Is This Really You?

Summary: Glorfindel and Legolas meet, misunderstand each other only to meet again and attempt to understand.

Part One � The Beginning�

Legolas attempted, albeit unsuccessfully, to stifle the yawn that quivered on his lips.� The message had been that the king requests his presence.� Both messenger and prince knew that it was more than a mere request that could be refused at Legolas� wish.� So he stood beside his father to welcome the delegation from Imladris with no enthusiasm for such a formal display.� To his young mind his time would be better spent in practice with his new gift of fighting knives.�

Another yawn was more unsuccessfully contained, drawing a sharp look from Thranduil.� None to soon the delegation was announced with much fanfare.� Legolas ceased his study of the windows in time to watch the Captain of Imladris stride into the hall.� �

Perhaps it was the will of the Valar, perhaps just a coincidence, but whatever chance it was, it was breathtaking.� The shaft of brilliant light caught the golden hair of the captain, glistening on the buckle that held his cloak.� His name was unknown to Legolas and yet he felt a quickening of his heart at the sight, he was not the only elf present to be so captivated, it being only practiced diplomacy that had others of Thranduil�s court keep their silence.�

Approaching the king, the captain bowed in respect, Thranduil stepping forward in greeting.�

�Glorfindel of Rivendell, your presence honours us,� Thranduil acknowledged formally.�

�My Lord Elrond extents his respects to you,� the velvet voice intoned.�

Thranduil nodded, then indicated the young prince beside him.�

�I present my son Legolas.��

Glorfindel bowed his head in greeting, Legolas just managing to hold the astute gaze.�

�It is a hope that we become acquainted during my stay,� the lilting voice addressed him.�

Unable to find his own voice, Legolas nodded, saved from further scrutiny by his father calling for the chief advisor to accompany the delegation to their rooms.� Legolas was too intent on the retreating golden haired figure to hear any of the conversation of those around him.�

Titles and past glories meant very little to Glorfindel.� What mattered most was the successful completion of the missions assigned to him by his lord and the safety of his new homeland.� He could not and would not abide those who sought to engage him on stories of long ago, such memories were painful still, such recollections of the fall of the city and his part in it were personal and intimate.� It was understood by those who had lived long and in deference to the deeds of the captain, such things were rarely spoken of.� He was Glorfindel, Captain of Imladris, nothing more or less, and that was enough for him.� �

Alone in the room given, Glorfindel cast off his cloak letting it fall to the floor for now.� He was weary and road soiled, grateful for the forethought of those who had prepared the rooms that a steaming bath was ready for him.� Already its heady scents called to him as he stripped off the remainder of his clothing, the setting out of his duties could wait.�

Sinking into the water, Glorfindel lay back and closed his eyes with a sigh.� The journey had served a double purpose, it had allowed the Imladris elves to clear some of the paths between the two realms and it had brought them to offer their services to Thranduil.� �

The water had cooled a little by the time Glorfindel recovered from his musings.� He had heard the discrete noises from the other room which meant that his travel worn clothes had been taken to be cleaned and more towels and oils had been brought for when he next wished to bathe.� Nothing of his personal belongings would have been touched so he would be able to arrange them into the cupboards in the room to suit himself.� They would be residing among Thranduil�s people for no little time, but Glorfindel had brought little in the way of belongings, the clothes were functional to their purpose, few intimate items beyond his favourite soaps and brushes.� His pride were his weapons that had been carefully retrieved and placed on the bed during his undressing.� �

With a robe tied loosely around his waist Glorfindel emerged from the bathing chamber.� He took a longer look around the room he had been given.� It was warmly furnished but not overly so, slightly reminiscent of his rooms in Imladris he acknowledged with a smile.� Someone had obviously taken careful note of his needs.� The bed was larger than his own, and that brought a further smile to his lips.� In that whoever had arranged the room had been misguided to the space he needed to sleep.� It had been many a year since he had required such a bed.�

Thranduil had been considerate of their travelling also organising a simple meal to be delivered to the rooms of the guests.� There would be a formal welcome later when all had been refreshed.� Glorfindel welcomed the chance to spend time alone after being on the road in company of others so long.� Not that he begrudged their company, it was that he valued his time alone also and that was hard to achieve on the road.� So he stretched out on the bed and opened his journal to write.�

Legolas had asked permission to be dismissed once the Imladris elves had departed.� There was a lingering memory of the captain that he could not completely shake as he eyed the target in the distance.� One or two arrows had gone uncharacteristically astray before he had managed to focus with more accuracy.� It had not gone as unnoticed as he would have liked.� �

�Something distracts you,� a voice behind him sounded.�

The bow master had known him since birth, had fashioned his first bow, there was little that escaped his keen eyes.�

Legolas shook his head nonetheless.� �It has been some time since I took up the bow,� he offered.�

The master laughed.� ��Tis only been hours, my prince.�� �

However he seemed satisfied with the reason and as Legolas� next several arrows unerringly hit their target, he surmised that it had been a momentary lapse only.� �

As the young prince walked back to his rooms in the dimming light he wondered what the Imladris elves would be doing this night, in particular what their captain would be doing.� He took a simple meal of fruits and bread from the kitchen to his room, nibbling on it all absently.�� It was a day he would remember, a moment he would replay many times.�� He had met one who inspired emotions within him that no other had.� �

It was to be the following evening, amid the banquet that he next spied the captain as Thranduil called his son to him.� By his father�s side was the Imladris elf wearing less adornments than any around him, simple clothing of tunic and leggings that served to draw more attention in that simplicity.� �

�Glorfindel has consented to spend some time with you on your sword play,� Thranduil announced.�

Legolas looked from father to guest, wondering what Glorfindel thought of him in this second instance where he found himself unable to speak.� �

�It will be an honour my lord,� Glorfindel acknowledged, shaking Legolas once more with the dulcet tones of his voice.�

Thranduil looked on indulgently. In Legolas� reactions he was reminded of himself when confronted long ago with a great warrior and understood the signs of awe.� He hoped for a gentle outcome, watching his son eye the glorious warrior as Glorfindel walked away to stand with his companions.�
�

The swords clashed, the echo of their coming together reverberating through the glade where they practiced.� For weeks they had been found in this place, for many hours they would move as they did now.�� Watching each step made in the grass, studying each look, remembering each thrust.� With one sudden lunge Legolas was unbalanced, falling to the ground, rolling and on his feet before Glorfindel could fix his sword at his throat.� Raising his sword in salute, the Imladris elf called a halt.� He clasped the young elf on the back, smiling at his charge.� �

�There will soon be little more I can teach you.��

Legolas laughed.� �I am sure there will always be more that you can show me.�� Though he tried to keep the words light hearted, his eyes betrayed more than he imagined to one who knew.�

�Perhaps,� Glorfindel replied quietly causing Legolas to look sharply to him, an expression so fleeting passed across his features that Legolas frowned, Glorfindel staring into the distance, seemingly not noticing him.�� But the moment passed and Glorfindel was smiling once more as they moved to seek refreshment, his arm slipping from Legolas� shoulder as they walked.�

Legolas lay in his bed that night and thought of the day with Glorfindel.� This in itself was not unusual for the young elf: often it was to recall the movements taught, the position of head, hands and feet.� More often it was to recall the touch of hands as a stance was demonstrated, the warmth of the breath that brushed passed him as the words of command where given, the flash of gold as the braided hair caught the sun, the ripple of muscle that came with each swing of a sword.� What was different this night was Glorfindel himself.�� His mentor had never been anything but steadfast and focused, seemingly immune to Legolas� youthful, fumbling attempts to garner his attention.� Yet this day, for that brief moment Glorfindel seemed less the stoic soldier and more an elf capable of giving something of himself.� Legolas drifted to sleep and dreamed.�

Glorfindel excused himself from the next day�s practice, sighting some other task that would occupy him.� He could not miss the disappointment in Legolas who hung his head but did not further protest.� The Imladris elf was perplexed by his reaction to the prince.� There were no end of desirable elves who sought his company, Glorfindel having no trouble gently turning them aside, but Legolas, young, untried, lacking the guile of experience had captivated him in no small way.�� Legolas who haunted his dreams with visions that did not belong there.� Legolas who had him lie on his bed and seek lonely comfort.� Legolas, the beautiful prince who sought more from him than the skills he could learn as the master of a sword.�

Missing target after target, Legolas throw down the bow in frustration.� All around him recognised his agitation, the more knowing guessing its cause.� �

�It would be best if you sought other distractions,� the bow master suggested softly.�

Legolas nodded, he was doing little good here in his attempts to stave his discontent.� Wandering, it was chance that he came upon the object of his current distress.� Glorfindel sat on the stone bench, his gaze fixed on the small carving he turned over and over in his hands.� As Legolas watched he recognised the statue as one he had given the older elf soon after they had begun their sparring.� Was this Glorfindel�s pressing task? �

Stepping forward, the crunch of stone underfoot alerted Glorfindel to his presence.� �

�Your business is concluded?� Legolas asked, a hint of irritation still in his voice.�

Glorfindel nodded, then shook his head, undecided.� �No, it is not�.it is not.��

Legolas came to sit beside him as Glorfindel went back to the regard of the figure.� They sat in silence, Legolas wondering if it were to him to ask further what concerned his companion.� �

Slowly Glorfindel set aside the carving, stopping for a moment before turning to Legolas.� The hands that had held the gift now held the giver, palms cupping the comely face.� He regarded Legolas so intently that the young elf was unnerved by the gaze, but held it nonetheless.� The movement was slight, the kiss a mere brush of lips.� Legolas gasped, leaning forward, seeking more.� Glorfindel obliged, fingers across delicate ears, holding the back of Legolas� head, tongue pressing at the half parted lips until they gave way and allowed entry.� Legolas� hands clasped behind Glorfindel�s back, bringing him closer.� �

�I��.,� Glorfindel started as a fingertip traced along the kiss tinged mouth.� �

Legolas took hold of the hand pressing it to his lips before letting it drop, initiating another passioned kiss that belied his innocence.�

It was shyly that they parted, looking to each other. The next step would have been clear to Glorfindel had it not been for Legolas� rank and youth.� It was left to Legolas to take Glorfindel by the hand and lead him to his rooms.� �

Once there they removed their clothing, Legolas standing, the colour in his cheeks rising.� Glorfindel stepped forward, lifting the prince�s lips to his.� The kiss was ladened with promise as Glorfindel trailed his mouth down the slender neck, biting softly at the pale shoulder.� Legolas was still, eyes closed, the gasp barely audible, feeling with every fibre of his body.� Glorfindel placed his hands on the slight hips, kneeling as he suckled at each tightening nipple, against his stomach he felt the hardening flesh.� Legolas looked down as the smooth tongue first touched him.� He stared as he watched Glorfindel moisten the length of his erection, sliding his tongue across the tip, stared entranced as Glorfindel slowly let the organ slip into his mouth.� There his erection found a home cradled in the curled tongue, nudging the back of Glorfindel�s relaxed throat.� �

As Glorfindel sucked tenderly, Legolas steadied himself by gripping the strong arms that held him.� Nothing had prepared him for this, nothing was like it.� The mouth was relentless, teasing by lips being smoothed to the tip, Legolas heady as he was once more engulfed.� He moaned, breathed harshly, felt his body shudder as it had never done under his own hand.� Glorfindel looked into brilliant blue eyes as the fingers that held to his arms tightened their grip.� Nodding slowly his consent, Legolas� passion was given full rein.� He called out words that made little sense, cried out the name of the one who held him so enthralled, spilled into the willing mouth.� �

Once it was finished Glorfindel rose to place his arms around a shaking youngling.� The tears shed were of joy and rapture.� Ignoring his own state, Glorfindel carried Legolas to the bed and lay next to him, cradling his head in his arms as he slept.� �

Stroking the damp locks that drifted over his chest, touching the flushed cheeks, Glorfindel wondered what would become of this, this love that he had tried to resist, wondered why his heart, so unneeding in the past, had set its path on this one.� It was much more than the attraction of one so untouched, it was what he had not expected when he had first appraised the elf, but was not surprised by it.� �

Legolas woke to find Glorfindel watching him.� He reached to touch a cheek with his hand.� �I thought it a dream, or that you would be gone before the morn.��

�Neither dear one,� Glorfindel smiled, �neither.��

It was a rare occurrence that the two were apart, though often their nights ended at Legolas� door with a kiss that both found hard to free themselves from.� Though Legolas was hardly an elfling, indeed he was passed what many would consider of age, Glorfindel was cautious in his dealings, never asking more than he thought was best for them both.� Legolas still had much to experience before he could be sure of this.� It was after all his first love, and though Glorfindel was the more sure, he would not impose his thoughts.� �
�

Legolas was not certain what brought him to the small library kept by his father, nor what it was that caused him to take a volume from the shelf.� The leather bound book had been often read at one time such was the worn nature of the cover.� Sitting down at one of the tables near a window, Legolas opened the tome and began to read.� The tales of old had been painstakingly written in a precise hand, recounting in detail battles and wars.� As he turned one page he came to the verses that spoke of Gondolin.�� Legolas had heard of the city in hushed whispers but knew little more of the mighty city kingdom.� Engrossed he read, his heart breaking at the tales of heroes who fought in vain.� There was horror at the account of Ecthelion and the terror of the Balrog.� Then one name loomed above all else.� The lieutenant of Turgon, chief of the House of the Golden Flower, comrade of Ecthelion who suffered the same fate at the same heroic deed.� Fought and killed a Balrog and by his sacrifice enabled the children of Turgon to flee the city unharmed.� The one who blessed by Mandos was reborn, given leave by the Valar to aid in the alliance against Sauron.�� �

Glorfindel.� Hero of Gondolin, Balrog slayer, Lord of his House.� Glorfindel.� The Captain of Imladris, tutor, mentor, lover.� Glorfindel.� Furtive, equivocative.�

Legolas glared at the book willing the words to change, blinking back the tears.� In all the confidences they had shared, Glorfindel had not seen fit to tell him this.� Legolas felt duped, anger overseeing reason.� With book in hand he sought out the one he supposed had unrightfully withheld his true person from him.�

�Deceiver,� Legolas screamed.�

The smile on Glorfindel�s lips faded.� The book was cast across the table, Glorfindel noting its title and thus realising the cause of Legolas� rage.�

�Legolas,� Glorfindel began, his voice soft, arm extended seeking to calm the prince, �permit me to �.��

Legolas glared.� �Explain?� he hissed, �and what would you say, more lies?��

�I have not lied,� Glorfindel whispered.� Guilt by omission perhaps, but there had been no lies.�

�You are the one they speak of?�� Legolas asked hoping for a denial but found none in Glorfindel�s shake of his head.� �You are a hero, returned by the will of the Valar for a second life, and you sought not to tell me?� You think so little of me that you could not reveal your true self to me?��

�You know my true self, Legolas, I have not hidden that from you.�� Glorfindel�s words were lost as Legolas exited the room, unwilling to hear any more.�

Faith shattered, Legolas fled to his rooms, and with door locked against the world, wept.� He should glory in his lover�s past, but his thoughts could not overcome the deceit he felt he had suffered.� He had shared his hopes, dreams and plans, yet he had not been entrusted with the greater part of his lover�s life.� Could he now believe in the plans they had made?� More considered thought would have guided him to seek an explanation, but Legolas was not of such a mind.� He was betrayed and nothing could shake that thought.�

Glorfindel reasoned that time would heal the rift, but as time ran close to ending, Legolas was as indifferent to him as he had been hostile.� When the time came, the party from Imladris departed, Glorfindel left without farewell.�
�

������������****************************************�
�

Part Two � Meetings�

Glorfindel rode hard, Asfaloth understanding the urgency of their flight.� The hobbit was delivered into the arms of the only one who could aid him.� Glorfindel counted his task well done and thus prepared to again to do what was required of him in this new looming danger.�

He did not need to see the elf from Mirkwood arrive to be aware of his presence.� It had been many years since he had last glimpsed the prince standing high on the hill watching him leave.� Many times he had regretted not turning back to say his farewells, many times since on the borders of the once Green Wood he had lingered but refrained from entering.� �

Legolas knew it was beyond hope to think Glorfindel would not be present.� In the years that had followed the golden haired warrior�s departure Legolas had thought often of him, almost flew after him that fateful day, almost journeyed to Imladris, almost wrote.� Almost did many things, but never seared the memory from his thoughts.� That the fault lie with Glorfindel had not been fully dispelled, though with the increased wisdom of age, he knew he had not acted honourably, yet he did not understand what had compelled Glorfindel to not reveal his past, to have it unspoken even among those who knew.� And this above all else had stayed his hand and had him turn from Imladris until fate decreed he should ride.� There were others more skilled he had argued though both father and son knew the falsehood of that.� In the years since Glorfindel�s departure Legolas had garnered a reputation with bow that few could match, his swordplay less revered in the light of his prowess, but no less a talent.� He had been taught by one whose skills reined supreme, and Legolas had not forgotten.�

As he rode into the courtyard Legolas dismounted in awe of the realm called Imladris.� To one grown beside the darkness, this was close to what he imagined the Blessed Lands to be.� Even in the twilight of years, there was a majesty to the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond that Legolas felt permeating the stone.� Unbidden he looked about him as a hunter might, seeing the detail of the buildings, the ancient carvings that were unique to the First Born, noting the movements of the inhabitants, surveying their faces, searching for just one.�

The curtain parted, the slight movement noticed only by the elves.� Legolas instinctively looked up, and saw.�� He heard nothing of the sounds around him, there was nothing else but the figure at the window.� He had not changed, Legolas had not expected him to, but he was unprepared for the beauty of having him so near, unprepared for the effect it had on his being.� It stalled his heart, stole his breath.� �

�Glorfindel,� he murmured as the curtain was let go and the vision disappeared from sight.� �

Legolas leaned heavily against the horse as he reorientated himself to the world.� It should not have been so unexpected, so powerful.� It should not have been like this.� Legolas breathed deeply, gathering his thoughts, determined not to be taken by surprise again.� Guided to his rooms, Legolas lay on the bed without bothering to undress, focusing on what had brought him to Imladris and not on who resided there.�

The next days were spent in consultation with those who had ridden with him, older more experienced voices who advised him on the likely manner of the council Elrond had called.� Legolas watched the arrival of the others.� Dwarves and men, all drawn to this place of sanctuary to decide what must be done.� Legolas thought on the possibilities, still awed by the knowledge that the Ring had been found.�

Leaning from his open window he spied what he had no wish to see.� As the two moved into the centre of the courtyard, Legolas wanted to avert his eyes, to turn away.� Instead he moved into the shadows to watch.� He stood rigid, his fists clenched by his side.� Without just cause his stomach tightened as the ache became physical.� He had no news of any lovers Glorfindel had taken since their parting, but that mattered little, envoys between the two realms hardly carried such knowledge as a priority, particularly as it seemed to involve the son of the lord.� �

Glorfindel embraced the elder of the his lord�s sons warmly, a kiss to his lips as they departed from each other, whispered words that brought a smile to Glorfindel that Legolas well remembered when it was directed to him.� A smile that Legolas had thought was only for him, a symbol of their love, now shined for another.� �

The rage was contained within, the cool demeanour toward him puzzled Elladan, as did the lingering of the prince with his averted gaze when Glorfindel was present.� Legolas watched them, certain, seeking to justify this perceived slight against him, noting each fond embrace, each gentle touch.� In this he had to admit to himself that the feelings he had for the Imladris� captain were far from diminished.� But there were more important concerns than the pain in his heart as it pondered lost love, more to be faced than the lover of the one on whom that pain was centred.� �

Standing at the balcony, awaiting the call to the council, Legolas watched again the events in the courtyard.� He watched as Elladan flew down the steps to pull the latest arrival from his horse as it had barely come to a halt.� The younger of Lord Elrond�s sons, twin to Elladan.� He heard the relieved laughter as they embraced, sighted Glorfindel smile indulgently upon them, much like a proud father would had he been present, as they kissed for a long moment, laughed and kissed once more.� Their arms around each other in a way that could only indicate intimacy, they walked up the steps, Elladan�s head resting on his brother�s shoulder.� Glorfindel looked after them, still smiling, then turned to where Legolas stood.� His smile faded as he lowered his gaze and walked away from his former love.� Legolas followed the retreating figure with sad eyes, torn between needing that which his heart yearned for and the anger that still tormented his soul.� As so long ago, the anger and pride won and he too turned to seek the comfort of his room.�

There was pride also in Glorfindel�s step.� He fought against the desire to turn and at least cast a glance to the prince, instead he made his way to the stables, leading Asfaloth out into the yard before mounting and riding to the river.� Elladan had taught him about the water, told him about the rainbows.� It had once been his place of retreat when the pretence of regarding Elrohir as only a brother had driven him to despair.� In the rushing water and the sparkling droplets he had found peace.� Glorfindel knew the twins still came to the river, in far different circumstances now.� As he let Asfaloth roam free and he sat on the grassy bank, letting the happiness he felt for them permeate his thoughts.� They would not begrudge him being here, after all they were more occupied elsewhere.� �

Watching the swirling water with the dancing rainbows Glorfindel understood why this place had drawn Elladan.� The natural beauty that was Imladris was the most evident, but under that was something else that was not so easily defined.� It was a calling to the soul of an elf, a communication that soothed the troubled spirit.� And a troubled spirit he had.� For so long he had fought against his heart, at times thought the battle won until he had tried to take another to his bed, then he knew the futility of the hope.� In the end he had given up.� He had known that there was only one for him, had found him so unexpectedly and then lost him in a misjudgement that he had not even considered.� Casting off his clothes on a whim, he plunged into the cool water, swimming to the middle of the stream and for a while let the world turn and the water take him where it may, abandoned himself to the will of another force.� The moon had begun its rise in the velvet sky when he and Asfaloth returned.� The evening meal had been missed, few were about as he made his way to his chambers after taking care of his friend.� �

Candles had been lit and a tray from the kitchen had been placed on the table.� A small slip of paper lay under a deep red rose.� There were no words, only two identical intertwined letters that the twins had taken to using as their signature and symbol of their lives.� Glorfindel was grateful to them for this gesture.� Without the telling of it, they had known as ones who had suffered and saw the signs.� They had allowed him time alone, and taken it upon themselves to be by his side when he had needed an understanding hearing and means of distraction.� He in turn had been privileged to learn of their secrets and their own hopes.� Taking the tray to his bed, Glorfindel opened the book he had taken from the library, nibbling absently on the fruit as he turned the pages, letting the book fall from his hands as he let sleep overtake him.� When the sun rose next the world would be changed, even if most would have no hint of it.�

Glorfindel looked on from where he sat in mute horror.� The raised voices abhorrent to him as those assembled pressed their argument, unhearing of each other in the cacophony.� He shook his head ruefully on hearing the hobbit�s words, struck by the innocent simplicity as they were repeated.� He sensed the pride of Elrond as a foster son in turn stepped forward and closed his eyes at the cold chill that gripped his soul as Legolas too counted himself among the company.� The nine assembled, Glorfindel could only stare.� He would not gainsay his lord�s judgement, so offered a prayer to the Valar in its stead as Elrond proclaimed them a fellowship. � Glorfindel gazed openly at Legolas unnoticed, as Elrond spoke to them, then resolutely joined the twins to begin the planning.� They may not be part of the fellowship so formed, but theirs was an important part nonetheless and required a strategy for implementation, they needed to be prepared for success and failure.� War would be upon them either way.� �

Duty kept the Captain of Imladris and the Prince of Mirkwood from crossing paths in the days that followed.� It weighed increasingly on Glorfindel�s thoughts that Legolas would leave him this time as he had left Thranduil�s kingdom, with no words passing between them.� It was Elladan who gave voice to the worry and the counselling to not let the chance slip.� He recalled his own hesitation in confronting his brother, fearful of being parted from him for eternity with his confession, but far more fearful of losing Elrohir without having the chance to tell him.� Glorfindel, Elladan reasoned, had already felt the uncertainty of leaving things unsaid, could he spend his eternal life with the regret of not at last attempting reconciliation?�� Glorfindel decided not.� While he did not dare to hope the outcome would match that of Elladan�s, it would bring more resolution than the situation had so far rendered.�

Glorfindel sought out Legolas in the great hall.� As he approached the young elf, he saw him stiffen, unsure.� Begging the leave of those around him, Glorfindel asked for Legolas to join him in the gardens.� By the tall trees, in sight of the hall with its candles burning brightly, Glorfindel reached out and touched Legolas� cheek, looking to him with a fierce intensity.� Legolas gamefully met the gaze.�

�I would not have you leave without due apology,� Glorfindel whispered, his voice charged with emotion, � I am sorry for the hurt I caused you in these years past, I did not seek to� deceive you, and know this before you depart.� There was no falsehood in the love I held for you, no deceit in the love I still hold for you, no wish to mislead.� I wanted only for you to know who I am, not what I was.� I asked much from you to understand, you had a right to your anger, I should have trusted your love for me.�� �

Legolas was silent, what to say in reply a lump only in his throat.� In the silence Glorfindel placed a soft kiss on his lips, then hurried away and was lost in the darkness even to keen elven eyes, his courage undoubted in the face of any enemy deserting him in the face of love.� Legolas touched his burning lips, touched the wetness and realised he wept.� �I love you,� he murmured to the shadows.�

The fellowship departed the next day.� Glorfindel had ridden out in the early hours accompanied by the twins to see to the roads ahead.� There had been no resolution but he had stated his case, what Legolas would have replied a riddle perhaps never to be solved.� Nonetheless he wished him safe passage, along with those who travelled with him, praying the task would not take his life, asking for a further chance to prove his worth.�
�

������������***************************************�
�

Part Three � Understandings�

As Legolas stood on the rocky landscape and mourned the loss of the wizard, there came also an understanding that permeated within him.�

To face a Balrog was an act of pure courage wrought in the heat of battle, when there was no thought to the alternative, no credence given to the outcome.� Life was not lived like that, they were mere moments.� Glorfindel had not spoken of the moment because it was not what defined him.� Legolas understood what he could not so long ago.� Glorfindel had allowed him to know beyond the legend.� He did not want the hero to stand in the way of the elf, and now older and with more wisdom or so he hoped, Legolas could see what he had been gifted with.� To know the elf, to know Glorfindel as something other than what was portrayed in the books of old.� Glorfindel came to him with nothing more than the title of captain, Legolas had fallen in love with Glorfindel, not the slayer of a balrog nor the saviour of Tuor and that had been what Glorfindel had wanted from the beginning.� Not to be held in awe, not to be worshipped.� If only Legolas had come to this realisation an age ago, if only it had come without the heartache of loss.�

Hearts were heavy as the band made its sorrowful way to Golden Wood.� Though Aragorn welcomed the sight of the first trees, his companions approached with intrepidation.� The hobbits for they knew nothing of the land they were to enter, the dwarf because of the stories told by those who did not know, and the elf for he hardly knew his kin.� Their fears heightened by the appearance of the fabled Galadhrim, in awe of Calas Galadhon, bewitched by the Lady of Lorien.�

She saw into their hearts and knew them, offered words of comfort or distress to each, for each to bargain with in their own way.� To Legolas she smiled, offered no rebuke for his wisdom come late, nor did she offer comfort with foresight.� Only a request that he rest.� �

Rest Legolas attempted beneath the boughs of the mighty trees, but rest eluded him and so he slipped away to seek solitude in his grief.�

The trees welcomed him as he leaned against them, his hands touching them like a lover, his cheek pressing against the smooth bark as he wept tears he had not allowed to fall whilst among his companions, tears he had not allowed to fall with Glorfindel within sight.�

The lady watched for a while, her presence known only to the trees who breathed not a word to the stricken elf.� When she stepped forward she gently drew Legolas into an embrace.� �

//Grieve young one, for what has passed, and for what is to come// she whispered to him, //but your path will not always be so strewn with heartache//�

�He will return to me?��

Galadriel touched the wet cheeks, cupping the streaked face in her hands.� It was an enigmatic smile.� �The road is a long one before we all can find peace.��

While her words offered little, the comfort of her arms was enough.� Legolas felt the weariness of the days and years fall upon him as she effortlessly scooped him up, cradling him as she walked away as mother with child.�

Each sought healing in his own way.� Legolas knew little of the next days, succoured with the chambers of Lady Galadriel, he slept in deep restful non dreaming.� Awake he would be fed with delicacies rarely seen beyond the borders of the trees and slowly he found the courage and peace he needed, uncovered the resolve he would carry with him until his part in the task was done and he could seek out Glorfindel.� �

The night had him surveying the landscape below and beyond.� The high trees waved in the slight breath of the wind.� There was a whisper they seemed to convey, the words of which he could not understand.� Until this night.�

�Can you hear?� she asked.�

Legolas shook his head.� �I hear but do not know what they say.��

She held his hand.� //Listen//�

He did and he heard the song of the forest.� He smiled as he reached out to the trees and his heart sang back to them.� �

//He is there//�

Legolas looked perplexed at her.�

//Reach out to him//�

Legolas gazed into the distance.� He felt the shimmer within his soul, saw the golden haired warrior dressed for battle.� Lowering his sword this vision of Glorfindel turned to look directly at Legolas, the smile appeared slowly, but there was no mistaking it.� Legolas smiled back and the image faded.� When he turned from the forest Galadriel was gone, the music dimming.� Legolas stood against the railing until the sun set on the horizon.� Before leaving he gave his thanks to the trees.� �
�

Legolas had hoped that Glorfindel would ride with the Dunedain and thus the twins.� But it was not to be.� �

�He is needed elsewhere,� Elladan explained on his behalf once they had delivered their message to their brother.� They had seen the searching look among the company when they had first arrived, pleased to note the change in Legolas in regard to their mentor and confidante.�� They held Legolas little at fault for the lack of understanding between the lovers, they too had been dismayed that Glorfindel had not been more forthcoming to them in their youth, but had had the wisdom of their father to guide them in their acceptance before they had approached the legend they knew as their protector.� They had only raised the matter later, then merely to seek the reasons that Legolas had not waited to hear on discovery of the secret.� �

�He asks that you take care in your quest,� Elrohir added.� They had spoken with Glorfindel at length before they had parted ways, the place that Legolas still held in his heart evident in his concern for his safety.� �When this is done, there is much he would wish to speak to on.��

Legolas nodded.� �There is much I wish to tell him.�� � �

�Then we look to the will of the Valar to see us through these dark times,� Elladan whispered softly.�

He watched them, their slight touches that could just be taken as innocent where it not for the look in their eyes.� He watched them walk away from the camp, their foster brother standing guard over their privacy.� It was a love he hoped to match but knew he would never.� To at least aim close, that was what he would strive for with Glorfindel.� Give him a love and trust he should have long ago.�
�
�

Glorfindel leaned forward and stroked Asfaloth�s snowy neck.� Dressed in sombre black, the only adornment of colour the clasp of silver that held his cloak.� Perched as he was on the high hill overlooking the fields, he could see the enemy massing, knowing that they could see him just as clearly.� He cared little, the battle was coming, all were aware of it, it was the time of it that was as yet undecided, and in that Glorfindel hoped to have the advantage.� They would know if the ringbearer had been successfully in his task in time, but that would not profit them in this fight.� This was for the elves alone to avenge.� Before he turned Asfaloth to return to the others, he granted himself one final moment of reflection.� �

�Legolas,� he murmured to the wind.� Both had their destinies to face, separated by the vast distance, yet a part of him rode with the prince through the Paths and to the Fields of Pelennor.� �

When they spoke of the Balrog it was in hushed tones, and seldom more than once in his presence, awed by his courage.� What they who had not beheld one of Melkor�s servants could not understand was that there were more fearful things to face.� There was letting the one you loved live and learn their own lives.� There was standing impotent while they chose a destiny.� There was knowing the danger they faced and not be able to stand in their stead.� Glorfindel faced all this, and with a wry smile as he dismounted, conceded that given the choice, the Balrog was the easier foe.� It was a swifter death than the one he faced now.� �

Turning Asfaloth loose into the compound, Glorfindel made his way to his tent.� Removing his boots and cloak only he lay on the makeshift bed, attempting to focus on the battle to come.� It would not be the first time he had worried for a loved one, he hoped it would be the last.�� Drifting into slumber, he offered a plea for the safe passage of� Elrond and Thranduil�s sons.�
�
�

Battles raged across the land, men and elves may not have fought side by side but that was not to say they did not fight to overthrow the evil that had sought dominance.� Elves took up arms to defend and to attack in those lands that had long been held in darkness and to repel the black hordes who sought new lands to conquer.� As Glorfindel raised his sword in triumph, he noted the shafts of light that broke through the heavy clouds.� The deed had been done.�
�
�

For two warriors who had marched to confront Sauron three millennia ago, this was a bittersweet moment.� They embraced and as they held each other remembered what they had lost and gained.� The weakness of men had been outshone this day by the courage of the Halflings and by the metal of one man who had stood and faced his destiny.� Now in different ways the ancient elves would go to meet their fates.� They would ride to the ravaged city, witness a king crowned, a bride given and a reunion long overdue.�
�

������������****************************************�
�

Part Four � Reconciliation �

The ride to Gondor was not without sadness.� The ravages of war scarred the earth, the pain of it touching each elf as they looked around them.� The sight that greeted them in the kingdom was unsettling.� The company paused on the hill, the White City blackened.� Yet the tower loomed large, glistening in the sunlight, promising a future bright with possibilities.� �

Glorfindel surveyed the scene before him and wondered at the victory wrought and the cost. With a deep breath he looked as the rays of light caught on a city hewed so long ago from the rock.� He would take heart from this long beleaguered city, though he did not expect the upcoming meeting to be free from anxiety.� It had boded well that they had reached out to each other without rancour and no little regret, but to gaze upon Legolas and he upon him was a prospect that delighted and cowered his heart.� Knowing this, Elrond laid a hand on the thigh of his captain.� Glorfindel nodded to his lord.�

�Tell him what is in your heart, it is all he wants to hear,� was the gentle advise. �

If his long life had provided any lessons to Glorfindel, it was that there is little that is certain, much that happens rarely follows the path planned.� Thus it was on arrival in Gondor and days subsequently.� �

They were aware of each other that much was clear.� There were the looks from afar as they were separated by so many others, their attention, particularly that of Legolas, was demanded elsewhere.� And as Glorfindel watched, it seemed the distance between them widened in many ways.� The closeness he had felt when the miles had separated them was being lost within this proximity of each other.� As Legolas was ensconced with the fellowship, bound by their shared experiences and the need to reaffirm their lives within the realms of what had been achieved, Glorfindel was left to wonder if he had chosen the right path, and that perhaps the eagerness to see Legolas had overridden good sense.� He wandered the rubble strewn streets seeking an oasis of comfort, or in a city much bereft of such things, particularly for one of the First born, rode with Asfaloth along the river and over the plains, remembering his own part in the story and what he had lost and gained.�

The eons faded as he closed his eyes.� There before him was the alliance, cut down so unmercifully, there were the ones he had seen die under that black hand.� And now it was finally all over under the most unlikely of circumstances.� What would become of them all now was in their own hands.� What would he do Glorfindel wondered, leaning to rest his hand on the smooth coat of his companion?� It had seemed so well mapped out in his mind.� Ride to Gondor, hold Legolas in his arms, whisper and listen to the words that needed to be said.� �

The only light was the pale glow of the moon as Glorfindel rode back to the White City.�� His presence was not required in anything of import, and apart from the courtesy of informing his hosts of his intentions, there would be few, no, none, Glorfindel reflected ruefully, who would look for him.� The kitchen staff would ensure that there was food available to him if he required it, and the stable hands were more than willing to keep aside the oats for Asfaloth.� �

Legolas paced the hall.� He had attended to his duty, in some aspects he felt he had more than merely attended to them.�� There had been a sense of need and obligation, of willing further sacrifice.� But this night he had decided to indulge his own desires and set aside duty.� For too long he had watched from afar, feeling the distance widen.� It was not what� he had anticipated nor dreamed when he had felt the coming of his heart�s companion.� All the hope of reunion was fading, the garnered comfort that the link with Glorfindel had created seemed to be a far off memory, one that at times Legolas now doubted the reality of .� And now, just as he had found his resolve and freedom, Glorfindel was not present to receive it.� �

Elrond watched the young prince with a heavy heart.� He had urged Glorfindel to keep hope, quietly offered hope to Legolas.� He knew too well how duty was a harsh mistress.� Peace it seemed was driving apart what war had brought together.� As with all of those he cared for, Elrond felt the close presence of Glorfindel returned and the melancholy beneath that was not only remembrances of this land of men.� �

Legolas was aware also, turning sharply to the wide doors as though he expected the Imladris elf to enter.� The hand on his shoulder was so light that the touch would have only been felt by another elf.� Warmth flowed through his veins, a quiet amid the hum of voices around him.� Turning Legolas looked at Lord Elrond and nodded, Elrond grateful that the young one would not let pride stand in the way of his heart.� Age and experience had changed the prince for the good.� There existed a sombre confidence, a realisation of why Glorfindel wanted recognition for who he was, not awe of his past.� They had both accomplished great deeds for the good of others, suffered loss and triumph, yet they were more than even those accomplishments.� Legolas had seen that the truly great go on to achieve so much more, perhaps not on such a grand scale, but to deeds no less worthy.� Glorfindel had been that when they had first met, a hero who did not stand only on that, who recognised that there was so much more to be done.� Legolas had fallen in love with that warrior, the one who continued to place his life and courage in the service of others, not the slayer of beasts.�

There was no doubt Glorfindel knew who stood in the darkness and watched.� The approach had been as silent as any hunter on the cobblestones and shifting rumble, yet Glorfindel continued with his grooming of Asfaloth smoothing down the coat after the brush.� Asfloth had flicked his ears, acknowledging the visitor in the absence of his master.� �

�Glorfindel,� Legolas whispered, not intending his thoughts to become words.� He saw Glorfindel still at the sound of his name, muscles tense before he slowly turned, composed now, his features seemingly relaxed and impassive.� �

�Legolas,� was the reply so carefully spoken, a tremor barely noticed, a blink that momentarily hid the brilliant blue eyes the only signs that Glorfindel would greet another elf differently.�

�I�.� Legolas began, his planned words evaporating in the presence of Glorfindel.� Over and over he had recited what needed to be said, building on the connection that had been felt since Imladris.� Now it had vanished, seemingly inadequate to give voice to range of emotions within him.� The shame of the ire of so long ago, lingering still despite the forgiveness that had been offered, the love that had never dimmed despite that anger and separation.� �

�I know,� Glorfindel murmured softly, �I know.��

Who moved to who, how far and how fast was not important any longer.� They were in each other�s arms, there needed to be no words, no apologies asked for or given, their hearts, hands and mouth said all that needed to be said.� �

�Not here,� Glorfindel replied to Legolas� question, �come with me.��

Elrond watched the two elves as they hurried through the little courtyard, hand in hand, the happiness so evident in the way they slowed to hold each other a little closer before continuing.� �

Once behind a closed door, the two blond elves regarded each other anew.�

�You are unharmed?�� Glorfindel asked quietly.�

Legolas nodded.� �And you?��

�Trivial things,� Glorfindel replied.�

Legolas nodded as if this was of such weighty import that it justified consideration.�

Glorfindel shifted his gaze to the floor and then returned it to Legolas.� �I have missed you.��

�Truly?��

�Truly,� Glorfindel reiterated softly, waiting.� His heart open with those words, he looked to Legolas in hope.�

�I missed you so.�� Legolas could bear the separation no longer, his head resting against Glorfindel�s shoulder, seeking the comfort he had known so long ago.�

Glorfindel wrapped strong arms around him, offering as much as taking.� �

Yet Legolas was no longer the young one he had fallen in love with and had carefully resisted expressing his desire to.� This elf was a seasoned warrior, well versed in the ways of war.� Though it little concerned Glorfindel, he wondered in what other ways Legolas had changed, what over the years had he further experienced.�

�There has only been you,� Glorfindel admitted as he nuzzled into the loosened hair.� It was not that he had none who would gladly share his bed, offers came each night, and day, some quietly, some not so, and the invitations did not lessen with his own quiet refusal.�� He wanted only one elf, more importantly there was only one elf he needed.�

Legolas stepped back to look closer at his lover.�

�None?� he asked, delight and awe in his voice.�

Glorfindel offered a shake of his head.� He did not ask or expect a similar confession from the younger elf, after all Glorfindel had had two life times to explore pleasure, and an elf as young and as beautiful as Legolas could not be asked to forego such.�

Legolas gazed at the ground before he thought to speak, carefully choosing his words, unsure what Glorfindel would think of him, what he would conclude from what was said.�

Glorfindel slid a finger under his chin, raising his head so that blue eyes met blue.�

�I will think no less of you, �tis natural to wish to feel the touch of another,�� Glorfindel whispered, hoping to ease Legolas� silence.�

The young elf shook his head.� ��Tis not that I have sought another.��

�You are beautiful Legolas,� Glorfindel continued, his hand cupping the comely face, �there would be no need for you to seek out a companion for your bed, I fancy there would be offers aplenty.��

�Aye,� Legolas agreed,� there were those who thought to charm me sufficiently to lure me to their beds.�� There was a further hesitation, not passing unnoticed by Glorfindel who nodded his agreement.�

�It matters little Legolas,� Glorfindel countered in the silence, wanting to dissuade the mention of names and times.� �

�There was no who could tempt me,� Legolas murmured, �only one could do that.��

It was the turn of Glorfindel to speak in amazement. �Truly?��

�Truly.��

Glorfindel looked in awe at his young love.� Part knowing the answer, for it was what had kept him from the bed of another, Glorfindel pressed further.� Legolas looked into the expectant blue eyes.�

�I knew always where my destiny lay�.I knew I was foolish �.too young to realise fully what was before me, seeing only what I thought had been withheld, not what had been given.� I hoped�hoped beyond what I deserved that I would be forgiven for not understanding, for accusations that were unjust.�� Legolas had stepped back, unsure with his confession.� �Am I forgiven?� �

Glorfindel had listened, aching to touch but knowing what Legolas needed to say, if only for his own peace.� As Legolas finished his plea, Glorfindel watched for a moment seeing within Legolas the sincerity of his words.� He pressed his hand to the pale cheek, his thumb catching the tear.�

�You were forgiven long ago Legolas, forgiven what little there was to forgive.� I regret my part in our estrangement, I should have come to you earlier, but fear kept me away�.fear of rebuke for my concealment� forgive me?��

In reply Legolas gently kissed the soft lips.�� �There was never anything to forgive Glorfindel.��

Glorfindel laughed a little.� �Let us call this thing done, we have dwelt too long on the past, let us begin this anew, let us look to a future, if you will, with me.��

Legolas� hand covered the one still at his cheek.� �I would have what you held from me in my youth, I would, that we come to love each other completely.��

�It was not for the lack of want,� Glorfindel replied, grasping Legolas� hand, bringing it to hold as they stood.� He looked at the elf before him, shaking his head with a slight smile under the tears.� �You have grown so much,� he sighed, �so much.��

Legolas nodded, loosening Glorfindel�s grip on his hand as he sought to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.� Glorfindel did likewise, his eyes never leaving the young elf.� Clothing dropped unheeded around them, gazes straying now and again to the bodies revealed.� Legolas indeed had grown.� The slight young body Glorfindel had known was now muscle taunt, slender still, but training and age had added sleek lines that had not been in evidence but as mere hints of what was to be.�

Lowering his eyes to the floor as the last garment was cast aside, Legolas stood in the silence of the room.� Glorfindel moved closer to him, lifted his head and kissed him softly.� The slight shaking of both elves was not unnoticed by either.� Glorfindel smiled as he led Legolas to the bed.� There was a question unspoken and an answer given before they lay together.� It would be a night of rediscovering and discovering.�

Hands slowly moved over velvet soft skin, stretched over hard muscle, each touch of fingertips drawing a sigh and a deep memory.� Mouths explored where hands had lingered, Legolas bit at the warm skin of Glorfindel�s neck, Glorfindel tilting his head in invitation of the claiming mark.� A similar bruise placed with love was left on Legolas� pale skin.�

The two bodies moved with and against each other, low moans and soft words were exchanged with each rub of hard flesh on silken skin.�

With a decision he had contemplated for some time, Glorfindel reached for the small jar of oil that lay on the table by the bedside.� Pressing it into Legolas� hands he nodded at the puzzled look.�

�I will guide you,� Glorfindel murmured, then stopped as he took in the worry in his lover�s eyes.� �Is it �is this what you want?�� he asked, stroking the blond strands of hair back.�

Legolas nodded, needing assurance.� �But is it what you truly desire?��

Glorfindel twined the golden lock in his fingers.� �There have been few things in my long life that I have been certain of,� he began, his voice tinged with deep emotion, �that I love you and want this, is something I have never doubted.��

�I am glad,� Legolas responded, turning the glass bottle in his hand thoughtfully before searching the face of Glorfindel.� �I had thought�.� he added slowly.�

Glorfindel kissed him once more.� �That will be a gift�.the time of which will be yours to choose.��

�And if I choose now?��

Glorfindel shook his head.� �I would show you what pleasure there is to be had before that choice is made.��

Legolas marvelled at what was being offered, fumbling with the top of the bottle.� Glorfindel smiled, remembering the first time he lay with another, younger than Legolas but just as anxious and in awe of what was about to happen.� In sympathy for that night so long ago, Glorfindel took the container, removed the stopper, and turning Legolas� hand, poured a little of the shimmering liquid into his palm.� With one of more experience Glorfindel perhaps would have foregone this, Legolas though was liable to be hesitant, causing pain to both.� It would be worth the time taken to prepare each other and give added pleasure as they did.�

Legolas dipped his fingers into the tiny pool, the sweet scent that lingered from it a calming salve, Glorfindel capped the bottle, depositing it beside him, they would need it later.�

Glorfindel indicated his readiness, arching his body, taking hold of the glistening fingers. � �Yes,� he breathed as Legolas understood, slipping one then two cautious fingers into the offered body.� There was a hiss of caught breath, then a relaxed exhaling as the feeling became more familiar.� �Yes,� he repeated with more fire in his voice, �deeper�.spread �the oil�move�� he managed as Legolas went deeper, widening the spread of his fingers.� Glorfindel called out through bitten lip, fighting to control the clenching of muscles.�

�Enough,� Glorfindel breathed gently, stilling Legolas� hand with his own, the need growing within him.� He patted at the bedding to locate the bottle once more, pressing his thumb to the stopper as the bottle was opened.� This time he poured the contents into his own hand as Legolas knelt between his curled legs.� �

Legolas shivered as the warm fluid was dripped onto his skin, moaned as Glorfindel�s skilled fingers coated his erection with the oil.� It was just enough to make slick the hardness, just enough to bring Legolas closer, the first pearl drops used also to moisten, but not so near to the edge that Legolas felt the shudder rack his body.�

Reassurance came with a smile, Legolas poised.� �Slowly,� Glorfindel advised softly as Legolas pressed against him.� �

And slow it was, painstaking, excruciating and wondrous.� Legolas felt his body flame, every fibre of his being alight.� For the first time in his life he was whole and his soul rejoiced at the completeness of spirit and heart.� It had been worth the waiting and the wondering to share this, safe now in the knowledge that with no other would he have this, that as he sank deep into Glorfindel�s giving body, the captain was his and Glorfindel held Legolas secure for eternity.�

Glorfindel motioned only once to urge Legolas, flexing his hips, buttocks rising from the bed as he coiled his long legs around the slender waist.� This was what he had dreamed of night after long night, had thought it banished from his grasp until they had found each other again.� �

Legolas gazed at the pale skin flushed with passion, stared into the darkened eyes, watched the sleek body move, amazed at the desire this stirred in him, looked down at the thrust of his own body, watched as he almost withdrew, then thrust back to feel the clench of muscle about him.� He heard only the sounds of Glorfindel�s pleasure, the groans and low moans, heard himself respond with like sounds.� �

The quickening surprised Glorfindel.� He had long since ceased to utter any words to Legolas.� The young one had allowed instinct to guide him, and this elicited no complaint from Glorfindel.� Yet both had waited long enough to delay much further.� Legolas threw his head back, hard and deep within his lover, he shuddered with the rush of completion.� The warmth flooded Glorfindel�s senses, clutching at his lover�s arms, drawing him deeper still with a tightening of his legs.� Legolas felt the sensation of loving for the first time in a sweep of emotion, not the least that of his own and Glorfindel�s passionate completion.�� He was welcomed into loving arms as it overwhelmed him and he cried soft tears of joy.� Glorfindel stroked the soft golden hair away from his face, brushing his fingertips over damp cheeks, saying nothing but whispers of his love.�

This, thought Legolas, was the Glorfindel few knew, this was who he was to the ones he loved, this was who he was to the one he loved.�� He looked into eyes that hid nothing, realised that they had always spoke the truth.� �
�

The ceremony was no less solemn, nor joyous than that of the crowning of a new king and the marriage that anointed a new queen.� In that, it marked no less an occasion, bound by laws more ancient than those of mortal man, and witnessed only by those who understood.� Lord Elrond recited the vows, his sons stood beside him in support.� It had been they who had prepared the two before them, coached them in their obligations, accompanied them to the rituals that had preceded this.�

Both were dressed in simple white.� Around each waist a silver belt that sheathed daggers embossed with ancient script.� Lord Elrond nodded, recognising the weapons that were only part ceremonial.� Pledges were made and answered, eternity was before them and they would be offered just one chance to bow from this commitment.� Glorfindel looked to Legolas.� Even as he knew what the answer would be, his heart raced, uncalm until the words were uttered and the rings placed.� �

Elladan offered the newly forged ring to Legolas.� There was no hesitation in his words, no pause as the ring was slipped onto Glorfindel�s finger.� Elrohir stepped forward with an identical offering.� Glorfindel pledged his love to Legolas as Legolas has given his, and the ring was placed.� There were shy smiles as they shared their first kiss amid others.� �

�I love you,� Glorfindel whispered as they turned to the gathering to accept the joyous greetings.� �

�I love you,� Legolas managed before he was embraced by Elladan then Elrohir.� Glorfindel in turn kissed each twin tenderly before embracing their father.� �

The journey was almost complete for them.� They remained closeted in their appointed rooms during the next days and nights.� If they moved from that sanctuary none saw them.� In truth they would walk under sparkling skies, hand in hand, deep into the night.� Few words would pass between them, they had no need, everything was said in the touch of their hands and the shine in their eyes.�

Duty would part them one further time, Legolas to the promise he had made, Glorfindel to the pledge he had given.� When the hour came there was a certainty in Legolas� heart that had not existed the last time he had watched Glorfindel ride from him.� As with that time he resisted the desire to go after him. The farewell had been sweeter but no less painful.� A raised hand bid his love goodbye for the moment, and amid the tears Legolas smiled.� When next they embraced each other, he knew what it was that he would welcome Glorfindel with.� In the increasing distance between them Glorfindel paused and looked back, a smile gracing his lips.� His mate�s thoughts resonating in his mind.�

�I will hold you to that,� he whispered.�

�I expect no less,� came the reply.�
�
�
�
�