Hîr o Meril Thaifn [Lord of Rose Pillars]

Part Ten: Patched Hearts and Lonesome Spirits

From the journal of Gimli son of Gloín:
Víressë 30th, loa 39, Fourth Age
Annuminas, the Northern Palace of the Reunited Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor

Finally, everything is calm again. What a turmoil we have all been in! The Fellowship I mean. This has not dampened the festivities much yet we remaining members of the Nine are quite subdued and sombre.

I am not at all sure what to do about this. Often enough have I missed Gandalf and his counsel through the years, but never more than this day. Mahal, guide my actions, bestow wisdom to my thoughts and restraint to my tongue. Let me not say anything to make matters worse.

Lord Elladan has asked me to look after Legolas, saying he and his twin must away for Imladris soon and he will not join them. Legolas I mean. He must not return to Ithilien, according to the Peredhel, yet he cannot stay in Arnor either. Legolas refuses to journey with his brother to the Woodland Realm. That Wood Elf is too stubborn! I should have demanded he go to his people in Eryn Lasgalen but he is not himself and likely could not tolerate the strain of being in daily proximity to his father. I have grown mellow like sweet mead during these years of peace else I would have refused outright.

One of them should stay with him or another Elf, any Elf. I cannot give him what he needs. Elladan says otherwise, that what Legolas wants is a true friend. Are Elrond's sons not his friends? said I. To this remark the Elf Lord was silent a time, just staring at me, and then to my amaze he turned his head low in shame, saying they had not been as good friends should be, as I have been. Elladan got down on his knees and begged me to keep Legolas beside me! I was too shocked to refuse at the time, but now I wonder if I am up for it. Having Legolas as a hunting partner or a brother in arms is one thing, caring for him during this illness is another.

It all started at that blasted party. But nay, now that I think on it, the roots of this trouble must go back twenty years. It pains my heart to realise Legolas has been suffering all this time and said not one thing to me. Or to anyone else, apparently.

Bugger a Balrog why is he so secretive! I must get my thoughts in order if I am to be any help at all, and thus this journal entry will be lengthy indeed.

I have come to understand much of my unusual friend over the many years we have been comrades, and yet it is only today, just past the twentieth anniversary of the defeat of Sauron, that I have learned the truth behind his amiable, lighthearted flightiness so common to the younger elves.

Not that I could tell the difference at first between the Last Generation and the Ancient Ones; that required years of exposure to the tall, point-eared creatures along with Legolas' constant tutoring on names and histories. It is almost Hobbitish, his ability to recite the family pedigree of any silvan Elf we encounter and tell the stories of their folk through the Ages, right from the beginning of things at the Awakening to present days. At first, he would only tell me the tales of battles and strife, for he thought I might not appreciate the humour of some of the more whimsical anecdotes.

He was right. What is so funny about butterflies resting in Glorfindel's hair when he sleeps or Celeborn's addiction to sweet confections? What does it matter if Galion always wears gold on the third Tuesday of every sixth month? To a dwarf, there is nothing amusing in such foibles, they are merely eccentricities no doubt brought on by over indulgence in wine and merrymaking compounded by Ages of wars and affliction. Such concerns must wear upon the heart and mind, as I figure it, and their frivolous antics are necessary as a means of distraction. The magnitude of memory that must accompany such an existence as is granted unto elves is not lost upon my thoughts.

I did not expect Legolas to be any different than the rest of the breed. Maddening, I deemed it once, Legolas' habit of breaking into song for no good reason, saying the slant of the sun glinting on the water at dawn filled him with emotion too strong to contain within his heart. Ah! What a fool I have been, for today he looks as if he may never sing another tune and I am terrified.

And ashamed. How frequently I complained of and even mocked those times when he would state the need to 'observe nature' and wander off to sit among the branches of his beloved trees or lie amid the wild flowers blanketing a meadow, there to remain hours on end rapt in silent awe, appreciating the works of Yavanna. Equally common, he might simply say he had to go look upon a certain tree he had passed once a hundred years ago, to make sure it was all right, and walk off into the wilds, bow at his back and knife at his hip, to be seen no more for months on end. Was he suffering this even then? Is that what made him go away from his friends and kinfolk? Now I believe this is true. Stubborn, prideful Elf.

I thought nothing of this kind of behaviour; typical elvish nonsense, I would term it, shake my head, and go on about my work. My oh so important employment devoted to enriching my clan and beautifying our new home in Aglarond. I would still be hard at it when he wandered back into my life, wheedling me to leave off and follow him back to Ithilien or go for a visit to Minas Tirith. If I refused, often he would remain in Rohan, first to sulk and pout and bemoan my stubborn dedication. Next he would organise a grand party on some pretext or other (it is always somebody's Begetting Day Anniversary, so numerous are his relatives) and talk my kin into attending. He was always able to get on my cousins' good graces, mainly by buying lots of ale and mead with his father's gold, and before I could intervene a week-long celebration would be underway. So of course I would cease work and join in, letting the spoiled princeling have his way again.

Thus I expected Legolas to become practically giddy with delight over the prospect of a grand fête to mark the twenty years of peace, prosperity, and liberty suffusing the various regions of the world since Sauron's destruction. I fully anticipated some kind of bizarre aberrancy to mark his actions, would have bet money that the Wood Elf would not sleep once during the entire two weeks planned for the festivities, spending every minute dancing and singing and cavorting with his friends. Indeed, when he showed up at Aglarond with my invitation from Ellessar, playing the part of Royal Messenger, (which he thought was a 'grand joke on so many levels' for which an elvish understanding must be required for I still do not see how this is humorous) he was already in high spirits. We travelled together to Annuminas where the King and his entire family had established residence for a time, for the New Year was to be inaugurated at the northern palace.

The capital of the Northern Realm of Elessar never looked so magnificent! Of course, I and my people had a large part in the reconstruction, for the mighty city had been reduced to ruination by the numerous wars of the Third Age. Now she gleamed like a pearl and it seemed every parapet and tower, every window and doorway was festooned in banners and bedecked in the colours of the nations and peoples from across the lands of Arda. The humans were gathered in all their finery such that even the common folk looked noble and comely. There were delegates from the Shire and from Lindon, from Erin Lasgalen and Dale, from the Iron Mountains and Imladris. Even the Beornings attended and I seem to recall one old oak that looked suspiciously Entish. I meant to ask Legolas about it but never got around to that as events took a turning I did not foresee.

When we arrived, Ellessar and Lady Arwen stood within the courtyard of the palace greeting distinguished guests. How resplendent and regal they were, dressed in rich robes with bejewelled coronets upon their noble brows, yet the instant they spied me with the woodland fey in tow they threw protocol to the blazes and joined in the Elf's frolicsome antics with relish. In no time he had them singing and chasing amid the gardens like children, and I will forever cherish the joy within Eldarion's and the princesses' eyes, the astonished expressions frozen upon their faces to see their parents acting so carefree out in public. Merry and Pippin and Sam were already present along with their sizable families, and I had kinfolk along too. None of Legolas' relatives showed up in the first days but he assured me his elder brother and family planned to attend.

I thought Legolas would be shocked by the changes in his mortal friends, but if he was he hid it remarkably well. It did not fluster him to realise that Pippin and Merry were grandfathers and that Eldarion was a young man full grown, betrothed to be wed to a Lady, a princess from Belfalas. If he was sorrowed by greying hair and thickening waist-girths he never commented on it.

Of course there was a feast in the Great Hall where the Hobbits, Legolas and I were guests of honour, with a ball planned for afterward. That blasted archer could not keep to his seat nor did he eat more than a morsel during the banquet, forever arising and flitting around the room to speak with someone he either recognised or was curious to meet. I watched him, for there was something in his agitation that unsettled me, though I could not say what it was and attributed his restlessness to the heady wine and an empty stomach. The Hobbits noticed and set bets on the length of time he would sit before jumping up and traipsing off again.

Then I saw that Aragorn was watching him keenly also, and at last the King went to retrieve the roaming Elf during his latest foray from the main table. Elessar steered him back to the chair beside me, one hand on either shoulder, and plunked him firmly down. "Sit! They will be here, mellonen, fear not. They would not miss this celebration for it has been five years since last they visited Arwen and our children." He smiled warmly but Legolas was embarrassed for the scene drew a smattering of titters from the surrounding guests. Many realised who 'they' were, myself included, for the Queen's brothers had not yet arrived.

The Elf's face flushed and he got that stubborn tightening about his mouth and chin that so favoured his father. This is when Aragorn made a crucial error in judgement: he laughed and that encouraged the Hobbits to do the same. All but Pippin and his son Faramir. Now I look back, they knew something, had to have. Usually Pippin was first in whenever a jest on Legolas was pronounced. I wonder now if sometimes the Wood Elf sheltered in the Shire during his frequent wanderings.

"Do not sulk, princeling, for then you are too much Thranduil's petulant elfling and too little my courageous elven scout of old," quipped Aragorn and gave the Elf's shoulders a squeeze.

The good King realised his error immediately, for the gaze trained upon him from those clear blue eyes could have rendered granite into molten magma so hot was the temper behind it. Aragorn was never a man given to fear, yet he hastened back to his wife's side with greater speed than his regal station warranted.

As for Legolas, he said nothing, not even when Pippin tried to draw him out with a ridiculous story about how his little grandson Faramir II had adopted a warren of rabbits that invaded the vegetable garden, trying to make them into pets. The Elf did, however, become as pale as new cream and had to physically grab onto the edges of his seat with both hands in order to restrain himself from arising. He remained like that for the duration of the meal, rigidly perched in his chair, staring in seething silence into the candle light. When the dinner was ended and the guests adjourned to the ballroom, Legolas was not among the crowd. No one saw him the rest of the night, and while I was not pleased about it neither was I worried overly much.

The revelling went on long into the early hours of the morn and thus few among the mortals were up and about to see the sunrise. Even I was not and only the insistent rapping of knuckles on my door roused me from bed. My displeasure transformed to amazement when I beheld Eldarion on my threshold, wide-eyed and panicky, babbling about scandal and impropriety and shame upon his mother's name. I could make no sense of what the young Prince was trying to tell me and had all I could do to convince him to remain calm whilst I dressed so he could guide me to the scene of this 'travesty and affront to the nobility of Eärendil's House'. Why he had sought me out instead of another was made plain by his repeated mention of 'that Wood Elf' and 'your silvan friend', both descriptive phrases spoken in tones indicative of strong disfavour.

Now that was strange, for he had always got on well with Legolas and seemed to appreciate the woodland warrior's sprightly humour and boundless energy. Legolas visited Minas Tirith often and Eldarion had been apprenticed for archery instruction to Ithilien's elven ruler. Indeed, before the incident during the feast, the two had spent some time conversing as Arwen's eldest related several tales of recent doings in the King's court, for Legolas had been wandering again for many months prior to the invitation to the festivities. I held my questions back, however, waiting for my own assessment of this situation, as Eldarion led me through the castle and outside to the gardens surrounding the formal courtyard. We halted as he pointed, guiding my eye quite unnecessarily, for three elves were approaching slowly across the lawn: Elladan and Elrohir supporting Legolas between them.

"Nay, it was not thus that I came upon them," Eldarion was protesting loudly. "They were naked, the three of them, entangled together right here in the open. All of the guards saw what they were doing. This will be spread over the city by breakfast!"

"Be silent!" snarled Elladan, eyes flashing dangerously as he trained them upon his nephew. "Estel's guards have seen worse and know how to hold their tongues, unlike some present."

Indeed, the sight was not so terrible. It was clear enough the trio had but hastily thrown on their clothing for none wore shoes, their tunics were off and their shirts untied. The leggings at least were secure. In any other time I would have wondered at Eldarion's attitude, for one would imagine he was not unaware of the ways of elves, with half his ancestry arising among the First-born. And let me be frank, elves are not so different in this regard from other people. There are males and females among humans, dwarves, and Hobbits that likewise favour their own sex.

I had to surmise it was the youth's inexperience and perhaps an unexpected bodily response to the situation that made him so riled. Eldarion is but eighteen coronar's in age, and I think his elven heritage makes him mature less swiftly than other young men of his generation. That and the grandeur of the occasion and the numerous visitors from foreign lands, among which were his betrothed's family, mayhap made him so anxious over the elves' indiscreet use of the public grounds for trysting.

As for me, I had known Legolas and the twin Lords of Imladris were intimate since the time of the War, for they never left his side once the Grey Company joined us at the Paths of the Dead. I might have been relieved to see them together, for Legolas had clearly been longing for them the previous night. As it was, I found the sight disturbing for entirely different reasons. What was truly upsetting about the tableau was Legolas, for he was trembling and walked with his head low, clutching tightly to Elrohir as Elladan gripped him round the waist. In all the time I had known him, never had I beheld my friend in so stricken a condition and I was shocked speechless. When they were nearly abreast of us I found my voice at last. "Legolas! What ails you, lad?" I cried.

"Not so loud, Gimli," cautioned Elrohir kindly but firmly, for Legolas winced from the volume of my words. "It is the seasickness. We shall tend to him if you calm Eldarion."

"You must make our excuses to Aragorn and Arwen," Elladan added, "for we need to get him back to Imladris. He will do better there amid the trees than here for it is too near the Sea; he can hear it."

"Nay, not there, saes," Legolas' voice was barely audible but packed with panic nonetheless. Elladan placated him as they walked, promising not to make him go if he could not bear it.

"The seasickness? What is that to do with it? It is clear enough to me he is suffering from too much drink and wanton excess…" Eldarion's words were interrupted when Elladan wheeled on him and landed a stinging slap across his cheek.

"Do not dare to pass judgement on Legolas, Eldarion," he warned as the youth stepped back, hand against the bright red mark, eyes like an owl's they were so round. "What do you know of suffering, in any form?"

"Aye, apologise to our beloved," demanded Elrohir, equally outraged. "If you wish to make a grievance over this then make it to us, for we are the instigators of the affair."

Now I was not sure whether the Peredhel meant this particular incident or the trio's unusual on-and-off relationship as a whole. But Eldarion did not care about such subtleties and was made more angry by the challenge.

"So be it, for I do find you equally at fault. How could you shame Nana this way? She is your sister!" he shouted.

"Daro! Saes, alvaethol! (Stop! Please, no fighting!) Legolas cried out and I was alarmed to see him groan aloud and heave over, gripping his chest and struggling to breathe. Next he was retching on the grass, as vile and putrid a sputum as any I have ever been privy to, strongly smelling of sweet wine. He all but collapsed and indeed Elrohir swept him up into his arms and hastened his pace, carrying the moaning Elf toward the palace.

I was hurrying after, Eldarion at my heels, but Elladan leaped in our way and halted us. "Nay. We will tend to him. Legolas needs quiet rather than this abrasive attention. Gimli, if you will do as I ask we shall be in your debt. Gather his things and bring them along to our rooms, if you would be so kind. We are just down the hall from Aragorn's suite." He shot his nephew a deadly glare before speeding in his brother's trail.

I grabbed Eldarion before he could take another step. "Nay. We will honour your uncle's request. Let me add my own thoughts, young prince, for Legolas is my dear friend. How can you be so angry over this small indiscretion? It is obvious the Wood Elf is paying for whatever sin you think him guilty of committing. Would you ruin a friendship over such a paltry thing?"

"You don't understand! He is not supposed to be so…so base! He is supposed to be pure, above all that kind of…stuff…and here he is putting on a show for anyone who might wander by, letting the twins do those obscene things to his body and…enjoying it!" Eldarion was close to tears himself and that is what made me realise the real problem. The youth was red-faced, short of breath, unreasonably angry and uncharacteristically judgemental. How we all had missed it I know not, but Eldarion was smitten with the Elf, probably had been nursing this secret crush for months only to have all hopes dashed when he came upon his idol in the throes of passion with his uncles. That being the case I decided to just get right to the point.

"Eldarion, it is you who does not understand. Legolas is an Elf not a spirit. A grown, male Elf in his prime with needs both emotional and physical. Long have he and your uncles favoured each other with fulfilment of those very needs. There is nothing obscene about it, though their choice of location was admittedly poor. Why shouldn't he know pleasure with them if all three are willing? I think you are so angry because you were not the one engaged in giving those attentions he so enjoyed."

Now to my mind this was a very pretty speech for a dwarf. Legolas' influence, no doubt. My father would not have been so genteel with me if he had ever found me in a similar state of frustration and jealous outrage. He would have told me to stop making a fool of myself and take my troubles in hand, privately, until I found someone willing. 'No such thing as a flawless gem. Pick ye another for that one is already mounted and set.' So he would say to me. But Eldarion did not find my lecture enlightening for all its merit in well-chosen words.

His face got so dark a red I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel. He looked like he wanted to take a swing at me but was fighting the urge from fear, both for his safety and his self-respect I am certain. His grey eyes were all lit up with indignant affront and wounded pride, any trace of teary brightness driven out by having his secret discovered so easily.

"How dare you suggest such a thing! I have never desired to lie with another male. I am betrothed to the Princess Elmiriel and if you dare to repeat that vile slander I will have you charged with treasonous libel!"

I laughed aloud, I just could not help it. Treasonous libel! Me, Gimli son of Gloín son of Groin of the Iron Mountains, kinsman to Dain Ironfoot, accused a traitor to the land of Gondor! Me, one of the Nine, guilty of such a thing? It was beyond absurd and I secretly wished he would go running to his Adar and tell Aragorn the whole story. Before I could recover from my mirth and respond to this ridiculous threat, the prince was gone, making for the palace at a fast walk. I let him go, thinking to talk with Elessar later and chide him for permitting his son to develop such a wayward mouth. With the boy out of my beard I remembered the sorry state of my friend's health and set to do as the twins had bade me.

By the time I had gathered up the archer's few belongings and returned to the twin Lords' suite, a noisy congregation of Hobbits, Elves, and mortals was milling in the hallway outside the door. How the rumour has spread so quickly I don't know, but I suspect Eldarion's overexcited and voluble reaction was overheard by some of the palace staff. Legolas has always attracted a lot of notice and he can never escape from the wagging tongues of those with nothing better to do than gawk at him.

From within the chambers raised voices could be discerned: Aragorn's and Elladan's loudest. They were not arguing with one another, however, and I decided to enter in and find out how Legolas fared. If quiet was what he needed, this rabble would be painful to him and I intended to put a stop to it.

Inside I discovered Aragorn and Elladan contesting with Arwen and Elrohir and an Elf that I took to be Legolas' elder brother, for the resemblance was close. The King and the elder son of Elrond wanted to take the Wood Elf back to Imladris while Arwen and Elrohir thought Ithilien would be better. The archer's sibling demanded to return his younger brother to Eryn Lasgalen 'where he truly belongs'. None of them took any notice of me as I passed through to the inner chambers. There I found Legolas huddled on the bed, a pillow over his head and his arms wrapped tightly over it, rocking and whimpering in misery. At least they had put him into clean set of loose sleep-pants.

I was never more angry and once I set down my burdens I hurried back out to the scene of the contention and got Elladan's attention by yanking on his long black hair. Not saying a word, for I wished not to add my deep voice to the painful cacophony assaulting Legolas' sensitive ears, I merely pointed at his shut door, my face no doubt a fair example of the wrath boiling in my heart. They all fell silent and had enough conscience to look shamed. I then pointed to the outer door, and while this raised some mulish expressions and the threat of more vocal disagreement, particularly from Legolas' brother, Arwen sided with me and calmly shooed them out. Only Elrohir stayed and joined me back in the bedroom.

"Go and bid the servants prepare the bath," the Elf Lord bent down and whispered close to my ear. I made it so and met Elladan returning from the corridor. He and his brother tended Legolas and I kept guard before the entryway to their suite, turning away all who came to ask after the silvan prince. It was the next day before the door opened behind me and I was astounded to behold my friend looking much as he always did with only a hint of the troubles he had endured clouding his bright eyes. He offered me a smile, not the usual lighthearted one I so preferred but instead the subdued, cool one he had presented when first we met. It was not arrogant haughtiness that produced this expression, as I so long had believed, but rather insecurity and uncertainty. I was about to learn the true cause of Legolas' aloof demeanour during the early days of the Quest.

"Gimli my friend, will you walk with me? I have much I would say to you," said my elven brother-in-arms. Of course I agreed, but we strolled in silence for quite some time and indeed had left the walls of the city behind before Legolas would speak another word. At last he sighed and sat upon the ground beside a small tree, gazing at me ruefully where I stood waiting. "You know about the sea-longing, for I explained that when it first overtook me."

"Aye," I sat down in front of him and held his gaze, something I had learned to do years ago, smiling a little over the memory of all the old tales told to dwarflings about the mesmerising magic of elven eyes. Well, it was true in many ways, except there was no danger in Legolas' stare, only sadness and kindliness.

"It is true that I am beset by this curse of my people, yet that is but part of the problem. It is more a longing for someone across the Sundering Sea that overwhelms me these days. It is always so this time of the season, for the festivities mark the beginning of the Last Days before he left. I never regret my oath to Aragorn but sometimes it is difficult to bear it well. I never had the chance to let him know, you see. Lord Erestor sailed to Aman, ignorant of my feelings."

"Lord Erestor?" I could not hide my surprise and disbelief. I recalled this aristocratic statesman well; he had no use for anyone but his own people and even seemed to put himself above rubbing shoulders with any but a select few among those. At the Council of Elrond, he snubbed Legolas even worse than he did my kinsmen. At the wedding of Arwen to Aragorn, he managed to acknowledge the Wood Elf's contribution to the salvation of all of Arda but this with stiff formality. He showed open disdain when Elladan and Elrohir kept possessively close to Legolas throughout the celebration thereafter. Then, I thought he felt a Wood Elf undeserving of the twins' company and decided he must have known and disapproved the intimate relationship they shared.

"Yes. You were not expecting that. No one else knows except the twins. They knew from the start and tried to intercede for me, but Erestor had already heard about me from them. That is why they take it upon themselves to keep me near their hearts, for they told too much and it spoiled my chances with the noble elder."

"What does that mean, Legolas? Are you telling me Elladan and Elrohir relayed the intimacies of their relationship with you to Erestor?"

"That is a very nice way to say it!" Legolas laughed and clapped me on the shoulder warmly. "They were very eager to reveal they had been the first to lay claim to my body. Apparently, under the influence of too much wine, they made it a grand story told in the Hall of Fire. I am sure they also wanted to tell the tale first, fearing reprisals from their father once my father complained of their behaviour while in his home.

"I am much younger than they, you see, and was not exactly of age then. In addition, I was always a bit coddled and spoiled for being youngest of my siblings and they thought Adaren would demand restitution. They did not know Thranduil was too shamed to ever publicise what he had witnessed. So, they cast me as the wanton to protect themselves, never thinking I would arrive in Imladris to learn of their slanders, much less fall madly for their stern Noldo kinsman."

Durin's Beard! I never realised until this moment the implications of these words! 'Thranduil was too shamed to ever publicise what he had witnessed.' The King must have caught them in the act. Ah, this makes the father's estrangement more comprehensible, though still deplorable in my view. Nay, let me continue while this is still fresh, for my initial reaction to Legolas' explanation focused on Elladan and Elrohir instead.

"Why those uncouth, ill-mannered, selfish sons of wargs! I will take my axe to certain sensitive regions of their anatomy! I will cut them down to size and…"

"Nay, nay! Do not punish them, Gimli, for they have spent all the years since doing that themselves. They really care about me, you see, and it is hard for them to own up to this hurt they caused. Elrohir did all he could to make Erestor stay, even mentioning I would remain and saying I might need help establishing the colony in Ithilien. It did not work of course, and he was gone before I worked up the courage to approach him."

"But why Erestor? I thought you loved the twins? Why, that Elf is not worthy of your affections if he spurned you even after Elladan and Elrohir admitted their lies."

"I made them swear they would not reveal my feelings. Of course I love Elladan and Elrohir; they were my first loves and I will never close them off from my heart. It is very complicated, for I am also still angry with them while they are jealous that I wish to give my love to another besides them. Yet they are complete within themselves and just keep me close from guilt and pity. It is strange, for I need them though I wish I did not; I love them dearly yet long for another and it is they who have come between me and my heart's desire.

"You see, I wanted to win Erestor's love rather than just warm his bed. It was my hope that my part in the Quest would enable him to see past the lurid tales the twins had told. Even so, he merely spoke to me civilly at the wedding. He smiled, too, but in his eyes I could see how low he found me still. That was the first time I broke down. I knew he would never love me and it just destroyed me. I am deluged with grief, Gimli, for my heart is broken. If not for Elladan and Elrohir's unfailing devotion, I would have faded from it by now. So you see, any anger I harbour for them is balanced by gratitude, for without them I would have failed in my vow to Aragorn."

I was dismayed to hear this speech, for it was plain that Legolas was terribly confused and in too much pain to sort everything out. I could not help reflecting that Elladan and Elrohir had not done much to help him comprehend things where they were concerned. I did not much like the idea of them using his sorrow to maintain access to his body, for I was more certain than ever that Legolas had never been with other lovers. They were indeed jealously protecting their exclusivity and I believed they would not be so eager to aid my friend to find real peace if it meant losing that unique connection.

Mayhap I am too cynical.

What else we said that day I do not recall so clearly. I know I attempted to console my friend and offered whatever help I might provide. I must have tried to convince him to be open with Aragorn, for I was sure the King would not hold our comrade to an oath that generated such terrible suffering. Legolas made me swear never to share the confidences he had given me, however, and as his friend I was bound to abide by his wishes. It was plain enough he did not want anyone else privy to his heart's sorrows.

The upshot of all we discussed amounted to his request to journey with me back to Aglarond. He wishes to remain a time in Fangorn where none will pressure him and he can give vent to his grief in privacy without alarming friends and kin folk. As I noted already, Legolas tends to wander off alone for months without giving anyone notice, yet now that he has had so severe a spell of grieving he is unlikely to enjoy that freedom. My part is to hide his true whereabouts should anyone come looking for him, even the twins.

Of course I agreed, yet I did not like the part about keeping secrets from his family and friends. Thus my dilemma, I am truly worried for Legolas. What if he worsens yet I am not wise enough to understand it? If the twins are the ones he relies upon, how can it be good to keep them unaware of his location? And now Elladan has pleaded with me to watch over Legolas, seeking to make me a spy, informing on his comings and goings. I am torn between loyalty to my friend and fear for his welfare. The Wood Elf will not easily forgive me if I betray his trust, yet I could never forgive myself if he succumbs to fading alone in Fangorn Forest.

Erestor closed the battered old book carefully, tying the leather cover shut again, an aching, wrenching void filling the space where his spirit normally rested easily within his heart. Now it felt as if his feä had become sorely bruised, just like the old diary's cover. He knew he should not have taken the dwarf's journal and read from it, for it was almost a talisman for Legolas, but the archer had remained holed up in his rooms ever since their encounter on the porch, indeed was still in the bathing chamber, and Erestor was desperate to find any means of making things right between them. He had tried to go to Legolas mere minutes after the ailing archer's hasty retreat only to be blocked by Galion and Mithrandir. Those two had arrived on the scene so quickly the elder Elf was sure they had been inside the study, watching the coupling from start to finish.

He was furious and accused them of that very thing but they would not answer him, giving him such cold looks that he withdrew to his own rooms on the third floor. Erestor tried to keep his anger burning. How could Legolas think to speak of love when they had only really met a couple of days ago? Attraction and desire were one thing and these he could admit to easily. He could even say he felt warmly for the young silvan Elf, a desire to grow closer than friendship, but that was not the same as declaring love. Yet Legolas had meant those softly whispered wistful words, the Lord of Meril Thaifn was sure of it, and that realisation doused his wrath completely. Desperate to understand something of this impetuous Elf's mind, Erestor had recalled the diary and the archer's remark about Gimli's entries mostly pertaining to him.

Rationalising away the impropriety and breach of trust, Erestor fished the journal out of Legolas' pack and started reading where the book fell open of its own accord. Reasoning that this must be a passage the silvan referred to often, the Elf Lord hoped to find some key to understanding what was motivating Legolas. Oh, I comprehend it now and the truth is devastating. To realise he had been the cause of such terrible hurt to Legolas for so many long years was unbearable. And I have just heaped on more pain. No wonder he is avoiding me. Somehow I must correct this dreadful impasse. He believes I have rejected his heart.

Erestor was not any closer to knowing what to do, however, and was about to try another passage from the book when a brisk rapping on his door startled him. Hoping it was Mithrandir come to fetch him down to Legolas, the vintner bounded from his bed and flung the portal wide.

"What are you two doing here?" Erestor demanded in supreme disappointment. There stood Elladan and Elrohir upon his threshold. "Did you not leave only an hour or so ago?"

"Oh no, we are not going to be put off, Erestor. We just came from Legolas' rooms and Galion will not let us in," barked Elrohir in sharply menacing tones.

"What have you done to upset him?" Elladan added, leaning forward and jabbing his forefinger against his former tutor's sternum. The older twin's eyes grew huge the next instant and he leaned even closer, breathing in a deep lungful of the air surrounding Erestor. The scent of Legolas clung to the elder Noldo thickly and well did Elladan know the distinct aroma of the Wood Elf's passion. Indeed, there was still a slight smear of the rich ejaculate painting Erestor's side. With a started cry Elladan staggered back, turning and racing back down the stairs towards Legolas' rooms, calling for him in desperation as he ran.

"You absolute cad," growled Elrohir, having realised exactly the same thing at exactly the same instant as his brother. He shoved Erestor hard and following his stumbling form into the room. "Could you not do as we asked and wait? Not even a day, Erestor? Valar, Legolas is a wreck, how could you?' he was shouting and every time Erestor straightened up Elrohir shoved him hard again until at last the former seneschal fell back upon the sofa by the hearth. "And he is upset, so something went wrong. He has been waiting for that moment, dreaming about being with you, loving you and being loved in return for more years than I like to think on. What did you do to spoil it for him, you craven dog?"

"It was not my intention to do him any harm, Elrohir, and I regret it terribly," Erestor insisted. "You must assist me; Legolas refuses to see me. I need to make him understand."

"Understand what, ion?" demanded a stern voice from the hallway. There stood Dammand glaring in baleful disappointment at his dear son. He walked in and shut the door behind him. "I have learned from Tulus that our young guest is refusing to open the door even for his old nanny."

"He has been with Legolas, intimately, and hurt him; body, soul, heart or all three I know not. Our True-bow will not even let us in to learn of it," relayed Elrohir in evident disgust, pointing down in accusation at his father's kinsman.

"Nay, I never meant to hurt him; you are not listening! It was a misunderstanding! I was just taken by surprise and would gladly make it right if I could gain access to Thranduilion."

"You have had quite enough access, I should think!" shouted Elrohir, bending over his former tutor in menace.

"Enough, Peace!" exhorted Dammand, cautiously touching Elrohir's shoulder to divert his attention. "I know well that you cherish him, Lord Elrohir, but that does not mean you are the only one to do so. Let us discuss this calmly and learn if some solution may be reached which helps our friend."

Elrohir stared at the ancient warrior in silence for a long moment, eyes blazing in both anguish and anger, for Dammand was correct. He did love Legolas dearly and to realise he was no longer the twins' alone wounded Elrohir's heart. He had known of the archer's infatuation with the Lord of Meril Thaifn, but had come to feel it was a fantasy that would never be realised. Indeed, he had hoped the secret desire would never come to more than that, a wishful yearning that had worked to enhance their lovemaking over the years. Now it was clear: he would never truly hold any more of Legolas' heart than he had already been given, and the Peredhel Lord was acutely jealous. With that internal admission came a blinding visualisation of his selfishness and crude possessiveness. He ought to be thinking of what was best for Legolas, and Legolas wanted Erestor. Elrohir sighed, sending all this conflicting emotion his brother's way as well, and bowed his head low.

"You are both wise and compassionate, Lord Dammand," he said. "I will do whatever serves Legolas' heart."

"Well said, young Elrondion, but call me not 'Lord' for I am but an old soldier among the rank and file of those who perished at Gondolin. Now, let us see what we can discover about this unpleasant dilemma."

They both sat, Dammand next to Erestor and Elrohir in a chair beside them, and listened patiently as Erestor explained his error in judgement and his involuntary reaction to his youthful lover's heartfelt admission.

TBC.