Title – Golden
Authoress – Phoenix Tears
Summary – 'I nod when I see you, and envelope you in a warm embrace. The embrace of a friend, you think. The embrace of a lover, I wish.'
Authoress' Note – Uhmm… the pairing is Legolas/Haldir, one of my favourite pairings. I had written an angsty L/H fic, but it turned out with a sad ending… So I decided to put my two favourite elves together again! ^______^;;
Rating – PG13
Warning – Slash. Don't like – don't read.
Disclaimer – I own nothing, except for this plot. Everything else belongs to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien.
Feedback – Of course, as for every writer, questions, thoughts, and constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy.
The strands of your hair are like white amber in the dazzling, midday sun – shining, rippling, lovely.
The glow of your skin shines like the brilliant stars under the eaves of Lórien – radiant, beautiful, ethereal.
The music of your sonorous voice is like lembas coated with thick, sweet honey – addictive, lilting, flowing.
Tis no wonder they call you the Golden Treasure of Mirkwood, Legolas.
You ride into Lórien with your father's royal entourage. Ah, the revered and respected King Thranduil of Northern Mirkwood has come to grace the Golden Wood with his presence. He insists on bringing nearly one hundred elves with him, on a simple diplomatic visit.
Your eldest brother, Ardamil, smiles politely and rides at your father's right side.
You ride at your father's left side, face lit up in amazement and interest.
While the meetings take place, you sit by your father and Ardamil, flanked between them protectively. They have much reason to be protective of you, the youngest prince and jewel of Mirkwood, I can see.
I sit at my usual spot to the right of Lord Celeborn, as the esteemed Captain of the Galadhrim. I focus my eyes on the ground, not trusting them.
The meetings take forever, and I am thankful when they are over.
Lady Galadriel asks me, with a twinkle in her kind, ageless blue eyes, to show you around the Golden Wood.
Oh, how I could die.
You beam and, happy to be away from politics and treaties, rise gracefully from your seat to walk beside me.
I take you through the woods, showing you the talans and trees and different plants. You are fascinated, blue eyes alight with a beautiful sparkle.
I bring you to the stables, letting you pet the horses and brush their manes. You ask to ride around the wood, and I, already unable to refuse you anything, allow you to.
Maidens giggle and blush when we walk past them, ducking their faces demurely over their sewing and embroidery. The patrol guards and Galadhrim steal furtive glances toward you when I show you the weapons and ways of the Lothlorien guard.
You flush slightly when you notice the glances, and are eager to return to my side and to go to your chambers.
For the next few days, you spend time with my brothers and I. I am amazed at your talent with the bow; it is a gift sent from the Valar, you tell me modestly.
Your hand with the sword, however, needs improving, and I teach you daily. By the time two weeks are over, you, an eager learner, are as good as one of the Galadhrim.
You leave, and my heart goes with you.
Over the hundreds of years, you visit the Golden Wood occasionally. Your fair face lights up with the same admiration it did long ago for the splendour of Lórien, and you smile when you see me.
I nod when I see you, and envelope you in a warm embrace.
The embrace of a friend, you think.
The embrace of a lover, I wish.
Many years later, you arrive with the Fellowship of the Ring. Among your company is a dwarf. Gimli, son of Glóin, is his name. Your friend he may be, but a dwarf he is as well. And dwarves are not welcome in the Golden Wood.
Through your convincing and Aragorn's insistence, he is allowed into Lórien. But you must be blindfolded, and your indignation shows clearly.
I nearly laugh, but reassure you and tie the silken blindfold around your head, letting my hand brush your mane of golden hair casually.
By day, you run once again with the Galadhrim, leaving your Fellowship to their mourning. By night, you sing and dance with our elven folk, graceful and lively as you were when you first passed through the eaves of Lothlorien.
But one night, you are not present at the evening dinner.
I walk silently through the trees; my grey cloak and tunic letting me blend into the night perfectly. As I near the grounds where the Fellowship is staying, I hear voices.
One is your voice, I am sure.
The other is Aragorn's.
Please, Estel, I beg of you. Give me this one thing!
Nay, Legolas, I cannot. I will not.
I have seen the way you look at me, Estel! Do not deny it.
I do not deny anything.
My heart stops.
Legolas has found a place in his heart – the place he holds in mine – for Aragorn.
I have seen the way everyone in Middle Earth looks at me – like some prize to be claimed, some pretty trophy to be had – do not deny you want me, Estel.
That is why I will not, my friend. You are much more to me that a pretty prince to be had. You are one of my greatest companions and friends, Legolas, and I will not have our friendship ruined because of passion!
I will die if I do not let it out!
A tense pause.
My beautiful Evenstar, Arwen… Legolas, you know how much I love her.
She would understand. She knows of the troubles of my heart.
Why are you doing this, Legolas? Moreover, with me? I am a mere mortal; an elf of Lórien would be glad to appease your desire.
You are closer to me than any Lórien elf –
He has thrown away our hundreds of years of friendship for this man, this mortal!
It is a killing blow to my heart.
- save the one I desire
The one he desires…
Why do you not tell him, Legolas? Why do you not show your love for him?
Haldir would not understand! We have been friends of hundreds of years, Estel… If I suddenly showed my passion and desire for him, do you not think he would be taken aback? Repulsed, even?
Oh, Valar above.
I have been attracted to him ever since atar and Ardamil took me with them here, on a diplomatic visit. He brought me around Lórien, and even then, I saw the way the other elves looked at me. He did not look at me like some prize to be claimed, Estel! He looked at me with brotherly affection and friendship. He spent every hour of my visits by my side, showing me new things, introducing me to new people. He is a true friend, Estel, and what we have – however insufficient it is for me – will break if I make advances.
You are blind, Legolas. You are blinded by your assumptions! Can you not see? Haldir would not spend every hour of your visits by your side if he did not love you. He would not have taken you under his wing and showed you the ways of the Galadhrim if he did not feel the way you feel about him.
I am only a friend to him, Estel.
I hear a muffled sob mixed in with the angry, choked words.
Nay, Legolas. I am Haldir's friend, Elladan and Elrohir and Haldir's friends, but none of us have experienced the feelings and attentions he shows for you. He loves you, can you not see? You are not a mere friend to him.
Please, Legolas, do not think wrongly of me…
When I look at him, I feel like the sun will shine forever, that the niphredil will always remain silver and the elanor always golden. My heart feels like – oh, Estel, it feels so complete and wonderful, like I'm soaring above the woods, like I've just run the whole length of Mirkwood and listened to them whisper tales of all the ages to me. My heart starts racing wildly whenever he's around, Estel, that's how much I desire and want him!
You're in love, Legolas. That is what it feels like to be in love. It's not just passion or want. I can't help you, mellon-amin. You will have to talk to Haldir yourself.
Hal – Haldir?
A twist of hands behind an intricately sewn forest green tunic, made of the softest material by the finest tailors in Mirkwood.
Legolas.
A grip of fingers upon a white oak bow, knuckles nearly as white as the wood they are holding.
I've come to say farewell. The Fellowship is leaving tomorrow noon, and I – I wanted to see you before we left.
I put on my arrogant smile and force a mask in front of my emotions.
Perhaps by the next time you pass through the Golden Wood you shall be able to best me in swordsmanship, no?
You avert your gaze, blue eyes nervous.
I have only this one chance.
No longer will I hide behind my façade and pretend my feelings for you are brotherly. No longer will I suffer this pain.
Is there something you need to tell me, Legolas?
I clasp both your shoulders tightly and force you to look at me. Your sapphire eyes – oh, so beautiful in their ocean hue – meet my own silver grey ones.
Yes.
Slender arms snake around my neck and pull me gently towards you. Your head tilts and lips meet mine, a wet tongue flicking out hesitantly against my mouth.
Mmm…
A murmur against lips.
Haldir…
I pull you towards a secluded glade hidden by a curtain of vines and press you up against a tree, tearing off your tunic, nibbling lightly at your graceful collarbone.
You're so beautiful, Legolas.
A throaty moan, and your body arches like a swan against me.
As are you, lirimaer.
Before the night is over, we will have danced the most beautiful of dances, passion.
Sung the most exquisite of songs, lust.
Tasted the sweetest of ambrosias, desire.
Before the night is over, we will have been bathed in the most beautiful of lights, love.
When the first lavender rays of the sun spill through the leaves and fall across the glade, we are bathed in a soft light.
I look at your body and see the sticky, salty remnants of our passion still upon your limbs, legs curled around mine, one arm flung out on the ground, the other twisted in my silver hair.
I look at your face and see that you are awake, blue eyes large and sated and content, lips red and curved into a gentle smile.
I love you, Haldir.
And as golden as your hair and voice and skin may be, your smile and love is still more golden yet.
Authoress' Note: Bler… My computer has just decided to go berserk on me and make all the files I had open – quite a lot, including one of my school summer assignments – Read-Only. Now I am in the process of copying everything to separate documents and saving them under new names… Grr.
Hantalë, ar tenna enomentiëlva, namárië.
Thank you, and until we meet again, farewell.