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Title: The Rites of Spring one of one
Author: Arctapus
Codes: LOTR, E/L, Part of Fortunate Son series: Fortunate Son, Son Rise, Winter Hearts. PG-ish This continues the story, the coming of spring and its obligations.
Disclaimer is the same. Tolkien owns them. I use them only for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is implied.

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It was just breaking dawn as he stood on the verandah outside his personal rooms, staring out into the gloom of the approaching day. Beyond in the darkness, he could hear the sound of water moving, the rushing energy of it counterpoint to his days and nights. It had been a part of his life for so long, he could scarcely remember other times before it. That in and of itself was a mixed blessing. To not remember every detail from other times unless intentionally sought kept powerful emotions at bay. But it also meant that days often passed without crossing some beloved memory of other times, times when he was happy with those he loved and now sorely missed.

Years had passed before it came to him that he had been alone,
emotionally alone for too long. By then Legolas had inadvertently come into his life and all things were changed. Even though he knew that one day it would come to an end, the youngster having to return to his home once more, Elrond had savored each moment they had together, adding it to his private collection of memories to be revisited again and again when he was alone again.

The valley would be waking up soon enough, the sun taking its time before illuminating its narrow confines. He glanced into the shadows below, noting snow that clung on in the shadows. He could see them there, the harbingers of spring and he smiled. They were always first, hardy crocuses peeking through the crusts of ice that lingered. Their blue flowers were unfolding, the first he had seen this spring and he felt the promise that they were bringing in the air around him. It was warming up and the world would be filled with
life once more.

The forest was stirring, he could hear birds in the trees and around him he could see the movement of his people as they rose to meet another day. This day would pass, all the activities required of a great household being met with skill and precision and he would do his part. He always did his part.

Sighing, he stared at a waterfall illuminated by a ray of sunlight. The droplets that filled the air in its cold spray were sparkling and cast a rainbow into the air. A memory very ancient stirred in his mind and he pushed it away, unwilling to miss his brother on this day, a day that would engender its own painful loss. He stared at the rainbow, the bright hues shimmering in the light and then he looked down again, staring at his hands as they rested on the railing.

Long ago, he had come here seeking refuge for himself and others. At that moment he had picked up a mantle that had been his from birth. He had assumed responsibility and he had carried it out, shouldering manfully all that he had been required to do. For one brief moment he had let down, falling below the strict standards by which he had always held himself and in the doing of it, he had found warmth once again.

It was an accidental thing, an impossible thing and it had caused much hurt all around. Legolas was his responsibility and he had broken his obligation, something that he was loath to do, ever. He was a man of honor, this scion of greatness and he had broken his oath. It still rankled even as he considered that the debt he had owed had been paid.

But it wasn't. Not really.

Elrond was too smart and too decent to consider the debt he owned Thranduil discharged. He had taken a shortcut on the field of honor, conceding victory to him by wounding himself and it had been his triumph in the end, not Thranduil's. The other lord had become the winner by default, something gifted rather than earned and when it happened, the mighty King of Mirkwood had finally lost his son. In the moment of his decision, Elrond had not considered that. He only saw the deep misery on the face of the person he loved and so in
essence he fell on his sword, giving to Thranduil his phyrric victory.

It hadn't been his intention but it was the outcome. He had mused upon it after a matter of time, coming to the conclusion reluctantly. He knew that Thranduil would conclude the same and by doing so, the dissension between them would not be buried. Thranduil was still his foe and he was Thranduil's. Maybe it was written to be so, written in the music of the Lord of All Things and they were both going through their paces as told long before the world was born.

He didn't like that notion. He didn't like the idea that he could not be a part of the outcome of his own life. It would mean his King had to die, that he had to suffer pain and that Thranduil would ever be his enemy. It would mean that all his prayers were for nothing and that all was futile. He wasn't a fatalist even though there were times when hope was hard to come by.

He sighed, watching the water falling and considered sending a prayer of thanks to Ulmo. The water was his link to the haven of his parents and as the words came softly from his lips, he knew they would find their way. The breeze and the birds would take tales to Manwe and all of heaven would hear the cries of Middle Earth. He wondered sometimes if his parents heard him. He wondered if they thought about him even
as he thought about them. They were a very dim light in the back of his mind, something more told of than known. He wondered what they thought of him and his children, of his choices and his fate here in this land he couldn't leave. He wondered if they thought of him at all.

He shook his head, bemused by his morbidity and even as he shook it off, he knew it would be his companion through the summer that would follow. He would be alone again and the thought of it chilled him, bringing back memories of too many sleepless nights. He was back in the shadows again, not by his own choosing but he couldn't ask that it be any different. He had already asked too much already.

A child's voice rang out, some place farther down the valley and he turned to listen, the sound of laughter fading away finally. It was good to hear it, the sound of hope even as he felt the familiar sadness rising in him in spite of his efforts. He would have to cloak it, he considered. His children and his household, his friends and comrades must not pay the price of his weakness. He would not inflict upon them the torment of his heart the way he did before. He would try not to do that again.

He heard a sound behind him, a sound someplace in his rooms and he knew that the only one he needed was going sadly through his own emotional turmoil. He closed his eyes, willing memories to arise and in them he felt a comfort that had eluded him since waking.

Smooth skin, slick with sweat, hot beneath his fingers came to him. Handfuls of silken hair, long legs and tender lips, all of it flowed into his mind and his heart. Strong arms made muscular by work had gripped his body, holding him tightly and he had felt more strong at that moment than he had at the head of armies. Pale skin, smooth skin, perfect ... he could feel it even as he smelled it, the clean scent of his lover filling his senses.

He sighed and looked back, a faint light illuminating the room giving no hint of where inside his lover was. He had awoken first, staring at Legolas lying beside him, his face turned away from view. A cascade of his golden hair spilled over the pillow and he longed to touch it. He didn't. He just stared, memorizing the line of Legolas' body, the curve of his spine and the soft swell of his ass.

He had arisen, walking to the balcony, drawing a robe around himself. It was cold on his feet, standing on the stones but he had to step away to gather himself. He would not show pain. He would show love and fortitude, giving no further burdens to Legolas to carry on his journey. He would rise above his sorrow and be a man about their fate.

He would acquaint himself with sorrow later.

A sound of voices in the courtyard drew his eye and he turned, peering down. Elladan and Elrohir were already there, dressed in gray and awaiting Legolas. They would ride with him toward Mirkwood and then turn away once he reached his father's lands, going south to Lothlorien for a short stay. He knew they were doing this for him, to alleviate his mind. He was grateful to them for it, his wonderful children. Their mother would be proud of them, he considered. It was uncertain to him what Celebrian would think of him.

A figure emerged from the shadows, a tall figure of the utmost familiarity. He knew without looking who it was.

"My Lord ..."

"So much formality on such a morning as this, my old friend," Elrond said, turning his gaze upon Glorfindel. He schooled his face, betraying nothing of his despair and waited, knowing that of all of them, Glorfindel would be the least fooled.

"You are up early."

"There is much to do today. My sons ride toward their grandparents' lands and I am once again bereft of their company."

Glorfindel moved to stand beside Elrond, his face beautiful with the light of day. "Your sons are remarkable youngsters. We do appear to have an abundance of remarkable youngsters in this house these days."

"We do," Elrond agreed, sighing softly. "How could it be, my dear friend, that we could become so old?"

Glorfindel smiled, turning his wise gaze upon the one whom he loved as a son. "It falls to us to be the ones to hold up the tent poles of the world. It falls to us to be the wise among wise. Why else would we have lived this long and learned so much?"

"I don't know sometimes," Elrond said. "I find myself wondering. I am thinking about my family, my mother and father. I am thinking upon Elros and missing him."

Glorfindel nodded, compassion flooding his face. "I miss them all too. You are my family, Elrond, you and them in memory. I think I miss the long gone more each passing day."

"What do you suppose it means?" Elrond asked, a slight smile on his face. He looked at Glorfindel and was ever again filled with gratitude for his presence.

"I don't know," Glorfindel said, squeezing Elrond's arm. "We are old and we have lived. We have lost, you and I, much. There is a reason for all things, Elrond. There is a reason in heaven for all that happens."

"The death of my King ... that I cannot parse. My brother leaving me behind ... my parents. I don't remember them, Glorfindel. That is a tragedy that I cannot think of them and find memories. I find it all going away from me sometimes. I have to stop at that moment and count my bounty. My children are my refuge. And you ... I don't know what I would do without you."

Glorfindel bit his lip a moment and nodded. "And I you, my friend. You are as a son to me."

Elrond sighed, glancing at his companion. "We know the same people, the same sorrows, the same paths. We have traveled them together a long time. I don't know what the future holds but I am glad you are here with me."

Glorfindel nodded, gazing out at the river flowing past. "I think I have been journeying a long time, Elrond. I don't know why I have taken the road that I have but there must be something to the journey. I cannot believe that in the end all of it is futile."

"I would hate that I had no say in the destination," Elrond replied.

"Maybe you don't," Glorfindel said. "I don't remember a lot about heaven. I just know that I was there. No one is supposed to come back, Elrond, but I did. I cannot believe that it was an accident that I did."

"Then it makes me feel somewhat better if it is all written somehow," Elrond replied.

Glorfindel smiled and sighed, staring out once more. "There are rainbows, Elrond."

"I see them," he replied softly. "It is one of the few memories I have of my life before sorrow."

"Rainbows are promises, Elrond." Glorfindel paused and looked at his friend. "How can there be hopelessness in a world where they exist?"

Elrond smiled, nodding. "You raise my spirits. Thank you."

Glorfindel smiled and turned, pausing for a moment. "Don't despair, my friend. It is the coming of spring. Anything is possible in spring."

Elrond nodded and watched as Glorfindel passed down the walkway, disappeared around the bend of the house. He stared after him for a moment and then turned back to the river, staring at the rainbows as they glistened in the sunlight. Behind him, pausing in the doorway, Legolas stood. He was dressed to leave and he waited, drinking in the form of his lover.

"Elrond."

The figure stiffened and then gathered himself, turning with a composed expression on his face. They stared at each other and then the tall Lord of Imladris walked to the doorway, taking Legolas' hand into his. For a moment they stood and then they turned, walking together inside.

In moments Legolas would be gone and he would be alone. Life would continue as he waited, hoping. Elrond would wait in his mountain fastness and hope that fate would return to him the only thing that counted in his heart. It was all he could do now but wait.

**********************c2002 7/19 ***********************
TBC: Solstice Legolas' turn

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