Thranduil, in his inimitable Thranduil way, had ordered an elaborate farewell feast for Elrohir's last night in Eryn Lasgalen.
Elrohir would have far preferred a quiet meal in private quarters; he suspected Legolas shared that wish, although he could not tell by looking at him.
Legolas was every inch his father's son tonight: regal, detached, immaculate as he sat at Thranduil's side. If Elrohir did not know better he would declare Legolas looked as fit as the day the Fellowship departed from Imladris.
If he did not know better.
But Elrohir knew better. He could see the fine lines of tension running through the Wood Elf, could see the effort he was making this night. And it made him love Legolas even more than he did already, as if that were even possible.
He watched Legolas politely incline his head, the mithril circlet he wore in deference to his father reflecting back the light of the torches. He appeared completely immersed in conversation with the animated Captain seated near them but Elrohir could tell the words were not sinking in.
By the direction of Thranduil's gaze it appeared the King was well aware of his son's progressive distraction. He turned his attention to Elrohir.
"You are still planning to leave at first light?" Thranduil asked him.
Elrohir kept his face impassive but the question puzzled him. He intended to leave by midday, at the latest, not first light. He goal was to reach the river crossing before nightfall, an easy day's ride. He had discussed his plan with the King earlier in the day-it was unlikely Thranduil had forgotten.
He opened his mouth to clarify his planned departure time when he caught the look in Thranduil's eyes. Oh.
Elrohir cleared his throat to cover his surprise and then responded. "Yes, I have a long journey ahead of me. Best to get on the road early, although I will regret having to leave the Wood. My sojourn here has been undeniably pleasant."
"It has been my pleasure to host you here, Elrondion. You have succeeded in bringing my son back to my halls, something I have not managed so successfully the last few years." The hidden meaning was clear in Thranduil's words and Elrohir gave Thranduil a minute nod of the head in response.
"You have more to do this evening to prepare, I take it?" It was not a question. Thranduil turned to his son. "Legolas, will you kindly escort our guest to his quarters. It seems Elrohir plans for an early departure and still has much to do to prepare."
Legolas opened his mouth to disagree, knowing Elrohir was already packed and ready, having seen him do it with his own eyes just a few hours earlier.
But then a mischievous expression crossed his face and Elrohir felt his heart thump at the sight.
"Yes, of course," Legolas said smoothly, rising to his feet. "How remiss of me to forget. Come, Elrohir, do not linger here on our account when you have labours still ahead of you this night." His eyes danced as he beckoned to Elrohir.
"I thought Father would never release us!" Legolas confided, when they had left the Great Hall behind them. "I told him a quiet meal in his study would be more than enough tonight but for appearances sake he insisted on all this formality." He grinned up at Elrohir, as he pulled the circlet off his head. "At least he arranged to excuse us early so we could enjoy our last night together."
"Our last only for now, I hope," Elrohir said, unable to keep the want from his tone. "I will see you again, in Imladris perhaps, before you return to Ithilien?"
They had reached his rooms. Legolas opened the door and pulled Elrohir in after him, shutting it firmly before sinking into Elrohir's embrace. "Must you truly leave tomorrow?" Legolas asked. "Surely you could spare a few more days?"
Elrohir slipped his fingers into the golden hair, pulling Legolas closer. "You know I cannot stay when Maewen comes. It would not be fair to her."
"She is not expected for at least another week. You know that." Legolas countered.
Elrohir tilted that beloved face up so the green eyes were on his. "You know your father longs for time with you. I will not overstay, much as my heart yearns to. He has missed you, Legolas, and I have monopolized you unashamedly. He will treasure these days with you, before Maewen arrives."
Legolas tugged on a strand of Elrohir's hair. "Why must you always be so sensible?"
Elrohir could not help but smile at that description. "I dare say there are many who would argue the accuracy of that statement. Sensible is not a word often used in regards to me."
A matching grin came over Legolas' face. "It is one that Gimli and Aragorn would heartily agree does not ever apply to me." He pulled on Elrohir's hand, his eyes lighting up as he tugged him toward the door again. "Come! Let us live up to our reputations then!"
Elrohir was bewildered. "Come where? Is this not where we should spend our night?" He resisted the pull on his hand.
Legolas shook his head. "No, my Noldo, not your rooms." He arched an eyebrow. "I have a much better idea!"
Elrohir was not sure how wandering through the kitchen constituted a better idea for their last night than his own inviting bed but he would indulge Legolas in almost anything when he was in such spirits. His grin was infectious and Elrohir was utterly defenseless against the roguish smile Legolas flashed him.
They skirted past the harried kitchen elves and around the tables brimming with dirty crockery until they reached a small door set in an alcove. "Follow me," Legolas said, reaching for Elrohir's hand. He pulled a small door open and Elrohir trailed him outside.
They were in a garden. Elrohir could tell by the scents surrounding him–basil, rosemary, thyme. It smelled like home, taking him back to the herb garden in Imladris. He closed his eyes as a wave of longing came over him. It had been too long since he had been home.
An arm slipped around his waist and Legolas' head dropped onto his shoulder. Elrohir opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. Even in the dim light he could see the neatly ordered rows of herbs and vegetables spread around him. A high stone wall surrounded the extensive garden and he could just see the crescent moon rising above it.
He gathered Legolas in his arms, a small smile coming over him as he faced the Wood Elf in front of him. "I had not expected a garden tour," Elrohir said. "Have you saved this surprise for my last night?"
Legolas raised an eyebrow. "I did promise you an evening under the stars." He burst out with a laugh at Elrohir's puzzled expression and proceeded to pull them deeper into the garden.
They found themselves in the shadow of the stone wall, the familiar scent of lavender in the air surrounding them. "Tell me of this promise of yours, Legolas. Why is it I cannot recall it?" Elrohir brought his forehead down to rest on Legolas' and let his arms circle his companion's waist.
"You were somewhat distracted at the time," Legolas said, moving close enough that his breath ghosted over Elrohir's lips. Even after their recent weeks together that light touch made Elrohir shiver in anticipation.
Their lips met gently, softly, the kiss slowly growing more heated with the contact. Elrohir trailed his mouth down Legolas' neck, savoring the small sounds of pleasure he was eliciting. His hands gripped Legolas' hips, bringing him so close that their bodies pressed together; he could feel the answering arousal in his companion. "Should we not return to my rooms now?" he breathed, his lips just brushing the shell of Legolas' ear.
Legolas pulled back so that their eyes met. "I promised you pleasure under the trees and under the stars, my Elrohir. I have only offered you the canopy of trees thus far—although you have indulged in that quite eagerly, after the first time." There was suppressed laughter in his voice and a brightness in his eyes as he spoke.
Elrohir groaned as he buried his face in Legolas' neck, his cheeks flushing. "We are near the kitchen door," he pointed out. "There are dozens of people just inside it."
Legolas made a disparaging sound. "We are nowhere near the door. None will venture here at night. They will be cleaning up after the feast for hours yet."
Elrohir lifted his head and looked up to scan the heights of the stone wall surrounding them. "You cannot tell me you do not have guards on these walls—this would be too vulnerable a portal into your kingdom otherwise."
It was Legolas' turn to groan. "You are much easier to seduce indoors, my proper Noldo." He regarded Elrohir mischievously. "Their eyes are trained outward, not amongst the herbs and vegetables. It is why we are down here in the shadows and not upon the wall, where the stars are clearer." His face grew more serious. "Let me have this night with you, Elrohir. Let us share our love, here, under the stars-as our people were always meant to, since their Awakening under this very light." He moved his hands to gently cup Elrohir's face between them. "Look up, Elrohir. I want to see the stars reflected in your eyes." He stepped closer, the warmth of his body reaching Elrohir even through the fabric of their clothes.
Elrohir looked up. The light of Varda's stars blazed forth, brilliant, bright and clear in the moon's waning. He felt the touch of Legolas' hands, traveling down his body, searing heat trailing in their wake. His own hands reached to sink into that glorious hair, dimmed to a shining silver in this light. He could see the stars reflected in Legolas' eyes, a thousand shimmers highlighted in those green depths.
Elrohir stepped closer to the wall, moving Legolas so that he was leaning against it. Their lips brushed against each other, Legolas' hands sliding up Elrohir's chest to twine around his neck. "I can let the guards know to avoid this section of the wall," he whispered in Elrohir's ear, a tinge of amusement in his voice. "I have done that for us before, as you well know."
Elrohir stifled his embarrassment, his impulse to whisk Legolas back to his rooms, his inclination to hide. That was not the Silvan way and the love of his life was a Silvan; Elrohir's own forebears had awakened under this light, had shared their love under the stars, had loved without shame. And he would do the same, awkward as it may be for him to do so. "Surely they know we are here—we have not been particularly discreet," Elrohir whispered back, his hands gently moving under Legolas' tunic to skim over the warm skin beneath.
"They know. Hadron marked our arrival. He will fulfill his duty on the wall but be circumspect to our location. Trust me, we are not the first to seek the gardens out for such a reason." Legolas' expression grew serious. "It has been many long years since we could roam freely in our wood at night, in the glades where the stars shine. It was perilous to let one's guard down in such a way. This garden, the walkway by the barrel drop, the flets closest to our Halls—those were the only places we could love one another in the open air anymore." He tilted his head back to contemplate the sky above them. "We are taking our realm back from the darkness and the danger. But for now, for you and I, on this night—this is the closest I can come to a place where we can lose ourselves in starlight."
Elrohir held Legolas' face in his hands and drew him closer. "Then we must make the best of it. And when you come to Imladris, where the stars shine free in the safety of our valley—then we will celebrate our love wherever you would choose."
"You have almost convinced me. I did not find much joy or welcome on my first visit there," Legolas admitted.
"Then let me share my home with you as you have shared your own with me. And make new memories there, together."
"Enough talk, my Noldor. The night passes and you will leave me tomorrow." Legolas grasped his face and roughly pulled him down. Their fingers skimmed over fabric, loosened fastenings, found bare skin to caress.
His mouth covered Legolas', the heat of their bodies melding together, fervent kisses, touches bringing them ever closer. Every caress imprinted in his memory. Every slide of their tongues a thousand words of meaning. But when Legolas' questing hands reached his leggings Elrohir grasped them tightly and pressed them back against the stone. "No, not tonight. Tonight is for you."
Elrohir could not say if it was moments or hours later when he finally sank to his knees in the fragrant grass, reveling in the glide of calloused fingers in his hair. The guards, the garden, the very world around them—all faded away at the sight of the star-lit green eyes above him. No scent but Legolas' own, no sounds but the ones he was drawing from his companion, no taste other than the salty tang of Legolas' skin.