took it upon himself to insure it wouldn't happen any longer.
He didn't understand why everyone couldn't just leave him alone.
He walked to the bathing chamber, his head bowed with the weight of his
grief. His feet shuffled across the floor, making a soft shushing sound
with each step. The black robes fell away, leaving the elf in black leggings
and a worn black tunic. He entered the bathing chamber and began drawing
a bath.
He never even noticed the figure of a blonde haired elf standing in the
shadows of his balcony.
*~*~*~*
The blonde elf stood in shock. He knew his beloved was in pain, but he had
not thought it was this bad. As he watched Elrohir cross the room, he could
feel the desolation and the elf's desire to die roll over him in waves.
He sank to his knees, burring his face in his hands and began to sob.
Elrohir would never forgive him. He would never allow him back into his
heart, into his life. He had ruined every chance of happiness for them both.
He prayed to the Valar, and anyone else listening, to give him a chance
to speak to Elrohir. To try to make them both whole again.
*~*~*~*
Elrohir sank into the hot water, welcoming the pain it brought. He rested
his head against the edge of the sunken pool and again willed Mandos to
take him.
Nothing happened. As usual. With a sigh, the Peredhel took up the soap and
scrubbed himself raw. His hair would wait til the morrow. One thing at a
time. He had only so much strength.
Silence settled around him with the settling of the water. Something was
wrong. Elrohir lifted his head. Something was tugging at him. He knew not
what, but it was there.
Having no desire to probe the depths of his soul at the moment, Elrohir
rose and dried off quickly. He carelessly drew on a pair of sleep pants,
viciously tying the string at his waist. He took up the comb and yanked
the snarls from his hair.
But it was still there. Something was calling him.
He was not alone.
*~*~*~*
The blonde elf staggered to his feet, needing to get away, to leave, to
cast himself from the nearest rooftop for what he had done. He knew now
that he had made a foolish mistake in coming here. Elrohir would never forgive
him.
He could see that now. There was nothing left to do but try to move on.
But even as he thought it, the blonde knew he was wrong. He belonged to
Elrohir, and Elrohir to him. There was no separating them. Their soul was
broken, and he had to find a way to fix it.
Maybe if he spoke to Elrond, or Elladan, they would help him. He had to
try. One foot in front of the other, walk to the door. He had just reached
out and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob when he heard his name.
*~*~*~*
"Legolas."
Elrohir could not believe his eyes. Was he dreaming? Yes, that must be it.
He fell into reverie in the bathing pool and now he was dreaming that his
beloved Legolas had come for him. Of course that was it.
But as Legolas turned and met his eyes, the moment he looked into those
cerulean orbs, he knew he was real.
Legolas had come.
Elrohir staggered back as if stabbed, blindly reaching for the doorframe
to support himself. His hand came in contact with the solid wood and glanced
off it, causing him to tumble backwards. Elrohir closed his eyes and braced
for the impact.
It never came.
In a flash, Legolas crossed the room and swept his beloved up into his arms.
In two strides he reached the bed. He bent and gently placed Elrohir in
the middle, and sat at his side. Elrohir opened his eyes at the softness
beneath him and was startled to see Legolas sitting next to him, smoothing
back his hair with his right hand.
He looked up into his love's eyes, feeling his soul mending, now that it's
other half was near.
"What are you doing here," Elrohir whispered.
"I needed to see you." Legolas whispered. He leaned closer, propped
himself up on his left elbow, taking possession of Elrohir's right hand.
He continued to stroke Elrohir's black hair.
"I've needed to see you for hundreds of years. Why have you come now?"
there was no accusation in Elrohir's tone, his voice the steady monotone
it had taken on since Legolas left.
"I'm sorry, meleth nín," Legolas kissed Elrohir's knuckles.
"I know things are far from right between us, but I needed to fulfill
all my promises and duties before leaving."
"And have you?" Elrohir almost sounded bored, and Legolas recoiled
physically from the lack of feeling in his words.
"Yes, my beloved, I have. There is nothing to keep me away from you
ever again. We can truly be together now."
"I do not know if I can," the Peredhel's said in a whisper, a
silver tear trailing down his cheek.
"Elrohir, I know you can. Can't you feel it? Our soul is mending. We
are whole again," Legolas said desperately.
"Were you ever broken?"
Legolas stared down at his lover in shock. His lip began to quiver and his
eyes filled with fresh tears. He buried his face in Elrohir's chest.
"I was so broken, meleth. From the moment I left you in Imladris, I
felt a hole open inside me. That hole has only gotten bigger as time went
on. I knew after a while that it was the space where your soul should have
been. And it hurt so much." Legolas sobbed. He raised his face and
looked up at Elrohir. "I am so sorry, meleth nín. I do not know
what I can do to mend this. I have been so lost without your love and your
soul to guide me. I have never felt so alone in my life. And I know that
I never want to be parted from you. I want to be by your side until the
end of time."
Legolas slid his arms under Elrohir's body and hugged the elf tight as he
cried. Elrohir raised a hand and placed it on Legolas' head, stroking his
silky hair. His hand tingled as he ran his fingers through blonde hair.
Tears ran down his face in silvery tracks, and all he wanted was to wrap
his arms around his elf and never let go.
"Hush, meleth. It will be alright," Elrohir whispered to his love.
He sat up and cradled his beloved prince in his arms. His arms were filled
with his love once more, and Elrohir took a shuddering breath as he felt
his soul sliding into Legolas, and Legolas' into him. He looked down at
the elf in his lap, drinking in the sight of bright blue eyes, lovely high
cheekbones, downy skin, and soft, full lips.
Legolas sat up and faced Elrohir, cupping his cheek in his hand.
"I love you, Elrohir," Legolas said.
"And I love you, Legolas," Elrohir smiled softly as Legolas' eyes
welled up again at those words.
As with one mind, they moved toward each other, their lips meeting in a
tender kiss. Both gasped at the contact, their lips eagerly feasting on
delicacies that have long been denied. Hands reached to reacquaint themselves
with the other's body. They fell into their old rhythm, blonde on black,
lips still locked in a breathless kiss. Elrohir opened under Legolas' questing
tongue, and their dance began again.
They strained against one another, oiled fingers slid inside a welcoming
body. Elrohir clenched his eyes and threw his head back against the pillow,
moaning at sensations he had long thought lost to him forever. He grasped
at Legolas' sweat slicked back, arching against the body atop him.
When he was ready, Legolas covered Elrohir's gasping mouth in a heated kiss
as he slid inside. Elrohir broke the kiss with a strangled moan, fingers
tense and pulling at Legolas' thighs. Legolas watched his beloved in that
moment, drinking in the sight of heavy lidded grey eyes and flushed cheeks,
lips swollen and ripe.
Elrohir wrapped his long legs around Legolas and pulled, driving the elf
further into him and making both gasp. Looking down into the eyes of his
love, Legolas withdrew slowly and paused.
"Meleth e guil nin," Legolas breathed against Elrohir's mouth.
"Aye, seron vell. And you are mine."
They kissed once more, and Legolas thrust himself home. The room filled
with the sounds of skin meeting skin, breathy sighs and soft moans. Their
lips were never apart for long. Elrohir took the love Legolas offered eagerly,
and Legolas held nothing back.
They moved as one, Elrohir meeting Legolas' every thrust. Their movements
became more frantic as their neared their completion. Legolas could feel
Elrohir tense beneath him, and knew their time had come. He watched as Elrohir
threw his head back with a loud moan, warmth splashing between them. Legolas
found his own release a moment later, spurred on by Elrohir's muscles contracting
around him.
They were one once more.
Legolas withdrew carefully and drew Elrohir into his arms. Both elves were
trembling and they clung to each other as their breathing returned to normal.
Legolas rolled to his side, still holding his lover. Elrohir laid his head
on the Mirkwood prince's chest and sighed.
"I thought I would never see you again," he whispered, dangerously
close to losing his composure once more.
"Shh, meleth. I will never leave you again." Legolas ran his fingers
through the Peredhel's tangled hair, gently loosening the snarls.
Elrohir raised his eyes and looked into his love's face. "See that
you don't."
Legolas wiped a silver tear from Elrohir's cheek with his thumb. "Come
now, no more tears. We have a lot to talk about, but we have time. Come,
love, let us sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
"In the morning," Elrohir whispered, a soft smile on his face.
He rested his head on the pillow next to Legolas and felt the blonde wrap
his arms around him. His favorite time of day with his love by his side.
He would no longer have to remember and imagine, he would be there with
him.
Though the two elves, one light and one dark, were far from whole, both
took comfort in the knowledge that they would be and drifted off to sleep
in each other's arms with thoughts of the sweet morning in their heads.
Fin.
Elvish translations:
Meleth nín: my love
Meleth: love
Meleth e guil nin: Love of my life.
Seron vell: beloved, literally "dear lover"