Promises Made: Legolas/ Elladan

Meetings Two

Elladan winced a little as Legolas’ enthusiastic embrace caught his arm. Stepping back with his uninjured arm still around the young elf, Elladan grinned, one of the few genuine signs of happiness that had touched his face for many a year. Elrohir smiled as he watched, joy at seeing the meeting between the two passing with little of the reluctance he feared from Elladan.

“No longer the little one I found so often at my side,” Elladan noted with amusement in his voice, “it is good to have you with us again.” Elladan’s eyes drifted to the elf standing beside his brother, “and bringing another.”

Legolas nodded, beckoning Estar to him. “Estar, I present Lord Elladan,” he announced with a softness that underlined his affection for both.

“My lord,” Estar bowed.

“Elladan,” Elladan answered, clasping Estar with his hand, “welcome to Imladris Estar.” Elladan looked to his brother with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “I take it you have met my brother.”

Estar lowered his eyes, blushing as Elrohir shook his head at his brother. “You may assume so, dear brother,” Elrohir replied as he stood closer to Estar. “We find we have much in common and enjoy many similar things.”

Legolas grinned. Estar had confided his talks with Elrohir and Legolas had not missed the light in his eyes when he did so. It was early days yet, but the promise was there, particularly when he stood with Elrohir and the twin glanced to him with such affection.

The days and nights that Elladan had been under the healing influence of sleep had seen Elrohir speak of him to Estar. Legolas had been a more than occasional visitor to the injured twin’s side, but protocol and duty had dictated his opportunities in ways that did not affect Estar. Elrohir found the young elf easy to talk to, he was considered in his comments, thoughtful and discrete. What Elrohir confided mostly was nothing that was not known in Imladris, but it was knowledge that would allow Estar to gain an insight into Elladan’s demeanour as witnessed by his brother, knowledge that would allow Estar to offer comfort to Legolas to what Elrohir knew would be challenging times once Elladan awoke. It was not, Elrohir explained, a lack of affection for Legolas, even love for him, that would keep Elladan away, but the fear of misinterpreting what he felt, and the desire to not have Legolas suffer.

“He knows,” Elrohir had replied when Estar had spoken of Legolas’ experiences, “he guarded them as much as he could, except in moments of extreme emotion, when there was little control to be had.” The news had only confirmed what Elrohir already understood, what he had tried to convey to Elladan. “I fear he does not want to acknowledge it lest it is the relief from the grief he suffers that he feels, and not the union of souls.”


“You are well?” Legolas asked as he and Elladan walked alone along the garden paths that they had frequented so often when Legolas would clutch Elladan’s hand tight while the older elf told him stories of the past. Now they walked on equal terms, Legolas able to search the grey eyes for an answer.

Elladan looked down at his arm, tied as it was across his chest to keep him from an unnecessary movement.

“It is healing to Ada’s satisfaction, though he will not allow me to test it,” Elladan replied.

It was a rare time alone. Elladan by due care or coincidence had surrounded himself with others, delaying this very moment. Even now he wished there was some way he could escape from the solitary company, much as he yearned for it.

It could not continue Elrohir had suggested more than once, urging his brother to give Legolas sufficient explanation. Estar had been a stoic companion without revealing too much, for it fell to Elladan to speak of his feelings to the prince, not for another to pre-empt his words.

“Do not delay overly long Elladan,” Elrohir had advised finally, “you both deserve better than this silence that exists between you on matters of import.” Elrohir could not fault Elladan’s involvement with Legolas. That Elladan enjoyed his company was apparent to all, but it was more a return to past days than it was a reflection of the present. Legolas for his part accepted the situation, preferring it to the alternative of Elladan’s exclusion from the group.

Finally Elladan had acquiesced to the gentle pressure. At first the conversation was as it had always been, memories of adventures shared until Elladan looked away as the approached the pool of silver water.

There was silence for a moment until Legolas ventured to place his hand on Elladan’s arm.

“I felt,” he began, “it was as though I was with you.”

“I am sorry,” Elladan whispered, “I did not intend it.”

“Some of it was …..pleasant,” Legolas smiled as Elladan laughed softly.

“Then perhaps I am less sorry for that.”

“Elladan…….” Legolas whispered as the twin again fell silent, “we…I was told……they taught me…..”

Elladan shook his head, not ready to broach this with the young one, wondering if he would ever be ready. So much time had passed yet the wounds were still raw, made ragged by the presence of Legolas before him.

“I know what lore they would have imparted to you,” Elladan said quietly, avoiding the gaze of the prince. “I know the reasons they would have offered to you……I felt you too, Legolas, I shared along with you for a long time, until it was no longer appropriate for me……you needed to experience life on your own, not with another. I tried to shield you from what I felt, for that was not for you either. I failed to protect you as I should.”

“No, Elladan, it was beyond the control of either of us, there is none to blame.”

The bell that announced the midday meal rang in the distance. Elladan’s demeanour changed as he looked up to Legolas with a smile that belied the sadness in his eyes. “We best not be late.”

“No, we best not,” Legolas agreed, realising this was as much as Elladan would allow himself to give. He had hoped for more, that they would come to some point of understanding, an aching heart called to Elladan, wanting to offer him love and peace. The gift was not rejected unconditionally but the barrier that existed fended it off. Legolas fought the need to take Elladan in his arms the way the older elf had taken an elfling of long ago when hurts dissolved into tears. Elladan had made him feel that it would not always be like that. He wanted to offer that safety, to restore the connection that had existed so easily in those days. To bring back some of the ties that had come about without thought when he little understood what it all meant. Now he knew what the bonds were, but found Elladan unwilling to accept.

Elladan once more eluded Legolas’ attentions as the meal ended. He slipped away to his rooms, seeking solitude to order the whirl of thoughts and the confusion of feelings that he had experienced since Legolas had arrived. It would be so easy to give in to the love he felt, gathering the strong strands that held them to each other, drawing strength from each other, accepting that this was his destiny. It was not how he had shared life with Gelmir, Elladan recognised the difference, yet that was what haunted him. What he could not reconcile was the consequence if he was wrong.


It was late in the evening before Elladan left the sanctuary of his private chambers. He walked slowly along the familiar paths, unaware of world around him. From the balcony Elrohir watched him, watched too the one who followed. Elrohir smiled at the young one’s tenacity, not sure he would pursue when there existed so much uncertainty. He leaned back as slender arms threaded round his waist.

“It will be different this time,” Elrohir whispered as he turned to kiss Estar, “Elladan is ready.” Elrohir had felt the raw conflict, the search for resolution, the need for peace so many times, but this was so very different to those long years.


Legolas was quiet. It had not been his intention to follow Elladan when he had glimpsed the dark haired elf walking along the path, had not thought to find himself in this place watching Elladan. He knew of course the significance of where he stood surrounded by the memorials to the fallen.

Elladan traced his finger over the smooth marble, tears flowing as he pressed his forehead to the sculpture, his lips against the cold cheek. The wind blew gently picking up the leaves that littered the pathway, swirling them in circles. Elladan closed his eyes as the breeze caressed his face and whispered its message. Warm air brushed over his lips as he heard.

“Elladan?” Legolas murmured as he stepped forward into the silver light.

Elladan turned, his face streaked with tears as he wept anew, burying his head as he was embraced. Legolas cupped his head in the palm of his hand while he rocked him gently, kissing softly the dark hair. They stood until Elladan could weep no more, the strength of Legolas’ support never wavering.


In Elladan’s room, seated on the floor beside the fire, they cradled each other as Elladan recounted his story. Legolas mourned with him the loss of love, tears stinging his eyes as he recalled the pain of the grieving Elladan as he held the dying Gelmir. Tentatively Legolas reached out, releasing the control he had been taught, touching Elladan. Elladan looked up, and for a moment Legolas thought his advance would be met with the same coldness he had felt before. Elladan touched Legolas’ cheek and let go. Legolas gasped at the warmth that flooded his soul, Elladan pressed his lips to a yielding mouth, acknowledgement of what existed between them. Careful hands removed clothing, lips did not part as Elladan lay back naked on the fur rug, pulling Legolas to him.

Legolas reeled from the openness of Elladan’s soul, gasped anew at the fire of his touch on his body. Elladan’s fingertips caressed the curve of his spine, the rise of his buttocks, a hand smoothed over his arm. Dark hair mingled with light as Elladan turned his head, baring his throat, nails scraping as Legolas bit into his flesh. Long slender legs curled over and around each other, two beings oblivious to the world around them arched and swayed their bodies to their own rhythm, calling to each other, crying out as sensitive skin brushed and rubbed. They shared with each other the rawness of their emotions, breaking, panting to catch breath and reality. They had kissed and explored each other in the way of lovers and although evidence of their pleasure in that gleamed on their bodies, they went no further. There was still much to learn about each other, and Elladan realised as they lay in silence together, the opportunity to discover. The uncertainty of the world echoed around them, but no longer did Elladan fear it. Legolas smiled as an arm curled around him, Elladan’s acceptance resonating within him as he drifted to sleep.

Elladan lay awake a little longer, staring at the dancing flames in the grate, listening to the rustle of the trees outside, glancing down to touch the sleeping elf in his arms, threading the golden strands of hair through his fingers. He turned his head as the tears came, glancing back when he felt the soothing touch of Legolas’ love. Letting that surround him, Elladan smiled and bade the day goodbye. On the morrow he would talk to his brother, telling him the news, and with Legolas’ consent choose the binding rings.

“Thank you,” he whispered sleepily as the wind found its way passed the curtains to caress his cheek.