Chapter 3

Legolas did not go back to Imladris at once. He strayed north, travelling towards his own home; changed his mind, went back south, wandered into the mountains, trying to find an easy pass, came into Eriador, made his winding way to the hidden valley. He reached it one day at dusk, the fairest hour of fair Imladris, and asked to see Elrond. But the elf to whom he spoke gave him a long look, and answered that Master Elrond had not been among his people much these days, ever since a messenger had come from Lothlorien, and that he seemed to have spent these last days either alone in the wilderness about Imladris, or secluded in his own apartments.

But Legolas was lucky enough. He caught the lord of Imladris that same evening, spying him from a high window as the half-elf strode across a courtyard, coming home from some wild place. Legolas went downstairs and met him, as if by chance, even as Elrond made his way through a dark hallway towards his apartments. He looked lean and dangerous in practical, weather stained clothes, high boots and loose trousers, a tunic of heavy dark green cloth that only accentuated his pallor, his dark hair tied away from his face, hiding neither the stark beauty of his face nor his faintly haggard air. Legolas thought he could see him flinch for the barest moment upon seeing him.

'I did not think to see you again,' he said, with a harsh, rueful smile. Anger and grief seemed to war across his handsome face; then he turned away. Legolas followed him as he walked swiftly through a maze of corridors and arches, and slender bridges over rushing water.

They came into Elrond's apartments. Legolas glanced once more in wonder at the sparse, austere even, furniture, at the few ancient things lying about - things of simple beauty crafted in ages long gone, things of unspeakable value -, at the wealth of books lining up the shelves. They paused for a moment in the doorway, standing a little too close, not exactly lord and prince any more, formality between them giving way to more abrupt, dangerous familiarity. Elrond gestured at a silver and glass decanter standing upon a small, low table before a fire place. 'Help yourself,' he said, and turned to the hearth where a little firewood was already in place, kneeling beside it to light a fire.

Legolas poured two glasses of wine and sat down in an armchair beside the fireplace, observing Elrond, who stood with his back to him, a tall, lean silhouette, a dark shade gilded by the flickering light of young, fierce flames. He watched as the half-elf unbuckled the long knife that hung by his side, slowly, abstractedly, as in the now warmer room he undid the lacings on his outer tunic to leave it open on a simple white shirt; he watched him as he stilled and stood beside the fire, the knuckles of his tense right hand poised against the mantelpiece, gazed at the long lines of his slender, upright form, at his face, lit from below, an abstract map of shadow and light, undecipherable.

They waited in silence, or near silence. Legolas listened to the sound of night. Lonely birds singing. Insects. The murmur of water. A hound howling to himself, down by the stables. The sound of Elrond's breathing, something not quite heard but felt, deep in his bones, and preciously kept.

'I hope you do not come bearing news of my daughter's betrothal,' he said, and turned about, leaning on the mantelpiece, his head slightly thrown back, his eyes filled with a keen, dangerous light, a still, joyless smile upon his lips. 'I have already heard of it.'

But even through the amused, insulting lilt, Legolas thought he could see pain flash across that beautiful face, a sudden shadow veiling the sun, an abyss of sorrow briefly revealed. He could hide nothing, Legolas thought, lacking the deep stillness of the Elves, there was too much in him of the quick passions of Men, and something more terrible beside, an incandescence from before the world; he was not only for the silent stars above, but but also for the trees writhing in the tempest below. You will lose your daughter, he thought, and are as powerless now as when you were a child and your mother cast herself into the sea and left you behind, as on the day your brother died...

Legolas shook his head.

'I thought you would come at once, or not at all,' Elrond went on. 'Were you nursing your heart-break at home, princeling ?'

Legolas flinched this time. Elrond's face was locked again, taunting and mirthless, but Legolas could not help but see his long, nervous fingers, clenching and unclenching in the fine, thick fabric of his opened tunic, or the tightness about his eyes. There was something bruised and damaged about his face, beneath the anger. His eyes, staring into Legolas's, were unbearably keen – and then, suddenly, uncertainty came into his face like a crack.

'Do you not love him ?'

Legolas felt himself shake his head.

'No.'

A pause. Legolas sat somewhere, outside his body.

'Surely you are jesting,' Elrond said, his voice toneless.

Legolas shook his head.

'Why ?' Elrond asked.

Enough, Legolas thought, enough. The air between them was as taut as a bowstring. They had spoken too little or too much and he only wanted to leave, to lose himself, to tire his elven strength until memory itself gave way...back to Mirkwood, dark, tangled Mirkwood where a stream could give you forgetful slumber...He had risen and made for the door; Elrond would not let him go. They stood very close.

'Why ?' Elrond asked. 'It was dishonourable. I was -' His voice fell from anger to grief. Legolas could feel his breath upon his cheeks.

'I would have spared you this pain,' he heard himself say, 'done anything. Renounced you.'

Elrond did not answer, made a sound in his throat. They did not move. Legolas raised his eyes, saw his face, which looked like something shattered and raw, eyes shut.

He leant forward and pressed his lips to Elrond's. He thought he could hear their hearts beating, beating.

'Foolish -' Elrond said tenderly, 'foolish', brokenly. His fingertips, warm and callused, brushed Legolas's cheek. A kiss silenced him.

Then Legolas kissed the side of his neck, just below his jaw.

'I went on your mission. I demand payment.'

Breathing out, almost a sigh. They embraced fiercely in the dark. Some time, later, they fell together entwined and trembling.