Title: With This Forever

Pairings: Haldir/Legolas, Elrohir/Legolas

Summary: Relationships change over time, some for the better and some for the worst. If you have eternity to live, how do you assess to whom your heart should really belong?

Disclaimer: As much as I want to think – not that I do – that Middle Earth and all its fascinating characters belong to me, they don't. Most thanks go to Tolkien, who thought of all these wonderful things.

Author's Notes:

I've been lurking in this fandom for so many years that I can easily consider it the first thing that I've ever loved. I know how painful it is to read stories that do no justice to the characters, and I hope that this collection of drabbles will not follow that fate. It's much too painful to even imagine. As such, I'd ask for some... patience. I deliberately changed some events to accommodate the story, so bear with me.

To those who have read my other fics, I promise I'll work on them once I'm through with the break I seem to have found myself in. My apologies!

Although this was initially meant to centre on A/L, which seems to be the most dominant slash pairing with Legolas in it, I find that H/L and Elr/L appeal to me more.

Also, I shall be posting two drabbles per week so unless I've been caught up by school work or something, updates will be regular.

Finally, do give feedback. I would love to hear how to improve on my story, and to hear what particular points worked. Thanks!

1: Missing

The battle had left them injured and weary; but they stood with grim determination. Coupled with the blotches of orc blood on their faces and armour, they made a formidable sight, the sons of Elrond. Their quest for revenge was legendary and many who have met them prior to Celebrian's tragedy had difficulty reconciling the serious, deadly brethrenof today to the mischievous, sweet-natured Elves that they once were. Elladan was the eldest, and he gazed at the open field with a preciseness that only came with years-long experience in warfare. Immediately he counted the casualties that they had caused – fifteen – but five had managed to escape. Although he knew that these five would soon wreck havoc on some unfortunate soul's life, he was slightly relieved at the sight of the wandering Elves that they had saved from the band of orcs that chanced upon them.

He looked for his brother, who for a long while remained unseen. During battle, he was certain that except for some small cuts, his brother was generally unhurt. Which meant that his twin was either tending to the wounded (if there were) among the wanderers, or he was gathering carcasses to burn after.

Elrohir Peredhel was doing neither. The younger son of Elrond knelt on the ground, cradling a beautifully-crafted dagger that was left carelessly beside the body of a slain orc. He was familiar with this dagger for it was he who gave it to the owner. But when he could find no trace of the owner, he grew worried. His worry increased tenfold when he spotted a pool of bright red blood nearby and found it to be Elven in origin. There was only one Elf in the vicinity during their ambush, and this Elf was apparently missing.

Elladan was walking towards him and he stood up, a frown on his dirty, handsome face. Noticing the troubled look on his brother's face, Elladan wasted no time in approaching him and gasped at the weapon on Elrohir's hand.

"He's missing," Elrohir tonelessly said. His mind raced, rushing back to the last time he saw their friend.

"He would never have dropped this so thoughtlessly," Elladan agreed. "We must tell Adar about this."

"No!" At Elrohir's outburst, Elladan quieted. But Elrohir was agitated as it was and continued, "We need to look for him. Any minute used to do anything else will be a waste of time used to assure his safety."

"And the company of Elves we have rescued? What do we do with them?"

"The border is nary a day's ride from here. We have scared the orcs enough to keep them away from the road. They will be safe, even without us, brother."

"Elrohir—"

"Please! I must find him."

"I know." At Elladan's obvious defeat, Elrohir could not find in himself to stare at his brother. Instead he glanced away from him, berating himself for his strongly emotional outburst. It was at this point that he noticed the blood trail a few feet away and it was then that he recognized the manner by which it was caused. Whoever had abducted their friend did so by force, and for sure at their friend's expense.

"We will find him," his brother promised. Elrohir nodded, fingering the dagger tightly.

"I intend to."

2: Anger

The binding was tight and it could not be undone. For a brief moment, Legolas pondered about the implication of his predicament. He was bound and he was in a place he could not identify, except that he was in a tent in the middle of somewhere. His captors had obviously trusted their handiwork for they stayed outside by the warmth of the campfire. But Legolas was not to be intimidated. He was not completely unarmed since they have yet to find the blade he kept in his boot. However, with no idea about his whereabouts, he also did not know where to go to next when he escaped.

Not for the first time, he cursed these ill tidings. They had caught him unaware in the battlefield and snuck up on him while he was gathering arrows. He fought them and had already pushed two away until he felt a rock hit his head. He lost consciousness and found himself here. How they could overwhelm an elf, he could not explain. In fact, he could not even answer why they wanted to seize him in the first place!

"You're awake. Good. I have some questions for you."

The elf squinted in the darkness, trying to look for the owner of the voice. He could make out the silhouette of a man and from the man's accent, he determined that indeed this band of men were unfriendly. At his silence, however, the man smirked and approached him. He was quick enough to freeze.

"You choose silence. How likely of you. But do not test my patience, Elf. I have methods to extract the information I need, and you will not like it."

With a quick blow, the man sent his captive to the ground and felt a sense of satisfaction at the power that he had in his hands. There was strength to be found in the darkness, and he revelled in the anonymity and security it provided. His hatred for his captive's race burned with an intensity, and he was fast in imagining the many ways this elf would suffer. Feeling he was done, the man huffed and walked out. He had time, and he would do more on the morrow.

Legolas' head reeled and his cheek burned with the intensity of the impact. He glared at the man's back angrily. The man would bear the pain of intentionally hitting an elf!

Quick was Legolas, son of Thranduil, to anger. Some say he inherited it from his sire, but he was quick to let go, as well. It made him a dangerous warrior in the field and a respectable figure in the court for he held no grudges. But he was not perfect, and simply the memory of how this man took the liberty to abduct him kept making him furious. He would make this band of men pay, he vowed as he struggled in his binds once more.

This was how he noticed that his belt did not contain his dagger, and finally remembered that he had dropped it earlier when he was fighting these people off. Legolas sighed, anger temporarily forgotten, and wondered if the Peredhil were alright. The twins would have noticed his absence by now for he had accompanied them in their ambush, despite Elrohir's initial protests.

Memory of Elrohir's outburst in the Last Homely House made Legolas smile in spite of his captivity. Surely with Elrohir many leagues away, memories were the only ones that kept the dark at bay, and Legolas found that he missed the other elf with all his heart.

"Ai, my dear Elf-knight, if you only know..."