Princes Three: Darkness Unforeseen

*A/N: Well, here it is...or the beginning of it, anyway. Following numerous false starts, multiple deletions and just general chaos, I gave up and let the elves have their way. ‘Dan and ‘Roh would like to point out that they have suffered bitterly to get here, and they are bloody well going to take their time and enjoy it.

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Chapter 9

Legolas lay staring into the darkness as the telltale squeak of

leather confirmed what the cool breeze on his back had already

announced. Elrohir was slipping away, long before dawn.

Again.

Legolas did not speak, knowing his questions as unwelcome this

morning as they had been all others during the fortnight since

Celebrían awoke. The promise of that day had faded swiftly,

crushed beneath the Lady’s broken spirit and the words and deeds

that hung like a cloying curtain between Elladan and Elrohir.

Though the twins were cordial, even affectionate, with one

another during the day, the coming of night found the bedchamber

filled with a tension that threatened to steal Legolas’ very

breath. The air itself seemed charged, rife with a yearning none

would acknowledge.

Elladan had taken to lingering in the healing hall into the wee

hours of morning, creeping quietly into bed long after his lovers

had succumbed to sleep. Elrohir began every day as this one –

slipping away into the grey gloom of early morning, sometimes to

the healing hall, sometimes to the stable or barracks, but always

silently, and always alone.

Legolas was left drifting, torn between sympathy and

exasperation, his impatience mounting with each passing day. A

single perfunctory coupling with the still oddly passive Elladan

had left him uneasy, while his tentative overtures toward Elrohir

had been gently rebuffed, as though the elf-knight thought himself

unworthy of loving.

Legolas’ troubled musings were cut short when Elladan shifted

restlessly, a frown marring his reverie-softened features as his

reaching hand fell not on Elrohir’s hip, but on twisted bedding and

a still-warm mattress.

Suddenly Legolas could endure no more. He slid from beneath the

elder twin’s arm and stood up abruptly, heedless of Elladan’s

drowsy groan of protest. Returning from the bathing chamber a few

moments later, Legolas dressed quickly, jerking on leggings and

tunic, then turned to face his bewildered lover.

“Where are you going?” Elladan asked, sitting up amid the

rumpled linens. “It is not yet light.”

“Nay, it is not yet light,” Legolas replied crisply, tugging on

his boots before going to the wardrobe and removing a second pair

of leggings and another tunic.

“’Las?”

Legolas heard the note of uncertainty in the entreaty and went

still, consciously reining in his own sense of frustration before

moving back to the bed. Sitting down beside Elladan, Legolas

brushed his lips against his lover’s forehead before speaking. “I

am going to Anteruon’s suite. I can do this no longer, ‘Dan.”

Hurt flared in Elladan’s eyes, and Legolas quickly continued.

“I have become a barrier between you and ‘Roh. A wall that allows

you both to hide from that which you need to truly heal.”

Elladan opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced with a

firm shake of his lover’s head. “You know I speak the truth, el

nín,” Legolas said. “You use me to avoid being alone together, to

avoid facing what has passed between you. This cannot go on. I

cannot bear it...I will not bear it.”

“When will you come back?” Elladan asked unsteadily, his

fingers curling around the prince’s arm.

Legolas gently pulled away, steeling himself against the

pleading in Elladan’s eyes. “I believe hat is up to you and ‘Roh.”

*****************

To Elrohir it seemed that the day had passed with unnatural

haste, as though his very dreading brought the night’s falling

closer. When informed of Legolas’ decision, he had pleaded with

the prince, would have willingly begged on his knees for reprieve

had such a course held any hope, but his arguments were for naught.

Legolas had embraced him tightly, murmuring reassurances, and

moved away.

Any hope that Elladan would continue his habit of staying at

Celebrían’s side long into the night had been dashed at dinner by

Anteruon’s announcement that he and Elrond would share the night’s

duties, as Elladan had been so frequently called upon. The elder

twin was left with little recourse except grateful acceptance, and

the hand around Elrohir’s heart clenched ever tighter.

The Hall of Fire, often still and silent since the tragedy,

offered no diversion, and Elrond’s warm embrace was followed by a

gentle push, as though the elf-knight were a wayward elfling being

sent off to bed. Thus it was that Elrohir, with the vague feeling

that he was being manipulated at every turn, wandered to his

chambers.

Thoughtful touches abounded in the front room, from the

crackling fire to the light throw that lay invitingly across the

oversized chair the twins had long preferred. The shutters were

open wide, letting in the night’s brisk breeze as well as the soft

glow of moon and stars. A covered tray sat primly on the side

table, and Elrohir was sure of its contents before first glimpse.

Cookies, strawberries, honey and cream...

Someone had gone to much effort to make the room both

comfortable and eerily reminiscent of their majority’s eve.

Erestor? Glorfindel?

His musings cut short by the unexpected sound of running water,

Elrohir moved to the door of the bathing chamber and stopped short.

Elladan?

The room was aglow with candles. The pouring water steamed,

carrying the scent of fragrant oils, and on the wide rim of the tub

sat a newly opened bottle of miruvor and two goblets. Elladan

stood in the midst of it all, his eyes wide, the answer leaving his

lips even before the question could be asked. “It was not me...I

heard the water and came to see...”

A heartbeat later he was cursing his quick tongue and slow wits,

watching the hope that had flared a second too late in Elrohir’s

eyes fade under the weight of his own fumbling excuses. His

brother turned to leave without a word and Elladan reached out to

grasp his arm, beset by a sense of urgency that knew no reason.

“Wait, ‘Roh, please.”

Elrohir stopped but did not speak, his jaw set firmly, though

whether in anger or hurt the elder twin could not tell. The grey

eyes that should have sparkled with mischief were clouded and dim,

and Elladan’s grip tightened. “It was not me,” he repeated,

holding Elrohir’s gaze through will alone. “But my lack of

foresight does not mean we cannot enjoy the bounty provided.”

There was a pause that seemed endless, and Elladan continued, his

voice smaller and less certain. “Will you not join me, tôren?”

At first it seemed that Elrohir would refuse, but at last he

nodded slowly. “If it pleases you.”

An awkward silence descended, broken only by the rustle of silk

and the thud of falling boots. Unable to bear the tension any

longer, Elladan reached impulsively for his brother’s braids.

“This is foolish,” he said with a sigh, unbinding the inky plaits.

“We have bathed together since we were but elflings.”

Elrohir did not respond at once, his attention focused on the

gleaming ovals of lapis that he pulled from Elladan’s loosened

braids. At last he laid the beads aside and turned a sober gaze on

his twin. “We are not elflings, ‘Dan,” he said quietly, his eyes

flitting across Elladan’s now unmarked chest.

“We are not,” the elder twin agreed, turning away to strip off

his leggings.

He faced the tub again to find Elrohir already immersed, eyes

carefully averted from Elladan’s unclothed form. Sinking into the

steaming water, Elladan let out a groan of relief as the heat

relaxed his taut muscles, easing the tension that always followed

him back from the healing hall.

As though reading his brother’s thoughts, Elrohir asked, ”Was

Anteruon with Nana?”

Elladan nodded. “He has become a fine healer, and perhaps a

finer brother, over the years.”

“He has. We all owe him much.”

Another silence fell, less awkward, yet strained by thoughts

unspoken. Soaping a cloth, Elladan reached for his brother’s arm

and began washing it without speaking, the once familiar ritual

soothing, carrying them back, if only for a moment, to a simpler

time, to the years when two uncertain younglings had yearned for a

closeness they did not yet understand.

Elrohir closed his eyes as the cloth swept his cheekbones and

traced his nose, a faint smile curving his lips as the tickling

bubbles once again threatened to cause a sneeze, just as they had

when he was small. He heard Elladan chuckle, then clear water

rinsed away the soap and drenched his hair. There was a moment's

pause before gentle fingers began kneading his scalp, working the

slippery suds down the length of the sodden ebony strands. There

was another deluge of water, then his face was carefully patted

dry, and Elrohir opened his eyes to find his twin smiling at him

hopefully. Taking the offered cloth, the elf-knight soaped it once

more and reached for Elladan’s arm.

Elladan blinked back tears of relief as Elrohir’s tentative

touches became more confident, then closed his eyes, losing himself

in the affectionate warmth that had all but disappeared between

them since Celebrían’s ordeal began. A second rush of water

brought him back to the moment, leaving him spluttering good-naturedly under Elrohir’s laughing attempts to help.

“Forgive me, tôren,” the elf-knight chuckled, wiping at

Elladan’s face with the cloth. “I should have warned you.”

Elladan opened his eyes, his smile fading as he met Elrohir’s

suddenly sober gaze. “’Roh?”

“Forgive me, ‘Dan,” Elrohir repeated, all mirth gone from his

voice. “Forgive me.”

“I do,” Elladan replied, raising an unsteady hand to his

brother’s cheek. “I have, from the beginning.” A pause. “And

you? Can you forgive me?”

“You have done nothing that asks forgiveness.”

“I struck you, ‘Roh. And I failed you. I allowed my weakness

to...”

“No,” Elrohir broke in firmly. “If you seek absolution

for the blow, it was granted long ago. But I will not allow you to

take the blame for this madness on yourself. It is as you once

said - we were both to blame. And it is over now, Elladan. It is

over.”

The fervent apologies were followed by a moment of oddly

uncomfortable silence, and Elrohir retreated again to his end of

the tub, his eyes lighting on the bottle of miruvor. “Shall we

have a drink, then?” he asked, searching for a way to ease the

tension that was once again building in the room. “Since it has

been so kindly provided?”

“Aye,” Elladan answered, sliding forward to hold both glasses as

Elrohir poured the miruvor. Handing a goblet back to his twin, he

lifted his own in salute. “To healing?” he said, more question

than toast, his eyes searching Elrohir’s face intently.

“To healing,” the elf-knight echoed, touching his glass to

Elladan’s before downing the potent cordial in a single gulp.

Elrohir refilled his own goblet, then eyed his brother’s nearly

empty glass. “More?”

Elladan nodded. “One more, perhaps.”

They drank the second pouring in silence, and at a more

leisurely pace. Setting aside his own glass, Elladan waited for

his twin to do likewise, then touched Elrohir’s hand. “What do you

fear most?” he asked quietly.

Elrohir understood instantly, though he paused a moment before

answering.

“That my anger is not spent. That the rage will

return, and I will once again harm you. I could not bear it.”

Weaving his fingers through his brother’s, he added, “And you?

What do you fear, ‘Dan?”

“That we have gone too far,” Elladan whispered. “That the

damage is too great, the chasm too wide. That what is lost will

never be recovered.”

Elrohir’s eyes filled with tears and he leaned forward to press

his cheek to Elladan’s, his breath ghosting across his brother’s

ear. “You believe it to be so?”

Elladan pulled away slightly to meet the elf-knight’s anxious

gaze. “Nay,” he replied at last, ”I do not. I will not.”

Shivering suddenly in the cooling water, he stood and extended a

hand to Elrohir. “Will you come to bed, tôren?”

Elrohir inhaled deeply. Such a simple question, to hold both

hope and despair.

He nodded, and took Elladan’s hand.