Notes:

Cûlanthûl: The bow that Celeborn gave Elrohir as a gift for Legolas.

Tsaruf-Zhakad: the Permitted Knowledge

Vinariber-zâram: Means generally Wind over Water

Mêgarêsh: as near as dammit to Banished/exile

Ziram-khazar-gûthrim: the blue fire along the Ale Gezên-aozh, the knives given to Legolas by Gimli that glow blue when evil is present.

Apologies- 6 weeks since I posted. Life has been a bit busy-family as well as work but hoping to finish this fic before the New Year. One more after this I think.

BETA: Fabulous Anarithilen. Thank you my dear!

Chapter 61: The Reckoning

Gimli was sitting in the chair working on his latest project: new gates for the city. He was pleased with the design that was carefully scribed on the wax tablet, the White Tree and Seven stars; but there was, if you looked closely, an axe and bow, and one might even think a pipe was there amongst the twining branches of the tree. The Hobbits were cooing over the kittens, when Pippin drew back and coughed lightly. They all turned their heads in the direction of his meaningful, and unsubtle gaze.

Legolas was in the doorway of the kitchen and pulling on his boots. He glanced up. His face was still bruised and he still looked as though he had been in a fight with Dwalin, Gimli thought.

'I am going to the Palace,' he explained.

A smile softened his face and Gimli humphed. Clearly it was not the Palace he was visiting but Elrohir. And Gimli had not quite forgiven Elrohir for any of it. It was too soon, only a few days since Gimli had found Legolas amidst the rubble of Bearos' house and clinging to Elrohir like he was wreckage. There had still been no explanation for the shuddering of the mountain that brought Bearos' house down around Elrohir and Legolas, nor the terrible hurricane that had blasted the city, causing the sky to darken as if the sun itself had been swallowed. Although there had been reassuring pronouncements from the Palace and Gandalf had been out and about visible and inspiring confidence. Glorfindel too had been striding about the city confidently, and Celeborn. Aragorn had walked through the streets, with Arwen, talking to the citizens and bringing good news about the restoration of the city.

'A natural phenomena,' they explained about the storm. 'Normally only seen in the far North and how strange that there should be this sort of storm in the South.' And, 'Of course in the Northern realms, these strange storms are not exactly commonplace, but not unknown. Those who are well travelled will be able to tell you…' And so on.

Gimli and the Hobbits were not fooled. Legolas was convinced it was connected somehow with the destruction of Khamûl and Gimli was prepared to indulge him for it reinforced the fact that the Ghoul had well and truly gone. Forever.

But neither the hobbits nor Gimli was quite prepared to let Legolas out of their sight for a moment, even so. Now the hobbits darted surreptitious glances at each other and Gimli watched Legolas. He moved better than he had, not quite with the same lightness and grace as was customary but more easily than he had when Gimli found him amongst the rubble of Bearos' house.

'Well, I may as well go with you,' said Gimli, hauling himself out of his chair. He put his wax tablet carefully on the table and threw a silk cloth over it so it would not spoil. Pippin stared at it in fascination for Gimli had not allowed anyone to see it, as it was still 'imperfect'. Making his way to the cloak room, Gimli frowned at his boots which had fallen over in the cloak room, and were slightly clawed at and full of kittens, for nothing would tempt Glaurung from the boots. Scowling indulgently at the little cat, Gimli reached under the bench and pulled out a pair of light boots that Legolas had obtained from some Elf in the Lorien camp as a stop gap while new boots were being made to Gimli's precise and careful specifications. The Dwarf pushed his feet into the light elvish boots, hating the unnatural softness, for they did not enclose his feet with protective steel and thick stiff leather. If he dropped anything in the forge, these would be no protection whatsoever.

'It's a good thing I don't have to sprint over Rohan,' he grumbled as he tied the ridiculously silk-fine laces. Only an Elf would choose such light and frivolous things to put on one's feet. The leather was butter-soft and light, and closed around his feet like hands cupping them in cool water. He almost sighed but remembered he hated them and stamped his feet instead.

Legolas glanced at him. 'I do not need a nursemaid, Nana Gimli,' he said lightly.

Gimli gave a sardonic grunt and said, 'Do you think my day and world revolves about you, Legolas? I happen to be going to consult with Aragorn on his new gates anyway.' Gimli gave him a flash of white teeth between the glossy chestnut moustaches. 'But don't think I will let you out of my sight for a second.' His eyes fixed upon Legolas seriously. 'You get into trouble as readily as breathing and I am tired of having to rescue you.'

'Some sights you may wish to avoid,' Legolas said cheekily, and laughed as Gimli did not turn a hair.

'Don't worry about your privacy. I have no wish to play gooseberry. But I will make sure I deliver you to his door and sit outside on guard for the pair of you are one as silly as the other.'

Legolas smiled as if his heart were too full and it moved Gimli; this elf to whom he owed his life many times over, and his loyalty too, had become more precious than gold. 'I will go with you to see Aragorn first,' Legolas said brightly. 'I wish to see if any messages have arrived from our homes. And I want to see how he is doing as King now that Arwen has taken over the running of the kingdom. Do you think he may be free for an adventure or two? I cannot see that you and I are simply going to sit back and retire in a rocking chair and tell stories of our greatness to little dwarflings and children.'

'Hm.' Gimli stroked his beard, now a glossy chestnut silk for he had oils and unguents to his satisfaction and now that the townsfolk of Minas Tirith had found out about his secret vanity, he was plied with all sorts of products and asked to tell people that he wore this beard oil or that balm.

'I think Aragorn would do well to cement his reputation as a great warrior and King by having some skirmishes and so on,' Legolas continued brightly.

Gimli grunted agreement. 'Maybe there are some Easterlings to vanquish. We never did catch that one, what was he called? The one Gandalf and I went after to Umbar.'

'Kustîg,' said Legolas. He paused, leaning against the door jamb of the cloak room, his eyes distant. 'It all began with him, and with poor Arduin. I have yet to find him and tell him all that happened since Ioralas was killed. Do you think Beregond will know where he has gone?'

Gimli stamped his feet into his boots and threw on his leather surcoat that he wore whatever the weather, as a good Dwarf should. 'I will see Beregond while you are… well, whatever it is you intend.' He did not say that he and the Hobbits had agreed to make sure that Elrohir was not possessed or violent or any of the things that Gimli suspected him of being: he knew he could not keep Legolas like a fly in amber, but he just needed to know where the Elf was, who he was with and that that person, whoever he might be, knew that Gimli knew what he had done, how he had done it and why, and that Gimli was onto him if anything should go wrong. …. He found his beard in his mouth and quickly took it out before Legolas noticed.

But Legolas reached out and touched his arm, patting his arm gently and reassuringly.

They walked companionably along the Fourth level avenue as the stall holders and shop keepers were putting out their wares. Many called a good morning to the Heroes of the War and the King's Companions. They were offered all manner of good things as they passed but smiled and nodded and kept on their way. The closer they drew to the Citadel, the fewer shops and fewer offerings, but smiles and nods and greetings they still had, although to Gimli, some of those were more obsequious and flattering. Legolas seemed not to notice and Gimli wondered if that was because he had grown up with it, being Thranduil's son. Of course he had no idea about Legolas' upbringing or Thranduil's determination that his sons would serve and certainly not be arrogant or expect servitude.

They reached the Palace Gates, the porch where not long ago, Gimli had had to fight to gain access to the King. Now all was ordered and peaceful and there were nobles and couriers, messengers and tradesfolk all going about their business under the careful gaze of the Tower Guard. There were a few guardsman with the emblem of the Steward sewn onto their tunics and Legolas cast a wary gaze upon those.

'I do not like the fact that Faramir has his own guards up here,' he muttered to Gimli.

Gimli frowned. 'I have told you over and over that Faramir had nothing to do with your capture. You told me yourself that you never saw him.' He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable protest. 'Yes, I know you say that you HEARD him, but did you really know it was him? He was never in the Tombs. Bearos tricked you.' He glanced at Legolas in concern. 'I have told you that Faramir was a victim of Bearos, not in the same way as you were of course, but Aragorn was ready to execute him. You cannot still think he was somehow Bearos' ally?'

But Legolas' mouth was tight and he did not reply.

Gimli breathed through his nose and wondered how he could change Legolas' mind, but he had enough to do for now; it would have to wait. 'At least try not to be so obvious if he is there,' he said exasperated. 'He tries so hard with you. At least…for Aragorn's sake, be courteous.'

Legolas said nothing and his eyes were hard chips of green ice. It reminded Gimli when they were on the Quest, before Lothlorien and Legolas would look upon him with the same unflinching gaze. Shaking his head, Gimli led the way into the Palace.

Now they were ascending the wide stone steps into the Palace. 'The King is in his study, my lords,' said a guard. 'Shall I show you where he is?'

'No, thank you my good fellow.' Gimli smiled with earth-brown eyes that inspired trust. 'We know the way.' He stamped off through the high marble halls with their grand staircases and through the austere great Hall, with its hard white marble inlaid with obsidian. It was full of people, some richly dressed and with heraldic devices emblazoned on tabards and the sleeves of the ladies' dresses were long and trailing. Their lovely faces turned excitedly towards the pair as they entered.

Gimli nodded with great courtesy and bowed to the ladies as he passed but Legolas barely noticed, though they stared at him in great excitement and anticipation and fluttered their fans as he passed.

'That doesn't look very comfortable,' Legolas observed with a nod at the throne on its plinth.

'It does not. I can't see Aragorn using it much,' added Gimli. He gave a slight bow to the two attendants who flanked the throne.

'All the noble families are here,' said Legolas quietly as they wound their way through the hall, many folk bowing or greeting them. 'But not all these Men here are wealthy, Gimli. Look at their faces- honest working Men they are. Craftsmen?' He stared around himself for there are many working folk in overalls or skilled men in their guild tunics and cloaks.

Grunting in agreement, Gimli answered, 'Yes. They are here for employment. The King's Aqueduct, the repair of the city walls…' He paused and stopped, looking around with some satisfaction at the strong and competent Men he saw. Small huddles of craftsmen were dotted about the hall amongst the great and wealthy, but Gimli could see the use in these Men and understood Arwen's thinking: if she could harness the skill and labour of the smiths and carpenters and crafts folk, the city would get moving, repairs would be made, new houses constructed and the walls made strong and safe. An aqueduct would mean water into every level of the city and this would make the citizens feel prosperous; it would attract trade and build confidence.

Legolas glanced down at the dwarf. 'Don't get distracted, Gimli,' he said warningly. 'We are here to see Aragorn and I see many of these good Men looking at you, thinking to start a conversation…'

Gimli opened his mouth in outrage. 'I am never distracted! A dwarf is focused on his task, is relentless and clear-thinking. Do not think me a muddle-headed Elf who sits in the trees and makes love to a rainbow!'

At that moment, there was a delighted cry. 'My lord!' A tall man with the thick braids of a smith called to him and Gimli turned.

'Dírhael!' he cried in pleasure, ignoring Legolas' repressed sigh. 'What brings you here?' He clasped the Man's thick arm in greeting. Dírhael's face was animated and pleased and Gimli thought how he might share more of the Tsaruf-Zhakad, the Permitted Knowledge, with the Man for he was quick and skillful and wanted to learn.

'There is much work for smiths right now, Lord. I am summoned to help with the aqueduct that will bring water into the city. I think they intend to use steel and iron to carry it but I do not know where they will get so much. We have a limited amount here in Gondor.'

'Ah, well I expect they will be looking to Lamedon. I saw some good ore as we travelled that way.' Gimli stroked his beard contemplatively, not really wishing to recall the journey with the Dead, but the earth was good there and he felt the song and scent of iron. In his mind he was already constructing the blast furnaces that would yield good steel. 'I am designing the new gates. I hope that you will lend me your forge and good smiths again. There is much work to be done.'

Dírhael's face lit up with delight. He put his hand on his chest and inclined his head slightly. 'My lord, I am honoured. I hope to learn more about how to temper steel so it is pliable and strong. I wish…' He cast a look towards Gimli and saw the closed look, the firmly shut mouth and blushed. 'Forgive me master. I am too eager.'

'Pah, I forgive you indeed. I was hot-headed and loose-tongued myself at your age.' It did his dwarvish heart good to be amongst such Men.

Dírhael glanced at him hesitantly and then, as if gathering his courage he drew a neatly folded packet from inside his jerkin pocket. 'I have some designs I was going to show the King if I ever got a chance. They are for the aqueduct.' He began to unfold the packet and began to spread the parchment, holding it out towards the Dwarf. Gimli looked with interest, holding one end so that Dírhael held the other. Elegant strokes of charcoal showed a number of designs, cogs and mechanisms that had Gimli intrigued and excited.

He looked up at Dírhael, pleased. 'Yes. I can see how this would work.' He grunted approvingly. 'This will work.' Already he could see how the system of automated pulleys would help deliver water to the city, and the clever mechanisms and series of locks would deliver it to the highest levels. 'Hm…' Gimli pulled a thin tube that he always carried with him and popped the top, revealing a sharp lead with which he scribbled a delicate few lines that made Dírhael's design elegant as well as functional, and another stroke which solved the problem that Gimli thought was glaring at him angrily.

When he turned around, Legolas was nowhere to be seen.

He swung round, searching and then with a quick excuse to Dírhael and a promise to find him later, Gimli stamped through the marble halls and made his way to Aragorn's study. If Legolas was not there, Gimli thought, he would burst into Elrohir's room and Mahal alone knew what he would find. He stuffed the ends of his beard in his mouth and then, remembering himself, spit them out.

The door of Aragorn's study was slightly ajar and he was waved through by a cheery guard, and there he found Legolas and Aragorn bent over a map and thoroughly absorbed. Gimli grumbled as he joined them but Aragorn's cry of welcome was so warm and happy that Gimli could not help but reach out and clasp the Man warmly, allowing himself to be dragged to the table. Legolas shot him a cheeky grin but before Gimli could speak, Aragorn spread his hand out over the map.

'Lake Evendim!' He stabbed his finger at the very border of the map and Gimli saw that it was the one they had given Aragorn for his wedding gift. The map was clipped open by beautifully crafted weights that Gimli thought were elvish made and his hands itched to weight them, to explore the delicacy of the smithing but Legolas too paused as if they evoked some memory though he did not say what and he too shifted the weights as if he wanted to put something else there instead.

Another map was unrolled and Legolas pulled it towards them, pushing it open and spread it over the map of the quest. 'This is better,' he said and indicated an area north of the Shire. 'Here. See?'

Gimli leaned over it to see that it showed Gondor and Rohan and Mordor. Ithilien was marked in green and there were some odd scribblings upon it. But it also showed Belfalas and Andras, Enedwaith and Cardolan, Arthedain and whole of Eriador, the Northern Kingdom.

'Vinariber-zâram,' Gimli said before he could think.

His two friends glanced at him curiously. 'Is that your name for it?' Legolas asked and his eyes were very bright.

Gimli cursed himself inwardly. Would he never stop blurting out Khuzdul? If he were ever to be found out, he would be mêgarêsh indeed!

'Do you know it?' Aragorn asked, a flush of excitement on his handsome face. He turned back to the map. 'It is where Elendil founded the city of Annuúminas, after the destruction of Numenor. Alas it is ruined now and only the wind blows through its ruins.' He glanced at Gimli with sudden interest. 'Have you been there, Gimli?'

Gimli harrumphed impatiently. 'Of course I have. The road from Ered Luin passes by the Emyn Uial.' He traced the path along the secret ways of the Dwarves, the Khazâd-Nîmez. 'Who would not wish to gaze upon the fairness of Vinariber-zâram?' He sighed, realizing he had given away more secrets, for the dwarvish path was guarded by the Khazâd so that they might keep their trade secret with the Shire and with Harlindon. Indeed, Mithlond too on occasion, although that path did not pass the Emyn Uial…He realised he was chewing his beard again. It was Legolas' fault. The Elf was making him nervous with that bright unwinking gaze that just looked like he knew.

'Well then,' Aragorn declared jovially. 'I think we have a plan.' He looked at Legolas conspiratorially. 'We will accompany the hobbits homewards and then proceed on to Lake Evendim, or Vinareebah-zarâm.'

Gimli winced at Aragorn's pronunciation but he did not correct him. He noticed Legolas watching him and jerked his hand back and away from his beard before he forgot himself and stuffed the ends of his beard in his mouth.

Legolas laughed merrily and if Gimli was annoyed that the Elf had noticed, but too he rejoiced for the brightness and light-heartedness of his dear friend.

'Aragorn is going to progress through his kingdom to show everyone his shiny new crown,' Legolas said mischievously and grinned at Gimli.

'That's a good plan,' Gimli said approvingly and then with studied innocence, he added, 'Did you come up with this on your own?'

'Erestor may have made some suggestions,' Aragorn said, unoffended. 'And Arwen of course.' His face took on a soppy happiness that delighted Gimli.

He patted Aragorn's arm. 'Of course she did.'

'We cannot come with you for this one though,' Legolas said with a sigh. 'Gimli has promised to travel through Fangorn with me.' Gimli cursed inwardly for he had hoped that in all the excitement Legolas may have forgotten about that little deal. But Legolas continued unaware, 'And even your company and that of the hobbits cannot still the yearning I have in my heart for home.'

'I am not quite done with adventure though,' Gimli said quickly for he had seen how Aragorn's face fell and the Dwarf was torn for he wished to please both of his friends. 'For Eomer has promised me the lordship of Anglarond and so I will return bringing some of my folk there should the King allow it.'

A small twitch of his head was all that gave away Legolas' surprise. Gimli swore at himself inwardly; this was not the way to break the news of his own removal to far away Anglarond. Only now did he realize that perhaps Legolas had assumed that he might see Gimli regularly, go hunting, travelling together, and the news that Gimli would not be in Erebor had come as a shock to the Elf, still fragile.

'Will you not be travelling with Elrohir, maybe settle in Rivendell?' he asked gently. Legolas' eyes skipped away as if the Elf was suddenly unsure of himself, unsure of Elrohir too.

'No. It had not even occurred to me,' Legolas said and his fair face was suddenly troubled. Gimli wondered if he and Elrohir had even discussed what they might do now that the quest was over, wondering what they would do with themselves now that their occupation a warriors was no longer really needed. He glanced at the Elf. Legolas looked beyond them, his eyes a little unfocused.

'I cannot live in Imladris,' he said quickly. 'It will never be home. And I cannot rest under the Greenwood again,' he said distantly. 'She was right. The Sea calls me, quietly insistent. And I think it will not ease.'

Aragorn gave a muffled cry but Legolas looked at him and smiled. 'No. I do not grieve, Aragorn. It is a joy and a trouble to my heart. But I think…' he glanced away, 'I think it may be a comfort to me. In time.'

'Then you are not going anywhere for a while?' Aragorn asked with an expression of utter relief.

Legolas gave a smile but it seemed to Gimli, that there was a sadness in it too. 'No. You will not see me board any grey ship, nor sail across the Sea.'

The cryptic tone of his voice was entirely elvish and Gimli was about the challenge it, but before he could speak, there was a discreet knock on the door and the fat little clerk that Gimli remembered as Aradhel, peered around the door. When he saw who was with the King, his face broke into a wide smile and he bustled in, bowing low.

'My lords. It is so very good to see you.' He rubbed his chubby hands that had a n ink stain on his left hand. 'Forgive me for interrupting you. I did not realize that such heroes of the war were here.'

Gimli beamed and nudged Legolas in the ribs. 'That's me he's talking to.' Legolas merely lifted an eyebrow.

Aradhel turned his face up to Aragorn. 'Your majesty, the Queen asks that you might join her so she can apprise you of the progress of certain projects and decide how you wish to proceed on various matters.'

Legolas gave Aragorn an oblique smile and Gimli nudged him, grinning, for Aragorn's face had lit up at the invitation and a look of intense softness was in his eyes.

'Gimli, will you look at some of these plans too?' Aragorn asked suddenly. 'There are a great many engineering projects and I think Arwen would consider herself blessed to have your advice. Legolas, you had better come too,' he added with a steely look.

But Legolas grinned and shook his head. 'I have another engagement. But fear not, I swear to you both that I intend only to run up the staircase bannister and swing from the balcony, run across the roofs and ….' He stopped and laughed at their faces. 'I go to Elrohir,' he said appeasingly. Aragorn's face relaxed but Gimli looked at him sternly.

'I will come to fetch you if I have not seen you within two hours. You are not to go anywhere else.'

'Yes, Nana Gimli,' Legolas said with feigned meekness.

'I mean it,' Gimli said sternly. 'I will not hesitate to burst in upon you and interrupt whatever you might be up to.'

0o0o

Legolas leapt up the wide steps as if he had wings on his feet. Khamûl was gone. Gone. Had Legolas not been in the Houses of Healing, he would have belted out the Wood battle cry, a ululation of violence and victory. The weight in his chest had lifted and he felt light and free. The Song in his heart filled him with joy and yearning, and he listened for Elrohir's own Song, which reminded him of the cry of eagles in the clear crisp sky above mountains.

Elrohir was in the Houses of Healing once more, and had been moved to rooms closer to his father rather than the apartments he had had in the Palace. Legolas was glad he did not have to return to the old room, where there was a rust-coloured stain on the floor and long scratches in the floorboards like something had been trying to get out. He leapt up six steps at a time to the astonished concern of the maids and healers whom he passed with a quick wave and merry smile.

He wanted to sweep in and surprise Elrohir, seize him and kiss him until he gasped for air, and then…oh, then! He grinned irrepressibly, feeling his own confidence return and his cock bobbed and bulged hopefully.

He remembered the first time he had ever seen Elrohir…

It had been the evening of the Council of Elrond and Legolas had been on his way to the famed Hall of Fire. There was a long window facing West at the end of the passage and the sun had flooded through, blinding him. He had walked hesitantly eastwards towards the wide stone staircase that swirled around and down towards the Hall of Fire when he thought the air shifted and the Song had changed. He had felt his blood thrum and his heart suddenly pounded in his chest.

His feet had faltered and he had stopped, leaning against the cold stone.

Was there the scent of snow, clean and cold on the mountains? And high, high above, he had thought he heard an eagle cry... a deep rhythm had pounded in his veins, drums beating like a heart, a strong heart, noble, and a crimson light had flooded the air around him. Warmth and heat had caressed him.

He had turned back towards the setting sun and lifted his head to stare at a warrior who strode towards him it seemed out of the setting sun - long raven-black hair like silk worn loose and flowing. The warrior was tall, broad shouldered, a swordsman not an archer, light on his feet and clad in black leather close to his skin. His grey eyes had stared straight ahead as if he barely registered Legolas, simply striding past. But the light, the air, had surged about Legolas like crimson power had enveloped him. Time had slowed as if Destiny approached...and passed. Legolas had turned, lips parted and eyes wide. The crimson power had surged around him, had left Legolas breathless and limp.

The warrior had turned his head after he had passed as if Legolas had called to him, and his eyes were wide and starlit grey. He had stared but he had not stopped, and he had turned away again.

Legolas remembered how he had reached out to steady himself against the stone sill of the window and leaned his forehead against the cold wall, breathing hard. He had turned then, and taken a step after the glorious figure, but then he had paused, wondering what would he say? What would he do if the warrior paused and listened?

Legolas had lost his nerve then but he had never lost that image of power striding down the halls of Imladris.

Elrohir had suffered terribly, for him, he knew, giving himself up to Khamûl in order to free Legolas. And only by cutting off the Ring, maiming him, had Legolas been able to free his beloved. And although Elrohir had hoped his father would have been able to heal him somehow, Elrond was unable to do anything more, and so Elrohir could only learn to live with his mutilation.

The door to Elrohir's room was firmly shut, as if he did not want visitors or intruders upon his privacy, and it seemed as stark and cold as that first encounter when he had ignored Legolas.

Legolas faltered.

He leaned against the door, head bowed and listening. Then he knocked twice upon it.

At first there was no answer, but then he heard a shuffling within and then silence. At last, as if with great weariness, Elrohir's voice came. 'Come, Tanith. I have it ready.'

Tanith? That was the name of one of the healers, thought Legolas, anxious as he opened the door. But he knew that Elrohir must be in demand as a healer, as was Elladan and, of course, Elrond.

When he opened the door, Elrohir was standing before a small cabinet with his back to Legolas. A finely woven black tunic showed his broad shoulders but it was plain and, apart from a thread of crimson along the cuffs, unadorned for Elrohir had no vanity. His injured hand was bandaged closely and held in a sling across his chest. The doors of the cabinet stood open with an array of sharp glittering steel instruments, scissors, scalpels, needles, and three wide-blown bottles standing in a row. Their colours glowed vividly in the light, gold athelas, amber uilos and emerald green sere-vanda. More glass bottles were clustered upon a long chest of drawers where a larger, delicately blown glass bottle stood containing rich crimson liquid. Elrohir was looking downwards at the bottle and the crimson light reflected gently upon his face.

'I think this will ease your patient,' he was saying as he turned towards Legolas. When Elrohir looked up towards his guest, his face changed, shone. 'Legolas!' he exclaimed.

Legolas strode forwards and wound his arms around Elrohir's neck, kissed him tenderly. Then gently, he lifted the wounded hand and brought it to his lips. Very lightly, his lips brushed the bandaged knuckles. 'Forgive me for this,' he said.

'Forgive you? I have already told you, there is nothing to forgive,' Elrohir replied quietly. He looked away quickly as if he were ashamed. 'It is my penance. The least thing I have to give.'

Legolas saw how bleak was Elrohir's face as he recalled Khamûl's possession. Gently Legolas lay his cheek against Elrohir's shoulder. 'Penance? For saving me over and over?' He laughed softly. 'I think not. But had I not had Aícanaro, it would be a different tale indeed.' He glanced about and could not see the sword. 'Where is Aícanaro?' he asked.

'I gave it to Celeborn.'

Legolas lifted his eyes to Elrohir's in astonishment. 'As weregild for Cûlanthûl?' He could not think of any other reason why Celeborn would want the black-bladed sword, Legolas himself had always been wary of its sentience and cold regard but he was grateful now for its strange properties and would not be without it, for it seemed to guard Elrohir.

Elrohir shook his head wearily. 'No. Aícanaro is gone. Forever.'

Legolas pulled back to look at Elrohir. 'Gone? But how can that be?'

Elrohir glanced at Legolas cautiously, as if weighing up a choice. Then he said slowly, 'My grandfather took Aícanaro to the Tower, where the Mirror was being guarded.'

'No!' Legolas was appalled. 'After all that we have done, after all you suffered to keep the blade from the Mirror? What is wrong with him?' He pulled away from Elrohir.

'The Three had made a terrible rift between the world and the Dark,' Elrohir continued. His dark eyes were fastened upon Legolas' face, watching him anxiously now. 'I know not how but Glorfindel says that the storm above the city was the Dark opening into the world. I suspect there is more to tell but they will not speak of it to either Elladan or I,' he said with an edge of bitterness. 'But Glorfindel also told me that Celeborn gave Aícanaro to Galadriel to close the breach.' He paused and Legolas stared aghast. 'I know not how this was done but apparently Maedhros appeared and helped them from the other side of the Glass. Glorfindel said that it was the same as happened in Phellanthir. Well, Galadriel gave Aícanaro to Maedhros as a weapon against the Dark and then Erestor and Mithrandir closed the Glass. It is harmless now they say.'

Horrified, Legolas burst out, 'Aícanaro is now on the other side of the Mirror? How do they know that this is not some trick by the Nazgûl? Or, if it is truly Maedhros, as Glorfindel believes? How do they trust that the Nazgûl will not wrest it from him? They needed Aícanaro to break the Glass so they could return!' He was shocked by his own fear, how it lurched in his belly and made his heart pound in his chest. And then he grew more frightened. Was this yet another trick? Slowly he looked up at Elrohir, searching his face for signs of shadow, for the Ghoul, waiting to find the clogging darkness creeping over him…

Instinctively, he brushed his fingers over the hilts of the Ale-Gezên-aozh, listened to their sharp little whispers because he had been wrong before, but there was no rill of blue lightning to show the presence of evil, no Ghoul. He saw Elrohir watching and knew that he had guessed that Legolas had doubted him.

Closing his eyes, Legolas shook his head as if he could undo his action. 'Do not judge me harshly, I beg you. I did not think…' He did not add, I had to know for sure.

Elrohir did not challenge him. Instead he limped heavily towards the window and away from Legolas. 'I cannot blame you.' Staring miserably across the garden, he gave a sigh that seemed to come from deep within, as if all the weight of his soul were drawn up through it. 'Last time, I was possessed by Khamûl and pretended I was not. I would have… I would have done you great harm had you not freed me.' He could barely speak the words.

Legolas reached out in grief, but Elrohir shied away, his broad shoulders hunched as if ready for a blow.

Legolas trailed his fingers over his brow and a deep hole seemed to open in his chest for he could see that he might still lose Elrohir to his guilt and recrimination, his grief. 'But you did not,' Legolas said at last. He moved to stand behind Elrohir and leaned his head against Elrohir's back, his arms encircling the tensed body. 'You came for me when I thought all was lost. You took Khamûl so that you could find me, so you could save me.' He felt Elrohir's breathing in time with his, the strong heart beating. His cheek was against the warmth of Elrohir's back, he closed his eyes and listened to the clear harmony of Elrohir's Song: the wind carving the pristine snow on the high peaks of mountains…an eagle's piercing cry.

Elrohir half turned his head so Legolas could see his handsome profile, but his eyes were still downcast, ashamed. 'I have a darkness in me that Angmar knew, that calls to the shadow. How can you trust me when I have done as I have? All that I have done. And how can I blame you for touching the Ale-Gezên-aozh to check that I am not a wraith?'

It was the question that tormented him too. But he knew as well that life without Elrohir was like life without warmth, without beauty or without the Song. And that was the answer to his own question.

'I thought I would never see you again,' Legolas said softly. 'I thought Khamûl had taken you so completely I had lost you.' He moved in front of Elrohir and placed his hand on the other's face, cupped his cheek. 'But I came to find you. As I told you on the Cormallen fields,' he said, with all of his love, all his adoration. 'I will always search for you, everywhere, just to hear your voice. I will walk through fire and flood, I will find you though you be at the ends of the earth or the depths of the Sea… And I will guard you from the darkness in you.'

Elrohir's grey eyes flicked up to Legolas' and away again quickly, but not before Legolas saw the desperate hope.

'Whether you sail the Sea, or if somehow you find Mandos' Halls, I will follow,' Legolas continued softly, his eyes fixed upon Elrohir's averted face, willing him to look up. 'If you remain here in Middle earth for all the long days of your life until you fade and are but a shadow in the woods, then I will be your shadow.' He placed his hands on either side of Elrohir's face, but Elrohir kept his eyes downcast. 'I will never leave you. Say that you are mine and mine only. Forever.' Legolas pulled Elrohir towards him. He knew there was a note of pleading in his voice that was unfamiliar but he had never felt like this.

Elrohir was suddenly looking at him in wonder, his pupils blown wide with desire and his lips parted in a gasp. 'Can you really want me, after all this? Flawed and imperfect as I am? I dreamed of you! Do you understand? I dreamed and there you were!'

Legolas lifted his hand to Elrohir's face. 'It was not your dream, but the dream seeded by Angmar in Phellanthir to deceive you. You did not leave me there though I begged you to run. You did not abandon me, you came for me in spite of everything. You risked yourself over and over,' Legolas said earnestly and watched Elrohir flinch slightly. But this time he would not be turned away, this time he would say all there was to say, make Elrohir listen as he had not done before. 'I have never felt like this about anyone. Ever. I swear to you. I have loved.' Legolas caught at Elrohir as he tried to turn away, as if to escape the truth of what was coming. But Legolas was determined he would be heard now. 'Listen to me, Elrohir,' he said quickly. 'Some of those I have loved are close to you in heart.' He saw how Elrohir shied away but he held onto him, clasped his arms and cradled his hurt. 'Neither of us are untried or innocent. But I have never felt like this.' He spoke emphatically, pressing his Song against Elrohir's so he could feel the veracity, the truth of it. 'I want to be with you forever.'

Elrohir turned his gaze towards Legolas in desperate hope that almost hurt Legolas physically to see.

'I want to be with you. Forever,' Legolas repeated with conviction. 'I do not want anyone else in my life. I only want you.'

He kissed Elrohir then, sweetly, then deeply, before Elrohir could speak. And at last, crimson power enveloped Legolas like a fur cloak on a winter-bright morning where the cold turned the breath to frost.

'No more talking, just be with me,' Legolas murmured, instead he let the tenderness in his heart speak in his actions, in the quiet intensity of his passion. He pulled Elrohir's shirt loose from his breeches and slid his hands over the broad, muscled chest, feeling the soothing peace of pressing against him. It was like coming home: his scent, the feel of him. Legolas breathed in, pressing his face against Elrohir's shoulder, careful of the maimed hand. His fingers touched Elrohir's lips, remembering the blistering kisses, the demanding hands upon him.

'Lie down,' he said breathlessly, stroking Elrohir with his gaze. 'Lie down and let me look at you.' With careful, eager fingers, he slid Elrohir's shirt from beneath the sling and slipped it off so he stood half-naked, his muscled torso sculpted by long years as swordsman and warrior. 'Do you love me as I love you?'

Wordlessly Elrohir nodded, his mouth moved but there was no sound, as if there were no words sufficient for what he wanted to say in that moment.

'I told you to run,' Legolas murmured, brushing his fingers over Elrohir's chest, his peaked nipples. 'I told you to leave and you wouldn't. In the cell. I tried to tell you to go…and you would not.' He kissed where his fingers had been, long, slow kisses. Then he murmured against Elrohir's chest, 'Because you love me…'

'Because I love you more than life itself,' Elrohir whispered breathlessly. His eyes were full of adoration and he touched Legolas with reverence.

'You could not bear to leave me…because you cannot endure life without me.' Legolas smiled, a little smugly and tugged Elrohir's breeches from his waist, peeled them from him.

'I cannot. I would rather Khamûl had devoured my soul than harm one hair upon your head.'

Legolas pressed his lips against Elrohir's belly and inhaled deeply. 'Fool! I do not know why loving me has to lead you to such peril but it seems that it does.'

Elrohir gasped as Legolas licked from his nipples to his navel and then asked breathily, 'Do you think this will always be the way of it? Or do you think we might have some peace?'

Legolas mused for a while, crossing his arms over Elrohir's belly and resting his chin upon them, he looked up at his lover. 'Perhaps for a while we might have some respite. Perhaps the Gods will leave us a while and let us have some time to know each other, to love.'

'I pray that it is so,' Elrohir whispered huskily and brushed his fingers over Legolas' throat.

Legolas shivered at the sudden thrust of desire that filled him and thrilled along every nerve. Elrohir had brushed against that small scar still on Legolas' throat where he had been bitten by Khamûl. It set Legolas on fire with lust and he stopped thinking, shrugged his own shirt off and balled it up, threw it aside and leaned down to kiss Elrohir as he toed off his boots and wriggled out of his breeches. Naked, he gently settled beside Elrohir upon the bed, erect and bursting with lust and then slid downwards so his own torso pressed over Elrohir's thigh. He pushed his hands around Elrohir's hips and nuzzled at his thigh, kissing his belly and then licking the whole length of his cock.

With a moan, Elrohir cupped Legolas' head and Legolas slid his mouth over Elrohir's cock. Salt and musk. Elrohir's own scent ignited him on so he licked and nipped and chewed the hot flesh. He felt Elrohir's good hand slide through his hair and sift it through his fingers. Shivering with unbearable pleasure, he felt his length fill and strain. Fingers touched his face lightly, sent a pounding rhythm through his blood.

Abruptly, an image flashed into his head again: the Ghoul straddling him, grinding against Legolas' chest, it seized him by the hair and dragged him upright, into a sitting position and shoved its hips against Legolas.

No! I will not think of this, he clenched his hands into fists against Elrohir's thigh and forced himself to see the smooth naked thigh of Elrohir, to breathe in HIS scent, clean and spice and musk. He listened to Elrohir's Song, to reassure himself that it was Elrohir he was with and that this was not some cruel trick…

The Song rose about them and to Legolas, it seemed like a green light suffused the air around him, like sunlight filtering through young green beech leaves, and the whisper of wind in the pines, a chuckle of cold streams in mossy forest glades…He breathed in; the scent of pine and mossy pools where clear streams ran, mingled with the salt sea air. He felt that he was known more fully, more certainly than he had ever been before. It was home. The Sea was somewhere, murmuring and soughing but for now, it was a lovely harmony in his own Song, twining about that of Elrohir's.

Elrohir moaned and muttered something that Legolas could not hear but swiftly, with strength that Legolas found unbearably erotic, he pulled Legolas up onto the bed and pressed him down, kissed him hard, hungrily, catching his hands and holding them. Legolas felt a thrill of excitement. Elrohir's weight pinned him, unforgiving and untender but Legolas did not care. He felt Elrohir's hard, flat chest against his, the swollen length pressing into his thigh. He threw his leg over Elrohir's hip and hooked him so close they might be melting together and cupped Elrohir's chin and angled his head for a deeper kiss. Blunt hardness nudged at his own sac and he cried into Elrohir's mouth, tried to tilt his hips so he could plunge down.

A primal instinct took over and he stopped thinking. Raw prickling flickered over his nerves and fired up in his belly, when he gripped the strong arms hard. He pressed his head back into the pillows, lips parted and eyes closed.

'You are beautiful,' he said, panting for his own desire had overwhelmed him. But words had no place in this and he felt the crescendo of passion building in him. Elrohir drove in, deeper and harder and Legolas brought his hand up to cup Elrohir's head and bring it to this throat. He arched suddenly and violently and threw his head back, clasping Elrohir so his hot mouth was on his throat, sharp teeth nipping at the skin. At the mere touch, Legolas' hips thrust convulsively and he cried out.

0o0o

Next chapter is the last one.