Author's notes: All talk of Legolas of Gondolin will be as cannon (that is Lost Tales cannon) as possible, despite cannon having been abandoned for this story. I have of course taken much from implication and from my own mind to fill in the gaps. We only saw him once, and he was fleeing a massacre at the time, so we can't claim to know a lot about him. We do know that he was called by the Eldarissa (is this the old form of Quenya, does anyone know?) form of his name after the fall of Gondolin. That is Laiqalassë, in case you were wondering. The rebirth of Glorfindel is also still a topic for discussion amongst Tolkienites. Personally I love the idea, and so will be using it. But you have to bear in mind that Glorfindel was a great lord, and Laiqalassë little more than a keen-sighted and useful footsoldier. Interesting that their roles are reversed in their second incarnations, though Glorfindel is still a powerful elf.

Hopefully all questions regarding the ceremony in the last chapter will be explained here.

Another Note: This chapter owes its conception to SESSHYANGEL, my darling beta. You're a genius honey, don't deny it. :P

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Elrohir was still wondering quite why he felt so very betrayed. It wasn't as if Elladan was spending any less time with him. It wasn't even like he had any demands over his twin's time. Valar knew they needed some time apart occasionally. But did he have to be so very… affectionate with the young elf of Mirkwood?

A gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder and he looked up into the pale blue-grey of Glorfindel's eyes, his face surrounded in a halo of gold. Together they turned back to observing the pair in the forest, challenging each other in archery. Neither could deny that Legolas was an impressive shot, and cast a dashing figure in his Mirkwood greens and browns, bow in hand and a soft frown on his brow as he lined up the shot in one easy movement.

"I often wonder if the Valar meant for him to return to this world with a bow in his hands. Laiqalassë was deadly with a sling in his hands and a pocket full of iron or rock. But they do not use the slings in Mirkwood, and the bow is the nearest equivalent. There is no doubt that this is where his tree grows, in the palms of his hands." Elrohir looked up at the defender of Imladris.

"Of what do you speak, my Lord Glorfindel? What tree is this, who is Laiqalassë?"

"Come Elrohir. Let me tell you a tale." Quietly he led him away from the field, encouraging him to sit beside him on the grass. "When an elf of Sindar blood is buried there is a ritual to guide his path into Mandos' Halls and ensure that he arrives with some vestige of his previous life. Elm seeds are placed over those places where that elf's talents lie - his heart for courage, his head for cleverness, his lips for a sweet voice, his hands for skill in wielding some weapon or other, and over his eyes for a keenness of sight... Only one tree grows, taking new life from life now passed into the next world, and that sapling determines which aspect of themselves that elf is allowed to take with them if they are ever returned to Middle Earth. I passed through Mandos' Halls on the night that Gondolin fell, and was returned to Middle Earth many centuries later, when your father had need of me. Before I left the halls I found Laiqalassë, Legolas of the House of the Tree, of Gondolin, an elf of Sindarin birth, in the halls. As a came across him I realised that his hands glowed with a bright strength, and that confused me greatly. When I questioned him he cupped his hands together and there I saw a great Elm growing and remembered the ritual of the Sindar. The skill he had always held in his hands would follow him into the next life, and yet he seemed sad. When I asked him what he felt he had lost, what thing he mourned, he spoke of the nightsight that he had once possessed, the gift that had allowed him to lead our people from Gondolin to safety. He had hoped he would take that into the next life, and feared the darkness his next incarnation would have to live in."

"What is this information to me, Glorfindel? It is obvious that Legolas – if he is the reincarnation you speak of - has put his skilled hands to great use, and does not appear to me to be afraid of the dark…"

"You are not listening, child." Glorfindel hissed in anger. "You will listen, because one day this will be important to you, and I would ask you not to forget that." Glorfindel took a deep breath, recomposed himself. "Why I am trying to explain to you is that sometimes things are taken from you that you would rather not give up. Only through fighting for what we have may we keep those things we treasure." Elrohir met Glorfindel's eyes.

"You think I will lose Elladan to this… this child?"

"If you do not fight for him." Glorfindel confirmed. "Though who knows what might happen if you chose to fight…" With this cryptic comment, the blond haired defender rose and walked sedately away. He paused before he was out of earshot. "Do not think to predict the heart, young Elrohir. Sometimes it is a fickle thing."

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Unexpectedly, it was Legolas that first approached him, while he was still searching some way of confronting his brother about the whole thing. The blond elf strolled to his side, filled with feline grace and near bouncing with the energy only seen in the very young. Slouching into the chair beside him, a mocking yawn and stretch left a long body draped across his lap. Elrohir blinked, bewildered. Had he been mistaken for his brother? A wave of ire rose up. Normally he could brush off an accident such as this as one of the dangers of looking identical to another elf, but right now he wasn't in the mood to be mistaken for his flirtatious brother.

"Legolas." He spoke up.

"Elrohir." He sang back. The retort was swallowed as he sought for something to say. Legolas grinned, knowing he had stumped him. "It seems to me, Elrohir," He emphasised his name again, teasing. "That I have seen entirely too little of you these last few days. Is there something wrong?"

"Get off my lap." The brusque reply was anything but friendly. Legolas sat up and turned, tucking one leg beneath him so that he could face Elrohir.

"I don't intend to take your brother from you, you know. He loves you more than he could ever love another. I only hoped that… that perhaps you could accept me as a suitor to your brother." The serious tone almost brought Elrohir to hysteria. Whether in tears or laughter, he wasn't quite sure.

"You're welcome to my brother, Legolas. I was growing weary of him anyway." He was quite proud of how little his voice broke as he said it, and yet he jumped as Legolas leaned towards him to swipe a tear from his cheek.

"Why do you have such a fear that I will take him from you?" There was a softness in that question, such softness that Elrohir pulled his gaze back up from the ground and met those clear blue eyes. "You treat me like a challenger for his love."

"Is that so hard to understand? Is what we are so terrible to the outside world, what we do…" Elrohir stammered into silence and then stood suddenly, shaking off Legolas' hand that had fallen to his wrist.

"Elrohir…"

"Perhaps my brother has realised it is distasteful to him too. I surrender him to you, Legolas. For you have won him from me fairly." And Elrohir melted into the trees, Legolas left with his hand outstretched as though it would call him back, still processing what had been said.

"Oh my…"

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"Is what we have so disgusting to you now, that you would not even tell him of it?" Elladan looked up from the wax that he was working into his bow, into his brother's raging eyes.

"Elrohir?" He asked, confused. "What do you speak of?"

"Legolas, gwanur. Your new paramour. You. Did. Not. Tell. Him. About. Us." He emphasised every word with a poke to Elladan's shoulder.

"Of course not, 'Ro. What is it to him?" Elrohir laughed out loud at that, a sharp pained laugh.

"He sought permission to court you today." He replied tersely. "I gave him it."

"He is a child looking to play with the adults." Elladan paused, took in the pained look in Elrohir's eyes, the tense posture. "Why are you taking this so to heart, 'Ro? Why did you not just tell him yourself?"

"Because…" He sighed. "Because he is more than a child in your eyes, 'Dan. You love him, care for him in a way that I do not understand."

"It means nothing, 'Ro. My heart, my body, my life, they are yours, not his."

"I have given you an opportunity, dear brother. Take it, and make of it what you may. I give you all the blessings in the world." Elladan could not call him back in time, and Elrohir whirled out of the door.

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"Why didn't you tell me? What a fool I have made of myself." Elladan was forced to look up again from his mistreated bow, and this time he put it aside with a sigh, knowing this talk would take some explaining.

"Forgive me. I did not realise you looked at me that way, Legolas, else I would have told you earlier of what I shared with my brother."

"I fear I have greatly offended him, and I can find no hide nor hair of him to apologise to."

"You are braver than I, for I have also offended him, and I plan to hide for as long as it takes for him to cool down." Elladan laughed with the Mirkwood elf, sobering slowly with the knowledge that this moment would change all of what was to come.

"I cannot separate you, I will leave as soon as Lord Elrond gives leave."

"No, please… you have no need to…"

"I cannot separate you." He repeated.

"Then join us." Legolas choked for a moment, the retort so unexpected. From the look in Elladan's eyes it was a surprise to him too.

"Elrohir hates me."

"Elrohir is not capable of hate, Legolas. It is not in his nature. He is only fearful that you will take me away from him."

"I cannot…"

"You can."

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"Elrohir?" Elladan hadn't been here for more than a century, though he knew his brother was a frequent visitor. It was a talan built in the style of Lórien, the long staircase coiling around the largest oak in Rivendell in the absence of the huge Mallorn trees found in their grandmother's realm. Long had it been their haunting grounds as children, and now it was Elrohir's sanctury. The one place to find him when he was troubled.

There was a shuffle and a rattle of branches disturbed above him, and he realised that Elrohir had moved off the platform and into the boughs above it.

"Sometimes I'm sure you're a wood elf in disguise." He called up.

"You're the expert on woodelves, dear brother." Came the bitter reply. "You would know."

"Get down here, Elrohir, before I become angry." A head appeared in the branches above him, Elrohir hanging from his knees.

"Ha!" Was his only comment before he pulled himself back up into the branches and disappeared once more.

"I am nothing without you, Elrohir." Silence. The trees stilled around him as he opened his heart to them, begging their aid. "My bed is empty without you. The hunt is boring without you, conversation is silent without you. Something draws me to Legolas, I cannot deny it. Some foreshadowing of a future fate shared, perhaps." Elladan frowned, for that was a thought that had come directly from his heart and not via his brain, something he had not considered. "The only thing I have wished for these last few days was that you might join me in this affection for him. Might see what I see in him." He looked up as Elrohir dropped onto the decking.

"And what would that change, brother? Were we both to lust over him it would tear us apart in jealousy."

"You mean to say that we are not torn apart, brother? Though still you stand out of arm's reach."

"What would you suggest? I cannot sit on your arm as you woo another."

"He needs no wooing, Elrohir. He would prostrate himself at our feet if he thought it would ease this tension between us."

"I never thought such an image would excite you so, Elladan. What a dominant nature is being revealed."

"No, indeed, my nature is nothing but giving… sharing." He put a little extra emphasis on that last word. "I know you fancy him, Elrohir. You are too like me not to."

"You overestimate our similarities." Elrohir murmured in reply, his thoughts far distant.

"Liar." A hiss, with a smile behind it, teasing, aggravating. He knew now that there was little chance he would not get his way. "Come… let us set this whole thing right, and leave what follows thereafter to the fates."

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What cruel humour, the fates…