WEST WIND OVER EDORAS

Disclaimer: The characters and places here are not mine, all but a few are Tolkein's genius. If it's in LOTR, Silmarillion, Hobbit or Unfinished tales it Tolkien' s. If not it's mine.
No profit in this but the fun of writing and getting to play in Middle earth for a while.

Chapter 22

MEET, RIGHT AND GOOD

LEGOLAS:

All tension has left me. It will be alright. Her hands come to stroke me. She moves them gently over my ribs and stomach, her fingers following my bone and muscle patterns, dipping into my navel and playing there. So beautiful. Then the tips lightly drift lower, mesmerisingly tickling over the soft dusting of hair and following it down to where I am still warm and sticky with our love.

“Legolas, you make me feel as I never believed possible even in a dream. You are wonderful.”

I turn my head and look at her lying there in glory.

“And you make me feel likewise. Never doubt that,” I reply.

“How do I make you feel?” she asks, her tone genuine, really wishing to know.

I smile. “There is too much in my answer to put into words but I will try to tell you something. You make me feel as if I were the most beautiful, worthwhile being that Iluvatar ever gave life to in Arda.”

She interrupts me. “That is because you are. It is true.”

I laugh. “I am sure that cannot really be so, yet with you I am, but more than that, when I make love with you, you make me make feel completely, totally powerful and utterly helpless all at the same time. It is a mystery, everything rolled into one.”
She smiles at me and her fingers run over my hip and onto my thigh.

“How do I make you feel, meleth?” I ask in return.

She lifts her hand to my face touches my cheekbone then my lips. The tingling makes me long to kiss her. I watch her lips move instead.

“You make me feel like the stars are spinning around just for you and I. You make me feel loved as I have never been loved before, ever. You make me feel so very safe, yet at the same time as if I am standing on the top of the highest mountain with a dangerous drop below.” She reaches for my hand and places it low on her abdomen; the warm skin is heavenly under my touch. “You make whirlpools of golden light here, Las, that are constantly spinning when I look at you or even think of you, and when I touch you they sparkle and spin so fast the world blurs and there is nothing but you.”

I bring my hand to cover hers.

“I know. I feel that too but lower,” and I take her hand to cup around me and let her cradle my globes in her palm. “I will not let you fall from that mountain, Anna, not without me holding you. I promise.”

She smiles into my neck and her fingers squeeze me very lightly. “I hope not. It is like when I was a child, standing high on the beacon rock with the wind hurtling in from the far west. I remember lifting my arms and imagining them to be wings as I leant into the gusts. I thought if I leapt I could surely fly, but of course I did not. Yet in your arms Las, I feel as if I am flying.”

“Let us fly now, Amaelamin,” and I kiss her for a long time.

When our wings tire, we curl together so close, my leg over hers, she warm and soft within my arms, her arms around me, our faces against each others hair, feeling each others breathing both in the rise and fall of our bodies and against our faces as we rest and sleep.

I wake long before her and watch her as the dawn advances. Her eyelashes flutter like moth wings on her cheekbone as she dreams lightly. I hope they are good dreams. Her breath is warm and steady, each one so precious. When she opens her eyes it is to my gaze and the sweet joy in her expression brings a wide smile to my lips. There could be no better way to start a day.


ROWANNEN:

I have been dreaming of flying, among cool soft clouds, under a warm sun, on strong wings that never need rest. When I open my eyes, feel the warmth of his perfect body against my skin and see his eyes, like pieces of sky, gazing so intently at me I know I am still flying. He smiles and those suns sparkle all through my being. Such joy is mine.

“How do you feel this morning?” he asks.

“Stronger and glad to be so. I think I should dress and find Eowyn, she will be concerned and it is time I went outside. I wish to see Feannim also.”

Legolas nods. Together we begin to dress. My garments are clean again. It is odd to have clothes on again after being naked for so long with him. I find myself looking forward to later when I can take the fabric from his skin again and I blush slightly. Having overcome my strange fear and reticence I am surprised at how much I want him physically again so soon. He smiles at me, eyes sparkling as if he can read the flush of desire in my body. He dresses in different clothing, which I have not seen before. Black breeches in a soft leather and a longer black tunic with paler detail over a very fine billowing pure white shirt. He sees me gazing. He looks very fine, less of a warrior and traveller, more of a statesman and noble.

“Gondorian clothing from the vast wardrobe.” He points to wide closet doors against the far wall. “There are no female clothes but Inara has promised to bring many for you today. You will need some, tomorrow is the Coronation.”

“She is good to me,” I remark.

Legolas nods. “Her concern for you has been very evident for you these last days, she is obviously attached to you, but as to taking care of food and lodging and clothing, I think these hospitality duties are her job, her way of earning her living. She seems to have a certain number of chambers or ‘guests’ to care for in the city, she has been tending to Gimli and the twins too.

“I see.” It does make sense. She has of course been solicitous of my care since my arrival and I recall seeing her in the streets those first days with armfuls of sheets, clothing or platters of food. I smile at the thought of Inara inundated with all these strange races suddenly.

Legolas braids his hair in a single thick rope down his back and fastens a black ring at the end, contrasting starkly with the pale shine of his tresses. I have never before seen him wear this style before and he notices my surprise. He smiles.

“Simple neatness and ease today, for tomorrow I shall represent my realm and my people at Estel’s Kingmaking. Then you shall see the braiding of Mirkwood royalty.” He comes to me. It is strange not to have silken hair sweeping against my face and long rivers of it to run my fingers into. I reach to hold the heavy woven rope with my fingers and tug slightly. His lips curve against mine as we kiss.

“It is good to feel you tease again, meleth. You have been a little grave and I feared you had lost some gaiety of spirit.”

I look at him. “I do feel older, Legolas. A little more knowing, something has changed.” He looks at me quizzically.

“Much has happened, Lirimaer but I promise you, we will ever have space for play.”
He smiles. “Later. Now I must go to Estel and help with the arrangements for tomorrow. There is the ceremony to be discussed and also he will need support in taking so much responsibility and delegating duties. I will give him what aid I can. From now on his life will change beyond all comprehension. I will meet you before dinner, Rowannen.”

I touch his face. He is a friend and a lover without compare. What Gods smiled on me that day when the West Wind blew and we stood together, its force swirling about us? I give thanks to them all and find it hard to leave. He presses his fingers around my own.

“Take care and if you should feel unwell, send for me immediately.” I nod agreement and watch him walk away, long, taut, black clad legs striding swiftly towards the King’s chambers, pale braid swinging its weight from side to side as his shoulders move. Then I make my way to the Houses of Healing, though I do not know if Eowyn is still there.

I am almost at the doors when Inara appears hurrying upward. “Rowannen, I have many garments here for you.” Indeed her arms are laden with fabric.

“Oh Inara, thank you, and thank you for your care these last days. Legolas tells me you brought food and water and firewood.”

She nods. “I am overjoyed at your recovery. My brother too is well again and was discharged some days ago.”

I smile my happiness at this news. “I am pleased for you. I wish him strength. Tell me, is the lady Eowyn still within?”

Inara shakes her head. “No, she is recovered also and has a chamber nearby, but presently she walks in the gardens, along that path with the Steward.” She points toward an archway in the stone buildings.

“I would join her, Inara. Our rooms remain unlocked, would you leave these garments there for me and I will choose later?”

“Yes, of course. Tomorrow is a day unthought of. History come to life. I am so excited to see it, but I have never been so busy. The city even now is filling with dignitaries and warriors and their wives and peoples from places I have hardly heard of. Yet all are invited to the coronation, even the youngest kitchen maid. That is a fine thing for a King to do. We all feel so involved.”

I can see the excitement in her eyes and she is full of energy for her tasks. She hurries away to complete them.

I walk through the arch into a courtyard garden, small shrubs line the paved pathways and spring flowers are blooming in raised beds, climbers are budding against trellises, the spray from a small fountain caresses my check as I pass. Sitting on a stone bench looking out toward the greening field, now cleared of battle remains, are two figures. My friend’s flaxen hair billows down over her back and she leans close to a tall upright man and then her head drops to his shoulder and his arm solicitously curves around her, tender and possessive.

I stand still for a few moments before announcing my presence. I watch her flick her waving hair behind her in the breeze, see her mouth curl at the corners, hear her laugh like deep music. She looks happy.

“Eowyn.”

She turns and with a cry jumps up from her seat and comes running to embrace me. Her arms squeeze me tight and then slacken in concern in case she has hurt me. My happy smile reassures her.

“Rowannen, such joy it is to see you so well recovered. I was waiting for word before coming to see you and yet here you are, already walking outside and looking strong.” She steps back and looks me over with delight.

“I had good care,” I tell her and again a deep gratitude fills me for the attention and skill of Aragorn and the twins, and the love and prayer with which Legolas enveloped me and brought me through.

She hugs me again and then turns to her companion. “Lord Faramir,” she introduces him and slips her hand into his clasp. His eyes smile at the contact and an expression of belonging sweeps over them both.

I nod. “I remember you, noble steward, from the Houses of Healing,” I dip my head to him. They both hesitate and then Eowyn sits and beckons me to join her on the bench.

“I will leave you both to some time alone together,” Faramir bows respectfully. “I myself have business with Ellesar, tomorrow officially everything is handed over to his rule.” He bends to kiss Eowyn and lingers a long time on her lips. I try to hide my astonishment at this development but she sees the vestiges of it in my eyes when he leaves and she turns back to my gaze.

“We grew close very quickly, Rowannen,” she explains. “He has been a constant companion. In fact, soon we are to be married. Faramir will retain high rank and command, with duties here in Gondor and elsewhere in Ithilien. I shall stay here with him.”

Now I cannot suppress the gasp that springs from my throat. I am tempted to retort with many things, as the memory of her reaction to mine and Legolas’s love fills my mind. Just a reaction to grief and war she had implied. Are you sure you are in your right mind, she had asked, uncomprehending at the suddenness of my love. The similarities here impress themselves upon me and I cannot help but conclude that this is born of the loss of her Uncle and King, and herself unsure of her new status in Rohan. Also she is still recovering herself from battle and evil wounding. I am about to express my concern and then I see the happiness and quietness and certainty in her face, recall my own certainty at my love and I still my tongue. After all, when she threw accusations at me she was grieving, war was upon us and she did have her own brother’s interests to protect if she could. Her concerns were valid and as she had reminded me then, Legolas is an elf. I have no reasons to chide her now in return. Life has changed for us both. It seems there is no return to Rohan for her either.

Instead I hug her close and grin. “Eowyn I am so happy for you. Faramir seems to be a kind and clever man, with an inner strength. I look forward to knowing him better and I wish you both much joy.” She squeezes my fingers and we are silent for a moment as we look to the horizon. Thinking on this, I realise it is perhaps the best thing that could have happened, for who in Rohan would dare court her now, as sister to the King? It would be a brave Marshall indeed who attempted to win her affection and ask Eomer for her hand. Her bravery in battle is another factor that would make many men keep their distance in awe; and if indeed anything had grown between her and Aragorn as she had so wished, they would not have found happiness. I know this surely myself, for was not Aragorn beloved of an elf maiden, the sister of the twins? His heart was hers and although I cannot explain what it is in words, I know that having once loved an Elf, no ordinary human bonding would ever again give any satisfaction to a soul.

Eowyn begins to speak softly. “The battle changed me Rowannen. When I was wounded and drifted in a half life, nothing mattered anymore, none of the concerns and freedom that I had fought so hard for. I no longer wished for power and renown, though renown I now have, nor to rise in my hopes and expectations and be a Queen. None of it was important. I simply wished to live. Do you feel changed too, Rowannen?”

I shudder slightly, my darkness was the opposite, everything had mattered and I had wished to die. How very strange. “A little. I reply,” and brush past this unravellable line of thought speedily. “I have a good feeling about your new love, Eowyn. Had anything come of your feelings for Aragorn I think you would have brought each other sorrow, not joy. It is well how events have turned out.”

She nods at me “Faramir has many good qualities, some of which I saw in Aragorn and desired in a mate. He also has a capacity for giving and a depth to him and a calm heart, which complements me. I am blessed, I think.”

It is good to be close again and we lean into each other, happy to renew friendship after so much trouble. I tell her a little of the journey to the Black Gate and of battle horror, in response to her enquiries. We mention but briefly my injury, she sees I do not wish to dwell on it and instead turn our minds to lighter things, such as her choice of a silver white dress for her wedding. I promise to pile her hair high and let it fall in cascades and ask if she wishes the Rohan designs drawn on her skin.

“I think not, Rowannen. This is not a Rohirric wedding, not a marriage within our clans. I will but give some acknowledgment to my heritage. Perhaps you will paint my hands only? Shall we do that?”

I smile enthusiastically. “Yes we should. It will be a gesture to our people and our past but not so traditional as to keep your memory there and prevent you from moving into a different future with Faramir.”

For some time we chatter about many things, the healing skills here, the rebuilding which is already taking place, the constant flow of travellers arriving across the plains, even a merry discussion of Faramir’s kisses and how she appreciates them.

“What will you do, Rowannen?” Eowyn eventually asks, during a lull in our talk. “Will you stay here, make your home in this city? Legolas is very close to the King. I think he would want to keep him near.”

I had not thought of the future yet and the question leaves me pondering. “I do not know, Eowyn, nothing has been discussed yet or decided. I will do whatever Legolas chooses. I trust his judgement.” Even as the words are passing my lips I suddenly feel uneasy. I look around at the confining stone walls and courts, the streets rising high from the plain, hear the commotion of many voices and the clatter of humanity surrounding us even in this small, still haven and a feeling of oppression and confinement steals into me. I am not sure I can be completely happy living in a city. I wish to be out in the wild.

“I must go and see my mare, Eowyn. I have not seen her since the battle and she will miss me as I do her.”

Eowyn nods. “Meet us later, come for a drink at The Silver Bell?” she asks.

I agree and kiss her cheek. She pulls me close for a tight hug before I leave. The alleyways are busy as I weave my way through people. Travellers, still in dusty cloaks seek lodging. Young boys, baskets piled with produce pushing through the throng. Men with barrels of ale or casks of wine. Women with banners and flowers. The stable when I reach it in contrast is quiet. Other stalls on lower levels must be in use for the influx of visitors and the stable hands are therefore busy elsewhere. Only the sound of soft breathing the occasional muffled stamp of a hoof in thick straw and the contented munching of the haynets meets my ears. Until Feannim sees me that is, and bending her neck toward me whickers delightedly as I lean on the door. I push open the gate and step inside, She and Arod are together now in a double stall and I pat his neck too as he looks at me inquisitively before resuming his pulling at the hay. I fling my arms around Feannim’s neck and rub high up under her long mane. My fingers delighting in the smooth warmth of her, my nose drinking in her scent as I sink my head onto her, remembering my last sight of her stepping over me in protection. “Thank you, my Dragonfly. Thank you.” I whisper and her ears flicker backward and forward pricking, at the sound of my voice. I spend some time clearing the stable of fresh dung, still steaming sweetly in the air of a warm spring day, then refill the water trough and scatter some fresh straw before coming back to my mare wanting contact with her again.

Feannim stamps gently and blows her nostrils against my hair as I lean against her. Her short hair under my palm is smooth. I reach for the brushes and I work my fingers hard against her skin, glossing the hair and making her shine. When her body is gleaming I change the brush and sweep the dust from her mane, resting against her as I do so, appreciating the welcome, rich, warm perfume of her and thanking her again with my hands for her steadfastness and obedience in battle. It is good to be together again. I am so absorbed in my task of brushing straw from her long thick tail that I do not hear him enter and the first indication of his presence is the pressure of a hand upon my back. I start in surprise. He smiles, strokes gently to quiet me. I have to smile back; such a touch is akin to how I would calm a skittish colt.

“I did not expect you so soon, Legolas. I had thought you would be engaged in business until dusk.”

“My part in proceedings is arranged. I have been with you so constantly lately that these hours apart have seemed strange to me. I had to come and find you, meleth,” he explains.

I look at him, searching his face. Is it worry for my health that brings him back to me? I can understand that and yes, there is a slight concern about him, but
mostly it is pure need on his features. It shines from him, a longing and desire to be with me. I drop the brush and go to his arms. He crushes me to him and I can feel joy coursing through us both. His braid swings forward over his shoulder as he dips his head to my hair.

“Hay, you smell of hay. When first I kissed you meleth, remember that day? You smelt of new mown hay and apricots and honey.” He touches his lips to mine, his tongue flickering lightly within as I part mine in meeting. “Apricots are what you taste of.” He lifts some wisps of hay from my hair and flicks them to the floor.

“What of the honey?” I ask teasingly.

“Here, you are all honey.” His fingers pull up the hem of my skirts and trace high against the skin of my leg until he reaches what he seeks and strokes lightly. “See? Honey flowing just for me.” I shiver with delight as his finger swirls and then he brings it from under my clothing and lifts it to his lips and licks. I remember him tasting me like this the first night we made love and tasting me so wonderfully with his tongue in the tent at Dunharrow and I am immediately aflame, my eyes clouding with want, my legs weak.

“Oh Legolas, you should not. Not here, not now.”

He smiles just a little, the edges of his mouth lifting slightly at the corners.

“Why not? I see no one around. All are engaged elsewhere, Arod and Feannim care not.”

“You make me want you so much, almost uncontrollably,” I whisper and then laugh, because I realise it is silly to lower my voice when there is no one to hear but he.

The smile is dancing in his eyes now and he releases me, steps outside the stall and lifts a hay bale onto the floor in front of the stack he took it from. He sits down on it and leans back lazily against the rest.

“Is there some limit on the times you may want me? Some restrictive, finite number of the moments we may have pleasure of each other? I am not aware of any rule in that respect.” His eyes are gleaming with light, yet dark with mischief. His hands move under his tunic as he lifts it I see he has unlaced himself and now parts the leather, peeling it away from pale skin revealing a hardening arousal which springs almost gleefully from it’s confines and starts to flush with colour as it lengthens and pokes at such a lovely angle toward me, the head glistening with a pearly sheen, shining most at the elegant tip. I draw breath, transfixed.

He strokes gently up his length. “Come to me. Hama sinome. Sit on me. We have time to be together. Not every joining need be star spangled and earth shattering. Just be with me for a moment, cormamin.”

“Legolas, someone may enter!” I protest.

He smiles. “It is doubtful, given the duties all are presently engaged upon and if so, well what will they see? Just some beautiful young woman sat on the lap of her lover, no shame in that.”

I cannot resist him. He is perfect under my gaze, his engorged column turning dark peach as he hardens further. I move to him and sit astride laughing, letting my skirts fall around us as he grips my hips and lowers me onto him. My boots sink into the hay bale as my legs curl round him. Oh it is just beautiful to be one with him again like this, the pleasure floods my mind and senses. He holds me firmly as I lean against his arms and begins to rock me gently to and fro.

“So good. I have wanted you all day and now we can. Just for a few moments.”

“I have wanted you too, Legolas. My mind ever returns to you, whatever I am engaged upon and then I feel empty without you.”

“You are not empty now.”

“No.” I find myself gasp with the sensation of being filled so fully and I feel so whole. “If only we could stay like this always.”

“In a way we do, meleth. Though my body must leave you, my mind never does. I am always there for you.” He sighs and leans his head back against the haystack, eyes lowered with pleasure. “So good, but we should save great passion until later, not all joining needs to end in climax, lirimaer. Be with me just a little longer, but let it be easy, let us talk like this.”

He continues to rock me gently, smiling as he speaks. “I really came to tell you that the fences on the paddocks to the west of the city plains have been mended and made secure. We can take the horses and let them free, to graze on fresh grass.”

I look down at him overcome with love and physical sensation and also find myself fill with happiness and gratitude for this new development.

“Then life is indeed moving on, Legolas.” I manage to say as I bend to kiss him. Oh maybe that is a mistake. Bolts of lightening shoot through me and my body starts to flame. He steadies me as my movement becomes erratic and I hear him breathing deeply and regaining control. He lifts me carefully and slips from me.

“Until later. We will take Arod and Feannim now,” he smiles at me as I stand and he forces his arousal back into the confines of his clothing. “’Tis fortuitous I have a long tunic this day to cover my bodily state.” His lips brush my hair. “I shall enjoy being hard for you.”

I smile back at him, the very thought makes my eyes shine. “Then know that I am on fire for you also, my love.”

He opens the gate to the stall, reaches for Arod’s head collar and fastens it behind his ears and under his cheek before leading him out. “I will. I always do.”

LEGOLAS:

I have given much of my attention these past hours to business and ceremony and what is required from myself and others both tomorrow at the coronation and maybe in the future in allegiance to the king, my dear friend. Yet throughout I felt a longing for her, a part of me set aside wanting to have contact. When all is concluded I stay not for idle talk, but move swiftly into the city and seek her out. My intuition is correct and I find her in the stable brushing Feannim and singing and crooning softly as she sweeps straw from her tail. Arod is engaged in eating and notices me not, for I am silent. This affords me many moments to stand unobserved and watch her. I can see the child in her still as she works. I imagine her so small at Edoras learning her duties diligently. Now the love she has for her steed flows through her voice and her hands, such contentment between them. I move forward and reach to touch her bent back. She straightens, startled and then smiles and comes to me. I stroke her gently, tell her a little of my day. I mean to ask likewise of her meeting with Eowyn and enquire of her friend but the scent of her as she comes into my arms as I touch her is enough to drive such thought from me and I whisper words of love instead.

So beautiful and she wants me. Why deny such a force? I will not right now, for it was almost lost to us. She laughs and is easily persuaded when I draw her to the hay and show her my desire for her. Just for a few moments it is good to join with her. She swirls her skirts over and around us and wraps her legs behind me, the leather of her boots rasping against the skin of my hips as her knees bend and her feet sink into the bale. I breathe deeply and savour the sensation of filling her again and being loved and enclosed as I still retain some control. I would not bring this to completion now. I simply want intimate knowledge for a moment.

Besides words of love I tell her of the repairs to the pasture fencing and see the delight in her eyes at the thought of giving her mare a little freedom and fresh grass. “Until later.” I lift her from me with a smile. “I shall enjoy being hard for you.”

Rowannen follows me with Feannim and we take a quieter back route down through the city, slowly, to avoid the horses slipping too often on the shiny cobbles. We exit through a small side gate, which is not as badly damaged as the main entrance and soon reach the fields. Men are nailing and hammering and putting the finishing touches to long fences. They are unpainted as yet but from the vestiges of old fencing still intact I can see that once they were painted white as befits the white city and no doubt will be again. We release our steeds and lean on the railing as we watch them kick their heels and race across the new springing turf towards the other horses already let out to pasture. It is impossible not to smile as we see their joy. Arod bucks and flicks out his hooves. Feannim lies and rolls joyfully. It is good to see such unrestrained joy. Rowannen grins delightedly at me.

“We too now have some freedom, as they do, Rowannen. Freedom to roam, but still within confines.” I take her arm. “I need to decide where to go next and what to do. There are many factors that may influence this decision, my love for you, my loyalties to my friends and their expectations, my own desires. You must tell me if there is something that you wish greatly, something you need, so that we can decide together.”

She stares into my eyes. “I will Legolas, I promise, for now, know that I find it difficult in a city. I will go with you wherever you wish, but for my happiness I would rather be away from here, somewhere empty and wild.” She stirs then as if remembrance. “The prophecy. I read it in the library, Legolas.”

“You found it? What Gandalf spoke of? I am glad. Will you show me?”

We make our way back into the city and the library; my heart is stirred with hope that indeed something is foretold. The book lies open still upon the table as if no one has been here since she left. Not a wonder with so much else to occupy the populace. I scan the words attributed to Lorien, though nothing there speaks to me vividly. It is all vague. “The keeper of dreams and visions has great power,” I muse, and read again out loud as if to commit the words to memory. “It says little of detail but it gives knowledge that the world will be renewed and that we have some part to play. I am the woodland, Rowannen; you the grassland and we will indeed go forth into the fourth age together. The rest will be revealed in time. Maybe because we are granted the space to take our own roads within the Valar’s will.” We stand for a moment savouring the sweet hope of our future. “Meleth, I assure you, our future is constantly in my prayers. Some answer will come to me, some certainty and direction.”

Rowannen curls her arm around my waist and looks at me with trust in her eyes. She tells me of her day with Eowyn as we wander through the streets. It is growing late, although the light is lasting longer into the evening now as the spring days advance. “We have been invited to The Silver bell, Legolas,” she concludes her narration.

“Then we must go. Indeed it is time we ate.”

The inn is filling. We find seats in a wide alcove by a window. Eowyn and Faramir are already seated. Aragorn stays but a short time, finishes his ale and leaves. He has duties to attend to still and the office of King will give less time for idle merriment with his fellows however much he would wish it otherwise. He smiles a little ruefully at me as he leaves and Elladan and Elrohir arrive to take his place. We spend time in laughter and jest together with a large carafe of ruby wine to share. Faramir proves an amiable companion and Eowyn is more flushed and merry than I have seen her hitherto.

The serving wenches are flustered with the numbers of patrons requiring food and our hunger grows as we wait. Rowannen rises and with a smile announces her intentions to go and relieve them of their burden. Even as we look up she is wending her way through the tables, speaking to the bartenders and lifting platters of steaming food and carrying them to the waiting tables.

Elladan raises his eyebrows and smiles. Eowyn frowns. “Legolas, is it fitting that your lady should take on the duties of a serving wench?” Faramir asks me. Eowyn’s expression shows that she concurs with his question.

I watch her weave through the throng smiling, her deep red skirt flowing around her as she bends and deposits bowls and flagons onto the scrubbed trestles. She does not look like a servant to me, rather a fire spirit in the candlelight, dispensing warmth and cheer. I smile at my friends.

“I think you know by now that she has a mind and light of her own, that I would not bend or quench.”

They silence then and turn talk to other matters. I listen with one ear but watch her constantly.

“Las, can you not tear your eyes from her for a moment?” asks Elrohir, when I fail to laugh at his current jest.

“Leave him, gwanor. He almost lost her,” Elladan rejoins immediately, then he sends thoughts to his twins mind and lets me hear the sensual flow of them. ‘You know I am in no danger of losing you and yet I watch you constantly, Ro.’

I smile at them and my eyes again are drawn to where she is. When some soldier boldened with ale reaches a hand around her waist and squeezes, at that moment she tilts her bowl and hot soup spills into his lap. I see her expression of feigned shock and smile at her strategy. This is not war at the black gate but still I feel a shiver of need to protect her from harm and I am glad when she returns to us with food for our party. She sets down hot bread, a plate of beef with spiced sauces and a tureen of vegetables and cream to glaze them.

Eowyn raises her head. “Thank you Rowannen, but you needed not assist the servants. You may no longer have hope of being a princess or queen but you still hold some nobility even here and should be waited upon instead.”

Rowannen looks at her friend steadily. “Eowyn, when did we ever not serve in some capacity at Edoras? The office of nobility and royalty is not just one of power, it involves much service. A King is a leader yes but more so a servant of his people. My actions merely mean that we can eat sooner than we would have done otherwise and it was fun.”

She slides besides me onto the bench and I reach for some food and fill a plate for her, refill her goblet before I turn to Eowyn.

“She is right,” I tell them. “The greater power one holds, the greater need for its servility to something, be that a nation of people, a cause or the Valar. We have all seen what power for its own end almost wrought here in Arda and has done in the past.”

I lift my eyes to the assembled company but address my next words to her friend. “She does indeed have hope of being a princess, Eowyn. Not of her own realm as past thought, but of mine.” The words pass my lips before I have time to digest the full thought of them and suddenly I know what has been in the back of my mind these last days. The twins look sharply at me, aware of what my intentions are and I flash them a thought. ‘Yes, it is sudden but I have considered. Give me leave to hold this thought a while, gwenyn.” They lower their eyes. Rowannen glances at me as she starts to eat, a question in her face, but she reads my countenance and continues with her meal, content to wait until I am ready to speak further.

We spend a pleasant hour in talk and listening to song and music from the minstrels who begin to play. Faramir knows the ballads and joins in at times with a gentle rounded voice and Eowyn listen to him with a rapt smile. It grows late and the candles are burning low when they take their leave. It is apparent they wish time alone, but as she watches their exit, Rowannen says softly. “Whatever intimacy they are bent upon, she will not offer her virginity to him until they are married.” I look at her my breathing slow, realise her thoughts are with her own culture again. “Are you sorry that you have, meleth?” I ask equally quietly.

She lifts her eyes to mine then, bright and twinkling with the flicker of candle flame. “You know I am not. ‘Twas just a passing thought for my friend and a recognition of something that can have no bearing for me again.” Her hand slips under the table and when her fingers find me and stroke over the confining leather I am left in no doubt of her joy of me. She pours more wine and we relax together in what is the first night for a long time when we have been free of worry or pain.

The tavern has grown quiet; travellers wearied from their journeys have leave to seek repose. The musicians are playing very gentle melodies now that speak of sleep and dreams. Across from us Elladan puts down his goblet onto the scrubbed oak and lifts his hand instead to his brothers cheek. A strange magic steals across the air between them and wraps itself around us like pipeweed smoke. His head moves close to his brother, their breathing is in time and a stardust shimmer seems to glow between them. They hesitate just for a second, prolonging the sensation, then Elladan leans in and captures his twins lips with his own. Sensuous and slow and fitting perfectly they move against each other with a sigh, bodies close. Eyelids lowered and shuttered now, sealing out everything but themselves. We watch ebony eyelashes sweep chiselled, masculine cheekbones. Elrohir responds, moving closer still, promising a hardness to match his lovers own. I imagine their tongues must be searching and caressing each other, taking turns to be dominant or submissive. The fine profile of Elrohir’s straight nose matches his twins. Their arms are about each other, Elrohir’s palm pressed against the firm muscle of his brother’s chest. Their free hands trace into each other’s hair. Those identical long fingers belong to strong sword wielding hands, but are blissfully gentle now as they weave their knuckles and pale neat nails through the fall of each others sable locks, which shiver like dark water over the skin of their moving wrists and down their bodies.

I hear Rowannen almost cease breathing. I can feel the heat rising and know she is conjuring visions of how they would look fully naked, making love. I am conscious of her pressing closer against my body. Gradually the shimmer fades and with another sigh Elladan and Elrohir release each other very carefully and gradually. It seems as if they are moving through air thick as treacle and are reluctant to break from such deep absorption.

Elrohir lifts his head slowly, picks up his wine to quaff the remainder and breaks the spell. He sees my beloved staring transfixed.

“Rowannen, I apologize if we offended. It was not our intention to cause you embarrassment. I understand this is new to you.” His grey eyes regard her with a slight concern.

She shakes her head. “Legolas has explained to me. I am not embarrassed Elrohir. Rather it is you who should forgive me. I should not stare at you, but I must confess to some fascination. I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful.”

Elladan smiles and his brother’s lips curl upward also, lightly bruised and full from their recent contact.

“That would be because it is beautiful,” he says softly in his deep musical voice. “To join with my twin and he with me is a unity unexplainable.” He turns to gaze at Elrohir before addressing her again. “We are different and individual and yet one and utterly the same. When we touch, it is like reaching towards a mirror and finding not a flat, impenetrable surface but a fluid, yielding one. The barrier dissolves and we each pass through the looking glass to the other side and become indistinguishable from the other when we join.”

A shaft of moonlight freed from the clouds silvers through the window and lights their heads with an unearthly sheen. Their hair glows almost blue it is so darkly black in this glowing corner and their eyes shine like mithril, maybe with passion, which they wish to consummate soon. I see Rowannen blush slightly, she can feel it too. They smile at us, following our pattern of thought.

“You can go some way towards reparation for your stare.” Elrohir grins at Rowannen as he replaces his empty glass. “Return the favour. Kiss Legolas, whilst we watch.”

She turns to smile at me. The love of the twins for each other and also for us, alleviates any feeling of self-consciousness on her part. She raises her head to my face as I dip to meet her. Our lips touch gently, searchingly, with such tenderness and feeling. Not with lust, although some desire is present, but with infinite inexhaustible love. I am filled with a wondrous power, with light. Her sweet, slender fingers come to frame my cheek; my strong ones thread into her hair and twist lightly. It is our turn to shut out all the world and as our lips move together and we meld, we do.
“Now that is beautiful.” Elladan says quietly, when we part at last. “On that note we should retire and seek our rest.” He stands and then turns back to us. “I forgot to tell you Las, I did not mention it earlier when Estel was still here. He has much already on his mind for the morrow and I wish it to be a surprise, but I can feel my father drawing near. He will come and he has Arwen with him.” The smile of the twins widens at my expression.

“Then tomorrow will indeed be a happy day.”