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Summary: �Can you hear me tonight? Take me out of this darkness and into the morning light.� - Out of the Darkness, Chris Rea
Author's Note: Many sources state that Thranduil did not begin to move his folk underground until near the end of the first millennium of the Third Age, when the shadow of the Necromancer began to darken the Greenwood, but other sources suggested this may have begun earlier. Forgive this minor deviance from canon. I�m not sure I hit the hair fetish dead-on, but I did my best. *grin* Happy Holidays!
** denotes mindspeak **
* * *
“A message arrived for you today from Eryn Galen,” Glorfindel said, stepping into the front room of his chambers and pulling the hallway door closed behind him. He crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled his lover to him for a one-armed hug, taking a moment to bury his nose in Erestor’s raven locks and appreciate the scent of his beloved’s fragrant hair.
“It is a curious thing; the handwriting is not Thranduil’s, but it bears seal of the king’s household,” he said at last, releasing his mate and holding out the roll of parchment.
“Oh?” Erestor’s fine brow arched, and he reached to take the scroll. “How unusual.”
He took the rolled parchment and peered thoughtfully at the unknown, but somehow familiar, handwriting that spelled out his name. “It is not from any of his advisors, that is certain. I would recognize their script. The writing resembles Thranduil’s, but yet not so…”
“Open it,” Glorfindel gently urged, releasing his lover and giving him an encouraging little nudge toward the window seat, Erestor’s favorite place to read, then moving away to allow his mate some privacy.
Erestor settled down on the plush cushions, broke the wax seal on the letter, and began to read. He was silent for a few moments, and then finally cleared his throat and looked across the room to where his golden-haired lover was standing, arranging some books on a shelf that needed no organizing and trying not to appear too anxious to learn what the letter said.
Glorfindel felt the weight of Erestor’s stare upon him and looked up in feigned nonchalance. “Well?”
“The letter is from Legolas, Thranduil’s youngest.”
Glorfindel quirked one golden eyebrow in surprise. “His son wrote to you? Is everything all right with Thranduil?”
“No, not really. I think you should read this, darling, because it involves you, as well.”
Dropping down beside Erestor, Glorfindel reached for the scroll and began reading.
Master Erestor,
I am writing on behalf of my father, Thranduil of Eryn Galen. He does not know that I have written to you – this message was sent with utmost secrecy and one I trust implicitly arranged its delivery.
I have known since I was a child that before my parents were wed, you and my father were very close. It does not bother me that Father had a lover before he married my mother; she always spoke well of you, and she was an excellent judge of character, or so Father says. I will have faith in her opinion, and trust that you will be able to offer your guidance.
You are doubtlessly wondering why I would write to you, when we have never met, so I will come directly to the point.
The trouble with Father began soon after Nana died and has become more pronounced in the past few years. He is often distracted, and has withdrawn into himself. It is subtle, but I see that he is not the same person he was.
I have spoken with my brothers about Father’s condition, whatever it may be, but they tell me not to worry, that he will be fine. They have many other obligations that often take them away from home, so they do not see him as I do. While I have oft cursed being the ‘baby’ of the family and being told I am too young to be away from home, I am now thankful (at least in this!) that my lack of years has kept me close to Father, where I can keep an eye on him.
Erestor, please come, if your lord will allow it. I would not ask you to make the journey, unless I felt that the situation were serious enough to risk Father’s anger at my imposition on you. Father loved you once, and I know that he still considers you among those dearest to him. Perhaps my brothers are right and I am overreacting, but am not willing to let it go without asking for the advice of one whose judgment I can rely on.
Father told me that you have been bound for many years now, and I do not wish to cause any trouble between you and Lord Glorfindel by asking this of you, but for the sake of the memory of what you once shared with my father, please consider my plea.
It is presumptuous of me to even ask this, and I beg your forgiveness and understanding, but I ask only out of love and concern for my father. Please, Master Erestor. I do not know where else to turn, and I am worried about him. Use any means necessary to bring him back to us.
I will anxiously await your answer.
Regards,
Legolas Thranduilion
Post script – please send your reply to the attention of Galion, our family steward, so my father does not suspect we have been in contact!
“Hmm.” Glorfindel scratched his nose and looked down again at the parchment. “Rather protective of his father, it seems. How old is he now?”
“About forty or so; certainly not yet at his majority, or Elrond would have arranged to send a gift.” Erestor’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Well? What do you think?”
Glorfindel patted his knee and dropped the scroll back in Erestor’s lap as he stood up and stretched lazily. “I think you had better write to the young prince and tell him to prepare for a visitor.”
“How soon can we get away?”
Glorfindel chuckled to himself over Erestor’s certainty of the fact; in his mate’s mind, the decision was already made and all that remained to be determined was how soon they could arrange to depart.
A lesser Elf could have been, probably would have been, jealous.
From the beginning of Glorfindel’s courtship with Erestor, they had kept no secrets from one another, and he was aware that his intended still harbored strong feelings of affection, even love, for the golden-haired Thranduil. The two had met in Lindon as mere children – Erestor, the young son of the High King’s seneschal, and Thranduil, the only child and heir of Oropher, a Sinda noble exiled from the ruins of Doriath. The two had become fast friends, and virtually grew up together.
As they reached maturity, the deep feelings of friendship blossomed into a full-fledged love affair, and it was not long after that they initiated one another in the ways of physical love.
But they had suspected, even then, that their affair would be short-lived. Thranduil’s formidable father had not been kindly disposed toward ‘those troublesome Noldor,’ and had often expressed his desire to find a home for his followers, somewhere with mountains and trees, away from the bustle of the city.
One day, the inevitable happened. Oropher decided the time was right for him to move on, and Thranduil, ever the dutiful son, had bid a tearful goodbye to his lover and childhood friend, and followed his father. It was a sorrowful day that the lovers parted, and for years, they lost track of one another.
A twist of fate brought them together again, albeit in the form of letters and second-hand news. Erestor had become advisor to Elrond Peredhel, Gil-galad’s herald and commander of the High King’s army during the siege of Eregion, and was with Elrond when he founded his refuge of Imladris.
Erestor wondered often throughout the years what had become of his childhood friend, for no word had come from Oropher’s folk, other than the news that he had settled in the southern part of the distant forest of Eryn Galen.
It happened that a few years later, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin, passed through the Hidden Valley, and with her was her daughter Celebrían. Erestor was overjoyed to learn that Celebrían, through her father’s side, was distant kin to Oropher. When Celebrían departed Elrond’s valley a few years later, she was bearing both a mithril betrothal band on her finger and a lengthy letter from Erestor to her distant cousin, Thranduil.
It was another three years before he received a letter in reply, and learned that Thranduil had eventually married a beautiful and well-bred maiden with a keen sense of humor and a fondness for adventure. Erestor was relieved to learn that his childhood friend and lover had found someone to love, and hoped that Thranduil had been as happy with Gilethiel as he himself had been for the past five hundred years of wedded bliss with a certain golden-haired Noldo.
No, Glorfindel was not a jealous Elf. The fact was, he knew that Erestor loved him to distraction, and in turn, felt the same way about his raven-haired mate. He could not imagine what his life – his second one, that was – would have been like without Erestor, and was wholly confident that their bond was nigh indestructible.
So, he bent over to press a reassuring kiss to Erestor’s lips and then turned for the door.
“As soon as it can be arranged, my dear Counselor. Now get writing, and I will inform Elrond that we will be wintering in Eryn Galen. I have been curious to see these caverns that he has been building, anyhow.”
* * *
In the following weeks, letters between Erestor and Legolas were surreptitiously exchanged, facilitated on the young prince’s end by Galion, Thranduil’s trusty steward, and dispatched via messenger on horseback, and occasionally by means of carrier fowl.
In the course of their correspondence, it was mutually agreed that an unannounced visit from his ex-lover would seem far too suspicious to Thranduil. Elrond, a friend of long standing with both Erestor and Glorfindel, and who had had more than passing acquaintance with Thranduil’s late father in the tumultuous times of the Last Alliance, and from Lindon, was well aware of his counselor’s past liaison with the Sinda king. He, along with his lady wife, became willing conspirators in Erestor’s plan, and they thereby endeared themselves to the youngest prince of Eryn Galen for their complicity.
It was Celebrían, in fact, who fashioned the perfect explanation. Under her instruction, Erestor penned a letter to the king to apprise him of his intention to visit, under the guise of seeking Thranduil’s input about the increased level of unrest throughout Middle-earth. This was not wholly an untruth; even in Imladris, Elrond had sensed awakening darkness and wished to share counsel with his contemporaries. It was plausible that Elrond would dispatch his two most senior advisors; he had aids aplenty who could counsel him most aptly until their return in the spring.
* * *
It was, in the end, nearly two months later before the preparations and correspondence was concluded to everyone’s satisfaction. The mountains were already tinged with frost, and the winter was near at hand. Their departure must happen soon, or not until the spring.
Although Glorfindel was lethal with both double- and single-edged sword and fighting knives, though Erestor was deadly with the longbow and could split a fly in two with a throwing knife from a distance of thirty paces, Elrond positively insisted that four of his most trusted and able warriors would accompany them.
It was the evening before departure, and Glorfindel lay on his back in bed, winding a long lock of Erestor’s hair around his finger. Erestor curled on his side, resting his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder, one leg draped over his mate’s slender hips, while his fingertips traced idle circles across the flat plane of Glorfindel’s belly.
Hesitantly, he asked, “Are you certain that you are all right with this, Glorfindel? Me seeing Thranduil again, after all this time?”
Glorfindel did not answer right away. Finally, after a long and somewhat unnerving pause, he answered slowly, “Well, no, to be honest, I am not entirely comfortable with the situation. Legolas’ letters are entirely too cryptic for my liking, but I know that you would never forgive yourself if you did not go, so I will go with you, and do what I can. I like and respect Thranduil too much to do anything else, and would do my part as well to pull him through this, if I can do nothing other than be by your side and lend you my support.”
Erestor lifted his head, bracing his palm against Glorfindel’s stomach so that he could look down into his lover’s eyes. “I am afraid of what we might find, and it is a relief that you will be there. I cannot see him fall into despair. I did love him once, and he is still dear to me, even now.”
He gasped as he was abruptly pulled down to his mate’s chest and enfolded in a possessive embrace. “Do what you must, melethron, but do not forget who you belong to,” Glorfindel whispered in his ear.
“Never,” Erestor breathed, before he was flipped onto his back and a slick tongue parted his lips to ravage his mouth almost desperately.
* * *
Legolas, the fourth and youngest prince of Eryn Galen, was a comely young Elf, as Erestor learned a few days later. Legolas was tall for his age, not as broadly built as his father had been at a like age, but with promise of his father’s height and breadth. He resembled Thranduil somewhat, having inherited his father’s gleaming golden hair and piercing blue eyes, but was otherwise the spitting image of the sketches Thranduil had sent of his late wife, a devastatingly beautiful woman. In late adolescence, Legolas was striking, and would only become fairer as he reached adulthood.
Two fair-haired and heavily armed Elves, both clad in brown and green, dropped down out of the trees as the Imladris party turned off the Forest Road and veered north toward the part of the forest where Thranduil’s folk had, until recent years, abided. In heavily accented Elvish, the two introduced themselves and bade their guests follow, setting off at a brisk run up a hard-packed dirt road. Erestor, Glorfindel, and their escort followed on horseback, keeping the guards in sight.
Legolas met Erestor and his entourage at the bridge leading to the gate of the royal caverns within moments after the group had turned off the road. Glorfindel, discreetly watching Erestor’s face for his reaction to this first view of Thranduil’s kin, saw a flicker of disappointment pass his mate’s face when Erestor realized that it was Thranduil’s offspring and not the king himself who had come to greet them.
With Legolas were two more fair-haired Elves, also armed and again wearing the earthy greens and browns of the Elves of the region, and another Elf who looked to be only slightly older than Legolas, and was introduced as Legolas’ personal aide and closest confidante and friend.
Legolas’ smile of welcome was genuine, but the dark smudges under his eyes were evidence of his unrest and worry over his father. Clasping their forearms firmly in a warrior’s greeting, he quickly impressed both Erestor and Glorfindel with his confidence and maturity. Even at a young age, the prince carried himself regally, already showing the assured poise that was the mark of any successful ruler.
Legolas motioned the group to follow him, but Glorfindel looked around before asking the obvious.
“Excuse me, Legolas, but what of the horses? My men will take care of them, if you would but show them the way.”
Legolas laughed. “Bring the horses, as well. There are stables and barracks both within the caves. Come, you must see what Father has done, it is quite impressive.”
It was then that the Elves of Imladris had their first sight of the newly delved caves of the Elvenking of Eryn Galen.
He led the group, including the horses, through two enormous doors and into a cavernous front hall. A quietly murmured few words with his manservant, and the Elf led Glorfindel’s guards and the horses down a wide tunnel and out of sight.
Neither Erestor nor Glorfindel had seen the legendary Thousand Caves of Elu Thingol, but both had heard stories that described incredible beauty and seen grand pictorials depicting Thingol’s famed caves. If Thranduil’s mountain home was but newly delved and already so magnificent, then the Caverns of Doriath must have been exceptional, indeed.
Thranduil, despite his aversion for the race of the Naugrim, had consulted their finest builders and architects on the design of his people’s home. Thanks to their skill, it was pleasingly cheery and dry in the caves, the air surprisingly fresh. Natural clefts in the stone had been carefully expanded here and there to provide shafts that would channel fresh air from the outside into even the deepest recesses of the caves.
Intricate carvings embellished the archways between corridors, and brightly colored murals and drawings were painted directly on the walls, reminiscent of summer settings of fertile meadows and wintry scenes of snow-capped peaks and ice-encrusted rivers. Among these lushly rendered scenes, lit by many candles in sconces and oil-burning lanterns set into discreetly carved recesses, it was almost possible to forget that one was nearly forty feet underground.
Legolas led the way through many winding corridors, deep into the heart of the earth. At length, when Erestor and Glorfindel both were virtually certain they would never be able to retrace their steps and find their way outside, Legolas guided them up a short flight of carven stone stairs and halted in front of an elaborately and cunningly engraved wooden door. Turning the handle, he stepped inside a luxuriously decorated suite.
“These will be your chambers,” he said, gesturing for his companions to enter. “I hope they are suitable.”
Glorfindel dropped his pack on the bed, looking around him in appreciation. “They are beautiful, and more than acceptable, Legolas. Thank you.”
“Your father has done well,” Erestor added, fingering heavy brocade tapestries that hung on the walls, softening the effect of cold stone into a cozy and homey room.
“Your rooms have been supplied with everything you should need – there is fruit and wine on the table, and someone will be along later to see to your clothing and bring some hot water for bathing, if you would like to freshen up before dinner. If there is anything you require, just let one of the servants know, and it will be taken care of. Please, sit and rest after your journey. Would you care for some wine?”
“That would be nice,” Erestor replied, sinking into a deep armchair in front of a crackling fire.
Legolas, already the consummate host, moved to a small table and poured two glasses of wine, passing one each to the Imladris lords. He gestured for his companions to be seated and dropped to the floor, pulling his lanky legs up to his chest.
“Now we may talk more freely. I did not want to speak of my father on the way here, for though he is well-loved, one never knows when the walls may have ears, and it would not do to have his people suspect that there is something amiss, any more than they may already.”
“I am surprised he did not come to greet an old friend. He did receive word that we were coming?”
Legolas flushed. “He did, and was pleased by the news, or as pleased as he gets these days. He would have met you, but, ah…”
Erestor noticed the prince’s hesitancy and ventured a guess. “But he does not yet know of our arrival.”
“Exactly,” Legolas concurred with a small, sheepish smile. “I have been waiting for our scouts to report of your coming, and when they sent word that a party had turned off the Road, I intercepted the message and came to greet you in his stead. I thought it would be best that we spoke privately before you saw him.”
“An underhanded move that your father will doubtless take you to task for,” Erestor replied, though his words were without censure, but rather, approving of the young prince’s craftiness.
“Well, as I wrote in my letter, he keeps to himself most of the time. He joins us for meals and sees to his duties, but aside from that, he stays out of the public eye as much as possible. He is careful to keep up appearances, for the most part, but those who know him well can see that he is… you will see what I mean, and then we will talk again.”
He quirked his head. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
Erestor smiled. “Just marveling over how much you remind me of your father when he was young.”
Legolas pushed himself up off the floor and gave a small smile. “So it has been said. I only hope to live up to the expectations.”
* * *
In the idle hours before dinner, Erestor and Glorfindel finished the remainder of the wine, nibbled from the tray of cheeses and dried fruits that had been left for them, and then made love slowly, lazily, for the first time in nearly two weeks of travel. They rose from bed, bathed, and dressed for dinner.
Erestor dressed casually, but with great care, ensuring that his garments were free of wrinkles, his belt and boots were polished, and took an extra few minutes to brush his hair, his one concession to vanity, until it gleamed and flowed down his back like a waterfall of polished ebony.
Watching his mate’s atypical primping and preening gave Glorfindel an indication of exactly how nervous Erestor over at seeing Thranduil again, and under these circumstances. A somewhat sporadic reunion in the form of letters and erratic correspondence had brought them in touch once again, thanks to Lady Celebrían, but they had only seen one another once since their parting in Lindon. Upon the plain of Dagorlad, what should have been a joyous reunion was overshadowed by the horror of war and the grief of death.
Glorfindel was concerned over what state of mind they would find Thranduil in, and what effect this would have on Erestor.
* * *
They followed a pretty maid who had been sent to escort them to the dining room, but as it turned out, Erestor’s concern over their reception was for naught. Thranduil did not make an appearance at dinner that evening, to Erestor’s dismay.
Legolas took him aside and relayed a message that his father had been apprised of their arrival, but regrettably, he would not be able to greet them until the following day. An envoy from the Mannish town of Esgaroth had arrived, and the king would be unavailable for the remainder of the evening. Legolas would play the host in his stead, and passed along his apologies, along with a promise that Thranduil would seek them out in the morning.
Glorfindel and Erestor made the best of the evening and spent an otherwise enjoyable dinner renewing old acquaintances and meeting others for the first time. Some of Thranduil’s folk Erestor remembered from Lindon, and of course, Glorfindel was a legend in his own right. The folk of Eryn Galen were pleased to learn that Celebrían was happy in Imladris, and overjoyed by the news of the birth of Celebrían and Elrond’s twin sons.
After dinner, many of the king’s household adjourned to a side room for drinks and music. The Imladris lords joined them for a while, but soon pleaded exhaustion from their journey and retired to their chamber. Erestor was preoccupied and unusually quiet as they undressed and climbed into bed. Glorfindel held him until he went to sleep, and then joined him in slumber.
* * *