What Cannot Be Had
Two
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*~Elrond~*
The
ship docks and I realize that, despite the overwhelming beauty and vastness of
the might sea, I will be glad for the stability of solid ground under my feet.
I knew not where Cirdan would take us now that we are ashore, but nonetheless I
followed him, leading Bilbo carefully as the sun made her circle in the sky,
and day faded into night.
I
close my eyes and tilt my face to the sky, inhaling deeply…perhaps the air is
purer here, untainted with evil or death…but if it is it escapes my notice;
there seems to be no difference between the breezes that swept Middle Earth and
the wind that sings through the trees here.
We
walk on through the night, but there is no impatience in my heart to arrive to
a haven. I find no overwhelming joy in my entrance at to the Undying Lands; for
me there will be only rest here. Yet, my mind falls on where I was, on what I
left behind: my sons, my daughter, my Legolas.
I
wonder what would have been had I not left Middle Earth with the Ring Bearers,
but I am not sure if I have the strength in me to watch the land fade, its
beauty diminish. I wonder what will come of those that remain; Elladan and
Elrohir stay in Imladris, and Legolas I know has gone to dwell in Ithilien. And
my Arwen…is she happy? Will she bear children? Perhaps she is with child right
now…
Bitterness
rises in my throat as I remind myself that I will never know. I will never hold
my daughter, round with child, hold the offspring of my offspring as Galadriel
had Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen, in turn. Instead I will wonder, perhaps
forever, unless some word of Elessar and Arwen reaches me from across the Sea.
I think, sometimes, I would rather that word would never come, and I would be
free to imagine to my own satisfaction.
No,
I admit to myself, I could not have stayed in Middle Earth. My time there is
over; I am weary, I want rest. Even though staying would have meant more years
of Legolas, I could not have watched Arwen fade as a mortal. At the thought of
the cold hand of death sweeping away my daughter into oblivion, I shudder.
Yes,
I decide. I have made the right choice.
We
reach a city in the Undying Lands. I have yet to learn its name, and presently
I find I care little. I raise my face once more to the sky, feeling starlight,
the blessing of my father, kiss my skin.
Celebrían
dwells there, waiting indifferently. I know not how she knew of my arrival, but
she knew. Her greeting was warm, but a greeting of a friend and not a greeting
of long parted lovers. It is as it was before, when she departed Middle Earth
we had parted our separate ways contentedly, and they would not merge again.
I
was led to my chamber, vast but unshared, and I was glad for I wished to be
alone with the stars for company only. The room was wide and nearly circular,
in a corner of the house, with a 180 degree view of the night skyline over the
river mouth.
I
perched on the sill with my legs dangling over the edge like a child, marveling
at the sky which for some reason had ensnared my fascination. It seemed nearly
the same as it did in Middle Earth; I wondered if Legolas and I gazed upon the
same stars at the same time. Perhaps he was in Ithilien, looking up at the sky.
I hoped he thought of me.
My
hand went to my pocket…yes it was still there. Before passing to the ship I
slipped a beech seed in my clothes, with the plan to take with me to Valinor. I
held no great love for the trees, but Legolas did, and once I saw him among
them I understood why. He was one with them, speaking to them and understanding
their replies, he was as tall and graceful as a young beech, strong, supple, and
able to withstand the strongest of storms. I needed something of Legolas to
take with me.
I
leapt from the window sill; it was a short drop to the soft earth below. A few
short paces into the empty land that lay outside of my window I knelt, pawing
through the supple, rich dirt with my bare hands until I had a small hole. From
my pocket I withdrew the small beech seed. I drop the morsel into the ground,
cover it, and wait.
Should
the Valar bless the little kernel of life that I brought with me, I would take
it as a sign that they would not curse my love for my Greenleaf, should he come
to Valinor.
*~Legolas~*
“If
I were not already well familiar with the balance of elves,”
Gimli’s
voice came from somewhere between my ankle and my knee:
“I
would reach up and pull you down to safety.”
On
my perch on the bow of the ship I turn and smile down at the dwarf, who peers
up at me with beady eyes nearly hidden by bushy eyebrows.
Estel
had reigned as the King of Men for 122 years, a long and strong reign of
goodness and peace. But he did not escape the Gift of Men, and had passed into
wherever the souls of men rest, on the first of March. His son, Eldarion, now
sat on the throne, and Arwen left her kingdom for solitude in the fading
Lothlorien, and I found I grew tired of what Middle Earth had to offer.
My
thoughts fell again on Elrond; for the past century I had tried to think of him
not to avoid grief, and had long debated the option of sailing to Valinor. For
the first fifty years I had been relatively successful, occupied with the
wonders of Ithilien and the joy that the coming of the woodland elves had
restored to the land. But as time wore on my mind fell on him more often; I
missed his voice and his touch, and my longing began to outweigh the happiness
of where I was presently.
After
the passing of Estel I knew it was time to depart, and the day I returned from mourning
in Minas Tirith I started the grey ship that would bear me over the sea, with
any who cared to accompany me.
Gimli
had chosen to accompany me though we knew not if the Valar would permit a dwarf
in the Undying Lands.
Anxiously
I watched at the bow of the ship everyday in search of a shore line.
After
the fall of the Numenor the shape of the Earth had changed; any ship headed by
a mortal would simply sail around and around on the sea, never leaving the
circles of the mortal lands. But the immortal, the First born, the elves, could
set sail toward the east and reach Valinor, the Undying Lands where evil and
sin were things of the past. I was worried that we would never reach our
destination, first of all because we bore a dwarf, and second of all because of
my illegal liaison with the elf lord.
On
the other hand, my logic argued, Elrond did not return to Middle Earth; what
else could be concluded except that he had arrived to the East?
Soknewknew not what to expect, and faithfully stood at the bow of the ship as she
plowed through the waves, sails full, hurtling toward what I knew not.
*~Elrond~*
In
time my seed had grown into a sapling, young, tender leaves reaching up and
hungry, translucent in sunlight.
I
watched it grow as the years passed, and eventually the branches could bear my
weight. I had never been one to climb trees (I left that to the more than capable
elves of Mirkwood and Lorien) but I could see past the delta far out over the
sea when I was high in the tree, concealed in the leaves.
In
my perch on high I saw a ship come in bearing my sons, Glorfindel, and
Celeborn, each bearing news of Middle Earth, of Arwen’s son and daughter, but
no news Legolas.
As
a century and twenty two years passed my longing for the golden elf of
chest. I was certain now that I would see him again, and part of me wanting
that more than anything, but my ever present voice of reason telling me it
would be better if I did not.
*~Legolas~*
At
last! My fears proved ungrounded as we reached land, land that proved to be,
indeed, Valinor, the Undying Lands. I had been granted this by perhaps the
Valar, but selfishly I ask for more, raising my face to the brightest star,
Eärendil, and begged him with all my heart to lead me to his son.
Gimli
saw my brief prayer, he saw where I looked in the heavens and somewhere deep
inside, he knew who I sought. He knew me too well, by now. Sometimes I liked
that fact, others I hated it, but right now, I felt I needed someone to know.
Water
lapped at our feet as we lingered on the shoreline as we stared at the night
sky. Ang lng last Gimli said gruffly that we should press forward as he started
off into the darkness, and numbly I followed.
*~Elrond~*
Sunset
had long passed, and I was propped up in my beech tree. I was growing drowsy,
so sleepy I thought I had seen a ship crest the horizon. Or maybe I had only
been dreaming of a ship, for I was so sleepy I can hardly remember alighting
from my tree to fall into bed.
*~Legolas~*
The
city beside the Sea was lovely by night, and I would find out that it was even more
beautiful by day, but that night I had only one thing in mind: dark hair over
pale skin, piercing grey eyes that were my undoing in the beginning.
There
were greetings, there was merriment, there were reunions, and introductions to
elves I had not met, only heard of.
I
met the Lady Celebrían. She was in every sense the daughter of Galadriel, and I
could see Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen reflected in her eyes. I bore no grudge
against her.
Glorfindel
was there, as was Elladan and Elrohir, Erestor, Haldir, Celeborn, and
Galadriel.
“Is
Lord Elrond not present?” Gimli voiced my question.
Glorfindel
glanced sidelong at me before answering, “He is unaccounted for.”
It
was Glorfindel who showed me to my chamber that first night. “Good night,” was
all he said at first, then he hesitated, in the doorway, hand on the ornate
handle. “If you are wondering…” The elf said slowly, “Down the hall, at the
end.” And then he was gone.
I
wait impatiently, intending to wait until the nightly noises of the house have
died down to find the gem I seek. I pace the room as I did so long ago in
Imladris, but after more than a century of waiting I have not the patience to
wait a few more hours. Heedless of who may see my trek I slip from the chamber
and make for the door at the end of the long corridor. Without knocking I turn
the handle and enter, only to find it empty.
I
am sure it is Elrond’s chamber; there is energy, an aura of quiet perfection
and regality that still awakens a small twinge of awe in me.
I
wondered where he was as I made my way through the rooms, and found the elf
lord asleep in bed. I smiled to myself as I remembered long ago in Imladris how
I ventured from my guest room to watc hos host sleep, enthralled in wonder,
shaking with trepidation.
Nearing
the bed I reached out to shake his shoulder, to wake him and kiss him and be
kissed back. But my hand stopped a breadth away, and I withdrew it again.
Even
in sleep I could tell he was changed, as I studied his face carefully. The
burden of his years of memory seemed lighter, his heart seemed less troubled by
sorrows of the past, his face was tranquil, his lips curved in the slightest of
smiles. I wondered of what – or who – he dreamed of. Elrond was still a lord,
mighty among elves and men, a legend that still lived, but I no longer felt
unworthy of his l I f I felt at rest, at peace, at home where ever he was.
Finally I was home.
Stripping
off my tunic and leggings I slip into the vast bed that faces a huge window
that looks out over the river, the elf lord still asleep beside me. For the
first time I did not care to look out to admire neither the stars nor the beech
tree that springs up just outside. The only time I lifted my eyes to look out
of the window was to thank Eärendil for leading me to his son.
*~Elrond~*
I
awoke slowly, and the first thing I was aware of was the fact that there was a
warm, masculine body beside me. I crack my eyelids, turning my face toward the
sound of soft breath stirring to my right. The first thing I see is a wash of
pale golden something over my pillow, a breadth away from my face. Something is
tickling my nose, and as I reach up to brush it away I realize that it is hair.
Confused, I reach out as I blink my eyes into focus, and am rewarded with a
handful of thick golden hair. I recognize the soft, airy scent of something
luscious, intoxicating and addictive, all too familiar but long absent.
It
is Legolas! He has come to me in the night, a soft ray of golden sunlight that
has slipped into my bed, preserved through the night and burnished into golden
perfection in the morning sun. I cry out in surprise, falling on him with hands
and lips, caressing and holding, both gentle and urgently violent at the same
time.
He
stirs and his eyelids flutter as he yawns, then he lets out a soft laugh as he
turns his face to accommodate my kisses. He whispers my name and I want to weep
as I hold him, never letting go for fear he will slip away like liquid gold
into oblivion.
I
crush Legolas to me, thanking the Valar and the stars that the golden elf of
*~Legolas~*
I
laugh as he laughs, feeling the joy that makes tears prick my eyes and threaten
to spill. He sees my tears and kisses my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, my lips.
Burying his face in my hair he lets out a long, shaky sigh, satisfied.
“Legolas,”
he murmurs. Elrond pulls back slightly to look into my eyes. “How you have
changed…but…” his face grows sad. “Elessar has passed, hasn’t he?”
“Yes,”
I say softly. “Do not be troubled,” I reached up to stroke his cheek. “He ruled
long and well. Arwen was happy. It could not have been any other way.”
“Yes,”
he agrees, but I can still feel his sadness as I hold him.
“Arwen
would not have ever been happy any other way.”
“Yes.”
Elrond said.
I
know there is not more that I can say to him to ease the pain in his heart. I
stroke his cheek and he returns my affections, his gentle, many pecks of
gladness showered down on my face turning into a long kiss of want deep in my
mouth. I shiver as Elrond’s hands open on my chest and slide down my naked
body, and moan as they cup between my legs.
“May
I?” he whispers.
“Please,”
I return, tugging at the soft sleeping tunic he wore.
Through
the years I had forgotten the magical dance of lovemaking. I had forgotten how
Elrond’s lithe body became hot and pliable against mine, I had forgotten the
feeling of physical arousal mingling with emotional heightening, but I
remembered all and more as he worked tenderly in careful preparation for what
was to come.
“You
have changed,” he whispered.
I
could feel Elrond’s eyes roaming my body in a delicious tease that was both
horrible and thrilling at the same time; he held my legs behind the knees,
forcing me wide and vulnerable for him to examine and take as he wished. “How
so?” I said.
Elrond
shifts close to me. “Your eyes still captivate me like no other, and they glow
with the fierce pride of a warrior prince who bows to no one, but they do not
hold the arrogance they once did.” He kisses me and thrusts, and I gasp.
Intelligent
conversation is forgotten as a pace is set, beginning down the road of ecstasy.
*~Elrond~*
We
were wrapped up in delight, in the gratification of the other’s body and soul,
so oblivious to anything save the cry and movement of the other that we did not
hear him come in, or see him standing there. It was only after we had reached
the end and were murmuring softly to one another in the shaking aftermath that
a tiny squeak of disbelief reached our ears.
I
turned my head to see a traumatized looking Elladan frozen in the doorway;
Legolas had not latched the door in his coming the night before.
“Good
morning, son of Elrond,” Legolas greeted him without a hint of mortification.
Startled
into action by the phrase Elladan did not reply, but instead fled.
“I
must go after him,” I said. “Ai, Legolas-“
“Worry
not,” the golden elf reassured me, breaking me off with a kiss and grabbing
hold of me around the waist to keep me from leaping from. “You must speak to
him though…you know not…oh,” Legolas’ eyes grew distant. “Oh, of course, you
know not.”
I
must have looked as agitated as I felt for Legolas sprang from the bed,
wrapping himself in one of my robes, and gestured for me to do the same. “Come.
Lead me to Glorfindel’s chambers, please.” Legolas put a gentle hand to my lips
as I opened my mouth to protest. “Hush. Glorfindel’s chambers,” he repeated.
I
lead the way, thoroughly bemused and half expecting all to come pouring out to
rain justice down on our sinful heads. Coming to a closed door that bore a
small golden sun in the upper right corner, I stepped aside and informed
Legolas, “Glorfindel. Though I wonder why you do not seek Elladan.”
Legolas’
mouth formed the smallest of mysterious smiles that, for all my wisdom, still
had me foiled. The golden elf rapped on the door, and once given permission
from Glorfindel within, turned the handle and entered.
My
wrist was grabbed as I was led into the room behind Legolas.
*~Legolas~*
Glorfindel
sat propped against the head board, blankets drawn about his waist, deep golden
hair as bright as the sun from the light that streamed in the window. He nodded
in greeting, one hand reaching out to rest on the knee and placating the
distraught looking Elladan that perched on the edge of the bed.
I
sat Elrond down gently on a lounge that was near the bed, and looked Elladan
steadily in the eye. For a moment I was unnerved, as at first glance his eyes
were identical to his father’s, but once studied they held not the wisdom of
thousands of years, the sadness nor the joy, and a little less of the
nobleness. His eyes held more of my experiences of Middle Earth, and realizing
this I was comforted, and asked, “Are you angry, Elladan?”
“Yes,”
he replied immediately.
Beside
me Elrond winced, and drew himself up straighter.
“No,”
Elladan said softly after a moment’s silence. “I knew…I think. Maybe.
Glorfindel hinted at it to me several times before. But, Adar, I just never
thought…”
Elrond
raised one eyebrow at his friend and his son but did not say a word.
“I
think it is time that your father be held privy to what Legolas discovered so
long ago in Imladris.” Glorfindel took Elladan’s hand and turned to Elrond, who
still had one eyebrow raised and sat in cold, stony silence. “My friend, you
are not the only one who seeks such liaisons.”
Elrond
blanched. For all the wisdom, kindness, and Eldar greatness he embodied, he did
not look it now; now he was only a father, who stared at his son with emotions
that I could not understand.
“Elrond,”
I said softly, touching his hand. I wanted a reaction from him, anything.
*~Elrond~*
My
first reaction was anger. For a few horrible moments I had visions of this
legendary Balrog slayer seducing my young and innocent son, and the thought
made my chest constrict painfully. Then I mentally shook myself and reminded
myself of Glorfindel’s kindness, his integrity; I had known him for many
millennia and there was no dishonor in his character. “How long?” I asked
pensively.
“Since
Arwen’s birth,” Elladan said timidly.
He
had been very young then, though at least he was past his majority. I wondered
how Glorfindel could have fallen in love with a being he had cradled in his
arms as an infant, helped rear through childhood, and celebrated coming of age
with. I felt my face grew paler at the thought.
“Elrond,”
Legolas’
hand curled around my own.
I
lifted my face to look into his eyes, his deep blue eyes that first pierced me
to the heart on the first day of Council. I looked from Legolas to Glorfindel,
who stares at me, then looked to Elladan, who stares down at his hands which
are clasped in Glorfindel’s.
Glorfindel,
a reborn legend, mighty, famed, golden as the Golden Flower that his house was
named for back in Gondolin…my Elladan, older than his brother by a few minutes,
born in the beginning of the Third Age, dark hd and and grey eyed as myself…my
beloved son. I looked back at Legolas…my proud, golden Legolas, born in
Mirkwood to Thranduil King of the Silvan elves at the beginning of the Third
Age, one of the Nine Walkers…
I
sighed. I wondered what it would have been like to have held Legolas as a babe,
and had I done so, could I have stopped myself from becoming his lover in the
years to come?
“Elladan,”
I say quietly. “Glorfindel, if you find happiness in the company and love of
one another, I cannot stop you.”
Elladan
looks up and me and smiles, close lipped.
“I
love you too,” I remind him, and he smiles genuinely.
“It
was a secret I was loathe to keep from you, my friend,” Glorfindel settles back
into his nest and Elladan rests his head on Glorfindel’s chest. “I am sorry if
you felt that there was deception.”
“Yet
secret was necessary,” I reply. “And secret it must remain.” I cradle Legolas
to me, and somehow feel relief and joy that there are two other beings in all
of Valinor that share the burden of forbidden love, which few others can
understand and accept.