Mending a Heart and the Tie that Binds

A/N: For many book fans, the debate about Glorfindel and the fact that there are (possibly – depending on your point of view) two elves with this name are hotly debated. Some argue that the two Glorfindels are the same character while others believe that Tolkien created two separate characters. In all honesty, I have not taken a side on this debate. However, the idea of Glorfindel arisen from the dead intrigues me. So, I have decided to adopt this idea for the purpose of my story. Enjoy! :o)


Chapter 11: Swordplay


The king ushered his sons into a meeting room in the Mirkwood guesthouse, glaring at them unmercifully. His mud-splattered tunic was a harsh reminder of his sons’ folly. “Of all the ostentatious, impetuous and unforgiving behavior… and in the presence of three of the most noble elves I know!” Thranduil shouted, rounding on his creslen len children. “I am so angry that I want to send all of you back to Mirkwood.”

“But, Father…” Makail began.

“I do not recall saying that you were allowed to speak, Makail,” Thranduil snapped. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut. You are in the most danger of being sent home. Do you realize that you have angered me twice since we have been here? This is your last chance, Second Born. If you fail me again, you will be sent home. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, Father,” Makail said, looking at the floor.

“I have already decided on your punishment.”

The room was silent.

“You will not be allowed to attend the opening ceremony this afternoon.”

Legolas, Makail and Dace exchanged defeated looks but remained silent.

“Obviously, I cannot trust you to act like the Mirkwood princes that I raised,” Thranduil continued, “and I simply refuse for you to make a mockery of our realm.”

“But… but Father,” Dace said softly. “Tialise and I were supposed to attend the opening ceremony together today. If I am not there, she is sure to think that I abandoned her.

The king folded his arms across his chest and stared at his son angrily. “It amazes me that you could concern yourself with something so foolish, Dace. You are in the most trouble, since you are the one who hit me with a ball of mud!”

Dace cowered.

“Methinks this… this Tialise is too young for you. She is a bad influence… she is a child and you are behaving like one, so I can only assume that your recent foolery is a result of her infantile sway. You will not go to the opening ceremony and you will not speak to Tialise this day. The only thing you will attend to is my tunic, which needs to be cleaned!”

“Aye, Father,” Dace said quietly.

“And you,” the king said, turning his attention to Legolas, “I have no doubt as to who the source of this madness was. It had to be the foolish man-elf who you are to wed. I can honestly say that Elladan’s immaturity is inexcusable. For all of his years, he behaves like a child.”

Legolas wanted to defend Elladan; he wanted to say something, but the anger in his father’s eyes silenced him. He knew that anything he could say would only make matters worse.

“I am so disappointed in all of you. You have disgraced, not only me, but our realm.”

The king’s words cut deep. To let their father down was a terrible feeling. Despite his firmness, the princes lovheirheir father.

“You are to remain here, in the Mirkwood guest house, for the duration of the day. Your punishment is over at dawn,” Thranduil said. Shaking his head, he left the meeting hall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The king of Mirkwood entered Elrond’s assembly room looking more than a bit cross and more beautiful than ever. Elrond gasped softly but tried to maintain his composure in front of Thranduil. It was obvious that the king had just taken a bath; he was practically glistening. Thranduil was wearing a handsome, deep blue colored tunic that was outfitted with ornate embroidery of the same color. His sable leggings clung to his legs, outlining his sheer godlike physique.

Elrond marveled at the style of the king’s hair. It looked damp and was woven into a single plait. The golden rays of the sun flooded into the large room enhancing the ecru highlights in Thranduil’s hair. Loose tresses framed the king’s face, making him look especially comely. His cheeks were suffused in a deep red color and his eyes did not possess the arrogant glint that was characteristic of the king.

“Have you seen Celeborn?” Thranduil asked, interrupting Elrond’s thoughts.

“Nay,” Elrond replied, tearing his eyes away from the king’s heavenly form, and trying not to let his eyes wander back to those muscular legs.

“I went to the Lórien guest house, but no one waere,ere,” Thranduil continued.

“Aye. Celeborn and his charges went into the forest. They are preparing for the opening ceremony,” Elrond explained.

“Oh,” Thranduil said, sighing.

“What ails you, Thranduil?” Elrond asked.

“My sons,” Thranduil said, shaking his head.

“Ah,” Elrond said, nodding his head slowly. “I assume that they were harshly punished.”

“Not harshly enough for my liking,” Thranduil said. He paused for a moment but continued speaking when he saw the curious look in El’s e’s eyes. “I only forbade them from attending the opening ceremony and all of the festivities this day.”

“And you do not think that is harsh?” Elrond asked, arching one of his delicate brown eyebrows.

Thranduil felt a surge of desire spread through his body, like the rays of the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. Pushing his lust aside, he spoke. “I could have sent them home. It would a be more fitting punishment for their horrific behavior.”

“Oh, come now,” Elrond said gently. “They did no harm. They are callow; the cares of this world are kept at bay by their youth. Do not be angry with them for jesting.”

“You do not understand,” Thranduil began.

“But I do,” Elrond interrupted. “You seek to prepare your sons for a throne that will never be theirs. You will live forever, King of the Emerald Realm. I understand your desire to mold them. But to so harshly admonish them… that I do not understand. Your sons are the epitome of royalty and goodness. You should be proud.”

“I am proud… and I love my sons,” Thranduil said. “But our realm is unlike Lórien and Rivendell. Mirkwood has been alone for long years. I know that the alienation of Mirkwood was my own doing but times in the Emerald realm have been hard. The orcs grow bolder every day and seem to attack us at will. I may not live forever, Elrond. My sons must be ready to claim lordship over Mirkwood if I fall. The cares of this world will be kept at bay no longer if I should die.”

Elrond furrowed his brow. “But Joren is the crown prince. The reign of Mirkwood will fall to him if something happens to you. Makail, Dace and Legolas do not have his burden.”

“But they do,” Thranduil corrected. “It is why Areen and I decided to have four children. I was an only child… forced to bear the full burden of royalty.n myn my father died… I did not know who to trust. I didn’t know who should stand at my right and who should attend my left. My wife was my most trusted companion and my childhood friend, Goel, served me well… but others failed me. It was only through miserable trial and error that I was able to reform my kingdom, as nearly the entire royal house perished in battle when my father fell. I was ill equipped, but my sons will not be. Joren will have his brothers; they will help him to rule. Should something happen to me, he will not have to wonder whom to trust. He will have Makail, his right, and Dace, his left, and Legolas, at his back. They will be quite a force to contend with. And yet, after all I have done… I have somehow failed them. They pretend to be royal warriors… yet I find them throwing mud like children!”

“Even the most noble of warriors needs to laugh” Elrond said, walking toward the king. “Laughter will keep their hearts from growing cold. For all of the strength of elves, we still need happiness to warm our souls.”

“Perhaps,”anduanduil said. “But they can jest in a civilized manner; they do not have to behave like animals. I have raised them better than this! And for Celeborn to see… I am so ashamed. We have only just created an alliance with Lothlórien, and I would hate to see it fail. I consider you to be my friend… I do not think that you would judge Mirkwood as harshly as the Lord of Lórien, who hardly knows me. That is why I was looking for him. I wanted to apologize for my sons. I hope his view of Mirkwood has not been tainted.”

“I am certain that it has not been,” Elrond said, smiling. “Do not forget who his grandsons are.”

“How could I?” Thranduil said a bit coolly.

Elrond ignored the king’s comment and grinned. “So, civilized jesting is acceptable then?”

“I suppose,” Thranduil said slowly. “Why?”

“Because you could use a good jest… it would seem,” Elrond said a bit slyly. “And you could also use the practice.”

“Practice?” Thranduil said, furrowing his brow.

“Aye,” Elrond said, smiling. “I thought that it was quite clever of you to suggest that the competition be limited to the younger elves… and that we rulers are judges. You wanted to save yourself from embarrassment. It is just as well; I would have utterly humiliated you in front of all the realms.”

Thranduil’s mouth fell open, alronlrond felt the bulge in his leggings harden. The king’s mouth was without flaw, and Elrond couldn’t help but wonder what that perfect tongue could do to him.

“I… I have never heard you speak this way, Elrond,” Thranduil stammered. “What has come over you?”

Elrond paused for a moment and asked himself the same question and shrugged. “You do not know me as well as you think you do. I may be a healer and a lord but I was a warrior long before my title. And if my memory serves me correctly, I believe that kings… particularly elvish kings, do not like to dirty their delicate hands.”

Thranduil scoffed. “You are quite mistaken, Elrond,” he said, walking toward the lord of Rivendell. “I suggested that we elder elves judge the competition because we would utterly destroy the younger elves’ chances for victory. We have fought in many battles. Our skill outweighs our youthful counterparts by thousands of years; there would be no competition. **I** would win every contest and then the fun would end.”

“**You** would win every contest?” Elrond asked.

“Aye,” Thranduil said, smiling deviously. “You see, unlike you, I was trained by the best, so that I could be the best. I am superb at everything. I can speak Quenya, Sindarin and the common tongue. I can play the lute. I have been formally trained in more than twenty kinds of dances. I can sculpt and carve wood, as well as wield a sword, a knife and a bow. I am a negotiator. And, if you must know,” Thranduil said, moving very close to Elrond, “I have even been trained in the art of intimacy. What say you to that?”

Elrond smiled. “It is with a heavy heart that you would lose to me, then. I am sure that the disappointment of losing would be quite devastating, but with all of your **many** accomplishments, I am certain that your rather inflated opinion of yourself will heal… eventually.”

Thranduil laughed. “It sounds as though you are trying to challenge me.”

“I am not **trying** to challenge you, Thranduil,” Elrond said, meeting the king’s eyes. “I **am** challenging you.”

Thranduil raised both of his eyebrows for a moment and then smiled. “Very well. What do you have in mind?”

Elrond walked over to the easternmost corner of the room and picked up an elegant sword that was lying across a long marble table. Holding the sword in front of him, Elrond smiled.

Thranduil did not speak. Instead, he grasped a sword that had been placed on a table on the opposite side of the room. Picking it up, he twirled the sword easily, showing off his superb form and superior manner.

Elrond gasped softly. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t think it was possible for Thranduil to look even more beautiful than he had earlier, but as always that king had outdone himself. With a sword in his hand, Thranduil looked the part of a deadly warrior and Elrond now wondered if he could defeat him.

“Are you frightened, Elrond?” Thranduil asked smugly.

“Only of your reaction when you lose,” Elrond said, quickly regaining his composure.

The king grinned.

Elrond saw the familiar expression return to Thranduil’s eyes.

Holding out his sword, the king stared at Elrond haughtily. “Let us begin.”

Elrond struck out at the king at once, their weapons connecting with a loud clanging sound. The swordplay had begun.

Just as Elrond suspected, Thranduil was a worthy opponent. His form was as beauteous as he was, fluid… nearly perfect. However, he was no fool. He had studied swordsmanship for thousands of years and was able to counter the king’s attacks.

Thranduil realized that he had underestimated the lord of Rivendell. Elrond was quite skilled. He allowed his eyes to quickly glance at the way Elrond grasped his sword and felt a surge of arousal take hold. The king wished that Elrond would hold **his** sword that way.

Thranduil’s momentary distraction gave Elrond the advantage he had been waiting for. Without warning, he altered his strategy and almost knocked the sword from the king’s hands.

Thranduil responded quickly and clumsily, breaking his form for a moment. Regaining his composure, the swords met in mid air again, clashing loudly. Thranduil smiled wickedly. “You are quite skilled for a mere Rivendell elf.”

“You are not the only one who is good at everything.”

“Apparently not,” the king said. “You are not the docile lord that you pretend to be.”

“Docile?” Elrond said as their swords met again.

“Aye, docile,” Thranduil said, smirking. “You reminded me of one of those little deer… you know, the ones with the white spots on their flank.”

Elrond scoffed. He changed his strategy and began fighting more fiercely.

The king laughed. “You might as well give up. I could win this fight in only a moment’s time.”

“Indeed?” Elrond asked as their swords met in the air once again. “I do not believe you. You are only saying that tay may my confidence, but it will not work.”

“I am not trying to sway your confidence. It is just that I can plainly see your weakness,” Thranduil said simply.

Elrond tried not to react to what the king had just said. “What do you mean?” he asked casually.

“You have a tendency to drop your right shoulder, and it is interfering with your form,” Thranduil explained.

Elrond felt his heart sink. Dropping his shoulder had always been a failing in his swordsmanship. His mentor, Gil-galad, had always tried to rid him of this habit, but to no avail.

“Your defeat will be swift, I promise you. Then we can go and eat. I am suddenly famished,” Thranduil said, preparing to stage his final attack.

Elrond had decided that he was not going to lose. He waited for the king to strike. Thranduil lunged forward suddenly, but Elrond was ready. Acting quickly, the lord of Rivendell stepped aside and used his sword to cut down a window veil that was next to t Thr Thranduil hesitated for only a moment, but it was just enough time for Elrond to clip the king’s right arm, which caused Thranduil’s sword to fall to the floor. Elrond smiled victoriously.

“You cheated!” Thranduil exclaimed.

“I did not,” Elrond said, grinning. “All is fair in war.”

“This isn’t a war… it’s… it’s civilized swordplay!”

“Nonetheless, you lost,” Elrond said.

Thranduil shook his head and smiled. “You knew I was going to defeat you, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” Elrond admitted. “Can you honestly blame me for resorting to foolery to win?”

“Nay,” Thranduil said, smiling. “But now I see where Elladan gets his foolery from.”

Elrond chuckled.

“You know, you could have disarmed me without trying to take off my arm.”

“What?” Elrond asked, looking at the king curiously. And then he saw it – bright red blood was dripping on the floor and Thranduil was cradling his wounded arm. “Did I do that?” Elrond asked, walking toward the king.

“Aye,” Thranduil said. “It is only a flesh wound. I will be fine.”

“Nay,” Elrond said. “Let me look at it.”

“It is fine,” Thranduil protested.

“No it is not,” Elrond said. Carefully, he grasped Thranduil’s right hand and peeled back the bloody sleeve. He revealed a gash that extended from the king’s wrist and midway up his forearm. Luckily, the wound was not deep. “I need to clean and wrap your injury. The wound is shallow, so it will be healed by tomorrow morn. Come with me to the healing chamber. I will tend your wound there.”

Thranduil nodded slowly but was unable to speak. He loved the way that Elrond was examining his arm and silently cursed when the lord turned to leave.

Elrond led Thranduil to the healing room and asked him to sit on a type of examination table. He prepared a poultice quickly and brought the herbs, a small bowl of water, a cleaning cloth and some bandages to a nearby table. Dipping the cloth into the water, Elrond approached the king. “Would you raise your sleeve?”

Thranduil obeyed, watching Elrond carefully.

The lord of Rivendell wiped the blood from Thranduil’s arm, being very careful not to any any pressure on the wound. He felt very guilty for injuring Thranduil.

The king, on the other hand, was becoming more and more aroused every moment. He could hardly breathe. Elrond was standing so close tthe the king could almost taste him… and he wanted to. He watched Elrond’s very capable hands and wondered if the lord was always so gentle.

Elrond cleaned Thranduil’s arm longer than he should have, but couldn’t help the way he was feeling. He felt badly about hurting the king, but to be so close to an elf as handsome as Thranduil was very arousing. He looked at the king’s perfect handd ard arms and wondered how it would feel to be touched by Thranduil. “I… I… I am going to apply the poultice now,” Elrond stammered, hoping that the wickedness of his thoughts were not evident.

Thranduil nodded, knowing that if he chose to speak that he would say something unintelligible and then mount Elrond like a steed.

Elrond put a small amount of the dressing on a bandage, spreading it gently with his fingers. He then, placed the bandage on the king’s arm and began to wrap gently. Trying to maintain his composure, Elrond finally spoke. “I am sorry for hurting you.”

Thranduil didn’t speak for a few moments. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and felt his member harden. Using every inner resource he had as a king he responded simply. “It was ccidccident. You do not need to apologize.”

“Yes I do,” Elrond disagreed. “What I did was wrong… and now you are suffering because of me.”

“I am not suffering,” Thranduil said firmly, shifting his tunic nonchalantly and hoping that Elrond couldn’t see his throbbing member.

“But still,” Elrond said, “I cheated. And now you are…”

Thranduil placed one of his left fingers on Elrond’s mouth. “Say no more,” he whispered.

Elrond gasped and released the king’s bandaged arm.

Thranduil stared at Elrond’s perfect mouth and then found himself moving toward the lord slowly. He tried to stop himself, but his bodily urges seemed to usurp his brain. Thranduil moved his finger only a moment before their lips met.

Elrond moaned when he felt the softness and he warmth of Thranduil’s mouth. And the intensity of the kiss traveled down his spine and ts tos toes.

Thranduil no longer had control. He was overcome with joy when he heard Elrond moan and wanted nothing more than to hear that sound over and over again. He placed his hands on the lord’s waist, never breaking the kiss, pulling him closer. Thranduil, sucked tenderly on Elrond’s lower lip, moving his hands slowly up the lord’s back.

Elrond could not resist. He submitted completely to Thranduil, relishing ever moment of pleasure that he was feeling. His body was on fire, his skin burned with desire. He longed for Thranduil to caress him, to touch his skin.

As if by intuition, Thranduil’s fingers found their way to Elrond’s neck. He stroked it gently as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to slide his tongue into the lord’s mouth, but Elrond hadn’t yet yielded that treasure to him. Thranduil knew what to do. He found the lord’s left earlobe and began to caress it gently. Moving his fingers upward, the king found the tip of Elrond’s ear and stroked it lazily. Elrond moaned again and Thranduil allowed his tongue to slide in between the lord’s pa lip lips. Waves of pleasure spread through the king’s body as the two rulers explored one another’s mouths hungrily.

Elrond grasped Thranduil’s waist, and nearly pulled him off of the exam table, just to bring him closer.

Thranduil pressed his chest against Elrond’s, wishing that their clothing wasn’t between them. He wanted to feel Elrond’s naked body against him; he wanted to make Elrond scream with pleasure.

Elrond stroked Thranduil’s si fla flaxen hair. He silently begged the Valar not to let this moment end, but his wish was a foolish one, as it ended only a moment later. “Glorfindel!” Elrond said, pulling away from Thranduil abruptly.

The king stared at Glorfindel in shock and wondered why he hadn’t sensed the marchwarden approaching. He looked at Elrond for an explanation, but Elrond was red-faced and avoiding his eyes.

“Begging your pardon,” Glorfindel said, bowing.

“I… I was just tending to Thranduil’s wound. I… I accidentally injured him during swordplay.”

Glorfindel nodded and met the king’s eyes for a moment before looking at Elrond. “I apologize for the… the interruption, but some of the servants are looking for you. They have questions about today’s festivities and seek your counsel.”

“Yes… I… I will go and meet with them at once,” Elrond stammered. “I will take my leave now. I… I will speak with you both later.”

“Aye,” Glorfindel said, bowing.

“Goodbye, Elrond,” Thranduil said. He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice but failed miserably. He watched in sie ase as Elrond left the room.

“Well, well, well,” Glorfindel said, placing his hands on his hips and turning to face the king. “It would seem that Haldir isn’t the only pup who is smitten.”

Thranduil arched one eyebrow and smiled. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Ah, you are pretending to be innocent, are you?” Glorfindel asked, smirking. “Well, I can assure you that your effort will be wasted on me.”

Thranduil remained silent.

“Now tell me, how did you get injured?”

“Elrond challenged me to a swordfight. I accepted his challenge. He realized that I was a better competitor so he cheated when he disarmed me. Unfortunately, I was injured.”

“Luckily, you were not offended. It would seem that Elrond’s… bedside manner made up for his error. I have suspected for some time now that the two of you may have a bond that extends beyond friendship.”

Thranduil shrugged and then looked at Glorfindel curiously, quickly changing the subject. “How is it that you were able to sneak in on us? We should have sensed you, long before you entered.”

Glorfindel nodded slowly. “That is true. However, considering the state that you and Elrond were in… it is doubtful that you would have perceived anything.”

Thranduil’s face reddened slightly.

“In all honesty, I am not like most elves,” Glorfindel explained. “I am older than most who still remain in Middle-earth and… I have passed through fire and shadow.”

Thranduil stared at Glorfindel in shock. “You… you died?”

“Aye,” Glorfindel said. “I was killed by a Balrog long years ago. I wandered the Halls of Waiting before the Valar saw fit to re-embody me. Since my return, I am different. Often, I can pass through the world unnoticed, like the shadow I once was. It is the reason that you did not sense me. In an odd way, I am still dead.”

Thranduil pondered Glorfindel’s words for a few moments but did not speak.

“So, Elrond defeated you?” Glorfindel asked.

“He cheated,” Thranduil said, suddenly thinking longingly about the lord of Rivendell. Looking in Glorfindel’s amused eyes and realizing that he must look like a lovesick child, brought the king back to reality. “It is a pity… if the lord of this realm must cheat so he won’t be beaten. It would seem that my warriors have nothing to worry about.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Indeed?” He picked up Elrond’s sword off of the floor. “Why not try to defeat me?”

Thranduil stared at Glorfindel in dismay.

“If you are as good as you say, then you have nothing to lose,” Glorfindel stated.

“You are right,” Thranduil said with confidence, walking across the room and picking up the sword off of the floor. The king turned around and faced a very unsure looking Glorfindel. “Do not fear; your defeat will be swift.” Thranduil bowed at his competitor and lunged forward abruptly. He heard his sword fall to the floor with a loud thud. He didn’t know what had happened and looked at Glorfindel in shock.

The marchwarden smiled. “That is what Elrond was trying to do,” he said grinning. “I only did it quicker.”

“How… how did you…” Thranduil stammered in disbelief. He could not believe that Glorfindel had disarmed him in only a moment’s time.

Glorfindel placed his sword on a long table and turned to face the dumbfounded king.

“How… it is not possible that you could defeat me so quickly,” Thranduil continued.

“Of course it is,” Glorfindel said.

Thranduil shook his head and stared at Glorfindel in dismay. “How?”

“I have lived for a very long time. I am even older than Celeborn and Galadriel. I had fought in many battles, thousands of years before you were born.”

Thranduil didn’t speak; instead he regarded Glorfindel with interest.

“You often refer to Haldir as a pup,” Glorfindel continued, “and that’s what you are to me. You are King Pup.”

Thranduil winced. “Until now there has been only one nickname that I abhor – Thrandy. Now, there are two.”

Glorfindel smiled.

“And how is Haldir?” Thranduil asked, deviously. “I do not know if any mud hit him… if so, he may need your assistance in the bathing hall.”

Glorfindel sighed and shook his head.

“Why do you try to resist, Haldir?” Thranduil asked. “Does his youth frighten you?”

“Aye. Haldir is a child. I am old enough to be his grandfather… I am old enough to be your father, Thranduil. Haldir seems like a kindly young elf, and I admit that he is very handsome. But I question Haldir’s interest in me.”

“Why?”

“Because Haldir is a child. He does not know what he wants. His feelings for me are not real; it is simply infatuation. I have been alone for thousands of years. I have outgrown the need for intimate companionship.”

“Glorfindel,” Thranduil began, “I have a great deal of respect for you, but cannot listen to this blather about Haldir any longer.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened.

“You may have deluded yourself into believing that you do not need or want companionship, but that is simply ludicrous. I have seen you in the background on numerous occasions since I have been here. You are lonely, Glorfindel. Do not try to deny it.”

“I am not lonely,” Glorfindel said. “My duty to Rivendell keeps me company.”

“Nonsense,” Thranduil said, dismissing Glorfindel’s statement with a wave of his hand. “Your fealty to this realm is admirable, but your duty does not fully satisfy you. I can see it in your eyes. You long for more than servility alone. You may have fallen into shadow years ago, but you are not the walking dead. You are very much alive, Glorfindel. You should enjoy your life. Why not spend your days and nights alongside someone who seems to have much in common with you? And, although I do not know Haldir very well, I do not believe that his feelings are as shallow as infatuation. Look into his eyes the next time you see him. His heart is genuine; he seems to sincerely care about you.”

“But I have never thought of Haldir in that way… not… romantically. I do not know if I want to involve myself with someone whose intentions are so unknown.”

“You are not obligated to become involved with Haldir,” Thranduil said. “Why not spend some time with him? You may find him worthy of more than a passing glance.”

Glorfindel sighed.

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Elladan motioned to Elrohir, who walked toward his twin, shaking his head. Elladan was standing a few meters from his father’s healing chamber, where he had seen King Thranduil enter a bit earlier.

“What is it, Elladan?” Elrohir asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“I made a huge mistake this time,” Elladan said. “Legolas, Dace and Makail are certain to be furious with me. How severely do you think they were punished?”

“I do not know,” Elrohir said, shrugging. “But judging by the king’s usual temperament, methinks that we will not see the Mirkwood princes for a long time.”

“Oh, Elrohir… do not jest.”

“Who’s jesting?”

“I have to find a way to apologize to the king. Maybe then, he will not be so harsh on his sons,” Elladan said, looking toward the room and wondering when the king would exit.

“I am certain that your apology will do little to persuade the king. He has probably already punished the princes… notice how we haven’t seen them since the mud fight.”

“I have to do something,” Elladan said pitifully. “Elrohir you have to help me.”

“Oh, no I don’t,” Elrohir said quickly, backing away from his twin. “I do not wish to be involved in anything that you want to do. You will only end up making the king angry, and I do not want to be anywhere near when King Thranduil’s head explodes because you said something foolish.”

“That’s it!” Elladan exclaimed. “Elrohir, you’re brilliant!”

“What?” Elrohir asked, giving Elladan a wary look.

“We can switch places,” Elladan said.

“Switch places? Are you insane?”

“Nay, it is a perfect plan. You said it yourself… I will only anger the king. But you… you are far more eloquent than I. King Thranduil will listen to you. Pretend to be me and humbly apologize. Tell King Thranduil that the mud fight was my idea and that his sons had nothing to do with it; they were only defending themselves. The king will not be able to stay angry, and the Mirkwood princes will not be punished. This is a perfect plan.”

“But can’t the king tell up apart?” Elrohir asked.

“Of course not,” Elladan said. “That is the best part of the plan. I think he has made a few lucky guesses in the past when we are together, but he will never be able to tell us apart individually. You know as well as I that even Dace and Makail cannot tell us apart.”

“That’s true,” Elrohir remarked. “Just the other day I had a whole conversation with Makail. I didn’t realize he thought I was you until he called me Elladan.”

“You see?” Elladan remarked. “We are mirror images of one another. Aside from our family and close friends, few can tell us apart.”

“But Legolas could…” Elrohir said.

“Legolas is a bit odd,” Elladan said. “You know… with his gift and that. He senses things differently than most elves.”

“I am sure you are right. And anyway, because your love can communicate with animals, I am certain that it took him no time at all to discover that you are much like a mare – slightly simple, docile and easy to ride,” Elrohir said, laughing.

Elladan frowned. “I resent that remark. I will have you know that my mare, Ellie, is twice as smart as your Eliad.”

Elrohir continued to laugh.

Elladan sighed loudly. “I would punch you right in the face if I didn’t need you at this moment. Your face must be intact when you speak to the king.”

“I’m not speaking to the king,” Elrohir said, regaining his composure.

“What? Why not?”

“You are insane, Elladan. This will never work.”

“Yes, it will. It has to.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Elrohir, please,” Elladan begged.

“No.”

“Elrohir…” Elladan said.

“Forget it, Elladan. I’m not doing it!”

“Yes you will.”

“No I won’t,” Elrohir said, folding his arms acroos his chest indignantly.

“Yes you will,” Elladan said, “or I am going to tell father about the time you used his favorite sword and nearly destroyed it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Elrohir said.

“Oh yes I would.”

“But how could you?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, I’m afraid,” Elladan said.

“But there are many things that I could tell father about you. I an not the only one who has secrets.”

“True,” Elladan said, nodding. “But father sure was furious when he saw the condition of his sword. Methinks that anything you could say about me would pale in comparison to that.”

Elrohir sighed loudly and glared at Elladan, speaking between clenched teeth. “Alright, I will be you, and I will apologize to the king. But you owe me.”

“Whenever you need a favor, I will do it without question,” Elladan said.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Elrohir said.

“Here he comes,” Elladan said. “I’m going to go into the parlor and wait. I can hear what the king is saying from there, but should be undetected. Good luck, Elrohir. Remember, make me look good in front of the king.” Elladan raced to the parlor.

Elrohir inhaled and exhaled deeply, to calm his nerves, and waited for the king.

Thranduil exited from the healing chamber and nearly floated above the floor. Although his arm was hurting and he had been defeated twice in one day, his mind was on the Lord of Rivendell and the kiss they had shared. He wondered what he would say to Elrond the next time they saw one another. Thranduil walked toward the entrance hall and saw one of the dark-haired twins standing before him.

“Sire,” Elrohir said bowing deeply. “I am certain that you are very busy, but may I take a moment of your time?”

“Very well,” Thranduil said after pausing for a moment. “What do you want?”

“To apologize,” Elrohir said, hoping that his act was convincing.

“To apologize for what?” The king asked, confused.

“I started the mud fight in the grove today.”

“You did?” Thranduil asked, surprised that Elrohir would do such a thing.

“All blame should fall to me, please do not punish your sons; they were only defending themselves from my folly.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Thranduil said, “but my sons are responsible for their own actions. It is not as though they were called into sudden battle… they were throwing mud.”

“I know, Sire,” Elrohir said, really piling on the charm. “But fierce warriors like your sons, must defend their honor when they are challenged. They really had no other choice, because I left none for them. They had to fight.”

“I see,” Thranduil said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“I would never want my beloved, my Legolas, to be punished for my wrongdoing.”

Thranduil stared at Elrohir in shock and then everything became very clear. “Is that a fact?” he asked. “Well, **Elladan** I have decided that you are too foolish for my youngest son. I have decided to give his hand to Elrohir.”

Elladan, who was sitting in the parlor, stood up abruptly, knocking over a small table.

Thranduil heard the loud crash but continued to speak. “Oh… but Elrohir is to be wed. No matter… I will speak to Duke Maris. I am certain he will agree to dissolve Ellaria’s arrangement with him. Then, my son can marry a male with real zest.”

“But… but… Sire,” Elrohir said.

“Nay, nay, do not try to change my mind, Elladan. Elrohir has always been honorable; he has **never** lied to me.”

“He hasn’t,” Elrohir said sheepishly.

“Never,” Thranduil said, enjoying tormenting Elrohir a great deal.

A very troubled Elladan stumbled into the entrance hall and Thranduil grinned from ear to ear.

“Ah, **Elrohir** I was just talking about you.”

“You… you were?”

“Oh, yes,” Thranduil remarked. “I have decided that Elladan is a complete fool, unworthy of my Legolas. I shall give him to you instead. Better yet… Legolas has shown me that he is too young for marriage. Thus, I will give you to Makail. He is recently single and is in need of companionship.”

“But… but, Milord,” Elladan blurted out before thinking. “Elladan loves Legolas; he would die without him… as… as you have seen.”

“What I see are two completely idiotic elves who have gone to great lengths to try and trick me!”

The twins exchanged terrified looks. “What… what do you mean, Sire?” Elrohir asked

“I mean that I can tell you apart,” Thranduil spat. “I wondered why Elrohir was confessing to me… when I knew the instigator of this and everything foolish is the man-elf, Elladan.”

“Sire… Sire, I can explain,” Elladan said.

“You can, and you will – to your father **and** your grandfather. Let’s go find them, shall we?”

Elrohir gave Elladan a furious look, as the two elves were ushered out of the door by a very cross king.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hours later, the opening ceremony began. The exterior of the manor had been beautifully decorated with long strips of blue fabric that blew gently in the wind, seemingly beckoning visitors from all over the realm. Similarly, the guesthouses bore strips of fabric that represented the color of their realm. Lothlórien had streamers of gold and Mirwood’s decorations were green.

Hundreds of chairs were scattered across the lawns behind the manors so that onlookers could see the participants from each realm arrive. The air was charged with excitement and the audience cheered loudly when loud music began to play. All eyes were on an enormous platform that sat in front of the crowd. It had three elevated thrones on it, one in the middle, one on the left and one on the right. In between the thrones there were smaller chairs where honored guests or other members of the royal families could sit. In the front, middle section of the platform, a large podium stood majestically, awaiting its speaker.

The music became louder and more upbeat suddenly, and the audience began to cheer again when the lords from each realm appeared. They each exited from the back of their respective houses, followed by all of the warriors who would be participating in the competition. The leader from each realm wore the colors that represented their realm. The warriors, however, were allowed to wear whatever tunic they had but were required to wear armbands that symbolized the color of their realm.

Thranduil looked at Elrond, who was wearing a beautiful cobalt blue tunic and sable leggings. He longed to speak with the Lord of Rivendell about what had happened earlier between them, but knew that this was not the time or place. He would wait until later, when they were alone. The king scanned the crown and regarded Celeborn who was wearing a beautiful golden tunic and russet colored leggings. Thranduil met Celeborn’s eyes suddenly, and the two bowed to one another. Thranduil was glad that he and Celeborn had the opportunity to speak before the opening ceremony. And he was especially glad that his newfound relationship with the Lórien Lord had not been damaged by his sons’ foolishness.

Elrond looked in Thranduil’s direction and gasped. As always the King of Mirkwood looked beautiful. He had on cinnamon colored leggings, a stunning forest green tunic and a matching green cape that stretched to the ground. He wore an ornate crown on top of his head, woven delicately in the way of the elves, but trimmed with leaves made from the finest steel. The king’s hair was not braided, he wore it loose and neatly tucked behind his ears and the crown seemed to keep the style in place. Elrond watched Thranduil for a few moments and then remembered the kiss. Pushing the memory aside, Elrond and the Rivendell warriors walked into the huge crowd, bidding good tidings to their supporters as well as elves from other realms.

Thranduil swept through the crowd, speaking to everyone who approached him. He knew that many of the guests were wondering where his sons were, but no one asked, probably for fear of angering him. He offered no explanation, and continued to make his way through the crowd. Suddenly, the king stopped moving when he saw a comely, young she-elf, eagerly searching the crowd; it was Tialise. The king watched her and felt a swell of sympathy when he saw her sigh with disappointment and start at the ground sadly. Although he was angry at Dace, he would let no harm come to his son’s beloved. The king approached the young elf, but she didn’t notice.

“Lady Tialise,” Thranduil said gently.

The she-elf looked up slowly and gasped when she saw the King of Mirkwood standing before her. She wiped a tear from her face quickly and tried to compose herself. “King Thranduil?” she said, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. “Aye, Sire it is I.”

Thranduil smiled. “I have been searching all over for you. I have a message from my son, Dace.”

Tialise’s eyes widened, but she tried not to seem too anxious in front of the king.

Thranduil smiled inwardly. Tialise was adorable. Her youth was evident in all that she did. He could see why Dace was so taken with her. “Dace wanted me to apologize for him… he will be unable to come to the opening ceremony this day.”

Tialise’s face fell; she nodded slowly.

“He had to attend to some business of the royal house, and could not get away,” the king continued.

Tialise nodded again, but looked utterly miserable and on the verge of tears. “Thank you for telling me, Sire,” she said softly.

“I was wondering… Lady Tialise,” Thranduil said, determined to lift the young elf’s spirits, “if you would do me the honor and taking up the seat at my left hand this day?”

Tialise’s eyes widened again and she regarded the king with an expression of shock. “Me? But those seats are reserved for family or honored guests.”

“Aye,” Thranduil said. “I would like you to be my personal, honoruestuest this day.”

Tialise was speechless, to be invited to sit with the king of Mirkwood was a rare treat indeed. Her sadness disappeared at once and she smiled excitedly. “Yes, Sire. I would very much like to sit with you.”

“Very well,” Thranduil said. “Your seat awaits.” The king held out his arm and Tialise grasped it a bit too roughly, causing the king to lose his balance for a moment.

“Sorry,” Tialise whispered.

Thranduil smiled and bowed politely at the young female, then led her to the platform.

The crowd whispered frantically, trying to understand why the king of Mirkwood had taken an interest in this young, she-elf.

The king took his seat on the throne to the right of the platform. Tialise sat down in the chair just to the left of the king, grinning happily. One of the kings most trusted servants took up the seat at Thranduil’s right.

Celeborn emerged from the crowd and climbed the steps of the platform. He sat on the throne on the left of the stage and was joined by Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin.

Elrond was the last to leave the crowd. He escorted Arwen to her seat and went to the podium, instead of taking his seat that was in the center of the platform.

Elladan, Elrohir sat just to the left of Tialise, taking up two seats that were to the right of their father’s throne. Elrohir glared at his brother, still quite cross about the harsh scolding they received from their father and grandfather prior to the festivities. Elladan tried to apologize to his brother but Elrohir suddenly insisted on switching places with Arwen.

Glorfindel sat in a chair that was to the left of Elrond’s throne… right beside Haldir.

Haldir greeted Glorfindel who smiled and nodded politely.

The Elder could not help but notice the sudden redness of Haldir’s cheeks and how the elf seemed to shrink in his presence. He felt someone’s eyes upon him and scanned the audience and the platform carefully. His gaze landed upon a grinning, smug-looking Thranduil. He sighed and shook his head slowly as Elrond began to speak.

“Let the opening ceremony commence…”

The crowd cheered wildly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas could hear all of the music and cheering outside and wished that he could have gone to the opening ceremony. He was bored. Even though this was his bedchamber… he had spent little time in this room. As far as he was concerned, the bedchamber in the Mirkwood guesthouse was completely foreign to him. He had been spending every night with Elladan and wondered if he would ever be able to sleep alone. He sighed and paced the room, silently cursing for getting caught by his father. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise coming from a large armoire across the room. He regarded the clothespress cautiously, walking towat. At. As Legolas approached the wardrobe, he realized that someone was hiding inside. He grabbed one of his weapons, a knife, from his dresser and slowly made his way to the armoire. Placing his hand on the doorknob he opened it quickly, placing his knife at the throat of the intruder. It was Elrohir. “Elrohir,” Legolas said with relief, “how did you get into my bedchamber? I did not hear you enter.”

Elrohir didn’t speak; he just stared at Legolas in a sinister way. “I have a gift for you,” he said icily. “Come and see.”

“But… Elrohir… I cannot. I am already in enough trouble with my father and if he knew you were here…”

“Come and see!” Elrohir hissed.

Legolas kept his knife close at hand but followed Elrohir. He felt very uneasy for some reason, but was compelled to follow the youngest Rivendell twin. Legolas couldn’t help but notice the strange way in which Elrohir was moving and how a putrid stench seemed to emanate from him. Something was not right.

“In here,” Elrohir said.

Legolas entered a small grey-colored chamber with nothing in it except a large box and an enormous armoire, large enough to house four of five elves. He could hear noises coming from inside the armoire and noticed that he was feeling especially anxious.

Elrohir smiled evilly and drool came out of his mouth. His eyes changed color, from silvery grey to black. And the blacs sps spread, overcoming the white of his eyes. He grinned and Legolas could see fangs instead of teeth and long razor sharp claws grew out of his fingernails.

Legolas reached for his knife, but it was gone.

Elrohir hissed and walked over to the armoire. He opened the door and entered it.

Legolas could hear a scream emerge from inside the wardrobe and a loud thud. Then Elrohir came back out, holding a large box in his hands. He thrust the box in Legolas’ arms.

“Open it.”

Legolas looked at the box skeptically.

“Open it!” Elrohir demanded.

Legolas pulled the grey bow off of the box and opened it. Peering inside he saw the head of an elf.

“For you,” Elrohir said, grasping the head by the hair and giving it to Legolas. It was Elladan’s head. His eyes were full of terror and his mouth was open and contorted in pain.

Legolas dropped the head and looked at Elrohir. “This is a dream,” the prince said. “This isn’t real.”

“Isn’t real?” Elrohir said, approaching him.

“No,” Legolas said. “You are not real… none of this. I am dreaming.”

“No, this isn’t a dream,” Elrohir said. “It is real.” He grabbed Legolas by the hair and shoved him to the floor, placing his claws to the left of the prince’s neck.

Legolas could hear himself scream; he felt an indescribable pain. His vi dar darkened and the he could taste his own blood in his mouth.

---

TBC…