Behind the Shadows of the Soul I : In your Eyes

Disclaimer and other babble, see previous parts...
Previous chapters can be found at: www.thecrystal.cjb.net

Dedicated to my dear Haz, whom I love so much...

Thanks to Dorothy an Bev who betaed this.

**

The feast was at its height. Many elves had gathered in the vast reception hall, some sitting at their place, others standing and talking, a glass of wine in their hands. All were clothed in their finest silken robes. It was said that the elves were fair folk, and this night proved it more than any other, for they were a trusionsion of beauty and grace. Soft, musical voices blended harmoniously creating a soft hum. Sometimes, an enchanting sound of laughter would dominate the joyous hubbub. Robes of silk and velvet mingled in a burst of color...gold, mauve, green, blue and yellow were attuned, as a spontaneous homage to the rebirth of nature. Bright and delicate jewels sparked in the intimate light emanating from the candles of the chandeliers.

The animated scene was taking place under Lord Elrond’s benevolent gaze. Sitting at the place of honor at the head table in his most dignified manner, he was able to see the entire room. Taking a sip of his golden wine, he let his gaze wander aimlessly across the colorful crowd of smiling elves in the vast room. A jumble of unrestrained voices was echoing in the large hall across the high-sculpted ceiling, causing a constant buzz in one’s ears. It was a welcome noise, full of joy and life carrying happiness and delight.

The Lore Master liked these moments, when the whole vale came alive and seemed to possess a will of its own. He liked when people were cheerfully smiling, sharing songs and poems, walking and talking together in harmony. These occurrences were too rare and made events such as this more precious. Smiling to himself, he leaned back in his high wooden chair, his hand absentmindedly smoothing the folds of his blue velvet robe. Turning his attention toward his own table, he closely studied the features of those who had, according to the overactive and restless Erestor, the privilege and the honour to dine at his table. His sons, the young Thranduilion, some of his advisors, including Glorfindel and Erestor, and also some powerful yet perfectly boring elves from the area were in attendance. His heart tightened in his chest when his gaze fell on Arwen’s usual place that was empty tonight. She had preferred to stay in Lorien this year and he had asked Erestor not to give her place to anyone. Sighing, he decided to ignore the conversation between the notables that seemed by luck to have momentarily forgotten him, and directed his attention to the young Prince of Mirkwood who was sharing an animated discussion with his blond seneschal.

Elrond had to admit he felt oddly pleased when the room grew quiet as the herald announced the arrival of the Prince. A curious silence had come over the room, and he had to admit that the Prince had managed to avoid looking embarrassed at being the center of attention. He had gone forward, oblivious to the world around him as he respectfully bowed. Elrond noted how his flaxen hair framed his beautiful face. Feeling himself charmed by such beauty, the dark-haired Lord looked into those magnificent eyes veiled with long dark lashes. He found himself wondering how the young one was able to possess such guarded eyes. There was not a hint of disrespect or contempt in the sapphire orbs, yet he could sense the archer's utter reserve held in check.

Watching the fair Prince, Elrond quickly made a mental note to remember to congratulate Glorfindel on his choice of clothing for the Prince.. If Thranduil’s son had managed to look handsome at his arrival in Imladris, he was now simply gorgeous. The green velvet of his robe fit perfectly, enhancing his broad-shoulders and slender waist. He was wearing a pair of dark-blue leggings the same color of his eyes, and no adornment. The simplicity was befitting of him.
The young Thranduilion seemed to be more eager to speak with Glorfindel than him, and Elrond wondered if this was the effect of the wine. Hearing a part of their conversation, he smiled. They were discussing the bright city of Gondolin, and he had to admit he was surprised to note such interest in history from the wood elf. If memory served, Thranduil was not himself fond of history, preferring, as he would say, living the present rather than rebuilding the past.

His gaze drifted to his sons that were sitting on the other side of the table, not so far away from the two chatting blond elves. He frowned deeply when he noticed his youngest son’s behaviour. Perhaps he should ask Legolas to teach Elrohir about proper behaviour. He could see clearly that his son was not in a good mood tonight and did not even try to hide it, which was really unusual considering his normally cheerful character. His fatherly instinct told him that their earlier argument was not the cause of this unbecoming behaviour. Focusing on his son’s taciturn features, his sharp eye caught that his youngest was more than often glancing in the direction of their unexpected guest. Something in the grey eyes of Elrohir made him frown and his puzzlement increased as he realized that the blond elf speaking with Glorfindel was definitely avoiding the twins. It was obvious something had transpired between the two, but he could not determine what.

He had no time to ponder those thoughts further, as the elf to his right chose this very moment to drag him into the general conversation and he had no other alternative but to follow him

*

Legolas felt the last tinge of remorse in his heart die with the growing heat of his body. Everything was so si whe when one did not give a thought to his problems. At the beginning of the feast, he had been very uncomfortable. He could not help feeling guilty about being there, drinking and enjoying himself. He could not stop thinking about his comrades that were waiting for him to return with an answer to their hope. They hoped for a day when Mirkwood would find its former glory and pride. They hoped for a day when they could hold such a celebration without weeping for their dead.

But the wine had chased such thoughts. Legolas was not used to drink much. As a warrior, he had to keep a clear mind. But what would he risk here? There was no threat, no orcs nor spiders constantly watching your every move. He could enjoy the feast and forget his worries for the time being.

But something else was plaguing his mind. He knew that if he turned his head, his would see those tortuous grey eyes. He had felt them since the beginning of the feast. He had been introduced to the owner of that piercing gaze. Elrohir. Elrohir Peredhel, Lord Elrond’s youngest son. Something in his heart had warned him of the danger of crossing that gaze another time and he had been very cautious to avoid it. He could not afford to lose control once more. Too dangerous. Too unpredictable. Everything was about control. But that was not enough. The gaze fixed upon him was driving him mad, awakening a burning fire in his loins and making him shiver. A slow chill ran the length of his spine and he closed his eyes briefly, trying to concentrate on whatever Lord Glorfindel was saying to him.

He was enjoying this more than he should, he thought bitterly. But who minded? Not everyone had the opportunity to speak with such a warrior and hero. Legolas had to admit that he liked the golden Elda very much. This was not something he would tell his father, of course, but he was enjoying their conversation. He took another sip of his drink, feeling the warmth invade his stomach. In spite of all his efforts to ignore it, he felt eyes upon the nape of his neck, reminding him that he as being watched.

He emptied his crystal glass before smiling brightly at the Balrog slayer, pushing aside the image of the gray eyes looking at him with such intensity, and tried to replace them with the vision of the blond seneschal's shining blue eyes.

*


"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul."

Judy Garland


*

The youger twin could not tear his gaze away from their guest. He was attracted to the flaxen-haired prince just as moths were drawn to light. He could not help himself. He was stunned by this uncommon beauty and by the shivering gleam in those huge blue eyes. Never had he seen such pale skin, such pure features, such shining hair, such a piercing gaze. He longed to touch this fair being, to see him lose his perfect composure while being taken in the most intimate way. He wanted to shatter the unreadable mask the Prince was wearing. To force him to look at him with those magnificent eyes of his. At thisy moy moment, nothing was more important to him than these perfect and full pink lips moving in sensual harmony, speaking words that sounded like delightful music.

Lust threatened to overwhelm him and he did not give a darn about trying to make idle conversation with those around him. After all, he would not have been able to have a proper conversation with anyone at the moment. Luckilhe mhe maiden sitting on his left was engaged in conversation with the person next to her, and the elf sitting on his right was his own brother. Elladan had not failed to notice Elrohir's dreamy expression since the feast began nor his thinly veiled interest in the Prince of Mirkwood. There was indeed little that each brother did not notice about the other. Deciding to have a little fun at his brother's expense, Elladan leaned toward Elrohir and delicately purred matter of factly.

“Something tells me that you are not insensitive to the charms of the feast”.

With an endearing chuckle barely heard over the sounds of the feast, he continued.

"It is true the feast is a success. Fine food, delicious wine, genteel music.. and most of all, such fine guests!"

Elrohir unsuccessfully tried to contain the violent chill running the length of his spine when his brother emphasized the last word and directed his gaze toward the object of their attention. In a mocking tone, Elladan continued to bait his brother.

“But it seems that the fair princeling has already found a playmate for tonight’s”

Elrohir suppressed the need to wipe the stupid grin from his brother's face. Instead, he lifted his glass to his lips and took a lagulpgulp of the amber liquid. He had already noticed the furtive exchange between the blonde Elda and the fair Princeling, and did not find it to his liking. He saw the lust in their eyes as time went on, and for the first time in his long life felt the stab of jealousy in his heart. He tried to chase this uncomfortable feeling away but failed. He was very aware that his reaction was truly childish but he couldn’t help feeling as if someone was playing with a toy that he wanted for his very own.

He was barely aware of his father rising and bidding the guests follow him into the ballroom. He stopped daydreaming when he saw the lithe body he had admired so much merging into the crowd of the other elves. He did not move, but instead sat in his chair watching the large wooden doors, absently toying with a piece of bread he rolled between his nervous fingers. He had never felt such lust for anyone before. It was as if he was consumed by it. Licking his dry lips, he lifted his cup one last time and emptied it in one swallow. Then, turning his head, he raised his gaze and crossed his brother’s gray eyes. For two, maybe three seconds, they kept staring silently at each other. No words were spoken because none were needed to understand the other. Then, turning his head, he made eye contact with Elladan. For a brief moment, they stared silently at each other. No words were needed to understand each other.

Elladan made the first move, breaking the perfect alchemy of the moment. Finding a bottle of wine on the table, he filled his cup and drank it down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A ghost of a smile lit his fair features. There was no playful expression on his face any longer. This was the smile of a predator, self-confident and skilled. Offering his hand to his brother, he encouraged him to stand. They were barely a few inches apart, noses almost touching, their breath mingling. Elladan smiled sincerely this time, his expression echoed in his brother's face.

They were symmetry. Harmony. Beauty.

Perfection.

The elder twin broke the silence.

“Brother, there are plenty of maidens waiting for us. We should not disappoint them”.


TBC...