Rating: R (for Elrond and Legolas's wedding night ;-D)
Pairings: Elrond/Legolas, Thranduil/Haldir, Boromir/Aragorn, Elrond/Gil-galad mentioned.
Summary: Baby-bun finally marries Elrond, and Estel finds happiness.
Notes: This story will bring together more than two years of work, and I hope that nobody gets offended by my very different portrayal of Aragorn and his destiny. The Aragorn / Boromir story continues in the "Heir of Gondor" stories. These can be found at Fellowship or at Boromir: A Hero's Journey
Legolas's and Haldir's story continues in the next part of Little Legolas Adventures: A Happy Ending (Part 2 of 2)
Series: Little Legolas Adventures
Warnings: non-canon in many aspects, mpreg mentions (but these are discreetly done, I promise)
Elrond laughed as he heard the commotion outside his door.
Moments later, a vision in find brocade and jewels scurried behind him, hotly pursued by Glorfindel.
"Ai! Sorry my Lord, but he was too quick as a child, and he's still too quick now," the fearsome warrior said. His feigned angry expression and serious tone did nothing to hide the affection and amusement in his voice though, just as it had failed to do so when a much shorter and younger Legolas used to dart past him and into Elrond's arms during visits to Rivendell.
"Never mind, Glorfindel, he has my permission to come visit me before the ceremony," Elrond explained.
The faithful lord knew this was against custom but he just bowed and smiled. "As you wish," he said before closing the door behind him and resuming his post.
Elrond turned to face his betrothed just in time to see Legolas shaking his head violently, face skewed in irritation, the small wooden box he was carrying pressed against his taut stomach, forgotten for the moment.
"Ha ha, Legolas, have a care! Here, let's take off your tiara and ear-rings until we go out, but you must suffer your hair a little longer I'm afraid," the healer said.
"My hero as always," Legolas said, sighing with relief as these were removed by loving hands. Jewellery was so annoying!
Elrond gaped at the elaborate maze of braids interwoven with large, expensive berry-shaped jewels that adorned Legolas's pretty head. If he stood out in the sunlight at the wrong angle his guests would be blinded by his hair-do.
"Haldir begged me to let him do my hair, and of course I was happy to let him as he's so good when it comes to dressing properly for occasions and that sort of thing, but I didn't think he would torment me so. I can't feel my scalp," Legolas said.
He was in an unusually chatty and expressive mood. With the war over and surrounded by older elves who knew him from his babyhood, Legolas felt free to act younger than he usually did. Elrond thought it was adorable, as well as an essential part of healing a soul damaged by such intense campaigning and loss.
"But it befits a prince of his people," Elrond said lovingly.
"I hope you don't mind that your hair will be simpler," Legolas said, suddenly shy. "I only know how to do one hairstyle, other than the travel-braids I usually wear."
"And which one is that, Legolas, my love?" Elrond asked, although he wouldn't have minded even wearing his hair plain or in travel-braids if he could indulge his young beloved's wish to set his night black tresses for their wedding.
"I'll weave dew-drops into your hair," Legolas said beaming. He opened the beautiful wooden box, which was filled with combs and exquisitely cut crystals.
"You still remember that afternoon? Why, you were so tiny then, and still a little traumatised after your fall into the bleach tub," Elrond said, eyes wide with wonder.
Legolas just smiled sweetly and gestured for the elegant half elf to sit down at the dressing table.
"Thank you so much Elrond, for breaking custom and indulging me. It's just I've always wanted to braid your hair at our wedding, for as long as I can remember. And I love it too, that you'll wear only my ring after today," the beautiful elf lord said as he combed out the locks he had loved snuggling against all his life.
Legolas saw the momentary grimace, and blushed. "I'm so sorry, Elrond. I didn't mean to remind you about...,"
"It is okay, my love. That ring is safe with Arwen in Valinor now, and I am very happy that she followed her soul's inner voice and took Erestor as her husband. I care not that he is low born among our people. When she was so sick during the war, I think she realised the true nature of her heart. If it hadn't been for Galadriel's meddling and hopes for a personal as well as political alliance with the world of Men, Arwen would have loved Estel as a brother and nothing more," the Lord of Rivendell said.
"I am pleased for my daughter, but so sorry for the hurt it has caused Estel," he finished.
Legolas nodded. Then he bit his lip, not daring to ask what was practically bursting from his heart.
"I do not miss my ring, Legolas. I assure you that your sire's shadow will not haunt our special day today," Elrond smiled now.
It was childish of the prince, he knew it, but he never saw that ring as a ring of power, but rather as a symbol of his late sire's hold on Elrond's heart. That grip had to be broken before Legolas could claim that mighty soul for himself; and he had never felt fully secure until the day he saw Arwen sailing away with that ring on her finger and off Elrond's.
"Thank you, my love, for giving me the answer I needed," he said warmly.
Legolas worked speedily after that, weaving crystal into braid over and over again, and after a few moments of this monotonous activity, his mind started to drift...
..."Isn't Estel adorable with his new hair-do?" Haldir purred, well pleased.
The newly appointed March Warden, the youngest in history and also reputedly the most favoured shared consort of both the ancient Lord and Lady of Lorien, walked beside the Prince of Mirkwood with a candle made of wax and flower petals in his skilful hands.
In front of them the five-year-old trotted sure-footedly, holding his own candle carefully in childishly small, but already sure, hands.
Haldir had a deep affection for the little human. The March Warden had first met the boy at the funeral of Arathorn, whose death had been an unexpected and sudden loss. The sight of the small figure, barely able to walk properly, scrubbing fiercely at his eyes with a tiny fist while protectively clinging to the hem of his mother's mourning dress, reminded Haldir forcibly of Orophin. The renowned warrior-beauty's youngest brother had not been much older when Haldir's much beloved father, an adventurer and traveller like his oldest and most favoured son, fell to orcs upon returning from celebrating Arwen's birth in Rivendell.
Haldir's mother had perished from heartache soon after, leaving the orphaned eldest son to care for his two brothers. He had been adopted by the state of Lorien, and rose through the ranks of warrior elf lords rapidly, ultimately being promoted to favourite among the consorts shared by the Lord and Lady. In was in the latter capacity that he had joined the elite and high born party sent to Rivendell to help Elrond bury the Heir of Isildur.
The March Warden had carried the small boy so the grieving widow could take part in the funeral rites, and Estel had immediately decided that he especially liked wrapping his arms around this particularly elegant and sweet smelling neck. They had become fast friends ever since.
"Isn't it a little elaborate for so young a child?" Legolas asked.
"I set my own hair in more complex patterns by the time I was five," Haldir said, unable to hide the smugness in his voice.
Legolas grinned. Haldir hid his brave, nurturing, compassionate and loyal nature under layers of vanity and sharp wit, but the elf prince knew the elf lord well enough to love him despite his haughtiness.
"Oh, I remember. I guess he's lucky you're visiting and could set his hair so prettily. I'm happy Estel wants to join us for the autumn festival; none of the other heirs have ever observed this custom. Maybe they followed Elrond's example," the delicate blonde sighed.
"I'm sure that Elrond will walk into these woods and light a candle for you one of these days. Anyway, he didn't even light a candle of love for his wife all the time they were married," Haldir said comfortingly. "I have sources."
"Thank you for your kindness, Haldir. I wonder if he lights a candle in his heart anyway for my dead sire?" Legolas said sadly.
"I seriously doubt it. While we're on the topic, Legolas, I think you should pursue Elrond more vigorously. Celebrian has been gone over sea for a long time now, if you don't get a move on, someone else might beat you to it," Haldir said.
"Oh, I couldn't! I haven't done anything worthy of him yet!" Legolas lamented. He could see Haldir working up a nag, so he hastily changed the topic.
"Who is Ara-Estel lighting a candle for?" Legolas asked. They could not address the heir by his real name, he was not to be burdened with the weight of his destiny until his shoulders and heart grew large enough to bear it.
"My one true love, of course," Estel himself replied.
The elves smiled down indulgently at him.
"I dreamed of him last night. There was a terrible battle, and I couldn't really see his face, but he had a round shield and a heavy broadsword and fair hair. It was very scary. And then the dream changed, and we were together in this beautiful garden, with a grand city in the background, gleaming white in the moonlight, lighting candles for each other. I awoke feeling that all was right in the world," the little boy said.
He had amazing gravity for one so young, when he wasn't up to mischief. He also possessed a disconcerting regal stillness during his rare quiet moments, which hinted at the man he would someday have to be.
"Elrond isn't going to be pleased, you know. You're to grow up and get married and have many sons," Haldir said, teasing his tiny friend.
Estel wrinkled his little face in concentration for awhile, and then beamed. "I will have a son. And you will have a son, Haldir, and they will be friends."
The elves smiled at such a fanciful dream. Both elf lords knew that the darkness was growing, and that their people would leave for distant shores soon. There would be no more elf children on Middle Earth after the war that was to come. The Evenstar was the last.
"Then maybe your true love is a woman dressed in armour," Haldir said, bending gracefully to pat Estel's wild curls.
The little boy was about to ask his friend if some women had beards when the singing started. He excitedly joined in, having laboured long and hard to learn the elfish words over the last month.
When first autumn day turns to night,
And the sky is afire with stars so bright,
And the moon lights darkness with silver,
Light a candle for the one you'll love forever.
When the golden leaves dance to the ground,
With song keep your dearest to you bound,
When the wind sings a melody to herald the fall,
Light a candle for the one you love most of all.
Let your heart decide the mood, rhythm and rhyme
To hold the one you love to you for all time
And as the trees sigh in autumn's winds and tempest,
Keep safe the light you lit for the one you love best.
This fall call upon the power of the stars above,
That you will always know warmth and love,
So even as the forest sleeps in the cold of winter,
You will always have the one you'll love forever.
This simple song had been sung by tens of thousands of voices, young and old, all full of love and hope. From as far back as even Glorfindel could remember this autumn festival had been celebrated to honour lasting and faithful love.
The warrior elf placed his candle between the twin candles of Elladan and Elrohir in the edge of a thicket. He only started participating in this ceremony himself comparatively recently, the year after the sons of Elrond came of age and converted the committed bachelor to a life of wedded bliss during a stormy night after an especially successful orc hunt.
Haldir placed his candle under a tree. Legolas placed his on a low branch that reached towards Elrond's rooms. At home, Legolas always chose a branch that pointed to Rivendell.
The candleholder, designed for flat surfaces, would not stand upright on the branch, so Haldir held his flame to burn the base of the elf price's candle. This allowed the melted wax to be pressed against the tree limb, fixing the candle in place as the wax hardened.
"Elrond," Legolas whispered, barely audibly, but with a strong and desperate hope welling in his heart.
After a short silence, the elves perked up.
"Did you hear that, Haldir? Someone said your name," Legolas said with delight.
"It was carried on the wind, I don't think it was a joke designed to provoke me," Haldir said.
"Who would be so bold as to wish for you when you have been chosen by your Lord and Lady?" Legolas asked, surprised.
"This deserves investigation," Haldir said, fairly sure he knew where the whisper had originated from.
"Legolas can watch me, you go find your admirer, Haldir," Estel said with a smile.
Haldir nodded and smiled his thanks; he would not have left if he thought it might disappoint the child, and then slipped away.
"Estel, your candle is almost half burned away. Where do you want to put it?" Legolas asked.
"There," Estel pointed to where the falls met the river, where the water danced and roared.
"There?" Legolas was surprised. The place where water crashed down practically on to the rocky riverbed below hardly seemed the most romantic of spots.
"He calls to me from the river," Estel said.
It seemed as though the boy's voice had deepened and spoke to him from far away.
Legolas felt as though a cold wind had blown through him, and then, suddenly, his fingers were braiding the last of the crystals into those luxuriously long, night black tresses that he loved so much. But his mind saw once again that solitary candle burning steadfastly by the roaring falls.
In a nearby room, the steady flame hypnotised Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. As he dressed for the ceremony when he would give baby-bun over to the care of Elrond, he recalled other scenes lit by candles.
Long ago, a flame had cast an orange glow on the small form huddled over a piece of parchment. The quill had looked oversized as childishly short fingers gripped it.
"Baby-bun, you should sleep," Thranduil said gently.
"Hello Father. I can't sleep yet, the messenger goes out to Rivendell tomorrow, and I want to finish my letter to Elrond," Legolas said. The elf child had surreptitiously taken off his tiara and bracelet when his father had left him to write his letter about an hour ago, and he had an ink smudge on his pretty left cheek, and on a few strands of hair that had found its way loose from his braids.
Thranduil smiled sadly down at his beloved child. He sometimes despaired that Legolas would grow up awkward. He could never stay well groomed and his skills as a scholar were limited. His interest in reading and writing were only fuelled by his desire to correspond with Elrond. Thank the Valar he was skilled with blade and bow.
Even then, could he ever win the love of a great lord noted for his wisdom and his poise?
The king feared it was a fruitless quest for his son, but he would try to help him any way he could. Thranduil laid out his documents and quietly worked as Legolas struggled to write.
It became a precious time for father and son, these mostly quiet sessions at the writing table at night. Thranduil remained the same, but as the decades passed, the bowed head grew bigger and fairer as the limbs grew longer, surer and even more exquisitely well formed. The braids finally decided to start staying in place, although ink smudges and a loathing of jewels had stayed with the now renowned elf warrior.
Thranduil smiled at his reflection, lit by firelight, and thought that soon Elrond would sit across Legolas at the writing table and he himself would wait in a far off place for the letters to come.
He ran a strong finger lovingly over the envelope that contained the letter from Legolas, saying that Elrond had accepted his marriage proposal at last and would he please come back to Rivendell immediately. It made him wistful, sad, proud and happy all at the same time.
Haldir sat in a comfortable chair, waiting for Thranduil to finish dressing. It was still hard for the former March Warden to imagine the life growing in his ferocious warrior-spouse's womb, even though the elf king had had to let out the many outfits he would wear to these festivities slightly.
When they made love Haldir could feel the little bump in the taut, tightly muscled abdomen, but very often, it still seemed too unbelievably wonderful that he would soon have a son.
Haldir felt awkward and slow still, his injuries from Helm's Deep had been terrible indeed, so his own wedding ceremony would have to wait until he was better (and feeling prettier). The marriage however, was official, and had been ever since Thranduil came to him in Elrond's healing rooms and reminded him of the promise he had made before the war. Haldir had been supremely moved that the king still wanted him, damaged as he was in body and spirit.
Their son had been conceived within weeks, even before Haldir was walking again, prompting much shy giggling from Legolas and a lot of scolding from Elrond.
The fair elf saw his spouse finger the letter from Legolas and guessed at his thoughts. He would never be able to forget the day when the elf prince had written that letter...
..."Why did you reject his proposal of marriage, Lord Elrond?" asked Haldir gently.
The wounded elf was semi-reclining in the fading sunlight, comfortably propped up by pillows in the long grass. His recovery was miraculously quick, considering that he had been seriously wounded at Helm's Deep only a few months before.
The humans had thought him dead, but thankfully his brother and Legolas had noticed that his heart was still beating during what was to have been his funeral rites. Bathed in Ent draught as the battle for Middle Earth raged, Haldir had been kept alive long enough to be saved by the combination of Galadriel's magic, Elrond's skills as a healer and Aragorn's healing hands after the war.
However, deep in his heart, the beautiful elf lord knew it was the love of a noble king that had kept him from entering the Halls of Mandos. Even death could not tear asunder the enduring bonds of Thranduil's devotion.
Elrond spent a few moments gazing at the large diamond and mithril ring on Haldir's elegant finger. On his third finger he wore a much simpler gold ring topped with a round ruby shaped like a berry. The latter was modest but it was Haldir' s favourite and had been ever since he was five.
Elrond smiled remembering how the ruby had been plucked from Thranduil's hair. How amazing it was that such a spontaneous gesture would come to mean so much centuries later.
The half elf also wondered if a less generous son than Legolas would resent the Mirkwood riches being showered on the king's pampered new spouse. Probably, baby-bun would be gleeful to see some his father's more elaborate jewels going to his dear friend, because it meant that he would not be forced to wear them.
"You are thinking of him. You wouldn't be smiling so tenderly otherwise," Haldir prodded. He knew very well that what he was about to do was cheeky and forward, but he had made a promise a long time ago to help Legolas win Elrond's hand in any way he could.
Also, the socially savvy elf knew, Elrond would not dare to tell him to mind his own business. Haldir had almost perished carrying out Elrond's orders to lead a band of elves to aid the human forces at Helm's Deep. Elrond felt very badly about the whole incident although it was not his fault, and felt that he owed a debt of gratitude to the grievously injured elf warrior. Luckily, the noble and kind half elf seemed to have forgotten that Haldir had volunteered for the mission and had persuasively urged the healer to stay behind to help in the defence of Lorien and to care for Arwen, who was ill with worry for Aragorn at the time.
"And I know that you have a huge pile of all his letters. You carried them all the way to Lorien, even when you were forced to leave your treasury and books behind to an uncertain fate. And then you carried them all the way back here after the war," Haldir pressed.
Elrond's defences were crumbling. Haldir noted this with a mental crow of delight. All that the half elf needed was the tiniest nudge so that he would cast aside caution and reason by falling headlong into love and marriage with Legolas. The elf prince had a much stronger effect on Elrond than anyone could have imagined.
Elrond, unaware of Haldir's mental machinations due to his own emotional turmoil, asked very softly, "How do you know this?"
"From lying around with nothing to do while waiting for my darling Thranduil to return from his brief visit home. I recognise the paper and the green leaf seal on the letters that you read when you think your patients are asleep," Haldir said.
"You know, Haldir, for more than two thousand years, he has written a reply in his own hand to every letter I have ever sent him. And I have read and kept them all. His first letter reads: "Dear Elrond, thank you for your note. I am well. Today I ate buns. Love, Legolas." How he laboured over that note, he wasn't even six yet! And there are small smudges all over the paper, where little fingers coated with cream or charcoal left their accidental mark," Elrond laughed suddenly.
Haldir started, and then smiled at the fond amusement and love in that chuckle.
"You cannot imagine how much I came to love the writer of those letters, as he matured and grew in spirit and deed and mind. I cannot begin to explain how much comfort these pieces of paper offer me because they come from his hand. I have said no, Haldir, because I love him too much to ever marry him," Elrond closed his eyes as he said this, and a shadow of despair clouded his handsome features.
"I loved his sire, Gil Galad, the way I love him now. Every letter is joy, every meeting is heaven, every tender glance makes me whole...I live in terror knowing that if I relent for only a moment, I would grow to love him more completely than any one person I have ever known. If I should taste the pleasure of Legolas's embrace I would be lost forever...," the half elf said these words with such fierce emotion that Haldir was awed into silence.
"And if he should leave me, it would be my end. I dare not try for such happiness for its absence would destroy me completely. Have you ever tried to hold the sun, Haldir? It burns. It burns! And the coldness when it is gone is beyond bearing, beyond belief...the love of heroes is too fleeting, and Legolas is one of the greatest. What can I offer him, Haldir? A broken heart and a rough form? A tired soul and a sad spirit?" Elrond sighed and then bowed his head.
And poor Legolas had been worried that Elrond thought him unworthy!
Haldir cleared his throat before he spoke, afraid that his sympathy would cause him to tear. "Lord Elrond, in rejecting him you are filling both your hearts with grief. He is the most steadfast elf I know, and he has loved you forever...,"
"Has he? Or has he loved the idea of me? Lord of Rivendell, shrouded in mystery and steeped in glorious history. I am much more boring than my image, I fear," Elrond said.
"Well! If you are determined to drown in self pity, then there is nothing even Haldir with the golden tongue can say to change your mind," the recuperating elf lord said in clipped, disapproving tones. Oh, he hoped this strategy worked, it had to or Legolas would fade away from despair.
Elrond started and frowned, unused to being chided by any elf.
"Look at me! I am the well used consort of the perverse Lord and Lady of Lorien, now unsuitable for their exalted pleasures because I am scarred and clumsy and weak (although I will always be grateful to my adopted mother for her contribution to my survival after Helm's Deep.) By your reasoning, am I not insane to accept Thranduil's proposal? He is a king, a warrior, almost a god to his people. What can I possibly give him that would be even close in value to the bountiful treasure of his hand in marriage?" Haldir asked.
He glanced at Elrond briefly, his tirade did not stem from real emotion, he only wanted to force Elrond into realising his folly in rejecting Legolas.
"Your love, of course," Elrond responded.
"You see, Lord Elrond, the worth of our affections is not weighed in our own eyes but in the hearts of those who love us. You would be ten times a fool to let happiness escape you because you fear its loss. I know it is terrifying, but tell me honestly: wouldn't you rather die after having embraced such joy than live for thousands of years knowing you let it go?" Haldir pleaded.
Tears ran down Elrond's high cheek bones as he thought about Haldir's words for long moments.
"By the Valar, Haldir, you are brave to scold me into submission. No other elf would dare. But you are right, of course you are right," Elrond smiled.
"It is hard for you to be wise when your heart is so scarred. Let me say the words you need to hear if your wounded soul dare not speak them for you: love him. Say yes! He will not betray you, his love is as sure and constant as the green leaves of spring that follow every winter, no matter how cold or harsh," Haldir drove his point home with conviction.
A few minutes of silence later, Haldir wondered why Elrond was still sitting beside him.
"He'll be hiding in the great fallen tree with a large cleft in it, the one by the river, where we used to play fortress-and-siege with Estel and the twins. Go to him, Elrond, why prolong your beloved's agony?" Haldir urged.
"I can see now why you are a war commander, Haldir. You can even move me to action," Elrond said, rising purposely, as if borne by the younger elf's energy.
"I try," Haldir murmured modestly, resisting the urge to puff out his chest and cheeks and look smug.
He squeezed Elrond's hand before the half strode off quickly and purposefully to go and accept Legolas's proposal of marriage. The letter to Thranduil had been written in joyful haste, bathed in tears of delight, that very night. Haldir had helped his childhood friend organise swirling thoughts, and had signed off on the same letter with hugs and kisses for his spouse.
"How naughty of him! Look, Haldir! Coming to the wedding ceremony on Elrond's arm, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do!" Thranduil gasped in dismay.
He was supposed to present Legolas to Elrond but had been unable to find his son when he went to the prince's bedchambers. He had hurried out when he heard the singing start, just in time to see the happy couple walking out hand in hand. In their other hand, each held a tall, elegant candle in a silver holder designed to look like a single vine with rich leaves curling around the white wax, and a base like an ornamental lance. The candles could therefore be pushed into the ground like standing torches.
The twins gestured quickly to him from where they were already standing under the designated tree. Thranduil darted forward with great speed and had to check himself from frowning at Legolas, as he arrived to stand beside his father while squeezing Elrond' s hand affectionately.
Elrond and Legolas turned to face each other, as the twins and Thranduil also turned to share happy smiles, while standing behind their father and son respectively. The wedding party offered handsome profiles to their excited guests.
The couple then stabbed the tall candles into the ground to their left, between themselves and the tree.
The elf choir stopped, and there was a short, solemn silence until loud chewing noises interrupted the quiet.
"Pippin!" Merry admonished as all eyes turned towards the hobbits, who were standing in front of the crowd of guests squeezed between the banquet table and the clearing under the tree. Pippin stopped in mid-bite and looked abashed.
"Sorry," he said. And then not knowing what else to say added, utterly cheerfully, "Please continue."
Aragorn was giggling behind the tree where he was concealed from the attendees' vision, and Legolas smiled winningly, delighted that the hobbits could bring joy to the king at such a desperately sad time in his life.
Elrond spared an indulgent glance at the greedy hobbit before starting to sing, in a deep, well modulated voice that elicited gasps of awe and delight.
They could not understand the words, but Elrond had imbued the ancient wedding song with so much love, and so much tenderness, that Sam immediately wrapped an arm around Frodo who snuggled into his shoulder with the ease of long practice.
Merry reached for Pippin' s hand and was alarmed to find both full of apples. Pippin shrugged at him helplessly and smiled sweetly. Their love was ever fraught with awkward moments, but that was probably why Merry loved him so much.
Gimli, thinking of Galadriel, sighed and hoped his beard hid his tears.
Aragorn walked with great dignity from behind the tree bearing a tiny tea light. He looked magnificently handsome in his ceremonial armour from Gondor, but Haldir, who never missed anything, noticed that the arm guards were Boromir's and not those made especially for the king.
It saddened him immensely to see the relic from a painful and haunted past. Aragorn had mentioned something about wanting Boromir to be represented in spirit at the wedding, which was also a reunion of sorts for the Fellowship, except for Gandalf, who had already sailed over sea with his ring of power, accompanied by Bilbo.
Aragorn had even laughed as he practised walking out from behind the tree in the days leading up to the ceremony. The newly enthroned king always felt a little ridiculous during formal ceremonies, and was also worried that he would accidentally extinguish the delicate flame with human clumsiness.
Aragorn was very kind to put up a happy front for Legolas. Haldir knew the real story, Estel had always sacrificed much for others and during quiet moments when he thought he was alone, he saw the king reaching for the jewel that no longer hung around his neck, check himself and then close his eyes in pain and resignation.
His wedding to Arwen should have come first.
But now she was in Valinor, with Erestor, who had loved her from the moment of her birth. Destiny was unavoidable and Galadriel's meddling had only caused both Arwen and Aragorn pain, well intended as it was.
Aragorn waited unobtrusively behind Elrond until the half elf finished singing the final stanza of his song, and held out the dainty tea light with two weapon and weather roughened hands. His adopted father took it gratefully from him and then Legolas stepped forward to cup Elrond' s hands with his own, eyes bright with tears. His smile was enough to move the heavens and the forests with joy, so great was his happiness.
At last he was marrying Elrond, after more than two thousand years of anxious dreaming and hoping.
Aragorn stepped back discreetly, so that he moved from standing beside the twins, to a spot behind them, and then finally to the area by the tree hidden from the eyes of the assembled guests.
Together, Legolas and Elrond lit the candle standing beside the tall half elf, and then, holding the tea light between them, they locked eyes as Legolas started singing.
Every now and then his almost supernaturally beautiful voice faltered as he thought he might be overwhelmed with passion and love for Elrond, but each time an encouraging glance from his beloved made him pick up the tune again.
It seemed there were surreptitious sobs and sighs everywhere by the time Legolas had finished singing and lit the tall candle standing next to him. Even Pippin had placed his apples in his pockets and taken hold of Merry's hand.
Thranduil reached for the tea light with a nod to Elrond that signalled approval and affection. He placed the little flame safely on the ground between the two burning candles and then handed Legolas his ring for Elrond as Elladan handed his father a ring, beaming his delight at the union with a smile that was mirrored on Elrohir's face beside him.
Legolas's usually sure hand was shaking as they exchanged rings, and he looked as if he might be undone by emotion. Elrond kissed his new spouse lightly on a chiselled cheek bone, avoiding a more passionate attempt at his lips by the younger elf. But, unseen by the large audience, the half elf shared a secret smile with his new spouse.
Thranduil cringed. Legolas was so unruly! The couple, now officially bound to each other, turned to face the applause and cheers. Elrond called for every one to join the newlyweds in the forest, where they could place their candles expressing love in celebration of the ancient autumn ceremony, before the feasting commenced. The exhilarated, if outwardly calm, half elf squeezed the hand that Legolas slipped into the crook of his arm.
Forgotten for a moment behind the tree, Aragorn furtively raised a fore arm and brushed the fine old leather against his own cheek. It was no substitute for the warm caress of their previous owner, but death left so little for the living to cling to.
Soon, the forests around Rivendell would be brightly lit by candles. He knew Legolas had burned a candle for Elrond every year since he was five, centuries ago, and Aragorn himself had often lit a candle for Arwen, his own heart full with the knowledge that she would light one for him. He had forgotten about the first time he had participated in the ceremony, although the memory sometimes lingered at the edge of his consciousness after vivid dreams.
Maybe all along she had lit a candle for Erestor, her unspoken although ultimately true love, for fear of upsetting her grandmother, who had so badly wanted Aragorn to fulfil his destiny motivated by the high love of the Evenstar of the elves.
The king sighed softly and then wondered why he felt the urgent need to take a solitary walk by the river near the large falls. He might do that after he went to congratulate the newlyweds and catch up with Gimli and the hobbits.
He supposed a broken heart was like any other wound. If it wasn't lethal, just bandage it up and continue on your way.
He really had no other choice.
Legolas hopped around in the room, bursting with energy, as Elrond waved to the assembled guests outside one last time before shutting the doors.
"Did you hear the hobbits hooting? They're such fun, I'm so glad that they could make it," the younger elf beamed. At last, at long last, Elrond was his. He stifled the urge to do a little victory dance, he wasn't a baby anymore, and settled for beaming adoringly at his beloved.
"You are more warm and magnificent than the sun," Elrond said, gathering his unusually fidgety spouse into strong arms. "I'm sure that was the loudest and most energetic 'chasing into the bedchambers' ceremony enjoyed by any elfin couple. I guess someone ought to have told the hobbits that it was only for show, rather than literal. They can run really fast for such little ones. But I much prefer it their way...,"
Legolas kissed Elrond fiercely, making them both breathless within moments.
The eager elf warrior plunged them both on to the ornate bed, but stopped as the half elf cried out with alarm.
"Legolas, hold on a minute, I want to savour this night," Elrond gasped.
"I'm doing it totally wrong aren't I?" Legolas asked; his deflation visible.
"Not at all, my darling, I'm just old fashioned. And I'd like to get out of all this fuss and jewels before, rather than after, when everything is all tangled," the older spouse replied. He kissed the elf prince lightly on a perfect cheek.
The blonde tresses took forever to work free, especially when swift, naughty hands darted out to squeeze and caress Elrond with increasing urgency as the half elf leaned over his spouse, who was seated in a chair.
Finally, the last jewel was placed carefully in a treasure box, and the freed strands cascaded like sun kissed golden silk on well made shoulders.
Elrond stole a kiss just as he took his turn on the chair, and was amazed at the quickness and concentration with which Legolas worked. "All done!" Legolas said triumphantly, barely a minute later.
Elrond was removing his own boots with well practised ease, and when he rose from the chair to face the blonde elf, his powerful fingers were already working loose his wedding robes.
When the rich fabric fell to the floor, Legolas caught his breath. He had dreamed, and he had fantasised, and he had hoped, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the half elf naked.
The mingled blood of man and elf was apparent in Elrond's form if not his refined, classically elfish manner. Each large muscle, well defined to form lines that pleased the eye and invited touch, combined the raw power of the younger race and the grace of the more ancient people.
When Legolas's wide eyes fell upon the semi-erect sex, fuller and larger then any he had ever seen on a male elf; nestled in ebony curls, a sharp flush rose from his high cheek bones right up to the tips of his ears.
Elrond smiled with relief. There had been a time when his nakedness had no longer been able to excite that red splash of lust on Gil Galad' s noble countenance, and it had never crossed the face of his wife, not even on the nights when they had made their children for the sake of their people.
It moved him beyond expression to see the sexual need on Legolas's face, on a heroic elf prince more desired than even his great sire, Gil Galad, had been. For a moment, Elrond was overwhelmingly afraid, he would lose his heart and soul tonight, he knew that with absolute certainty. But then he remembered Haldir's question, and decided that this union, for however long it lasted, would make his heart sing for eternity. And that was more than enough; more than anyone, mortal or immortal, had a right to ask.
When Elrond closed the distance between them and nuzzled his neck, Legolas was almost nerveless with need. All he could take in was the feel of Elrond's body pressed against his own, the unbearable tightness in his own balls and the throbbing desire of his straining sex.
He wasn't quite sure how he got into the bed, naked with Elrond on top of him, kissing him and touching him and loving him, but everything came in to sharp and amazing focus as his sex was suddenly enclosed by a hot, sucking warmth.
The cries and frantic moans that his efforts elicited made Elrond smile, he could already taste the seed leaking from the pulsing head. His fingers carefully kneaded the sensitive sacs in time to his suckling as his other hand sought Legolas's anal opening.
Elrond ignored for the moment the second, slightly moist opening, nestled and almost hidden in the hairless area between balls and anus, the gift of Legolas's royal blood, and the burden of all bi-gender elves. There would be time later for children, tonight was for pleasure.
The younger elf raised his knees high and thrust into his lover' s throat with wild abandon, and he didn't feel the pain as two fingers worked their way into his virgin opening. When Elrond started to stroke him deep inside, Legolas completely lost control.
There was so much of it, almost too much for the half elf to swallow, but the proof of pleasure and love in the strands of seed made it sweet.
Legolas was pushing himself down on the invading fingers, completely relaxed after his intense ejaculation. He had never received another man's pleasure inside before, and he had been apprehensive the previous night after saving himself for Elrond for centuries. Now however, the prospect of penetration was far more delicious than scary.
The powerfully built healer shifted position and cupped Legolas' s beautiful face with one large, elegant hand. The elf lord's eyes were closed, and the characteristic lines of emotion furrowed his brow, his lips were parted with soft moans, and his hair was wild on the plush pillow as his hips rose and fell on his lover's exploring fingers.
"I love you," Elrond whispered into a delicately curved ear just before he kissed it. He held Legolas's lithe, taut frame, cradling him in strong arms, as he pushed his sex into the untried anal opening.
Legolas whimpered, and trembled, but Elrond held him fast, and soon started a steady rhythm with his hips. The younger elf raised his knees as the pounding sex spread him wide, and the burning pressure became fierce bursts of pleasure.
The younger elf's sex filled rapidly again as he was taken. The friction against the sensitive head as it was rubbed against Elrond's taut stomach with each purposeful thrust, paired with the irresistible, building ecstasy radiating from deep inside him, made the prince almost mad with desire.
Elrond plunged deep and stilled the pumping hips with strong arms long moments later. He had savoured every gasp from his virgin lover during their urgent and prolonged first coupling, and the cries, building in intensity as he invaded the delicate opening with shallow, rotating thrusts, threw him over the edge. The powerfully built half elf spilled his seed inside the pulsing, tight opening seconds before Legolas reached his peak with a loud cry that was almost a sob.
"Did I hurt you, love?" the healer asked quietly, kissing his spouse, after they had caught their breath.
"A little in the beginning, but I feel wonderful now," Legolas said. "And very warm, I must be as red as a cherry."
Elrond rose on his elbows to regard the prettiest sight on all Middle Earth and grinned. "More pink than red, and certainly no longer a cherry."
"How rude," Legolas chortled. "You're pink too. How nice."
They laughed together, realising how idiotic they must sound, and delighted that it was perfectly all right, lying in each other' s arms.
Elrond moved to lie on his side beside Legolas, and the breathless blonde intertwined his fingers with that of his spouse's. The half elf's wedding ring glinted in the candle light.
"I always thought your hands were much bigger. But that's just silly because of course I've grown. I've always loved them though Elrond, your hands give me such comfort. And just when I thought I couldn't love you any more, or I would burst, it turns out that I can. Maybe if my love keeps growing I'll get fat?" Legolas mused.
And these are the deepest thoughts of our great and ancient race's hero of the Ring Quest, Elrond thought fondly.
"I don't think you'll ever be fat, Legolas, but I will always, always love you best of all," Elrond said, with heartfelt emotion.
"Always?" Legolas asked, suddenly sounding small and terribly vulnerable.
"Always always," Elrond confirmed. And because he was afraid he would come undone by emotion and frighten his new spouse, he gathered Legolas into his arms and held him fiercely.
"How are they going to have the energy to make love without dinner?" Pippin wondered aloud as the four hobbits went a beautiful, quiet spot by the river to talk and continue eating as the night's festivities wound down.
The merry Halflings had delighted in helping to "chase" the newlyweds into the honeymoon suite shortly after the newlyweds had lit their candles side by side in the forest.
However, elfish revelry fell far short of boisterous hobbit gatherings, and they very soon felt out of place cheering and hooting after the terribly elegant Elrond and Legolas as they retired for the night. Food quickly became the next matter of interest.
"Elves are strange, they 'ardly need to eat," Sam said.
"At least some lembas," Merry mused, and then laughed at the disgusted sounds that Sam and Frodo made. They had had more than their fill of lembas during the Ring Quest.
The hobbit was carrying a large dish laden with enough food to obscure his head were he to hold it up to his face. Just enough of a 'light snack' for four hobbits on a midnight picnic adventure.
"It's mighty eerie bein' out surrounded by so many candles," Sam said.
"When you think that they light it as symbols of love everlasting, it feels romantic, actually," Frodo said, but rather unconvincingly as he scampered to stand closer to his lover when a whisper seemed to pass through the leaves.
The hobbits were a lot more adventurous than their people usually were and soon arrived at a rather secluded waterfall. The violence of the rushing water made their hair stand on end, and the warm night seemed to grow suddenly cold.
"Let's not stay here. It feels strange somehow," Frodo said.
"I know. It reminds me of Amon Hen, I do not know why. The river roars the same way here, it doesn't elsewhere in Rivendell," Merry said, trying to explain and shake off his sense of unease. Pippin yelled just then, making his three friends start. Merry dropped the platter of food with a cry, and then looked up to admonish Pippin (they were too far from the banquet area to go back for more supplies.) What he saw stunned him into speechlessness.
"It's him, isn't it, Merry? As real as you standing before me," Pippin whispered, his eyes never leaving the spot right beneath the falls.
"It can't be," Merry said. "We saw him fall. Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli sent his body over the falls."
Frodo and Sam gaped in shock.
The figure standing in the rushing water neither moved nor spoke, and eerily enough, not even moonlight lit the features of the dark form. Only the shape was recognisable, and an air of indescribable loneliness and sadness emanated from it.
"Well, if it is Boromir, let's go get him out of the water," Pippin said valiantly, and with sincere eagerness.
His friends had no time to argue or comment, because suddenly they heard someone running powerfully and quickly towards the river.
"Boromir! Boromir!"
Aragorn did not slow down as he threw himself into the river, quickly clearing the short distance from the bank to the falls with his strong strokes.
And then, he vanished along with the phantom Boromir into the falls, before the hobbits' alarmed eyes.
"He calls to me from the river."
Legolas heard that small child's voice again, touched so eerily with an echo of the grown man's sombre timbre and tone, and saw in his mind's eye the small candle on the bank near the foot of the falls.
Now Aragorn sat quietly in a chair by the fire in his father' s cave, after a nine month absence, looking more weather beaten than ever but somehow radiating an air of contentment and almost self satisfaction.
Legolas tried not to stare at Boromir who sat silently in a chair beside his king. It was always surprising when he remembered periodically that Boromir had actually died. When he spoke to the man now, it seemed as if Amon Hen had never happened. The beautiful elf lord had no idea where to start asking the many questions that swirled in his mind.
The two men had arrived dirty and tired on horseback earlier in the evening when they had been embraced fiercely by their usually reserved elf friends.
Aragorn had crossed between the lands of the living and the realm of the dead and he had brought Boromir home with him. They had fought for what seemed like three hard, long years to find their way home, although in this world, Aragorn had only been absent nine months.
"Your Steward has been almost ill with worry. It is lucky Eowyn has given him strength these many months. We all thought you had died," Legolas began.
Aragorn shuddered at some horrible memory. Boromir squeezed his forearm and the handsome man's brow clouded with remembered pain.
"It was the worst thing I had ever faced, the unspeakably terrifying journey to cross realms. Worse than dying. We have seen things...," Boromir fell quiet and shook his head. Both men were speechless, thinking of unnameable traumas.
"Glorfindel is thousands of years old, and he never speaks of the nightmares he faced crossing from the Halls of Mandos back to Middle Earth," Legolas said quietly.
"It is good to be back among friends," Aragorn said, changing the subject abruptly and patting the large, protective hand on his arm. The intimacy of the movement made Legolas grunt almost inaudibly with sudden understanding. Of course. To them the journey had lasted three years, long enough for a courtship or to pick up on one that had been impossible during earlier days.
The door flew open unceremoniously just then, and a short whir of fur and blonde hair and jewels exploded into the room and jumped into Legolas's lap.
Boromir stared at the baby elf who held his gaze confidently and curiously, utterly comfortable and secure in Legolas's arms. Both men marvelled that the usually cool, reserved elves (with the exception of Thranduil and Haldir who made no effort whatsoever to hide the love they shared.) It was a different, and rather endearing, facet of Legolas's personality that they were seeing now for the first time.
"How is it that he can run? That child can be no more than a few months old!" Boromir exclaimed.
"You have a good eye for babies, Boromir. He is a little precocious, but elflings start running when they are very young. He won't be physically mature until his early twenties and not adult in mind or emotion until he is fifty," Legolas explained, hugging the pretty, tiny arrival tenderly.
"Is he your son?" Boromir asked.
The look of regret that darkened Legolas's features for a moment made Boromir wish he had been more tactful. Aragorn had told him about the bi-gender royal line, as well as Legolas' s and Elrond' s union, but it was never safe to make assumptions.
"No, this is Orophin, my little half brother. He is named after his father's brother who perished at Helm's Deep," Legolas said, forcing a smile.
Boromir nodded to show he understood and that Aragorn had had time to fill him in on news during their journey home. The elf then added, "I hope to have children soon."
Aragorn hid his surprise. Elves had magnificent control over their bodies and usually a child transformed from intent to fact within weeks.
"Actually, now that you mention it, he does have a bit of Haldir in him," Boromir observed. He had never seen such an extraordinarily pretty, haughty and spoilt looking little baby.
The fur tunic and indoor trousers, along with the jewel studded baby booties, bracelet and necklace were probably worth two horses. And this was clearly casual wear. Boromir marvelled that Legolas had such practical tastes after growing up in Thranduil's household.
Aragorn held out his arms to the baby, hoping to steal a cuddle. Ori was irresistibly cute; and very much like a compressed Haldir, who had a strong appeal to the king.
Ori wriggled free of Legolas and waddled speedily towards the man. Then, he stopped and wrinkled his nose with a soft "urrrrh." He turned swiftly and clung to Legolas's boot, glaring disapprovingly at his new admirers.
"Oh no! I' m so sorry! He's only used to elves and you must smell different," Legolas said, embarrassed for his half brother.
Boromir laughed. "We're bathed and scented, Legolas! The Ring Quest must have been awful for you, I never realised how very keen your senses were!"
Ori giggled too, attracted to the infectious sound if not the smell.
"He's a little angel," Aragorn said.
Tiny Ori could not understand the Westron words, but he did understand the sentiment. He puffed out his stomach and blew out his cheeks, humming wordlessly with vain smugness. The following pout-smile made him even more adorable.
"Ai! Don't make him worse. Haldir spoils him absolutely rotten, and Father adores him," Legolas protested mildly, although he offered his half sibling one of his rare, exquisite smiles, touched with just a little longing. Would his children with Elrond have black or brown hair? Would they be as adorably fat?
Ori swung his head around to look at the door with a coo of delight, several moments before Elrond came quietly into the room.
"All still up? It's way past your bedtime," Elrond observed, smiling down at the little elf baby.
It took Aragorn a couple of seconds to realise that Elrond was not talking to him. It was such a comfort to be around the gentle half elf who had helped raise him again.
Ori just chortled and climbed again into Legolas' s lap, demonstrating how awake he was.
The healer noticed that Aragorn was looking at him thoughtfully, probably wanting to talk with him privately without offending his concerned dear friends by dismissing them from the room.
"Maybe we should go tuck the child in, Legolas," Boromir said rising gracefully. Elrond mentally commended the man's subtle tact; he seemed completely attuned to his king's needs.
Elrond had to remind himself again that Boromir had grown up a Steward's Son, used to command, and probably understood the body language of those around him with an almost subconscious accuracy. His political survival depended upon his ability to hone this skill, almost as much as it depended on his sure sword arm and eloquent speech.
The beautiful elf lord and Boromir left the room with Ori sniffing thoughtfully in the tall, well built man' s direction, as they shut the door behind them.
"Ha ha! I've pinched a fruit tart from the dessert tray. Would Ori want it you think? Children love sweets...Oi!" Boromir exclaimed.
It was the first time such a tiny foe (only five months in age) had gotten the better of the stalwart Man of Gondor. Before Boromir's fascinated eyes, Ori stuffed his mouth full with the tart and then reached out for more, chewing vigorously.
"I say, he isn't going to be ill is he? Can baby elves eat so much in one go?" Boromir asked, eyes wide, recalling how ill little two-year-old Faramir became after eating the treasure of sweet desserts his adventurous older brother brought back to the nursery after a midnight raid on the larder.
Legolas smiled sweetly at Boromir, his eyes dancing with merriment, "They can if Haldir is their father! Ori just loves his food. You should have taken the whole tray."
A few years later, Boromir would use this information to help win Ori's favour for his own son, the one the loyal Gondorian had no idea was about to be born.
Elrond pressed a hand to his chest to steady himself and nodded for Aragorn to get dressed after his examination of the king.
"It happens to some who make the crossing between realms. The condition is not inherent in your line," Elrond said.
"I thought as much," Aragorn said quietly, re-tying the cords that closed his trousers and pulling his tunic down. "Glorfindel always warned me never to attempt such a feat, even if my blood and heritage gave me the ability should I choose to use it, because this might happen."
The king swung his legs over the chair he had been reclining on for the examination, and sat up straight.
"He should know. He crossed between realms too. And Boromir?" Elrond asked.
"Boromir came back a whole man. I checked when we first came from the river, before we realised Rivendell was abandoned and started on our journey here," Aragorn flushed.
"Was he curious about your anatomy?" the healer asked cautiously, tactfully ignoring the human's embarrassment.
"No, I mean we hadn't had any contact during the three years...the nine months, whatever...I just told him it is a physical quirk of Isildur' s line," Aragorn explained.
Elrond thought of hyper-masculine warrior king Isildur, and smiled inwardly. Isildur would have thrown himself on his sword if he ever found himself bi-gender. Thankfully, Aragorn had always been more practical and less melodramatic than his predecessors.
"You won't ever bleed, but you know there is a chance for conception," Elrond, usually so eloquent, struggled for the words. "You will need to be careful, I can give you herbs, and if you want me to stitch you up, I can do that too. Thranduil' s father was sealed surgically."
"I think it may be too late," Aragorn said with his usual mildness. But the half elf was amazed at the pride and happiness in his voice.
Elrond was struck speechless. He had suspected, but did not know if Aragorn did as well.
"Gondor needs an heir. And I will never marry, after...Elrond, is this too hard for you to discuss?" Aragorn asked. "I forget, especially after this last journey that you are also her father. In my heart, you have always been my father. Please stop me if I am being hurtful or offensive in wishing to speak to you about this."
Elrond was moved and did not speak for long moments. Then, he smiled, "You can always come to me, Aragorn. Forgive me if your romance with Arwen made me so cold to you, that relationship never sat well with me, as you know. It pleases me greatly that you still look upon me as a parent. I will help you all I can in the coming months, but I must warn you that no bi-gender birth is ever easy."
"What good is ever easy in the winning?" Aragorn asked, quietly.
"I'm glad you feel that way about it," Elrond said. "We can ask Haldir to come up with a credible story about the child' s origins in the coming months, he' s marvellous in spreading rumours to best suit royal purposes, sort of subtle propaganda if you will. And he is well respected in Rohan since Helm's Deep and now Gondor, thanks to Eowyn, the Stewards wife.
"It must be a servant girl. No lady would go along with such an 'unnatural' scheme," Aragorn said.
"Would Gondor accept a prince from a low born mother?" Elrond asked.
"They would have to if I give them no choice," Aragorn said, just as softly, but with a hint of the steel with which he had won his throne and earned the friendships of the great men of the realm.
"Have you told Boromir?" Elrond asked, chiding himself for losing sight of so important a factor in his concerns to preserve Aragorn's image and reputation as king.
"No. Not yet. Not until I am sure the child will live. I hope it is a boy," Aragorn said.
"He is going to start to suspect something odd, Aragorn, sooner than that I think," Elrond cautioned.
"Then maybe in a few months, after he is settled again in Gondor. I shall bequeath him some lands and appoint him to Council. He is glad that Faramir is Steward, he will not want that post now," Aragorn said, with some anxiety. "Politics is not simple, is it Elrond? I want him to be happy. Sometimes I think it was selfishness as much as love that prompted me to bring him back."
"Maybe you can appoint him your heir's champion when he is born. That would please him greatly, I believe. And his crossing over would never have been successful if he did not want it as much as you did. There is precious little true royal blood in his veins, I suppose his successful return at your side was fuelled by his great will and love for you," Elrond said warmly. "You will find the right path. You always do. And now he is here to help you."
"Yes, it was worth all that suffering to have him home again, by my side. Perhaps this was what was always meant to be," Aragorn said with a grateful smile for Elrond's encouragement
"Yes, indeed. I think it is time that the Lords of Gondor return to the White City," Elrond said in his deep and majestic voice, as if proclaiming a prophecy that had come true at last.
And then, his eyes lighting with mischief, he added fondly, "All three of you!"
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