In Twilight

A/N: The POV of this story changes three times; it begins from Legolas' POV, switches to third person, then switches again to Elladan's POV. The tenses change to accordingly. I hope this doesn't annoy anyone. The title refers to Boromir, who makes an appearance in this story.

Thanks again to Ilye for beta reading!

/ / denotes thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~ denotes changes in scene or POV.


Chapter 14: Journey to One’s Fall
Summary: Within the woods of Lothlorien, Legolas finds himself grieving for Gandalf, and craving the comforting caresses of his lover; but there is someone else who wishes for the touch of the elf (Boromir/Legolas; Legolas‘ POV, Elladan‘s POV).

On any other occasion, it would have been a pleasure for me to visit Lothlorien, the home of my lover’s mother. But, at this particular time in my life, even the Golden Wood cannot lift my spirits. For we, the remaining members of the Fellowship, are here now but without Mithrandir. He was our guide, but he was also a good deal more. He was a friend to Aragorn and I, and perhaps more than a friend to the Hobbits. Now he is gone.

We’ve come this far, and all we have gained is less distance between us and Mordor. What we have lost is a beloved friend and comrade. The loss, I feel, overshadows the gain. Though I will not pass into Mandos’ Halls, I still feel grief over losing someone I have known, and known well. I cannot even remember how long it has been since I’ve met the Istar. All I know for certain is that I’ve known Mithrandir longer than I’ve known Elladan. There is much that the wizard has taught me about the world over the years. He was a dear friend, and I miss him.

The night is quiet as I wander among the mellyrn in silent contemplation. Even though I am mourning, I am not able to dismiss the serenity and comfort I feel among the trees here. It is a feeling I have always relished in during my visits, and it lightens my heart. But this visit is different from the rest; the companions I bring with me are different. They are not elves, not my siblings or friends, but four little Hobbits, a Dwarf and two Men. When was the last time I was in the company of another elf? In Imladris? How long ago was that? It seems like years, but it was just a few months, I believe. It must feel like forever ago to the Hobbits perhaps. Even for me, one who does not particularly feel the passage of time, it seems as if I have not seen the valley for many years. My heart aches as I remember the last time I was there.

Haldir, my dear friend, has tried to comfort me since my arrival. His brother, Orophin, has tried harder; he knows best what it is I am feeling. It is not homesickness; though I do miss the Greenwood, I miss something more. The touch of a lover, the whispers of endearment; I miss them the most. Of my friends in Lorien, only Orophin knows the melancholy I feel, only he knows it best of the three brothers. For it is he who holds the heart of my lover’s twin; in such a way, the pair of us have a great understanding of the other’s inner turmoil. He has tried to comfort me, but understands that it is not his company I crave. Thus, I walk alone beneath the mellyrn alone this night.

I do not venture far from my companions, staying within an elf’s listening distance. I must seem far away to the others since they are unable to hear or see me, but they are very close from my standpoint. We need each other’s strength and company from this point on, but I crave some time alone for the moment. I will rejoin them later when I feel more composed and collected. My hand wanders up the front of my tunic, seeking for something hidden behind the shimmering fabric. The sudden feeling of being watched alerts me even before I hear the snap of a twig. I freeze in place before glancing over my shoulder to see who is disturbing my quiet thoughts.

I expected Aragorn or one of the Hobbits, but instead it is Boromir. There is a look in his eyes that I do not particularly like. Humans have never frightened me; my father has befriended many small human tribes and frequently trades goods with them. Most men that I have known have been honorable, much like Aragorn. But there are some with which my senses have screamed at me to be cautious and alert should I be alone with them. Boromir has never been one of those men; even during our trifling argument in Elrond’s court, he seemed honorable. But now I find my intuition screaming at me to move. There is a look in his eyes this moment I find very…predatory. I turn back and try to walk away, but his voice forces me come to a to halt again.

“Wait, Legolas.” My feet cease their moment, but I do not face him just yet. Why do I stop when he calls me? Perhaps I feel compelled to. Perhaps I feel that my intuition is wrong, just this once. I hope it is so. Again I turn to him; the hand previously searching my tunic drops slowly to my side. Yet my guard is up, just in case. “You are grieving.”

I nod once. “Aren’t you?”

It is his turn to nod. “Do you wish for some company?” I am tempted to refuse him; I do not wish to share my grief with others. It is not my nature to grieve before others, even my lover. I remain quiet as nsidnsider how to answer. He takes my hesitation as an affirmative and steps closer. I will myself not to step back, not to seem affected by the closeness of his presence; my intuition tells me to run but I dare not move yet. “You grieve for Gandalf,” he says.

“We all do,” I reply. “He was our guide on this quest, and a dear friend.”

“You knew him long?”

I nod. Long is an understatement really, I’ve known him much longer than the others could ever dream. “He always possessed a good ear. And he always gave wise council. We elves were fond of the news he would bring us. We will forever grieve this loss.” Silence passes between us. I avert my eyes as I feel the tendrils of mourning possess me again. When he speaks again, I feel my eyes drawn back to his face; I do not like the intense gaze he is giving me.

“You miss more than just Gandalf,” he states. It is becoming harder to suppress the urge to run as Boromir takes another step closer. His eyes are searching mine for something; what is he looking for? My hands clench into fists as I force down a shudder and maintain eye contact.

“What are you implying, Boromir?” He takes a third step forward; now he is too close for my liking, and I step back. Why is he pressing me like this? What is it he wants? I cannot maintain eye contact with him any longer. There is something unsettling in Boromir’s eyes; it sends faint wisps of fright over my skin. I step back again as he steps forward, feeling the aged trunk of a mallorn press against my back. My eyes dart around, looking for a means to move away. But before I can act, Boromir closes the distance between us, pinning me in place with his body.

“Do not fear me,” he whispers into my ear. “I mean you no harm. I have only come to comfort you.”

“I am not in need of comfort.” I raise my hands to push him away, a task easily done had he not taken hold of wrists. Jerking against his hands, I attempt to free myself while not causing him too much injury. Why do I suddenly feel so panicked in his presence? Just what is he wants that I am so unwilling to comply with? I look into his eyes, and realization dawns on me a little too late. “I think we should return to the others, Boromir.” Again, I attempt to free myself, this time applying more force to my movements. But he unrelenting and presses his body harder against mine, further pinning me between himself and the tree.

“What are you frightened of?” I can feel his warm breath against the skin of my neck, and I shiver at the unwanted contact of his lips just grazing my skin. “I have no intention of hurting you. I only want to give you comfort and ease your pain.”

“There is no need.”

“Why do you deny me?” He has raised his voice slightly, whether it is due to frustration or anger I cannot tell. I do not want to stay and find out.

“Because this is not what I want! Now kindly let me go.” Something primal flashes in his eyes. His movements are more feral now as he attempts to rid me of my clothing. I am soon grappling with him, trying to prevent him from getting what he wants, and what all elves fear. I cannot let him have his way with me--I will not! I am no maiden who would succumb to his charms and sweet voice. I am an elf, a prince, a warrior, and I have already pledged myself to another. I will not betray my lover, unwillingly or no. I will not allow another to possess me against my will and travel to Mandos’ Halls before my time!

He is having a difficult time restraining me, his movements becoming more frenzied as he becomes more desperate. But he is unable to subdue me. Elves are more slender in shape, more fragile looking than men. But we possess a greater strength and can easily overwhelm those who try to restrain us. I know I can do a great deal of injury to Boromir should I wish. But he, like I, am part of this Fellowship to protect Frodo; harming him to incapability is not an option for me. I strike out, one of my fists pummeling against his chesth enh enough force for him to release me. Boromir issues a pained wheeze and staggers a few steps back even as he succeeds in opening my tunic.

The moonlight streaming in through the leaves overhead glitters upon the mithril ring around my neck. The sight of my beloved’s gift seems to freeze him in his tracks; his eyes transfix themselves upon the simple piece of jewelry. Does it remind him of the ring Frodo carries? I do not stay to ponder the matter. The moment he releases me, I run and disappear into the trees. I hear him call after me but I do not respond, nor do I cease my running. I have always suspected that he was being tempted by the Ring. What did it promise him? Fame? Glory? The throne of Gondor? Me? I shudder to think of the possibilities and what might have passed between us.

I run back towards the others, towards camp. But I am unable to tell if I am going in the right direction for tears have welled up in my eyes; my other senses, however, assure me I am on the right path as I can no longer see once the tears begin to fall. I raise an arm to wipe them away, and end up colliding with another body. Strong arms gently wrap themselves about me as a soothing voice whispers into my ear.

“Legolas, meldir.” It is Orophin. Hearing a shuffle from behind him, I raise my eyes to see Haldir and Rumil gazing back at me with concerned looks upon their faces. I feel a tug at my hand; when I glance down, there is Gimli with a similar concerned look. My mind barely registers the amazement at finding the three Galadhrim in the Dwarf’s company before I give in to the sobs that are beginning to overwhelm my body. Sinking against Orophin, I grip his tunic in a white-knuckled hold, and bury my face into his shoulder to hide my tears.

Oh Elladan! How I need you know. How I wish you were here and holding me. Elbereth, please, let me be reunited with my moon soon. I need him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gimli blinked in disbelief as he watched Legolas being consumed by his grief, the elf sinking bonelessly against Orophin as the Galadhrim whispered words of comfort in the elvish tongue. The dwarf wasn’t yet ready to admit it, but he respected Legolas for his prowess and strength in battle. The archer’s accurate aim saved them all during the trek through Moria, and he was beginning to learn things about Legolas that contradicted Gimli’s earlier feelings toward elves in general.

Upon noticing his companion missing from the campsite, Gimli had gone looking for Legolas but quickly became lost in the woods of Lorien. Unexpectedly, he had run into Haldir and his brothers, the very same elves who almost refused the Fellowship admittance into the Golden Wood because of Gimli’s presence among them. The dwarf was about to tell them off in both the common tongue and that of the dwarves, but decided not to upon learning the three were also looking for Legolas. Deciding it best to go along with the brothers, Gimli was not all that surprised to learn they were old friends with the archer from Mirkwood. It had been a surprise to learn that both Legolas and Haldir’s eldest kinsmen had each fallen for one of Elrond’s sons. Gimli had never realized his elven companion had someone other than family waiting for him to return from this quest.

“Will he be all right?” the dwarf tentatively asked the nearest Galadhrim. Rumil bestowed upon him a small smile, and patted Gimli’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Aye, Master Dwarf, he will be,” the youngest brother replied. “Our young prince here can be rather emotional at times, but he would never dare let his feelings show in his outward appearance. He will be touchy with us for the next few days when he comes to his senses and realizes we have seen him cry.” Gimli nodded as he continued to watch Orophin comfort Legolas. He reminded himself later to speak with the archer on a number of matters.

/He could use a friend right about now,/ Gimli thought. /And I intend to be that friend./ He frowned slightly at the thought. A dwarf befriending an elf? Unheard of! But not impossible. /This friendship just might work./

~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t sleep. The night is clear and the watchmen are wide awake; there othiothing that should trouble me. Yet my mind is troubled, though I cannot place my finger on the source of the uneasiness I feel. I cannot remain still any longer. Rising from my bedroll, I deftly pass my brother and the company of sleeping Dunedain to find a quiet spot for myself. Passing Halbarad as he keeps watch, I find a large smooth rock in a partially secluded area that allows me a view of the clear night sky. It is just large enough ccomccommodate my frame as I stretch out on my back upon the aged stone. Staring up at the Ithil and the stars, I allow my mind to drift.

It has been months since my sun left Imladris to travel with the Fellowship on their quest. Not long afterwards, Elrohir and I rode to the Redhorn Pass to make sure the passage was safe for all those who wished to travel through. Sometime later, we rode to the borders of the Shire to accompany the Northern Dunedain in watching the little people; Estel had feared that since Frodo possessed the Ring, harm might come to his homeland. Thus far, nothing has happened, and the Dunedain have talked about turning back to Imladris for some rest and to ask Ada for a bit of guidance. Elrohir is happy about the prospect of returning home, even for a short stay. I suppose I am as well.

But my mind is elsewhere, wherever he is. I wonder how far Legolas and the Fellowship have traveled by now. Surely they are past Hithaeglir at this point; how far South have they journeyed? Lorien? They might be in Gondor now, if speed was with them. I pray to Elbereth that, wherever they are, the Valar are keeping them safe.

I sigh deeply as I feel the night air caress my exposed skin, playing with my hair. Legolas…how do you fare? What troubles have you seen and what awaits you? When you accepted my father’s proposal to join the Fellowship, did you intend to stop at Minas Tirith, or accompany Frodo Baggins all the way to Oroduin? I fear for you, melme; I fear for us both. The future is uncertain at this point. Tomorrow is an uncertainty, and each day after that brings upon us more troubles and questions. But know that I love you, and I always will.

My ring glitters in the moonlight as I raise my hand to gaze at the band; it seems to shine more brightly when I think of you, and that brings a smile to my face. Legolas, ithil-nîn, wherever you are I will always be with you. I miss you terribly, and wish for the day we will be reunited to come quickly. But, until then, until the day I am able to bind myself to you, my soul will be where you are. Have faith in us, in me; I will always protect you. Trust in the promise that binds us. I will see you again.

Translations:
Meldir-Friend
Ada-Father
Hithaeglir-Sindarin for Misty Moutains
Melme-Love
Ithil-nîn-My moon