In Twilight

A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beat reader, Ilye, for correcting me. You are never too picky or critical on my stories, love.
Song lyrics come from the anime .hack//SIGN and will be used in later chapters.
Arondil, Celeron, Nimriel and Erinien are my creation; no stealing please. You may borrow them if you ask permission first.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the first chapter; I hope you enjoy this one as well.

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

Chapter 2: Beneath the Beeches
Summary: Thranduil ponders his relationship with the Lord of Imladris while waiting for his sons to arrive; the feast to celebrate the Peredhel twins’ arrival proves most interesting.

Sunlight playfully danced against the tall canopy of the forest, sneaking past leaves to glitter across the ground and in the hair of five tall and fair forms, Mirkwood’s king and his children. Thranduil, as usual, was clad in robes of the rich greens and browns of his realm; a gold circlet adorned his golden head, set on his brow just above a pair of deep blue eyes. An elaborate ring of mithril was wrapped around his neck in curling waves. His face was youthful, but an aura of pride and royalty floated around him, creating a commanding presence that few failed to notice. He was an elven king, who loved and greatly admired riches; yet today, for the most part, he went unadorned. Pristine and regal, it was easy to decipher who was the proud king and father from the children who gathered around him. His eyes lighted in faint delight as they rested on each of his beloved offspring in turn.

Arondil was the eldest, and nearly the spitting image of his father. He had inherited nearly all of Thranduil’s physical features, as well as a few of his personality traits. He was arrogant at times, but not to the extent of his parent, his presence just as commanding yet holding a note of calm and gentleness. Like his father, he too sported robes of green, golden hair braided away from his face. To his side stood Celeron, Thranduil’s second son. Rather than possessing golden tresses and sapphire eyes, he had taken after his mother; silvery locks swayed in the faint breeze, the air lifting them in the way of green eyes. His attire of a white tunic and moss-green leggings underneath a long brown cloak was less formal than his brother and father’s, but just as regal on his person. He served as advisor to his father and his siblings; Celeron knew well when to keep a secret and when one should be exposed. He was playful and mischievous, loving challenges, but also knew when to be serious and quiet.

Celeron smiled in fondness as he watched his sister, and Thranduil’s youngest child, Nimriel, skip from tree to tree, peering out in hopes of catching the first glimpse of their guests. She was a spoiled child, being the king’s only daughter--and his youngest. Nimriel tended to get her way without even trying; it didn’t matter how much her parents or brothers would protest, she always seemed to get what she wanted in the end. Like her mother, she possessed an innocent beauty for her young age, but one that hid a deep understanding and sympathy for others; Nimriel often knew more than she let others believe. Streams of hair, a mix of gold and silver, cascaded in waves down her back, green eyes, flecked with gold, wide and staring into the surrounding trees. Many a suitor had visited the king in the past, asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage, though Thranduil had deemed none worthy enough for his child. So engrossed in her search was she that Nimriel ignored the fallen leaves and branches beginning to snag in the ends of her white robes as she nearly flew from behind trees, her appearance becoming more disheveled each passing moment.

“Lighthearted as ever, is she not, Legolas?” Arondil said with a smile, addressing his youngest brother.

“Aye,” came the reply from Thranduil’s other side. The king’s youngest son possessed both the king’s colors and his mother’s regal beauty. Spun gold wound its way down his shoulders, braids entwined, within the tresses. Eyes that seemed to glow with a Silmaril’s light flickered left and right in blue flashes. Ever-alert ears listened to the surrounding forest for signs his sister might miss. He was dressed less formally than the rest of his family, preferring the comfort and practicality of a warrior’s clothes rather than the formal robes he found too constricting or too billowing at times. He was a stunning beauty compared to his brothers’ regal handsomeness; some even said Legolas’ beauty paled that of his mother and sister. Most agreed, however, that Legolas strongly resembled his grandfather above all others. He was a warrior at heart, oftoundound in the company of patrol guards rather than court advisors and counselors.

The soft whinny of an elven steed came to their ears; each one leaned forward slightly to catch another sound. Another whinny came before two riders were seen approaching the royal family in the distance. Keen elven eyes noticed the dark hair of the twin riders, as well as the deep burgundy and rich brown tones the elves of Imladris were known to sport. Quietly, Thranduil and his children waited as the Peredhel twins approached, reining their horses in and dismounting. As they bowed to the woodland king in respect, the royal family couldn’t help but gape a little at the remarkable resemblance the twins held with one another; none of them had ever seen a pair so alike in looks that they wondered how alike the two thought and spoke. They had known the sons of Elrond to be identical, but the sight before them was still a bit startling.

“My lord Thranduil,” Elladan began, bowing a little more deeply in respect. “Might I introduce myself; I am Elladan.” He gestured to his twin. “And this is my brother, Elrohir. We thank you most graciously and kindly for allowing us to stay with you and yours in your beloved realm for the following year. My father sends his regards and thanks.”

“I shall send him my own, son of Elrond,” Thranduil replied, inclining his head in acknowledgement. He forced away the faint grimace that threatened to spread across his face. It was no secret that the golden king held a little resentment to those who possessed Noldorin blood, but he had come to respect some of them, the lord of Imladris among them. He was pleased to see that the sons of the Peredhel were gracious and polite, obviously well learned in the art of war, by their looks and diplomacy in their manner. “Allow me to introduce my own children.” He gestured to each one in turn, each child bowing or curtsying when their name was called. “This is Arondil, my eldest, Celeron, Nimriel my youngest, and Legolas.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Elrohir said with yet another deep bow.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Celeron returned, a smile spreading across his face as he turned eyes to each twin. Elladan copied his smile, but his eyes remained focused on the form behind Celeron, that of his younger brother. He blinked once when he registered Legolas’ sapphire eyes returning his stare. For a moment nothing else existed between the two, except each other and the locking of their gazes. Quickly they turned away from each other, steeling the quickened pace of their hearts and forcing down the heat threatening to consume their faces and ears. Legolas shuffled a little behind his brother lest his father should notice; at least Elladan could play off any emotion in his face as nervousness at meeting Mirkwood’s king.

“Come, you must be weary from the journey,” Arondil offered, gesturing to the house behind them. “Allow us to show you to your rooms so that you may rest before the evening meal. Ada has made arrangements for a warm welcome.”

“You are most kind,” Elladan said, surprised at the evenness of his voice even as his heart still fluttered. Passing one quick glance at Legolas again, he began to help his brother unburden their steeds before stable hands took the horses away for rest. The dark-haired twins then began to follow their hosts into the house and to their rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arondil was right, Elladan noted to himself as he sat in a seat around the circular dining table filled with delicacies he both recognized, loved and couldn’t guess at the origin of. If there was one thing he had to give Thranduil credit for, it was that the king certainly knew how to throw a feast for his guests. He had expected to find Thranduil to be arrogant and self-absorbed, but so far the king did not seem to him so to him. The golden king seemed to be genuinely pleased at having the twins in his company and home for the next year. Perhaps Erestor and Glorfindel had been right when they said Thranduil held no fondness for the Noldorion blood in their veins, but he tried not to let it affect the respect he held for Elrond. Now and again, Elladan caught a grimace floating across Thranduil’s face for the briefest of moments, but the next the king seemed to be intrigued in the tales the twins had to tell. Elladan was starting to like the king for his courtesy and respect for others, though he still disliked the king’s arrogant attitude--which, thankfully, had not arisen yet.

Finding himself wedged between his brother and Thranduil’s wife, Erinien, Elladan listened to the lively conversation around him, but kept his eyes, for the most part, trained on the person seated in front of him. Legolas had changed from his warrior’s clothing to a silver tunic and deep green leggings for the evening, something just a little more formal than his previous change of clothes. The threads of the tunic seemed to shimmer in the light of the dining hall, highlighting the prince’s golden hair. Elegant, slim fingers were wrapped loosely around a silver goblet, bringing the object to his lips for a sip of the bittersweet cider it contained. He caught Elladan’s gaze for a moment over the brim of the goblet, holding it with his own before the elder twin broke away to answer Nimriel’s question.

“I understand you have a sister,” the young elven princess said, a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes.

“Yes, Arwen,” Elladan replied kindly. “She resides with our grandparents in Lothlorien at the moment.”

“What is she like? I would very much like to meet her.”

“Perhaps you will,” Elrohir said. “She is due back in Imladris at the same time we are. She is a dark beauty, with our father’s coloring but mother’s regality. But she is not one you would like to toy with. Arwen frequently likes to tease Elladan.”

“Why ever is that so?” the queen asked, peering at the twin to her left as Elrohir broke out into a brilliant smile.

“Because he becomes embarrassed far too easily for someone accustomed to battles, such as himself.” At his brother’s words, Elladan could not fight the blush that stained his cheeks. Laughter broke out across the table. “You see? For a seasoned warrior, methinks he blushes too much.” Another peal of laughter rang out as Elladan flushed an even deeper red.

“Brother dear,” Nimriel said gently, turning to Legolas in an attempt to draw attention away from the embarrassed elf, much to Elladan‘s thankfulness. “Why not grace our guests with your exquisite voice?”

“Yes, I agree,” Celeron said with a quick nod of the head. “In fact, I have the perfect song. You know which one I mean.” It was not long before Arondil and his parents also asked the same of Legolas. The young prince felt the rush of embarrassment stain his own cheeks, just as it had Elladan’s moments before.

“I have heard of the musical talents of Mirkwood’s youngest prince about as often as his skills in archery,” Elrohir commented. “I would be most grateful to hear the often sought-after voice just once during my stay here.”

“You flatter me too much, Elrohir,” Legolas replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could make it. “Very well then, I shall oblige. I cannot deny my guest, who has given me such a heartfelt compliment. I sincerely hope that this show will be to your liking.” The younger twin smiled as the prince gestured to a nearby musician, whispering something into his ear to which the other nodded before making a knowing motion to his fellow players. Soon the dining hall was filled with the sounds of harps, Legolas’ silvery voice following a moment afterwards.

Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past

Take me back to the land
Where my yearnings were born
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now fly me there

He paused for a moment, letting the musicians continue of their own accord. The prince seemed not to notice the startled look upon Elladan’s face, which had appeared the moment the first verse had left his lips. For the words he sang came from a song Elladan had only heard once before, coming from the lips of a human girl. The song had intrigued him for, as he listened, it seemed to remind him of the Valar and past kin who first ventured to Middle-earth. The first and last time he had heard the song was during a journey to the north nearly twenty years ago with Elrohir, though his twin had not been with him at the time he heard the girl singing. He was both surprised and awed that Legolas should be singing that very same song that had captivated Elladan’s attention.

As the prince began the second verse, Elladan suddenly found his voice rising, his slightly deeper tones mixing with the prince’s lighter ones.

Fanatics find their heaven in never ending storming winds
Auguries of destruction be a lullaby for rebirth

Consolations be there
In my dreamland to come
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now take me there

I believe in fantasies invisible to me
In the land of misery I’m searching for the sun
To the door of mystery and dignity
I’m wandering down, and searching down the secret sun

By now, nearly at the end, Elladan had closed his eyes, unable to see the surprised looks that his twin as well as Thranduil, his wife and children were throwing his way and Legolas’. They listened intently, marveling at the sounds of slight alto and tenor mixing magically in a way they had never heard before.

Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past

Take me back to the land
Where my yearnings were born
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now take me there
To the land of twilight

Only as the song ended did Elladan open his eyes, gray orbs peering around and registering the awed and surprised looks given to him. He smiled sheepishly, barely noticing the flush that had crept upon Legolas’ face in his slight embarrassment as well. All was silent for a moment before Thranduil spoke, a hint of laughter, pride and approval in his voice.

“I dare say that was the best show I’ve seen, or heard, in a long time,” his voice boomed slightly, a smile spreading across his face. The others nodded and voiced their agreement as dinner proceeded on an even merrier note than it had before.

“Pray tell, where did you learn that song?” Erinien asked, curiosity weaving into her voice as she turned to Elladan. “I have only heard Legolas sing it before, and he said he learned it whilst venturing the woods, stumbling upon a young girl by a river singing to herself.”

“That was how I learned it as well,” Elladan replied. “Perhaps we both found the girl, but missed each other. A pity, for I would have enjoyed another’s company in learning such a song.” He barely caught a smile of contentment creeping across Legolas’ face before Arondil engaged him into another line of conversation. As he spoke with the eldest Mirkwood prince, Elladan couldn’t help but feel that perhaps this foster year would be much better than he and his brother had previously anticipated.

Translation:
Arondil-Lover of the Forest
Celeron-Silver Forest
Nimriel-White Garlanded Maiden
Peredhel-Half-elven