Chapter 14
~Imladris 2151 III~
Thranduil groaned and bit down on his own lower lip, drawing blood. His body trembled, inching closer to climax with each frantic buck of his hips. “I...I... cannot hold...on...much longer,” he rasped brokenly, slamming forward to bury himself in Erestor’s body before pushing back against Glorfindel’s forceful thrusts. “End it!”
A triumphant growl sounded in Glorfindel’s chest as he reached to wrap a practiced hand around Erestor’s neglected arousal. He pulled at the slick column once, twice...and then his mate howled, spilling in pearly rivulets over Glorfindel’s hand, his release setting off a chain of sensations that soon left all three elves lying boneless on the rumpled sheets.
Long moments passed before Erestor stretched languidly, tossing his head so that his sweat-damp hair hung over the edge of the bed to pool on the stone floor. “I daresay a bath is in order,” he said lazily, turning a sated indigo gaze on his companions.
“In a bit,” Thranduil replied, wrapping an affectionate arm around Erestor and burrowing back into Glorfindel’s embrace. “I would savor my last moments with you.”
“Last moments?” Glorfindel asked lightly, pulling the king closer. “Nay, not our last moments, melethron. The phrase sounds far too final for my liking. Say rather our private parting.”
“Our private parting, then,” Thranduil agreed with a smile. His face sobering, he added, “Though I know not when we will be together again.”
“Not soon enough,” Erestor broke in, pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s forehead before sitting up reluctantly. “But the time for parting will come all too soon, I fear.” Rising gracefully, he grasped Thranduil’s hand, tugging his lover to his feet. “Come, have your bath before the breakfast chimes begin to ring.”
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~Mirkwood 2151 III~
Legolas sat watching soberly as the twins stuffed the last items into their bulging packs. “This chamber will seem empty without your packs and weapons,” he remarked with forced levity. “I have become accustomed to your clutter.”
Elladan chuckled, tugging on the straps of his bag experimentally. Satisfied that the knots would hold, he sat the scuffed leather pack beside the door and moved to sit on the bed, drawing Legolas back into a loose embrace. “Then you must bring yourself and your bow back to Imladris, 'Las, to clutter our chamber for a while. “
“Indeed,” Elrohir interrupted with a grin as he dropped to the bed, burrowing into the tangle of arms and legs. “I have become accustomed to golden hair on my pillow and your scent on my skin. It will seem a bit lonely with only ‘Dan to taunt and torment.”
“I will do my best to keep you occupied,” Elladan shot back, one ebony eyebrow arching in amusement. “Truth, you may need ‘Las to rescue you by winter’s end.”
“Promise, tôren?” Elrohir retorted cheekily, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Legolas snickered. “The quiet is what shall do me in, I fear. How will I survive without your squabbling?” Suddenly serious, he whispered, “I love you.” He tightened his hold. “I will miss you both more than I can say.”
“As we will miss you,” Elladan whispered, pressing a flurry of kisses to the prince’s face. “We love you.”
“It is but for a while, anor nín,” Elrohir promised soberly. “We have many days together to look forward to.”
“Aye, we do, indeed,” Legolas agreed with a smile, brushing a lingering kiss over each twin's mouth in turn before rising with a sigh. “I suppose that as a good host, I must go see to your mounts. I will take your packs for stowing.”
“We will meet you in the courtyard,” Elladan replied, standing to reach for his jerkin as the prince left the chamber. “Best dress for the worst, ‘Roh.”
Elrohir nodded, tying the heavy black leather vest closed before lifting his shoulder pads with a questioning glance at his brother.
Elladan helped settle the thick leather armor onto the elf- knight’s shoulders, buckling the straps snugly. “I am sorry to go,” he offered as he checked the fit carefully, “but it will be good to be home again, as well.”
“Aye,” Elrohir answered, helping his twin in turn. “’Tis less painful, this parting, than the last in Imladris.”
“It is,” Elladan agreed, fastening the high leather collar that protected Elrohir’s neck. “There is no longer doubt. We have survived.”
The elf-knight smiled grimly, then his face softened as he reached out to tuck an ebony braid behind his brother’s ear. “Survived a trial by fire, tôren. Or rather a trial by family, death, grief, and pride.”
“You have forgotten the spiders, rohir nín,” Elladan teased, lifting his chin as Elrohir fitted the stiff collar. “Do not neglect to mention the local wildlife.”
Elrohir raised an eyebrow in unspoken comment, then suddenly sobered. “I have wondered these last days, ‘Dan, if mayhap...if we might...”
“The time is not yet right, 'Roh,” Elladan broke in gently. “There are many partings to be endured, and the choice is yet before us.”
“And we will choose together, el nín,” Elrohir promised, searching his brother’s face closely. “But there is more, is there not?”
“Aye,” Elladan admitted reluctantly, “though I cannot perceive it clearly. There is a time to come when such a promise would cause him great anguish. Our troth belongs to the future yet, ‘Roh.”
“Then let us gird ourselves for present partings,” Elrohir said, giving his twin’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “’Las will be waiting.”
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~Imaldris 2151 III~
Elrond stood at the gates with Celebrían, his twilight gaze sympathetic as he watched Thranduil approach, flanked by Glorfindel and Erestor. The three seemed deep in conversation, their arms linked possessively, and as they neared the Mirkwood guard, mounted and awaiting the king, their progress slowed to a crawl. Reluctantly, the departing monarch pulled away to approach the Lord and Lady of the valley.
“I thank your for your sage advice, my lady, “ Thranduil began, lifting Celebrían’s hand to his lips, “and for your generosity in sharing it with me.”
“It is ample reward that you have found your peace,” the Lady of Imladris answered with a gentle smile. “Farewell, my friend.”
The king moved to embrace Elrond, pressing a kiss to each cheek in traditional farewell. “Farewell,” he said quietly. “I am grateful for your hospitality, and your friendship. I hope you will return to Mirkwood someday, under happier circumstances.”
“I will, indeed,” Elrond promised, returning the ritual kisses. “And you are always welcome in the valley.” A mischievous smile crossed his noble features as he added, “’Which is well, as we may someday be law-family.”
Thranduil chuckled, his emerald eyes sparkling. “We may, at that. Your whelps have developed quite a following in the Wood.” His expression becoming serious, he continued, “I thank you and Imladris for allowing them to serve Mirkwood.”
“You are welcome, my friend, though I doubt I could have prevented their staying,” Elrond replied with a wry grin. “But I understand you will be repaying the favor with both an archery master and a talented healer. So we will call it even.”
“We will,” Thranduil agreed, stepping back to bow formally. “Farewell, Elrond.”
“Farewell,” Elrond responded, bowing in turn. “Elbereth’s blessing to you.”
Turning to Erestor and Glorfindel, Thranduil caught both in a fierce embrace, heedless of the onlooking guards. “I suppose this is goodbye, my friends,” he whispered, "but only for a while. Thank you.”
“Elbereth’s blessings, melethron,” Erestor murmured. “I will miss you.”
“Goodbye, Thranduil,” Glorfindel said, pressing a ritual kiss to each of the king’s cheeks. “Now we may begin looking forward to our next meeting.”
“With much anticipation,” the king agreed, a smile easing the solemn lines of his face as he swung onto the back of his horse. Allowing himself a final glance at his lovers, Thranduil nodded to his captain, and turned toward home.
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~Mirkwood 2151 III~
“Here they come, ‘Golas, here they come!” Galueth squealed, pulling away from her brothers and running to meet the twins as they descended the steps to the courtyard. “Swing me, El’dan. Swing me El’hir,” she demanded, both hands reaching out expectantly. “Swing me before you go.”
Elladan grasped one hand, Elrohir the other, and they swung the elfling in a gentle arc, much to her delight.
“Mind your manners,” Anteruon chided mildly as Galueth’s joyous shrieks reached painful levels. “The twins will have need of their hearing on the journey to Imladris. Tell them goodbye, child.”
“Goodbye, El’hir,” the princess whispered soberly, snuggling against the elf-knight as he knelt to embrace her. “Must you leave? ‘Golas will be sad.”
“Aye, we must,” Elrohir affirmed, dropping a kiss on the intricate mahogany braids that crowned the elfling’s head. “But we will return as we may.”
“Indeed,” Elladan promised, kneeling beside his brother. “And do not forget that Anteruon and Legolas will be journeying to Imladris from time to time. Perhaps you could...”
“Come to visit you?” Galueth broke in excitedly, throwing her arms around Elladan. “I could see the waterfalls and play with ‘Del and braid your hair and meet your Nana and your Ada and Arwen...” Stopping for a much needed breath, the princess looked at Elladan, her eyes wide. “Could I?”
“Aye, if your Ada gives leave,” the elder twin promised with a smile, squeezing Galueth gently. “Goodbye, little one.”
“Goodbye, El’dan,” the princess replied. “I will look after ‘Golas. I will not let him mope.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Elladan said gravely, his eyes dancing. “Your words ease my mind.”
Rising reluctantly, the twins found their arms full of auburn- haired elleth, an amused Tiriadon looking on. “Farewell, my lords,” Sílolwen whispered, tears standing in her enormous brown eyes. “Thank you for bringing him back to me. Valar’s blessing on you both.”
“Farewell, my lady,” Elladan answered for them both, casting a helpless glance at the captain.
“Let them go before you create a scandal,” Tiriadon teased, gently drawing his lover away. “Legolas is a jealous sort.”
“That he is,” Elrohir agreed with a snort, clasping Tiriadon’s arm warmly. “Farewell, wood-elf,” he said, pulling the captain into a quick embrace. Meeting the shining green gaze, he smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Farewell, Peredhel,” Tiriadon retorted with a grin, squeezing the elf-knight’s arm. “You are most welcome. Turning to Elladan, he sobered. “Farewell, Elladan. I am in your debt.”
The elder twin shook his head firmly, kissing Tiriadon’s cheeks in ritual farewell. “You are not, captain. Indeed, I have a suspicion that we are all in your debt. Farewell, my friend.”
At that moment Barangolas appeared to throw his arms exuberantly around each of the twins in turn. “Be safe, you two. Lindel sends his apologies and best wishes.” A broad grin lit the youngest prince’s face. “We could not both leave the patrol, and I fear I pulled rank.”
“A decision which may leave your bed cold for days, tôren,” Legolas snickered as he joined the group. His smile fading, he met Elladan’s gaze. “All is ready, el nín.”
“We should make haste, then,“ the elder twin said with a deep sigh. “I have no wish to spend an extra night among the spiders.”
“A sound choice,” Anteruon offered, “though I am loath to see you go.” Gripping Elrohir’s forearm, he drew the elf-knight into a warm embrace. “Farewell, gwadoren. Valar’s blessings.”
“Farewell, my prince,” the elf-knight replied, tightening his arms. “Look after ‘Las.”
Releasing Elrohir, Anteruon moved to stand before the elder twin. “Thank you, my friend", he began, clasping Elladan’s shoulder, "for everything. I...”
“There is no need for such words between us,” Elladan said quietly, pulling him into a snug embrace. “Farewell, gwadoren. I look forward to your arrival in the valley.”
“And mine?” Legolas asked impishly, slipping an arm around his lover’s waist.
“And your arrival, as well,” Elladan retorted with a grin as Elrohir joined them. With a final nod at the well wishers, the three moved toward the gates, and the final parting.
“Farewell,” Legolas said and released each of his lovers with a lingering kiss, stepping back as they mounted the restive horses. “Be safe, ‘Dan...’Roh.”
“And you, ‘Las,” Elrohir answered. “Farewell.”
“Farewell, ‘Las,” Elladan echoed before tearing his eyes from the prince to meet Elrohir’s clouded gaze. “Ready, tôren?” he asked, and the elf-knight nodded silently.
Without a backward glance they rode up the hidden path, and soon vanished among the shadows of Mirkwood.
tôren – my brother
anor nín – my sun
rohir nín – my knight
gwadoren - my sworn brother