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Posted: Aug 26th, 2004 at 09:55 pm
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Unnaned
by Elven Demagogue
Rated: NC-17
Summary: The night before the Fellowship departs, Legolas encounters an Elven spirit wandering the outskirts of the Valley. It turns into an event of lament for both he and Elrond.
Houseless Ones – Elven spirits that spurn the call of Mandos after being slain. They wander Middle-Earth, seeking hosts to enslave.
*
The valley was clothed in dusk, hues of blue saturating the gardens. The scent upon the air was familiar, that of jasmine and other flowers belonging to the night. The weight of his heavy task was on his mind, but Legolas did not entertain all the dark things that could happen. His duty was clear and always he performed to the utmost of his ability. Ah, but how he had longed to take rest here within Imladris again for longer than he was being allowed. Not often did he leave the great forests of his home, but to come here in the house of his friends. The Hall of Fire was his favorite place to be, sitting among Noldor both great and modest, listening to tales recounted and songs being sung. So many would come and tell of their doings or sing of old times, but there was one he enjoyed far more than others.
The Prince of Mirkwood crossed his arms, wandering the woods. He could hear the water running along the valley and pretended to lose his thoughts within the great tumult of the Bruinen. The breath of the night cloaked him in a soft comfort that led him away from the House of Elrond into the well-seeming darkness of the surrounding forest. He quite lost himself in his thoughts until he realized just how far he had gone. The quiet closed in on his thoughts, drawing his attention back to where he was going. Not a soul would be found out this far.
He stopped and leaned for a moment against a tree, admiring the beauty here. The footsteps of autumn approached on swift feet, he could see the evidence all around. Beneath his feet he swept a fallen leaf from his path and listened to it crumble. It was peaceful out here, soothing to a troubled soul. In a few days he would be leaving, but he did not want to. His heart tugged at him to remain. But he had given his word and that was his bond. He would break it for no man save by his own slaying.
He was being frivolous, he admitted to himself, grieving small wounds when there would be much ahead of him to turn his joy into sorrow. He always felt this way when it came time to depart the shelter of Imladris. He had remained once an entire year, but could stay no more lest his tongue betray his heart’s secret. There would be no pursuit of what he wanted, no matter how terrible his desire was. In the end he could not suffer the wanting from afar and left after his extended stay, much to the sorrow of friends who had gotten used to his being there.
It was like coming home, arriving here after being away for so long, and yet it was no home he could call his. Forever would Imladris be his ivory tower, the dream of wonder that could not be possessed. Perhaps it would be different later, when he had grown, but now it was a bittersweet mesh between pain and need.
“How well I know the feeling.” The voice startled Legolas utterly. He had heard no branch snap, nor footfalls, nor anything to betray the coming of anyone. He moved from the tree, turning this way and that, seeking the face that belonged to the speaker. There was no sign of anyone nearby.
Rattled slightly, Legolas knit his brow and said into the shadows, “Who spoke?”
There was a soft kind of laughter, self-mocking and barely a breath. The voice became clearer when he said, “Look behind you, Prince of Mirkwood.” It was Elrond.
He turned, expecting to see the Lord of Rivendell, expecting to ask him why he was behaving so strangely, for indeed the sound matched and yet the manner did not. Instead what he saw was not more than a shade of movement before his eyes, approaching soundlessly. There were the gray eyes, the long, raven-hair and regal countenance. He wore robes of black trimmed with silver, his hair loose along his shoulders. His lips were touched by a smile, but there was no substance to his being.
Legolas held his hand up and watched the lord mirror his actions until their palms nearly touched, yet at the last the other drew away with a sigh. “What has happened?” he asked, desperately seeking some sort of answer to the riddle before him. A well of worry opened within him as he followed his suspicions to conclusion. “Elrond, have you…faded? Do you make the trip to Mandos? Why? Who has done this to you?” Already accusatory suspicions formed in his heart concerning the Men, more specifically Boromir who had not been overly happy of the Council’s choice. Had he slain Elrond to gain revenge?
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So little of what seems to be is never really there, so much of what's here I resent.
I am a demagogue, born of eternal flaw, forever just a memory, my friend.
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Posted: Aug 26th, 2004 at 09:55 pm
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That laugh returned, caressing over him like a gentle touch as the shade watched him with amused eyes. “You conclude much, Grandson of Oropher. Such an imagination, but I promise you have not even begun to consider the truth.”
“You hear my thoughts.” It was a statement made without certainty of how he should receive that. Legolas reached for him again, watching the elder’s hand draw away. “What is the truth then, my lord?”
Those grey eyes penetrated him deeply, taking more care than they ever had before. “The truth is I am not your lord. I am Tar-Minyatur, First King of Númenor. Your lord would call me Elros.”
Not much was ever spoken of Elros, for it pained Elrond to tell of his loss, but one fact stood out among all the others Legolas was aware of. “Impossible,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Tar-Minyatur was mortal and passed away millennia ago. What game do you play, demon?”
His eyes widened slightly and Elros watched the young prince thoughtfully. “I play no game,” he countered innocently enough, folding his hands before him and pacing a few steps to the side. He inhaled as if he owned a body that would call for it. “Long have I wandered these paths, Legolas. Yes, I was mortal, but before leaving this world all mortals must first be gathered in the Halls of Mandos ere they may pass unto the Halls of Kings. I denied that destiny.”
His tone was matter-of-fact and grave. Legolas took a step towards the shade, studying him intently. “Nay, it cannot be. You…you must have passed on.”
“Yet here I stand before you,” Elros retorted simply, looking for a challenge. When none came he looked down upon the earth as if intimate with the surroundings. “Such was not my will. Strong was my desire to remain, for reasons I believe we may share. Is it so hard to believe love would keep me here?”
“Love?” the Prince of Mirkwood repeated gently, looking upon that visage and lamenting the flitting of pain there. It reminded him of Elrond so intensely he nearly reached out to comfort the soul before him, but he remembered himself before such a fatal mistake. “It is not hard to believe, but if you are indeed one of the Houseless Ones, then I must tell your brother of this encounter that he may banish you from these lands. I know the tales of old. I know what you would do.”
A crooked smile touched the lips of the spirit before him, a dangerous glint appearing in those eyes only to burn away after a few seconds. “Those are actions by force of will. I only wish to speak to you, Legolas. I see a kinship between our souls that you do not yet know.”
Legolas shook his head, blind to what Elros meant. “What kinship could there be between you and I?”
“Elrond.” The reply was unexpected and strange. There passed within the eyes of Elros an age-old pain that cut Legolas to the quick. The spirit looked towards the Last Homely House as if longing for what could be found deeper within the valley.
Lowering his voice, the Prince of Mirkwood pressed for more, saying, “Elrond? What do you mean?”
Elros folded his hands together and looked at the younger softly, in understanding. “Did I not say that it was love that bound me here? Do you not have love for my brother?” He peered into those dark blue eyes of the prince’s, trying to speak the answer without words.
He considered it a moment and when he finally knew what it was Elros was suggesting, he inhaled sharply. “That is not natural,” he said without thinking, causing the spirit to sigh. Legolas blushed as he thought of it. “I am sorry for my outburst, but you are his brother.” Though he knew Elrond would not return such feelings, a momentary sting of jealousy touched his heart.
“I know all too well the relationship I have to him,” Elros breathed, studying the prince with an unreadable expression. “I know my wants are not natural, but like yours, they are there whether or not they can ever be reciprocated.”
The sharp ending to that made Legolas look away. The familiar pain of need struck him again and he realized that was what he had just done to Elros. “Again I say I am sorry. I should not have judged you so harshly. It is just that such things are uncommon.” Again he brought his eyes to the spirit, daring to study Elros openly. He could not help but feel curious even as he pushed away the irrational stirrings of protectiveness over a thing he did not even own. In the end he knew Elros was not so different than him, a fact that dulled his displeasure. “Does he know?”
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![IP]() Logged |
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So little of what seems to be is never really there, so much of what's here I resent.
I am a demagogue, born of eternal flaw, forever just a memory, my friend.
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Posted: Aug 26th, 2004 at 09:56 pm
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The Half-Elven spirit folded his hands together as if considering how much he should reveal. Those gray eyes were so like Elrond’s in appearance, but within there burned a wholly different personality, Legolas perceived. He was not fully certain he should trust this ghost, no matter how noble his bloodlines. “Once when we were young, in Lindon before my choice was made, we were celebrating together with Gil-galad and had a little too much wine. My brother aided me to my bed and as I fell to the softness I pulled him with me, drawing him into an embrace. Before I could think to heed wisdom I kissed him upon the mouth. He never spoke of it after that night, nor let on that he recalled, so I really do not know if he knew. He certainly never tasted the full breadth of my affection.”
The story stirred different feelings in Legolas, from a reawakening of his jealousy to something else. A thrill passed through him as he considered Elrond being pulled to a bed for a kiss. Such simple thoughts scathed him with his need and lulled him with soft fantasies. He both regretted this meeting and was interested in furthering it. Elros picked up on that with a smile, moving closer. “I…” Legolas whispered, not sure what he could say to make it better, knowing full well there was nothing that would work.
“I know,” Elros said softly, raising his hand as if to touch Legolas. The ghostly hand that would have pressed against his cheek simply passed through, leaving him unsatisfied. “Such want in you. Such desire. My brother is a fool for not making you his.”
Being talked to in such a way bothered Legolas in more ways than one. He shook his head and drew away. “I am a Prince of Mirkwood,” was all he could think to defend himself with.
The shade smiled and stepped closer again, persisting. “Perhaps you wish to be the taker?” he suggested with an intense expression that made Legolas blush again. “Ah, his pleasure would be beautiful to witness. And to cause. Yes, you like that thought, even if you know he would never allow it.”
“Why do you tempt me with these things?” the Prince of Mirkwood asked sharply, feeling betrayed by his own emotions. Elrond was good at reading the emotions of others by simple study, but Elros was invading him in a way he felt went beyond that. “He would not allow me to touch him under any circumstances, but yet you taunt me.”
Elros sighed, shaking his head, his dark hair moving against his shoulders. “I do not mean to taunt you. I share these secret thoughts, Legolas. I have had them for generations.”
The younger Elf’s glare was unforgiving. “Then why do you speak of it?”
“Perhaps I taunt myself,” he answered sorrowfully, turning away slightly. “I am sorry. For both of us.”
Legolas exhaled, watching the familiar form. He could not figure Elros out. He was compelling, certainly, in a way the Wood-Elf distrusted, and yet he could not tear himself away from this place now. “I am sorry. You reopened wounds I have been trying to heal for some time now. I mean no ill-intent.”
“Nor do I,” Elros returned, looking again at the golden-headed archer. He took a tentative step towards Legolas and ran his hand over a tumble of hair hanging down his shoulder. The likeness he had to Elrond giving him so tender a touch deepened the chasm of pain within him. “I only wish to share. So few come this far from my brother’s home and those that do would not understand me as you do. I cannot go into Rivendell because of the power of Elrond’s ring. It drives me back no matter how hard I try to overcome the barrier.”
“If you could get in, would you?” Legolas asked him.
The elder considered it carefully, then nodded. ‘If only to see him again. But that requires aid.”
“Aid?”
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![IP]() Logged |
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So little of what seems to be is never really there, so much of what's here I resent.
I am a demagogue, born of eternal flaw, forever just a memory, my friend.
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Posted: Aug 26th, 2004 at 09:56 pm
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Something in those eyes should have warned Legolas off, but his compassion blinded him. Elros nodded and looked to the ground beneath his feet with a loneliness that mirrored the expressions that sometimes crossed Elrond’s visage. It was enough to distract the Mirkwood Elf away from the dangerous desire in those eyes as the other said, “There is a way I may pass. If I were bound to one who was living, then I could move beyond the power that keeps me out. But who would trust me as I am?”
Legolas froze for a second, taking a step back. Elros was visibly saddened by his gesture and nodded, as if his suspicions were confirmed. “What do you mean ‘bound’?” the younger found himself asking.
But the elder shook his head with a firm expression. “Put it out of your thoughts, penneth. It is too high a price and I would not lose the only company I have had in ages by the asking.” A smile spread across his lips. “But I would ask something else.”
Suspicious now, the Wood-Elf said, “What is that?”
The answer was not nearly as bothersome as he had expected. “Would you stay a while? Talk with me? It has been ages since I have spoken to anyone. I get…lonesome.”
It was a small thing and Legolas agreed, interested enough to take the risk. Elros had done nothing and very likely would have by now if he could. “I will speak with you,” he consented, following as the elder led him to a where a fallen tree lay. He took a seat on the hard trunk and looked up. “Tell me your tales?”
The smile on the other’s face was genuine. It reminded him sharply of a time he had spoken over dinner to Elrond of one of his own adventures. He had recounted of a dangerous hunt that he had been successful in and the Lord of Rivendell had smiled in the same way. Perhaps he had been too hasty, he concluded. This was the brother of Elrond, after all. What evil could lie within Elros?
*
tbc…
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![IP]() Logged |
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So little of what seems to be is never really there, so much of what's here I resent.
I am a demagogue, born of eternal flaw, forever just a memory, my friend.
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Posted: Oct 25th, 2006 at 01:31 pm
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