Hisimë TA 1052
One bracingly cool morning Legolas looked out his window in time to espy Elladan and Glorfindel and several warriors apparently preparing to depart. His room overlooked the stables and the thickly wooded hills beyond, a view he favored while in Rivendell. He frowned thoughtfully as he observed them moving about, slinging packs onto their steeds. It was evident they would be gone for an extended length of time. There could be no doubt about it. The older twin and Rivendell's captain were taking a troop out on errantry. That was unusual considering the time of the year. Only the most urgent of reasons would necessitate such venturing this late in the season.
He turned from the window for a moment when Elrohir entered his chamber bearing missives from his family in Eryn Galen before returning his regard to Elladan and the Elven warriors. The younger twin noted his interest in the activity below his window and frowned slightly.
"Where are Elladan and Glorfindel heading?" Legolas asked, his eyes riveted on the scene outside.
"They are going to investigate reports of brigands in the east," Elrohir replied.
"East?"
"Aye, and they are steadily moving westward towards our territory."
"A large band?"
"Large enough to cause much grief amongst their victims. They are not familiar to us. Glorfindel suspects they came over the Misty Mountains. The few who were slain in encounters in the villages that fought back carried booty from as far as Dale."
Legolas' frown deepened. "Indeed," he murmured.
He felt Elrohir's hand clap firmly on his shoulder.
"Do not even think of joining them," the twin tersely said. "You cannot leave Imladris unless Adar gives you permission to do so."
Legolas scowled. "It seems I don't have much of a choice," he muttered.
Elrohir peered at him suspiciously. "Give me your word that you won't try to leave, Legolas," he insisted.
Sapphire eyes flashed in annoyance but the twin stood his ground. Legolas sighed and said: "I promise." When Elrohir still looked at him warily, he added testily: "I gave you my word. Surely you trust me."
Elrohir hesitated then nodded. "Very well," he said. "I will see you at the midday meal then." He made to leave then glanced back at his friend. "I do trust you, Calenlass," he reminded the prince. And then he left the room.
The Imladrin patrol set up camp in a wooded area close to the last village the brigands had pillaged. The smoking ruins of several cottages and the still shocked countenances of the inhabitants attested to the recentness of the attack. It stood to reason that the bandits, lacking the near-supernatural fleetness and evasiveness of Elves, would not have gotten far.
While he and Glorfindel awaited the reports of their scouts, Elladan took a moment to be alone, leaning against a slender beech to gaze at the night sky. As always he sought out his grandsire's bright light for Eärendil had always been as much a beacon of hope and familial affection to him as it was the Elves' most beloved star.
It was a cold November evening with mist curling its icy tendrils around the trees and thickly carpeting the chill ground; of no matter to the Elves but, hopefully, detrimental enough to slow down the human band of scoundrels they were hunting. The Elf-warrior did not let misplaced pride lead him to disdain any advantage given them.
He pondered the problem of his woodland friend. What would it take to get Legolas to let go? He and Elrohir had tried just about everything to coax the prince into venting his so obviously repressed feelings. It was perturbing that even Elrohir hadn't yet breached the archer's well-entrenched defenses. That was so rare an occurrence as to be nearly non-existent and therefore cause for considerable dismay.
Thoughts of his twin led to another series of conjectures. Was he the only one who had as yet marked Elrohir's conduct of late? Nay, not even of late, the Elf-warrior mused. It has been there from the start yet he denies my allegations, chides me for even suggesting that... He let out a frustrated exhalation. Useless to think about that now. It would only distract him from the task at hand.
He was about to straighten up when a slender figure appeared out of the ephemeral whiteness, a rakish gleam in its eyes. Elladan went still as the other Elf approached. It was Helmir, a warrior he'd had occasion to keep bed-company with. Wordlessly, the Elven swordsman pressed closer, effectively trapping the twin against the beech. For a moment, they stared at each other and then the newcomer closed his lips upon Elladan's. For a few moments, they remained thus, quietly enjoying the sensations of this unlooked for pleasure. And then Helmir drew away, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
Elladan chuckled softly at the other Elf's audacity. Though he kept intimate company far more often with women, the older twin very much relished his dalliances with Elves of his kind, particularly fellow soldiers. There was a peculiar piquancy in bedding an Elf who had faced the same rigors and perils as he, an undeniable thrill in taking one who was of equal strength and valor. It was an experience one did not find with females, not even amongst the warrior maids of Lorien and Greenwood. For some, it could be so addictive as to impel them to forswear the company of the gentler sex evermore.
"You are presumptuous, Helmir," he remarked, the sensual lilt of his voice blunting the sting of his words.
Helmir grinned. "Nay, I merely thought to give you some ease, my lord. As I had the pleasure of doing in the past."
Elladan captured his gaze and held it. The smoldering depths in the twin's eyes were enough to undo any being, more so one who had previously known far more than those eyes. Helmir lost some of his composure under that blue-tinged stormy regard.
"Aye, so you did," Elladan drawled. "I remember your attentions quite well, so accommodating were you of my wishes."
Slight color touched the cheeks of the other warrior at the Elvenlord's provocative utterance. "I can still be...most accommodating...if that would please you, my lord," he managed to say.
Elladan smiled, taking pity on the warrior. The Elf was quite young in comparison; only into his fifth century or so. Besides, his body heartily approved of such an exercise and with so malleable a partner as Helmir.
"'Tis not the most opportune time or place for bed-play," he murmured, tracing a random route with his hand up his companion's thigh to its culmination at the groin. His smile grew more predatory at the involuntary hiss that elicited. "However, I would not be adverse to a night's indulgence with you once we return to Imladris."
"Only a night, my lord?" Helmir had to clamp down savagely on his fast burgeoning need.
Again that soft, dangerous chuckle. "Mayhap more. 'Tis been long since I tasted male-flesh." He suddenly snaked a hand around the other Elf and hauled him close for a demanding kiss that left them both looking forward to a speedy return to the valley.
But even in the midst of such heady pleasures, Elladan did not let his guard down and he abruptly broke off the caress, his ears picking up the all but silent footfalls of Glorfindel and the scouts. By the time they came upon him and Helmir, there was no evidence of their earlier ardor.
The scouts had welcome news. They had located the brigands. The men had holed up in an all but abandoned settlement just a few miles northeast of their position.
They fell upon the band with all the ferocity of their Noldorin blood, tempered only by their adherence to the elven principles that demanded a modicum of humaneness towards even the most knavish of men. Only the orcs were never accorded this severely limited mercy. It was beyond the Elves to deal civilly with Morgoth's foul creations.
As he plunged into the fray, Elladan, true to his training under Glorfindel, took swift appraisal of their people that he might know each and every warrior's whereabouts. Thus, he was taken aback by the unexpected addition of another Elf. The flash of silver-gold hair stunned him so greatly that, but for his mercifully superb reflexes, he might have been skewered by the man he grappled with.
Quickly dispatching his opponent with a belly-ripping stroke, he turned and shouted: "Legolas!" He savagely struck down another brigand as he forced his way to the prince's side. "What in Arda are you doing here?" he bellowed when he neared the archer.
"What do you think?" Legolas yelled back. His eyes were aglow, almost brilliantly so, with the exultant light of battle. His white-hilted long knife was but a blur in his masterful hands as he gutted one man and nearly took the head off a second, so long and deep was the gash he delivered to the outlaw's throat.
Elladan had no more time to question his friend as more men came at him. Valar, he thought grimly, they have managed to recruit far more members to their lawless cause than we suspected. He dealt with his foes swiftly enough. A few surrendered abruptly upon sighting the menacing gleam in his eyes, throwing down their weapons and cowering in dread before so fell an enemy. Through the corner of his eyes, he espied one man breaking away and fleeing the melee.
The man was fast but his pursuer was faster. With frightening single-mindedness, Legolas overtook him before he had sprinted more than a few feet. Keeping a weather eye on him even as he finished the last of his opponents, Elladan noted the rage in the archer's eyes and wondered at it in alarm. It was not a general rage but was directed at this one bandit in particular. His suspicion was soon confirmed when Legolas wrestled the man's sword from him and without preamble hewed the latter's legs from under him. The brigand fell, the stumps of his severed legs spewing blood everywhere.
His was no merciful end. Legolas struck him again and again with strokes calculated to wound and torment but not to kill. Not just yet. Heedless of the man's howls of pain and terror, he brought the sword down upon him repeatedly until the howls faded away into a gruesome gurgle and, finally, silence.
Followed by an equally horrified Glorfindel and a handful of warriors, Elladan raced to the prince in a bid to bring his savagery to a halt. For Legolas did not stop his mauling of the now deceased bandit but relentlessly hacked at the body until it looked more like a carcass fit for the butcher's block than the form of what had once been a human being. The Elvenlord grabbed at his friend's arm, shocked by the steely strength that near defeated his efforts to pull him back from the black mire of uncontrollable fury that so tenaciously gripped him.
"Daro, Legolas, saes daro!" Elladan cried hoarsely. "Saes, ernil nîn, han or!" Stop, Legolas, please stop. Please, my prince, it is over.
He finally managed to stay the archer's arm before it brought down the bloodied sword yet again on the now unrecognizable corpse. Legolas was rigid with rage and he glared furiously at Elladan for daring to stop him.
"He is little more than meat for carrion beasts," Elladan pointed out. "'Tis enough."
"Nay, 'twill never be enough!" snarled the prince, snatching his arm from the Elf-lord's grasp. He bent and grabbed something from the mangled body at their feet.
"Legolas--"
"'Twas he who killed my mother!"
Elladan stared in shocked comprehension. The Mirkwood prince held in his hand a dismayingly familiar necklace. The older twin had seen it many a time hanging from Queen Ithilwen's swan-neck.
"Sweet Eru!" Elladan gasped. "This was the band that abducted your mother and sister?"
"And would have despoiled them had Naneth not fought back!" Legolas growled. "They killed her for that, Elladan. For that and this!" He clenched his hand convulsively around the bauble. "I could not save her. Do you understand? I was too late! I failed her!"
"Nay, that is not true!"
"'Twas I who told her it was safe enough for her and Nimeithel to go riding. I who failed to discover the presence of these orcspawn in our forest. Naneth would still be alive if I had done my duty well. Even then I failed her."
"You cannot blame yourself. No one could have known--"
"And then I was incompetent enough to let these dogs escape!"
"You must stop--"
"I failed her, Elladan! She died because of me!"
"Enough!" Elladan roared, startling everyone into stillness including Legolas. He grabbed the prince and shook him fiercely, unmindful of the shocked stares of the others.
"Get a hold of yourself, gwador!" he rasped. "You debase yourself needlessly. Think you any of us can bear to see you in this state? Have pity on us if not on yourself."
At his words, Legolas seemed to notice the others for the first time. He flushed and averted his eyes compelling Glorfindel to tactfully lead the others back to main road of the settlement. Nonetheless, when he met Elladan's gaze again, his own was still dark and baleful, barely mastered rage in their near-indigo depths. The twin sighed wearily.
"Come, you must return to Imladris," he said. "Your disappearance will have caused everyone much anxiety."
Legolas started then stared at him in dawning realization.
"Aye, you are right," he conceded. "I did not consider that when I followed you."
Elladan nodded. "I thought not. Let us not tarry. I shudder to think what Adar will say when we get back."
They hastened back to rejoin Glorfindel. The Elda glanced frowningly at Legolas, dismayed that the prince had somehow managed to slip past the close guard kept on him. But he held his peace and only mildly inquired as to whether either Elf had incurred any injuries during the fighting. Having ascertained that none of his warriors had sustained anything more serious than shallow cuts and bruises, the fair-haired captain gave the order to prepare for the long trek back to Imladris. Prudently, he also sent two Elves ahead of the troop to get word soonest to Rivendell that Legolas was safe with them.
Taking only as much time as was necessary to burn the dead, wash off the grime and gore of battle and change into clean clothing, the patrol set off. But first they brought their prisoners to the nearest human village; whenever possible, the Elves preferred to let Men deal with their own. Then they went on their way at a hurried pace. Some inner voice told Elladan that it would be best if they gained the valley soonest and he persuaded Glorfindel to allow only the briefest of stops along the way.
Legolas remained silent for the most part, speaking only when spoken to. The twin wondered what thoughts troubled his friend's mind. Mindful of Thranduil's warnings, he and Glorfindel contrived to keep Legolas between them at all times the entire trip back to Imladris. The prince did not object to their obvious protectiveness and continued to hold his tongue with disconcerting stolidity.
It was only when they finally descended into the vale and crossed the Bruinen that the prince came out of his distressing silence. He turned restive as they neared the Last Homely House.
"I suppose I shall have to explain myself to Lord Elrond," Legolas grimaced at length.
Elladan was staring at something in the distance. His expression did not bode well for the prince's peace of mind. "'Tis not Adar you have to worry about but Elrohir," he warned.
Legolas snapped his eyes in the direction of Elladan's stare. He sucked in his breath. The younger twin awaited them by the stables, his eyes black and stormy, mouth grim and tight, his entire body tense as a drawn bowstring. The prince quailed inwardly. He had never yet had Elrohir's fearsome rage directed at him.
It was apparent the other warriors had and that they did not wish to confront the younger twin while he was in that state for they changed their course and headed for the rear doors of the stables instead. Even Glorfindel chose to join them, leading his steed away from the inevitable confrontation. Legolas let out an apprehensive breath as he and Elladan reached the stables' main gates.
Hardly had they dismounted when Elrohir grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
"You sneaked out on me!" the Elf-lord growled. "You promised me you would not leave Imladris!"
"I am sorry," Legolas lamely apologized.
"I trusted you!" Elrohir spat out in his agitation, his body beginning to tremble as his fury mounted. "I thought that meant something to you!"
Legolas's eyes widened. Stricken with remorse, he suddenly threw his arms around the other Elf, burying his face in Elrohir's shoulder.
"Forgive me, Elrohir! Please forgive me!" he cried out.
For a terrible moment, Elrohir stiffened and did not respond. He looked across at Elladan who looked back at him with grave concern. Finally, the younger twin exhaled sharply and hugged the prince back though, Legolas noticed anxiously, he was still shaking with emotion.
"I did not mean to lose my temper," he said heavily. "'Tis just that...Valar, Legolas! I was so scared! We looked everywhere for you and when I realized you'd followed the troop..." he shuddered as he relived the fear and anxiety following his discovery. Legolas, sensing the other's renewed tension, bit his lip guiltily and tightened his embrace of his friend.
Elrohir roughly grasped the prince by his arms and held him away, his pewter eyes flashing vexedly. "Don't ever do that again, Calenlass!" he hissed, not quite able to banish the ire in his voice.
"I won't," Legolas promised fervently. "But, please, do not look at me like that, Elrohir," he pleaded. "It breaks my heart to have you angry with me." He gulped painfully. "I...I am not used to it."
Elrohir went still. With an effort, he reined in his temper. He blew his breath out, releasing the remaining tension in his body. Then he nodded and pulled the archer back into his arms. Legolas gratefully accepted the much calmer embrace.
After a while, he obediently accompanied Elrohir to the house. Elladan, however, felt much too wound up to follow suit. The harrowing events just past and his discovery of Legolas' capacity for such un-elvish brutality was perturbing to say the least. He needed to release some of his tension and he doubted he would find the means inside the Last Homely House. Catching sight of Helmir heading for the barracks with the other warriors, he remembered the Elf's not-so-subtle invitation before the encounter with the brigands. With a purposeful gleam in his slate-blue eyes, he strode towards the barracks, already tugging impatiently at the clasps of his tunic.
Needless to say, young Helmir did not get any rest for what remained of the afternoon. Not that he took umbrage at the Elvenlord's peremptory demand for the pleasure of his company or the resulting order that he make himself available--and accommodating--for the next several nights.
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Chapter end notes: Hisimë - Quenya for November
Naneth - Mother
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