Tonight and Any Other

Title: Tonight and Any Other [Part 10/?]
Author: Silvertree (Megumi Takahashi)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Legolas/Haldir, Orophin/Whitelock, Glorfindel/Elrond, eventual Legolas/Aragorn and Celeborn/Haldir
Setting: Pre-LotR
Disclaimers/description: Please see chapter one of Tonight and Any Other.
Dedications: CryKat - You rock, chica. And Kala, of course, and Aqui, and Blantie-chan, and Joy, and Dorie, and Liana Wanderwillow, and- *shuts up*

'...' Denotes speech in the Elvish languages.
/.../ Denotes thought.


Ai, ai! Chapter 11, or more Whitelock... *pulls at hair* I can't decide which to write next! If you review, please state your preference, chapter 11 or more of "Erfaen's" history.

----------

In the end, it took the combined efforts of Rúmil and Whitelock, plus a few rather serious threats from Galadriel, to prevent Celeborn from mounting his horse and sallying forth to do exactly as he had threatened, Elrond be damned. Orophin hadn't been seen for the better part of two days, but he had put in an appearance when Celeborn was in the stables, being reprimanded by his wife, and taken Celeborn's axe from where it hung in the council room, before his lord could do anything rash with it.

The absence of his beloved weapon, of course, drew Celeborn's immediate attention.

'Who took my axe?' The elf grumbled and glared around the room until his eyes fell upon Galadriel. It was at least the tenth time he had asked the question in as many minutes, and a thorough search of the mostly empty room had already been conducted. Celeborn's eyes were veritable fires of rage, and they bored through Galadriel as if she didn't even exist.

The tall, blonde she-elf sighed and shrugged her shoulders. 'I've told you many times, dear one, I do not know. I was in the stables at the time, trying to keep you from getting killed. It was probably Orophin, and don't you give me that look when I mention his name,' she scolded firmly, shaking a finger in her husband's direction. 'He didn't mean to force the barb so deep, and he was only concerned for his brother's well being. You would have done the same thing had it been your brother.'

Celeborn slumped into his chair and sighed, pointed chin coming to rest in a slender palm. Galadriel was right, of course, and that fact infuriated the Elven-lord all the more. Orophin had been in the right when he acted, but the blatant lack of respect still lodged itself under Celeborn's skin. Finally, however, he caved under his wife's stern gaze - for the moment, anyway - and sighed.

'Oh, you're right, as usual,' the silver-haired elf muttered, as he took the end of his long braid in his hand and twisted it fitfully. 'That's what I despise about you, Galadriel. You're always right.' Celeborn sighed as Galadriel laughed at his statement, and he accepted her kiss with a genuine fondness, if not the passion of a lover. The blond elf-woman plucked the thick braid from Celeborn's fingers and smoothed the end before she draped it over his shoulder.

'Not always, love, but sometimes, and perhaps it would do you a turn of good to listen to me for once. I know you're upset with Orophin, and I can understand that, but please, don't hold a grudge. There's no point to that. Besides, if it weren't for him, you wouldn't have had an opportunity to wage war on our son-in-law.' She laughed as Celeborn flushed a bright red. 'Oh, I won't pretend that I didn't notice that attraction, all those years ago. You were very partial to our dear little Elrond.'

Celeborn actually managed a weak smile, and he took his wife's hand. 'If you could leave me with just a bit of my pride, please...' Galadriel laughed again, and kissed her husband's lips lovingly.

'Of course, dear. But promise me that you will talk to Orophin at some point. I'll send him to you when I see him next, if you want, but please, don't let him waste away with worry and guilt.' She pulled her hand free from Celeborn's and turned, vanishing from the room in a swirl of white. The Elven-lord looked around the room and cursed softly.

'Ai... Haldir, I wonder if you know how much of this stems from you.'

---

Legolas was not amused. He rose from the soft confines of his bed and went immediately to the shelves and wardrobe in the corner of his room, the doors slamming open before he even reached them. He started seizing his usual tunics and leggings, before he remembered that today was supposed to be Estel's coming of age ceremony. The Prince cursed loudly, before he stuffed his clothing back into the wardrobe without no care whatsoever and instead drew out a set of silver and grey robes, made by Lórien's weavers. He ran a hand over the embroidered pattern of leaves and vines, before he tugged them over his head and belted them with a pale green sash. A lightweight outer robe of a rougher weave and a dark grey color went over the other robes, providing a contrast between light and dark.

Legolas reached beneath his clothing and freed the necklace Haldir had given him, settling it about his neck and chest before he drew the collar of the heavy robe closed and fastened it. The metal felt cool and pleasantly heavy through the fabric, and Legolas ran the tips of his fingers over the runes engraved upon it. He sighed heavily.

'Damn you, Estel,' he muttered as he snatched his diadem from where it rested on a shelf and settled it on his head. He would not give into the human, no matter how different and exotic the man seemed. After all, was Haldir himself not exotic among elves? No other Legolas knew had such thick golden hair, such sharp grey eyes, such tawny skin stretched over such a perfect form. Legolas found himself desperately wanting to be rid of Imladris for the time being, be rid of the new bane of his existence.

No, Legolas decided, not truly a bane. An annoyance, yes, but... There was something undeniably attractive about the young human.

And that attraction was something Legolas feared.

A sudden knock on his door caused Legolas to jump, and he decided that if it was Estel come to call, he would hide in his bed and not emerge until the human had left. However, the voice that sounded faintly through the door was not that of Estel at all.

'Legolas! I adar o ammen aníra-an gar-glam ah lle!' (("Legolas! Our father wants to speak with you!" [Lit., "Legolas! The father of us wishes to share speech with you!"])) It was Elrohir's voice, and Legolas eagerly opened the door. The twins, for rarely were they seen apart, vaulted into Legolas' arms, causing him to lurch backwards and fall upon the bed. Elladan and Elrohir landed on top of him, and then three of them laughed and tussled for a minute before the twins rose, smoothing their robes and pulling Legolas to his feet. Elladan flashed a wide, white grin at the Prince.

'You little harlot! Going and stealing our Estel like that; whatever shall I do? And poor Elrohir, where is he to find comfort at night?' Legolas snorted in response and smoothed out his own robes.

'In your bed, where he always does,' he remarked with a smile, and Elladan laughed, knowing that it was true. The Peredhel straightened Legolas' diadem, and with an arm around Elrohir's waist, led the Prince out of the room and down the hallway. Elrohir returned his brother's half-embrace, the pair of them oblivious to any looks that might be cast in their direction, though in reality none were.

'Lucky, we are,' Elrohir said quietly, 'to have each other.' His other half murmured an agreement, tightening his grip around Elrohir's waist. It was indeed as if they were two separate halves of the same person, Elladan the elder and wilder, and Elrohir the younger, calmer and more prone to lore and study like their father. Perhaps that was why they fit so well together, the Prince pondered, before he cast a brief glance out of a window.

'What time is it?' Legolas questioned. Elrohir responded by squinting his eyes and looking at the sun's position.

'It was perhaps ten in the morning when we came for you, and not much time has passed since then. We must hurry, however, if our father is to speak to you, and still be on time for Estel's celebration,' he said. A nod from Legolas prompted the twins to lead the Prince through a series of corridors, until they finally arrived at the Library. It was empty, due to the festival preparations, and Legolas marveled at the silence. On and on they went, past rows of full bookshelves, until at last Elladan pushed open a smaller, wooden door. It was the entrance to Elrond's study, and the Lord himself was situated at a large desk of polished wood, writing upon a scroll with quill and ink. The three left him alone until he had finished, and when Elrond had signed his name, he turned to his visitors.

'Ai, Legolas," he said with a small smile, 'I see my sons have found you and brought you as I requested. They must have had less trouble rousing you than I had rousing them.' He chuckled as Elrohir made a sound of mock indignation and put his nose in the air, strutting out of the study. Elladan grinned at his father, and Elrond waved a hand airily. 'Go on, Elladan. Glorfindel will be here soon, and we shall be in time for the feast.'

Elladan gave a nod and trotted off after his brother, nearly bumping into the blonde Elven-Lord who was hurrying towards the back of the Library. Glorfindel neatly sidestepped the dark-haired Lord and pushed open the study door, slipping inside to face Imladris' Master and Thranduil's son. He bobbed his head quickly.

'Good morrow, Legolas,' he said, before seating himself in a cushioned, high-backed chair. Elrond motioned for Legolas to do likewise, and the prince did, surprised at the comfort of the seemingly stiff and regal piece of furniture. Elrond poured three glasses of miruvor, Imladris' most famous and fabled wine. Legolas took his and sipped, delighting in the sweet taste and the way the stuff wetted his sleep-dried throat. Elrond took a sip from his own glass, before he set it on his desk and folded his hands in his lap.

'I am sorry, Legolas,' he said, 'to have to meet with you on such matters. I would much prefer to have visits with my kindred when arms and battles are not involved. However, perhaps we may speak now and leave the matter until you return to your homeland, for I do not wish to see the remainder of your stay with us spoiled.' When Legolas nodded his thanks and assent, Elrond unrolled once again the scroll the Prince had brought.

'Fortunately, according to Thranduil, things have not become too severe, yet. Yet is the operative word,' Elrond continued, 'and your father wishes to keep that time from ever occurring. He values your council and assistance, which is why he asked you to see me, and then return home, though he was loathe to tear you from Lothlórien. He would gladly have made the journey himself, but...' Elrond chewed on his lower lip for a moment. 'He is needed there, to do what he can.'

Legolas nodded in agreement. 'I understand my father's position,' he said. 'To rule a kingdom is no easy thing, and to speak truly I do not overly look forward to having to take my father's place, should that time ever come. But tell me, my Lord, what news may I convey to my father?'

Elrond made a small gesture to Glorfindel, and flaxen-haired elf scooped up a large leather satchel, pulling forth no fewer than a dozen large, thick scrolls, each enclosed in a waterproof leather case. 'Elrond and I spent time last night, and some this morning, compiling what useful information we could find and think of. Unfortunately there is not much more that we can do, for we have not seen the situation ourselves. We hope, however, that these may be of use to you.'

The golden-haired Prince gaped at the sheer volume of the scrolls, then accepted them with a deep bow and replaced them in the satchel. He didn't know what to say; Elrond and Glorfindel had done far more than he imagined they would. He bowed again, before clasping the Lords' hands tightly.

'I cannot begin to express my gratitude for all that you have done, my Lords,' he said, 'and I am sure that we will be able to use all that you have given us.' He bowed a third time, clutching the leather bag tightly to his chest, until Elrond chuckled lightly. Legolas looked up to see that the dark-haired Lord was blushing lightly, as was the golden-haired one. Then Elrond rose from his chair, taking a final sip of his drink.

'It was nothing less than what Thranduil has done for us in the past, Legolas. No thanks is needed, for we are all kin and would not deny each other aid in times of need. Now,' he said, lightening the mood somewhat, 'there is still some time before the celebrations begin. If you wish to refresh yourself, I recommend that you do so now, though the baths will undoubtedly be somewhat crowded. I myself intend to head there, before everything begins.'

Legolas bowed a final time and accepted Elrond's invitation to depart. The Lord himself settled back in his chair and rolled the now-dry scroll tightly, tying it with a ribbon and impressing his own seal into the pool of wax that held the small strip of fabric. He then wrapped the scroll in a piece of fine white silk, sealing it with pine resin and placing it inside a well made, decorated scroll case. He tucked the item under his arm and rose, smiling at Glorfindel and accepting the other elf's hand.

Preparations were, for the most part, completed, and there was nothing that Elrond himself needed to oversee. He and Glorfindel stopped by their chambers, gathered their ceremonial robes, and headed off towards the baths. Elrond's mind, however, drifted back towards the scroll that now rested on a table beside the bed. It was one of his two presents to Estel, and perhaps the more important of the two.

It was time Estel knew who he was.

----------

TBC...