Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Except maybe the guy Elrond snaps at. Even then that's questionable. Anyways, J. R. R. Tolkien, yeah he owns everything. I'm just a humble servant of the muses that prod me into writing things.
The forest was still in the young elf's passing, birds silent and gazing on curiously. Never had they seen one of the ever-young Children of Middle-Earth so solemn. Melancholy.
Sadness glittered in deep eyes the color of twin sapphires, a pain as deep as the sea between Middle-Earth and the Undying Lands.
The Undying Lands.
That was where he should be, the elf mused to himself. Not alone, wandering the grand forests of Rivendell, mourning the loss of his other half.
It was too late now, the last ships having parted, leaving behind all those that had swore to stay and guard what remained of magic in Middle-Earth, and those " like himself " that were simply fools.
He turned his eyes upwards, gazing at the wide, empty halls of the once full and lively city he'd grown up in. Moisture glistened on black lashes. Was that a light in His window? No, it had to be wishful thinking, a pain-stricken heart creating visions in the hopes of healing itself.
I'm going to die here. Alone.
He shook his head, sable hair caressing pale cheeks as smooth as new cream, and took another step forward into the city that now belonged to he, and he only. An eternal city and eternal child, both newly bereft of their eternity and left to wither without a witness.
"I will not go father." The boy sighed, shaking his head and crossing his arms, careful of the voluminous sleeves on his crimson velvet formal robes. Those words seemed to have become the young elf's personal mantra over the months since the Fellowship left Rivendell. Now, with the crowning of Aragon merely a week away, he had to repeat himself every morning, noon and night. He managed to count to one before Elrond Half-Elven, red-faced and clench-fisted, was blaring his predictable protests.
"I will not lose all of my children to this dying land!" The elder bellowed, drew his chest up, bared his teeth. Truthfully he was imposing, even frightful, and everyone nearby in the halls cowered from the furious voice echoing off the stone walls.
All but the younger elf.
"Everyday is the same. ̃No, I won't go.' 'Yes you will.' 'You can't make me.' 'Do as I say.' Aren't you getting tired of this yet?"
A constant litany, every day from waking 'til they finally slunk off to their beds in seeking refuge from the war of family duty.
When the only daughter of Elrond swore not to cross in the Undying Lands, the Lord of Rivendell had been heartbroken, but relented, unable to deny his dearest Arwen the right to stay with her true love.
Of course when his only daughter left, he expected his firstborn twin sons to go with him.
It would seem Fate was not on his side.
"Father, we have been over this subject a hundred times. More! You harangue Elledan and I from the time we rouse to the time we retreat to our chambers just to put a door between you and ourselves for a reprieve! You cannot convince us to revoke our decisions!" he shouted passionately, drawing startled looks from other elves.
The blood of Elrond was clearly running through the veins of the slightly smaller brunette, who stood up to the elder elf with an expression just as immovable as the Lord of Rivendell's. For several moments they stood like that, two marble statues seeking to stare the other down in an eternal struggle that could never find a conclusion.
This time is was the elder whose eyes turned away.
"We shall see." he murmured dangerously before adding "You will either come to your senses or remain here alone."
Elrohir was uncertain what was meant in those words, but he knew he didn't like the tone taken, and deep blue eyes narrowed as they followed the rippling layers of his father's fluttering robes, watching them disappear in a flash of gray and snap of cloth around the hall corner.
"Impossible!" the young elf cried. Anyone who didn't know him would have swore he was Elrohir, when in fact he was the twin of the young lord-to-be. A perfect match from midnight tresses to ocean depth eyes. Only their taste in clothing separated them for the benefit of others.
Caught in such a passionate outburst of refusal to believe what he was being told, upon standing " palms slapping down upon the desk he was at " he sent papers, inks and quills spiraling off to scatter on the stone floor.
"Elrohir would never say such things!" the fiery elven warrior swore colorfully, clenching his fists against the delivered message, only able to hiss "Impossible!" again, so great and consuming was his fury.
Elrond had cause to raise a brow when the younger elf's fist fell upon the wooden surface so hard the timber creaked, threatening to splinter.
"I am sorry, Elledan," he offered calmly, soothing "but what I say is true. Elrohir will be accompanying me to the Undying Lands. He said he wanted to see your mother."
He had added that last part in with a tentative verbal touch. He barely suppressed a smug smile when he noted his son's expression of pain. Even Elledan wanted to see their mother again, who had so long ago gone across the sea and left them behind.
"I did not attempt to convince him otherwise. You know my standing on the matter."
Elledan turned slowly, glaring out the window as Elrond did let slip a sly smirk.
"I see. I have things to do before I prepared for the crowning, Father. If you would excuse me."
The Lord of Rivendell had no desire to stop his son. The seeds of strife had been sown. Time would tell what benefits he could reap.
"Father says Elledan has decided to leave. I do not understand. I thought you both were going to stay here for the coronation. The marriage? What about seeing your nephews and nieces?"
Elrohir stared at the floor miserably, not even noticing when he slid the pin he was putting in Arwen's skirt into his thumb instead. He cursed, hissing in pain and sucking on his bleeding thumb before handing a handmaiden the pin with a snarl. Standing and turning away, he went to lean against the arch of a window overlooking the docks.
Three days and Elledan would be leaving from that very stretch of mirror-surfaced liquid on a boat of betrayal and broken promises.
"I do not understand myself. He will not speak to me. I have gone to his chambers twice and he will hear nothing from me. Father must have said something to him. But do not worry, Arwen. You still have me. I will not leave you without family." The young elf stated, albeit tonelessly.
His sister sighed softly, stepping from the stool she'd been standing upon for her fitting and drifted across the floor on bare feet. Slender arms wrapped around his torso and he tensed briefly, before relaxing, closing his eyes as pale hands twined fingers together and a cheek was pressed into the back of his shoulder.
"I want you both here and happy, Elrohir. I do not want you with a rift between you two. It does not bode well for the future."
"There is no future for 'us', Arwen. I think now it will be only me."
"Elrohir! Elledan! Friends!"
The twins were embraced by strong arms, kisses pressed to matching soft cheeks scratched by a familiar dark beard. While they smiled genially to their good friend and future brother-in-law, they would not make eye contact with each other. It was like that the entire day. From the moment the rose from their beds, the two elves had made it a point to avoid one another, pain etched in their features. Whenever Arwen crossed their paths, they pretended as though nothing in the world could have been wrong. There was no reason to make her return to her lover-Ranger " now King of Men " a bitter one, with their own rivalry.
Besides, there really were a lot of things to be happy about. Even Elrond was not in his usual sour mood. For all he absolutely hated Aragorn, for taking his daughter away, he still loved the man as only an ageless creature can love a human. Arms were clasped, hugs given and tears wept in the joyful reunions.
Elledan and Elrohir spent the next two days in a particularly skilled dance. No one suspected anything, other than Arwen, who knew all, and Elrond, who started it.
While the hobbits were still there, there were no end to pleasant distraction. Gimli and Legolas were a remarkable lift to sinking spirits and of course Gandalf, with his wild disregard for formality. The coronation was a success, of course, and immediately, a wedding was set into action.
There was no such thing as "short notice" for this exchange of vows. Everyone who knew the story, knew this wedding was planned long before Arwen and Aragorn were even thoughts to their parents. This wedding was decreed long ago, when Gods placed bets together, and played games with mortal hearts. Somewhere, some God saw fit to tie two hearts together against impossible odds. No one was surprised when Arwen was crowned Aragorn's queen.
The twins did well in the raucous lifestyle of celebrating Elves, mortals, Halflings, and one Dwarf. Drinking games were in abundance, dance was neverending.
At the close of the third evening, all joy fled the mirror imaged elves, and the return to Rivendell was excruciating.
"Where is Elrohir?" Elrond snarled under his breath, glaring at a pretty blonde elf who'd made the mistake of crossing the elven lord's path on the ship. He lowered his voice and schooled his expression when Galadriel looked across the deck at him, cool expression giving no hint as to what she was thinking.
"I do not know, my lord. I had not seen him upon the docks."
"Oh? And what of Elledan?"
"I saw him upon the docks an hour past. I could not tell whence he came, my lord, but he boarded the boat. He left to retrieve something, I believe. I am certain he returned. Lady Galadriel spoke with him, before he went below deck." The elf replied, chewing on his full lower lip fearfully. Certainly everyone of the Galadhrim were terrified of Her Ladyship's temper. But Rivendell's lord was known for his violent outbursts as well, and the blonde had never witnessed one " nor wished to.
"Good. Good." Elrond murmured, nodding, visibly relaxed. Elledan was on the ship, Elrohir would likely follow in short order. He was prepared to as the young elf another question when a delicate hand fell upon his shoulder.
"We must go meet our guests, Elrond."
The brunette tensed at Galadriel's voice and touch. Did she know of his schemes?
"Of course, dear near-sister." He murmured, drawing himself up to his most regal stance, turning to look over the ship's prow at the approaching group.
Elrohir gazed out the high windows of Rivendell, blue eyes glittering with tears he no longer had the strength to weep. He had wept for hours, hidden in the high tower of Elrond's palace, struggling to make his decisions. In the end, he rushed to the look-out, hair snapping in the wind as he gazed down upon the departure procession.
Gandalf, a mighty hero of the world, his time finished and purpose complete.
Bilbo Baggins, the once young Hobbit who had come to Rivendell with a troupe of dwarves, seeking elven aide.
Frodo Baggins, the poor, unfortunate soul who was poisoned by so much of the world's evil, yet still saved all of Middle-Earth.
Elrond and Galadriel, Celeborn and hundreds of others.
For several long moments, hope fluttered its delicate wings in his hollow chest. He had seen Elledan - his brother, his other half " leave the boat, travel into the city. He had nearly ran out to greet him, knowing Elledan must have seen him waiting on the high tower, praying to whatever God would listen. His world came crashing down, when he saw Elledan return to that life-stealing ship, and he could watch no more, crying out in agony and tearing himself away from the view below to beat his fists against the marble floor.
Elrond had poisoned his brother's mind! Some lie! Some sorcerers trick! He had to have done it! Elledan and Elrohir had sworn together they would not leave Middle-Earth unguarded, would not leave Arwen without family and protection.
Would not leave one another.
And there, below, Elledan broke their most powerful promise, one made in mingled blood when they were yet young elves.
He wept helplessly for a long time, only managing to pull himself from his overwhelming sorrow long enough to gaze over the stone wall, cheek pressed against the cool marble framing, wind drying his tear-streaked features.
"Farewell, brother, God speed your journey, may you be happy, whatever you do."
"I suggest you leave a note, Elledan. It is not like you to leave your twin alone for very long. Let alone forever, is unthinkable."
"He wanted to stay on this ship, he must be mad." Elledan muttered dispassionately, tired of his harpy of an aunt whispering words into his ears.
"Go and leave a letter. The ship will not be leaving for some time. Gandalf has not yet returned. You know his ways. A wizard arrives ""
"-precisely when he means to." Elledan finished, a weak smile gracing his lips.
"I do not understand this rift between you. You were so close. Too close."
He arched a brow, turning slowly to gaze at the elven witch. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. But do you not think it strange, he would change his mind so easily? And then now, he is not on this ship?"
"Isn't he? I think he is hiding from me" he murmured, suspicion growing in his heart as he gazed over at his father, caught up in conversation with several elves.
"Why are you here? I thought you were determined not to take the ship to the Undying Lands."
"I am not going, aunt. I came here seeking Elrohir, in the hopes of convincing him not to leave. But as he is obviously hiding from me as he has been this last week. I will no longer haunt him as I have. My heart is in Middle-Earth, as was his, once"
"Write a letter, Elledan. I will give it to him."
"Perhaps, perhaps I should." the brunette swallowed his emotions, but the moisture glittering in his eyes was telling.
"Go on now. It won't take you long."
Dearest Elrohir, my twin, my love and life. The only one I could tell everything and nothing. I do not know why you have chosen to leave this realm It was our dream to stay together, live as wild lords in the woods, protecting the world our nephews and nieces would grown within. What are we to do apart from one another?
We have never left one another for long, never been separated. Even in spirit to birth, we could not be alone, and were born not years apart but of the same womb. Remember how mother once spoke of us, being born holding hands? I miss mother.
I will always miss you more.
Whatever the reason for your decision to depart Middle-Earth, I am certain it was your deepest wish, and you were simply too kind or too cruel to tell me the truth of it. I wish you had told meI wish it had not come to this.
Every day, and every night, I will stand upon the tower over-looking the sea, and I will shed tears for you. They will pass on the wind, and the Gods will carry them to you in the form of a gentle rain.
I hear it rains a great deal in the Undying Lands.
I pray this letter finds you well. I cannot join you upon the ship, I cannot ever see mother again, I will never see Father. I wish that you had reconsidered. I do not think I will live as long, without you. You were everything for me that the rest of the world was not. Those were the words you once said to me.
I love you, Elrohir. My heart was in Middle-Earth. But now I know you take it with you, on this accursed ship. Please take care of it, and of your self, for it is all the good left in my world.
"What is this rubbish?" Elrond hissed, crumbling up the parchment and casting it to the floor. Celeborn bent to retrieve it, flattening it out to read for himself as Galadriel stood tall and dangerous before her brother-in-law.
"That," she began, voice like swords of justice "was you attempting to stand in the way of pure hearts and the hard work of the Gods."
Elrond did not cower, though in retrospect he perhaps should have, Galadriel's hand curling, talon-like, in the front of his robes.
"You have even been a thorn in my side, Elrond Half-Elven! You took my sister and did not care for her as well as you should have, you treated her children with an iron fist and now you have nothing.
In the corner, Celeborn smiled over the parchment, pointing to it in amusement "You know it sounds like the were in love a bit much for brothers."
Galadriel and Elrond both turned to the man with a withering glare. He promptly fell silent.
"I have not lost everything. Elrohir is on this ship." Elrond stated, a smug smile on his usually austere features.
"Is he? I think you should take a walk on deck and through the cabins. Ask anyone. No one has seen Elrohir, and talk has already begun about Elledan having left.
"What?" the elven lord questioned dumbly, before wobbling on his feet. The ship was casting off, that meant.
It was a beautiful night, for such a dismal one. It had been a long time since Elledan had taken the time to admire a full moon.
"How ironic" he muttered to the shadows surrounding him. Elledan's first kiss had been on the night of a full moon. So had his first tryst.
It had been lovely, really, for the secret little thing it was.
Elledan had a rather expansive space for being so humbly dubbed as "his quarters". Really his quarters were a small palace in themselves. As were most homes in Rivendell, the elves taken to luxurious living. How not, when you lived forever?
His room was fairly empty, sparsely decorated. He was a hard worker, as well as warrior, and there were as many shelves of books and parchments as there were of swords and shields.
The real extravagance lay in his garden. A high-walled, private space he'd had built for relaxing, it was the one place that held the most pleasant memories for him.
Soft marble rose in a circle of five pillars, cream-colored with gold-leaf rings at the top and bottom. The center was a marble bowl, carved with precision, ten feet across, three feet deep at its center. Always it was kept filled with fragrant herbs and flowers. Sometimes he had a soft woven mattress of plush green moss in it, scattered with rose petals. Sometimes he had a heated pool of water and oils with floating candles and flowers dotting the rippling surface, heated with a clever pit in a chamber beneath the garden.
Elrond had spoken against the garden and peculiar dais for years until giving up. He felt it was the silly fancy of Elledan's mother's blood in him. Elledan did not disagree, nor did he waver in his resolve to have the place built.
Elrohir had a similar vanity, a great menagerie of birds, but nothing so solid and complex as
Elledan's garden.
Elrohir had always loved Elledan's private space, and was the only person allowed in it. Even Arwen never stepped foot in the garden.
Now, it gave him no comfort. He had worked the prior evening to fill the bed with the soft mattress of moss, and littered the bowl and surrounding area with flowers of all kinds, primarily rose petals, brilliant crimson a stark contrast against the creamy marble and spring green moss. Sheer panels of black silk hung from the supports arching between the pillars, tied with golden rope. From the lattice-work ceiling, covered in rose vines, he had tied dozens of purple ribbons binding bouquets of roses. All that was left to do was to wrap himself in black silk, and tie himself in the remaining ribbon " a daunting task when there was yet nearly twenty yards left.
Over the course of the evening, after searching the palace from wall to wall, he had made his decision on what to do and where to go. He would always be there to protect his sister and her offspring, and he would no longer suffer the pain of losing all those dear to him.
He settled upon the moss, wrapping himself in silk staring at the feet, and began binding himself with the ribbon.
He sighed miserably, walking the halls of Rivendell, boots echoing softly.
Elledan was gone. He was now alone.
He had watched the ship depart, turning his back and missing Elrond bursting from the lower decks and racing for the prow. He was held back from forcing the captain to turn around by
Celeborn and two other elves.
Elrohir had no desire to watch the ship drift into the setting sun, and had gone deep into the forests surrounding the city, seeking solace. He had not found it.
As night fell and a full moon rose to laugh at him cruelly, he head back to the palace, musing on the foul humor of the Gods.
His first kiss had been on a full moon night.
He shook his head, banishing those thoughts. He had no more strength for tears. No more will to shed them.
It was the sense he was not completely alone in the city that caught his attention, before the light in a high window. His window.
He rubbed his face with one hand, swearing he had to have been going mad. When the pale glow did not dissipate in a fog of imagined relief, the young elf found himself running, slender legs carrying him with the speed and agility of a panicked deer.
He crashed into the door to Elledan's chambers, the wood creaking in sleepy protest as he threw the double doors wide. Frantically, blue eyes darted left and right, seeking some manner of answer. There, a candle lit in a lantern over Elledan's desk.
Ah, but it could have been lit before Elledan left, carelessly forgotten. Elrohir's twin was absent-minded like that, when drawn into his work.
Oh and how he must have worked!
The desk was absolutely covered in manuscripts, spell-books, parchments depicting old rituals. So many sheets of knowledge, flapping in the wind from the open garden doors, spilling onto the floor, fluttering in the empty room.
Curious, Elrohir caught up a paper captured beneath his foot. Lifting it to reading level, sapphire orbs scanned the recently written scripture.
There is too much guilt between us, I think. Perhaps he left to get away from the past? Perhaps he hates what happened? Does he hate me, I wonder? How not? He had fled from me. He will not talk to me. Tomorrow we leave for the coronation, and after that, he will depart on the ship, as Father said. He wants to see mother. I will not keep him from his wishes. I never could
"Leave on the ship? He was leaving, Father said" He shook his head, brows furrowing in confusion as he went to the desk, settling in the seat. It almost felt warm
I will not betray our childhood dreams, nor the dreams that grew between us as young warriors. Elrohir saw me as a protector. I cannot go against his fantasy of me. Nor can I do this thing alone. Not as I am. Arwen, and her children, will need a guardian beyond that of mortal ability. Aragorn cannot always be there, nor can the men of Gondor and Rohan. I will become a Spirit Guardianan Eternal Watcher. I cannot live with this sorrow
"Spirit Guardian?" he murmured, leafing through the pages. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of texts on the peculiar ability of elves to will themselves to die.
Was that what Elledan was preparing to do! Where was he!
"Elledan!" he cried, bursting out the bedroom doors once more, snapping his head left and right.
"ELLEDAN!"
Such peace
So quiet
Slowly
Stop breathing...
"ELLEDAN!"
Stop dreaming
"Elledan please! Where are you!"
Stop imagining things
"Elledan? Elledan! Oh Gods...ELLEDAN!"
Shh...
Relax...
"Damn you Elrond! Curse you and your arrogance!"
Forget everything...
Forget the pain
"Elledan please! Don't leave me! Not like this " not forever!"
Breathe...
Wake up...
WAKE UP, DAMN YOU...
He sobbed, trembling from head to toe, crouched and cradling the cold, limp form of himself. His other half, lifeless.
He was cocooned in silk and ribbons, laid out uopn a bed of moss and flowers.
Elrohir had taken a dagger to the silk over Elledan's head, sable locks pouring from the wrappings like blood from a wound, so soft and lustrous.
His cheeks had always been pale like new cream, even without the pallor of death, but now they were like porcelain, delicate and forbidding, marred only by Elrohir's tears crashing against the pristine surfaces.
"Damn you Elrond! Curse you and your arrogance!" he shrieked, throwing his head back as he pulled Elledan against his chest, pain lancing through his heart.
"Elledan please!" he croaked, voice catching in his throat, choked past tears and all consuming sorrow. "Don't leave me! Not like this " not forever!"
He collapsed over the shell of his twin, clutching him, fingers tangling in silk and ribbons, nails like tiny daggers stabbing futilely against the invisible foe, Death, as though he could somehow beat the spectre.
He whimpered pitifully, voice gone, replaced by a helpless whine against the unfairness of the Gods and their humorless cruelty.
"You didn't take the ship"
His eyes shot wide, mouth falling open, only to be closed by a pair of lips perfectly matched to his own.
They stayed like that for several long moments. Elledan felt he couldn't possibly need to breathe, perhaps having sought Death and being turned away changed him? He did not question it.
He groaned faintly, body aching with the retreating vestige of cramping cold, and the perfect feeling of fingers spearing through his hair, clutching painfully and dragging him into a deeper, confirming kiss. Elrohir had to make absolutely certain Elledan was real.
Elledan wasn't about to protest.
When they drew back - Elrohir blushing furiously from the contact that was as forbidden as it was simply taboo - the more currently dead than alive twin inhaled deeply, life-giving air rushing into painfully cramping lungs.
He didn't realize it would be so agonizing to return back to life after choosing death.
"How could you think to do such a thing" he heard Elrohir croak hoarsely. His only reply was the brushing of his knuckles against his twin's cheek. He gazed unblinking at the purple ribbon trailing from his wrist.
"We were such fools" Elrohir continued, and Elledan smiled ruefully, shaking his head.
"Yes, but Father was all the more a fool than we. Now he travels, bereft of all his children, crossing into the Undying Lands where he will find our mother, filled with rage and never letting him live down his petty actions. We are free, Elrohirand we kept our promise."
They looked to each other slowly, two sets of sapphires blazing in the moonlight. Elledan smiled knowingly, pushing himself up into a sitting position to wrap his arms around his brother. Elrohir returned the embrace without hesitation. How they could have ever let anything unravel the bond of twins was impossible to explain. They knew then, if they'd only searched their hearts and not given into inherited arrogance and petulance, this disaster would never have occurred.
"You're so cold." Elrohir murmured, making Elledan draw back and blink in confusion. He didn't feel cold.
"How is that ritual supposed to work?" Elledan shook his head, looking up to the moon.
"I am uncertain. I had suspected it would work something like a summons, or similar. I thought perhaps my body would be left behind and my soul would be all that remains, to walk Middle-Earth, ever vigilant."
"Are you certain you stopped it before it was complete?" Elrohir was uncomfortable with the concern Elledan might still be dying, somehow. Elledan nodded.
"I am still here. The spell was brokenyou brought me back from the dead" he whispered, running his fingertip along the ridge of Elrohir's brow.
His twin lowered his eyes, smiling softly as he untied the purple ribbons, letting the satin strips flutter to the bedding as he peeled away the black silk, tossing it away carelessly. They sat face to face for a long time, not speaking a word to one another, uncertain where to go, how to start. It was Elledan who moved first, shifting closer, one hand running slender, cool fingers through hair that could have been his own. Elrohir's head tilted backwards without resistance, always having been so perfectly compliant. Elledan's other hand slid beneath Elrohir's shirt, pushing it upwards while the fingers in Elrohir's hair balled into a fist, pulling at his hair and tilting his head back further.
Elledan was not satisfied until Elrohir was shirtless and bent back so far his body quivered with the strain against it. Teeth and tongue left reddened, saliva-glistening trails over Elrohir's chest and belly, and made short work of turning his pink nipples into tough nubs of sensitive flesh, pert from the chill of night air drying moisture upon them.
As ever, he bowed to the wills of his twin. He was a scholar above all else, not suited to the brutality of war, yet still a skilled and deadly swordsman. Elledan, however, was a master at wielding the upper hand. Elrohir valued that strength that he lacked, and it showed, even in their most pleasant sins.
Somewhere between teeth, tongues and nails, they both divested themselves of their clothing, rolling over one another on the bed, sprawled in silk, tangled in ribbons.
"I love you Elrohir. Despite your nose always to the books and your head in the clouds."
"Aye, assuredly, and I suppose I should love you and all your pig-headed resolve?"
"You look in the mirror enough, you know. Taking to bed with me should say something of your obscene vanity!"
"Oh ho? And what about you! Haven't you heard the term, pot calling the kettle black?"
"I am sorry, I don't understand your use of mortal slang. In our own language please?"
Their unadulterated laughter rang through the empty halls of Rivendell, naked bodies twined together and glowing in the moonlight.
If Elrohir had any complaints as to the chill on Elledan's skin before, they were lost.
Heat was an easily shared commodity.
They played like children, celebrating their unrestrained love for one another, free from the eyes and guards of other elves, of their father.
Not even the Gods could protest their adoration of one another.
But the spell had not been broken, and continued to work its powerful magicks as the twins toyed like kittens in the ribbons, past midnight and into the next morning.
They sprawled, exhausted, in the death-bed, heedless of their grim though lovely surroundings.
Nude, sweat-slick and blissfully complete, they slept as dawn slowly crept over the mountains, golden pools of light flickering through the lattice-work and fluttering silk panels.
Elledan's eyes were covered with the ribbon, wrapped around his head several times by a teasing
Elrohir, whose wrist was bound to Elledan's, their fingers entwined as their legs, matching hair mingling against the moss and silk background. The ribbon tangled around their bodies binding them together eternally, as they had always wished.
When at last they rose, together, and arranged themselves for travel back to Gondor, they were unaware of the changes that had taken place.
Not even Aragorn and Arwen were able to place fingers on the inexplicable changes.
The change was made apparent by the end of Arwen's life, far, far in the future.
Elledan and Elrohir became ghostly legends. They haunted the woods together, vengeful spirits that seemed flesh and blood but couldn't possibly be. No creature moved so fast, hunted with such skill. No elf could match them in their ferocity and passionate protection.
From Rivendell to Fangorn, beyond to Gondor and Rohan, they were sighted, like as to archangels, in the Gondor legends, valkyries to those of Rohan, despite their gender. In Fangorn they were wraiths, terrifying to behold, twin spirits with blazing eyes and hair like the skies at night. And in Rivendell, they were the princes of an abandoned kingdom.
They could not have lived as long as they did, no longer immortal, but even after the queen Arwen retreated to Rivendell to pass into memory, they were whispered to have been in places as far as Mirkwood and Mordor.
They were never seen apart, always as a pair, always clothed in black and trailing violet sashes and ribbons.
To this day, if one listens very carefully in the highest garden in the ruins of Rivendell, one can hear their laughter and smell roses in full bloom.
Fin.