Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Elrond/Gil-galad im remembrance
Summary: The Fell Winter of 2911 results in some unexpected revelations.
Notes: Written for LJ's 50passages challenge prompt 006: "I see shapes of Men and of horses..."
Imladris, Year 2911, Third Age
Sleep evaded him. He was restless. Something was not right; he could feel it. After checking up on his brother, he promptly ascertained the source of his anxiety. Following his intuition, he ultimately found himself crossing the threshold into the armoury... and stopped dead in his tracks. There stood his quarry, riveted before Aeglos, clearly oblivious to his immediate surroundings. Lord Elrond was lightly stroking the spear's shaft, apparently having a conversation with its deceased owner, Gil-galad, preceding High King of the Noldor.
"I am changed mellon nîn. The cares of our people weigh heavily upon my faer. The Dark Lord's vengeance is imminent; I fear for Endor - Middle Earth. I've had dreams again. Visions. I see shapes of Men and of horses. We have defeated him once... but victory's toll was too great. You should never have perished. And now, fate would have us face his wrath yet again. I cannot do it without you melethron. I need you."
Taken aback by his father's words, the gwanunig was stunned silent. Though he knew his presence was encroaching, he could not bring himself to leave the scene at hand.
"Tolo ad enni, ind nîn." - Come back to me, my heart. Elrond's voice was laced with yearning.
Meanwhile, his son stood transfixed, a sickening feeling twisting at his gut, as he witnessed his father openly weep.
Crumbling to the ground, his back supported by the rough surface of the wall, the Lord of Imladris was overcome with remorse. "Forgive me Celebrian."
Recovering from his initial shock, though still dazed by this late discovery, the eavesdropper staggered back, hoping to withdraw unnoticed. Alas, fortune played against him as he stumbled over the leg of a brazier, dislodging it from its position. The metal-wrought mass grated along the stone floor, producing a screeching noise that resounded across the arsenal. Quickly regaining his footing, he fled from the room without a second glance as a voice echoed behind him.
"Elrohir!"
"Have you confounded rationality with foolishness? Or has your reputed good sense suddenly forsaken you."
Elrohir's bearing stiffened as the mocking words were pronounced with obvious ire. Having just now entered his mother's private garden, he certainly hadn't expected some company; especially at this late hour of the night.
"You *know* the woods are forbidden without proper escort. This *is* no ordinary winter. The White Wolves have grown bold in their roaming. Even here, in Imladris."
But the younger elf would not accept reproof - not in his present state of disquiet. Perhaps reason had abandoned him, to dare argue with an elder. "I do not fear them! I am no child to be told where I can or cannot go within this valley."
"A grown-up indeed! Yet heedlessly do you solely wander through the woodland, and so needlessly do you gamble your own demise." Despite the obvious concern shadowing the speaker's angry tone, a deeper emotion, not unlike dread, lay hidden beneath as his next words were uttered in a barely audible whisper, "And possibly that of those who care most for you." This elicited a questioning glance from the youngest of Lord Elrond's twin sons.
"Do you think Elladan would survive your passing should an *unfortunate* accident befall you?" It was meant as a reproach, not a direct accusation. Still, such a perturbing thought appeared to sober the elf-knight as he felt the full brunt of guilt's oppression on his conscience. "Geheno nin." - forgive me.
Crestfallen, Elrohir foundered onto a nearby bench, the unrestrained passion inherent to his momentary outburst abruptly expended. His nocturnal visitor sank down beside him, shrouded with a morose aura and adopting a contemplative, albeit troubled, mien.
"Your naneth never felt contempt towards your adar in light of his heart's apparent duality. Why should you?"
The query was left unanswered as a heavy silence settled between the two comrades.
"Would you not speak of it some? Entrust your grieving heart to an old friend's care, even if only for a spell."
And so the venom spewed out of the peredhel's mouth with little restraint and lesser grace. "He has betrayed her memory with thoughts of past indulgences with another! How can he reminisce about *him* and their senseless romping? 'Tis profanation!"
As he looked up at his interlocutor, his vitreous eyes shone with a marked vulnerability, akin to that of an elfling having encountered deception from a loved one for the very first time. The pain etched upon his visage spoke volumes of the anguish buried inside. Engulfed with sorrow, his flawless face glowed in its pallor, giving him semblance to an ethereal being of implicit purity. In that moment, his beauty was devastating.
"A great deal more than mindless cavorting occurred between the two, pen neth. They shared a deep love, founded through friendship, trust, mutual respect and significant allure. Their relationship spanned centuries of hardship and, unfortunately, very few moments of quietude."
"But he was ada's mentor!" The younger twin could not quite conceal his aversion to such a revelation. In fact, he almost seemed to begrudge his father this erstwhile union. Could his revulsion stem from an unfathomed emotion quelled within?
A heavy sigh bespoke unheeded weariness. "Aye, that he was dearest one... as I am yours." The avowal was plainly stated, a-matter-of-factly, without any pretense.
"Glorfindel?" The Seneschal's former student had blanched considerably, seemingly at a loss for further speech.
"Saes, Elrohir. 'Tis my burden. I beg you not to worry over so paltry a matter." Glorfindel was unable to look onto him, thus choosing to stare at his own feet, a scarlet shade suffusing along the exposed column of his throat and cheeks.
Elrohir was struck with disbelief. A myriad of thoughts assailed his already staggering mind as he tried to navigate across the raging current of feelings dashing from his quaking heart. Following a few deep breaths and a surprisingly successful attempt at composure, he looked askance at the golden warrior and asked with infinite calm, "How long?"
At first, there was no reply. Only the play of fingers twining together and the fluttering of lashes indicated some measure of shyness and the misting of eyes. Bowing his head, as if in shame, the ancient elf finally gave his answer. "Long enough for my heart to know it wants no other. You are my soul's flame. It cannot subsist without you."
An ironical smile graced his tear-streaked features as Elrohir turned towards his mentor. "Ever has it been my selfsame burden." Reaching out to clasp their hands together, he prompted their gazes to meet in a silent pledge. "You will be mine, meleth nîn."
Understanding Elrohir's need for solitude, Glorfindel suppressed his burgeoning excitement at the latter's admission. It had been a melancholic night, laden with revelations. Many centuries had he waited, never presuming his affection would be reciprocated. But now, being privy to the twin's own heart, surely he could exhibit some measure of patience. Their time would come; they would have their chance at togetherness, once father and son had found closure. Hence, giving his beloved's hand one last squeeze, he stood to leave. "I will not venture far, should you need me." With a final glance over his shoulder, he caught Elrohir's fixed look and smiled in return.
For within his Star-Rider's tender regard, the illustrious Balrog-Slayer had seen the promise of a bonded hereafter for both their blessed spirits.
The End
Elvish translations:
Mellon nîn - my friend
Faer - spirit
Melethron - male lover
Gwanunig - twin
Naneth - mother
Adar/Ada - father
Peredhel - half elven
Pen neth - young one
Saes - please
Meleth nîn - my love
Send Anoriell feedback
Visit Anoriell's website
The characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No profit is being made by the authors or the archivist and no disrespect is intented.
Do not post this work elsewhere without the author's consent.