Feud
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Rating:
Adult ++
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
125
Views:
27,605
Reviews:
413
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Legolas Nestannen (Legolas Healed)
Feud
www.feud.shadowess.com
by erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK, all remaining errors are my fault.
Disclaimer: The recognised characters and settings used in this fiction were created by JRR Tolkien. The words, other characters, and ideas here surrounding them belong to erobey alone. No infringement is intended or monies earned through this work.
Mereth Bardolel (Homecoming Party) Part two
Lindalcon waited at the entrance to the maze, sadly noting that the blossoming bromeliads were encased in white fluff and likely to be ruined by the time Anor reappeared to melt away the frozen encrustation. He shifted from foot to foot, stamping his bear-hide mukluks to increase the circulation down to his toes. Valtamar's son did not like the cold much and tucked his hands down inside the folds of his woollen cape after tugging the fox-fur trimmed hood closer over his eyes. He scanned the pathway carefully for any sign of the svelte form of the archer and then turned to inspect the limbs above in case his brother decided to take the more lofty route. Lindalcon sighed in impatient irritation.
What is taking so long? Legolas is an early riser.
No sooner had he asked himself this than he laughed aloud at the risqué subaudition and his vivacious imagination provided the answer in graphic detail. He grinned delightedly, hoping he was correct and the two lovers were indeed enjoying a last episode of bliss in the secluded talan. His thoughts turned then to his own future and how soon it would be before he met the one who would share his soul. Thus far, he had met numerous ellyth that stirred his blood, yet none had seemed to judge his presence noteworthy much less returned the interest. He exhaled his frustrated confusion.
Am I so unattractive? What am I doing wrong? Is it because of my status after Adar's death?
These were things he would once have taken to his Naneth, pouring out his fears and insecurities before her calmly serene attention, confident of receiving the wisdom he needed and reassurance that there was nothing lacking in him. Now, he found he could not imagine trusting her with any of his heart's concerns, and this truth overwhelmed him with sorrow anew. Lindalcon twisted the pain into anger and kicked at the tree sheltering him from the snow. The offended evergreen responded by dropping a branchfull of the accumulated precipitation upon his head.
"Elbereth's Tits!" he shouted as he shook the frigid load from his cloak. The pack holding an overcoat for Legolas and clothing for Erestor was also buried so he hastened to dig it free, brushing away the milky mantle before it melted and seeped inside. "Úcerin nauthad sui Gladdie câr; Vairë na torog vaug!" (I do not think as Gladdie does; Vairë is a tyrannous troll!) Lindalcon glunched in vexation. Almost immediately bright laughter sounded from the way ahead and the youth looked up to behold Legolas bounding toward him.
"Legolas!" Lindalcon called out as his brother leaped upon him, toppling them both to the frozen ground. "Ai! You will get us soaked! Off me, you rogue!"
"You are the troublemaker!" scolded the wild elf. He jumped up and offered a hand to assist Lindalcon and more merriment bubbled out as he was yanked into a strangling embrace. "Maligning Vairë and the kind healer who is Naneth Edwen (second mother) to me. And what have you done with my things?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Lindalcon dissembled through his gloating giggles. "Is something missing, Legolas? Did you misplace every stitch of clothing you were wearing when last I beheld you? However did that happen? Perhaps we should inform Iarwain that there is a thief among the population."
He released his hold and stepped back to take in the sight of the Tawarwaith. Legolas' feet were bare and his hair was loose around his shoulders, the seneschal's leggings and tunic, both of which were much too large, cinched around his narrow waist. If not for the leather belt, the pants, rolled up at the hems to prevent tripping on them, would no doubt slip down into the powdery duff. Legolas was clutching tightly to the front of the tunic to prevent it from sliding off his shoulder and smiling hugely in spite of the cold, which had reddened the tip of his nose and chapped his cheeks.
But what made the younger elf catch and hold his breath was the change in the archer's eyes. From the depths of clear ultramarine shone the expected fiery gleam of strength, the stubborn boldness and insurmountable determination to survive, so vital a component of his character; these were certainly still there. The deeply ingrained sadness, the dull tarnish of hopelessness invading the intelligent spirit, these were vanished. No longer did the tormented glaze of isolation and loneliness jade the clarity of the vibrant orbs. The bereft and torn remnants of the shattered soul could be seen renewed, knitted together in the unmistakable spark of new life granted by the full expression of the seneschal's love, equally returned by the wild elf's spirit.
Legolas let him look as long as he wished and self-consciously endured the scrutiny, for truthfully he needed this objective confirmation of the unique sensation filling his entire being. Was it real? Was he bound to Berenaur?
Lindalcon's inspection ended and he exhaled with gleeful satisfaction as the two acknowledged each other once more, eyes meeting, mouths breaking into even larger smiles. He caught Legolas close and held him tight, laughing in relieved gladness. They separated and there was no need to speak of what was so sacred and so obvious.
"Aye, a robber, a sneaking criminal snooping about in private quarters, lifting what does not belong to him!" Legolas chastened, referring back to the jest, but his exuberant expression betrayed pure joy over the joke, for such pranks were traditional between brothers during bonding rites. Legolas had never hoped to have such antics to grouse over.
"And when have the Wood Elves ever used the base of a tree for quarters?" Lindalcon smirked back and enjoyed the rapid rise of colour that turned his friend's ears red and the sheepish grin just materialising as Legolas averted his face. Lindalcon's gaze took all this in as it swept over the ridiculously clad form, ending at the exposed toes. The digits looked decidedly too blue for healthy skin and the youth exclaimed in dismay.
"Oh Valar! I forgot to bring shoes." He reached into the pack and shook out the cloak, throwing it around Legolas' shoulders and fastening it securely. "Sorry! Hurry to Fearfaron; he is waiting for you."
"Alright," the wild elf pulled the hood over his head and clasped Lindalcon to his heart swiftly. "We shall talk later, then. Hannad, tôr dithen! (Thanks, little brother!)," he whispered and sped away to conceal the teary exultation overflowing from his soul.
Legolas raced down the empty trail, too worried over what Fearfaron would say to notice the discreet glimpses of indulgently smiling faces peeking from behind curtained talans above. Everyone in the city was now involved in the drama and wanted a first look at their Tawarwaith and his mate as they emerged, freshly bonded and eternally united, from the concealing maze. Not a few of the folk became concerned to observe their champion alone and running with desperate speed for his foster-father's abode. As is so often the case where gossip is involved, the negative view was the first taken and talk commenced denouncing the Noldo for apostasy. A growing number of elves began making their way to the stronghold, searching for the false-hearted rake. Of this none of the principals in the events were aware.
As Lindalcon had predicted, Fearfaron was indeed awaiting his adopted son, standing at the very edge of his talan as he watched for Legolas to appear. He fidgeted and paced, rearranged the tray of fruit, goblets, and a flagon of wine set upon his small oval dining table. He strode inside to his bedchamber only to stalk back out the next instant, having forgotten what he went to retrieve. He moved to the brazier and added more fuel, stirring the embers, and re-fluffed the pillows scattered on the floor. Standing straight again, he returned to stare out into the woods. Overwrought with fears, Fearfaron tried to prepare himself for whatever outcome transpired. Yet reason dictated that the bonding had gone well or Legolas would have sought him out immediately.
Except how is he to judge if everything proceeded correctly?
Fearfaron groaned dismally and prayed he would not find the warrior more depressed and woebegone than before. He berated himself for not making clear to Legolas the signs that would indicate a bond was forming. He was certain no one had ever discussed such things with him openly and now the carpenter must include himself in the number that had neglected the wild elf's instruction. It was difficult, his conscience consoled, to speak of anything intimate in nature with Legolas, so ingrained was the conditioning to keep secret his desires. For probably the thousandth time, the carpenter cursed Malthen vilely and added in Thranduil and Ningloriel as well.
And let me not forget the contribution from the Lord of Imladris and his faithful seneschal!
Try as he might, the Spirit Hunter could not completely get past the facts of Erestor's initial intent for travelling to the Greenwood and his current arrangement as part of a loosely-bound lover's triad. So laxly joined was he that his mates cared not if he bedded a veritable host of other elves, of both genders, all of them very much younger than the Noldo, according to Mithrandir and Aiwendil.
Still, in spite of their early objections, the Istari were now thoroughly supportive of the Imladrian's actions. What exactly had generated this reversal they had not been willing to detail, but the human was equally convinced. Admittedly, the advisor from Imladris had deported himself honourably throughout the hearing. This gave Fearfaron hope that Legolas' love would not be forsaken a second time.
For if Legolas gives his heart again only to have it rejected how shall he survive this? But if he is not spurned, what sort of love will be granted him in return? Legolas does not know how to judge whether he is being used or treasured. Mayhap the Noldo is incapable of devotion on that level.
Lindalcon had astutely pointed out the seneschal's lack of outward evidence of commitment to the Galadhrim warriors that supposedly held his heart. Yet if his bond with them did prove strong and true, how would he be able to include Legolas without seeking their knowledge and approval? Fearfaron sighed loudly, realising he was allowing his thoughts to run in circles with the only effect that of increasing his dread. Just when he had talked himself into believing Erestor would prove faithless, Legolas arrived, tearing around the curve of the track on the ground below as though a troop of Yrch pursued him.
"Ada!" he called and, scrambling up the rope ladder, vaulted through the trap door and cast himself into Fearfaron's arms, clinging so hard the grip pained the humble carpenter's sides.
Fearfaron squeezed back, alarmed, for his fosterling was shuddering with sobs and wailing plaintively, the words lost in the gulping gasps and hiccups as tears dampened his neck.
"Ai! Legolas, Legolas! Has he harmed you? Speak!" The talan builder could not bear this and his rage fired up instantly as he guided his second son over to the warmth of the brazier and sat with him upon the cushions arranged there before the grate. "Hush, be calm," he soothed gently and pushed back the hood to stroke the golden mane affectionately. "Tell me what has happened."
Under his adopted father's kindly touch Legolas did relax and gradually regained command of his voice. He nuzzled against the lanky elf's shoulder and sighed deeply, gathering his nerve to repeat himself, firmly resolved not to dissolve into weeping this time.
"He loves me, Ada! Berenaur loves me. And I, I love him also. We are bound, Ada, one to another," he managed though his voice wavered and the force of the emotion threatened to overcome his will and send fresh tears cascading down his cheeks.
Fearfaron sat him back at arms' length and searched the gleam in Legolas' watery blue gaze. What he found made him gasp one second and shout for joy the next as he snatched the long-suffering elf back against his chest, rocking him and laughing and crying together, completely muffling whatever the Tawarwaith was trying to say. For some minutes they just sat thus, allowing the wonder of it to envelop them, finding they needed no words after all. When the tears slowed to a trickle, Fearfaron disengaged again and studied this new Legolas, whole and complete at last, and positively wallowed in the peaceful contentment emanating from him.
"You are not angry, are you?" pleaded Legolas to his father's surprise. "Or disappointed?"
"Angry? Not with you, though I admit my trust in the seneschal's intentions has been thinner than
stands of oaks rooted in a flood plain. I cannot remain displeased in the reflection of your joy, however. After I see for myself that the same light that now fills your eyes abides in his soul also, I will be satisfied. Besides, at least he is an elf."
"What else would he be?" Legolas' face betrayed his bewilderment.
"A wizard!" Fearfaron blurted. "Mithrandir's gift of sustaining essence seemed suspect to me. I feared he would use this link to enthral your heart."
"Nay, he does not view me with that sort of interest, I am certain, for he is Istar and to such the body is not essential but rather a material manifestation for our benefit, that we need not be discomfited by his ghostly nature."
"Perhaps. Nonetheless, I feared you would be enchanted by the glory of Aman clinging so thickly about him. Nor can you deny that he has a claim upon you."
"Aye, Ada, I owe Mithrandir my life. I would never have lasted on the journey back to you without his aid. He is part of me, yes, but it is more like my connection with Tawar." Legolas was finally able to understand the tension he had noted between the two parental figures in his life and sighed. "Valar, I could have resolved this had one of you said something to me!" he fussed.
"Peace, ion edwen, this I know. We did not want to add to your burdens, that is all. And it is decided now anyway, is it not? For Mithrandir's timely assistance I am eternally grateful nor do I mean to blacken your friend and benefactor's character. And as to disappointment over this bonding, how could I be dissatisfied when you come to me renewed and jubilant?"
"Well, I did not seek your counsel, and I have not been properly courted or betrothed, nor have I given…"
"Ai Valar! None of that matters when I look upon you now!" assured Fearfaron, shaking Legolas a little and smiling. "You are an adult, after all, and need not seek anyone's permission to join your feä with another's."
Legolas' grin was unlike any expression the carpenter had ever imagined him capable of forming, so giddy with ease and delight was the countenance presented.
"My happiness is complete, then!" he said. "I could not have abided your displeasure over this and, though I did not say so to Berenaur, I would not remain by his side if you opposed the match."
Fearfaron's brows rose to his hairline to hear this and he chuckled as he shook his head. "That is too drastic a decision and one you would be incapable of adhering to! Even so, I will insist this Noldo wear a ring of your choosing and for you to wear his."
Legolas' mouth fell open and the carpenter nearly fell over in laughter to observe this state of amazed and stupefied shock.
"But, he does not wear…Berenaur has no rings…I have not asked him about this! Why are you laughing?" he stuttered and Fearfaron at once ceased, for there was real terror there.
"You worry about the Galadhrim?" he queried compassionately and Legolas swallowed before nodding quickly and dropping his gaze to the hands in his lap. Fearfaron did likewise and found the fingers writhing in entwined distress. He covered them with his right hand, lifted Legolas' chin with his left, and softly kissed his son's forehead.
"Nay, do not concern yourself over them. That is a matter to be settled between Erestor and his mates. This is not an issue for you to embrace," he said, staring into the cobalt gaze, alight with the fire of the newly kindled bond, and smiled to realise he had just repeated the healer's reassurance.
"But I am one of his mates now, also," Legolas shook his head and leaned in against the steady support of the carpenter's shoulder. "I fear he will not be able to give me much of his time," he whispered this, the possibility that threatened to gnaw away his just-found joy, desperate for his Ada to refute the notion out of hand.
And Fearfaron heard the plea and wrapped strong arms protectively about the Tawarwaith's slender shoulders. "Put the thought aside," he commanded. "I will speak of this with Erestor and learn what we may expect. Whatever he may reveal, I can assert that he has given himself to you; it is clear for all to see if they but spare a glance at you. Indeed, perhaps it is for the Galadhrim we must be concerned!"
"Aye, I do worry for that, too," complained Legolas. "I do not wish to be the cause for any sorrow to find them, for they have done no wrong to me, or to Berenaur either from his own words."
"I understand, Legolas, but you must guard against this encroaching guilt or it will stunt the development of the bond you have forged. Trust in me, we will find a way to work out the details. Now, I heard that you are in need of clothing, is this so? What is this costume you have donned?" he teased, hoping to turn his son's thoughts away from fears that could not be easily allayed. He stood, pulling Legolas up with him, and shoved open the cloak, forehead frowning while lips disclosed his mirth, to examine the ill-fitting apparel. He chuckled at Legolas' embarrassed blush suffusing smiling features.
"That is Lindalcon's doing!"
"Oh? He assured me he found all your clothes, and Erestor's boots, dumped at the foot of some tree somewhere, with neither of you in sight. I am certain he only meant to prevent the items from getting torn and dirty."
"Ai! I will pay him back during his bonding rights."
"I am sure of that, and I plan to assist you! For the moment, however, I think a bath and fresh garments will make everything right. I have prepared the necessities in advance and all you need to do is collect your mate and find your way to the baths." So saying Fearfaron reached for a hefty pack near the trunk of the tree and handed it to Legolas, draping the hood back over the forest champion's tresses and leading him to the ladder. "Off you go, then; I will wait for you and Erestor to return here."
Legolas turned to leave but stopped and dropped the satchel, grabbing Fearfaron up in a quick hug followed by a kiss on the cheek. "Hannad, Ada," he said and clutching up the bag, disappeared through the opening in a flash of gold as the hood of the cloak fell back. He was racing again, singing a hymn to Tawar as he went, and Fearfaron smiled delightedly to hear it, bursting into laughter as he spotted Gladhadithen leap from the branches and go sprinting in his wake.
Continued.