Title: What Cannot Be Had
Author: Squirrelchaser
Warnings: Slash (L/E), (G/E), starts out PG-13 first chapter, goes to mild R to be safe in next additions but nothing ever graphic, I promise! Just character thought.
Summary: "I am not one to be taken by love; for the thousands of years I have lived I can happily say that that is one emotion that I have not fallen victim to"
AN: love feed back, flame constructively
Disclaimer: own nothing…nothing! Tolkien owns everything…everything! (Characters, ect.)
**If the content of this story may offend you please do not read it**
What Cannot Be Had
*~Legolas~*
Imladris is beautiful, not as much as the Forest of Mirkwood, but I am biased in my thinking. The vast expanse of green grass is luxurious, the waterfalls are the music of nature, but the trees are not as many as I am use to, and the House of Elrond is very…open. But it is where I shall stay, so I must make the best of it.
Dusk is falling over the Misty Mountains, and I am glad to have arrived to safety before night falls. As of late, little is safe, even for the elves. After seeing that Mithlilien is taken care of properly (I did not know what to expect of the stables of these elves but happily my expectations were exceeded) I was shown into the house for evening meal.
The inside of Imladris was indeed as impressive as the out; tall gracefully vaulted ceilings, ornate decorations which sang of lore. I must remember that Master Elrond has been a part of these depicted ledgends, though I wonder why he revels so much in the past. Ada would never have illustrated such memories so openly on the walls; he is even reluctant to verbally relate his stories of the past, especially the Last Alliance.
The beings of the house are different from what I expected. There are other ledgends besides Lord Elrond (whom I have not encountered, as of yet). Glorfindel, formerly Glorfindel of Gondolin, resides in Imladris, as well as the daughter of Elrond (Awen Evenstar), Isildur's last heir. There are many strange folk of races I have had little or no encounters with; Halflings, Dwarves, men, and the like and while I have seen the cities of men and dwarves, to have all these races congregate together in such close proximity (peacefully) is a first. It seems to me a strange gathering folk after having dwelled so long in Mirkwood, where wood elves prevailed and few visitors came through on a regular basis, save Mithrandir.
Curiosity satisfied, I cease my exploration and retire to my room. I think tonight at least I will forego the Great Hall and the elaborate feast, rather slip off into the shadows and into the privacy and comfort of my own company. Besides, I may find myself next to a dwarf at table, and…well…
So sleep comes to me as I lie in Imladris, an inner peace to juxtapose what morning brings.
What happened in the counsel the next morning of yet I am still not sure.
*~Elrond~*
His eyes. His eyes!
My heart leapt at once into my throat; beside me, feeling my start Erestor glanced side long asking in his gaze, "What are you doing?"
I have known many fair elves, many wise elves, powerful elves, warriors. And now before me was a culmination of everything that was perfect, with a powerful reserve in the grace of his movements, a blazing, prideful soul in his eyes which will become my undoing.
His father, Thranduil, may have a love for silver but I have fallen for the Woodland King's gold.
*~Legolas~*
I am not one to be taken by love; for the thousands of years I have lived I can happily say that that is one emotion that I have not fallen victim to. Romantic love, that is to say for I bear plenty of healthy affection for those of my family and friends. Even by elven standards, I consider myself (and am considered by others) to be fair of face and voice, and being of high ranking among the elves of Mirkwood has made for many possible romantic encounters with a number of enticing females. However, I have long scorned the possibility (much to my father's distress) of finding a wife; love renders one vulnerable, occupies and poisons the mind; I had long assumed this and now I am sure of the fact.
And currently, as I leave the council of Elrond I find that, despite fury at myself, I am poisoned, and rendered useless though every ounce of logic in my soul protests. But love it seems is not interested in logic. Nor am I interested in the flood of new feelings that has come over me but reason and my distaste for this new situation has been overruled.
At the appearance of the elf lord at the counsel he hosted, my heart was gone. I had fallen into his voice, his movement, the dark hair that was so unlike my own, and as I sat listening to his clear voice relaying the story of Isildur's Bane, I was drowning.
Forced to action by bearing the news of Sméagol's escape, I relayed my message. I was almost ashamed! (And I have never known shame before!) I had been sent to Imladris to report a failure, which until being in the presence of Lord Elrond had not seemed very disgraceful at all; only unfortunate.
There did not seem to be an upset; as a matter of fact Mithrandir did not even appear troubled. I was relived, and the counsel commenced until the ringing of the noon bell where I was able to find myself alone to sort out my newly jumbled thoughts.
Throwing myself onto Mithlilien we tore out of the stables. I am not sure how long we were gone or where we went, all I could think about was him.
Now I understood the beauty of Imladris for it is a reflection of its founder, though the ethereal glow of the Last Homely House is but a faint shadow of Lord Elrond. The songs, the tales - though told to me briefly - did not do him justice. He was starlight, he was the darkest midnight, an undying legend yet as he was still living he was vulnerable. His eyes held the greatest of wisdom and had seen joy, terror, defeat and triumph of the ages, had fought along side the greatest of our kind. His hands were those of a warrior, a ruler, a healer, and given the presence of his three offspring, a lover.
I hated myself for this weakness that love has brought! Never before had I felt unworthy of anything, far from it; but now…to even dream of being held and loved by one so high seemed unattainable. He was one of the mightiest of the Firstborn, he had dwelt in the light of the Two Trees and his father watched on him from the heavens. But these were not the reasons why I was so sure that love was impossible for the two of us, for I was male, as was he. Love beyond the deepest friendship between two males was forbidden, deemed perverse and unnatural, and even if he should return my sentiments to sully the glory of this elven lord would be a wretched happening indeed. The fruitlessness of the situation and my yearning for this immaculate being humbled me, possibly for the first time in my life.
Sweet, sweet poison of love crept through my veins, unfulfilled it would slowly consume me, fulfilled it would condemn me and my lover…
Again I forwent the evening meal, and back in the cherished privacy of my rooms I paced, one hand cradling my elbow, the other hand clenched in a fist set to my lips where I gnaw at my fingernails. For the first time my body awake and keenly aware of its connection to my soul's desire; I was unable to think of little else except what I could not have, even the Ring of Power seemed unimportant. I wanted the Lord of Imladris.
There came a soft knock on the door.
I cease pacing, wondering who it could be; Mithrandir perhaps, or possible Aragorn. "Enter."
The elegant handle turns and the door opens.
My heart stops as the object of my thoughts enters the room, closing the door behind him and crossing the carpet until he stands an arm length away from me. He is tall, slightly taller than me, ageless, glorious. His mere presence makes me tingle, shiver, feelings I never knew existed rushing over my body till I know I will melt into a puddle at his feet, I just know it! I am sure he can see my knees quaking; I am sure he can see everything, and all will be lost!
"I am sorry to disturb your retreat,"
"There is no need to be sorry," I counter, sitting on a long reclining sofa. The bed is not far away. He sits next to me, body angled to face me; our knees almost touch. His gaze is piercing me right down to my shaking core; how young and foolish I feel, vulnerable to him, yet somehow I do not even care.
*~Elrond~*
Whatever I sought, I had gotten.
I had lead females on in my youth because I could, not because I loved them – but starting a game knowing you are already the victor becomes boring rather quickly. Celebrían; we were very much the same; I had gotten her but she had also made it her quest to "get" me as well, so our union was a stale victory for the both of us. She was love, light and playful; simply fun with no heavy ties. We had both understood that upon marriage, and had joyfully raised our children and had parted ways.
Whatever I had sought, I knew in the end I would attain. Until now. Until Illuvitar had seen fit to breathe life into a slender shaft of sunlight that had filtered through the trees of Mirkwood, I knew that there were few elves of Middle Earth that, with some effort, I could not have made mine. Until his eyes met and held my own at the first bell of the council; then I was gone in his eyes, in his soul, and there would be no return. To me he was fair and golden as the morning sun which seems to shine brightest on him, blessing his very existence and he moves with dignity and pride that rivals the most regal of our kind.
I, master of Imadris, bearer of Vilya, warrior of old and herald to Gil-galad…now these things seemed irrelevant and unworthy to this god of the sun…surely he could not really be of Mirkwood! Surely he could not even be an elf…
And the first thing I crave so much is what I cannot have. I am mystified; I have never wanted a male lover before, but I have never more strongly desired any lover until I set eyes on this Prince of Mirkwood! To be lost in desire for something forbidden is death of your soul. My heart weeps for what will never be, yet sings for joy in this perfect, flawless creature!
I seek him out for business purposes, but he is nowhere to be found in the Great Hall; he seems to value quiet and seclusion. Erestor, giving me a funny look, points me toward Legolas' chambers; what fate or folly would have them be a breadth away from my own out of all the bedrooms in this vast house! And now he was standing before me, we were alone, and I could not have him.
"I have come to you as I am to send out scouts before the Frodo the Halfling is to depart, for news of the Wraiths, tidings of Gollum and other necessary information." Dignity and decorum long practiced is the only thing that keeps me from following the raw impulses of my body, especially with his eyes – oh those eyes! – looking into mine.
"I would travel back to Mirkwood for any possible information, for my kin are most familiar with the habits of Gollum," Legolas replies.
Inwardly I smile, noting that his tone is one of forced calmness. "That would be very well, and you would return to Imladris," I say, more a command than a request. "The scouts will leave tomorrow at dawn."
"Then I will depart from here tomorrow at dawn." His eyes say so much more.
I nod.
He is proud, he holds his head with stateliness yet he glows; there is joy and youth in his character. Scarcely know what I do I briefly reach forward and run my finger tips down his jaw line, and want flares in his eyes. He can see into my heart, and as he looks into my eyes I know that he desires me. Words are not needed; for long minutes we stand, gazing, and immediately know all yet we both are telling ourselves and each other that it is outlawed.
"I cannot let myself be conquered so easily, by love or by another elf," he says softly.
I drop my hand. "Very well," I nod, biding him good night; he follows me to the door, and I can sense his gaze follow me until I disappear into my bedchamber a few doors down the hall.
*~Legolas~*
I lie in bed, fury at myself tightening in a knot in my chest until I clench my fists in frustration. A few rooms down lies everything I want. Possibly, I could have had it tonight. Do elf lords sleep? What consequences are there for creeping through the darkened halls of Imladris to find out, to gaze upon the nocturnal exquisiteness of an elven lord as he sleeps?
Throwing caution to the wind I toss back the crisp sheets. My heart is in my throat as I move toward the door, slightly ajar, behind which so much lies! I push it open, just wide enough to let me through, and ease myself through the crack. His private rooms are immense and lovely, filled with lore and love, but it is short work to find the most intimate chamber holding the ultimate reward.
The bed cradling him is vast, making even his powerful form seem small in it; clearly it was made for two. In the soft starlight I can see his long form draped with a deep red coverlet. He is on his back, dark hair unbraided and spread out over the white pillow, eyes closed, head turned slightly toward where I stand, lips slightly parted. One long, elegant hand rests lightly on his chest, rising and falling slightly with every soft breath.
I am entranced. I cannot breathe; I dare not. Nothing can end this moment; nothing!
The moment stretched on and before I knew it, the pale fingers of dawn were creeping slowly across the bed, ready to seize us both into the grasp of daylight to push us on to our duties.
And so scarcely two days after my arrival, I am now pelting back to Mirkwood…and what a change two days has brought me!
My father, ever vigilant, can tell.
For six weeks we prowl through Mirkwood, going as far as we dare in tracking this Sméagol, this foul creature, looking, hoping for any trace or tidings but there is none. At length, we give up hope and return to Northern Mirkwood.
"You will return to Imladris, Legolas, to report your findings – or lack of – to Lord Elrond. And," he smiled at me sidelong, "To tie up the unfinished business you may have there. I trust she is lovely?"
I twitch my mouth and shift slightly, unable to find a suitable answer to his prying question. "I will return to Imladris, and I will most likely be gone from Mirkwood for quite some time,"
Ada looked pleased, though I am guessing his idea of the reason of my absence varies greatly from my intensions. No doubt he would feel the opposite if he knew that I have every intent to accompany this Halfling in his quest as Elrond had requested of me, to represent the elves in this mission…And I cannot even think of what he would do to me and the Lord of Imladris if…
*~Elrond~*
Scouts had returned from afar, bringing little news of encouragement. Gollum was unaccounted for, and while there were no tidings of the Wraiths…no news was not good news; it only left one guessing when and where they would return. It brought me great relief though, to see my sons return safely from their journeys.
Legolas has returned to Imladris. At last I have peace of mind knowing that he is here, that he is safe, that he is within my reach. Yet I myself asked him to accompany the Ring Bearer possible to his doom; for some reason my heart tells me that there is no other elf suitable for this journey, not even Glorfindel. The stealth and cunning of the wood elves may prove more valuable for this mission than a seasoned warrior.
The members of the Fellowship have been determined and they will depart in a week, taking with them my greatest desire.
In the meantime, I have a week, but he avoids me. Briefly I wonder at this; has he spoken with Thranduil? How much could the elf king know of his son's heart? Briefly I despair.
I look into his eyes from across the room and watch him slowly melt, then he jumps back into awareness when another requires his attention, and exits hastily from the room and from my gaze.
I smile into the palm of my hand. No, all hope is not lost.
At first I am the one initiating the unspoken looks, then I find him looking at me, a slight smile threatening to turn up the corners of his mouth and give us both away and I hold his eyes, something pulses hot in between us and I forget that there are others present.
*Should there be more?*