Gifts of the Valar.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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The next day was fairly quiet around the keep. The Elves, of course, recovered without difficulty, though many of them were still a bit tired, but happily so. Legolas and Rumil remained abed with their ladies until late in the day when Alexandra and Charika finally stirred.

Charika awoke nestled in Rumil’s arms. She reached out and brushed her hand across his cheek and smiled as his blue eyes focused on her.

“Good day, my lord,” she said with a shy smile.

“Good day, my love,” he answered, returning her smile. He caught her fingers and pressed them against his lips, kissing them tenderly.

“I … feel so different, my lord, since you came here. I feel safe for the first time since … the pain.” She frowned. “I do not remember everything now, but I know something very bad happened.” Her face lit up. “But with you, I only remember happiness and comfort.”

“You will know only happiness and comfort with me,” Rumil said, pulling her close and kissing her gently. “Come, my lady. Let us bathe and eat and see how many of my brethren survived the night.”


The Lord of the Elves of Ithilien held his lady close, their bodies spooned together in the middle of the bed. He nuzzled her hair, lightly kissing her neck and ear. Alexandra sighed and wriggled against him, her eyes fluttering open.

“What time is it?” she asked, noticing the slant of sunlight through the window of their chamber.

“I believe it is well past noon,” Legolas replied. She turned to face him and grimaced as her head and stomach registered protests. He watched with an amused smile.

“Oh sh---,” she cut herself off, but completed the thought silently. Her head throbbed, her mouth was dry, her stomach churned. She didn’t remember drinking that much the night before.

“How do you feel, my love?” Legolas could see she was uncomfortable and thanked Eru that they still had some of Cunion’s remedy. But Alex’s physical discomfort was not what concerned him.

“Like I’ve been hit by a tra---by a Mumakil,” she said. Her body was somewhat sore, but in trying to place the reason, she realized it was the delightful discomfort that followed the especially … enthusiastic lovemaking she and Legolas sometimes enjoyed and she smiled, despite her aching head. Thinking back, she recalled Legolas as being a particularly ardent lover earlier and her body remembered and responded. She looked into his smiling eyes and laughed softly.

“You are entirely too cheerful for someone who just awoke,” she said.

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “It is because I awoke to my beautiful wife,” he said. His hand began to idly rub over the muscles of her flat belly, his fingers pausing to play with the mithril ring and its attached stones. “Did you enjoy yourself last night, my love?” he asked.

“I think so,” she answered. She laughed. “I know I certainly enjoyed myself once we got back to our room.”

He chuckled. “As did I,” he said, once again leaning down and kissing her, this time lingering a bit as his lips teased hers. “What did you think of the party?” he added, casually.

“It was nice,” she replied, her fingers playing with the silky strands of his blonde hair. His braids were completely undone and she recalled wrapping her fingers in them quite a bit last night---well, this morning, actually. “Everyone seemed to have a good---.” She stopped and frowned a moment. Then a look of horror washed over her face. “Oh, my God, Legolas.” She stared at him. “What did I do?” She closed her eyes and groaned as her memory of the evening came back in all its glory.

Legolas pulled her into his arms and held her as she buried her face against his shoulder.

“You ate, you drank, you danced, you made love to me,” he said. “You enjoyed yourself, and so did I. Do not be troubled, my love.”

“I cannot believe I … Erestor? I will never be able to look him in the eye again.”

“Why ever not?” Legolas truly did not understand her embarrassment.

“He … I … Oh! You wouldn’t understand. And Haldir! He will never let me forget it. I behaved like … like …”

“One of my kind?” he finished for her, trying to contain his amusement.

“No,” she said in an exasperated tone. “Elves are much more dignified---I acted---“

“If Elves are so dignified,” he cut in, “Why were Elves your partners in what you consider your transgressions of the night?”

“I …” She could not think of an adequate reply. She reached up and began to once again wrap the silky strands of his hair about her fingers.

“You enjoyed having Erestor and Haldir help you quench your thirst did you not?”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice, after a long moment of silent consideration.

Alex continued to play with his hair. She liked it in its braids, but she loved it when his hair was worn loose. There was something a bit … wanton, she supposed, about her dignified Elven prince, when his hair hung loose; possibly because he usually only wore it that way when they were in bed together or bathing. The rest of the time, it was perfectly neat and braided.

“Why did you not take me while we were there?” she finally asked.

“But I did,” he replied with a smile, his fingers continuing to stroke her belly, moving down to her hip.

“No, I meant later. I was ready to do anything with you. I didn’t care who was around or who saw us. Why didn’t you do it?”

He thought for a moment. “Because you would have been even more embarrassed than you are right now,” he said, “And I would spare you that. Besides,” he added, “I knew that once I began, I would not be able to stop and we would need space, in addition to privacy.”

She sighed. “Everyone will think I am---“

“A passionate woman?” Her husband laughed. “They already know that, my love.” He kissed her again. “Come, my sweet. Let us bathe and dress and face the world.”

“I’ll never be able to face any of your kin ever again,” she sighed, but allowed him to drag her from the bed. He pulled on some clothes and she dropped a casual gown over her head, then they made their way to the bathing pool. Alex managed to smile and greet the few people they saw on the way without dying of embarrassment. When they arrived at the pool, Rumil and Charika were just getting dressed.

“You look happy,” Alex told Charika with a smile. Indeed, her friend seemed almost like her old self.

“I am happy,” the other woman replied, glancing over to where Rumil and Legolas were talking.

“No … nightmares?” Alex did not know what else to call them.

Charika shook her head. “Not lately. None have come to me when I lay in my lord’s arms. I only wish … I wish I could remember more.”

“What do you remember?” Alex asked, pulling off her gown and slipping into the pool. Charika sat next to the water’s edge.

“I remember bits and pieces of my earlier life, like where I grew up; that I was in a harem in Harad; that my lord took me to the village for safety to … to keep me away from the monster. I remember you coming and your lord was a vague presence at times. I remember Rumil and … his other brother---Orophin?---coming to get me, with others of their kind. I remember being so terrified,” she laughed. “I could not imagine being sought by Elves. Then Orophin showed me the dagger and told me you had sent them for me and I was not as frightened. My lord’s smile helped.” She cast another tender glance at Rumil.

Alex smiled at the memory of Charika’s journey to Ithilien. The woman had stayed with her and Legolas until the small cottage some distance from the largest concentration of Elves was built. Rumil’s interest in the woman had been quite discrete and it was not until after the war with the Eastern Alliance that it became common knowledge.

“I remember dwelling in Ithilien and being happy, especially when my lord was with me. Then,” a shadow crossed her face, “there was darkness and pain and the monster took me. There was more darkness and more pain and I remember your lord comforting me. But the beautiful beast took me from him and … I do not remember anything but pain and fear. Then, I was here and I had new masters; but the monster followed me and taunted me and told me he was my true master and he would one day come for me because nothing escaped him.” She looked at Alexandra. “He will come for your lord as well---he has been seen and marked by the beast.”

“Marked how?” Alex could not resist. So much of what Charika said was true; just the way she said it was odd. It did not escape her notice that the other woman did not mention having borne a child.

“He has seen him. He never forgets something that he craves, and the Butcher craves your husband.”

“He will not have him,” Alex said to herself. She smiled. “Everyone craves my husband,” she said with a laugh. “Just look at him.” Legolas had undressed but not yet entered the pool. The sight of his body, no matter how much she saw it, never failed to arouse her. Charika followed her gaze and laughed along with her.

“It is true; the Elves are so beautiful. I can see why others yearn for them. I do not know why my people feared them.”

“Everyone fears the unknown,” Alex said as Rumil came over and took Charika’s hand, helping her to stand. Legolas swam over to Alex and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She sighed and kissed him, bidding the other couple farewell. She was dimly aware of being surprised that her husband was once again in the mood for sport. Still she had no objections and soon lost track of all conscious thought in her beloved’s arms.


Helcarin, Orophin, Haldir and Glorfindel accompanied Sarendir as he and some of the other Elves gathered provisions for the trip to Goroth’s keep. Though the keep had not been destroyed or even emptied, it was possible some scavengers had taken some things and items like food and fresh water may be scarce.

The others filled Helcarin in on the battle with Goroth and his minions and once again, he felt a pang of regret at having missed sharing so many things with his kin. Still, he did not regret his time in the north. Sometimes he felt as though he should be two Elves instead of one, so that he could have stayed with his fathers and still gone to the land of his mother.

“What happened to Goroth’s body?” Haldir asked as he secured a pack containing blankets.

“It was … destroyed,” Sarendir said vaguely, looking at a list of required items and mentally checking them off.

“He was not buried?” Glorfindel asked, surprised. Elves always buried their dead when a body was available.

“No,” Sarendir replied, rolling the list and tucking it back into his belt. “He did not deserve the honor of having his body preserved.”

“So he will never be able to leave the Halls of Waiting,” Orophin said.

“I doubt he was even allowed into the Halls,” Sarendir said with a wry smile. “More than likely, he was cast into the void.”

“Or he could have refused Mandos’ call completely,” Helcarin said. The others looked at him. “If he was as arrogant as you have all said, and thought himself an equal of the Valar, then he may have simply not gone to the Halls.”

“Then the Halls are not polluted with his presence,” Sarendir replied. The western Elves looked at each other.

“Was he reviled by many of your people?” Glorfindel asked, lifting another of the inventoried packs and placing it in the neat stack where it would be ready to be placed on the horses the following morning before departure.

Sarendir paused and leaned against the building’s wall and looked at his fair, beautiful kinsmen from the west.

“Goroth betrayed us; kept us from the Valar and from our brethren. He committed atrocities against his own kind, and those we should have been protecting became our prey. He took us and turned us into something no less twisted than the Orcs we all so despise. And many of us knew no better. So many generations were born and died that thought, ‘This is the way of our people; this is what it means to be an Elf.’ But we were wrong. I love those of my brethren with mortal blood no less than those few of us who still have pure Elven blood; but they should never have been born, many of them. They were the products, in many cases, of rape, abuse and torment of the mortals who dwelt in this land---the people we should have been watching over. They were used to further his evil ways because they were expendable; he could always make more.

“I can remember mortal females being kept simply for breeding, and then when they could no longer produce viable offspring, they were never seen again. It was sickening then, and what disgusts me even more is that so many of us did nothing about it because we had become so accustomed to that simply being the way things were. I am not proud of my people or what we have done, and if Goroth’s spirit, and those of the ones who remained loyal to his debauched and disgusting regime, spend eternity never finding peace, then it is only a small penance in the tremendous debt all of my kind now owes.”

The western Elves were shocked by the vehemence of their friend’s words. The raw pain in his voice was apparent, even though, to a casual listener, his words were delivered coolly and without passion.

Sarendir could sense their dismay and smiled. “Forgive me, my friends. The … misdeeds of my kin are abhorrent to me. It is, I suppose, simply guilt.”

“All have made mistakes,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “None of us are perfect and to expect perfection in others is unrealistic.”

“Thank you,” Sarendir said. “But some mistakes have more lasting consequences than others. I only hope to be able to try to make some amends for my own misdeeds and those of my kin.”

“You are not alone in that wish, my friend,” Vanurion’s voice came to them from the door of the building. He smiled as he entered, followed by Rumil and Legolas, each bringing another basket of supplies. “We all have much for which to atone.”

“You managed to remain more apart from Goroth’s influence than I,” Sarendir replied, taking the basket from the other Elf.

“Nonetheless, we share equally in the sins of our people,” Vanurion countered. “Whether we transgressed by action or inaction, we are equally culpable. We have fallen far from the ways of Eru.”

“But Eru has not abandoned you,” Helcarin said with conviction. “You are the Firstborn Children of Iluvatar and are as worthy of Eru’s grace as any other. It grieves me to think you are burdened by memories of the past.”

Vanurion was struck by how similar the northern Elf’s words were to those he had heard from Legolas’ wife a few years earlier. Still, the grief over past misdeeds was not easy to relinquish.

“We have much to answer for,” the Lord of the Elves of Rhun replied.

“But you have done much to counter Goroth’s influence,” Rumil said. “You have helped those in need, sheltered those with no home, defended those without protection. You have helped your people---Elf-kind and mortal---to rise above the decadence of your former leader.”

Vanurion and his kinsman exchanged looks. Shaking his head, he replied, “But we still have so much more to answer for. We have blood on our hands that should never have been there---the blood of Elves, of mortals, of Orc, of creatures and beings that may never be known of in the west. We will never know the peace of the Blessed Realm and can only hope to ameliorate Mandos’ judgment of our kind.” He laughed bitterly. “I am only the leader by default. I took the position because none of the rest wanted to be so near the temptation of such power. Or, more to the point, none wanted to be the one responsible for our race; to answer for us.”

“Why did you take it?” Legolas asked.

“I told you---.”

“No, you told us why others did not take on the role. Why did you do it?” The prince could see their friends were heavily burdened. For all of the easy manners and carefree ways of the east, he could often see shadows darkening the eyes of some of the eastern Elves. Vanurion, as their reluctant leader, seemed particularly prone to those brief interludes of sadness. Of course, all of the Rhunian Elves hid their feelings behind their friendly smiles, but sometimes …

“Because Goroth was the brother of my father; because we shared some of the same blood and I felt responsible; because … I wanted to help my people.” He stared at the floor. “Because I, too, have much to atone for.”

“Your sin is no greater than mine,” Sarendir said quietly, putting a hand on Vanurion’s shoulder.

“What have you done that would cause such a burden of guilt?” Orophin asked. In truth, the two Elves seemed to fairly radiate despair at the moment.

Vanurion and Sarendir exchanged glances, then the Rhunian lord spoke. “We were both kinsmen of Goroth---Sarendir was his grandson---and so were both bound to him by blood. We … fought many battles for him against enemies both mortal and … unnatural, knowing the warriors we led were, many of them, of no true value to him and we … did not care for them as good commanders should. We tried, but Goroth had sired many of them and if he did not see their worth, then why should we?”

Sarendir gave a bitter laugh. “My … grandfather expected all of the males of his House and those allied with him to breed with mortal women---some of them living with their families in Rhun, others … kept by Goroth for that purpose---to keep the supply of warriors ‘fresh’, if you will. They were our children and the children of our kin and we betrayed them.”

The western Elves remained silent and impassive, though the confessions of their friends filled them with horror. They could not imagine what life was like living so far from the influence of the Valar and so they tried not to judge their eastern kin too harshly.

“Eventually, though, some of us began to see there was something terribly wrong with what we were doing,” Vanurion continued. “Goroth dealt with dissention swiftly, so we learned we could not openly defy him. We were both nuruil long before the name became simply another term for Goroth’s rapists. We … eliminated problems, and in the beginning, it was necessary. But then he began ordering our own people executed and began using the nuruil for torture as well as execution.” The revulsion in his tone was evident.

“I suppose he began turning over those particular duties to those who had mortal blood because he somehow felt it unworthy of an Elf.” Sarendir shook his head. “That he should have scruples about such a thing is ironic. He, of course, did not mind taking others by force---he simply did not perform his own executions.”

Legolas and the others said nothing, but he and his friends were acutely aware of Alexandra’s brush with Goroth and his … executioners. Helcarin was the only one who did not know the details, but he could sense the anger and disgust in his kinsmen.

“So,” Vanurion said with a sad smile. “We have much to answer for and have done much that Eru may forgive, but the Valar will not. We will not be allowed into the Blessed Realm and will never again see those of our kin who have passed beyond this plain of existence. This is the only time we will have with those of you from the west for soon you will all be gone as well. That is one reason we wish to learn all we can from you---for you are beloved of the Valar.”

His words touched his listeners and the infinite sadness they conveyed was heartbreaking.

“You may yet see those who have passed on,” said Glorfindel quietly. “The ways of Eru and the Valar are not always clear. They may yet grant redemption.” He noticed Helcarin seemed lost in thought and was suddenly struck by a premonition: his son would remain here and he would likely never see him again---only by Eru’s grace would Helcarin be together with his fathers in Valinor. The realization struck him like a blow and it was all he could do to maintain his bearing. Siensia had said he and Erestor would both be passed long into the Undying Lands before the true purpose of their gift from the Valar would be fulfilled, but Glorfindel’s own gift of clairvoyance had given him a glimpse of what that purpose might be and he was overwhelmed by both wonder and sorrow.

Vanurion smiled. “You are correct, my friend. We should not question the will of Iluvatar. As Prince Legolas’ wife once told me, Eru’s grace is infinite.”

They completed their preparations for the journey to Goroth’s keep, then each went to attend his own business before joining the rest for dinner.


Erestor was aware of the passage of time, but he was completely immersed in the documents and scrolls and books of the Rhunian Elves. Durisia sorted them by age---she knew more about the timeline of her people than he did. Then he would further sort them by topic. Both of them catalogued as the countless volumes were slowly organized.

The eastern elleth gathered up the next pile of scrolls and brought them to the huge desk where Erestor sat. She knelt beside him and put them in an organized stack just to the left of the table. As she laid the scrolls neatly, one atop the other, she settled down, her skirts spread around her. She glanced up at the handsome Noldo and smiled. He was concentrating on his work and she knew she could strip completely naked and he would not be distracted---although she gave serious thought to trying it.

She leaned against his leg and laid her head on his thigh, closing her eyes. Erestor let one of his hands drop from where he held the parchment and began to stroke her hair, his elegant fingers wrapping in the black, silky locks that were so similar to his. The feel of her head against his thigh, the warmth of her fingers as she gently ran them along his leg just above his boot, the scent of limes and sunshine that he had come to associate with her---all of these things were strangely comforting to him and he could not help but allow himself a small smile.

Durisia liked the way his fingers felt as they combed through her hair slowly. He had such a delicate touch. She had been surprised, when they had first lain together, at how he combined such restraint with obvious power. She wondered what he would be like if he allowed his Elven self-discipline to slip; what he would be like in the grip of pure abandoned passion. Then again, she knew he would be one to fear if he were to ever release his rage. He was quite an enigma, this dark Elf of the west, and something in him called to her.

He was normally quiet, especially around others, but had taken to telling her about the history of his people. His anecdotes were sometimes sad, but most were infused with a dry humor that belied his serious demeanor. When coming across interesting passages in the documents they were cataloguing he was quite willing to teach her about the things she did not fully understand. She, in turn, explained the history of her people and was able to tell him the circumstances surrounding some of the events chronicled in the papers. Erestor would put it into perspective by then telling her of what was occurring in the west of Middle-Earth at the time so they could both have the entire picture of any given document’s historical place.

She wrapped her arms around the strong muscles of his thigh and kissed it through the fabric of his leggings. She did not try to seduce him; she knew it would not work. If Erestor was concentrating on something, she could not imagine what would distract him. But when he decided to indulge his desire, she knew it would also be the focus of his formidable attention, and she would know such exquisite pleasure …

Erestor could feel himself being drawn from what appeared to be a letter to Goroth from one of the mortal leaders of Rhun, dated over 900 years earlier. As fascinating as tribute in grain might be, Durisia’s touch and scent and the memory of her warm body wrapped around his, called a little louder than the dusty parchment. He shifted subtly in the chair and Durisia smoothed her hands over his thighs as she slipped between them. She looked up and her breath caught as he smiled down at her.

He brushed his fingers along her cheek and she laid her head in his lap. “It is time to join the others for dinner,” he said softly, though neither was really hungry.

“Then we should probably go,” she said, her fingertip lightly tracing the lines of the muscles of his thigh.

“Yes,” he replied, cupping her chin and lifting her head as he lowered his own. Their lips met and he slid his hand behind her head, wrapping his fingers in her glossy black braid.

Durisia sighed and her lips parted as Erestor’s tongue delicately touched the tip of hers, then drew back, leaving her wanting more. She lifted her hands to grip his wrists as he adroitly teased her mouth and he slipped one hand down to caress her back, pulling her up against his body. He lifted her onto the desk, their mouths continuing their lazy dance, and let both of his hands move down to caress her hips before slowly pushing her skirt up so his deft fingers could stroke her sleek thighs.

The Rivendell counselor stood as Durisia unfastened his tunic. As their kiss broke she leaned against him, her mouth moving over his chest to capture one of his pebble-like nipples, sucking gently, her teeth lightly biting the sensitive flesh. He smiled and closed his eyes as his strong hands kneaded her thighs, pushing them a little further apart. Erestor once again wrapped one hand in her hair so he could pull her head back. His kiss was commanding and she willingly yielded to him.

Later, when they joined the others in the dining hall, they found themselves sitting next to Cunion and Glorfindel. They discussed preparations for the trip to Goroth’s keep the next day and Glorfindel could see his quiet friend was quite looking forward to the journey. He was glad to see something had caught Erestor’s interest---not just the documents, either. Since the counselor had begun working with Durisia, he had seemed so much more … engaged than in the past several years.

“I can’t go in there,” Alex told Legolas as they approached the door to the dining hall. She hung back and he sighed mentally. Gripping her arm, he pulled her into an alcove just off the main corridor and held her by her shoulders forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Alexandra, you must stop worrying so much about things like this. What does it matter what we do among friends? They do not mind. Why should you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I am trying, Legolas. I just … I’m afraid what people will think about me---that they’ll think I’m not … not a good wife.”

He shook his head. “No, my love. Our friends know that if you are anything at all, you are a good wife.” He kissed her forehead. “You are a very good wife, my love. Now, come. Let us eat.” Taking her hand, he led her to the dining hall. She smiled and seemed at ease; only Legolas was aware of how tightly she gripped his hand.