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lotr_sesaTitle: Winter Game
Author: Talullah Red
Category: FPS, Elladan/Thranduil
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They're JRR Tolkien heirs' and God knows who else's. No disrespect intended. No profit made.
Summary: Elladan goes on a mission to Mirkwood.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
minuial_nuwing, who requested "Elladan/Thranduil or Gildor/Erestor, a cold night, a warm blanket, and four cats."
Beta:alexcat - thank you so much!
Mirkwood, Third Age 2940
Elladan realized something wasn’t quite right when he saw Thranduil’s soldiers and servants running around with somber faces, as if they were looking for something. He had arrived two days ago, time enough to confirm that life in Thranduil’s realm had not changed much from his last visit. Outside, the soldiers fought bravely to keep darkness at bay, but inside merriment and the love for good wine and fine song were the norm, especially now, with Yule coming. But not this afternoon.
As Elladan walked the corridors from his room into the hall, he realized something was wrong. He tried asking a couple of times, but, keeping to their manner, Thranduil’s people politely ignored him as they hurried by.
In the main hall, Thranduil paced up and down, listening to reports of those coming and giving instructions to those leaving. Elladan approached him and waited for a few moments. Thranduil promptly interrupted the conversation and addressed Elladan.
“Pardon us, but we have a small emergency,” Thranduil said. “Rodwen,” he called to one of his advisors, “Please show our guest the maps we were discussing yesterday.”
Elladan realized Thranduil was trying to divert him from whatever it was happening, but he was having none of it.
“Who is missing? I heard something about a search? Can I help?” he intervened, as Rodwen walked toward them.
Thranduil shook his head. “It is nothing. Now please, follow Rodwen, she can-”
Before he could finish the sentence, Elladan spotted Legolas, the king’s middle son, and headed toward the door, where a group was preparing to leave. He said over his shoulder, “I’ll just join this party, King Thranduil,” and left before the king could say a word. Legolas and some of the other elves raised an eyebrow, but wasted no time in welcoming him and heading out.
“Another pair of eyes won’t hurt,” said Legolas.
“Who is the little one we are looking for? That was all I could gather from the halls, that a child was missing,” Elladan asked. He had met Legolas a few times before, and while their acquaintance was superficial, he felt that the king’s son did not embrace his father’s attitude of reserve toward other elven realms.
“It’s my younger brother, Hallothon. He has been missing since midafternoon. With dusk coming and the clouds promising snow-“
“And a new nest of spiders we just discovered less than a league from here –” completed another elf.
“We’d better be going, then,” Elladan said.
The party went into the woods. They searched high and low, but they only saw the lights of other elves, searching at a distance. There wasn’t the slightest sign of the passage of a child. Night had fallen and the first snowflakes floated in the air. They were about to call it a night, when a shiver ran down Elladan’s spine. Whatever had touched him, had had the same effect on the other elves. Of a sudden they formed a circle, facing outward, and drew their weapons.
The fight was swift. Elladan was impressed with the way the group moved as one, against the lone spider that came from the canopy. When they were done with it, they searched the area. A sac made from spider silk hung heavy from a tree. It was the right size for a small child, Elladan thought, the night air suddenly feeling colder.
Legolas cut it open with his hunting knife but from inside fell a deer fawn. Relief washed over them.
“Come, time to go home,” he said. “The main nest should be close. We’ll clean it after it snows, it will make them slower.”
When they arrived at Thranduil’s halls, the mood had considerably lifted. Thranduil met them at the gates with a child on his arm. The blond hair and blue eyes left little doubt to who it was.
“Prince Hallothon,” Elrohir said, bowing. He had not yet seen the elfling.
Hallothon giggled.
“Now son, be polite,” Thranduil urged. “Lord Elladan went out into the forest in search for you. You gave us all quite a scare.”
Hallothon bowed his head slightly toward Elladan, and then hid his face in his father’s hair, holding his neck with his tiny arms.
“I owe you thanks for your goodwill,” Thranduil said, “but we will talk when you are warm and rested.”
Elladan bowed and left to his rooms. As he left, he could hear Thranduil talking to Legolas and the other members of the party with warmth and concern.
After a well-deserved hot bath, Elladan made an effort to dress. He felt sluggish and with little head for diplomacy and yet another formal meal. Duty first, he reminded himself. He went down to the dining hall but to his surprise, Thranduil welcomed him with much more warmth than on the previous nights.
The conversation was lively until the spiders were mentioned.
“They are getting closer,” Thranduil said. “We keep constant patrol all year round and each winter we make a thorough search on a radius of 5 leagues, when they are much slower, but we’re too few to cover the whole of the woods and they are too imbued with dark power to yield as easily as cobwebs on a spring clean.”
“You have been holding on remarkably,” Elladan said.
Thranduil nodded and the conversation moved on.
Later in the evening, Elladan went back to his room. He was happy with the turn of events and felt that his trip might still be worthwhile. As he turned the last corner in the long corridor, he saw a flash of blond hair and a white sleeping gown. Prince Hallothon. Elladan smiled, thinking of the mischief Elrohir and he could raise at that age. Still, the boy had been missing that day. Elladan passed the door to his room and followed on.
“Here, kitty, kitty…” he heard Hallothon call. “Come on, pussy, where are you?”
Elladan smiled. “Might I help you, your Highness?”
Hallothon turned, startled. At first he looked down to his slippers, but then he raised his chin, as regal as his father.
“My kitten, Caethel, she’s run away again. But you mustn’t tell Father.”
“Shall I help you find her?” Elladan offered, worrying about how cold it was starting to feel, even inside, and Hallothon only in a nightgown.
The elfling nodded yes, and held Elladan’s hand. They kept going down the corridor, calling for the cat. Fortunately, Elladan caught the sight of a black and white tail showing from the hem of a tapestry.
“Might that be her?” he asked Hallothon.
“Caethel!!” Hallothon shouted, making the tail curl and hide.
Elladan laughed. “Alright, I’ll help you, won’t that be better?” he said to Hallothon.
“No, I can do it,” Hallothon replied. He tried to pick Caethel up but ended up chasing her a few steps down the corridor before Elladan caught her.
“Now, shall we go and find your room? You can’t disappear again today, unless you want to scare your father to death…”
Hallothon nodded. “I know. It’s just that Caethel hides a lot and I have to find her.”
Elladan took the elfling’s hand in his own and let him lead him down the unending corridors of Thranduil’s halls. After a few turns, he was hopelessly lost, but Hallothon seemed to know his way well enough. The child chattered about his cats, asked him questions about Imladris and about the adventure in the woods with the spider, and about his travels. Elladan happily replied. Hallothon was wonderfully curious and vivacious. They arrived at Hallothon’s door as Thranduil was leaving the room.
“Son! Again? Have I not told you not to do that? I was worried sick!” Thranduil said as Hallothon ran to his arms.
Behind Thranduil a woman twisted her hands. “My Lord, I only looked away for one second, to put the little prince’s clothes away. I don’t know how this could happen twice in one day. He was already in bed and all.”
Thranduil sighed. “Yes, alright, we’ll talk later. You may go now.” He picked Hallothon from the floor. “Now, off to bed with you. I have to gobble you.” Thranduil made as if he was going to bite Hallothon but ended up blowing a raspberry on his neck.
Hallothon giggled and squirmed. “No, daddy, no!”
Thranduil opened the door and entered the room, carrying Hallothon. Elladan stood in the hallway, still holding the cat in his arms. “What about this one?” he asked, as Thranduil put Hallothon in bed.
Thranduil sighed. “She keeps running away and Hallothon keeps getting in trouble because of her. I wish she would just stay put like the other three.”
Elladan came closer to the bed and saw three black and white kittens all bundled up next to Hallothon, on the warm blanket. He placed the vagabond kitten right next to them. She immediately cuddled with the others, rubbing her nose on Hallothon’s hand.
“Hey, want to know a secret?” Elladan asked.
Hallothon nodded yes.
Elladan knelt by the bed and whispered in Hallothon’s ear. “Don’t worry, she’s not running away. You can just wait for her to come back to you and tell you all about her adventures.”
Hallothon giggled. “Cats can’t talk,” he said.
Elladan winked. “Smart little one you are. But you can imagine it, her adventures… maybe even draw them?”
Hallothon nodded enthusiastically.
“So you won’t run off again and scare your daddy?”
Hallothon said no with his head and yawned.
“Alright, I’ll be off now, so that your daddy can tell you a story.”
Hallothon stretched his arms and hugged Elladan’s neck. “I like you,” he said.
Elladan smiled and said, “Do you want to play slay spiders tomorrow? If daddy says yes, of course,” he added, looking at Thranduil.
Thranduil paused, but before he could utter a polite refusal, Hallothon said, “Pleeeaase??”
Even the kittens raised their heads from the blanket and stared at Thranduil. “Of course,” he replied, beaten, “But remember Lord Elladan is a guest and will have other things to do.”
“Promise,” Hallothon said, snuggling down.
As Elladan left the room, charmed by the elfling, he was acutely aware that Thranduil’s graciousness was little more than a thin layer of veneer over his renowned aloofness towards strangers. He heard Hallothon say. “I am so tired, Daddy. Just one story tonight,” and smiled. He highly doubted that, remembering all too well his childhood and later, Arwen’s. However, he decided to wait.
Slowly, he traced back a few of his steps towards his room, knowing that he would probably get lost, if he made a real try. However, his thoughts ran elsewhere. Thranduil had, unwillingly, that much was obvious, showed a breach in his armour. Elladan was Elrond’s son, and knew a thing or two about diplomatic endeavours. For instance, striking iron while it’s hot was generally a good idea.
To his surprise, his loitering in the corridor was short-termed. Hallothon must have really been tired, after the long day, because, by Elladan’s reckoning, there had only been time for one story.
Thranduil caught him leaning against a wall. “May I help you?” he asked, his regal tone resurfacing.
Elladan wondered if the breach had been closed, but he decided to press on. “Yes. I am… quite lost, I’m afraid.”
Thranduil bowed his head and led Elladan back to his room, through the maze of corridors, in perfect silence. Elladan wondered if he should break the silence, perhaps compliment him on the elfling, but, although he had liked Hallothon immensely, and his words would surely be true, it was a cheap shot. He didn’t like cheap shots and Thranduil would never go for it. So, he followed his host in silence.
When they arrived at Elladan’s door, Thranduil made to leave, but Elladan asked him in.
Thranduil was clearly expecting his contact with his guest to be over, but Elladan pressed on. “I won’t bite,” he said.
Reluctantly, Thranduil entered the chamber. Elladan offered him a chair next to the cozy fire while he served them the wine that had been left on the dresser. One thing that had to be said about the Woodland Realm was that despite its lack of interest in foreign relations and cooperation, they did know how to host.
Elladan sat in front of Thranduil. He now was certain of what to do. In fact, looking at the way Thranduil had sagged ever so slightly in his chair, he even knew it would be easier than he had anticipated. But he didn’t feel like pressing his hand. Exploitation was never a good idea and neither was excessive eagerness. He smiled to himself, as he handed Thranduil his glass. Had Elrohir been in his stead, he would be by now enumerating all the points of their agenda and Thranduil would be leaving the room.
They sat in silence for a long while. Despite the long day, Elladan felt quite alert. At first he gazed at the fire. Then, at his wine. Thranduil seemed to be relaxing more and more, letting go of the need of dealing with yet another task and just enjoying the warmth, the quietude. Good.
From Thranduil’s chair came a deep sigh. “This was nice,” he said. “I really needed a moment. In my room, a pile of paperwork awaits. It’s that time of year… I wonder whomever thought it would be a good idea to close the year’s accounts, renew the various licensings, define strategy, activities and budget for the next year and coordinate festivities all in this one month. I’m sure you know all about it. Your father used to have the same predicament, in fact, even Gil-galad, in my youth…”
Elladan nodded. “Aye.”
“So, what will it cost me, this bit?” Thranduil asked, still relaxed in his chair.
Elladan smiled. “An hour delay in signatures. You really ought to think about delegating. Not that Father delegates,” he added with a grin.
“Lord Elladan. We both know what this is. There was a situation, an opportunity, shall we call it, and you maneuvered me into getting time alone, at an hour I am not at my sharpest.”
“True. And I gave you wine, to lower your sharpness further. Come to think of it, that, combined with a dim lit room and the warmth of the firelight actually sounds more like an amorous maneuver than a diplomatic one. Except that I am not a whore.”
Thranduil’s laugh sounded close to a bark. “At least you didn’t use my child as conversation bait.”
“It crossed my mind, but it was low. He’s a sweet little fellow.”
“So, what are you really offering? And what is it that you want?”
“I need an answer, and we both know what I, Imladris, expects. I know you are not going to give it to me tonight, but I can’t press it enough: can we coordinate efforts and vanquish our common enemies?”
“The wizard has pressed the same matter. I still say let the dragon sleep. You should focus on Dol Guldur and if they came north, we’d gladly hold them. Smaug is not going to awake unless we make him and I don’t want that. Besides, Sauron is not its master.”
“They are of the same… family.”
“A family of darkness and evil. Not much of an argument there for familiar solidarity.” Thranduil moved to rise.
“They too have common interests, but come, now, we have discussed this and we will again tomorrow, with your advisors. Nothing new will be said, I am sure.” Elladan reached out and held Thranduil’s hand. “Stay a few moments longer.”
Thranduil remained half-seated. “It is late. I need to rest and so do you.”
“Do you sleep? At all?” Elladan asked.
Thranduil sat back. “Sometimes,” he conceded. “Actually, tonight I do feel sleepy,” he added, suppressing a yawn. “Did you slip something into my wine?”
It was Elladan’s time for a mirthless chuckle. “No need for that… The Gift of Lúthien.”
“Ah, of course. I hadn’t realized that you had inherited some of your family’s extraordinary endowments.”
Elladan held Thranduil’s stare. “I did. Some.”
“So you took pity on me and decided to put me to sleep.”
Elladan cringed. “Not pity, no. If I offered you gold and jewels, would that be pity?”
“That would be condescension and bribery.” Thranduil’s voice was smooth and low. Elladan thought he looked vaguely amused.
“Yes, it would,” he was forced to agree. “Yet, most people would see it as a perfectly normal gift within diplomatic relationships.” Elladan realized he was breathing too fast and becoming defensive. “Well, it looks like I am not going to give you the Gift of Lúthien after all, at least not this night.”
“I should go, then, if you have nothing to offer.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.
Elladan knew the match was played, for the night, and that he had lost. He had expected the Woodland King to be tough, and Thranduil had not disappointed him. It was a good thing they still had some time. The game was not over.
Elladan rose and bowed. “A good evening to you.”
Thranduil crossed his legs and reclined further into the chair. “Are you inviting me out?”
Suddenly, Elladan felt very tired. “That would be rude of me,” he replied.
Thranduil smiled and rose too. “A good night, then.”
Elladan spent the next morning in the same fruitless meetings he had the day before. Rodwen followed him around, trying to keep him out of Thranduil’s way, introducing him to increasingly less senior staff and showering with unnecessary detail about irrelevant matters. Elladan was almost amused, recalling how his father had used similar tactics with an emissary from Moria when they had tried to raise the mithril price. Erestor had to play Rodwen’s part then, and had not been grateful for the opportunity. Now Elladan endured his turn.
As Rodwen filled the time with increasingly more difficulty, Elladan pondered on the merits of his mission, not for the first time. There was, of course, the possibility that his father and Gandalf were wrong in assuming that attacking solely Dol Guldur would not be effective. The dragon might not wake at all and respond to aid the Necromancer. Or he might, and devastate Dale and then Mirkwood. In that instance, Thranduil would be responsible for giving up his people as bait, a strategy that had won them the Last Alliance, at the expense of Oropher’s life, and of his contingent’s.
Thranduil was not without faults and his policy of isolationism was a very sore point for any Imladrian, but Elladan had to concede one thing – they had not been as outreaching as they could have been, either, especially Lothlórien. The fact was that they had only a faint idea of what could be used to persuade Thranduil. This was why Elladan had chosen an unusual approach: on the day of his arrival, right after the mandatory niceties, he had laid out the full plan before Thranduil’s eyes, holding nothing back to negotiate.
What Mirkwood could gain from the attack on the south was an easing of the increasing darkness permeating the forest and spreading north. But on the north… bringing war to one’s doors with no assurance. Divide the enemy to vanquish it was an old and proven strategy, but Elladan could see Thranduil’s reserve – his gains were much lower and his risks much higher than those of Lothlórien or Imladris. And this was why it was needed a change in perspective, for both of them.
Elladan managed to escape Rodwen’s wing after lunch. As they were leaving the dining hall, she had been momentarily distracted by a note that demanded reply and Elladan had skulked through the corridors to the courtyard. He needed fresh air lest he died of boredom. The sound of high-pitched laughter drew him until he turned a corner and found Legolas sparring with Hallothon, with wooden swords.
Both brothers turned to face him.
“Elladan, well met!” said Legolas, still laughing.
Hallothon ran to him with his wooden sword pointed. “Die, evil spider!!”
Elladan caught him just in time and tossed him up. The elfling’s uncontrollable laughter brought on his own. Legolas came closer and Elladan threw the delighted elfling into his arms.
“Moooore!” Hallothon demanded amidst a fit of giggles. Legolas and Elladan immediately complied, getting more giggles as a reward.
Then Elladan started playing a menacing spider and both brothers attacked. A few moments later, Rodwen found them.
“Lord Elladan, if you will accompany me… we still have the maps to mark…”
“Don’t worry, Lady Rodwen,” Legolas replied. “We’ll take on your job for a while.”
Elladan chuckled as Rodwen left flustered.
“What?” Legolas asked, feigning innocence. “Did I say something wrong?”
Elladan winked and they continued playing, until the afternoon turned colder and darker and Hallothon’s nanny came for him.
“I enjoyed this bit,” Legolas said to Elladan as they made to part. “Your mission may not be as hopeless as you think… I think you’re right, both foes should go down. You know, it’s a funny thing how commodity prices keep going up and the gold’s going down… And it’s such a shame that we are so dependent on importations for grain and wine… Were we, let’s say, to regain trade of wood, furs, game and skins with wealthy, grateful dwarven neighbours, we could restore our external balance.”
“Thank you, Legolas,” Elladan said, not quite able to fully hide his surprise. “Will you get in trouble for this?”
“I most certainly will,” Legolas said, shrugging. “Although, I am pretty sure that with a few more days you would realize the full extent of our predicament, it is still bordering treason. But don’t worry, I’m always in some kind of trouble with my father.” Legolas winked and went his own way, leaving Elladan to ponder.
That night, after dinner, Elladan roamed the corridors. He knew it would be very unlikely that he would have another chance to break through Thranduil’s armour. Maybe the wisest thing was to engage in some kind of negotiation regarding eventual war spoils – Legolas was still young enough not to consider it, but the fact was that if the dwarves were to regain control of Erebor with any measure of Thranduil’s aid, there would be a price to pay.
After meeting the disapproving stares of several elves who crossed his path, Elladan gave up and went to his room. He was already asleep when a soft knock rose him. At first, he was confused, wondering if there had been really a knock, but then he heard feet outside. He rose and put on his robe, and went to the door.
Thranduil greeted him with a bottle of wine in his hand.
“Good evening,” Elladan said, trying to suppress a yawn, as well as his surprise.
Thranduil motioned his head, inviting himself in. Elladan moved aside and bowed his head slightly. Thranduil walked in and sat, unceremoniously, by the embers.
“Don’t bother,” he said, when Elladan tried to light a candle. “Just bring glasses.”
Elladan nodded and took two glasses from the dresser, sitting opposite Thranduil.
Thranduil poured him wine and they remained quiet. He could feel Thranduil’s eyes piercing though him, as he grew more alert.
“I hear that you escaped Rodwen today.” Thranduil said. “That was not very nice.”
Elladan smiled. “It wasn’t, no.”
“I would too,” Thranduil replied with a wink. “But you said you wouldn’t use Hallothon t-”
“I found your sons completely by chance,” Elladan hastily replied, realizing that, once again, Thranduil made him feel defensive.
“He is quite taken by you. You might even replace Legolas as his big hero.”
“I doubt that.” Ellada sipped his wine. “This visit… it was quite unexpected,” he said, tentatively.
Thranduil smiled. “I woke you, didn’t I? How rude of me.”
“Did you drink?” Elladan asked. He might be threading dangerous ground, but he had realized that Thranduil enjoyed, to an extent, his candor.
“Yes.”
Elladan waited, holding Thranduil’s gaze until the Woodland king turned his eyes away to the embers. He almost smiled at the little victory.
“This Gift of yours, how does it work, really?” Thranduil asked.
“I do not command it as easily as Lúthien in the legends,” Elladan admitted. “You have to be willing to receive it, even if you are not quite aware. Then you relax, fall asleep, with no dreams, and then you wake a few hours later, fully rested and at peace.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“It is far better than wine,” Elladan countered. “Wine amplifies nightmares and brings on a terrible waking.”
“I know.”
Elladan lightly drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. Thranduil had unexpectedly let his guard down. The best play now was to let him speak by staying quiet. Elladan realized that he wasn’t as excited about this game as before. It had been the wrong strategy to try to win the Woodland king through personal connection instead of pure and hard negotiation. Thranduil had more stamina than anyone he had ever encountered, even when disclosing any vulnerability.
Thranduil, of course, caught on. He remained silent, his eyes roaming from Elladan’s lips to his eyes, to his hair, to the opening of his robe, at his chest. While Elladan himself had let his eyes feast on the Woodland king before, albeit discretely, he felt like a piece of meat. Oddly, it was not entirely a bad feeling, but not good enough to make him feel at ease.
“Pity you are not a whore,” Thranduil said at last.
Although the words were a play on his own, from the previous night, Elladan felt them sting. He rose from his chair. “It is late, Your Highness.”
Thranduil assented with a nod, as he rose. “Fair enough.”
Two days later, when Elladan had become acutely aware that he was being left to simmer, he was awoken early by one of the maids. “The king awaits you in his study.”
As he dressed, he gulped the tea and biscuits that the maid had brought and then rushed through the labyrinthine corridors, trying not to miss a turn. He was hoping that Thranduil would be ready for a real conversation this time. Instead, he was met by a happy Hallothon and a red-faced Legolas, who greeted him with a nod and then swiftly left the room, taking his protesting little brother.
Thranduil called Elladan forward with a gesture. Amusement twinkled in his eyes, but his lips were straight as a line.
“Apologies, honoured guest,” he said, “for forcing you to an early rising.”
“No apologies are needed, my Lord,” Elladan replied. He had kept his tone formal with Thranduil in the brief moments they met at meal times since the last visit to his room.
“You have not sought me out in the last two days… highly unusual for one with the mission of extracting an answer…”
Elladan ignored the pause, clearly meant to get a defensive reply from him.
“I found it even more unusual when my son, who is still blessed with the transparency of youth, let me know that you had a trump in your hands.”
Elladan shook his head. “King Thranduil, Prince Legolas revealed nothing.”
“He did, though. More than both of you think.” Thranduil sat behind his desk, making no motion to invite Elladan to sit.
Erestor used to do the same thing when he had been a poor student or concocted mischief during classtime. Elladan smiled to himself. He knew how to break the rules, and so, he took a seat without being asked to.
“How so, my Lord?”
“Why did you not press your hand?” Thranduil asked. “You are now in possession of all the pieces of the puzzle. What stopped you?”
“Nothing stopped me.”
“Elladan…”
Elladan raised an eyebrow at the sudden familiarity coming from Thranduil. Not only the used of his given name with no title, but also the mixture of reproach, amusement and maybe, even a hint of… fondness?
“Alright,” he said. “I didn’t want to place Legolas in a difficult position. Even if I had not named him, I am sure you would figure out who had given me the information. And besides…” Elladan stopped himself short.
“Besides what?”
“I think that we should be friends, more than allies just on paper. I mean, real friendship, between real people. You don’t get that by maneuvering, forcing your hand, playing trumps.”
“Oh, an idealist!” Thranduil chuckled.
“Laugh you may, but in my experience, sincerity goes a long way.”
“It does. And so does integrity and loyalty, even toward my empty-headed son. I like you, son of Elrond.”
“Thank you,” Elladan said, for lack of other words.
“Now that everything is on the table, and that you have proven yourself to be trustworthy, we will talk,” Thranduil said. “But not today.”
Elladan’s smile died before it reached his lips. The Woodland king might have accepted that he was trying for more than to use Mirkwood for the profit of Imladris and the Golden Wood, but he was far from reciprocating the openness.
After two tense days, they finally reached an agreement. Elladan left Thranduil’s meeting room alone, leaving the king and his counselors to deal with other matters. He had started with little to offer in negotiation, and even what Legolas had given him was nothing more than bait when what he needed was a tangible incentive. Still, Thranduil had accepted to hold an army ready by the eastern border, to hold off Smaug, and help men and dwarves when the dragon came. He had also grudgingly accepted to send smaller units to the south, closer to Dol Guldur and the evil. He had even agreed to grant passage to a small dwarven group, if needed… although promising to have a bit of fun with them. Elladan didn’t understand that animosity between them, but he didn’t push the matter.
All in all, Elladan had been successful. If Thranduil had kept to his policy of no involvement, the whole endeavor would be void. Lothlórien could not attack on the south, knowing that there would be no one to stop the foul residents of Dol Guldur of driving deeper in the forest, creating more pockets of evil. Nor would Gandalf lead his party on a quest without reassurance that Thranduil would not thwart their journey and that, if Smaug rose, there would be more than merchants and the dwarves to stop the dragon. Why was it that Elladan felt anything but victorious then?
That night, he left for his room early. He intended to pack and leave first thing in the morning. It wasn’t polite at all, but he was tired. He had come alone and travelled lightly. Elrohir awaited him by the Forest Gate in the west side. With luck, they would be home for Yule.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Elladan said, expecting one of the servants. Thranduil entered instead, but Elladan only realized it a few moments later, still busy with his packing.
“You’re off in a hurry,” Thranduil said.
“I beg your pardon, King Thranduil. I fear I may be needed at home.” Elladan replied, standing with a shirt in his hand.
“I was wondering…” Thranduil started. He took a few steps around the room, filling it with his presence.
Elladan waited for the continuation, but none came. As the silence stretched, he observed the Woodland king pacing in his finery. Thranduil was handsome, to say the least, chiseled features, body strong and lithe, the light, flowing hair… but so hard, so walled in. Elladan had only caught very few glimpses of him with his guard down, holding Hallothon, one day laughing after dinner with a relative, and that one time, the first night, in this very room.
“Wondering what, my lord?” he asked, at last.
“That gift of yours… would you still be so kind as to bestow it, now that the negotiations are over?”
Elladan was caught by surprise. “Well, yes, of course. Please do sit.”
Before sitting, too, Elladan poured two glasses of Thranduil’s fine Dorthonion. He would miss that in Imladris.
They sipped the wine quietly, until Elladan felt it was time to begin. “How bad are the dreams?” he asked.
“You mentioned that on our first encounter here alone. How did you know that?”
“The circles under your eyes, the wine at dinner, the frantic work pace… I’ve seen it all before.”
“Yes, your mother. How is Elrond?”
“He still grieves. But he has found hope.”
“Yes, your mother sailed. Even out here in the woods, we heard of that. Not for Galasdis, though.”
“I am very sorry for your loss,” Elladan replied.
“You didn’t knew her. And now, she is gone, forever.”
“One day she may leave Mandos’…”
“That is quite uncertain. All I have left is the memory of a dead wife and a young child to raise. And Legolas, who still needs me, more than he might think.”
“How was the accident?” Elladan asked.
“Gruesome.”
Elladan waited.
“It was no accident. I should have never left her side. In fact, I should have never let Galasdis persuade me to go with me on the settlement round. She said she was my queen and that she ought to visit her people. She said she was Silvan and that she needed trees from now and then, lest she would wilt within these rocks. She said that Hallothon had never spent time outside, connected with the woods. And I thought that she was right. I sent scouts, plenty of them. We were visiting the only few safe settlements that still stand…”
Thranduil paused and swallowed dry. “Hallothon was two… She had gone to a stream with him. She stopped the spider from taking him, but not from stinging her. When I heard the screams, I ran to her, but she had fallen to the water, unconscious. She drowned. End of story.”
Elladan nodded. The version that had reached Imladris was quite accurate.
“You’re carrying a lot of blame.”
“As it is fair.”
“Maybe.”
“Now the gift? To sleep for one night without seeing her lips blue, her eyes closed… without missing her by my side…”
“It shall be yours.” Elladan forced his breath to slow. Both he and Thranduil needed to be relaxed.
“Gaze into the fire,” he urged Thranduil. “Breathe.”
Thranduil obeyed. His breath became deeper, and them slower. His eyes were fixed on the flames. Elladan waited. Then he started reciting the enchantment. The words were simple, repetitive, soft. He did not often performed this ritual and, every time, he had trouble not falling asleep himself. Thranduil nodded once, then twice. Elladan slowed the rhythm of the enchantment further. Now the words rolled on his tongue of their own will.
He felt his eyelids heavy, his mouth dry, but he could hold on long enough. Thranduil’s head lolled and fell to the side. Elladan repeated the words a few more times. Then, he exercised his will to the limit, and carried the king to the bed. He took Thranduil’s crown off, lay by his side and covered them both with the fur at the foot of the bed, before surrendering to oblivion.
Elladan woke before Thranduil. There was some commotion outside. He could hear the voices and guess what their concern was. Thranduil was still sound asleep. The Gift of Lúthien had this way of wearing off when the receiver was healed. Elladan hesitated, but then decided against rousing Thranduil prematurely. He lit a candle, smoothed his hair and opened the door a fringe.
“Please,” he whispered to the two elves outside his door. “May I help you?” One of them turned and it was Rodwen.
“Lord Elladan. Would you mind if we entered your room?”
“I would, yes,” Elladan replied tersely, as a reminder of rank.
“We must insist, Lord Elladan. We have searched the palace for… someone. Yours is the only room left.”
“Is Prince Hallothon missing again?” Elladan asked.
“Please, Lord Elladan, I must insist.”
“And I must decline, Lady Rodwen.” Elladan raised an eyebrow.
Rodwen was not convinced, but a voice came from behind Elladan’s back. “Go away, Rodwen. I’m fine.”
Elladan closed the door, mortified. He took a moment before facing Thranduil. “I was trying to protect your privacy. And mine.”
“There is no such thing as privacy in a court. You know that.” Thranduil sat on the bed and yawned.
“Your sons…”
“Legolas is old enough to know that not all is as it seems.” Thranduil sighed. “Please. I wake from the most wonderfully blank sleep to drama… Besides, what do you think they have been whispering these last few nights that I visited you?”
“Fine.” Elladan sat. “I shall be going today, anyway.”
Thranduil fell back into the bed laughing. “Oh Elladan,” he said when he caught his breath. “Who would have thought you would be a prude. Don’t think I haven’t seen you… appreciating me.”
“I am not a prude. I am irritated. I came here and fulfilled my mission with no resource to any sort of trickery, but now I will be branded a whore.”
“Elladan. Why do you care?” Thranduil rose. “If it means that much to you, I’ll protest your virtue and ask Rodwen to keep mum about this. I fell asleep because I drank too much, and that was all that happened.”
Elladan shook his head. “No need for that. It is what it is.”
“Then stay for another day or two.”
“Why?”
“Hallothon likes you.”
“I like him too.”
“And Legolas likes you too.”
“I very much like Legolas.”
“Then you will stay.”
Thranduil picked his crown from the bedside table, adjusted it to his head, and left, as regal as Elladan had ever seen him.
Thranduil revealed a warmer side to Elladan whenever they met by chance during the morning. In the afternoon, he sent a note to Elladan, calling him to the stables. They went for a ride, with Hallothon sitting front of Thranduil. Legolas joining them, as well. The conversation flowed easily, centering on the beauty of the forest, local topography, the occasional botanic detail, and mostly, Thranduil’s unusual mount, a great elk that descended from the first one that Oropher had tamed. Elladan found himself balancing between two standpoints: on one hand, it really seemed that Thranduil had lowered his guard, but on the other…
They rode back before dusk. The air was cold and heavy, promising more snow soon. Elladan pressed his lips, thinking of his return trip.
As if reading his mind, Thranduil spoke. “I think tonight we’ll have the first heavy snowfall of the season.”
“Will I be able to cross back?”
“Probably. I will be happy to send a party with you.”
“No need to bother.”
“They will love the chance to clear the old forest path from some new nests. Not that it makes a great difference. By spring more will show.”
“Will… that other party be safe, then?”
“The dwarves? As long as they stay on track…”
Elladan nodded. “Gandalf should come with them.”
“Yes… the old wizard does meddle. He will be welcome.”
As they reached Thranduil’s halls, both brothers left them. Elladan bowed his head and also left for his room, to prepare for dinner. All through the evening, the atmosphere was much lighter around him.. Whether it was because the negotiations were over or because he was fodder for some tasty gossip, Elladan didn’t know or care. He was enjoying Mirkwood much more now that he was an esteemed guest than before, when he was someone to entertain, divert and be wary of.
When Elladan reached his room, much later and with a lot more wine than on previous nights, he found the door ajar. He stepped in, cautiously. On the bed, sound asleep was Hallothon, wrapped in his stray kitten and the fur blanket. Elladan smiled and wondered what to do. He should return the elfling to his room, lest another worried search ensued. But how to untangle that mess? And how to cross the long corridors without getting lost again, or having the elfling waking to the bawdy songs?
He was tempted to leave elfling and kitten sleeping on his bed for the night, but his better judgment of the circumstances won. He carefully slid his arms under the blanket and picked Hallothon up. He was so careful that he managed to pick the kitten as well. Gingerly, he stepped away from the bed, only that the fur caught on the bed post. Muttering a soft curse, he tugged until it was free. Both elfling and kitten were still sound asleep. Elladan waked down the corridor and then followed his instinct. To his surprise, not long after he crossed paths with Hallothon’s nanny and a worried Thranduil.
“Oh, where was he?” the king asked.
“In my room, sound asleep. I guess his kitten ran, once again.”
“Hallothon had it in his mind that you would tell him a bedtime story. Maybe that was his way of trying to get it.”
Elladan shrugged and then motioned to transfer his bundle to Thranduil’s arms.
“No, you take him all the way,” the king replied. “It’s just around the corner.”
Elladan followed Thranduil and then deposited the sleeping elfling on the bed. Thranduil tucked him in and both left the room.
“Thank you,” Thranduil said.
“Not at all.”
“No, I mean for last night. I don’t remember the last time I slept so well.”
“It was nothing.”
“Your gift is not nothing. I admit I was more curious than truly tempted, but it was well worth the try.”
Elladan realized that as they conversed, they were walking back to his room. He stopped at the door.
“Would you like to come in,” he asked in an impulse.
Thranduil gave him no time to regret. “Yes.”
Elladan walked to the dressed, to serve them wine, but Thranduil did not sit by the fire. When Elladan turned with two glasses on his hand, Thranduil took a step toward him and picked up a lock of jet black hair.
“It almost gleams blue, under certain light,” he said, twisting the lock in his fingers.
A jolt ran down Elladan’s body. “Thank you for commenting on that,” he said, a lot cooler than he felt. “Shall we sit?”
Thranduil leaned forward and kissed Elladan on the lips. It was light kiss, but inquisitive.
“It is natural that after the Gift of Lúthien your appetites are… exaggerated.”
“My appetite was roused before that…” Thranduil ran his knuckles along Elladan’s jawbone.
Elladan kissed Thranduil gently on the cheek.
“You’re still mourning, in your heart.”
Thranduil stepped back. “I am,” he replied, taking one glass from Elladan’s hand and drinking it in one big swallow.
Elladan put his glass on the dresser, untouched, and took Thranduil’s too.
“Enough.”
“Very well,” Thranduil said. “I will leave now.”
Elladan held his hand. “You can stay. Take solace.”
“Compassion is not arousing.”
“Don’t be so proud.” Elladan gently pulled Thranduil closer. “Take what you want.”
Thranduil kissed him fiercely and Elladan kissed back with all that he had. Thranduil might not know, but he too was mourning still. The attack that had led his mother to Aman was the same that had lead his lover to an unmarked grave. There had been others, now and then, and it had felt empty enough to make him reluctant. But in Thranduil’s eyes, he saw his own pain, more vivid, with far less time to become dull as his.
Thranduil’s hands searched Elladan’s body and piece by piece, his clothes came off. Elladan reciprocated, slowly pulling Thranduil to the bed. They fell together, limbs entangled, searching for the ways of pleasure in each other. Elladan looked into Thranduil’s eyes once, but the woodland king lowered his eyelids. He forced himself to ignore. The dance continued. Hands linked, bodies pressed, skin became covered with sweat in the heated room. Then Thranduil uttered an endearment and Elladan recoiled, ever so slightly, but not unnoticed. And Thranduil dismissed it with a kiss. The night stretched on and on until both were sated, lying side by side.
“You hide it well, son of Elrond, but your heart is a prisoner, just like my own.”
Elladan shook his head, but then agreed. “But let us not talk of it. Not tonight.”
“As you wish. Thank you.”
Elladan felt slightly offended, even if he knew that Thranduil had meant no offence. “It wasn’t a gift to thank for,” he said.
“But thank you, all the same.”
Elladan covered his legs with the sheet. “You can stay, if you’d like. My reputation is tarnished already,” he tried to joke.
Thranduil turned to his side and held Elladan by the waist. Elladan thought he would not be able to sleep, but too soon his eyes closed. Thranduil’s soft breath on his shoulder, the satiation of the senses, the sheer joy of connection, imperfect as it had been… He dreamt of the past and woke fully rested, hours later.
Thranduil was already gone. A note lay in the dresser by the wine.
“If I could lift
My heart but high enough
My heart could fill with love:
But ah, my heart
Too still and heavy stays
Too brimming with old days.”
Thank you. I wish there was more of me to give.
T
Elladan folded the note carefully. He realized that time did make a difference, as everyone insisted on reminding him, at home. Thranduil’s heart was unreachable for a new lover, and it would remain that way for a very long time. His, his was not. Somewhere along the way, the grief had recoiled, leaving an empty place. A place that he could not afford to fill with Thranduil.
Elladan finished his packing and searched for something to eat. He found Legolas and Hallothon, for which he was grateful. He would have hated to leave without a last goodbye. He went back to his room, to pick his things and thought of leaving Thranduil a note. But what could he say?
In the end, he simply wrote
It is me who has to thank.
Aure entuluva.
E
Finis
December 2014
Notes:
Sindarin names from http://elf.namegeneratorfun.com/
Timeline: Celebrían sailed West on 2510. The attack on Dol Guldur took place on 2941.
The poem is ‘Old Wine’, by Margaret Widdemer
Author: Talullah Red
Category: FPS, Elladan/Thranduil
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They're JRR Tolkien heirs' and God knows who else's. No disrespect intended. No profit made.
Summary: Elladan goes on a mission to Mirkwood.
Notes: For
minuial_nuwing, who requested "Elladan/Thranduil or Gildor/Erestor, a cold night, a warm blanket, and four cats."Beta:
alexcat - thank you so much!Mirkwood, Third Age 2940
Elladan realized something wasn’t quite right when he saw Thranduil’s soldiers and servants running around with somber faces, as if they were looking for something. He had arrived two days ago, time enough to confirm that life in Thranduil’s realm had not changed much from his last visit. Outside, the soldiers fought bravely to keep darkness at bay, but inside merriment and the love for good wine and fine song were the norm, especially now, with Yule coming. But not this afternoon.
As Elladan walked the corridors from his room into the hall, he realized something was wrong. He tried asking a couple of times, but, keeping to their manner, Thranduil’s people politely ignored him as they hurried by.
In the main hall, Thranduil paced up and down, listening to reports of those coming and giving instructions to those leaving. Elladan approached him and waited for a few moments. Thranduil promptly interrupted the conversation and addressed Elladan.
“Pardon us, but we have a small emergency,” Thranduil said. “Rodwen,” he called to one of his advisors, “Please show our guest the maps we were discussing yesterday.”
Elladan realized Thranduil was trying to divert him from whatever it was happening, but he was having none of it.
“Who is missing? I heard something about a search? Can I help?” he intervened, as Rodwen walked toward them.
Thranduil shook his head. “It is nothing. Now please, follow Rodwen, she can-”
Before he could finish the sentence, Elladan spotted Legolas, the king’s middle son, and headed toward the door, where a group was preparing to leave. He said over his shoulder, “I’ll just join this party, King Thranduil,” and left before the king could say a word. Legolas and some of the other elves raised an eyebrow, but wasted no time in welcoming him and heading out.
“Another pair of eyes won’t hurt,” said Legolas.
“Who is the little one we are looking for? That was all I could gather from the halls, that a child was missing,” Elladan asked. He had met Legolas a few times before, and while their acquaintance was superficial, he felt that the king’s son did not embrace his father’s attitude of reserve toward other elven realms.
“It’s my younger brother, Hallothon. He has been missing since midafternoon. With dusk coming and the clouds promising snow-“
“And a new nest of spiders we just discovered less than a league from here –” completed another elf.
“We’d better be going, then,” Elladan said.
The party went into the woods. They searched high and low, but they only saw the lights of other elves, searching at a distance. There wasn’t the slightest sign of the passage of a child. Night had fallen and the first snowflakes floated in the air. They were about to call it a night, when a shiver ran down Elladan’s spine. Whatever had touched him, had had the same effect on the other elves. Of a sudden they formed a circle, facing outward, and drew their weapons.
The fight was swift. Elladan was impressed with the way the group moved as one, against the lone spider that came from the canopy. When they were done with it, they searched the area. A sac made from spider silk hung heavy from a tree. It was the right size for a small child, Elladan thought, the night air suddenly feeling colder.
Legolas cut it open with his hunting knife but from inside fell a deer fawn. Relief washed over them.
“Come, time to go home,” he said. “The main nest should be close. We’ll clean it after it snows, it will make them slower.”
When they arrived at Thranduil’s halls, the mood had considerably lifted. Thranduil met them at the gates with a child on his arm. The blond hair and blue eyes left little doubt to who it was.
“Prince Hallothon,” Elrohir said, bowing. He had not yet seen the elfling.
Hallothon giggled.
“Now son, be polite,” Thranduil urged. “Lord Elladan went out into the forest in search for you. You gave us all quite a scare.”
Hallothon bowed his head slightly toward Elladan, and then hid his face in his father’s hair, holding his neck with his tiny arms.
“I owe you thanks for your goodwill,” Thranduil said, “but we will talk when you are warm and rested.”
Elladan bowed and left to his rooms. As he left, he could hear Thranduil talking to Legolas and the other members of the party with warmth and concern.
After a well-deserved hot bath, Elladan made an effort to dress. He felt sluggish and with little head for diplomacy and yet another formal meal. Duty first, he reminded himself. He went down to the dining hall but to his surprise, Thranduil welcomed him with much more warmth than on the previous nights.
The conversation was lively until the spiders were mentioned.
“They are getting closer,” Thranduil said. “We keep constant patrol all year round and each winter we make a thorough search on a radius of 5 leagues, when they are much slower, but we’re too few to cover the whole of the woods and they are too imbued with dark power to yield as easily as cobwebs on a spring clean.”
“You have been holding on remarkably,” Elladan said.
Thranduil nodded and the conversation moved on.
Later in the evening, Elladan went back to his room. He was happy with the turn of events and felt that his trip might still be worthwhile. As he turned the last corner in the long corridor, he saw a flash of blond hair and a white sleeping gown. Prince Hallothon. Elladan smiled, thinking of the mischief Elrohir and he could raise at that age. Still, the boy had been missing that day. Elladan passed the door to his room and followed on.
“Here, kitty, kitty…” he heard Hallothon call. “Come on, pussy, where are you?”
Elladan smiled. “Might I help you, your Highness?”
Hallothon turned, startled. At first he looked down to his slippers, but then he raised his chin, as regal as his father.
“My kitten, Caethel, she’s run away again. But you mustn’t tell Father.”
“Shall I help you find her?” Elladan offered, worrying about how cold it was starting to feel, even inside, and Hallothon only in a nightgown.
The elfling nodded yes, and held Elladan’s hand. They kept going down the corridor, calling for the cat. Fortunately, Elladan caught the sight of a black and white tail showing from the hem of a tapestry.
“Might that be her?” he asked Hallothon.
“Caethel!!” Hallothon shouted, making the tail curl and hide.
Elladan laughed. “Alright, I’ll help you, won’t that be better?” he said to Hallothon.
“No, I can do it,” Hallothon replied. He tried to pick Caethel up but ended up chasing her a few steps down the corridor before Elladan caught her.
“Now, shall we go and find your room? You can’t disappear again today, unless you want to scare your father to death…”
Hallothon nodded. “I know. It’s just that Caethel hides a lot and I have to find her.”
Elladan took the elfling’s hand in his own and let him lead him down the unending corridors of Thranduil’s halls. After a few turns, he was hopelessly lost, but Hallothon seemed to know his way well enough. The child chattered about his cats, asked him questions about Imladris and about the adventure in the woods with the spider, and about his travels. Elladan happily replied. Hallothon was wonderfully curious and vivacious. They arrived at Hallothon’s door as Thranduil was leaving the room.
“Son! Again? Have I not told you not to do that? I was worried sick!” Thranduil said as Hallothon ran to his arms.
Behind Thranduil a woman twisted her hands. “My Lord, I only looked away for one second, to put the little prince’s clothes away. I don’t know how this could happen twice in one day. He was already in bed and all.”
Thranduil sighed. “Yes, alright, we’ll talk later. You may go now.” He picked Hallothon from the floor. “Now, off to bed with you. I have to gobble you.” Thranduil made as if he was going to bite Hallothon but ended up blowing a raspberry on his neck.
Hallothon giggled and squirmed. “No, daddy, no!”
Thranduil opened the door and entered the room, carrying Hallothon. Elladan stood in the hallway, still holding the cat in his arms. “What about this one?” he asked, as Thranduil put Hallothon in bed.
Thranduil sighed. “She keeps running away and Hallothon keeps getting in trouble because of her. I wish she would just stay put like the other three.”
Elladan came closer to the bed and saw three black and white kittens all bundled up next to Hallothon, on the warm blanket. He placed the vagabond kitten right next to them. She immediately cuddled with the others, rubbing her nose on Hallothon’s hand.
“Hey, want to know a secret?” Elladan asked.
Hallothon nodded yes.
Elladan knelt by the bed and whispered in Hallothon’s ear. “Don’t worry, she’s not running away. You can just wait for her to come back to you and tell you all about her adventures.”
Hallothon giggled. “Cats can’t talk,” he said.
Elladan winked. “Smart little one you are. But you can imagine it, her adventures… maybe even draw them?”
Hallothon nodded enthusiastically.
“So you won’t run off again and scare your daddy?”
Hallothon said no with his head and yawned.
“Alright, I’ll be off now, so that your daddy can tell you a story.”
Hallothon stretched his arms and hugged Elladan’s neck. “I like you,” he said.
Elladan smiled and said, “Do you want to play slay spiders tomorrow? If daddy says yes, of course,” he added, looking at Thranduil.
Thranduil paused, but before he could utter a polite refusal, Hallothon said, “Pleeeaase??”
Even the kittens raised their heads from the blanket and stared at Thranduil. “Of course,” he replied, beaten, “But remember Lord Elladan is a guest and will have other things to do.”
“Promise,” Hallothon said, snuggling down.
As Elladan left the room, charmed by the elfling, he was acutely aware that Thranduil’s graciousness was little more than a thin layer of veneer over his renowned aloofness towards strangers. He heard Hallothon say. “I am so tired, Daddy. Just one story tonight,” and smiled. He highly doubted that, remembering all too well his childhood and later, Arwen’s. However, he decided to wait.
Slowly, he traced back a few of his steps towards his room, knowing that he would probably get lost, if he made a real try. However, his thoughts ran elsewhere. Thranduil had, unwillingly, that much was obvious, showed a breach in his armour. Elladan was Elrond’s son, and knew a thing or two about diplomatic endeavours. For instance, striking iron while it’s hot was generally a good idea.
To his surprise, his loitering in the corridor was short-termed. Hallothon must have really been tired, after the long day, because, by Elladan’s reckoning, there had only been time for one story.
Thranduil caught him leaning against a wall. “May I help you?” he asked, his regal tone resurfacing.
Elladan wondered if the breach had been closed, but he decided to press on. “Yes. I am… quite lost, I’m afraid.”
Thranduil bowed his head and led Elladan back to his room, through the maze of corridors, in perfect silence. Elladan wondered if he should break the silence, perhaps compliment him on the elfling, but, although he had liked Hallothon immensely, and his words would surely be true, it was a cheap shot. He didn’t like cheap shots and Thranduil would never go for it. So, he followed his host in silence.
When they arrived at Elladan’s door, Thranduil made to leave, but Elladan asked him in.
Thranduil was clearly expecting his contact with his guest to be over, but Elladan pressed on. “I won’t bite,” he said.
Reluctantly, Thranduil entered the chamber. Elladan offered him a chair next to the cozy fire while he served them the wine that had been left on the dresser. One thing that had to be said about the Woodland Realm was that despite its lack of interest in foreign relations and cooperation, they did know how to host.
Elladan sat in front of Thranduil. He now was certain of what to do. In fact, looking at the way Thranduil had sagged ever so slightly in his chair, he even knew it would be easier than he had anticipated. But he didn’t feel like pressing his hand. Exploitation was never a good idea and neither was excessive eagerness. He smiled to himself, as he handed Thranduil his glass. Had Elrohir been in his stead, he would be by now enumerating all the points of their agenda and Thranduil would be leaving the room.
They sat in silence for a long while. Despite the long day, Elladan felt quite alert. At first he gazed at the fire. Then, at his wine. Thranduil seemed to be relaxing more and more, letting go of the need of dealing with yet another task and just enjoying the warmth, the quietude. Good.
From Thranduil’s chair came a deep sigh. “This was nice,” he said. “I really needed a moment. In my room, a pile of paperwork awaits. It’s that time of year… I wonder whomever thought it would be a good idea to close the year’s accounts, renew the various licensings, define strategy, activities and budget for the next year and coordinate festivities all in this one month. I’m sure you know all about it. Your father used to have the same predicament, in fact, even Gil-galad, in my youth…”
Elladan nodded. “Aye.”
“So, what will it cost me, this bit?” Thranduil asked, still relaxed in his chair.
Elladan smiled. “An hour delay in signatures. You really ought to think about delegating. Not that Father delegates,” he added with a grin.
“Lord Elladan. We both know what this is. There was a situation, an opportunity, shall we call it, and you maneuvered me into getting time alone, at an hour I am not at my sharpest.”
“True. And I gave you wine, to lower your sharpness further. Come to think of it, that, combined with a dim lit room and the warmth of the firelight actually sounds more like an amorous maneuver than a diplomatic one. Except that I am not a whore.”
Thranduil’s laugh sounded close to a bark. “At least you didn’t use my child as conversation bait.”
“It crossed my mind, but it was low. He’s a sweet little fellow.”
“So, what are you really offering? And what is it that you want?”
“I need an answer, and we both know what I, Imladris, expects. I know you are not going to give it to me tonight, but I can’t press it enough: can we coordinate efforts and vanquish our common enemies?”
“The wizard has pressed the same matter. I still say let the dragon sleep. You should focus on Dol Guldur and if they came north, we’d gladly hold them. Smaug is not going to awake unless we make him and I don’t want that. Besides, Sauron is not its master.”
“They are of the same… family.”
“A family of darkness and evil. Not much of an argument there for familiar solidarity.” Thranduil moved to rise.
“They too have common interests, but come, now, we have discussed this and we will again tomorrow, with your advisors. Nothing new will be said, I am sure.” Elladan reached out and held Thranduil’s hand. “Stay a few moments longer.”
Thranduil remained half-seated. “It is late. I need to rest and so do you.”
“Do you sleep? At all?” Elladan asked.
Thranduil sat back. “Sometimes,” he conceded. “Actually, tonight I do feel sleepy,” he added, suppressing a yawn. “Did you slip something into my wine?”
It was Elladan’s time for a mirthless chuckle. “No need for that… The Gift of Lúthien.”
“Ah, of course. I hadn’t realized that you had inherited some of your family’s extraordinary endowments.”
Elladan held Thranduil’s stare. “I did. Some.”
“So you took pity on me and decided to put me to sleep.”
Elladan cringed. “Not pity, no. If I offered you gold and jewels, would that be pity?”
“That would be condescension and bribery.” Thranduil’s voice was smooth and low. Elladan thought he looked vaguely amused.
“Yes, it would,” he was forced to agree. “Yet, most people would see it as a perfectly normal gift within diplomatic relationships.” Elladan realized he was breathing too fast and becoming defensive. “Well, it looks like I am not going to give you the Gift of Lúthien after all, at least not this night.”
“I should go, then, if you have nothing to offer.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.
Elladan knew the match was played, for the night, and that he had lost. He had expected the Woodland King to be tough, and Thranduil had not disappointed him. It was a good thing they still had some time. The game was not over.
Elladan rose and bowed. “A good evening to you.”
Thranduil crossed his legs and reclined further into the chair. “Are you inviting me out?”
Suddenly, Elladan felt very tired. “That would be rude of me,” he replied.
Thranduil smiled and rose too. “A good night, then.”
Elladan spent the next morning in the same fruitless meetings he had the day before. Rodwen followed him around, trying to keep him out of Thranduil’s way, introducing him to increasingly less senior staff and showering with unnecessary detail about irrelevant matters. Elladan was almost amused, recalling how his father had used similar tactics with an emissary from Moria when they had tried to raise the mithril price. Erestor had to play Rodwen’s part then, and had not been grateful for the opportunity. Now Elladan endured his turn.
As Rodwen filled the time with increasingly more difficulty, Elladan pondered on the merits of his mission, not for the first time. There was, of course, the possibility that his father and Gandalf were wrong in assuming that attacking solely Dol Guldur would not be effective. The dragon might not wake at all and respond to aid the Necromancer. Or he might, and devastate Dale and then Mirkwood. In that instance, Thranduil would be responsible for giving up his people as bait, a strategy that had won them the Last Alliance, at the expense of Oropher’s life, and of his contingent’s.
Thranduil was not without faults and his policy of isolationism was a very sore point for any Imladrian, but Elladan had to concede one thing – they had not been as outreaching as they could have been, either, especially Lothlórien. The fact was that they had only a faint idea of what could be used to persuade Thranduil. This was why Elladan had chosen an unusual approach: on the day of his arrival, right after the mandatory niceties, he had laid out the full plan before Thranduil’s eyes, holding nothing back to negotiate.
What Mirkwood could gain from the attack on the south was an easing of the increasing darkness permeating the forest and spreading north. But on the north… bringing war to one’s doors with no assurance. Divide the enemy to vanquish it was an old and proven strategy, but Elladan could see Thranduil’s reserve – his gains were much lower and his risks much higher than those of Lothlórien or Imladris. And this was why it was needed a change in perspective, for both of them.
Elladan managed to escape Rodwen’s wing after lunch. As they were leaving the dining hall, she had been momentarily distracted by a note that demanded reply and Elladan had skulked through the corridors to the courtyard. He needed fresh air lest he died of boredom. The sound of high-pitched laughter drew him until he turned a corner and found Legolas sparring with Hallothon, with wooden swords.
Both brothers turned to face him.
“Elladan, well met!” said Legolas, still laughing.
Hallothon ran to him with his wooden sword pointed. “Die, evil spider!!”
Elladan caught him just in time and tossed him up. The elfling’s uncontrollable laughter brought on his own. Legolas came closer and Elladan threw the delighted elfling into his arms.
“Moooore!” Hallothon demanded amidst a fit of giggles. Legolas and Elladan immediately complied, getting more giggles as a reward.
Then Elladan started playing a menacing spider and both brothers attacked. A few moments later, Rodwen found them.
“Lord Elladan, if you will accompany me… we still have the maps to mark…”
“Don’t worry, Lady Rodwen,” Legolas replied. “We’ll take on your job for a while.”
Elladan chuckled as Rodwen left flustered.
“What?” Legolas asked, feigning innocence. “Did I say something wrong?”
Elladan winked and they continued playing, until the afternoon turned colder and darker and Hallothon’s nanny came for him.
“I enjoyed this bit,” Legolas said to Elladan as they made to part. “Your mission may not be as hopeless as you think… I think you’re right, both foes should go down. You know, it’s a funny thing how commodity prices keep going up and the gold’s going down… And it’s such a shame that we are so dependent on importations for grain and wine… Were we, let’s say, to regain trade of wood, furs, game and skins with wealthy, grateful dwarven neighbours, we could restore our external balance.”
“Thank you, Legolas,” Elladan said, not quite able to fully hide his surprise. “Will you get in trouble for this?”
“I most certainly will,” Legolas said, shrugging. “Although, I am pretty sure that with a few more days you would realize the full extent of our predicament, it is still bordering treason. But don’t worry, I’m always in some kind of trouble with my father.” Legolas winked and went his own way, leaving Elladan to ponder.
That night, after dinner, Elladan roamed the corridors. He knew it would be very unlikely that he would have another chance to break through Thranduil’s armour. Maybe the wisest thing was to engage in some kind of negotiation regarding eventual war spoils – Legolas was still young enough not to consider it, but the fact was that if the dwarves were to regain control of Erebor with any measure of Thranduil’s aid, there would be a price to pay.
After meeting the disapproving stares of several elves who crossed his path, Elladan gave up and went to his room. He was already asleep when a soft knock rose him. At first, he was confused, wondering if there had been really a knock, but then he heard feet outside. He rose and put on his robe, and went to the door.
Thranduil greeted him with a bottle of wine in his hand.
“Good evening,” Elladan said, trying to suppress a yawn, as well as his surprise.
Thranduil motioned his head, inviting himself in. Elladan moved aside and bowed his head slightly. Thranduil walked in and sat, unceremoniously, by the embers.
“Don’t bother,” he said, when Elladan tried to light a candle. “Just bring glasses.”
Elladan nodded and took two glasses from the dresser, sitting opposite Thranduil.
Thranduil poured him wine and they remained quiet. He could feel Thranduil’s eyes piercing though him, as he grew more alert.
“I hear that you escaped Rodwen today.” Thranduil said. “That was not very nice.”
Elladan smiled. “It wasn’t, no.”
“I would too,” Thranduil replied with a wink. “But you said you wouldn’t use Hallothon t-”
“I found your sons completely by chance,” Elladan hastily replied, realizing that, once again, Thranduil made him feel defensive.
“He is quite taken by you. You might even replace Legolas as his big hero.”
“I doubt that.” Ellada sipped his wine. “This visit… it was quite unexpected,” he said, tentatively.
Thranduil smiled. “I woke you, didn’t I? How rude of me.”
“Did you drink?” Elladan asked. He might be threading dangerous ground, but he had realized that Thranduil enjoyed, to an extent, his candor.
“Yes.”
Elladan waited, holding Thranduil’s gaze until the Woodland king turned his eyes away to the embers. He almost smiled at the little victory.
“This Gift of yours, how does it work, really?” Thranduil asked.
“I do not command it as easily as Lúthien in the legends,” Elladan admitted. “You have to be willing to receive it, even if you are not quite aware. Then you relax, fall asleep, with no dreams, and then you wake a few hours later, fully rested and at peace.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“It is far better than wine,” Elladan countered. “Wine amplifies nightmares and brings on a terrible waking.”
“I know.”
Elladan lightly drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. Thranduil had unexpectedly let his guard down. The best play now was to let him speak by staying quiet. Elladan realized that he wasn’t as excited about this game as before. It had been the wrong strategy to try to win the Woodland king through personal connection instead of pure and hard negotiation. Thranduil had more stamina than anyone he had ever encountered, even when disclosing any vulnerability.
Thranduil, of course, caught on. He remained silent, his eyes roaming from Elladan’s lips to his eyes, to his hair, to the opening of his robe, at his chest. While Elladan himself had let his eyes feast on the Woodland king before, albeit discretely, he felt like a piece of meat. Oddly, it was not entirely a bad feeling, but not good enough to make him feel at ease.
“Pity you are not a whore,” Thranduil said at last.
Although the words were a play on his own, from the previous night, Elladan felt them sting. He rose from his chair. “It is late, Your Highness.”
Thranduil assented with a nod, as he rose. “Fair enough.”
Two days later, when Elladan had become acutely aware that he was being left to simmer, he was awoken early by one of the maids. “The king awaits you in his study.”
As he dressed, he gulped the tea and biscuits that the maid had brought and then rushed through the labyrinthine corridors, trying not to miss a turn. He was hoping that Thranduil would be ready for a real conversation this time. Instead, he was met by a happy Hallothon and a red-faced Legolas, who greeted him with a nod and then swiftly left the room, taking his protesting little brother.
Thranduil called Elladan forward with a gesture. Amusement twinkled in his eyes, but his lips were straight as a line.
“Apologies, honoured guest,” he said, “for forcing you to an early rising.”
“No apologies are needed, my Lord,” Elladan replied. He had kept his tone formal with Thranduil in the brief moments they met at meal times since the last visit to his room.
“You have not sought me out in the last two days… highly unusual for one with the mission of extracting an answer…”
Elladan ignored the pause, clearly meant to get a defensive reply from him.
“I found it even more unusual when my son, who is still blessed with the transparency of youth, let me know that you had a trump in your hands.”
Elladan shook his head. “King Thranduil, Prince Legolas revealed nothing.”
“He did, though. More than both of you think.” Thranduil sat behind his desk, making no motion to invite Elladan to sit.
Erestor used to do the same thing when he had been a poor student or concocted mischief during classtime. Elladan smiled to himself. He knew how to break the rules, and so, he took a seat without being asked to.
“How so, my Lord?”
“Why did you not press your hand?” Thranduil asked. “You are now in possession of all the pieces of the puzzle. What stopped you?”
“Nothing stopped me.”
“Elladan…”
Elladan raised an eyebrow at the sudden familiarity coming from Thranduil. Not only the used of his given name with no title, but also the mixture of reproach, amusement and maybe, even a hint of… fondness?
“Alright,” he said. “I didn’t want to place Legolas in a difficult position. Even if I had not named him, I am sure you would figure out who had given me the information. And besides…” Elladan stopped himself short.
“Besides what?”
“I think that we should be friends, more than allies just on paper. I mean, real friendship, between real people. You don’t get that by maneuvering, forcing your hand, playing trumps.”
“Oh, an idealist!” Thranduil chuckled.
“Laugh you may, but in my experience, sincerity goes a long way.”
“It does. And so does integrity and loyalty, even toward my empty-headed son. I like you, son of Elrond.”
“Thank you,” Elladan said, for lack of other words.
“Now that everything is on the table, and that you have proven yourself to be trustworthy, we will talk,” Thranduil said. “But not today.”
Elladan’s smile died before it reached his lips. The Woodland king might have accepted that he was trying for more than to use Mirkwood for the profit of Imladris and the Golden Wood, but he was far from reciprocating the openness.
After two tense days, they finally reached an agreement. Elladan left Thranduil’s meeting room alone, leaving the king and his counselors to deal with other matters. He had started with little to offer in negotiation, and even what Legolas had given him was nothing more than bait when what he needed was a tangible incentive. Still, Thranduil had accepted to hold an army ready by the eastern border, to hold off Smaug, and help men and dwarves when the dragon came. He had also grudgingly accepted to send smaller units to the south, closer to Dol Guldur and the evil. He had even agreed to grant passage to a small dwarven group, if needed… although promising to have a bit of fun with them. Elladan didn’t understand that animosity between them, but he didn’t push the matter.
All in all, Elladan had been successful. If Thranduil had kept to his policy of no involvement, the whole endeavor would be void. Lothlórien could not attack on the south, knowing that there would be no one to stop the foul residents of Dol Guldur of driving deeper in the forest, creating more pockets of evil. Nor would Gandalf lead his party on a quest without reassurance that Thranduil would not thwart their journey and that, if Smaug rose, there would be more than merchants and the dwarves to stop the dragon. Why was it that Elladan felt anything but victorious then?
That night, he left for his room early. He intended to pack and leave first thing in the morning. It wasn’t polite at all, but he was tired. He had come alone and travelled lightly. Elrohir awaited him by the Forest Gate in the west side. With luck, they would be home for Yule.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Elladan said, expecting one of the servants. Thranduil entered instead, but Elladan only realized it a few moments later, still busy with his packing.
“You’re off in a hurry,” Thranduil said.
“I beg your pardon, King Thranduil. I fear I may be needed at home.” Elladan replied, standing with a shirt in his hand.
“I was wondering…” Thranduil started. He took a few steps around the room, filling it with his presence.
Elladan waited for the continuation, but none came. As the silence stretched, he observed the Woodland king pacing in his finery. Thranduil was handsome, to say the least, chiseled features, body strong and lithe, the light, flowing hair… but so hard, so walled in. Elladan had only caught very few glimpses of him with his guard down, holding Hallothon, one day laughing after dinner with a relative, and that one time, the first night, in this very room.
“Wondering what, my lord?” he asked, at last.
“That gift of yours… would you still be so kind as to bestow it, now that the negotiations are over?”
Elladan was caught by surprise. “Well, yes, of course. Please do sit.”
Before sitting, too, Elladan poured two glasses of Thranduil’s fine Dorthonion. He would miss that in Imladris.
They sipped the wine quietly, until Elladan felt it was time to begin. “How bad are the dreams?” he asked.
“You mentioned that on our first encounter here alone. How did you know that?”
“The circles under your eyes, the wine at dinner, the frantic work pace… I’ve seen it all before.”
“Yes, your mother. How is Elrond?”
“He still grieves. But he has found hope.”
“Yes, your mother sailed. Even out here in the woods, we heard of that. Not for Galasdis, though.”
“I am very sorry for your loss,” Elladan replied.
“You didn’t knew her. And now, she is gone, forever.”
“One day she may leave Mandos’…”
“That is quite uncertain. All I have left is the memory of a dead wife and a young child to raise. And Legolas, who still needs me, more than he might think.”
“How was the accident?” Elladan asked.
“Gruesome.”
Elladan waited.
“It was no accident. I should have never left her side. In fact, I should have never let Galasdis persuade me to go with me on the settlement round. She said she was my queen and that she ought to visit her people. She said she was Silvan and that she needed trees from now and then, lest she would wilt within these rocks. She said that Hallothon had never spent time outside, connected with the woods. And I thought that she was right. I sent scouts, plenty of them. We were visiting the only few safe settlements that still stand…”
Thranduil paused and swallowed dry. “Hallothon was two… She had gone to a stream with him. She stopped the spider from taking him, but not from stinging her. When I heard the screams, I ran to her, but she had fallen to the water, unconscious. She drowned. End of story.”
Elladan nodded. The version that had reached Imladris was quite accurate.
“You’re carrying a lot of blame.”
“As it is fair.”
“Maybe.”
“Now the gift? To sleep for one night without seeing her lips blue, her eyes closed… without missing her by my side…”
“It shall be yours.” Elladan forced his breath to slow. Both he and Thranduil needed to be relaxed.
“Gaze into the fire,” he urged Thranduil. “Breathe.”
Thranduil obeyed. His breath became deeper, and them slower. His eyes were fixed on the flames. Elladan waited. Then he started reciting the enchantment. The words were simple, repetitive, soft. He did not often performed this ritual and, every time, he had trouble not falling asleep himself. Thranduil nodded once, then twice. Elladan slowed the rhythm of the enchantment further. Now the words rolled on his tongue of their own will.
He felt his eyelids heavy, his mouth dry, but he could hold on long enough. Thranduil’s head lolled and fell to the side. Elladan repeated the words a few more times. Then, he exercised his will to the limit, and carried the king to the bed. He took Thranduil’s crown off, lay by his side and covered them both with the fur at the foot of the bed, before surrendering to oblivion.
Elladan woke before Thranduil. There was some commotion outside. He could hear the voices and guess what their concern was. Thranduil was still sound asleep. The Gift of Lúthien had this way of wearing off when the receiver was healed. Elladan hesitated, but then decided against rousing Thranduil prematurely. He lit a candle, smoothed his hair and opened the door a fringe.
“Please,” he whispered to the two elves outside his door. “May I help you?” One of them turned and it was Rodwen.
“Lord Elladan. Would you mind if we entered your room?”
“I would, yes,” Elladan replied tersely, as a reminder of rank.
“We must insist, Lord Elladan. We have searched the palace for… someone. Yours is the only room left.”
“Is Prince Hallothon missing again?” Elladan asked.
“Please, Lord Elladan, I must insist.”
“And I must decline, Lady Rodwen.” Elladan raised an eyebrow.
Rodwen was not convinced, but a voice came from behind Elladan’s back. “Go away, Rodwen. I’m fine.”
Elladan closed the door, mortified. He took a moment before facing Thranduil. “I was trying to protect your privacy. And mine.”
“There is no such thing as privacy in a court. You know that.” Thranduil sat on the bed and yawned.
“Your sons…”
“Legolas is old enough to know that not all is as it seems.” Thranduil sighed. “Please. I wake from the most wonderfully blank sleep to drama… Besides, what do you think they have been whispering these last few nights that I visited you?”
“Fine.” Elladan sat. “I shall be going today, anyway.”
Thranduil fell back into the bed laughing. “Oh Elladan,” he said when he caught his breath. “Who would have thought you would be a prude. Don’t think I haven’t seen you… appreciating me.”
“I am not a prude. I am irritated. I came here and fulfilled my mission with no resource to any sort of trickery, but now I will be branded a whore.”
“Elladan. Why do you care?” Thranduil rose. “If it means that much to you, I’ll protest your virtue and ask Rodwen to keep mum about this. I fell asleep because I drank too much, and that was all that happened.”
Elladan shook his head. “No need for that. It is what it is.”
“Then stay for another day or two.”
“Why?”
“Hallothon likes you.”
“I like him too.”
“And Legolas likes you too.”
“I very much like Legolas.”
“Then you will stay.”
Thranduil picked his crown from the bedside table, adjusted it to his head, and left, as regal as Elladan had ever seen him.
Thranduil revealed a warmer side to Elladan whenever they met by chance during the morning. In the afternoon, he sent a note to Elladan, calling him to the stables. They went for a ride, with Hallothon sitting front of Thranduil. Legolas joining them, as well. The conversation flowed easily, centering on the beauty of the forest, local topography, the occasional botanic detail, and mostly, Thranduil’s unusual mount, a great elk that descended from the first one that Oropher had tamed. Elladan found himself balancing between two standpoints: on one hand, it really seemed that Thranduil had lowered his guard, but on the other…
They rode back before dusk. The air was cold and heavy, promising more snow soon. Elladan pressed his lips, thinking of his return trip.
As if reading his mind, Thranduil spoke. “I think tonight we’ll have the first heavy snowfall of the season.”
“Will I be able to cross back?”
“Probably. I will be happy to send a party with you.”
“No need to bother.”
“They will love the chance to clear the old forest path from some new nests. Not that it makes a great difference. By spring more will show.”
“Will… that other party be safe, then?”
“The dwarves? As long as they stay on track…”
Elladan nodded. “Gandalf should come with them.”
“Yes… the old wizard does meddle. He will be welcome.”
As they reached Thranduil’s halls, both brothers left them. Elladan bowed his head and also left for his room, to prepare for dinner. All through the evening, the atmosphere was much lighter around him.. Whether it was because the negotiations were over or because he was fodder for some tasty gossip, Elladan didn’t know or care. He was enjoying Mirkwood much more now that he was an esteemed guest than before, when he was someone to entertain, divert and be wary of.
When Elladan reached his room, much later and with a lot more wine than on previous nights, he found the door ajar. He stepped in, cautiously. On the bed, sound asleep was Hallothon, wrapped in his stray kitten and the fur blanket. Elladan smiled and wondered what to do. He should return the elfling to his room, lest another worried search ensued. But how to untangle that mess? And how to cross the long corridors without getting lost again, or having the elfling waking to the bawdy songs?
He was tempted to leave elfling and kitten sleeping on his bed for the night, but his better judgment of the circumstances won. He carefully slid his arms under the blanket and picked Hallothon up. He was so careful that he managed to pick the kitten as well. Gingerly, he stepped away from the bed, only that the fur caught on the bed post. Muttering a soft curse, he tugged until it was free. Both elfling and kitten were still sound asleep. Elladan waked down the corridor and then followed his instinct. To his surprise, not long after he crossed paths with Hallothon’s nanny and a worried Thranduil.
“Oh, where was he?” the king asked.
“In my room, sound asleep. I guess his kitten ran, once again.”
“Hallothon had it in his mind that you would tell him a bedtime story. Maybe that was his way of trying to get it.”
Elladan shrugged and then motioned to transfer his bundle to Thranduil’s arms.
“No, you take him all the way,” the king replied. “It’s just around the corner.”
Elladan followed Thranduil and then deposited the sleeping elfling on the bed. Thranduil tucked him in and both left the room.
“Thank you,” Thranduil said.
“Not at all.”
“No, I mean for last night. I don’t remember the last time I slept so well.”
“It was nothing.”
“Your gift is not nothing. I admit I was more curious than truly tempted, but it was well worth the try.”
Elladan realized that as they conversed, they were walking back to his room. He stopped at the door.
“Would you like to come in,” he asked in an impulse.
Thranduil gave him no time to regret. “Yes.”
Elladan walked to the dressed, to serve them wine, but Thranduil did not sit by the fire. When Elladan turned with two glasses on his hand, Thranduil took a step toward him and picked up a lock of jet black hair.
“It almost gleams blue, under certain light,” he said, twisting the lock in his fingers.
A jolt ran down Elladan’s body. “Thank you for commenting on that,” he said, a lot cooler than he felt. “Shall we sit?”
Thranduil leaned forward and kissed Elladan on the lips. It was light kiss, but inquisitive.
“It is natural that after the Gift of Lúthien your appetites are… exaggerated.”
“My appetite was roused before that…” Thranduil ran his knuckles along Elladan’s jawbone.
Elladan kissed Thranduil gently on the cheek.
“You’re still mourning, in your heart.”
Thranduil stepped back. “I am,” he replied, taking one glass from Elladan’s hand and drinking it in one big swallow.
Elladan put his glass on the dresser, untouched, and took Thranduil’s too.
“Enough.”
“Very well,” Thranduil said. “I will leave now.”
Elladan held his hand. “You can stay. Take solace.”
“Compassion is not arousing.”
“Don’t be so proud.” Elladan gently pulled Thranduil closer. “Take what you want.”
Thranduil kissed him fiercely and Elladan kissed back with all that he had. Thranduil might not know, but he too was mourning still. The attack that had led his mother to Aman was the same that had lead his lover to an unmarked grave. There had been others, now and then, and it had felt empty enough to make him reluctant. But in Thranduil’s eyes, he saw his own pain, more vivid, with far less time to become dull as his.
Thranduil’s hands searched Elladan’s body and piece by piece, his clothes came off. Elladan reciprocated, slowly pulling Thranduil to the bed. They fell together, limbs entangled, searching for the ways of pleasure in each other. Elladan looked into Thranduil’s eyes once, but the woodland king lowered his eyelids. He forced himself to ignore. The dance continued. Hands linked, bodies pressed, skin became covered with sweat in the heated room. Then Thranduil uttered an endearment and Elladan recoiled, ever so slightly, but not unnoticed. And Thranduil dismissed it with a kiss. The night stretched on and on until both were sated, lying side by side.
“You hide it well, son of Elrond, but your heart is a prisoner, just like my own.”
Elladan shook his head, but then agreed. “But let us not talk of it. Not tonight.”
“As you wish. Thank you.”
Elladan felt slightly offended, even if he knew that Thranduil had meant no offence. “It wasn’t a gift to thank for,” he said.
“But thank you, all the same.”
Elladan covered his legs with the sheet. “You can stay, if you’d like. My reputation is tarnished already,” he tried to joke.
Thranduil turned to his side and held Elladan by the waist. Elladan thought he would not be able to sleep, but too soon his eyes closed. Thranduil’s soft breath on his shoulder, the satiation of the senses, the sheer joy of connection, imperfect as it had been… He dreamt of the past and woke fully rested, hours later.
Thranduil was already gone. A note lay in the dresser by the wine.
“If I could lift
My heart but high enough
My heart could fill with love:
But ah, my heart
Too still and heavy stays
Too brimming with old days.”
Thank you. I wish there was more of me to give.
T
Elladan folded the note carefully. He realized that time did make a difference, as everyone insisted on reminding him, at home. Thranduil’s heart was unreachable for a new lover, and it would remain that way for a very long time. His, his was not. Somewhere along the way, the grief had recoiled, leaving an empty place. A place that he could not afford to fill with Thranduil.
Elladan finished his packing and searched for something to eat. He found Legolas and Hallothon, for which he was grateful. He would have hated to leave without a last goodbye. He went back to his room, to pick his things and thought of leaving Thranduil a note. But what could he say?
In the end, he simply wrote
It is me who has to thank.
Aure entuluva.
E
Finis
December 2014
Notes:
Sindarin names from http://elf.namegeneratorfun.com/
Timeline: Celebrían sailed West on 2510. The attack on Dol Guldur took place on 2941.
The poem is ‘Old Wine’, by Margaret Widdemer
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Date: 2014-12-25 11:31 pm (UTC)**hugs**
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Date: 2014-12-26 08:09 am (UTC)Thanks so much! I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. :)
*hugs*
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Date: 2015-01-01 06:39 pm (UTC)Your Legolas is delightful, as is his younger brother and his cats. *g* +
This Gift of Lúthien of Elladan - is this canon, or your idea? It's a great thing in any case - I wish I knew somebody who had it! ;)
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Date: 2015-01-02 12:02 am (UTC)The Gift of Lúthien was my invention... I too wish I knew someone who had it! :D
I'm guessing, since he still has a drop of Mayan blood, he'd have some gift, maybe not as developed as Elrond's, but something, and Lúthien was great at making people fall asleep so... ;)
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Date: 2015-01-06 11:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-05 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-05 08:01 pm (UTC)