All I Have Left
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,120
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,120
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Epilogue
Title: All I Have Left: Epilogue
Author: Enismirdal
Pairing: Eluréd/Elurín
Rating: R
Warnings: Twincest
Thanks to Tux for the readthrough, for putting up with this for literally years and for being a continual inspiration!
Disclaimer: They're not my characters; they're Tolkien's. Go him for inventing them! No profit made, no disrespect intended to the Professor or his works.
Summary: After the attack on Doriath, the twin sons of Dior were taken by Celegorm's servants and abandoned in the wood to starve. But their fate was never confirmed...
A/N: Naath's challenge was to complete the set: Elladan/Elrohir, Elrond/Elros…and Eluréd/Elurín.
***
Eluréd turned his gaze from the open water as a light crunch of feet on the shell-strewn high tide mark indicated the arrival of his brother. No doubt the younger twin had been searching for him for a while; Eluréd had left before dawn, needing space to think and reflect.
Seeing that Eluréd had kicked his boots off and was sitting with his feet in the chill water, Elurín did the same, but sprang back with a yelp. “That is icy!” he exclaimed. “How are your feet not blue?”
“You get used to it,” Eluréd replied, a smile touching his lips. Elurín squeezed on to the jagged rock beside him and Eluréd put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Elurín was warm - he must have been running on the beach - and his hair was whipped up by the breeze into a whole new definition of wild. Eluréd pressed his face into it and inhaled; it smelled salty. Salt was not Elurín; his brother normally smelled of dry leaves and rain. “The sea is strange,” Eluréd remarked softly. “Celeborn said that once I saw the sea it would awaken in me a longing I did not know I possessed. He was wrong.”
“You were always an odd one,” Elurín observed, smiling and kissing him just beneath one ear.
“Maybe so,” Eluréd agreed. “I think perhaps it is just that I have my heart’s desire already.” He ran his fingertips over Elurín’s cheek. “I had a dream last night.”
Elurín seemed to tense slightly. “What was it about?”
“Do you remember on the bank of Aros, almost in Estorlad, there is - was - that hillside where we stumbled upon that clearing in the hazel grove?” Elurín nodded silently; they had both remarked on the beauty and sense of tranquility there. Eluréd continued, “I was there, in the dream, and two figures stepped from the trees. One was dressed in brown and green; she was wearing this garland in her hair, made from berries. She kissed me on the forehead...” He rubbed the place unconsciously as if expecting to feel a mark there. “And said her name was Yavanna.”
“Palúrien,” Elurín murmured.
Eluréd nodded. “The other said he was Irmo Lórien, master of dreams. I could believe it; he was so pale, sort of eldritch. Then Yavanna said I must make a choice...”
Elurín interrupted then, speaking as if quoting from memory. “In your line you count both Beren of the House of Bëor, and Lúthien, daughter of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia. Three strains of blood flow within you, and this was not a fate we intended. You must choose now, son of Dior Eluchîl, whether to be counted among the First or Secondborn. Such is your destiny.”
“You had the same dream,” Eluréd realised. He felt himself grow suddenly cold; the water that just minutes before had not bothered him was all of a sudden making his toes curl with chill. He drew his feet out from the water and tucked his knees under his chin as he did when unconsciously fearing something. “What was your choice?” His voice shocked him with its steadiness, when in fact no question he had ever asked of his brother had been harder.
Elurín looked back at him, expression open, honest and almost painfully loyal. “There was no choice. All the times we have been among Men I have felt occasional liking but no...kinship. The Edhil are our people; they always were. I was sure that if it was real, more than just a strange dream, you would have chosen the same.”
The sentence hung between them, its inherent plea hard to miss. Eluréd almost collapsed in relief and pulled Elurín into his arms for a kiss. “Yes...and no...” he said finally. “I asked Yavanna, what about you. She said your choice was made already but that it was not her place to tell me. So... I told her that whatever your fate was, I chose to share it.” He closed his eyes. “Even if that would be mortality and death.”
Elurín smiled reverently. “You truly are the greatest gift I could ask for.” He paused, recalling something else. “There was another half to the dream.”
“Oh?” Eluréd had not had anything more than that, and wondered if perhaps Elurín’s continuation had been a result of his choice.
The younger twin nodded. “Simply...Yavanna’s reminder that Aman was created for all the Quendi - including me and, equally, you.”
Eluréd shrugged. “Would you want to see it?” His heart clung to these shores; he felt no urge to cross that wide, unknown sea to that graceful land of cultured, petty Elves and their luxurious lives.
Elurín appeared ambivalent. “I am curious, a little - but no more about there than anywhere else. We still have so much to see this side of the ocean.”
Smiling, Eluréd stood, picking up his discarded boots and leading the way back across the sand. Elurín’s hand found his free one and he squeezed it lovingly. “You know my soul belongs here.”
“I know it,” Elurín agreed. They left two parallel lines of footprints as they walked up the beach, glancing back a few times, just to admire the view. Sounds of hammering and shouting could be heard from the harbour half a mile down the coast, where graceful white ships - dozens of them - were being crafted by the most skilled of the shipwrights this side of the Great Sea. Eluréd had visited already, learning about seafaring and the journey plans so many others were forming, all the while feeling strangely removed from it. As if the bright and busy work had no connection to him.
And so it did not. They skirted the dunes that edged the beach, following a sandy path that led into a flower meadow just beyond, and from there into a birch copse - and then into ancient oak and elm woodland.
There, Eluréd felt himself take a deep breath, as if the air under the trees was fresher somehow and more wholesome. To him it smelled sweet, warm and familiar.
Elurín, beside him, smiled. This was where they were meant to be.
Eluréd closed his eyes, absorbing the surroundings; the cool moss beneath his still-bare feet, the dappled, green-tinged light; the soft, reassuring noises of leaves in the faint breeze, and birds both close and distant. “All we ever needed is here,” he said. Elurín’s hand, still holding his, tightened in agreement; nothing more was needed to show his accordance. “As long as the Great Lands have green forests, as long as the sun still rises and the meadows still flower in spring, this is our place, where we belong... This is our land and our home...is everywhere here.”
~ THE END ~
Author: Enismirdal
Pairing: Eluréd/Elurín
Rating: R
Warnings: Twincest
Thanks to Tux for the readthrough, for putting up with this for literally years and for being a continual inspiration!
Disclaimer: They're not my characters; they're Tolkien's. Go him for inventing them! No profit made, no disrespect intended to the Professor or his works.
Summary: After the attack on Doriath, the twin sons of Dior were taken by Celegorm's servants and abandoned in the wood to starve. But their fate was never confirmed...
A/N: Naath's challenge was to complete the set: Elladan/Elrohir, Elrond/Elros…and Eluréd/Elurín.
***
Eluréd turned his gaze from the open water as a light crunch of feet on the shell-strewn high tide mark indicated the arrival of his brother. No doubt the younger twin had been searching for him for a while; Eluréd had left before dawn, needing space to think and reflect.
Seeing that Eluréd had kicked his boots off and was sitting with his feet in the chill water, Elurín did the same, but sprang back with a yelp. “That is icy!” he exclaimed. “How are your feet not blue?”
“You get used to it,” Eluréd replied, a smile touching his lips. Elurín squeezed on to the jagged rock beside him and Eluréd put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Elurín was warm - he must have been running on the beach - and his hair was whipped up by the breeze into a whole new definition of wild. Eluréd pressed his face into it and inhaled; it smelled salty. Salt was not Elurín; his brother normally smelled of dry leaves and rain. “The sea is strange,” Eluréd remarked softly. “Celeborn said that once I saw the sea it would awaken in me a longing I did not know I possessed. He was wrong.”
“You were always an odd one,” Elurín observed, smiling and kissing him just beneath one ear.
“Maybe so,” Eluréd agreed. “I think perhaps it is just that I have my heart’s desire already.” He ran his fingertips over Elurín’s cheek. “I had a dream last night.”
Elurín seemed to tense slightly. “What was it about?”
“Do you remember on the bank of Aros, almost in Estorlad, there is - was - that hillside where we stumbled upon that clearing in the hazel grove?” Elurín nodded silently; they had both remarked on the beauty and sense of tranquility there. Eluréd continued, “I was there, in the dream, and two figures stepped from the trees. One was dressed in brown and green; she was wearing this garland in her hair, made from berries. She kissed me on the forehead...” He rubbed the place unconsciously as if expecting to feel a mark there. “And said her name was Yavanna.”
“Palúrien,” Elurín murmured.
Eluréd nodded. “The other said he was Irmo Lórien, master of dreams. I could believe it; he was so pale, sort of eldritch. Then Yavanna said I must make a choice...”
Elurín interrupted then, speaking as if quoting from memory. “In your line you count both Beren of the House of Bëor, and Lúthien, daughter of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia. Three strains of blood flow within you, and this was not a fate we intended. You must choose now, son of Dior Eluchîl, whether to be counted among the First or Secondborn. Such is your destiny.”
“You had the same dream,” Eluréd realised. He felt himself grow suddenly cold; the water that just minutes before had not bothered him was all of a sudden making his toes curl with chill. He drew his feet out from the water and tucked his knees under his chin as he did when unconsciously fearing something. “What was your choice?” His voice shocked him with its steadiness, when in fact no question he had ever asked of his brother had been harder.
Elurín looked back at him, expression open, honest and almost painfully loyal. “There was no choice. All the times we have been among Men I have felt occasional liking but no...kinship. The Edhil are our people; they always were. I was sure that if it was real, more than just a strange dream, you would have chosen the same.”
The sentence hung between them, its inherent plea hard to miss. Eluréd almost collapsed in relief and pulled Elurín into his arms for a kiss. “Yes...and no...” he said finally. “I asked Yavanna, what about you. She said your choice was made already but that it was not her place to tell me. So... I told her that whatever your fate was, I chose to share it.” He closed his eyes. “Even if that would be mortality and death.”
Elurín smiled reverently. “You truly are the greatest gift I could ask for.” He paused, recalling something else. “There was another half to the dream.”
“Oh?” Eluréd had not had anything more than that, and wondered if perhaps Elurín’s continuation had been a result of his choice.
The younger twin nodded. “Simply...Yavanna’s reminder that Aman was created for all the Quendi - including me and, equally, you.”
Eluréd shrugged. “Would you want to see it?” His heart clung to these shores; he felt no urge to cross that wide, unknown sea to that graceful land of cultured, petty Elves and their luxurious lives.
Elurín appeared ambivalent. “I am curious, a little - but no more about there than anywhere else. We still have so much to see this side of the ocean.”
Smiling, Eluréd stood, picking up his discarded boots and leading the way back across the sand. Elurín’s hand found his free one and he squeezed it lovingly. “You know my soul belongs here.”
“I know it,” Elurín agreed. They left two parallel lines of footprints as they walked up the beach, glancing back a few times, just to admire the view. Sounds of hammering and shouting could be heard from the harbour half a mile down the coast, where graceful white ships - dozens of them - were being crafted by the most skilled of the shipwrights this side of the Great Sea. Eluréd had visited already, learning about seafaring and the journey plans so many others were forming, all the while feeling strangely removed from it. As if the bright and busy work had no connection to him.
And so it did not. They skirted the dunes that edged the beach, following a sandy path that led into a flower meadow just beyond, and from there into a birch copse - and then into ancient oak and elm woodland.
There, Eluréd felt himself take a deep breath, as if the air under the trees was fresher somehow and more wholesome. To him it smelled sweet, warm and familiar.
Elurín, beside him, smiled. This was where they were meant to be.
Eluréd closed his eyes, absorbing the surroundings; the cool moss beneath his still-bare feet, the dappled, green-tinged light; the soft, reassuring noises of leaves in the faint breeze, and birds both close and distant. “All we ever needed is here,” he said. Elurín’s hand, still holding his, tightened in agreement; nothing more was needed to show his accordance. “As long as the Great Lands have green forests, as long as the sun still rises and the meadows still flower in spring, this is our place, where we belong... This is our land and our home...is everywhere here.”
~ THE END ~