I shall tell her all my love,
All my soul's adoration,
And I think she will hear
And will not say me nay.
–traditional Irish Folksong
The summer sped by, but the cherished lightness of the halcyon days of the early courtship of Legolas and Gellwen did not last. It was now autumn and yet the days dragged by hot and humid. Skies of a pale evil-colored gray accompanied the sultry weather. Orkish incursions into the territory guarded from the besieged enclave increased in number, size and brutality. The increasing burden of their duties sat more lightly upon the fair and splendid youth of the houses of Thranduil and Aranwë than they might have expected.
The parents, Thranduil included, sighed with pained compassion for the younger Elves and oft repeated, "they know naught else," referring less to the renewed hardships and dangers in the Woodland that the youth willingly endured, but more to the fact that their offspring had experienced only life in Mirkwood and not the once-bright forest of Greenwood the Great. If the youth harbored any sense of wistful nostalgia for a world inexorably slipping away, they refused to exhibit it on the surface.
Túgann had mended from an ugly and festering flesh wound to his shoulder, suffered in his first major skirmish, which Laitaine had tended with heretofore-unnoted skill and tenderness. Her principle accomplishments, not so long ago, according to family lore, had been dancing and the ability to sleep very little. Túgann grew more tolerant of both of his older cousins. Legolas, the surest archer of all of Mirkwood, coached Túgann as he worked to regain his full range of movement. Pityë's previously insistent teasing and flirting had abated somewhat as she apparently gained increasing esteem for the courage with which her simple, honest Woodland suitors faced regular threats of death or potentially maiming injuries.
Yet while her cousins seemed to soften, Gellwen had acquired a fierce brittle brightness that oft unsettled her parents. She had lost her previous childlike innocence, but none of her frenetic energy, and now only seemed truly relaxed in Legolas' presence or when caring for her rambunctious twin brothers. Her mother guessed the cause, but felt a perplexing reluctance to approach her daughter on the subject. The fathers, less perceptive, were relieved that were no further discussions regarding the consummation of Gellwen and Legolas' implicit betrothal.
In light of all these subtle shifts, the older generation had not the heart to place limitations on the younger one's revels. The volume of the uncurtailed nightly gatherings in front of Aranwë's homestead rose and fell dependent solely upon the number of Silvan warriors who were at leave to participate. The older Elves claimed with relief that the now regular involvement of Túgann, Legolas and Gellwen had raised to some extent the quality of the songs chosen, if not the singing itself. No one had ever faulted the clear voices and innate musical abilities of the impromptu Silvan chorus. Nevertheless, it was easier to drift into much needed sleep to the enchantment of soft, lyrical renderings of the Lay of Nimrodel or a hymn to Elbereth than it had been to the relentlessly lively Woodland airs of months past.
Poicellë and Callë continued their preparations for the planned trip to Lothlorien with their daughters, although the original urgency to be off had abated. Darker threats and notably improved behavior on the part of the cousins had turned what had once seemed a punitive necessity into a welcome, if long overdue, visit to kinsmen.
After a long, hot morning of archery practice, Túgann and Legolas walked toward the cluster of wooden buildings to find the three Elf-lasses trying to amuse Erulehto and Yulion on the lawn. A reddish flush that was distinctly unnatural-looking in young Elves suffused the twins' cheeks and their aggressive expressions indicated that childish tempers had indeed grown short. Erulehto made a wide arc with his foot and, narrowly missing Yulion, his intended victim, struck Pityë in shin.
Hopping on one foot and waving to Túgann and Legolas, Pityë shouted, "Help! Three ladies in distress."
Upon reaching the group, Túgann dived and tackled the twins by the waists, pulling them down into the yellowing grass, which erupted in a cloud of dust and gnats. "Should you not to be protecting our home, not assaulting our family?" he joked. Instead of laughing, the unflappably good-natured Erulehto began to whimper. Only marginally more composed, Yulion jutted out his small chin and protectively announced, "He is extremely hot. He itches."
Legolas, sensing imminent crisis, reached down, took Gellwen's hands and pulled her upright from her seated position on the grass, "Come then! We must take them to the creek to swim."
Laitaine, clearly an Elf-maid in the habit of running, jumped up and headed toward the kitchen door, calling behind her, "Wait. I will steal some bread, cheese and fruit. We will cool down the babies and have our own little party." Pityë sped after her. They returned quickly, laden with a large basket, towels and a blanket. And the rest of company arose as one and walked calmly toward the path into the woods. Although they did not intend to enter deeply into the forest, Túgann and Legolas kept their bows ready.
They arrived shortly at a watercourse, not deep or wide, but very cold, flowing swiftly into this valley from its source in the Misty Mountains. A short distance upstream it had widened into a little shining pool, perfect for swimming. As is the custom among Elven-folk at such times, they shed their clothing without embarrassment. The twins, at last cheerful, scampered into the fast-running shallow water and immediately began to kick and splatter.
Finally cooled to a tolerable of degree of comfort, they left the water and wrapped themselves in towels and sat on the blanket, where they had spread their modest feast. They ate, talked companionably and sometimes laughed, taking turns in splashing with the children who could not bear to leave the spring. For the rest of the afternoon, no one moved to leave their shady spot, returning to refresh themselves in the water at will, acutely aware of the earlier discomfort of the Elf-children and knowing that the setting of the sun would bring no relief in such weather.
When the sun had fallen close to the horizon, Túgann was first to move, a smile on his kindly, handsome face, and asked, "Please, cousins, shall we take these young ones back to the house, before they become overtired and turn ugly again?"
"Thank you, Túgann," Gellwen said, "We'll be along soon." She continued slowly toweling her heavy long hair dry, as she gazed toward the pool where Legolas swam, having returned there just a few minutes earlier.
After some negotiations relating to the divvying up of belongings and Elf-children, Túgann, Laitaine and Pityë set off toward the clearing. Gellwen turned to watch them leave. She sat on the blanket with her bare back now turned toward the stream and the mass of her dark hair pulled forward over her shoulder. She sensed more than heard when Legolas approached her.
"If you as much as touch me, my love, I take no responsibility for what will happen," she said evenly, without turning to face him.
"Is that a threat, a promise or an invitation?" he asked softly, evidently pleased at the opportunity, but not without an element of humor in his voice. He knelt behind her, placing his hands on his lover's bare shoulders and kissed her neck.
"Turn around, Gellwen, look at me," Legolas said. "You once asked me to trust you. I did and you were right. We had the opportunity to learn to know one another and gain the acceptance of our kin. But I fear that to wait further will bring us little hope of bliss. Please trust in me now."
Gellwen turned to Legolas, lifted her face to his, looking into his eyes, allowing him to enfold her in his arms, and feeling for the first time the silken touch of his skin and the grandeur of his flesh directly touching hers, said seriously, "Oh, yes. I will have you now, my dearest love. I will not permit the joyful immediacy of our coming together be worn down to the commonplace comfort of a union too closely considered and too long delayed."
They knelt holding onto one another, bodies pressed together from shoulders to knees, as though frightened to move or let go. Gellwen let out a sharp little cry of pleasure as she felt him harden against her. And yet it all seemed natural and simple now, so altered from that once desperate need for physical union that had teased and tortured them for months. In the face of its ultimate fulfillment, their desire lost its frantic urgency. Slowly Legolas began to kiss her; Gellwen's mouth opened knowingly beneath his. This part they had practiced oft enough, but their adoring explorations were different now, accompanied as they were by the awareness that this time they would not break them off. Legolas gradually lowered Gellwen down onto the damp blanket and pressed the length of his body more fully against hers. Placing one leg around her thighs, he drew her closer still. The irregularities of the ground beneath them, the dry grasses and the occasional twig were easily perceived through the blanket's thinness.
"Will this be less than you have hoped? Did you dream there would be stars, moonlight, flickering candles and an elegant bed?" Legolas said gently, still afraid she might retreat or that he should stop. He brushed soft tendrils of Gellwen's shadowy hair off her forehead with his fingertips to better view her entire dear face with blissfully adoring eyes.
"And a shimmering beautiful gown, music, and dancing…oh, yes, all that and more," she laughed softly. "But those were the elements of a little girl's daydreams, all I want now is you." But, that moment she shivered with sudden flash of terror at a vision of her own rosy bright naked body, which she appreciated as never she had before, being run through with a poisoned Orc blade. "Is it safe here?" she asked quaveringly.
"I feel no evil near tonight," Legolas assured her. "I can always sense it. You are safe with me."
She relaxed into his arms again. From the moment of her acceptance of his reassurance, there were no further interruptions to the fulfillment of their passion. They gave one another pleasure effortlessly. They caressed one another with awe and curiosity in places where another had never touched them. There were more kisses, outcries of passion, and a few tears of joy. Their Elven bond of heart and mind insured that there were no repressed emotions or unfulfilled desires. Any clumsy movements due to accident or lack of experience, and there were a few, even between these graceful immortal beings, resulted not in insecurity, but momentary flashes of playful silliness, and fond Elven laughter. The lovemaking was both more zealous and more soothing than the tentative preludes to it of past weeks, but it had none of the hardness of edge that had plagued their desire for it. The consummation of the act of love erased any remaining physical or psychic hesitation or guardedness and any further doubt that they were well and truly bonded, husband and wife.
After a period of sated relaxation and desultory communication, both verbal and mental, Legolas finally raised himself from the ground and resting on an elbow took Gellwen's hand. "As a token of my promise to you would I give you this ring," he said, slipping onto her finger a narrow band of gold set with diamonds, small, but each a perfect match of the others, cut with such skill, that, though purest white, they caught the dimmest light and shot out a glittering spark of every tint that reached them. "It was the last gift of my mother to me before she set out for the Grey Havens. It is a marvel that I did not lose it, for I refused to part with it day or night when I was no older than Erulehto and Yulion."
"My love, I will treasure it, as I cherish your love, and shall never remove it from my hand. I have no gift for you but this ring that I always wear. Yet, I think it a not unworthy offering, if you can but bring yourself to accept it," Gellwen answered, removing from her ear lobe a shining mithril ring.
She placed the ring in the palm of his hand. He studied it and his expression transformed into one of delighted amazement. He had seen it on Gellwen, but had never looked at it so closely or so carefully. It held no stones, but was covered with a recognizable style of intricate filigree, which led Legolas to immediately assume it was the work of her father. He asked astounded, "Your father fashioned this marvelous ring?" I have long admired Aranwë's work but this reveals more, much more, than what I have heretofore seen.
"Nay, his father formed it in the great City of Gondolin, not long before its fall. It is one of few items our family managed to save. Will you still accept it, symbolic as it is of the pride of the mightiest of the Noldorand a reminder of past tragedy?" she asked.
"I would accept, with delight, a ring of brass from you, my dearest," Legolas said with a tender laugh, "but I feel somewhat abased to hold a treasure of such legendary proportions. Yes, I will wear it gladly, for its history is a part of you. But your father? What will he think of you gifting it?"
"He loves you much, as a son. He will be honored, and," her eyes twinkled mischievously, "I doubt that he will miss the drollness of the Prince of Mirkwood bearing a Noldor ring. And Thranduil?"
"It is not his place to accept or reject it. Perchance he will reason that his acquiescence, however grudging, will bode well for the future of his beloved realm, which he surely sees cannot stand alone."
She reached up and removed a single tiny emerald from his ear and carefully inserted her family heirloom. "May I wear this one?" she asked while, sure of his answer, she fastened the bright green stud into her empty lobe.
He looked into her laughing eyes and said, "It suits you well. 'Tis a perfect little gem for the wife of a simple Silvan Elf."