Love in the dark

Disclaimer, see part one.

I would like to thank all those who took the time to review. So, many thanks to Analia, Elfinesse, Brin and Silvertoekee.


***

Once Elladan had silently entered the room, Elrohir closed the door of the library behind him and leaned against the heavy wooden panel, his hand still resting on the doorknob, the other on his narrow hip. His gaze took some seconds to get accustomed to the darkness of the small study. No candles were lit in the shadowy place. The moon and the stars provided the only lighting, their foggy light making a silvery pool on the floor. Shadows ghosted the place, drawn by the trees bordering the last homely house, the tree limbs were agitated by the soft breeze of the night, creating soft patterns on the floor and on the high bookshelves covering the walls, their shelves filled with heavy books and dusty scrolls.

From where he stood in that study dedicated to a world of light and shadow, Elrohir noticed that Elladan’s lithe figure seemed more ghostly than ever, his alabaster skin almost translucent. He cautiously watched the slender frame that walked to and fro the small width of the place, heavy robes rustling with his pace and let his gaze roam over the magnificent body he knew hidden beneath the large fabric.

What were they doing there?

He was not sure whether either of them would be able to hold a proper conversation, but something in his mind had whispered that it would not be a reasonable idea. Even if he had wanted to tell his brother to go and bother someone else, the cold sparkling and the threatening mist hovering over the usually clear grey eyes had pushed him to follow his twin. Elrohir had always prided himself on being the most perceptive of them and he knew his brother. A simple glance toward the closed features facing him had taught him all he had needed to know. His twin was not his normal self; he had been exuding an unusual threatening aura. Elrohir had glanced toward the pink maiden he had easily seduced during the feast and had noticed the fearful glance she had cast toward the newcomer.

He had understood that a refusal would have triggered something he would not have liked to her to witness. So, he had followed his twin.

He was not afraid, even if he knew that Elladan’s behaviour and reactions were more than unpredictable, changing like the wind, flickering like the ephemeral light. He was not afraid because he knew where his brother’s faults lay and he had always used that knowledge to his own purposes. In spite of the fickleness of his brother’s mind, Elrohir had always been able to read his intentions, to see what he was thinking.

No, Elrohir was not afraid. He dsed sed his brother’s weakness too much to be really afraid of the menacing light flaring in the bottomless orbs. He was well aware of the power he had on his twin and he knew how to use it.

Shifting against the door, he inspected the study, gazing at shelves, watching the games of shadows on the high ceiling, listening to the troubled silence.

How long since they had found themselves in the same room?

The answer came quickly, almost on its own. Answer that he tried to chase away. Not willing to listen to the voice of his heart.

‘Long. Too long…’

But it did not really matter. Had it ever mattered, indeed? He had learned not to give too much attention to those details. Once upon a time they had been the most loving brothers one could find on Middle Earth. Living with and for each other. Inseparable. But things had changed. They had made their choices, taking different path. They had severed the bond between them and neither of them had ever tried to collect the scattered pieces of their broken relationship. Too proud to do that. Too stupid. Or perhaps both. They were now brothers just in name. Elrohir and Elladan, twin sons of Elrond, Lord of Imladris.

But it had not always been like that. He gritted his teeth, remembering how their love had blossomed between them when they had been younger and more innocent. He could recall well how sweet life had been then. In his mind, Elrohir had always thought that he would never love anyone else. Could never love anyone else. And he had felt that Elladan loved him in the same way. But where Elrohir was confident and assured, Elladan was gnawed by doubts. They had never spoken of them, knowing well what was hidden by the silence that had sometimes arisen between them. He had thought that with time those doubts would fade away and had left aside the worries and the pain, relishing in their special brotherhood, enjoying the mere presence of his brother. He himself had always thought that they were destined to become lovers. They loved each other in a special way. They were two halves of the same whole, incomplete when apart.

But time had not overcome the hesitation in Elladan’s heart. And when Elrohir had decided to offer his heart to him, he had chosen otherwise.

His elder twin had decided that, in spite of his own feelings, in spite of his love, he did not want him as a lover.had had fled and left him behind. Leaving with their mother to Lorien in a journey that had lasted years. Leaving him behind because of those fears he had not been able to master.

Elrohir had hated his brother for his doubts. He had blamed him for the tears he had shed in his lonely bed. For the pain in his heart and in his own body. For the heartbreak. And he had learned to live alone. With the void left by his twin’s absence. Hardening his heart a little bit more every day. Cursing his twin for what he had done to him. Even now, he could still remember the salty taste of his tears.

And, one day, Elladan had come back and he had begged his forgiveness, asked pardon for his doubts. Elrohir could still see the clouded grey eyes when Elladan had told him that he loved him. Loved him. But those words had come with many years of delay. Many years of pain. And he had turned his back to his twin with that simple word.

“Never…”

Never. That was what he had sworn to himself in his empty and cold sheets, when he had had no strength left to cry on himself. Never. He had felt so lonely and so empty inside. He had sworn that his twin would know the same pain as he. He wanted him to suffer as he had suffered himself. He wanted to see his tears flowing as his own had done. He wanted to see him breaking down, because he felt that, that day, he would be finally able to pardon him and, perhaps, build something new with him. But he was not sure that, that day; he would be able to pardon himself for the suffering he had inflicted. And he had taken lovers, relishing in the pleasures of the flesh to forget the pain of his heart.

It was simply too late for them. That was what he had tried to believe. Too late.

But he would have lied if he had said that he had turned the page. Within himself, he knew he would never be able to do so. He loved him. Whatever had happened, whatever would come, he would always love his twin with his whole heart. Elladan was the other part of himself. The only one who really knew him. But love between them was not possible anymore. And, in a way, that was his own fault. He could not give himself completely to someone he did not respect. Someone he did not admire.

There was no fire left in Elladan. His brother accepted his cruel unspoken reproaches and taunts, suffering in silence. He had tried to pretend indifference, but Elrohir knew him too well to be deceived by appearances. And the more Elladan averted his eyes and endured his words in silent submission, the more he despised him and the more cruel he was, willing to make his twin react and gain his respect again. To make him show that perhaps there was still a reason for Elrohir to love him.

But Elladan never did anything. He remained in dark corners, his eyes glazed in withdrawn pain. Looking at him with sad and guilty grey orbs. Making him feel at the same time the need to take him in his arms to comfort him and the need to strike him again and again. But Elrohir had learned to ignore the split of his mind.

Shaking his head, Elrohir chased away those reflections and remembered the sweet maiden he had easily seduced during the feast that was waiting for him in the empty gardens. Her lips were soft and sweet. He was on his way to discover if other parts of her tasted as good when Elladan had interfered. At this simple thought, he felt cold anger swelling in his heart for his brother. How had he thought himself allowed to interfere in such an intimate moment? How dared he? For him, Elladan had lost that right the day he had turned his back on him.

Shifting against the door and taking a few steps toward his pacing twin, Elrohir impatiently asked, his icy voice reflecting the insulting contempt he had learned to feel for his brother. He had more important matters to attend tonight.

“So, Elladan? I thought you wanted to talk, not to explore the library!”

Hearing those words, Elladan halted in his tracks, his well-drawn and noble profile clearly standing out in the moon light, his alabaster skin glowing in the semi-darkness. Slowly turning on his heel until he faced hiotheother, the elder twin straightened himself for the oncoming verbal attack. He felt now how thoughtless he had behaved. He had no wish to face Elrohir. Only the powerful rage that had overwhelmed his heart had pushed him to do so. But he had regretted the words at the very moment he had spoken them. With each silent step he had taken toward that little study, he had felt his resolve dimming until it utterly disappeared now that he heard his twin’s tone. The tone that reminded him of his faults. Of his failures. Of his doubts.

A few feet were separating them and from where he was standing, Elrohir could clearly make out the fair features frozen in an unreadable mask, his jaw clenched forcefully, enhancing his angular cheekbones. What struck him were the dilated pupils staring at him, as if lost in an absent reverie, seeming to pierce him, to see through him as if he was made a glass. But, in spite of that unpleasant sensation, he held his brother’s gaze without making a move or speaking a word, impassive.

Elladan stared in his twin, feeling his brother’s disdain weighing on him. But for one of the first times in his life, he refused to back down from it and to avert his gaze. He knew that Elrohir had over him the power he granted him. That his guilt had driven him too far in the acceptance of his twin’s contempt. He hung on to his previous thoughts. This could not go on ay longer. He gathered his strength and called to the fire that had animated him a few moments ago, calling to his rage to support him. Calling to memories.

They stared at each other in silence for long seconds until Elladan swallowed and spoke through gritted teeth, his voice barely more than a whisper, but holding an unmistakable tone of challenge.

“Do not toy with me, Elrohir… I am not sure I am ready to bear these little games of yours tonight…”

But the younger twin did not seem impressed by his brother’s unusual rebellion. Rather the contrary. Something like an amused smile ghosted his lips, as if he accepted the unspoken bet of making his brother bend as he had learned to do during all those years. Elrohir narrowed his eyes and unconsciously adopted a stance that looked very much like his brother’s. Slightly tilting his head on his right, not giving much attention to the few wild strands of hair falling in a cascade in his face when he did so, he repeated, his syllables clearly standing out, his tongue rolling his words on his palate before letting them go, taking his time to speak, as if reporting an utter evidence:

“Games? But I do not play. This is no game, Elladan… I have stopped playing games a long time ago…”

Straightening himself and passing a steady hand through his dark mane, tucking the rebel locks behind his delicately pointed ears, he added, his voice becoming suddenly cold and unfeeling:

“If you made me come for in order to insult me, I will go back to the garden…” He paused as if to enhance his following words. His voice became faintly honeyed when he added, knowing well what effects his little speech would have on Elladan: “Someone more pleasant is waiting for me there…”

Elladan’s sharp intake of breath was the only sign that his twin’s words had not missed their target. His composure did not change, his head still held straight and his gaze unwavering. But he did not remain silent for a long time, as he saw again the couple kissing in the gardens, touching and groping like two animals in rut, a vivid memory that made anger flared anew in his voice.

“How dare you? In our garden! Take her somewhere else. Wherever you want, I do not mind, but not there!”

Elrohir was really puzzled by the sudden emotion in his brother’s voice, emotion that he did not even care to conceal. Their garden? What an odd expression… Their garden. Yet, it was true. That was the place where they had always found themselves. That was the place where they had been happy together. But he had erased those memories. Erased them because they were too painful and helplessly pushed him toward his twin. Their garden. He had to admit that he would have never thought that his brother would have given so much importance to such a detail. But he shook his head, refusing to be moved by old memories.

Dismissing his brother’s words with a casual gesture of the hand, he answered:

“Do not take that offended expression. I thought you wanted to forget what happened in that garden. Wasn’t that what you told me?”

He cruelly sd whd when he saw the flickering light of pain in his twin’s eyes. He liked that as much as he hated himself for doing it. He could feel the rush of his blood in his veins as he spoke. He could feel the power he had over his twin. Power to make him feel bad. Power to crush his will. Power to make him suffer. It made him feel like a lazy feline playing with his prey. Relishing the sudden stiffening of his brother’s shoulders, he inquired with a sensual smile:

“Do you know a better way to replace disturbing images than by replacing them with others more pleasant…”

He wanted to push his brother to the breaking point. He wanted him to crumble. To weep as he had wept. He knew that he was merciless with his twin, but the sensation of power, of might was too intoxicating. He had come to need it as others needed air to breathe.

But Elladan refused to let himself be lead as before. Even if his twin’s statements hurt him. He understood the insinuation behind the words. He knew what Elrohir was trying to do. Trying to awaken the guilt that was gnawing at him as it had done many times before. The guilt that had prevented his living for so many years. The guilt that had made of his life the hell that it was. He clenched his hand into a fist pushing the unwanted sensation aside, but feeling its familiar touch against his mind. His eyes darkened by anger, forsaking any attempt to pretend being indifferent to his brother’s doings, he spat:

“Do whatever you want, but not there. It is enough to see your debauchery in any other place.”

Elrohir’s rosy lips formed a short-lived ‘o’, accompanied by an eloquent shrugging of his dark eyebrows. He took a few steps toward his brother, feeling again like a cat circling his defenceless prey, his voice holding an unmistakable undertone of mock concern and surprise.

“But what do I hear in your voice, Elladan? Is it jealousy? Want? But if I recall, I offered the same to you and you refused…”

Elrohir’s features hardened when the ephemeral image of his brother’s livid features flashed in front of his eyes, reminding him of the night when he had briefly tasted the heaven of his twin’s lips before being cast aside. His lips contorted in a parody of smile, his jaw clenched in remembrance, he repeated, making his words echo in the heavy silence hovering upon them:

“You refused…”

He knew he was aiming his words into his elder brother’s heart as surely as he would have aimed the most sharpened arrow into the centre of a target. They were twins and knew each other, knew where their strengths and weaknesses lay. Such knowledge gave them the power to strike mercilessly each other.

Elladan felt the guilt that he had cast aside coming back, attacking his heart in the usual drills and this time, he was unable to contain it. Yes, it was his fault. His fault. Fault, which he felt the weight a little bit more every day. But had he not enough paid? Had he not suffered enough? Why was his twin trying to torture him more? He closed his eyes briefly to open them again, staring in the well-known eyes watching him. There were many hidden things in Elrohir’s eyes, but dominating all the others was that accusing sparkle of light.

Held nld not understand anymore. Why? Why did his brother only find pleasure in hurting him and hurting him again? He loved Elrohir. He loved him and he needed him. Wanted him as he had never wanted anyone.

Willing himself to regain at least a pretence of control over himself, he broke eye contact and walked toward the desk close to him, seizing in his strong hands the back of a chair, oblivious of the sharp ache that shot through his injured fingers. Turning his back to his twin and snarling, he spat, pain clearly underlying his words, hoping that his admission would make his brother stop:

“Do you think I am not aware of that? Do you think I have so little memory?”

But Elrohir did not satisfy himself with that vague answer. He wanted to see his brother’s face when he would admit his true feelings, when his mask would slide to the ground and shatter. Approaching his brother from behind, he followed, his voice taunting, willingly cruel, wanting to trap his twin, to confront him:

“So, why? Do you regret it now? Do you think that you would have liked being in their place?”

Elladan’s fingers clutched more forcefully at the hard wood of the chair and he closed his eyes in the same time as he gritted his teeth. What could he answer? Should he speak of his unbidden fantasies? Of his dreams when he imagined Elrohir’s hands touching him, loving him? Should he explain how he caressed himself, closing his eyes to pretend that it was not his hand, but his twin’s? Should he lower himself thus to earn his brother’s forgiveness? But he knew in himself that Elrohir would never be satisfied until he had broken everything in him.

“Stop what you are doing!”

His voice was barely more than a whisper, holding a heart-wrenching plea as much as an unmistakable threat. He could feel the last remnant of his control slip away. But Elrohir was too far gone to notice his brother’s state of mind. He took another step toward his twin, now separated from him by a few feet and he asked:

“Why? Why should I listen to you? Why?”

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. He took another step, his feet not making a sound on the soft carpet. Then he continued, his voice increasing in level with each word until it became an uncontrolled scream.

“You are nothing to me now! I would have given you everything! Everything! My love, my life! But it was not enough! Not enough!”

He paused for a brief second, as if realizing what he had just done. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the heavy air of the study, before adding in form of conclusion, his voice oddly quiet after his outburst: “And now, you have lost any right to tell me what I should or should not do…”

Always his fault. His fault. Elladan shook his head, his raven mane falling in his eyes when he did so and he pushed it aside with his uninjured hand. In his head, he could hear his brother’s voice taunting him, rising in shrill notes before lowering and dying off, twirling, swirling, never ceasing, torturing him. Using his guilt against him. Using his weakness against him. He felt his composure crack and tears gathering in his eyes, but he blinked quickly to prevent them from rolling on his cheeks. He wanted Elrohir to stop. Nothing mattered save for those words he wanted to stop.

In a furious move, he swept with his right hand the many layers of papers scattered on the desk, sending them flying to the floor. He forcefully bit his bottom lip, turning quickly on his heels. They were close from each other. So close that he could almost feel the tempting breath on his fevered skin. But he did not mind. He only wanted this to stop. Wanted the pain and the guilt to stop. Wanted Elrohir to shut up and stop torturing him. He couldn’t take it anymore; he could feel the grasp he had on his sanity begin to slide away. Like a possessed soul, he yelled:

“I tell you to stop that, Elrohir! Stop that!”

But his younger twin did not see the warning clearly written in the darkened eyes, in the feral stance and in the scream that had left his brother’s lips. He was too taken by the memories of his own pain to see the mirror of his suffering in his twin’s eyes. Had he seen it, perhaps would he have backed up, frightened by Elladan’s look. But he did not see it and followed, his voice cold and insulting:

“Tell me Elladan. Does it bother you to think that I take my pleasure somewhere else?”

Elrohir did not see his twin launching himself at him. But, he clearly felt the bookshelves against his back, the thickness of the books digging in his flesh. His eyes narrowed in surprise, but before he had the time to react and push his brother aside, a long-fingered hand seized his neck and the other forcefully grasped his shoulder while a warm body was pressed against his own. A pair of grey eyes stared into his own, cold and dreadful, and for the first time, he did not recognize his brother. The elf in front of him was a complete stranger, whose feral expression sent a shiver of fear running the length of his spine.


TBC...