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The Comfort of the Lash
Author: TICS
Beta: none
Email: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Haldir/Legolas
Warnings: BDSM, hurt/comfort, slash, graphic sex
Request: bdsm, dark, angst, happy-ending
Written For: Anestel
The Elf struggled against his bonds, but to no avail. His arms were tightly bound above his head, his legs equally secured at the ankles, held immobile in a wide stance. Stilling, he relied on his extraordinary hearing to help him determine if he were alone since his eyes had been rendered useless by a thick piece of cloth tied over them. He heard his own ragged breath, the thudding of his own heart and the rush of his blood through his veins, but that was all. His body was heated from his struggles and he could feel a cool draft kissing his naked skin. Renewing his angry twisting, he fought again against the ropes that bound him, knowing it futile but unwilling to give up. Thusly engaged, he didn't hear the soft footfalls that announced another presence enter the room with him.
"Still you struggle? Your time would be better utilized contemplating strategies and reserving your energy than fighting against bonds that are nearly unbreakable. The ropes are hithlain, they will hold."
"Release me!" the bound Elf hissed through clenched teeth. "You will bring the wrath of my father's realm down on your head, cousin or no!"
A soft laugh reached his ears, the voice much nearer than before. He could feel his captor's warm breath tickle at the delicate folds of his ear. "Your father sent to you to us for this purpose, Legolas Thranduillion."
"You lie! My father sent me as an emissary of peace between our realms!"
"Nay, my Woodland cousin, he fears you soft...raised as the son of a King...pampered and spoiled. He fears you lacking in those qualities necessary to take your place as a warrior of his realm and has sent you to us...to me...to be instructed in those qualities you lack."
"No!" Legolas cried, renewing again his struggles. He refused to believe his captor's black words...refused to believe that his father would betray him in this manner...lie to him...send him away to be humiliated, bound hand and foot, blindfolded, naked...
"I fear it the truth. Heed me, Legolas Thranduillion...listen!" his captor bellowed, iron-strong fingers gripping Legolas' chin, holding his head immobile. "Your struggles and cries only make plain that your father is correct in his assumptions. You act as an elfling...the worst anyone has done to you is strip you of your dignity and bind you...no one has laid a hand to you, no one has sought to violate you in any way, and yet you thrash and scream as one tortured. No true warrior would act thusly...a true warrior would bide both his time and his energy, gathering what knowledge he could through whatever senses were available to him."
Legolas stilled, his heart thumping wildly in his chest from anger and fear and betrayal. The voice of his captor was familiar...he had heard it recently, upon his arrival. "Greetings, Legolas Thranduillion. You are expected by my Lord Amroth. Follow me..." whispered a memory's voice in his mind. "Haldir!" Legolas spat, remembering the name of the stoic warden who had first greeted him upon his arrival in Lothlorien.
Again that soft, mocking laugh. "Very good, very good. You learn quickly...that may save some of your skin before we are through," Haldir replied, the amusement in his voice obvious. "Lord Amroth has entrusted your education to me. For centuries I have trained his Galadhrim as wardens of the Golden Wood, now I will train you as well. Your first lesson is in obedience, for always above all else you must obey the commands of your Lord. Now, a question...know you how you came to be here in this room?"
"May the Valar curse you and your descendants, Haldir o Lothlorien! You are not my Lord!"
"In this room, I AM your Lord! In this room I am your Master, your King, your God! In battle, your commanding officer is your Lord...would you question and disobey his orders? To do so is to risk your life and the lives of your fellows, and such behavior cannot be tolerated. You will learn quickly to obey me, Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Now answer...know you how you came to be here in this room?" Haldir's voice was gruff with anger, his fingers tightening painfully on Legolas' jaw.
Legolas' answer was to jerk his chin from Haldir's grasp and swing his head forward with as much force as he could gather, hoping to make contact with the lying, filth-spewing mouth that taunted him.
"So be it...restitution for every display of disobedience will be taken from your hide, Legolas. Your skin will remember my words."
A loud crack of leather and an explosion of fiery pain swept Legolas' back, wringing a cry of surprise and anguish from the Elf's lips, his body instinctively twisting away from the lash that had been laid across his bare skin.
"Again! Know you how you came to be here in this room? Answer, or feel the lash again!"
Gritting his teeth, Legolas remained silent until his back was again assaulted by the teeth of the whip. Another painful cry filled the room as the lash found its mark on the pale skin of the Woodland prince.
"How came you to be here in this room, Legolas?" Haldir asked yet again, running the cruel leather of the whip through his fingers. He had not drawn the blood of the Prince and he knew from experience that, while painful for the Elf, the strokes would cause him no lasting damage. Centuries of practice had rendered Haldir proficient with the lash, and never did he lay a strike that was not under his absolute control.
"I was sent by my father as an emissary!" Legolas growled, teeth clenched against the pain.
Another strike, lower than the previous ones, against the small of his back.
"Listen, elfling! I asked not what brought you to Lothlorien, but how you came to be in this room! You hear what you wish to hear, and not what was truly said...a habit you must learn immediately to curtail, else risk death on the battlefield! Now answer!"
"I...spoke with Lord Amroth and was shown to my quarters. A meal was delivered to me there...the food or the wine! It was tampered with...spiced with an herb that rendered me unconscious...that is how I was brought here and woke to find myself shackled like an animal in this room!" Legolas deduced, his voice thick with anger and resentment, his eyes tearing with the fiery trails laid by the lash across his back.
Another soft laugh escaped Haldir's lips. "Very good...very good indeed. Yes, you were given wine mixed with a potent herb. Now, another question...tell me of your mother."
"I will not speak her fair name in your foul presence, Galadhrim!" Legolas snarled, "I care not how many lashes fall on my back. Lay it open to the bone, I care not!"
"We shall see youngling...we shall see how long your brave words hold," Haldir murmured. He traced the rounded curve of Legolas' buttocks with his crop before delivering several sharp lashes. His gray eyes darkened as he watched the alabaster skin of the prince raise in angry red welts. "Tell me of your mother!"
"NO!"
A strike fell across the Elf Prince's broad shoulders.
"Answer me, elfling! Tell me of your mother!"
"NO!" Legolas screamed, his back a fiery agony, his knees giving way under the brutality of the lash as it was laid to his skin again, his weight borne by his bound arms.
Again and again the question was asked, and again and again the pain-ridden Elf refused to answer.
"Tell me of your mother!" Haldir roared.
"No..." Legolas answered yet again, his voice a barely audible whisper, his entire existence narrowed to the voice of his tormentor and the pain of the whip.
"You are strong, Legolas...I will freely admit that. Most would have crumbled before now. I knew somehow that you would be...I could tell it by the iron in your eyes when first we met at the borders. You will make a fine warrior someday. This lesson is always the hardest to learn...to know that, no matter the pain or indignity, to give the enemy information about someone you hold dear is to give him a weapon that can cut deeper than any sword and bring an Elf to his knees faster than any whip," Haldir whispered into the moaning Prince's ear, a trace of pride for his pupil in the March Warden's voice. "Now...another question..."
Anor set and rose, unperturbed at the events taking place in the talan at the edge of the great city of Caras Galadhon, and had just set for the third time since Legolas had awoken to find himself bound and naked and at Haldir's mercy, when the Woodland Elf finally reached the limits of his endurance and slumped against his bonds, unconscious once more.
Haldir tossed his lash aside, and pulled a sharp knife from his waist. He cut the hithlain bonds that held Legolas' ankles, then the ropes that held his arms above his head. The Prince fell, moaning even in his senseless state, but Haldir caught him easily in one arm. The knife was replaced, and Haldir picked the Woodland Elf up and carried him to a corner of the room laid with soft pillows and down-filled quilts. The March Warden laid Legolas on the pillows belly down and examined his back and buttocks with a practiced eye. Scores of welts crisscrossed the Elf's alabaster skin, each one a lesson hard learned, but none that would last more than a few days, a week at most. The Woodland Prince would leave the Golden Wood as unmarked as he had arrived. Haldir busied himself applying a soothing ointment to the angry red welts, his fingers gentle, his touch light. Even so, the Prince moaned softly under his ministrations, the pain reaching him even where he had slipped into the depths of unconsciousness.
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For two days, Haldir tended Legolas, applying and reapplying the salve to his back, buttocks, and thighs, giving the Prince small sips of water when he regained consciousness long enough to take it, feeding him bits of lembas bread when Haldir was certain the Prince's stomach would tolerate them. Near dusk of the second day, Legolas' eyelids fluttered open and he tried to rise, wincing at his stiff and sore back.
"Nay, Legolas, do not rise. Lay and be still youngling, rest is the best healer," Haldir said softly, resting a gentle hand against the smooth skin of the Prince's chest.
Legolas shot him a black look full of hate and mistrust. "Why should you be concerned for my well-being? You are the one responsible for my pain!" he hissed, narrowing his bright blue eyes at Haldir.
Haldir smiled sadly, the edges of his lips curling upward. "Yes, I know...I am responsible. Ever the same is the response from one so instructed," he answered. "It is never until many years later, after their eyes have been hollowed by the sight of too many deaths on the battlefield, their hands bloodied and their souls burdened by the passing of so many of their brethren, do they understand the value of their training." He shrugged, although his eyes remained wistful. "None of you ever understand that this is not a task I enjoy performing...it is my duty. My responsibility...and it weighs heavily on my soul. Your hurts will heal quickly, Legolas...they are nearly healed already. Mine will sting my heart for the rest of my life."
Legolas' eyes widened at Haldir's confession, for although he didn't want to believe him, he could hear the honesty in the older Elf's voice. A tiny frown creased his otherwise smooth brow as he listened to the Galadhrim.
Almost as if talking to himself and no longer aware that Legolas listened avidly, Haldir continued, his voice not much above a whisper, "Do you know what it is like? Giving pain? There have been those who have enjoyed it...but I have never found joy in my work. It is only because of my duty, and because of the knowledge that one day I may have saved your life or the lives of those dear to you that I continue. I felt each lash along with you, Legolas, and I will continue to feel them long after they have faded to a distant memory for you." He shook his head, his long silver hair swaying, as if to rid himself of his train of thought. "Roll to your stomach, Legolas...I must tend to your back again."
Obediently, Legolas flipped to his stomach, feeling Haldir's gentle hands applying a cooling salve to his back and buttocks. Haldir's soft words had cut through his anger and confused him...he suddenly did not sound like the monster Legolas had been certain he was.
Again, Haldir picked up the thread of his thoughts, speaking in a voice so low that Legolas could barely hear him. "They fear me...the little ones. Parents tell their elflings of me and my lash to frighten them into behaving themselves. When our paths cross they run from me, and perhaps it is better that way. I dare not risk forming relationships with any, only to find them in this room someday. Older elves avoid me, either from fear of what they know is to come, or because of the memory of the lash. I have comrades-in-arms, but true friendship is gift withheld from me. Even my own brothers avoid me when possible, although they were both trained by Lord Amroth. My constant companion is loneliness, and she is a bitter mistress. There are times when I beg Mandos to grant me a boon and take me to the Halls. It comforts me, the thought of being cradled in the darkness, where the memories of my life and deeds will fade. I know in my heart that I would be content to stay there forever, for I fear that Aman holds no promise of peace for me." Realizing at last that he had been confessing his most deeply harbored secrets to an Elf whose back he had beaten relentlessly not two days before, Haldir flushed scarlet, his hands leaving Legolas' back as they finished applying the ointment and he abruptly rose to his feet. "I have things to attend to, Legolas...rest now...I shall return shortly," he said in short, clipped tones.
Legolas turned his head to watch the warden leave the room, closing the door softly behind him. His back still burned with the remnants of his lessons, and yet he surprisingly found that his hate for the Galadhrim had faded first into an intense dislike, and then, shockingly, had become tempered with sympathy for the Elf who lived such a lonely life because of his sworn duty to his Lord.
"Why the lash?" Legolas wondered silently, reaching an arm around to lightly touch the fading welts on his backside and lower back. "Why not simply a lecture?" He thought about his life before arriving in Caras Galadhon with a brutal honesty that he had not employed before and remembered incidents of prideful arrogance, his fair face wincing at the memories. He had been arrogant. He had been petulant. He had used his birthright to get his way too often, he now realized, and began to see the wisdom in his father's decision to send him here.
It was true that Legolas had not yet seen battle. He was proficient with the bow - his teachers had told his father that he showed promise of becoming a master someday - and was equally at ease with the twin fighting knives of the Woodland Elves...but was he as proficient in following orders? Legolas took a long, hard look at his life and past deeds and reluctantly, but truthfully, had to admit to himself that he was not. His habit was to second guess his instructors - he had even done so to his father and King more times than he wished to admit - and while on rare occasions he was proven correct, more ofttimes he was wrong. Would that habit lead to his death or the death of a comrade on the battlefield? He realized now that it was quite likely. Thranduil had been justified in sending him here for the lash had opened his eyes to his failings...failings that Legolas knew now he would never repeat.
His thoughts wandered back to Haldir. Tending to him did not seem part of Haldir's responsibility, Legolas thought, and he wondered why he did it...did the great city of Caras Galadhon not have healers? They must...and yet it was his taskmaster's gentle fingers that had soothed the ache in Legolas' flesh. Why? Surely the warden with his...unique...talents would serve better elsewhere.
Legolas better understood now the importance of the instruction, and although he still did not fully agree with the methods employed he could not fault the warden's care. Truthfully, the pain in his back was no more than an irritation now, he knew that in another day or so it would be gone completely, just as Haldir had said. What Legolas knew would not leave him was the memory of a sad, lonely Elf whose lot in life was to deal pain and suffer isolation.
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"I am a fool," Haldir thought as walked through the cool dimness of the forest in the fading light. In truth, he had no errands to run...nothing pressing to which to attend. He had simply become aware of what he had been saying, and to whom he had been saying it. Haldir had left only to prevent himself from further embarrassment in front of the Prince of the Woodland Realm. "What could have possessed me to loose my tongue in such a manner while in his presence? I have spoken of such things to no one...what drew them now from my mouth to his ears? I am indeed a fool!" he berated himself, stopping and leaning against the smooth bark of one of the silver and gold mellyrn that lent the forest its name. His grey eyes lifted toward the talan that lay nestled in the upper limbs of a giant mallorn and secluded at the outskirts of the city, where the Prince lay, swaddled in his nest of pillows and blankets, covered in the salve Haldir had applied to ease his pain. The pain Haldir had caused him. The thought made Haldir wince, even though Legolas was only the last in a long line of trainees whom it had fallen to Haldir to instruct.
The trouble, Haldir mused, trying to be perfectly honest with himself, was that Legolas Thranduillion was perhaps the most beautiful creature Haldir had ever seen. More fair than any Elf Haldir had ever before encountered in all his long years, the Prince's hair was flaxen silk, his skin as smooth as white marble. It seemed that his eyes were the only spot of color on his entire body, but they overwhelmed, like two brilliant sapphires set in mithril. So well-formed were each of his limbs, his back so beautifully rippled with muscle, his bottom so firm and rounded, that Haldir had been loathe to lay the lash to him. In the end, as always, Haldir's honor, his duty and his pledge to his Lord had held sway, but the warden had truly felt each striking blow as if it had been his own flesh that the lash had scored.
It was why Haldir had kept the Prince with him, rather than spiriting him away to the healers when the instruction had been complete. He trusted no one to tend Legolas' wounds but himself...he had faith only in his own hands' ability to make certain that no evidence would remain. Haldir would not tolerate the tiniest scar, the most miniscule blemish created by his lash to remain on that perfect body. This much he would give the Prince in restitution for having had been the one to initiate him into warrior life. Sighing, he once again climbed the stairs that led to the talan so that he might see to his self-appointed charge.
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Legolas was lying on his stomach, one arm tucked under his head, his platinum hair tossed to one side, a shimmering white curtain against the deep red of his pillow. He seemed in reverie, his eyes unfocussed, his breathing deep and even. Haldir knelt, reaching out to gingerly touch the satiny skin of Legolas' back, testing whether the salve had dried and if more were needed when Legolas suddenly rolled over, and Haldir found himself staring spellbound into the Prince's luminous blue eyes.
Unable to move, scarcely able to breathe, Haldir was frozen as Legolas' hand reached up and gently touched the warden's cheek. "I would rather feel the pain of the lash all the rest of my days than live in loneliness...you are stronger than any Elf I have ever met, warden," Legolas whispered. He craned his neck up and placed a soft kiss on Haldir's lips, then drew back again, looking deeply into the warden's eyes for his response.
Haldir remained immobile, held in place by the feather-soft touch of Legolas' lips upon his own. "Why?" he whispered, his eyes holding a mix of shock and confusion, although Legolas' kiss had ignited a fire in his loins. He had expected hate...perhaps even violence, but not this. Not a kiss...never had this happened to him before. "I...hurt you...gave you pain..."
"You did what you were duty-bound to do, Haldir," the Prince replied. "I understand that now, and the need for it...I know also that you took care of me afterwards, eased my pain, when you could have simply bundled me off to the healers and been done with me. For that, I am grateful..."
"Gratitude has its place, Legolas Thranduillion...but its place is not here. You owe me nothing."
"I owe you my respect, and it is yours," he replied, lifting long elegant fingers to push back a hank of Haldir's silver hair behind his ear, before cupping Haldir's cheek once more. A rosy blush colored Legolas' cheeks and he bit his lower lip for a moment. "Do you want me, Haldir o Lothlorien?" he asked, earnestly.
"Why do you do this, Legolas? You owe me nothing, least of all...this..." Haldir repeated, covering Legolas' hand with his own, taking it gently from his cheek, although both his body and spirit begged for it to remain.
"I do this because I want to...because you are so alone..."
"I have spent centuries alone...it is a habit that I have long become accustomed to and it suits me," Haldir growled, his spine stiffening with pride, not wishing to admit again to his crushing loneliness, not to this pale, lovely creature who was breaching his defenses with his soft entreaties.
"Then I do it for myself, Haldir...do this for me," Legolas pleaded, wanting to give comfort to this proud, beautiful Elf, wanting even more for Haldir to comfort him, to reassure him of his worth. He rose to his knees and recaptured Haldir's lips. This time, Haldir responded, the roar of the fire in his loins drowning out the voice of reason in his head. Bent at the waist to reach the kneeling Prince, his fingers slid through the silken strands of Legolas' hair, holding the Prince's head immobile as he crushed his lips to Legolas' in return. It had been so long since Haldir had allowed himself such an indulgence...and to have Legolas' sweet, soft lips against his, this perfect Elf, was nearly more than Haldir could bear.
Haldir's tongue slid easily past Legolas' lips, swirling over and under the Prince's own tongue as it explored the wet, hot cavern of Legolas' mouth. His taste was sweeter than honey, more heady than any wine and Haldir suddenly could not get enough of it. He felt Legolas' fingers pulling at his jerkin, popping as many of the closures as he managed to open, and slipped it from his shoulders.
Legolas allowed his hands to move over the smooth skin of the warden's chest - broad, pale, and strong under his fingers. The Prince's back arched, his pain forgotten in the face of the tide of desire that arose within him, the need to be touched overpowering the lingering effects of the lash. He was rewarded as Haldir's fingers slipped over his shoulders, kneading the hard muscles with gentle fingers. The Prince's own fingers slipped lower, dancing across the rippling muscles of Haldir's flat belly to the ties that held the warden's leggings closed. They brushed against the telltale bulge that strained at the fabric, evidence of the warden's desire, before ripping at the laces and freeing it to the cool air of the talan.
Haldir moaned into Legolas' mouth as the Woodland Elf's hand touched his erection and wrapped slender fingers around its turgid length. He quickly kicked off his boots and leggings, baring himself before the Prince, struggling to maintain control of himself - to keep breathing. He lost the struggle and his breath caught and held in his chest when Legolas suddenly pulled away from Haldir's kiss and began to trail soft, wet kisses of his own down the length of Haldir's torso, hovering over the seeping head of Haldir's member. Legolas' mouth was so close that Haldir could feel the Prince's warm breath ghost across the head of his erection, wringing another moan from the warden's lips.
Legolas tightened his fingers around Haldir's substantial length before flicking out his tongue and lapping at the pearly drop of moisture that had gathered at its head. The warden's moan spurred him on, telling him that this was what Haldir wanted, and he eagerly acquiesced. His lips closed over Haldir's organ, hungrily sucking at the hardened flesh as his fingers slid from the base to the tip and back again. Legolas could feel Haldir's hands threading themselves through his hair, pulling his head down further over the warden's heated member as Haldir's hips thrust upward, sliding his burning length as far as it would go down the Prince's throat. Legolas moaned around Haldir's length, his hand leaving the velvet sheath of Haldir's member to travel with its mate around the warden's hips and cup his firm cheeks, helping him thrust deeply into the Prince's mouth.
Legolas felt the warden's buttocks begin to tighten, and the growl deep within Haldir's chest told the Prince that the warden's release was fast approaching...an ending that Legolas found intolerable. His own organ wept against his belly, and his body cried out for fulfillment as well. Releasing Haldir's organ from his mouth, he pushed away, much to the warden's obvious displeasure, sliding over on the pillows and pulling Haldir down onto the floor with him. His keen eyes spotted the bowl of salve that Haldir had used on Legolas' back to ease his pain...now the salve would serve yet another purpose. Dipping his fingers into the ointment, Legolas' eyes rolled back in his head and his tongue peeked out from between his lips as the Woodland Elf reached behind himself and began to prepare his own opening. Sliding first one finger, then two into his own tight channel, he looked into Haldir's eyes, willing the warden to understand what it was that the Prince wanted.
Haldir's eyes opened wide and his breath hitched in his chest as he watched the Prince prepare himself. As Legolas straddled Haldir's hips, the warden bit his lip, striving to allow Legolas to take this at his own pace for if it were left to the warden, Haldir would likely ram himself to the hilt between the pale, alabaster cheeks of the Woodland Elf.
Legolas slowly lowered himself onto Haldir's iron erection, allowing the warden's shaft to penetrate him inch by inch, moaning softly, until finally the warden was sheathed fully within Legolas' tight channel. Panting, Legolas remained still, giving his body a moment to adjust to the girth that filled him. Slowly, he began to move his hips, sliding himself up and down on the prodigious length that impaled him. He bent down over the warden's chest, his platinum hair falling in a silken sheet to cover Haldir's body as the Prince's lips found the warden's own again.
Haldir's hands cupped Legolas' firm, rounded buttocks in their palms as the warden reached the limits of his tolerance and took control of their coupling. The red-hot, tight channel that squeezed his organ was quickly driving the warden from his senses, as was the soft, warm tongue that plundered his mouth. Thrusting upwards, angling himself, he allowed his member to hit the sweet bundle of nerves buried deep within the Prince's body, drawing a cry of pleasure from Legolas. Again and again he hit it, watching the beautiful face of the Woodland Elf as rapture engulfed it.
Legolas found himself helpless against the tide of pleasure that Haldir drew from him and, wrapping his hand around his own throbbing erection, he stroked himself frantically, spilling himself against the warden's taut abdomen, his seed spurting in thick white ribbons against the ivory flesh. His cry filled the talan, soon joined by Haldir's own as the warden at last found his release, filling Legolas' channel with his own white-hot seed.
Collapsing against Haldir's chest, the warden's arms gently hugged the Prince to him, mindful of the still-healing welts on Legolas' back. Nuzzling Haldir's neck, Legolas found that words escaped him and that the best he could do was to make soft, murmuring sounds against the soft flesh of Haldir's throat.
As Haldir's member softened and slid from Legolas' body, their connection broken, Haldir whispered his thanks into the Woodland Prince's ear. "Legolas...beautiful, strong Legolas...thank you for this gift," he breathed, tears forming in his eyes. "I am not worthy of your attentions, but never will I forget this...or you."
"Nay, Haldir...it is I who is not worthy. I was an elfling when I arrived, full of unearned pride and arrogance, but you have seen me through to adulthood. I will be a better warrior, better able to serve my King and his people...I will be a better Elf for your attentions, and forever I will be grateful," Legolas replied softly, his lips moving against the flesh of Haldir's throat.
Neither was inclined to move and, basking in the glow of their coupling, they each slipped into reverie while in the other's embrace.
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Fate would have them meet again many centuries later as a Fellowship of Nine sought refuge beneath the sheltering limbs of the mellyrn in the heart of Elvendom. Neither would make mention of their prior encounter, though both thought of it. Haldir contented himself with the sight of the Woodland Prince, grown to a warrior to be reckoned with and even more beautiful in his maturity than he had been as a younger Elf.
For his part, Legolas' back twitched slightly at the memory of Haldir's lash, and his groin tightened noticeably as the memory was quickly replaced by that of their lovemaking. He was pleased to see that Haldir had been made March Warden and no longer lived in loneliness, the respect of his wardens for their leader obvious to the Woodland Elf's eyes.
The fate of Arda was at stake, Sauron's blanket of evil spreading to smother the life from the world, eating at both of their hearts, but this was not the time nor circumstance to comfort one another. Giving each other a small, memory-filled smile, the two elves attended to their own responsibilities, each knowing in his heart that they would meet one day yet again on the blessed shores of Aman, and that they would have each other to comfort them unto the Rending of the World.
The End
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