Chapter 29: Tindomion part 2

Chapter Text

For Spiced Wine- her wonderful character, Tindómion is making an appearance as a very belated birthday present. He is the illegitimate son of Maglor - but read any of her fabulous works to get totally immersed in her 'verse.

And for Naledi - just because she will enjoy this and it was her birthday too.

Warning: mild slash m/m. Fëanorians and Legolas being his usual hopelessly promiscuous self. If you like a virginal pure Legolas you've probably given up reading ages ago.

Beta: As always, Anarithilen, without whom nothing is possible!

Thanks to those faithful reviewers who continue to encourage and review- freddie, cheeky beak, thislittelpiggy, Melusine and new reviewer, Layne Wolf- thank you for taking the time to review.

Chapter 28: Tindómion.

Gimli and Boromir had long sought their beds and Legolas was still restless; he found himself wishing he were home. He had that nervous energy that was typical before going on a journey or setting off on patrol in the South, a mixture of trepidation and excitement. He sought out Amron for news and company.

He thought the barracks empty until he heard a loud cheer and tracked it down to a card game that Amron was losing heavily to Saeldir. They were surrounded by a merry crowd of Imladrian warriors, a few he knew but most he did not. When he saw Legolas, Amron gave him a rueful smile and shrugged as he passed over a small pouch of coin. Saeldir threw it into the air and caught it cheerfully, slapped Amron on the back and said something to him that Legolas could not catch. Almost immediately, another hand of cards was dealt and a new game had begun.

'Are you joining the game?' said a voice with a smile.

He turned to see the Imladrian lord, Tindómion lounging against a door post, arms folded and his long bronze hair pulled back into one thick braid that reached his hips. There was a slight smile on his full lips and his pale-grey eyes regarded Legolas keenly. Legolas inclined his head slightly in respectful acknowledgment.

'I did not think to,' he said hesitantly, glancing towards the game. A cheer went up as someone threw down a card.

Tindómion raised a mocking eyebrow. 'This is not the courageous Legolas Thranduillion of whom I have heard so much!' His eyes lingered for a moment on Legolas so that Legolas wondered what else he had heard.

He must have look worried for Tindómion said more gently, 'Do not be concerned. Glorfindel speaks very well of you.' He nodded towards the gathered men, intent upon their game. 'Amron says you are a loyal friend who would not leave his comrade in such a dark place as Phellanthir.' His eyes were intense, like molten silver thought Legolas. Tindómion smiled slightly. 'My House has always prized loyalty above all else.' He tilted his head slightly to look into Legolas's eyes.

'My lord Glorfindel is very generous,' he said, thinking Tindómion very fair and noble. A cautious little bit of him called a warning, but the impulsive, thoughtless part of him, which was by far the most, gave a little thump of excitement too that these great warriors had spoken so well of him. He remembered that night Tindómion had sung and how he had wished he was in the Wood and could take a cup of wine to him, draw him aside and suggest they might go elsewhere….

He must have been staring because Tindómion shifted and cast him an oblique glance. 'Do you miss the Wood very much?' He smiled then at Legolas' surprised face and looked away. His striking eyes were vague, dreamy in remembrance. 'I remember the Woodelves from the Last Alliance. Dagorlad…I could hardly breathe for watching their headlong charge…' Legolas stiffened expecting some criticism of his people for that was the story told here. 'I could not believe their courage…they had barely any armour and yet they followed Oropher like he was their God more than their King. It was inspiring…and tragic. They opened up the battle for the rest of us…' He let his gaze settle again on Legolas, linger a little. 'You are too young to have been there I think.'

'Yes. I was not born until long after…I think my father had not thought to raise another child but he says my mother was very persistent.' He smiled.

'You must favour her then. I can see he would not have resisted long,' said Tindómion and Legolas blinked. Had that been an invitation? He was about to reply when they were interrupted.

'Legolas!' Amron had spotted him and beckoned him over and many of the gathered soldiers looked up with interest. 'Have my place, Legolas! I have lost more than I can manage,' he declared woefully, but Legolas caught the gleam in his eyes and there was a shuffle. Saeldir shot him a quick, appraising look and also stood.

Legolas turned his head slightly just in time to catch a half smile from Tindómion and he hesitated, wishing to stay with Tindómion but unsure what the other's intentions were, anxious that he himself may have misunderstood.

'Go,' said Tindómion waving his had towards them. He laughed but it was kind. 'They scent fresh meat.' Tindómion continued. 'They will not be put off now.' He looked over at the gathered crowd and lifted his hand in greeting to another warrior that Legolas did not know. The man nodded in response and came towards them and Tindómion, with a quick smile and slight bow to Legolas, went to meet him. It left Legolas standing on his own and feeling rather easily dismissed. Trying hard to stifle his disappointment, he shrugged, and went to stand with Amron.

'Take my place,' Amron insisted again and as Tindómion made no sign of rejoining Legolas, he sat down on the bench that had been pulled up to the card table.

'And I have won enough from you, Amron, so will give my place to others,' said Saeldir quickly, and cast his cards down on the board. Immediately there were other warriors who squeezed in to take their place and shuffled up to make room for each other. Legolas cast a quick glance at the faces of those who had made way and saw that they were the older, wilier men and it was the younger ones who squeezed onto the benches, hoping to take advantage of a stranger, he had no doubt. Saeldir and Amron were watching, sussing out his game, he thought drily. He had no doubt they would rejoin once they had seen him play and had worked out if it was worth their while.

'And you, my lord? Do you join us?' one of the younger men asked Tindómion eagerly.

Tindómion had moved closer it seemed and looked over the heads of the gathered crowds. He shook his head. 'No indeed! I am still recovering my losses from the last game, albeit that was with Amron and Saeldir.' There was a good-humoured laugh and Legolas glanced about at the merry faces and bright eyes.

For a moment, the whining in his ears intensified and then it dropped away. He frowned and shook his head slightly and it seemed to fade again into the background. But it frayed his nerves a little and he let his Song soothe it into silence.

This is no different from home, he told himself firmly. Like joining a new patrol that does not yet know you. He quashed his disappointment with Tindómion and his appetite for wagering sharpened instead. He narrowed his eyes, watching the cards dealt.

Some time later, he had won a little and then lost a bit so that the gold coins he had won were now piled up in the middle of the table, mingling with the stake bet by the young warrior still in the game. Amron dealt another hand and Legolas saw the trump card, The Magus, peeped from between the lesser cards he held. He stilled his face so none of his opponents would see his delight and carefully concealed it between the lesser cards.

Not long after, his long white knife lay beside the pile of coins and the roulette from Gimli. His oak pendant given him by his father was tangled in his fingers as if he was about to throw that in as a last gamble. He had his chin in his hands despondently and was watching carefully as the warriors around him became careless and boastful. It was down to the second to last card and he threw down the lesser in apparent despair, holding onto The Magus and keeping it turned down, but as he glanced up he caught an amused grey gaze and saw that Tindómion was still there after all and watching him.

'Give up, Mirkwood! You have lost!' someone called and Legolas steeled himself, turned smiling ruefully.

'I have only this left, from my father. Is there nothing else I can wager?' he asked. There were a few ribald comments that surprised him since this was Imladris, but he laughed along with them easily and ignored Amron's wide grin, the knowing glances of the more experienced men.

'I will loan you a coin,' called Tindómion, flipping him a gold coin. 'See what you can do with it!'

Legolas flashed him a dazzling smile and caught it. 'All or nothing?' he suggested to the table. A couple of the players slid each other sidelong glances and bowed out but one of the young warriors, Arelas, picked up Legolas' long white knife and looked at it with a proprietorial glee, weighing it in his hand and looking along the blade critically.

'This is not bad workmanship for a silvan,' he said grudgingly and Legolas narrowed his eyes.

Some of the older warriors around him laughed knowingly and called a warning to the warrior but he shrugged arrogantly. Legolas put the mithril chain back over his head, feeling the oak leaf nestle comfortingly again over his heart and threw in the gold coin given him by Tindómion.

'Go on, I will wager all of what I have won this evening,' said Arelas boastfully. Almost immediately the other remaining warriors shook their heads and withdrew or threw down their cards and a hush fell.

Everything Legolas had lay on the table between them. He lifted the edge of The Magus, just turned up the corner slightly, enough to let the warrior opposite see his face fall and believe that there was no luck with him tonight.

Arelas picked up his own card and glanced at it. 'Give me another,' he said irritated.

'You will still need a stake to play another card,' Amron reminded him softly.

Arelas patted his pockets for a moment and looked in surprise at the pile of coins that spilled over on the table between him and Legolas. He chewed his lip for a moment and then unsheathed an elegant knife that was chased with mithril and about which vines twisted and curled. There was a murmur from his friends and one leaned down and whispered something to him but he laughed contemptuously and waved them away. 'Have this if you win. It was my father's. It is worth more than all your stake put together and better crafted than your silvan workmanship, for it was made by the elven smiths of Ost-in-Edhel.'

'And yet you will wager it upon one card?' said Legolas quietly, raising an eyebrow.

The Imladrian drew another card. He glared at it before flipping it over in disgust. Two of coins. He stared at it for a long moment in silence. Around him, a murmur of consternation from his friends and Amron patted his shoulder comfortingly.

'Your luck has run out,' Amron observed cheerily. 'I did warn you,' he added. Legolas grinned and reached out to pull his hoard towards him.

Arelas put his hand over the knife and stopped Legolas. 'Let me see what you have first.'

'That is not in the rules. You yielded,' Amron called. 'If you wish to see, you have to pay. You cannot pay, you cannot demand to see.'

'I do not mind,' said Legolas and turned over The Magus. Arelas spluttered in outrage.

'That was not the card you drew!' he exclaimed. Legolas smiled and reached for the piles of coins, scooping them towards him.

'You were not watching me carefully enough,' he said simply. 'I held onto this card throughout the game and drew you in by seeming to wager all my higher cards earlier in the game so you thought I only had low cards left. It's an old trick. One I am surprised you did not know.' He grinned cheerfully and flipped Tindómion's gold coin back to him. The Imladrian lord caught it with an answering grin.

Legolas flicked up the knife and looked down its blade critically, much as Arelas had looked at Legolas' own moments before. 'This is not bad workmanship I suppose… for a Noldor smith. Not as fine as dwarvish make though.'

There was an intense silence and Legolas saw the warrior go very still, draw inwards. He paused and then shoved the knife back towards Arelas. 'This should never be staked in a mere game though,' he said gently reproving as he would one of his own young warriors in the Wood who knew no better, ignoring his own stake of white knives and his father's oak pendant. Arelas looked shame-faced and took the knife. He glanced at Legolas but he said nothing.

'You should be grateful, Arelas,' reprimanded Amron. 'What would your mother have said should you have lost that knife?'

'Let that teach you to never underestimate your opponent,' Saeldir said with a note of triumph in his voice that surprised Legolas. 'Now,' Saeldir turned to Legolas with a grin, 'Are you man enough to play a real game?'

Legolas did not reply at first but glanced quickly around to see if Tindómion were still there for despite the earlier rebuff, he would rather pursue a different interest. But the bronze-haired warrior had gone.

Legolas looked down at his cards and the pile of coins a little disappointedly. Then he looked up at Saeldir with a sharp smile. 'Am I still fresh meat to you?' he challenged and the older men now shoved the younger ones out of the way and the real game began.

Some hours later, Legolas' little pile of coins stacked up beside him had begun to dwindle a little but he wanted to listen to the talk which had turned to more recent events, so he stayed a little longer.

'So how is the lord Elladan?' asked Amron, looking up at Saeldir.

Saeldir shrugged. 'They are keeping it very close. Only the high lords know and they are not saying.'

'Not even Glorfindel?'

Amron was dealing a new set of cards, and for a moment, the talk ceased and the players looked, calculated, glanced at each other. But behind him, the talk continued. 'How was he injured?' one younger man asked in a low voice, glancing surreptitiously towards the door. Legolas did not know his name.

And then even lower, voices joined in behind and around him. He did not look up in case they recalled a stranger was in their midst and ceased.

'They came upon a band of Orcs I heard. He and the lord Elrohir.'

'Good thing that Elrohir was there. He would never leave Elladan's side. Not even if it meant his own death.'

'Not just Elladan's though,' another voice said quickly, defensively. 'Remember Taelion?' There was a murmur of voices in agreement and admiration. 'At Námo's doorway he was, but Elrohir would not leave him in spite of being heavily beset. He still brought the poor sod home.' There was a murmur of agreement that had Legolas wondering how it was Elrohir had inspired these men and yet had been so unfairly aggressive towards Legolas himself. Even before the Orc he had sensed it. He scanned his cards and saw there were no major cards. He was bound to lose.

'He pulled me out of a skirmish once. I was beset, four Orcs, and I was injured. He should have left me…'

'He would never leave anyone. Not he. Others might.' There was a silence then, slightly awkward and Legolas wondered what else had gone on before to cause such a strain. But it was clear that these men clearly admired Elrohir, loved him even.

'You might die from his ministrations though!' someone laughed and Amron looked up, caught Legolas' eye and grinned.

'Legolas here was in his care for a bit,' he told the crowd. Then he turned back to Legolas and his face was serious. 'But had you not been, I think the lhach-rhaw would have had you.'

There was a murmur of appreciation, both for Legolas for having had and survived the lhach-rhaw, and for Elrohir. It seemed Legolas was not alone in suffering the dreadful poison.

There was a lull whilst the game proceeded and then someone said, 'I heard it was not Orcs but that Elladan was injured in Phellanthir.'

Legolas looked up, searching for the speaker. It was an Elf he had not seen before, clad in the grey of Imladris and with the argent star on the indigo field* that was its lord's emblem. But before any could ask him further, another voice spoke, a rich and lovely voice.

'And where did you hear such gossip?' Tindómion had returned. Legolas' treacherous and easily led heart gave a little thump and his even more easily led groin gave a quite convincing surge of interest. How he hoped the lord had returned for him!

There was an awkward silence and a shuffling. Then the Elf who had spoken said respectfully, 'I am sorry my lord. I must have misheard.'

'Indeed. It was Erestor and Glorfindel, returning from Phellanthir, who happened upon the brothers.' His voice was very calm, very reassuring, and persuasive. Legolas found himself agreeing and nodding along with everyone else as if this announcement must be the truth.

'As you say, my lord. I had heard that too. There is too much gossip from the kitchens I think.'

'Soldiers should pay no heed to gossip,' Tindómion said but without criticism. He said it as a mere statement and the other soldiers around him murmured agreement. 'No harm,' he smiled at the Elf who had gossiped.

'Thank you my lord,' the Elf bowed slightly, a little flushed but his eyes were full of gratitude and respect and Legolas watched how they fell back slightly for Tindómion as he smiled and gave a slight inclination of the head as he left. His eyes rested momentarily on Legolas and then he turned and withdrew.

But Legolas' inattention had cost him dear and Saeldir threw down a card and teeth gleaming, swept the coins from the table and winked irritatingly. 'Looks like you were too easily distracted,' he said and Amron too grinned.

Legolas gave a rueful smile. 'You are old hands, my friends,' he said and pulled back. 'And I am all out.' He rose to his feet, quietly pleased at how easily he had made his escape. There were good-natured cries of protest but he shook his head. 'I do not wish to lose my shirt and I can see how things are going now.' He laughed at Amron's wide smile and swept his remaining coins into his palm, shoved them into the pocket of his tunic and patted them comfortably.

He made his way towards the doorway and found Tindómion lounging by the door as he left, arms folded. 'You have a nice little hoard there,' the lord observed.

Legolas grinned cockily. Tindómion would surely not have returned unless he had an interest, he thought. And that last look was definitely an invitation, he told himself forgetting all his good intentions. 'I would have lost it had I stayed. They were letting me build up a pile and then would have drawn me in. It is an old trick,' he replied and paused for a moment to stand beside Tindómion. Warmth on his arm, in his belly, in his irrepressible groin. He threw caution to the wind and slid an oblique look at the stern, handsome lord and edged a bit closer.

Tindómion looked at him, standing too close to be strictly polite, and then said, 'The Hall of Fire is merry tonight. Bilbo is…'

A little flutter beat in Legolas' chest and he gave a hopeful smile, his eyes on Tindómion's. 'I know. I have been with the Hobbits all afternoon and I fear I have heard the song too many times to give it the appreciation it deserves.' He looked up at the stars which were hard and bright above him. 'I had thought to walk in the gardens.' Then he added, for good effect and to remind his companion of his impending journey, 'I cannot think I will have many such opportunities in the days ahead.' He made sure there was the slightest tinge of regret in his voice and again looked up at the stars for the full effect.

As he wished, there was a silence and then he watched from the corner of his eye Tindómion bow his head slightly and Legolas hoped it was sorrow that he would soon be leaving. What he did not see was the smile smothered quickly and the gleam in the other's eye.

Tindómion said, 'I have some very good wine from Lindon.' He paused, gave Legolas a quick glance and then said, 'If you wish, you could join me? Unless you truly do wish to stare at the stars all night?'

'No. Wine is much better,' he said with rather more enthusiasm than sophistication, and followed Tindómion from the barracks through the stables and into the gardens and terraces of Imladris. But when he stole a look at the Imladrian lord, Tindómion's strange, intense silver-grey eyes met Legolas', confident, inviting. His hair, like burnished bronze, was pulled back into a triple-braid, thick and long but it was indeed the style of a First Age warrior and Legolas wondered at his story.

'I would deem it an honour, my lord,' he answered regaining his dignity, and then added conversationally, because he thought there should be some conversation, 'You spoke of my people's courage in the battle of Dagorlad,' he said. 'Perhaps, if it is not an impertinence to ask, you will tell me how you came to be in the service of Gil-Galad and Lindon, and thence to Imladris.'

There was barely a flinch but it was there nonetheless and Legolas cursed himself inwardly.

'Forgive me. I am careless,' he said quickly, realising that he had trespassed upon something he had not expected. For it was at Gil-Galad's name that his companion had flinched… there was something here that the stories had not told. 'Perhaps you would rather I did not…'

'There is nothing to forgive,' Tindómion interrupted him quickly, but there was a weight of regret in his eyes. 'Indeed, it is a blessing to talk of those days… to remember Gil.'

It was the use of the familiar Gil that made Legolas realise then; there had been love between this great lord and his king. Suddenly his lust seemed cheap and too great an intrusion. Legolas cursed himself.

'Forgive me,' he said and could not help but press his hand against Tindómion's heart as if he could heal the wound he had opened. 'How stupid I am!'

'No…' Tindómion protested and cupped Legolas' hand with his so that Legolas felt Tindómion's heart beat steadily in his chest. 'No. Do not think it is you who hurts me…I have never quite…reconciled to it. Even now, I cannot believe that one so vibrant, so full of power and life could be…How Eru allowed it…'

Words deserted Legolas then and he felt overwhelmed with compassion, with the sorrow in Tindómion's voice, the loneliness, and he leaned closer to the other Elf, wanting to soothe, to give a little comfort.

Tindómion smiled slightly. 'Share a cup of wine with me before you leave Imladris. It will be a kindness to let me tell you of him.'

Legolas glanced up. 'If you will not see it as an intrusion,' he said.

Tindómion's lips parted as if he would speak more but he only said, 'It was long ago and it is only a cup of wine.' But his voice belied the words and Legolas thought his grief for Gil-Galad beyond repair. He wondered if they had been lovers but he could not imagine the High-King of the Noldor so recklessly breaking his own people's laws and once again, he felt a deep pity for the Noldor so hide-bound by these restrictions and prohibitions that the Wood had never felt.

The cold fragrance of mint and camomile lay on the air and Tindómion led Legolas along a wide, paved path to a high terrace above a waterfall, and then wide elegant steps that swept up to the upper floors of the House. A verandah ran along the edge of the House here, so delicate and elegant it seemed impossible for it to hold any weight or to give any substance to the House. The waterfall fell in a long silver stream nearby and the quiet roar of falling water filled the air. Spray misted the verandah in the late night and the stars glittered on a velvet sky.

'These are my rooms,' said Tindómion, indicating a run of long windows that opened onto the verandah on one side and over the gorge of the Bruinen on the other. 'Glorfindel and others of Elrond's captaincy are lodged here also. And his sons when they are here.'

Legolas looked around him in alarm. 'Do you share rooms?' he asked warily, certainly not wishing to run into Elrohir Elrondion, not even if a cup of wine really did only mean a cup of wine.

Tindómion smiled. 'No, of course not. These are mine and next door is Glorfindel. We are old friends.' He turned and leaned on the rail of the verandah and looked out over the peaceful valley. Frost was in the air and the sounds from the Hall of Fire below were still audible, a strain of some lovely melody drifted out over the lawns and a voice sang. Legolas breathed in, sighed. The tinny ringing in his ears had stopped completely he realised, and he felt his body strong and bounding with energy. He stretched enjoyably and turned to Tindómion to find he stood very close to the warrior, close enough to feel his breath, the heat from him. Silver-grey eyes looked at him, but it seemed to Legolas that he might look right through him to his soul.

'I was curious at first,' Tindómion said quietly, his face very close to Legolas'. Legolas stared at the full lips as they moved, rapt, barely listening at first. '…why Mithrandir was so determined it should be you who has this great honour. Why it should be Mirkwood that destroys Ash Nazg.'

Legolas shot him a quick look for he too had wondered why he was chosen above so many other great and powerful warriors in Imladris. There was Glorfindel of course, and Erestor, the Sons of Thunder and of course Tindómion himself to name but a few. And then he realised that Tindómion must have been amongst those who offered their swords. He dipped his head for he was only an archer from the Wood and had done no great deeds. The greatest deed he had done so far had been to garner his courage and go to the Dragon in his lair; indeed he had fired not even one shot. *

But Tindómion put an elegant finger beneath his chin and lifted his head. 'Do not doubt your worth Legolas Thranduillion. You have the Gift of Song. You hear it, do you not?' Legolas raised his eyes to this great lord's with his bronze hair and silver-grey eyes and almost melted. He leaned in a little closer and heard the great breath of the Sea, a flare of wildfire roaring somewhere, an abyss of furious, tumultuous grief and a war-drum pounding like the heartbeat of the greatest warriors riding over the plains to meet headlong some dreadful enemy of the First Age. But oh, that grief! The grief drowned him…He blinked and pulled back a little, knowing he could be submerged. This was not Tindómion's song; he knew… this was something else… someone else… so deeply intertwined, blood calls to blood. ** This he knew. He shook himself a little, pushing away the threads of that haunting Song that pulled at him, drew him in, close…

Tindómion regarded him closely, with understanding. 'You hear it now… And that is why Mithrandir is right. And at last Elrond sees it, and can help put right his crime.' He saw Legolas' confusion and thinned his lips. 'It is Elrond's fault that the Ring still exists. Better he had tipped Isildur into the Fire with the Ring than let him keep it. It was all for nothing.' He turned away bitterly and looked out over the faded lawns to the cold roar of the Bruinen as it plunged through the gorge below. 'All the slaughter, all the blood…your grandfather, your people… my king…it made it all for nothing…And here we are again.'

Legolas chewed his lip; he did not like to think that Elrond was wrong, although he had certainly heard his father curse the Imladrian lord with similar accusations over the years. To utter such words in his own House felt like treason.

Tindómion breathed in and shook his head as if sensing Legolas' discomfort. 'Do not fear. I have said as much to Elrond himself on more than one occasion. But I will tell him it is right that you go. You have a lightness, a sweetness and loyalty that will be stronger against the Ring than any great Power. For Power calls to Power and it seeks weakness in those that want it and do not have it…Boromir is like Isildur, more than Aragorn will ever be. He will be a danger to the Quest….' Tindómion's voice was a little distant, as if lost in thought. 'You will go to Mordor with them I can see. You will not leave them though it brings you great peril.' When Tindómion smiled, his eyes refocused and he looked upon Legolas with respect, admiration. 'That loyalty is deserving of great honour.

Legolas glanced down at the fiery star emblem on the Imladrian lord's rich tunic and only then did he frown, thinking it looked familiar. But he had never been the most attentive student, preferring always to be amongst the trees, outside, tracking, shooting, hunting - almost anything but spending time in the quiet of his father's study or library. He pressed his lips together annoyed at his own ignorance and only just caught the fleeting, indefinable look in Tindómion's extraordinary eyes.

'Forgive me,' said Legolas quickly for he thought it might be disappointment that he had not recognised the man's lineage. 'I am only an archer from the Woodland Realm.' He smiled ruefully, hopefully. 'I do not recognise your sigil.'

Tindómion raised an amused eyebrow and with an elegant hand traced the emblem on his breast. 'This is the star of Fëanor.' He watched Legolas' face as Legolas frowned first, puzzled at what that might mean that Tindómion wore the star of that accursed House. Slowly then, his lips parted and he looked up at Tindómion, mouth open in wonder and disbelief. Then, leaning in so that Legolas could feel his warm breath on his skin, Tindómion said in a low, teasing voice, 'You do know how perilous we were? How accursed? Do you not fear to stand with the son of Maglor, for that is who I am. Tindómion Istelion Maglorion.'

Legolas stared into the silver-grey eyes that were full of fire that would not be banked. Kinslayer? he thought with an excited frisson that he knew he should not feel. But in truth he had always admired the Fëanorians' stand against Morgoth, their brilliance and daring, their great tragedies of battles, Fingon and Maedhros' friendship. And he did not think Tindómion was a Kinslayer, whatever his kinship with those who were. He took a breath and said, 'Should I fear to stand with you? You seem fair and noble. You have given me no reason to fear you.'

'Then you are not paying attention.' Tindómion bent his head slightly towards Legolas, his mouth close enough to touch. 'Do you not fear damnation? My House has never obeyed anyone's Laws but our own.'

Legolas found himself staring in astonishment and shivered with delightful anticipation. 'The Wood has its own laws,' he said rather too quickly in what he hoped was a sophisticated and seductive voice but thought it sounded too breathy to be anything but youthful lust. And then he said for good measure, 'And none of us obey those either.'

'Lawless and dangerous indeed are the Elves of the Wood,' Tindómion said amused, and his voice was rich and low. His breath shivered over Legolas' neck so he felt himself turn liquid, tremble with excitement. Tindómion tilted his head to look into Legolas's wide eyes. 'But is not your father the King? Do you not obey his laws?'

Oh, he did not want to think about his father right now! All he wanted to do was to swoon into Tindómion's arms and grapple with him. 'We do not really have a King but an Aran.…' He stared into those silver eyes, rapt and breathless and wishing he could just stop talking but his mouth just kept on going. 'Like a chief. Not like the Noldor kings, like …' He stopped himself before he could blurt out the name and found himself silenced far more effectively by Tindómion's mouth pressed on his.

Legolas turned into him, hands on Tindómion's shoulders, slid them down his muscular swordsman's arms and gripped his wrists. They stood for a moment, locked in a rigid embrace. Then suddenly Legolas pulled Tindómion in tight so their bodies pressed together as tightly as their mouths. He pushed his tongue between Tindómion's lips and the Fëanorian opened up to him and sucked Legolas' tongue. He was shoved up against the wall and whilst he fumbled with the buckles of Tindómion's belt, his own tunic buckles came so easily undone under Tindómion's hands as if they had unwrapped themselves from his body and his tunic fell open to his belt. Cold air peaked his nipples and he suddenly became aware of how exposed they were on this high verandah above the House. And next to Glorfindel's rooms. And Elrohir's.

Legolas pulled away for a moment, panting, throbbing with lust and desire. His head felt dizzy. 'Wait…What about Glorfindel?'

Tindómion lifted his head, hot silver eyes wide and raised an eyebrow. 'He will not want to join us,' he said slowly in an amused voice. 'He keeps the Laws with ease.'

Legolas chewed his lip in consternation, embarrassed at being misunderstood, horrified at the idea of being seen by Glorfindel like this and aroused all at the same time. But Tindómion merely laughed at his expression of conflicted lust and pulled Legolas after him towards the door of his rooms, threw it open and dragged Legolas inside. He slammed the door shut with his foot and pressed Legolas back against it.

'Get out of…this,' he said breathlessly, tugging at Legolas' belt and then tunic. The belt clattered to the floor, spilling small knives and darts onto the stone. They both stared for a moment and then looked at each other, and laughed a little.

Legolas shrugged out of his moss suede tunic and threw it from him, standing in only his linen shirt and breeches. Pulling off one boot, he threw it after his tunic and then hopped on that foot to pull off the other boot.

'Come here,' whispered Tindómion, his breath came heavily in short pants and Legolas could feel his hardness beneath the breeches.

He kicked away his boots and fell against Tindómion. His hands scrabbled beneath the shirt, pulled the hem from the waistband and sought warm skin. There was hard muscle, sinew, strength. Legolas breathed in the heady musk and gazed into Tindómion's silver-grey eyes, half closed in lust. His full lips were parted and his warm skin flushed. Legolas thought him beautiful and fascinating. Fëanorian. Maglorion.

He reached up and pulled Tindómion's long hair free of its braids, dragging his fingers through the heavy bronze silk. It fell straight and gleaming around the other's shoulders, made him look strangely vulnerable, younger than his years. Leaning forwards then, he tugged Tindómion's head towards him, pulling him in, crushing their mouths against each other.

Suddenly there was a hammering on the door. 'Istel?'

Unaccountably, Legolas felt his heart leap in his breast. Tindómion lifted his head from Legolas' and looked past him to the door.

'Istellion!' The voice cried again and it was full of distress.

With a brief, concerned glance at Legolas, Tindómion pulled away and strode towards the door, pulling his shirt back over his shoulders and smoothing his long hair back into place. Legolas leaned back against the wall and let his head rest against it. He tried not to let his irritation show but he was full of lust and the voice did not sound like it was going away soon.

'It is Elrohir,' Tindómion called back over his shoulder and Legolas gasped. He could not bear for Elrohir to find him like this, like a wild woodelf who knew no better and cared nothing for the customs of his hosts. He shoved his shirt back into his breeches, fumbling with the ties and then he scooped up his tunic, dragging it over his head. But already the door was opening and he could see Elrohir's silhouette standing in the doorway, his head bowed, leaned against Tindómion's shoulder.

'…cannot bear to see him like this, Istel…'

Legolas could only hear part because his tunic was stuck over his head and he shoved his arms upward, scrambling to find the armholes.

'…I have someone here,' Tindómion was saying in a low voice that Legolas knew he was not expected to hear. 'He will understand. Let me ….'His voice dropped still lower.

'Forgive me, Istel. I did not mean…I do not think I can …He is so still and cold!' It was a suppressed sob and Legolas suddenly felt intensely uncomfortable. He dragged his tunic on and quickly scanned the room for escape.

But it was too late and Tindómion walked into the room, one hand on Elrohir's arm and concern on his lovely face. He jerked his head at Legolas with an apologetic smile just at the moment Elrohir raised his grey eyes and caught sight of Legolas, tunic half undone and barefoot. He stared and his face flushed with anger. He did not speak but Legolas knew it was only Tindómion's presence that restrained him.

Tindómion, standing next to Elrohir, threw his arm around Elrohir's shoulder and inclined his head towards Legolas. Warningly, thought Legolas. Protectively. Tindómion's loyalty was clear, to Elrohir whom he had known forever, not to some brief flirtation that was Legolas. Legolas could not blame him.

At Tindómion's touch however, Elrohir seemed to crumble a little and Legolas looked away, not looking at the devastation in Elrohir's eyes, not wanting to see, to feel. Nor did he want to be simply dismissed.

'I think I had best leave,' he said awkwardly.

Tindómion gave Legolas a quick, rueful smile. 'Yes, probably for the best.…' He trailed off and Legolas was left standing there uncomfortably, feeling that it was he who intruded. He felt a strange and intense prickling of jealousy that surprised him and made him cross.

He thought he should pull on his boots but it would mean hopping around on one foot and then the other, so instead he stood very straight-backed and inclined his head slightly towards the Noldor Elves. Tindómion smiled regretfully but Elrohir was cold. Cold and angry. Legolas felt an answering anger kindle in his heart and his lip curled.

'Elladan is…' Tindómion started to explain to Legolas but Elrohir stopped him.

'Do not speak of this now, Istel. ' Elrohir's voice sounded harsh with pain, half choked and suddenly Legolas was overwhelmed with unexpected compassion. He almost reached out to Elrohir, almost spoke but the emotion was forcing its way from his belly into his chest and throat, so his throat dried and words would not come.

Instead he merely inclined his head once more, grabbed his boots and walked out of the room, through the door, down the wide stone steps that swept out onto a lower terrace, and across a lawn where he hopped about to pull on his boots. He returned to the sanctuary that was his own room and there he found release from his unspent lust with thoughts of burnished bronze hair and silver eyes…but thoughts of Elrohir intruded over and over and in the end it was a blur of bronze and night-silk, of silver and grey and he slept fitfully, tossing and turning restlessly until the grey dawn heralded the bleakest Yule he had ever known.

tbc.

* This is Russandol's emblem for Elrond that she has kindly lent me although I skipped the golden petals simply because it would have been overly detailed for this tiny bit.

* This refers of course to Black Arrow that tells how Thranduil made a pact with Smaug. The tattoos are connected although I haven't written Legolas' part in this fic yet.

**In Spiced Wine's glorious stories, Maglor is alive and Tindómion his son who he knows nothing of. It is of course part of Maglor's song that Legolas hears. Read it and wonder how you could have missed it all these years!

Only one or possibly two more chapters of this.

The story of how Elladan became so gravely ill in Phellanthir is told in'Through a glass darkly,'