SEAL ON MY HEART
by Soledad
Disclaimer: see Introduction
Warning: this story contains implied m/m interaction - don't read it if it's not your thing.
Rating: PG, I guess.
Author's notes:
Firstly, I want to thank all my reviewers for the positive feedback. Quite frankly, I was a little afraid to be lynched by the enraged Legolas-, Merry- and Pippin-fans.g
Ah, and Finch: I hope your were thinking of Glorfindel saying you were glad I sent a certain blonde Elf back to Mirkwood. Because my Legolas has never been and will never be blonde! I'm quite content with Orlando Bloom's face and his performance, but I'd never accept that hyperoxyd wig. Not in seven Hells! So, to clear up all misunderstandings for those who don't know my other stories, for me Legolas has the same hair as all Wood-Elves – generally auburn, but changes color slightly with the change of the seasons. Detailed description in ''Innocence'', if anyone is interested.
This is a somewhat shorter chapter now, combining the altered bonding scene from ''Of Snow and Stone and Wolves'' and an altered movie scene between Arwen and Aragorn. The latter is more important for the outcome of this AU than you might believe, so pay close attention. Since Glorfindel already left for Mirkwood, his lines went to Gildor and Elrond here.
Dedication:
This chapter is for Deborah who always wanted to know where the Shielding Stone came from. Otherwise, this is still Isabeau's birthday present – whom I owe everything for beta-reading and for her friendship. ;-P
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''Oh that you were like a brother to me,
That nursed at my mother's breast!
If I met you outside, I would kiss you,
And none would despise me.
I would lead you and bring you
Into the house of my mother,
And into the chamber of her that conceived me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink,
The juice of my pomegranates.
Oh that his left hand were under my head
And that his right hand embraced me!''
(The Song of Solomon, 8:1-4)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER THREE: PROMISES
On the very eve of the our departure, Elladan finally summoned me to the library of his father, where I had not been since that fateful Council; for – as he said – there was a small but important matter that had to be taken care of in the circle of the family, ere we set out upon our quest. I admit to have been a little bewildered, for in all our times together, my Elf had never felt the necessity to make things between us overly ceremonial.
The more surprised I was when I found not only the father and the siblings of my lover in the airy, sunlit room, but also Erestor and that blonde beauty named Lindir he goes nowhere without, my future King and Gildor Inglorion as well.
''Did you not say this would be a family meeting?'' I asked. But Elladan only smiled in sorrow and nodded slowly.
''Oh, but it is. Erestor is my foster brother, just like Estel; and Lindir is his spouse. As for the Lord Gildor, he belongs to my mother's family. I asked them to come as my witnesses.''
''Witnesses for what?'' I asked, not liking the shadowy way things were going.
''I have decided to execute my Right of Protection," Elladan replied. ''As the Shadow has already fallen upon your heart on that day in Osgiliath, you are in great peril, both from the seductive powers of the Ring itself, that now has an easier way to your heart, and from the minions of the Enemy who shall be drawn to you because of it. But I have something to shield you from both perils.''
He held up a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set; it was clearly of the finest Elven handiwork if I ever saw it; and the stone had a mild, soft light glowing in it like a far away white star.
''This," said Elladan, ''is Adamant, one of the Elf-Stones that came back with the Noldor from over the Sea; made by the great Fëanor himself, it contains the undying light of Valinor. 'Tis said that he made it as a work of study before crafting the Great Jewels. It went as a weregild from Maedhros to Finrod Felagund and was rescued from the ruins of Nargothrond by Celebrimbor, who later made the collar for it himself and gave it to Círdan the Shipwright on the Isle of Balar. Through Gil-galad it came to my father, and he gave it to me when I reached maturity, more than twenty centuries ago. It is called the Shielding Stone, for it is for the protection of one's beloved; yet I have not found any one I would want to gift it upon ere I met you. Now I want you to wear it.''
I was so stunned I could not even breathe for a while. Surely, I have heard of the magical powers of the Elf-Stones that returned with the nobles of the High-Elves from the Blessed Realm, yet it was certainly unheard of to give such a Stone to a mere mortal.
''Elladan, you cannot...''
''Oh, but he can," the clear, slightly hard voice of Gildor cut in. ''The Adamant was gifted upon him for this exact purpose only. He asked us to witness so that no one can ever doubt your right to wear the Shielding Stone, and as the heir of Celebrimbor, I am very glad that it finally can fulfill its true purpose.''
He paused, and his sea-colored eyes turned dark with sorrow, walking the paths of memories from a time long gone.
''The Shielding Stone was made to connect the fëas of two lovers over many leagues, even through time itself," he then continued, ''bringing back living memories of shared joy, should they become separated, as if you were having one of the Elven waking dreams.''
I gazed at the collar in Elladan's hand in wonder.
''That tiny Stone can do such thing?''
''Not the Stone itself," Elladan laughed quietly. ''Its powers are great, but they only work for a soul that is bonded to another. Fear not," he added a little sadly, seeing the slight flinch in my demeanor, ''I do not ask you to wed me. Even if the customs of your people would allow such union, you are already promised to Éowyn of Rohan, and I respect that. I only intend to bond myself to you, without forcing any obligations upon you. 'Tis a gift, given freely by me – and I hope you would choose to accept it freely in turn."
''But I heard that when Elves bond themselves, it is till death," I said warily.
''Nay, 'tis even beyond Death and beyond the Sea, going on even in Mandos' Hall till the end of Eä," said Elrond quietly. ''That is why we only can bond ourselves to another one single time. Some of us never find a devotion strong enough to take such a final step, yet when we do, it brings us a fulfillment we cannot find otherwise. Not even in a new love after having lost our true mate''
''But should this not be something felt by both sides?'' I asked, reluctant to let Elladan enter such a one-sided bond. It felt not right to allow my Elf to make such a sacrifice – and not being able to give him equal devotion.
''In most cases it is," Elrond nodded, ''and I cannot say that the choice of my son makes me happy. But sometimes we have to find our fulfillment in giving, without receiving – and some of us can even do it without bitterness.''
I was still hesitating, not fully persuaded by his arguments, when the Lady Undómiel came forth and laid a feather-light hand upon my forearm.
''Understand this, son of Gondor," she said; ''Elladan has given you his heart as only Elves can do, and whether you accept this bond or not, there will be no one else for him in his whole life. Deny him the fulfillment of his love, and you condemn him to loneliness. For this is our way, and we cannot change it, even if we wanted.''
The enormity of what she was saying hit me like an iron fist. How could I either accept or reject such an enormous gift? I am but a Man, certainly not worthy of such sacrifice... But then I looked in the clear, sorrowful eyes of my lover and understood that this was the only thing I really could give him, in spite of the different nature of our feelings for each other. And that I had no right to deny him what little I could give.
''I gratefully accept then," I said with a slight bow of my head. ''I only wish I could do the same thing for you.''
Elladan smiled; not one of his wry half-grins this time, but a smile that made his chiseled features glow from the inside.
''We cannot change the ways of our heart by will alone," he answered gently, ''and I never asked you for anything you cannot give.''
''Indeed, you did not," I nodded; then I shifted a little uncomfortably. ''What do I have to do, then?''
''Nothing," Elladan replied, still smiling. ''Tis my oath, not yours. I asked Gildor to witness, for he is the eldest of our relatives who is dwelling in my father's house right now – and this is something where the blessing of the whole family is usually asked for.''
He gently laid the silver collar around my neck, and it closed with a slight click and became smooth and firm all around at once, for it had no clasp whatsoever, only the ancient Elven magic that was wrought in its sacred metal – and it felt as warm and light as a silken ribbon, keeping the warmth and gentleness of his touch.
And Elladan smiled again and spoke in a quiet but firm voice, not in Quenya or the Common Speech, but in the ancient tongue of Gondor, to my great surprise:
Boromir son of Denethor
To thee I pledge my love
Now and for ever,
Beyond the Sea and beyond Death itself,
To watch over you
And to protect you from all things of evil,
from Fire and Darkness
and from the shadows of evil long gone.
This vow I speak before Manwë Súlimo,
Lord of the Winds, King of the Valar
and before Varda, Queen of the Stars;
and this oath I swear
in the Name of Eru, Ilúvatar,
the Maker of all things
above and beneath the Sky and the Sea.
And by the naming of the Name that was only spoken in the most solemn of oaths, the white stone began glowing again and its light never darkened as long as I was alive.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
When the ceremony was over, Boromir left the Great House, too shaken from Elladan's sacrifice and the depths of his love to speak to anyone right away. Elladan seemed to understand him perfectly – in fact, as soon as their bond, however one-sided, had been blessed by Elrond (however reluctantly), they seemed to sense each other's feelings in a completely new way. At least when they were near each other.
''You are in need of some time alone," Elladan said. ''Go and find a place to think. I shall not demand from you aught that you have not already given me freely. Remember, you are not the one bound. Not to me.''
That might have been true, technically, but as he was sitting in the midst of one of those lovely, sun-drenched groves near the bridge of the Bruinen, listening to the soft voices of leaves and the wind talking above his head, Boromir became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he already belonged to Elladan, much more than he was likely to ever belong to Éowyn of Rohan, whom he had been promised to – in a way.
They had not only shared their bodies, Elladan and himself, but the deepest secrets of their souls as well – and at least Elladan had shared his heart, too. And though Boromir did not share the full depths of his lover's feelings – not yet –, what he felt for the fair and brave Elf was dangerously close to...
Nay, that could not be! His heart belonged to Faramir, however sinful and forbidden those feelings had been; and he had promised Éowyn to wed her for the good of both Rohan and Gondor, and to save her from a fate that seemed worse than death to her. He could not give Elladan aught that would be worth of such sacrifice.
And yet... there were moments when he wished he could forget his duty, his promises, even his forbidden love and lose himself in Elladan's arms completely. For he came to understand that part of his infatuation towards Faramir had been caused by the fact that there could never be any fulfillment. More than anything else, his love for his own brother was a dream – a bitter, painful, shaming dream, yet still a dream.
And dreams seldom became reality.
What he had with Elladan, though, was real. Painfully, heartbreakingly real for both of them – for Elladan mayhap even more, for his heart was not divided, and his feelings, his passion, his desire were all focused on Boromir alone. Elves were said to love like that, and though Boromir still could not understand what had made Elrond's eldest fall for him and choose him of all people, he slowly came to realize that it was hard to remain unaffected while becoming the focus of an Elf's deepest feelings.
If anything, it made him feel differently about himself. Through Elladan's eyes he could see himself as someone worthy of being loved. And that did not make things any easier.
Early on, it had been quite simple to accept the demands of his high birth: to keep the interests of his land and his people in highest regard, before everything else; to wed whom his father told him to wed, for the good of Gondor; to put the good of Gondor before his own happiness. He was the Heir of the Steward; those were the things a man in his status was expected to do. And ever since his father had detected his dirty little secret, he had even been glad to do so. To fulfill his duty, even if he had brought shame upon himself and his House.
Meeting Elladan had made things truly disturbing. Not the easy acceptance the Elves of the valley had reacted to their affair with – even though it had shocked him a little at first. Not even the speed with which Elladan had developed an all-engulfing passion for him. Nay, it was the easiness with which he had slid into this relationship himself that unsettled him greatly. And the sad truth was that it was not a relationship his father would ever accept, even if he were not sworn to marry Éowyn of Rohan.
What would his father say if he could see his happiness? For there was no use denying that he was happy with his Elf, happier than he had ever been in his whole life. Not that they would never hurt each other's feelings – they most obviously did, he more than Elladan, but they both did it at times. Yet they came back together, again and again, to reconcile, to make amends, to mend the fences.
Was there a way for him out of this tangle of need, desire, co-dependence and true fondness? Was this what people commonly called love? 'Twas so very different from the hidden (and guilty) feelings he had kept for his lover for so long... far too long, indeed. However hard he tried, he could not feel guilty for his... feelings towards Elladan. For he definitely had feelings for his Elf. Not the same ones he had for his brother, but honest ones nevertheless. And they felt as natural as rain – though his father would surely have seen things differently.
Could he ever stand before his father and tell him that he had chosen a male Elf, not only for his bed but for the rest of his life, even if he were able to sort out his feelings and make a decision? Could he live in exile – for the Lord Denethor would doubtlessly disown him for such perversion and forbid him to come within the borders of Gondor ever again? Could he forsake his whole life, in the hope that he would eventually fall in love with his lover, and that this would be enough to live for? Without honor, without a purpose, without the respect of his own people?
For his part, Elladan had already chosen. He had bound himself to a mortal who most likely would never openly admit that they were together – and he would spend eternity alone after their parting. Boromir still could not help but shake his head in disbelief. What made him in Elladan's eyes worth of such sacrifice was beyond his understanding. True, they had a good time together, even their souls touched upon occasion, but how could that be enough?
Quiet voices interrupted his tormented thoughts: one deep and smooth, the voice of a wise woman who had seen much in her life, the other harsh and rough, full of anger and unfulfilled passion.
He gazed out into the deepening gloom of the evening to see who disturbed his solitude and found Aragorn, still clad in the rich attire of his true heritage, and the Lady Undómiel, wearing a gown of pale lilac, feather-light and half-translucent as if made of mist, coloured by the sunset sky, her unbraided, raven-black hair floating weightlessly around her face like smoke.
They were walking arm-in-arm, she leaning slightly into him, but not in an intimate way; and though his eyes were burning with passion, on her calm, ageless face there was only fondness and something akin to cool pity. They kept their voices low, and they were speaking in Sindarin, but Boromir was familiar enough with the tongue of the Grey-Elves to understand them.
It must have been a conversation they had started earlier, for Arwen sounded a little impatient, as if she had been repeating the same arguments over and over again and getting tired of it.
''Why do you fear the past?'' she asked. ''You are Isildur's Heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate. Where he failed, you might succeed. Though where he succeeded, you might fail," she added thoughtfully. ''You are far removed from Isildur – and even further removed from Elros Tar-Minyatur, indeed. You are of Middle-earth, not of Númenórë, and in Middle-earth you are bound to fight your battles.''
''Still, the same blood flows in my veins," Aragorn said stubbornly; ''the same weakness, maybe, but also the same strength. We are of the same blood, Undómiel. Why am I always asked to hold back? Am I not the Heir of the Kings of Númenor? You might be of the Elder Line of the Peredhil, but I have descended from the Kings of Westernesse.''
''Your time shall come," Arwen soothed. ''You will face the same evil, and you will defeat it, if only your heart remains true to its destiny. The Shadow does not yet hold sway. Not over you, not over me. Do you remember the first time we met?''
''How could I ever forget it?'' Aragorn sighed. ''I thought I strayed into a dream.''
''And you got caught in that dream more than you ever should have," Arwen replied earnestly. ''Long years have passed since then. You did not have the cares you carry now. I hoped you had grown out of your dreams. Do you remember what I told you, back then?''
Aragorn nodded eagerly, his eyes burning.
''You said you would bind yourself to me, and forsake the immortal life of your people.''
''Nay, Estel," Arwen shook her head, wise grey eyes full of pity for the tormented Man before her, ''I said I would choose the way of mortal Men, just as my uncle Elros had chosen before, if I should fall in love with a mortal. And to that I still hold. I would rather share one lifetime with someone I love than face all the Ages of the world alone. But I have not chosen a mortal life just yet.''
''But your father said if I became the King of both Arnor and Gondor, he would allow us to wed...," Aragorn trailed off.
''Father said I cannot give up the grace of my life for less," Arwen corrected gently. ''He left the choice to me, and I have not chosen yet. 'Tis not a choice for me to make lightly. Nor have you become the King of anything, so far.''
There was heavy silence, for quite some time. Then Aragorn said, his voice full of despair:
''So you love me not...''
''Of course I love you, Estel, be not silly," Arwen replied with a sad smile. ''I am just not ready to make my Final Choice yet. Not before this quest is over. But," she added, taking off the necklace with the flower pendant she was wearing and putting it around Aragorn's neck, ''I can give you this token as a promise that I shall not choose any one else til then.''
''You cannot give me this!'' Aragorn protested. ''Not when you are still not willing to become my wife!''
Arwen raised an elegant eyebrow.
''It is mine to give whom I will, Estel. Like my heart. No one can force me to decide before I truly am ready. Not even you. This is all I can promise right now. Take it or refuse it – 'tis your choice.''
''How could I ever refuse aught you are willing to give me, no matter how little it is?'' Aragorn murmured, grabbing her into a tight embrace upon the highest point of the arched bridge and kissing her possessively before the eyes of the entire valley. Arwen let him for a moment – then she disentangled herself from his arms and left, without even looking back.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
''That was unexpected," Elladan commented quietly, sitting down on the grass at Boromir's side. ''We all were certain that she had made her Final Choice long ago.''
''Does it mean she loves Aragorn not?'' Boromir asked, somewhat confused, while his fingers found their way into the silky mass of unbraided hair laying heavily upon his Elf's back, gently massaging Elladan's sensitive scalp with his callused fingertips. Elladan arched into his touch like a big cat, almost purring in delight.
''Mmm, that feels good... I know not Arwen's true feelings, but if she still is unsure of her choice, after all these years, then she mayhap does not love him... not enough to last for even one lifetime.''
''Would you choose the life of mortal Men, if it meant that we could stay together all our lives?'' Boromir asked, not understanding where that question had come from and regretting it as soon as it was spoken. But Elladan seemed not insulted.
''I have already bound myself to you," he answered, without opening his eyes. ''Do you believe I would leave you if I had the chance to remain with you?''
''That," said Boromir, ''is not a straight answer.''
''Yet 'tis the only one you get from me right now," Elladan replied. Then he rose and pulled Boromir to his feet as well. ''Come now. We shall not enjoy the softness of a real bed for a long time, and I want to ravish you thoroughly, ere we leave on the morrow.''
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No footnotes this time. You deserve a break, folks!