Wow! Well, due to the overwhelming response I received, I'm happy to announce that there will indeed be a sequel!! To tell the truth, I'm very relieved to find out that everyone was interested in me continuing this story arc. I've had so much fun writing this fic that I think I would have been very upset if it had turned out that no one wanted to read any more.
Also, just a bit late for father's day is a very father friendly chapter! (Not to mention that despite computer problems, this is much longer than usual!)
Thanks for all of your reviews. Enjoy!
Landslide
Chapter XII
By NekoMegami_chan
nekomegami_chan@hotmail.com
It was pleasantly warm. He could feel the sun bathing his face and birds chirped somewhere outside. The familiar fragrance of refreshing crushed altheas brought him forward into awareness. A feeling of safety and peace surrounded his aching body and Legolas slowly opened his eyes.
The newly awakened prince was greeted by the friendly countenance of Mithrandir, called Gandalf in the tongue of Men and hobbits. The wizard's beard was tucked neatly into the belt of his white robes and he leaned comfortably against his staff, watching Legolas intently. "Good morning," the wizard said amiably.
Legolas burst into a smile of joy, life flooding into his face. "Good day to you, Mithrandir!" he choked out. The husky catch to his long unused voice startled him and he fell silent.
The wizard gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder. "A pity," he grumbled. "A pity indeed that such a lovely voice as yours should be reduced to the tones of an old man."
"Do not tease him," Erestor chuckled from the next bed. The advisor rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms and back. "How do you feel Legolas?" he asked, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.
"I shall feel better when I have seen Elrohir," the prince replied pointedly.
Mithrandir held a cup of warm, weak tea to his lips and bade him drink. Legolas managed a few thirsty swallows ere the wizard held the mug away. "Slowly! Lest you choke!" he admonished. "Elrond would be quite upset if all of his labors to pull you from Mandos' fingertips proved to be for naught."
Legolas nodded and when the cup was offered again, he sipped carefully. His mind was a tumult of emotions and questions, yet many years' experience with the wizard had taught him not to push for answers.
"It is nearing midmorning,"
Erestor murmured to himself as he moved to check on Thranduil. The king was sleeping
still; his eyes open though the lids were heavy. The blonde had never
participated in a healing before, and it was likely that he would not awaken
for many hours still.
Erestor straightened. He had frequently been like this when he had first begun to aid Elrond. The lord of Imladris had once explained that those who had little or no training often leaked more energy than they channeled into the healer; with the consequence that they accidentally over extended themselves.
Erestor looked around the room. The House of Healing at Imladris consisted of a single open wing of a building. Carefully made beds lined the two long walls. Windows were set at precise intervals to let in as much natural light as possible. The east face of the building looked out onto the gardens and the windows were often opened to the breeze. Running a hand through his hair, Erestor turned back to Legolas.
Mithrandir sat back in his chair. "Glorfindel escorted Elrond to the twin's chambers not long ago."
Legolas opened his mouth to speak. Yet when a bushy white eyebrow rose, the elf subsided. He would have preferred to rise and hobble off to see his beloved, but the weakness and pain in his limbs assured him that he was in no position to do so.
Mithrandir continued seamlessly. "Elrond will allow Elrohir to see you at his discretion. You see young Legolas, whilst you were gallivanting 'round the countryside Elrohir was suffering from grief, and a misplaced and self-inflicted guilt, I might add. He blames himself for your misfortune."
"Grief! Nay, Mithrandir! Pray tell me you spoke in jest!" Legolas gasped, though the wizard's words were ever filled with truth.
Gandalf shook his head, too many times had he been forced to be the bearer of bad news. Ere Legolas could make himself ill with worry, for the wizard knew all too well how fragile the normally virile prince was, he placed a reassuring smile on his weathered face. "I do not. But do not fret so, he will recover. You will be the strength that he leans on as his soul heals, as he will be your crutch while your body mends. Now, I firmly suggest that you take some more rest. When next you wake perhaps he will be here."
"I feel filthy; I can still smell the stench of orc blood mingled with mine. It clings to me. I desire to bathe if only you would call for a chamberlain," Legolas said disdainfully. "I do not want to be reunited with Elrohir smelling like a half-rotted corpse."
Erestor laughed suddenly. "You fought hard enough when dipped beneath the water only last night! When first you arrived your flesh was all but frozen from exposure, and even a tepid bath made you thrash and cry out!"
With the swiftness of a bolt from his own bow, Legolas had a better understanding of at least one event after he had come upon the party from Rivendell the evening before. The half-remembered fire that had raced through his blood had been a mere bath. Yet he could not deny that he still smelled as rank as a bog. "I am no longer cold; all I ask is for some assistance in scrubbing the foulness from my skin and hair."
Erestor shook his head slightly. "Nay, Prince Legolas! I dare not risk my Lord Elrond's wrath should you break so much as a single stitch! However, if it pleases you I will fetch a sponge and warm water scented with lemon with which to bathe your face, chest and arms."
Legolas' lips formed a tight line. "Though severely dislike the idea of being so dependant upon your kindness, Erestor, I gratefully accept." He was already feeling the heavy pull of sleep even as the pain of his injuries grew steadily more prominent.
Mithrandir sensed this and the Istar pressed a gentle hand to Legolas' fair brow. "Sleep," the command carried the weight of a spell and the elf princes' eyes slid shut as he instantly slept deeply.
"Now let us pray that Elrohir fares as well," Erestor sighed as he filled a kettle of water from the large basin of fresh water that was kept in the healing house for just such a purpose, and set it on the hearthstones. He took a few lemon slices from the fruit tray and dropped them into the kettle, steeping them. "What think you, Mithrandir?"
When he received no answer, the advisor turned around to find the wizard gone.
* * *
Elrond took his hand off of Glorfindel's supportive shoulder to rap on the door to the twins' expansive apartments. Elladan's muffled voice bade him enter. With a nod of sincere thanks to Glorfindel, Elrond let himself in and closed the door behind him.
"In here, Father," Elladan called softly from his bedchamber.
The sight that greeted Elrond as he walked through the open door filled him to the brim with fatherly love. Elladan was propped up against the ornate cedar headboard, Elrohir's head pillowed in his lap. Elladan was stroking his brother's hair soothingly and rhythmically, like one might stroke a small dog.
Yet Elrond's heart nearly stopped when he met Elladan's gaze. His son's eyes were red from weeping and his face was resolute. After a short moment of hesitation Elrond shot forward, joining his children on the wide bed. His fingers quickly searched for and found a pulse at Elrohir's throat. To his vast relief the heart beat strongly and the breath that brushed the back of his hand was even and unlaboured.
"You had me frightened!" Elrond sighed. "What troubles you so, my son?"
Elladan met his father's gaze squarely. "You should not have had me drug him!"
Elrond was completely taken aback, but ere he could speak Elladan began again. "Father," he paused, summoning his courage. The words rushed past his mouth almost faster than he could articulate them. "I met Elrohir in my dreams. We were playing on the riverbank when a storm arose. The river became the sea. Father, the cry of the gull – it beckoned to me." Elladan gave Elrond a few moments to ponder the weight of his words and their meaning before he added, "Elrohir read my soul; he foresaw that I would fade ere the years' end if I do not sail. And – he is resolved to accompany me. We will depart as soon as Legolas is fully recovered."
Elladan could not bear to look upon his father's face and he turned instead to Elrohir, absently studying the pale features. "Father, the sea longing is not a new affliction for me. I am sorry for not having sought your confidence. I wished only not to upset you."
"I see," Elrond murmured. He had known this day would come. He would soon be completely alone. Arwen was mortal and destined to live the remainder of her life far from her home at Imladris. His poor wife had long since escaped to the healing peace of the Undying Lands. Now his sons would leave him. Elrond regretted that his position would not allow him to sail with them. It was his duty to remain and oversee the twilight of the elves in Middle Earth. The healer would now be the historian as well.
Wordlessly Elrond clasped his children to him though Elrohir did not stir. His care and blessings were conveyed by the intensity of his embrace. Even the sleeping twin smiled in mute acceptance of his father's love.
"Thank you father," Elladan whispered, "for understanding. Have strength and you will join us ere you are aware time has passed."
"I pray to the Valar it will be as you say," Elrond sighed.
* * *
Thranduil watched Legolas resting in the next bed. His son's golden mane lay splayed over the linen pillow. His ashen skin had finally regained some of its former glow. With as much as he generally disliked Elrond, Thranduil was wholly pleased with the healer's efforts. Though of course, the success of the entire endeavor had without a doubt been hinged upon his own contributions. From the heaviness and exhaustion that continued to plague him, he must have given his son a huge portion of his life force. It frightened him that he had nearly lost his youngest child and the dearest to his hardened heart.
Gazing upon Legolas, Thranduil found himself wishing for a time without measure that his son had chosen to marry and give him grandchildren. Or at least that he had forced the prince to marry soon after his majority. Yet he had not, too many other things had forced his attention to stray from his young son – pressing concerns that overshadowed that particular necessity.
Even two hundred years ago he might have had a chance to sway Legolas' mind. And now he was in love with another male. To show a casual interest in one's comrade or friend before one reached the age of maturity was admissible, such strong relationships often proved beneficial on the battlefield. To know a friend was as vital to success and survival as to know an enemy.
Yet to desire to lay with the son of Elrond Preredhil was beyond shameful! Though Elrohir and Legolas had not yet had the audacity to consummate their relationship – for to do so was as marriage for an elf – he knew that they would at the next possible opportunity.
Frustrated, Thranduil picked at the fruit on the table in search of the best remaining morsels. It was several hours old and had lost some of its flavor. Yet no maid had been by to bring a fresh tray. His ire was quickly redirected at the wilted food. Such laziness on the part of servants would ever have been tolerated in his household. Perhaps the elves in Elrond's service held little respect for their lord? He thought it likely.
Feeling the attention of another upon him, Thranduil raised his head. He noticed that the advisor known as Erestor had set aside the stack of parchment he had been reading from the armchair near the hearth. "Yes?" the king inquired curtly.
"Many pardons, King Thranduil," Erestor inclined his head disarmingly, yet with no hint of submission. "I was only admiring the similarities between yourself and prince Legolas. They are quite numerous, though I am swayed to think that he carries much of his mother's charm and manner."
"How impertinent!" Thranduil shouted, throwing off his lethargy and leaping to his feet. When Erestor did not so much as part his lips to apologize, he grunted angrily and swept from the room, ere his temper got the better of him.
* * *
When Elrohir entered the house of healing it was late afternoon. The sun shone weakly through the heavy clouds and a light, dry snow fell. All of the windows in the long room had been closed and the shades drawn. Tapers lined the walls and the hearths where lit, casting a warm glow. Erestor had removed Thranduil to his guest quarters and the advisor excused himself quickly when Elrond and his sons arrived, taking Glorfindel with him.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as soon as his eyes met Legolas' from across the room. The loving words he had prepared fled him at it was all he could manage was a choked, "Hello."
Legolas watched as Elrohir disentangled himself from his family and took a few steps towards him. Elrohir was resplendent. The raven hair was completely unbound and combed straight; a perfect frame for the pale high cheekbones and wide, expressive mouth. Elrohir's body, as lean and powerful as a stag's, was clad in a deep blue robe with white trim left open at the neck. Legolas fell in love anew. "Well met, Elrohir. Please pardon my lateness; I was unavoidably detained."
Ere Legolas could remark further, Elrohir had covered the remaining distance between them. The kiss was brief yet when they parted Legolas was remained in the silken tent created by Elrohir's hair cascading down around him, the other's hot tears falling like rain onto the prince's upturned face. "It is I who needs be pardoned."
"Did you not receive my reply letter?" Legolas asked.
"I did," Elrohir whispered, swallowing his tears.
Legolas cleared his throat and quoted. "All was forgiven, dear heart, ere the words left your lips. But, there is time enough for that later, my love."
"Yes, of course," and then their mouths met once more.
* * *
Hey everyone! Thanks for reading and please review, okay? Next is the epilogue, so watch out for it in the next few days or so.
Also, I'm interested in finding out the general demographics of my audience. If no one minds, could you please tell me your gender and age? I'm just curious to know who I'm writing for and it may affect what I write in the future. Thanks!
