Rating: PG-13 - NC-17
Characters: Elrond, Glorfindel, Círdan, Celebrían, Gandalf and others.
Disclaimer: The characters and world are the creation of Tolkien and belong to him. New Line Cinema also has rights to them, which I cannot claim. No copyright infringement or offence intended by the use of them. No profit made.
Summary: In the land of Valinor, Elrond has an unexpected encounter.
Notes: 1) This is set after Return of the King, when Elrond and others of Middle-earth have departed for the West and the Undying Lands. 2) The title of the final chapter, "King's Games," is a euphemism borrowed from the 15th and 16th centuries for a king or queen publicly pretending that s/he did not want to do something, and then appearing to be won around. It was always a set-up, the eventual outcome being pre-arranged. The aim could be to recover face, or to win public support. It was usually recognised for being staged, but the public was not in a position to say so. For example Elizabeth the first publicly wept and punished some "over-zealous" servants who had sent Mary Queen of Scots to the gallows with a warrant signed by Elizabeth, which she claimed she had not intended to carry out. The likelihood is that she did intend the other woman's death, but did not want it to seem so to her people. The title does have a double meaning, however!
Thanks to Nienna for betaing.
"What did you do to her?"
Shaking off Elrond's restraining hand, Ereinion stalked to Finarfin's desk and stood before the king of the Noldor. Dark blue eyes blazed hot flame into the startled but steady gaze of his kinsman. The silence built around them.
"I said," Ereinion repeated, his teeth gritted. "What did you do to her...your majesty."
Finarfin smiled thinly at the grudging term of respect. "I heard you the first time. And now I shall answer you, or rather, pose a question of my own. If I may ask - of whom do you speak?"
"Ardis."
"Ah. Yes. I did nothing."
Elrond, standing quietly at the door, resisted the impulse to arch a sceptical eyebrow. Ereinion offered no such restraint. He straightened imperiously and his eyes narrowed.
"If that is so, my lord Finarfin, then perhaps you could explain how she came to be imprisoned in the west wing, by all accounts of doubtable sanity."
Finarfin's lips tightened at the youngster's tone.
"I think that you will find, my young kinsman, that I have no need to explain myself to you at all."
Elrond felt the rush of his own anger at the elder elf's condescension. Impotence locked Ereinion's stance and Elrond took a step forward, intending to intervene where uninterrupted age and rank would hold sway. But Ereinion's next words stilled him in his tracks.
"Perhaps not," Ereinion conceded, his voice light. "My apologies, your majesty, for the presumption upon my part. However," his teeth bared in a smile, "You will understand if I inform Ardis' legal guardians, who entrusted her into your care, of the situation. I expect the matter will be resolved. The current head of the Lower Council," he indicated with a jerk of his head for Elrond to join him, "Acting upon my behalf, will otherwise be obliged to investigate the ways in which Tirion has failed in its duty to the House of Valinor."
Finarfin's features were crossed with alarm: sufficient recompense for his previous condescension. "I do not think that will be necessary," he replied quickly. "I assure you that naught amiss will be found. The situation with Ardis is most unfortunate and quite unexpected." He gestured to the seats before his desk and Ereinion took one, Elrond taking the other. "When Ardis came to us we attempted to accommodate her into court society, where we were assured that she had resided most of her previous life. She was of your company, I believe."
Ereinion nodded curtly and, for a moment, Finarfin stared at him, unsettled by the self-raised reference to Ereinion's age and former status. Watching him with increasing wariness, Elrond awaited the continuation of the tale. "She proved, however, most reluctant to undertake the tasks most of our womenfolk delight in and became instead involved with training the younger elves in weaponry skills.
"Some months ago, there was an incident with one of the other trainers - incidentally he is still in the healing wing - and she was barely prevented from slaying him. It is the most grievous offence to commit kin-slaughter." Finarfin's eyes greyed with old regrets and ancient anger. He sighed. "Obviously we were obliged to take action. Given her youth, she was chided with tales of the kin-slayings in Alqualonde and, as we had researched her history, we endeavoured to explain to her that once she had been a bladesmaster and so her actions were something she would have to carefully temper."
Elrond caught his breath sharply. She had been told everything, in circumstances that could trigger the memories by the repetition of ancient acts, ancient scenes, submerged by temporary innocence and brought to recall by bloodied hands and guilt. It was small wonder she was in the state she was. Elrond chanced a look at Ereinion, but his countenance was as impassive as stone. He nodded sharply and Finarfin continued.
"She said that she recalled being a bladesmaster, but appeared so indifferent we detailed a number of her exploits and took her to her recent victim to apologise." Finarfin sighed heavily and shook his head. "Therein the room she looked upon him, spoke not a word, and backed away. She began rubbing her hands together, scrubbing them at the sink until she bled them with her efforts. At this sight she seemed to calm and the following day she returned to her duties. Yet no longer could she hold a sword and fight. She would shake, let fall her blade, and stumble from the field, forever washing her hands. In riddles she spoke, of the days of darkness, and it so much distressed those of Tirion who heard her discourse that we enclosed her in the western wing. She is well tended, fed and watered by our maids. Carnil, my personal servant, sits with her for a few hours each day. We hope in time that she will learn to accommodate her memories and we may then reintegrate her."
"She will not." Cold was the voice that broke through the silence: flat and final. Ereinion rose in towering sweep and his features were grim as he glared down at Finarfin. "She will wander lost through the turnings of time that are neither past nor present but all one." Gone was all that remained of the child Ereinion and in his place stood the great high king of ancient times. His clipped tones of fury rose with his anger. "You have no comprehension, King Finarfin, of what it is like to experience such memories as you so casually dismiss! Get her out of that wing and to a healer. Find her a task and show her in which time she lives. And do it now, or I will take this to the high king within the hour!"
He strode from the chamber and the door slammed closed behind him. With a nod of barest civility to the speechless Finarfin, Elrond hastened after Ereinion.
He stood waiting, every line and limb tight with ill-contained fury. In the corridors Elrond dared not to embrace him, though he could feel the churning tidal wave of emotion he wished to soothe. He placed a hand upon Ereinion's shoulder, feeling the brush of fingers against his thigh as Ereinion clenched his fists. He reached for Elrond's shoulder to steady himself, his fingers painfully gripping. His jaw flexed as he bit back the words of condemnation he wanted to snarl: the futile degradations of the ignorant. He shook his head hard, glowering at Elrond for want of an alternative victim. His grip loosened suddenly and his eyes darkened with emotion as a shaken laugh suddenly escaped him.
"Air and Fire," he said softly. "I think I am glad that you always let me *remember* my life."
Elrond felt the tight knot of tension he had carried since the night of the fire suddenly unclench and relief suffused his being.
"Come," he said gently, squeezing Ereinion's shoulder. "Let us go and see that your will is done."
"It will be," Ereinion said grimly.
Ereinion's promise was not an empty one and Finarfin held to his word. By the time that the hour came for the departure of the Welcome House elves from Tirion, Ardis' confinement was curtailed. Ereinion insisted on paying her a personal visit before he left, though what passed between the two, Elrond knew not. Ereinion returned to Elrond's chambers, grim-faced, in the late hours of the evening, while the maids were packing up the wardrobes in preparation for the morning's departure. Ereinion dismissed them and began throwing things into packs himself.
"I should have written to her," he said furiously, stuffing a tunic into a bag.
"I thought that you did." Elrond's voice was a quiet contrast to Ereinion's in the silence of the night. He spoke carefully, for it did not take two to make an argument when Ereinion was angry with himself.
"For a few months, perhaps a year, frequently," Ereinion said, his voice coloured with self-disgust. "And she to me. It tailed off completely about four months ago, when I started to remember…what happened to me. I forgot to answer one of her letters and did not write again."
He threw a box of silver braid adorners into the bag and the lid came off, scattering the contents into the depths. He ignored it, glaring at Elrond as though the entire episode was his fault. Elrond rose from the bed, laying aside his book, and moved to Ereinion's side, beginning to extract the hair fasteners from the robes folded into the pack.
"You are not to blame," he said gently, touching Ereinion's arm.
Ereinion snorted and walked to the window.
"Maybe not, but I did not help, did I?"
Rhetorical was the question and Elrond did not answer. He put the lid on the box again, stowing it more carefully, and crossed to Ereinion. He slid an arm around his lover's waist from behind, and swept back the curtain of night-hued hair to drop a kiss upon the hard, set curve of Ereinion's neck. Ereinion turned into the embrace. Strong hands cupped Elrond's face and lips met his in a bruising, forceful kiss. Elrond's fingers curled into the folds of Ereinion's robes, surrendering to the turmoil of need inside his lover, their searing kiss a channel for the emotions the need for civility had restrained. And it was not enough. Hands searched his body for comfort, and words were stolen in rough kisses. Breathless, Elrond capitulated and questing hands breached formal layers; the prolonged stay in Tirion had forced celibacy upon them and though it was not yet over, Ereinion's need was almost overpowering. Elrond struggled to break the kiss before the tide drew him under, shaking his head before he could find the breath to speak. A low growl erupted from Ereinion's throat and he yanked Elrond closer, powerful hands making sweeping strokes down the peredhel's arms and back, another urgent kiss claiming his lips.
The soft tap upon the door went unnoticed, but the louder click of its opening whirled them apart before it had cleared the frame. A maid, scarcely older than Ereinion and clearly new to her job, entered. Ereinion stalked across the room before she had taken two steps inside. She looked up, obviously startled to be so confronted.
"If you please, milords..." she began nervously.
"Clearly you are new here," Ereinion said in a low, level voice and at her quick, apprehensive nod, continued coldly. "If you wish to remain in Finarfin's service I suggest that you do not enter a private chamber without permission. Now get out and do your job properly."
Blushing furiously the maiden retreated and Elrond quickly smoothed the front of his robes.
"Mind your tongue, Ereinion," he cautioned softly, aware that Ereinion's temper was hanging by a thread. "Do not make any more of this than it is. We were lucky, I think."
"Elrond, no-one should enter a chamber like that!" Ereinion said furiously. A knock came upon the chamber door as he finished bitterly, "Whether or not the occupants have anything to hide. Come in," he added curtly.
The young serving girl entered once more, her head bowed and her face aflame.
"If you please, milords, the king requests that you join him in the grounds."
Ereinion glanced at Elrond, his chest shifting with the motion of a repressed sigh.
"Thank you," he said after a moment. "You may tell the king we will be along directly."
Conversation with Finarfin proved productive, for the king's guilt at his failure to handle the situation with his ward, and the subsequent reactions to it that had gained his respect for Ereinion, were useful emotions to secure the king's assistance in determining an area of land that could be successfully transformed into a realm. Much of the land in Valinor was under no person's command, though it was well known by all. Finarfin was able to make several recommendations, which trade routes would be able to easily accommodate, and Ereinion appeared fairly inclined to settle near to the realms of his kin, despite his views upon the behaviour of his family.
They left Tirion the following morning, their party consisting of Cirdan, Ereinion, Elrond and the handful of attendants that had accompanied them. Ardis had elected to remain in Tirion, despite Cirdan's concern, and it seemed that Carnil had been able to find a place for her with a weapon-crafter in the city. Their journey detailed the course of nearly seven weeks, stopping to camp during the dark hours or accepting the hospitality of those realms they passed through on their way. Yet when they arrived at the House of Valinor once more, Elrond wished that they had made more speed. Celebrian ran to greet them and, with unusual emotion, flung her arms around Elrond as he dismounted his horse.
"Elrond, oh! Elrond, husband, they are coming!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks as she smiled up at him.
"Who? Who is coming?" Elrond gently held her away from him, aware of Ereinion's sudden tension and the slightly resentful look cast his way.
"Our sons!"
Elrond clutched at her, an indescribable emotion welling within him at the words.
"Celebrian, truly?" he said hoarsely, hoping and yet not daring to hope that she could speak true.
She nodded. "My mother sent us word the moment she discovered it. They will sail with my father when he comes to us."
Elrond gripped her tightly into an embrace, burying his face into the soft waves of her hair as she wept delighted tears into his travelling robes. Tears came not to him, for neither grief nor happiness frequently moved him so, yet he could not release her for many moments, murmuring praises to the Valar that he could scarcely word. The twins were to come to Valinor, their minds changed, it seemed, by the passing of time. Or the passing of Estel into age and the weight of mortality hanging like a chained ball around their necks to drag them into the earth and the realm of the dead men, from which none could return. Elrond closed his eyes and prayed once more, for his daughter.
Finally he drew back, and Celebrian caught up Cirdan's hands as he congratulated her as though she had borne new life to her sons. Chaste was their greeting, but the emotion that danced in their eyes as Cirdan's pleasure for his partner spilled from him in unusually eloquent praises. Elrond felt Ereinion's hand on his shoulder, the grip almost to the point of painful. He covered Ereinion's hand with his own, turning slightly wary eyes to his lover.
Ereinion smiled briefly. "I am pleased for you."
Elrond's euphoria ebbed and dipped slightly at the forced words and, as Celebrian turned back to him, felt Ereinion's arm fall possessively across his shoulders. Celebrian's eyes flickered with unease, as she looked into the cool features of the child she had raised and saw him there no longer. Elrond gently extracted himself from Ereinion's grip on the pretext of unburdening his mount. Gil-galad cast him another tight smile and then excused himself.
Elrond watched him leave, half-making to call out to him, but experience told and he let Ereinion go. He himself remained with Celebrian and Cirdan, for he was eager to hear how the news had come. A letter it seemed, sent forth with winged messenger by Galadriel, who had been communicating with Celeborn via a pool she had bewitched for the purpose, brought the news nearly a week earlier. Elrond felt the surge of jubilation that the twins would come arise in him once more as Celebrian clutched his arm, her words melodic to his ears. His sons believed that they could finally find peace here, and to witness Celebrian's elation Elrond felt hope that she might find new peace and healing in their coming.
Cirdan greeted his lady with the kiss that the public house grounds had not permitted once they entered the privacy of the sitting rooms. There he left her, however, and returned to the corridors to seek his seneschal, signalling to Elrond that he would also look out for Ereinion.
Elrond shed his cloak and moved to fill two glasses of miruvor, taking a seat beside Celebrian and offering her a handkerchief to dry her tears. She accepted it and her glass gratefully.
"I can scare believe it," she murmured, dabbing at her eyes. "Your words, Elrond, gave me so little cause for hope and I saw in your eyes how much you doubted each suggestion that our twins might come."
"I feared that they would not find the sanctuary that we have sought here," Elrond quietly owned. "They fought for so long in your name, to avenge the hurts that befell you and in the name of our war against the shadow that they took no solace even in their own home."
"They fought for me?" Celebrian was startled. "You did not tell me that!"
"Did you not suspect?" Elrond said softly. "They will be glad beyond imagining to find you well."
"I am not well," Celebrian said, almost inaudibly. "Elrond, I know it as well as you. I am not as I once was and I cannot be. I hope, oh I hope so much that I can be what they need."
"They need only to see you whole and happy. Celebrian, I do not think that this will be easy," Elrond admitted, taking her hand. "There is much that has changed, and I think that the changes between us will cause them distress. But your well-being and contentment, and that you are pleased to see them, will do much to amend any grief they may feel."
"There is so much that cannot be undone," Celebrian said, her expression turning concerned and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. "You and I can never have…what we once had. How much do our children know of that?"
"They are aware, Celebrian, of the true feeling between us, a love born with their conceptions and the gentle friendship of the ages." Elrond did not add that the twins had for several centuries fiercely denied that it was not true love between their parents and much resented the truth above the childish fantasy.
"They know," Celebrian said and eyed him shrewdly, "But how do they feel about it? Nay, speak it not, I can guess our sons liked it little." She sighed, stroking his fingers absently.
Elrond raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "I am sorry," he said quietly, "That I could not give you all that you deserved."
She smiled and shook her head. "You gave me children, Elrond, and you loved them and brought them to me here, when I fled their lives." She bit her lip pensively. "Oh, I fear how much they may resent me for deserting them so…"
"They love you," Elrond whispered fiercely. "They have never stopped loving you."
"Unlike you," Celebrian said, a mischievous smile curling her lips.
"Who first breached our contract?" Elrond retorted playfully. "I believe it was you, my lady."
"A fine chance I should have stood with the king of your life returned," Celebrian replied, still smiling. She squeezed his fingers. "I am glad these circumstances have so conspired that you were not forced to choose between your family and your beloved. I could not have seen you in such sorrow, my lord."
Elrond winced at the suggestion. "For that I am grateful," he whispered. "I love you, Celebrian." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"And I love you," she honestly returned, kissing his in turn and then releasing his hand. "My lord, I would ask of you one thing; think you that we should ask for the edict from Manwe to break our marriage pledge?"
Elrond frowned and sat back in his chair with a sigh. "To what end?" he asked finally. "If you wish to bind to Cirdan…" But she was shaking her head. "I cannot to Ereinion; it is our eternal curse."
"Perhaps you should, Elrond," Celebrian said seriously. "That which passes between you is that which the sacred bonds of marriage are for. In a few years Ereinion will come of age and Cirdan tells me he means to build a realm. If you do not bind to him then a political marriage may be asked for."
"Ereinion will not - cannot - take it," Elrond answered. "This situation, you cannot forget, has been our lot before. It was always my duty to do that which he could not, and marriage was that sole duty he could not perform. But we cannot bind. We could not then for one of us needed to make an alliance and now the politics of the situation and that I have been married to you will make any binding we could hope to make very difficult. I think that all the breaking of our marriage would serve is to injure the hearts of our sons."
"Then let us not," Celebrian agreed. "I am sorry for you, Elrond, that history must repeat itself. I in turn will not bind to Cirdan for I am wedded to you and, were that broken, I fear the grief it would cause my father to believe that he had caged me for the years I willingly served as your wife."
"Then let the titles and the loyalty between us be set aside, but the tie itself stand for the sake of others," Elrond concluded. "And let us make what we can of the freedom we have within that."
Guiding Stars.
Ereinion sat on the edge of the cliff, staring out over the ocean, and allowed himself to be hypnotised by the rolling of the waves. They fell over and over each other, white-crested, to smash against the unyielding cliffs and lick away at the sands, slowly eroding it, wreaking changes imperceptible until the passing of time. The soft whispering of the dry grasses that dusted the cliff top betrayed the approaching feet and Cirdan down sat beside him. The shipwright did not speak and the silence stretched out, waiting to be filled. Ereinion clenched his jaw, his thoughts too morose to share. No matter how much he loved Elrond, no matter how much time they shared, they could never be together in the way that soul-bounds were intended. Though matches between those of the same gender were acknowledged, between those of rank they were often concealed for the politics of the matter. There were exceptions, among them Glorfindel and Ecthelion, whose relationship stretched to the years before they had held domains and so before it had been necessary for either to remain open to a political marriage.
"Nothing has changed!" he said suddenly, angrily. "I despair that it ever will. I love him, Cirdan. Elbereth help me, I love him! For all the good it has ever done either of us. I cannot - damn it - I will not give him up."
"You will not have to," the shipwright said reassuringly, and despite his will not to show it, Ereinion turned to him with visible desperation. "The twins are Celebrian's sons," Cirdan continued, offering a comforting smile. "They will probably hate you fiercely for what they will see as a betrayal of their mother on Elrond's part. I suspect they will be ill disposed toward me too. They are every inch their mother's children and quite obsessively protective of her, but they rather take Elrond for granted, to my mind. Expect hostility from them, but forebear. Elrond will not turn from you and nor will Celebrian wish him to. The twins will come around."
"They will not be the first to disapprove, nor the last," Ereinion bleakly surmised. "Erestor eyes me with the same dislike he ever did when he sees Elrond and I together, and Celeborn, I think, will not greet me kindly."
"Do not be too hard upon Celeborn," Cirdan gently said, seeing the dark expression Ereinion could feel settle upon his features at the thought of Celeborn. "He was a good friend to you and kept your secret well. Do not think ill of him for carrying out the needed duty in asking for Elrond's proposal to his daughter. You had spoken to him of the potential need for it yourself."
"Forget that I cannot," Ereinion said resentfully. "In the one respect I did take after my father I could not make right in my duty as king by marrying. Fingon must have found it convenient that my mother died, though I cannot wish that fate upon Celebrian."
"I should hope not!" Cirdan said sharply. "Maedhros was a jealous partner, Ereinion. Do not give Elrond the same grief that Maedhros gave your father."
"I will not," Ereinion sighed. "But talking about permitting a marriage that is not your own when it concerns your partner is quite different from seeing it carried out, particularly when I was not... I mean I could not…"
"Be there," Cirdan finished, giving Ereinion's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Perhaps that is something you should be not ungrateful for. It is said that the hardest thing is to watch someone that you love be with someone else; you and Elrond both were spared that pain. It is Celebrian who has suffered. She offered up her one chance for true love on the same alter of duty that kept Elrond from sharing your grave. Elrond was good and kind to her, but her life was not easy and might have run a different course, one that did not end with taking the only solace she can find in an old mariner who does not truly understand her, no matter how much he loves her…"
"You love her?" Ereinion interrupted, glancing at his foster-father curiously. To his knowledge Cirdan had never claimed to love another, his passion for the ocean taking the place a partner would in his heart.
Cirdan inclined his head and smiled. "Love is not always that intense, soul-binding, and somewhat reckless passion that connects you and Elrond. She is not so emotional as she once was, and I myself do not think I am capable of loving in a way that chains me so completely to another person. But I do love her, Ereinion, yet the one person who should have been able to give that love unreservedly and from the bottom of his heart could not. That love was and ever will be for you alone."
"And yet she could give him what I could not," Ereinion said quietly. "Elrond always wanted children."
"It is an ill thing for a woman to be reduced to her womb, Ereinion," Cirdan reprimanded him sternly. "But if she can find sanctuary in the offspring she produced and if the coming of their sons eases the passing of their daughter, deny that not for Elrond or Celebrian. You will always hold his heart, Ereinion; hold his hand too when he needs your support. Do not let your doubts create the need for doubt."
Suitably chastened, Ereinion looked away from the stern countenance of his foster father and picked at a blade of grass.
"It is a hard path that you walk, Ereinion," Cirdan said gently. "Yet you walk it well and I know you find it worthwhile."
Ereinion nodded, sighing. Once, long ago, he and Elrond had sworn that they would take their pleasure in what they could share, and not despair over what they could not change. Shaking off his private storm, Ereinion rose to search out Elrond and apologise.
Elrond was walking the galleries of the Welcome House when Ereinion located him. The lengthy halls meandered around the lower floor, pictures set high upon the walls of all the notable figures from history. Elrond's eyes were fixed upon these, his gait slow as he looked upon the painted portraits of his kin. Ereinion walked past the portrait of himself that Cirdan had recently allowed to be displayed there, less unnerved by the picture than he had once been reading his own name in print, speaking of times he did not recall. Elrond came to a halt before the vast picture of his parents. Elwing, with the Silmaril upon her breast, nestled beneath Earendil's arm. Their features were filled with affection and no signs of the tensions their lives had brought to them by that very jewel in Elwing's keeping. Elrond did not immediately react to Ereinion's presence, but he half-glanced at him as Ereinion laid a hand upon his shoulder and yielded to the offered embrace. For a few moments they stood in silence, Ereinion marvelling at the skill of the artist that could capture both the humanity and that legend that these two brave people embodied, and rued that he had not had the chance to acquaint himself with them: the parents of the only man he had ever loved.
"Do not make me deny my children their family as I was mine." Elrond's voice broke the silence and he bowed his head as Ereinion's arms wrapped around him.
Ereinion was honestly startled and tightened his embrace.
"Never," he promised, whispering the words into Elrond's ear. Elrond's hands covered his own, tightly gripping. A heartbeat of silence passed between them before Ereinion said quietly, "Elrond, do you mean that if I asked, you would?"
There was a very long silence.
"Sorry," Ereinion said, breaking it, "That was not a fair…"
Elrond turned to face him: gently, urgently, pressing his fingertips over his lover's lips. "Shh, it is fair enough. I have been walking these halls among my ancestors trying to answer that question for myself," Elrond whispered. His pained gaze fell away from Ereinion's and he said, still softly, "Please do not ask me, Ereinion."
Ereinion drew him close, his question silenced with the answer he could read in Elrond's eyes as the peredhel held him tightly. Ereinion kissed the dark hair that now hid his lover's features. Elrond lifted his head, his features taut with the strain of his realisation, and closed his lips over Ereinion's to silence the topic forever.
New understanding fed the kiss and deep ran the emotion between them as Elrond's hands lightly framed the perimeter of Ereinion's features. His lips were softly insistent, expressing that which he could not voice in lingering kisses that warmed their spirits and brighter burned the bond between them. Ereinion gripped the folds of Elrond's robes, the need to consummate and affirm the possession of this incredible, brave, and loving man reaching heights Ereinion had half-forgotten. His hands slid to the front of Elrond's robes, the fastenings loosening beneath his fingers. The quiet of the gallery was all enveloping, as though time could be frozen within it and held forever. Yet the corridors were finite with doors at either end; it would be so easy to be discovered. Ereinion did not release the catches of Elrond's robes, but there his fingers hovered. The very fear of discovery served to fuel his desire to swear to the Halls with tradition, laws, titles and bonds that stood between them, though he knew the consequences that would bring and the destruction of their reputations was the penalty they could ill afford. He could feel the same need in Elrond's touches, how completely and utterly Elrond had relented; it was entirely in Ereinion's hands where the moment led them, even as Elrond broke their kiss, his hands upon the clasps that held Ereinion's cloak in place. Watching the rapid rise and fall of his lover's chest as Elrond's smoky eyes met his, Ereinion slowly stepped back, taking Elrond's hands in his own and thus removing the risk if not the temptation.
Elrond closed his eyes, the expression on his features close to shame, save for the smile that lifted his look into one of willingness to defy all that separated them and yet soft relief that Ereinion had not asked it of him. He kissed Ereinion once more, a lingering yet light touch of lips mingling gratitude and regret that this was all they would yet share.
"Come," Ereinion whispered, his voice slightly husky with the effort of restraining himself. Taking Elrond by the hand once more he led the way toward the practice ring where swords and sparring could take the place of the physical consummation they both desired. Picking up his blade and stripping off his upper garments in preparation for their fight, Ereinion silently cursed his continued minority.
* * * *
The weeks stretched into months and Galadriel returned to the Welcome House. She and Oropher had completed the first phase of negotiations with the Sindarin elves of Tol Eressea and Elrond was to meet with a handful of their leaders to discuss integration into the main council. The primary concern that had been raised was the issue of the elves who were still in Middle-earth. The Sindar were particularly concerned for many numbered among their kin: elves not of the Eldar days, those who had never known Valinor. Galadriel had gathered the Lower Council to her, for this was their jurisdiction, being the elves most recently come from Middle-earth into these lands.
"I can speculate as to where the Upper Council stands upon this for it is my view also," Galadriel explained in her low, grave voice. "All elves know this land Valinor to be a sanctuary, a refuge for us all, the refugees of Middle-earth, a land which is banishing us to the ether as it falls into the hands of men. It is the land of the Followers, the Second-born. It is not our land. We were called from Middle-earth into Valinor in the early days; the Valar summoned our kinsmen here. I was among those who followed Feanor back to Middle-earth, to reclaim that land. The Valar did not hold us in Valinor for we were never their prisoners. But the price we paid for achieving that supposed freedom from an imagined cage should have taught our people long ago that there was a reason for the elves being here. By degrees those who left and their descendants have returned to these shores, driven or fled here. My daughter came hither when no man born could heal her heart and soul; I too heard the song of the ocean and sailed when nothing more that I could do would aid the peoples of Middle-earth. This land is our haven and we are offered it freely…"
"Freely?" Oropher began, sharply.
"Silence," Ereinion held up a hand. "My apologies for the interruption, both of you, but let us have this clear: each of us has leave to speak their piece before anyone offers their opinions. Galadriel, continue."
With a nod and a smile for her kinsman, Galadriel did so. "This land is freely offered to us as a haven. It must be the choice of the individual to come hither or remain and fade. In earlier years I condoned Cirdan's visits to Middle-earth, offering a ship and transport through the Straight Road, but time is passing – and quickly beyond the mists. If we believe we have seen nearly thirty years here, it is easily three times that beyond Valinor's realm. The mists will close; the time now is soon."
She paused for a moment, allowing that news to sink in. Elrond felt his stomach sink at the realisation. Estel. Arwen. Arwen. He felt Ereinion's hand fall lightly upon his knee, smoothing up and down his thigh soothingly. Reaching out a hand he caught the comforting fingers and gripped them tightly, Ereinion's thumb stroking the back of his hand instead. Galadriel's eyes met and held his for a beat, the closest emotion to sympathy Elrond had ever seen flickering in the great woman's eyes.
"It is time that these visits stopped, Cirdan, shipwright. It is time that it was made clear that the choice must be made."
"How much time is there left?" Ereinion asked the moment Galadriel had finished.
"Another century, two at most. The mists may not close completely for another five hundred or so, but the condition of those beyond the mists will dwindle until they are past what can be repaired. Middle-earth will take its toll upon their bodies with the power of the elves lessening and lessening and the spirits of those left behind will depart their failing houses. Those who remain and die will one day be returned into this land, reborn. One way or another they will come hither. It is time the decision was made."
"I do not agree with you," Cirdan said quietly. "I think that my journeys provide the option the elves need."
"It keeps their options open," Galadriel said flatly. "It is making it too easy."
"So you intend to cut everyone off – those who were your people?" Ereinion asked, levelling a steady gaze at Galadriel.
"I will do what I must," Galadriel answered him evenly.
"You have made your decision; you rule them no longer and their choices are their own," came the calm return.
"Then they must make their choice."
"You are cold-hearted, Lady," Oropher interjected with a shake of his head. "You make that choice sound easy! Perhaps the sea sings its melody for your ears, but it does not to all. All the land my people know is Middle-earth. Why think you that the Sindar dwell in Tol Eressea? We are not part of Valinor; we cannot be and to some that makes it easier to remain in Middle-earth where all that we created stands rather than to start afresh or to be trapped into a culture and land that is not our own."
"Do the Sindar see Valinor as a prison?" Ereinion asked, turning to Oropher with interest in his eyes.
"All travel is one way," Oropher countered. "How can it not be seen so?"
"I can see how that would be," Ereinion answered slowly, his expression turning very thoughtful. "And Middle-earth is freedom, for at least therein lies a choice: to stay or to leave, not only to stay…" He looked up, meeting Elrond's eyes and a half-smile crossed his lips briefly. "Then free will governs one's choices and not the will of the Valar alone."
"Kinsman, you know the price for defying the Valar! Have you forgotten your ancestry, cousin?" Galadriel's eyes blazed with dark light as she turned on Ereinion.
"On the contrary, my lady cousin, I find I come to understand the motives of my kin. Through the prices you have paid for your actions you have come to know the wisdom or folly within them. Your humility and willingness to submit to the judgement of the Valar credits you greatly, but not all can see with your eyes." Ereinion held her dark gaze fearlessly and his countenance darkened. "And you do not share that which you know. You let many things come to pass that you have foreseen and never once does that knowledge, or warning, pass your lips…"
Galadriel's expression softened suddenly and she reached across the table to touch Ereinion's hand. "I will tell only that which will bring of it something good; to tell that which will bring only sorrow that cannot be averted serves no purpose."
Gil-galad drew his hand away and then aborted the gesture half-complete, gripping her fingers briefly instead.
"The points raised are of interest," Elrond said, as Ereinion and Galadriel sat back once more. "The Sindar need not feel themselves excluded from Valinor; it is not so. I will confer with their leaders myself in a few moons and hope to make this clear, but I can see now why it is that they are reluctant to journey through the Straight Road. I had hoped that Thranduil would lead his people here, but it seems that he has chosen to remain."
"If he means to stay for the kingdom, I will kill him," Oropher said in a sudden, hoarse voice. Elrond started, cursing himself silently for forgetting the connection between Oropher and Thranduil, a slip he would never have made around the latter. "He would do that; he would not desert everything that he worked for, everything that I built. And the people will stay with him…"
Gil-galad shook his head in silent disapproval but Elrond cautioned him with a glower. "Your people have faith in Thranduil and he has led them well..."
"...better than I ever did," Oropher finished with a black look at the peredhel. "I will not take insult from you, half-elf."
"Kindly speak with a little more respect," Gil-galad said sharply. "Elrond is your superior here, Oropher, not that he was ever anything less."
"No half-human..."
"Children of the House of Valinor!" Elrond said loudly, "Ereinion, Oropher, may this council continue?"
Clenching his jaw, Ereinion nodded curtly, his dark eyes fixed on the table long enough for him to erase the resentment from them.
"I want to get a message to my son," Oropher said.
"I will bear a missive and call the lord of the eagles to carry it over land when I next sail," Cirdan volunteered.
Galadriel was shaking her head. "Send word, by all means, Oropher. But I do not think that the voyages should continue, Cirdan. The Upper Council has long disputed the need for them and I come to second their opinions."
"This is our jurisdiction, Galadriel, and not theirs. The last opinions voiced from their quarter were not valid for they feared for the safety of this land when the Valar govern the mists and who may pass through them," Elrond replied. "The Valar have not revoked Cirdan's access. It is they who should govern his duty in this, not Upper or Lower Council."
"Conceded," Galadriel said, her eyes flickering with sudden admiration for Elrond. "You speak well, Elrond Peredhel. Is the Council now adjourned?"
"Concluded?" Elrond glanced around for assent and then nodded. "Concluded. Thank you all, my lords and ladies."
The Council parted once more and as it did so, Elrond lightly touched Ereinion's arm and drew him aside.
"Angry with me?" he asked softly, aware that around them the members of the Lower Council were either making ready to depart or lingering over glasses of cordial.
Gil-galad's smile was slightly crooked, slightly tense. "I have no right to be."
"But..." Elrond ventured and smiled as Gil-galad conceded his irritation with a rueful nod.
Yet a gentle expression was on his face as he looked up once more and a smile touched his eyes. "Hush," he said softly. "You are one of the few people who ever dared command me and that I cannot resent; I can only admire. Never underestimate your power over me, Elrond. Never underestimate who and what you are. There is no one, there has never been anyone, like you."
"You mean apart from Elros," Elrond asked lightly, his voice equally low, conscious of the clusters of elves about them.
Gil-galad shook his head, his dark gaze holding Elrond's intently. "I knew Elros, Elrond. He was an amazing individual in his own way, but you, Elrond, you are special."
Touched, Elrond found himself unable to break the compelling gaze, wanting to reach out and...
...Gil-galad looked away at the sound of footsteps and Elrond quickly broke the poignant moment with an awkward laugh, aware of the heightened colour in his cheeks.
"Oh honestly, Ereinion! How many thousands of years have I known you? And you can still make me blush like a maiden!"
Gil-galad chuckled unashamedly. "It suits you," he teased as Oropher and Cirdan passed them by and, with a lingering look, followed in their footsteps.
Alliances.
Without the clear distinctions of the seasons with which the climate of Middle-earth had marked its passage, it seemed to Elrond that time slipped through his fingers with the fluidity of water, for the next few years passed quickly in and out of being. He spent a great deal of time in council with the Sindarin elves: Amdir, Amroth, and Thingol. Gil-galad, Galadriel, and Oropher attended the meetings, which detailed the course of nearly two years. The Sindar were understandably cautious about interacting closely with the elves of elder days.
The dissention between the Noldorin and the Sindarin elves was long-standing and Elrond felt a sense of weariness as each inconclusive meeting adjourned. He was grateful only that the Upper Council was leaving these discussions to the Lower; the only thing that could have made the situation any more unstable, or doomed it to certain failure, he thought in blacker moments, would have been the Teleri and Noldor division to temper as well. Thingol in particular was a source of concern to Elrond, for the man had a temper beyond Elrond's ability to understand. He was quite viciously unwilling to co-operate with Galadriel and his attitude deliberately grated against Ereinion's own temperament, making each discussion fraught with tensions. The only fortune on their side was that Thingol was clearly taken with Oropher and a kinship struck up between them. Oropher held loyal to the Council and several times his gentlemanly manner soothed the savage beast, preventing all hopes of co-operation from falling to pieces. Mercifully Amdir and Amroth were acquainted with Gil-galad and Galadriel and, although cautious, were clearly willing to participate in the discussions.
Cirdan and Glorfindel joined the councils by the ending of Ereinion's forty-sixth year. Cirdan was already acquainted with Thingol, and to Elrond's utmost relief Círdan's sheer surprise at Thingol's temper endeared him to the Sinda king of old. There was some sporadic trade occurring between the Sindarin and Teleri elves, and building on this tentative alliance Elrond was able to convince the Sindarin representatives to attend a full council meeting in a few years time.
Setting up the council proved more of a challenge, for Ingwe's availability was scarce: councils with Manwë and his own people took precedence over the Elven Council. Ereinion too was beginning to spend less time in the Welcome House, travelling to Tirion and into the lands in which he had chosen to build his realm. Elrond accompanied him when and where he could, Cirdan sparing the time where Elrond could not. Had Elrond not already agreed to accompany his lover into his new kingdom, those months apart would have decided him. The burning ache of loneliness he had not felt so strongly in the years since Ereinion's return kept him from sleep at nights and, during his insomnia-induced walks, he took comfort in the sense of completeness that lingered with the knowledge of their relationship, even during Ereinion's absences. Though his long, lonely years in Middle-earth had proved to Elrond he did not need Ereinion to live, to prosper, and to work the best of his will in the world, the returned sense of security and wholeness reinforced his silent wish never, ever to have to cope alone again.
Yet the times together were almost as bad as the separations. Heated were their reunions, bringing them dangerously close to breaking the customs of their kind regarding minors and Elrond's own resolution.
"Perhaps we should not do this," Ereinion said once, abruptly, as they lay side-by-side, hearts racing, the sheets around them damp with sweat.
"Do what?" Elrond asked, tugging strands of hair out of his mouth and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"This. Air and Fire, I want you," Ereinion groaned. He rolled over, sliding a strong hand down Elrond's torso until he gasped and twisted beneath the touch.
"You may be right," Elrond managed to say, his voice hoarse and breathless. "You could stay in Tirion a while, at least until you come of age…"
Ereinion nodded, his hand shifting to rest on Elrond's hip, and he met Elrond's gaze as they considered the proposition. Elrond's eyes dropped first and Ereinion shook his head.
"No. I am not right. We cannot make this easier, but we can certainly make it worse: me staying in Tirion would do that."
"We are star-crossed," Elrond murmured, relieved beyond measure. "Fated to share our hearts beyond all will and reason to prevent it and yet ever divided by the circumstances." He rested his head on Ereinion's chest, feeling his lover's breast rise and fall in a heavy sigh. Ereinion's fingers wove into his hair, tugging gently until Elrond lifted his head to bring their lips together once more. As the big elf's hands cupped his face, Elrond found himself chuckling and Ereinion drew back to lift his eyebrows. Giving his head a shake, Elrond explained, "That is the first time in a long while I have heard you admit to being wrong."
Ereinion grinned. "You know I do not like to own it. A king is never wrong... He is merely following an alternative path until such time as good advice redirects him."
"You have forgotten little," Elrond said, smiling too.
"Nor," Ereinion murmured, toying with a lock of Elrond's hair. "Have I forgotten whose advice frequently steered me right. I have got to go back to Tirion shortly…"
They travelled to Tirion together and there met with Ardís. The young woman was working with a highly respected weapon-crafter in the city and had turned her skill with blades into creating ornate but fully functional, practical weaponry for all of the social circles. It was she who enabled Elrond to reinforce the negotiations with the Sindarin elves, for she provided him with the means of encouraging trade between the Noldorin and Sindarin elves: Amdir and Amroth became quickly more amenable to the liaisons.
* * * *
News came from the East some months later, brought by Galadriel, that Celeborn and the twins were to come West in five or so years and Legolas too would follow. Elrond went with Galadriel to Ingwe to ask for counsel with Manwë and Elbereth. Galadriel herself went alone before the Valar, asking for an edict that Gimli might accompany the Mirkwood prince, for he would attempt the crossing in the dwarf's company. Elrond returned to pass the news of the remainder of the Fellowship's coming to a delighted Frodo. The hobbit tightly embraced the former lord of Rivendell, Elrond kneeling to return the grip, when Galadriel, weary but with a smile lit from within, brought the confirmation that Gimli's passage into the West was acceptable and that Samwise Gamgee would have a place there should he choose to come.
"And he will," Galadriel whispered into the hobbit's ear as she too rose from her knees.
That night Elrond spent recounting the tale of the Fellowship to Ereinion and turning over the failing of Isildur, until the sun took back the light loaned nightly to the moon. Ereinion had previously regarded the hobbits with a curious detachment bordering on perplexity, for he had never previously had occasion to interact closely with them; yet he took time now to speak with them beyond the bounds of simple pleasantries. He grew quickly fond of Bilbo for his poetic tongue and his startling perceptiveness in regards to the relationship between the two elves. The elderly hobbit wrote, with Elrond's input, a ballad that cleverly spoke of the years of Lindon and Imladris, yet hid beneath the surface a double-entendre that detailed the true nature of their alliance. For a while this cunning verse spared them the torture of being close and yet chastely apart, for Elrond whiled away the hours of the night singing to the stars, Ereinion content to hold him close and listen.
Elrond took comfort in his partner's arms, for though Galadriel's news had brought him joy on one count, he was painfully aware that Arwen's time was running short. Five years, perhaps less, perhaps a little more. Five years was but a heartbeat in the passing of eternity and time seemed to tear its way past like waters in flood. And Celebrían was no consolation.
On the eve of the wedding between Gailel and Gildor they sat together for several hours, watching the dancers whirling around them while Elrond spoke, at Celebrian's request, of the wedding between Estel and Arwen. Galadriel and Gil-galad shared their table, nursing respective drinks of sparkling cordial and a particularly powerful spirit Elrond privately wished Ereinion would not drink, their unspoken words rueing that they could not take their heart-partners onto the floor. Taking anyone else would be considered inappropriate, though for Ereinion and Elrond to share even a single dance would be even more so. Yet, several drinks later, Ereinion took unexpected advantage of his restored youth to accept Galadriel's sparkling-eyed offer to dance, and Elrond was left alone with Celebrían. She had fallen quiet, her expression pensive.
"This is their day of joy, something to treasure for all eternity," she said eventually, as Gildor and Gailel bowed laughingly out of the dance circle and into a breathless embrace.
"Yes," Elrond began and then broke off, something in her tone making him pause.
She flashed him a brief, unhappy smile. "We never could have claimed that for our wedding," she said quietly. "And nor can our daughter."
Elrond watched her face as she stared at the tablecloth, her features unreadable. He reached to touch her hand, but she remained motionless under the contact.
"Luthien wedded Beren and she does not walk in this land. No elf who marries a mortal ever may."
"Arwen knows that," Elrond said quietly, folding his fingers around Celebrian's and trying to coax some life into her still form. "She held to her choice, Celebrían. To part her from Estel would have brought her to another death, from grief."
"She could have returned from such a death - though she might not have wished to." Celebrían lifted her eyes to stare suddenly at her mother and Ereinion as they negotiated in elegant style the steps of the Spiral. "The women of your family are star-crossed in love."
She turned to look at him, her gaze sharp and piercing, another cynical smile twisting her lips.
"And perhaps not only the women."
Elrond felt a coldness envelop him.
"Do you blame me for Arwen's fate?" he asked quietly.
Celebrían did not answer for a moment. Then, at last, she shook her head.
"It was her choice," she said in a strange, cold voice. "You were right to let her do as she wished. She was your daughter."
Elrond stared at her, frowning. "Our daughter."
Celebrían shook her head again. "No, Elrond, yours. Only your child could think that love conquers all, even death." She wrapped her arms around herself, a shiver passing through her frame and fell silent.
"Arwen followed her heart, Celebrían..." Elrond began.
"Do they not look good together?" Celebrían said, gesturing to her mother and Ereinion.
Wheeling and weaving together as though Galadriel were teaching Ereinion the steps of dances he could have done backwards, the elder woman was decked in white silk, the colour crisp and pure against the deep cobalt of Ereinion's robes. It was not their clothing that made them suit so well but the easy confidence with which they negotiated the steps, the flair and grace of their dancing matched by few others on the floor.
Elrond nodded slowly and took a sip of his drink, letting her close the conversation. They never spoke of Arwen again.
It was Ereinion to whom Elrond could speak of his daughter. Perhaps because she stayed in Middle-earth, perhaps because she in all description showed herself to be Elrond's daughter and less her mother's child, perhaps because she too knew what it was to hold a love as painful as it was precious, Ereinion was curiously receptive to conversation about Arwen; otherwise the subject of Elrond's children and the part of his partner's life that he had not shared in drew only silence and discomfort into his manner. Elrond was grateful; he waited with a mixture of trepidation and hope for the day that would come when his twins docked in Valinor, and his daughter and the son he fostered would be pronounced dead. A cruel twist of fate it seemed that Ereinion's majority and the arrival of the twins into the Undying Lands would come so closely coupled with the loss of his precious daughter.
Yet the sands of time did not cease their movement, ever shaping the endless shores of eternity and, as fate or perhaps some quirk of humour in the will of Eru determined, the convening of the Sindarin elves and the full council coincided with Ereinion's coming of age. Celebrían, Cirdan and Elrond had been planning a quiet celebration of this momentous date when they were interrupted by the arrival of the missive from Ingwe, which set the date for the council meeting. The house was immediately plunged into chaos, for, while they had hoped to keep the plans for celebration of Ereinion's coming of majority from him, they could not conceal the coming of the council, in whose honour a banquet had to be held in order to appease the Sindar. Neither date was alterable, and the preparations to accommodate the feeding of those simply within the household, plus Galadriel, Glorfindel and Erestor, who had retired to Glorfindel's realm the instant his health permitted, were suddenly extremely insufficient. Extra quantities of all kinds of edibles had to be ordered, including food that would accommodate the non-meat eating Sindar, along with the fish-eating Teleri and the omnivorous Noldor. Elrond, trying to plan the council with Ereinion, kept leaping to his feet to intercept messengers from Celebrían about the smaller gift-giving celebration to be held a few hours prior to the banquet; messengers who continually failed to appreciate the need for secrecy in their deliveries.
The aim to spend an hour in private celebration with the people closest to Ereinion, and to keep aside another hour or so for Elrond and Ereinion to retreat privately together before the banquet, was thrown completely by the early arrival of Ingwe and Finarfin. A very agitated Celebrian summoned Elrond from the high king's side, discreetly manoeuvring her mother into his place while she related Finarfin's request to witness Ereinion's Coming of Age ceremony.
"I thought we agreed that this was going to be a quiet affair," Cirdan said worriedly. "Ereinion's age, or rather current lack of it, we have managed to keep fairly low profile these last years; it is not very prudent to suddenly announce it now."
Celebrían shrugged. "Finarfin was fairly insistent," she said. "If we do not arrange it I suspect he may make a toast during the Council ceremony, which would imply we have been concealing something from the Sindar."
Elrond nodded. "Very well, so we make the celebration public. Ereinion will not mind, although I think now we must forewarn him. We do not want the Sindar to think we are hiding anything and I confess I had quite forgotten that Ereinion's council status is being elevated from honorary to full membership with his coming of age; I had been treating him as though it were so already. Ingwe will want to announce that, not just Finarfin, and Olwë will insist upon it. If we make everything public we will be able to allow them to do just that and we can work out a few speeches to remind everyone how old Ereinion was when he took the high kingship in Middle-earth, and hopefully that will reassure any uncertainties."
With less than a day remaining before the banquet the plans were changed once more, amidst the arrivals of the various council members and the Sindar. No one took rest that night preceding it and still it was nearing dawn before Elrond managed to collar Ereinion long enough to warn him of the planned proceedings. Beneath the stars of the watchtower, where they had quietly slipped to speak together and keep an eye out for the last statespersons, Idril and Tuor, to arrive, Elrond took the opportunity to give his gift to Ereinion.
"I have something else to present you with formally," he said quietly, gently taking Ereinion's hand and pressing a small velvet pouch into it. "But I wanted this to be between us alone; I want you to wear it today."
Ereinion curled his fingers around the little bag, his eyes softening from confusion to affection as he glanced at Elrond. He teased open the strings of the bag and onto his outstretched palm tumbled the gift. Ereinion caught his breath. A ring, one band of silver, one gold, like a wedding band attached to a betrothal ring, formed a single circlet. Inside in curving script was the single word: forever. The inscription was held in parenthesis by the crest of Lindon at the head and Imladris at the end. Ereinion's lips parted speechlessly and Elrond quickly laid his fingers over his lover's lips.
"I cannot give you any ceremony; we cannot show what we share, but that does not make it any less real," he whispered urgently. "Wear it always, love, on your other hand: the *left* forefinger. In my giving of it, let it show you my heart, and in wearing it you show me yours. I love you."
Without speaking, Ereinion slid the circlet onto his finger, slipping the pouch into his pocket. Then he drew Elrond into his arms and kissed him deeply, expressing in the kiss all that he could not find the words to say. When the need for air finally drew them apart and Idril's banner they spied at the gates below, they hurried from the tower.
The banquet hall opened its doors at dusk, the visiting dignitaries refreshed during the hours preceding it with water for washing and small quantities of food and drink provided. Ereinion and Elrond stood with the high king and the head of the Upper Council to greet the rest of the Elven Council and the Sindarin representatives, while Cirdan and Celebrían played host and hostess. Conversation flowed with the wine, old and new acquaintances greeting each other with varying degrees of warmth and reserve. Ereinion spoke pleasantly with every guest he passed; yet he almost overlooked the wary figure that lingered by the door. Elrond touched his arm and Ereinion started, stared, and embraced the young woman, protocol slipping slightly in his enthusiasm.
"You came!"
"Well, yes," Ardís shifted her feet and shrugged. Her shoulders were bared by the fall of her deep burgundy gown, her chestnut hair swept up into a graceful knot at the back of her head. She wore at her side a jewelled dagger and Elrond caught the falter of Ereinion's fingers as he touched her hair, contacting with whatever weapon she wore hidden amongst the thick strands. "Finarfin asked me to come as a guard." She grinned and it was almost her old smile. "I think he is trying to make up for disturbing my head."
Ereinion smiled at her. "How are you? You were still a little...distant last time I came to Tirion."
Again she lifted her shoulders. "Better. Ereinion, thank you."
"I expect full remuneration," he murmured softly, continuing when she arched a sceptical eyebrow, "Join me in my kingdom when it is complete; bring your trade with you, if you wish."
Ardís' eyes lit and she clasped his hands tightly for a moment.
"Send me word, the instant it is complete, or better yet, if you wish me to work metal and gemstones into the architecture let me know then."
"Your services will be required, my lady," Ereinion bowed to her. "We will speak further of this before you return to Tirion."
They parted ways as the chimes musically announced the beginning of the banquet and the first of the speeches began as they were seated.
"Greetings all, my lords and ladies, my high king," Cirdan said, rising to address the assembled. "We are gathered here for a dual purpose: firstly to welcome the Sindarin elves of Tol Erresea, greetings my good kings Thingol, Amdir, Amroth. We will move on to discuss this wonderful development when we have concluded our festivities and rested sufficiently to speak of business. But now to our second matter, announcing the coming of age of one in our number, my own foster-son and an honorary member of the Lower Council, Ereinion Gil-galad, whose name and reputation is, I am sure, known to many if not all of you." Curious glances flickered around the table as the various elves present craned their necks to eye Ereinion. Ereinion nodded formally to all, looking up with a surprised expression and a smile as Celebrían placed a mithril wrought Coming of Age crown decorated with the crest of Lindon, Ardís' handiwork but a gift Elrond knew to be from Finarfin, upon his brow.
"It is fortunate that these two events coincide," Olwë spoke as Cirdan gestured for him to rise and then seated himself. "As head of the Upper Council it is within my power to elevate Gil-galad's status from honorary member of our prestigious Council to full membership. As Cirdan has said there are few among you who cannot have heard tell of this former king of the Noldor people and even those among us, myself included, whose people were injured by the predecessors of this man find ourselves in admiration of his accomplishments…"
Listening to Olwë's speech continue, for as head of the Upper Council it was his place to enforce and explain his decision to his peoples and the visiting Sindar, Elrond caught Ereinion's eye briefly. The big elf was smiling slightly as various instances of his reign were recounted, now by Cirdan, whom Olwë had handed over to once more, given his own estrangement from Ereinion by the sea that had separated them during Ereinion's first lifetime. Ereinion's eyes flicked heavenward at Cirdan's praises, too honest to deny them, but decorous enough to give the impression of modesty.
Ingwe's controlled baritone then announced the development of Ereinion's realm, Silver Haven, and the high king welcomed Ereinion publicly before the people. Then, to Elrond's surprise, Olwë was motioned to stand once more.
King's Games.
"We have one more matter to which we must attend before we may allow you to partake of the delicious feast our hosts have so kindly provided," Olwë said. Raising his glass he turned to Ereinion, a small smile playing at the corners of his thin lips. "Ereinion Gil-galad, hereafter called by that prodigious after-name both earned and deserved from your accomplishments in Middle-earth, we offer you leadership of the Lower Council as befits the title of the lord and king you are to become in your new realm. Gil-galad, do you accept?"
Elrond sat utterly still. Shock penetrated down into his bones. The room was airless. Each drawn breath brought no nourishment, no oxygen. Hurt welled beneath his breast. The request, though formulated to seem as being asked upon the spur of the moment, would have been put to Ereinion before now. Ereinion would accept, or the offer would not have been publicly made. "King's Games" it was called, to publicly stage the acceptance of an offer that had already been agreed upon in private.
The offer itself was not a shock to Elrond. He had taken the title himself on a temporary basis of his own choosing and Ereinion was intended to assume it. But the timing… It was not that Ereinion was not more than capable of the title. His former reign as high king had been well received by many. His development in his new life had once more granted him equal intelligence and skill to govern people. He was a wise choice, though Elrond himself was biased to think it so. Watching Ereinion grow this time, however, his perspective was more disinterested and he held by his conviction, lingering from their former time, that Ereinion was a good and careful ruler.
Yet hurt relentlessly blossomed beneath his breast, thin, thorny spikes of pain piercing his heart beneath the burning flower. Ereinion had mentioned not one word to Elrond of being approached with this offer, though it had surely been earlier put to him, perhaps a week, a month, or even a year before this day. It was not a decision Elrond would have expected the younger elf to make alone; he would have expected Ereinion to ask advice from Cirdan, Elrond, or even Galadriel. Elrond, acting as head of the Lower Council until that time, should have been informed - asked - before Ereinion himself. But he had heard not a word to indicate the choice was even posed yet.
Indeed it should not have been, had Ingwe and Olwe held to the conditions specified by seven years previously when the proposal for Ereinion's leadership was laid before the Upper Council. Ereinion was required not only to reach his majority but also to establish a realm and sustain it for fifty years. He was not supposed to be able to claim the leadership, kingship, of the Lower Council until his first centennial.
Lifting eyes whose pain it took all his years of practice to conceal, Elrond looked up at Ereinion. The younger elf had been idly playing with the stem of his glass, swirling the dregs of wine around in dark pools that lapped against the crystal sides, catching the light and glimmering in ruby, scarlet and crimson hues. Ereinion now lifted his head with a smile upon his lips. He rose with studiously slow grace and bestowed his smile charmingly upon all. He nodded regally to the head of the council, his hair shimmering like polished obsidian, pinpricked with stars of gold from the reflection of the candles suspended above.
"I thank you, Olwë, I am honoured indeed to accept that place."
Elrond did not hear the brief speech and the promises - though none such that he could not fulfil them - Ereinion made, nor the polite request that suggestions were put to him, should people wish, or indeed his reminders that the power was dispersed for the benefits of the elves and those others granted permission to the Undying Lands. The applause that erupted around Elrond deafened him, and the impudent whistle that issued from a grinning Ardís shattered in his ears. It was not until the excited conversation around him fell to a level only a little above normal speech that Elrond managed to drag his gaze once more to Ereinion.
And once more the breath was stolen from him. Gil-galad's gaze was indigo-dark with suppressed fury, the lines of his face sculpted forcibly into an expression of geniality. The fingers of one hand, almost hidden beneath the folds of his robes, were clenched into a bloodless fist.
* * * *
Ereinion slammed the door to his chambers so hard that it ricocheted back out of its frame, punishing the wall with its handle and chipping the stone. Ereinion kicked it angrily closed, ignoring the deep indentations upon the bronze knob and stood for a moment, his hands tightly knotted into fists. In a whirlwind of fury he snatched the Coming of Age crown from his brow, tearing out strands of his ebony mane, and flung it savagely across the room. It rolled into a corner with a strangely brassy note and fell to the floor, defeated. Elrond stared at him.
It had taken a great deal to extricate themselves from the gathering at all, given Ereinion's new status. Persons of note among them had detained them time and time again and Ereinion could not wisely turn their conversations aside. Thingol's approach had stayed them for several motions of the moon, for that king was very ill disposed to the Noldor and Ereinion was working hard to assure his co-operation and friendship. Thingol would not yet participate in the Council, distancing himself and his people to command his realm in his own chosen way, but his power and wisdom were such that he made a valuable ally and certainly not one to offend.
Knowing that the celebrations would continue easily until the rising of the sun they had informed Cirdan that they were taking leave for a few hours and slipped quietly away. Though not so quietly as to avoid a kindly taunt about how they planned to celebrate Ereinion's fiftieth, and coming of majority, from Ardís. Amidst the difficulties of disentangling themselves from various acquaintances, Elrond had not had time to enquire the reason behind Ereinion's hidden anger. Nor to speak of his own hurt.
"They set me up!" Ereinion spat the words, crossing angrily to the bed and throwing off the sash placed about his chest. He wheeled to face Elrond. "They set me up. I take it you were not aware that they intended *this* night to ask me to become leader of the Lower Council?"
"No, I was not," Elrond replied quietly. "I did rather think that you would have told me, Ereinion."
"Told you?" Ereinion threw back, scraping a hand roughly through his hair and pushing it back from his face. "Told you? Elrond, I did not know!"
Elrond was startled.
"You – what?" he gaped in incomprehension.
"I did not know," Ereinion irritably reiterated. "You could have warned me, Elrond!"
"I did not know," Elrond said quietly.
Ereinion stared at him.
"What?" he said in a low voice.
"I did not know. There was no mention to me that the Council had changed their plans at all. I knew as you did that it was an eventuality, but I was not aware that the conditions had been waived."
"Then a full consensus was not taken, if you were not told," Ereinion said, sounding quite as stupefied as Elrond felt.
"No, it would seem not." Elrond shook his head. "Ereinion, are you trying to tell me that this question was not posed to you before – that your answer was not prepared?"
"It most certainly was not," Ereinion retorted, sounding disgusted. "What else could I say, Elrond? It would undermine the entire Council if I had said nay – aye, and my own position. I had to accept!"
"Are you saying that you would not have done, had the question been posed privately?" Elrond warily enquired, suddenly concerned.
"Of course I would not have agreed," Ereinion's tone was suddenly bitter. He shook his head and looked away.
Elrond crossed to him, touching his lover's arm and Ereinion turned resentful eyes upon him.
Elrond gathered him close, words failing him entirely. He smoothed his hands through the dark hair spilling across his shoulder, and stroked Ereinion's cheek with long fingers.
"Your nature will stand you in good stead,” he reassuringly offered. “You are still yourself, Ereinion, and you were a good king."
"That is hardly for me to decide," Ereinion replied scathingly. Then he sighed. "I am sorry, I do not mean to take this out on you."
"Thank you," Elrond said dryly.
Ereinion wheeled away from him, clutching up thick handfuls of his hair and uttering a curse of despair.
It was the first time Elrond had ever heard him swear by the Dark Halls, and a shudder ran through him, for it was something one returned from the keeping of Mandos rarely said – it was an utter damnation to them. Though the Halls were said not to be a place of evil, but one of learning, healing, correction and reshaping, it was still unnatural. Those there had been snatched from life; were apart from Arda and all that was dear to them. It was unnatural for an elf.
"Ereinion, shh," Elrond said, catching up the clawing hands in his own, hushing the curse and the despair. "I know not how to ask this, but are you so sure that you do not? Is it not the way of those released from the Dark Halls to take up their former station within Arda, and so is this not part of your agreement for accepting your former life back?"
"No!" Ereinion sharply returned. "No, it is not! We are not given back our former lives, but granted new ones with which to continue what was sundered, redress what was put wrong by death. Arda and time move on during the separation from life – come, Elrond, are you not married now, the One Ring destroyed and all those others with it? Middle-earth is in the hands of men and our people fading from the shores. There is little left of my former life to retake! I can find similar roles, bless Celebrían, or those that wrought the strange fates that reunited us." He touched Elrond's cheek and slid his arms around the peredhel. "Ah Elbereth, I do find sanctuary once more with you." He leaned his cheek against Elrond's temple and closed his eyes. "Gladly I would accept responsibilities and as part of this council rule. But I do not want to be a king again, and certainly not now! I took the crown too early last time, and then I had a further twenty years to my age. I do not wish the same mistake made again now! Do you not see? The Council has done this to make me dependent upon them. I do not know enough, nor have I had formal part in their doings long enough to understand the system completely enough to rule it. This was done to put me under their power and I cannot do it without them."
"Cirdan, Galadriel, and Glorfindel would not have assented to that!" Elrond shook his head in disbelief.
"If they knew," Gil-galad heavily said. "After all, you did not."
"The rift in the Council has long been known,” Elrond grimly noted. “Those long upon these shores are at odds with those newly come. It is an almost equal divide. And we of the newer half are yet reliant upon those veterans that form its greater half."
"Exactly,” Ereinion said grimly. “It swings the power balance into their favour, while seeming to equalise it to the public eye. And I cannot say a word, lest expressing my feelings on this matter disrupts negotiations with the Sindar. What truly perfect timing."
Disgusted, Elrond was silent. He shook his head, meeting Ereinion's eyes and seeing therein the same bitter fury.
"Such are the ways of politics," Elrond said at last, without humour.
Ereinion's smile was similarly unamused and for a few moments they were quiet, reflecting upon the treachery.
Then Gil-galad sighed. "It is done. We can do nothing until the morning, lest we cause disturbance amongst the peoples. Can we not think of better ways to spend this night than debating the betrayals of the system?"
Elrond looked up at him, a smile light upon his lips at the suggestion clear in Ereinion's tone.
"I would not waste another moment upon such foul thoughts," Ereinion replied, running his tongue quickly over his bottom lip.
The gesture, slightly apprehensive, despite the fire in his eyes, was sensuous to behold. Elrond did not ever recall seeing Ereinion nervous, though he himself had felt so in the first act they had ever shared. Elrond smiled, his gaze tracing the slight crease between Ereinion's brows, no longer formed from angry tension, but that of another kind.
"Then let us spoil not a moment more," he softly acquiesced.
But neither moved. All thoughts of anger were dissipated in the realisation that finally no further barriers divided them. And now the distance of but a few paces across the floor became a thousand leagues. Reality was not to be trusted. It did not seem possible that they were released from the shackles of Ereinion's years. Eyes met and held across the gap, amused smiles shared in disbelief at their own hesitation. But neither moved.
"Is this not ridiculous?" Elrond said a moment later, a laugh spilling from his lips as he shook his head. He stepped across the chamber and held out his hands. Ereinion took them, allowing himself to be drawn close. Tension quivered between them, their fingers nervously linking and unlinking. Each touch was electric to their senses. Elrond lifted a hand to brush back Ereinion's hair, and instinctively he shied from it, tossing his head like an unsettled horse. Elrond curled his fingers closed, his gesture aborted. It was Gil-galad who laughed then, capturing Elrond's fist in both his hands and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.
"You are right," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "This - we - are ridiculous!" He twined the fingers of one hand through Elrond's and with his other hand cupped Elrond's cheek in his palm. His thumb trailed tentatively over Elrond's lips, his voice low as he said: "Kiss me."
Elrond smiled, tilting his head so that his lips brushed chastely against Ereinion's. The butterfly-soft touch tingled upon his skin and a pleasant shiver ran through him as he brought their lips together once more. Ereinion's lips yielded willingly beneath his own, and Elrond caressed the plush perimeter of his lover's mouth, drawing the soft lips between his own to worship the tender flesh. The slick sweep and flicker of Ereinion's tongue played across the outline of his lips, and Elrond's fingers moved to loosely cup the flawless skin of his beloved's features. Ereinion's arms embraced him, and he arched his back, rising into the contact, delighting in the strength that enveloped him as in the days of old. He kissed Ereinion again; suckling upon the sensitive lips, and sliding his hands into the thick, dark hair, feeling its silken tendrils web his fingers. The hard muscle of Ereinion's chest was stability, and through the thickness of their robes Elrond could feel the quickening heartbeat of his lover beginning to pound in time with his own. The unity of their lips was sweetest heaven, and the thought that they could finally consummate the desire, so long denied, sparked the heightened burning of a fire that had endlessly smouldered in Elrond's body. Heat pulsed in his veins, beat in his heart and throbbed through every muscle in his body. He kissed Ereinion again, more fiercely this time, as though to imbue the younger elf with every morsel of his desire, and drink Ereinion's from him.
Gil-galad pulled back, eyeing Elrond hungrily, his chest rising rapidly and falling unsteadily. His gaze, desire darkened, held Elrond's.
Elrond laughed, a brief ripple of delight that came from deep within him, as he answered.
"Good," Gil-galad's lips moved as they touched Elrond's in a brief, intense kiss.
Elrond tilted his head back with a stifled groan as Ereinion's lips caressed the sensitive flesh of his neck.
Teeth lightly closed around his earlobe and Ereinion's chuckle reverberated through him.
Elrond turned his head to catch his lover's lips with his own again, running a hand lightly across the robe-screened posterior of the body pressed so tightly against his own. Ereinion's breath caught sharply, and he leaned into Elrond, his lips roughly ensnaring Elrond's lower lip. His fingers shifted from their grip upon the back of Elrond's robes, to impatiently work at the fastenings that held the layers of ruby and sapphire formality that shielded their bodies from full contact. The intricacies of state attire were secured well, and Ereinion growled in frustration; a heady sound that made Elrond half laugh, half groan.
"If these wretched garments will not undo, could they not have the courtesy to rip?" Ereinion muttered in Elrond's ear.
"You are merely out of practice," Elrond teased, capturing Ereinion's hands in his own and with his own nimble fingers beginning to loosen the king's garments, unbuckling the clasps of Ereinion's outer robes and letting them loosely hang.
Ereinion was silent, and he stepped behind Elrond to undo the stubborn catches that bound his robes. Elrond tipped his head back, so that it rested comfortably on Ereinion's shoulder. Ereinion's gaze was slightly averted, his hair shielding his features.
"Or just impatient," Elrond added softly.
Ereinion glanced at him again, offering a slightly twisted smile, and kissed Elrond's forehead.
Elrond pivoted around as his outer robes fell away, leaving him feeling curiously exposed, and yet suddenly able to breathe with an ease he had not even realised had been restricted. He touched Ereinion's cheek, and brought their lips together once more.
Ereinion's fingers weaved through his own.
Unable to resist such tantalising delight, Elrond let his lips brush over the satiny mouth so close to his own.
His fingers moved quickly. The brief instants of the releasing of each clasp still binding the layers of clothing they had proudly attired themselves in earlier, now seemed to punctuate each step closer to their consummation. The endless, tentative ritual marked the passage of time. Elrond pushed Ereinion's robes from his shoulders, beginning to unfasten the shirt beneath. The muscles underneath his fingers quivered with tension and he traced their anticipation with his lips. Ereinion gasped, and fingers tightly knotted into Elrond's hair as his lips trailed lower, brushing over the wine-dark peak of a nipple. Ereinion's breath hissed outwards as the sensitive flesh was tenderly clasped between soft lips, and Elrond felt the tremor of tension pass through his lover's form. He traced its path with his fingertips, pausing at the belt of Ereinion's breeches, and hooking his fingers into the dividing cloth. He rose, stealing a swift kiss from his lover's lips.
"Relax," he whispered, running his fingers lightly down Ereinion's cheek.
"That is harder than you would believe." Ereinion's whisper sounded in his ear, and Elrond was held close, with no way of reading the former king's face. A hand trailed briefly down his back.
Elrond hushed him with a kiss, brushing a line of kisses down his lover's jaw. Stepping back a little he began to unfasten his own upper garments, feeling the pressure of the hungry gaze upon him and the surge of heat that rose from low within him at the sensation. Hands closed over his own, and inch by excruciatingly slow inch, his shirt was pushed from his shoulders, and fingers ran over his tingling skin. He caught his breath as a hand slid up his chest, Ereinion's fingers teasingly splayed to brush close to the taut peaks that begged for attention.
Gil-galad uttered a soft growl, and stepped suddenly forward, his lips ferociously claiming Elrond's in a bruising kiss. Quick steps propelled them backwards to the bed, and the soft mattress caved beneath him as Elrond was pushed back onto the sheets. Ereinion's fingers deftly negotiated the lacings of his lover's breechcloth, and a pleasant shiver passed through Elrond at the touch of the cool air as he was released. Ereinion had dropped to his knees, and his fingertips lightly played upon the tender flesh of Elrond's inner thighs, building the need already rising between his legs.
"Ereinion," Elrond almost groaned, tilting his head back to remove from his vision the utterly erotic sight.
The kiss laid swiftly upon his belly made him jump, and Elrond clutched involuntarily at the sheets as Ereinion disingenuously murmured: "Yes?"
As Ereinion bowed his head lower, Elrond cried out, raising a clenched fist to his lips. He bit down upon his knuckles, the agony of waiting heightened so much more unbearably by the closeness that now consumed him. Warmth trailed teasingly root to tip as a lazy tongue explored him.
"Touch me, do not torment me," Elrond hissed out, tightening his stranglehold upon the bedcovers. "Ereinion… Ai! This is unfair!"
"Life...is...not...fair," came the amused reply, punctuated by more tauntingly bestowed kisses. Ereinion lifted his head, offering Elrond a brief grin. "And death has little to recommend it."
Elrond's laugh choked off into a moan as the heat of Ereinion's mouth engulfed him. He arched his back, and almost cried out as incautious teeth scraped against the agonisingly sensitive flesh. Shivers stirred through his flesh as caressing fingers continued their play on spread thighs, while the swirling strokes of Ereinion's tongue crafted the desperate need within him. He arched his back until the muscles burned at the delightful tension, bucking his hips involuntarily.
The sweeping, sensuous strokes of his tongue sent wave after wave of pleasure shuddering through Elrond. The brief, teasing tug at the soft curls of hair that masked his groin brought a loud gasp from his lips, and Ereinion's slight chuckle reverberated along his length. A finger traced the sensitive cleft and Elrond hissed through his teeth, the sound becoming a cry as Ereinion's lips drew him deep.
"Ereinion - ah! Ereinion…" Elrond rasped out, clutching at a handful of the younger elf's hair, trying to forewarn him. Ereinion increased his motions.
Involuntarily his spine bowed and Elrond arched upwards with a cry. Ereinion coughed, half falling back onto his heels, wiped his mouth and swallowed convulsively. Elrond, in boneless collapse across the sheets, rolled his head to look at the other elf, propping himself up upon a feeble elbow.
"Sorry," he breathlessly gasped.
"I am fine." Ereinion did not sound convinced and he swallowed once more, hard. Then, with more conviction he levelled a teasing glower at his lover. "Do not apologise, Elrond!"
Elrond reached out a lazy hand, brushing aside a lock of straying dark hair, and looping it behind Ereinion's ear. He had regained some of his breath, though his body still thrummed with echoes from the violent surge of irresistible passion.
Ereinion pulled a slight face.
He covered his discomfort with an averted glance. Elrond struggled into a sitting position, with limbs water weak. Ereinion rose on his knees once more, allowing himself briefly to be held close.
It was he who once more brought their lips together again, the slick, salty taste of pre-coital fluids lending a spice to their kiss. Elrond's hands slid to the breeches Ereinion still wore, and felt the other elf tense. For a moment he simply smoothed his fingers down the backs of the velvet-clad thighs. It was slowly that he drew his hands to the fore, and began to unlace the confining breeches. Ereinion rose then, his hands falling to Elrond's shoulders to steady himself. His lips found Elrond's hair in quick, repeated kisses as Elrond guided the cloth down his legs. Elrond gently rested his head against Ereinion's flank; soft tendrils of hair brushed across his groin and he twitched beneath the involuntary caresses.
Elrond slid his hands to the backs of the Ereinion's knees, drawing him into a straddle upon the bed. He moved one hand to the back of Ereinion's head, bringing him close for a reassuring kiss. Lips played across his own, suckling tantalisingly for a moment, before Ereinion deepened the kiss. Strong arms enveloped Elrond's torso and he slipped his own hands up the muscled back, feeling the rough lines of remembered scars that graced the youthful flesh. Ereinion's fingers echoed his movements, touching the toughened tissue of old injuries, long healed and almost forgotten, save in the few physical reminders that remained.
"Battle of Eregion," Ereinion whispered in his ear, his fingers following the silver thread of knotted tissue that had sliced through Elrond's shoulder as a blade swung from behind had bitten through his armour, splicing it from the ever-weak shoulder joint downward. The end was hooked slightly where Elrond had swung to face the cowardly attacker. For a brief moment Ereinion pressed closer to him, his lips urgent against Elrond's, his fingers tightening their hold. "I feared I had sent you to your death."
Elrond drew back a little, cupping Gil-galad's cheek, and gazing steadily into the deep sapphire eyes.
Ereinion's fingers slid over the scar once more, his touch barely perceptible through the still deadened, damaged skin. He made no answer, but his lips found Elrond's again, the kiss lingering, deep, and seeming to last for a heartbeat of eternity.
Slowly they reclined back against the pillows, Ereinion's legs intertwining with Elrond's, as their hands explored the familiar territory of the other's body. Lips did not part, save in fleeting heartbeats for breath. Fingers caressed, lingering but briefly, ever moving, recognising, and remembering. Elrond felt his body reawakening beneath the touches, and shifted against Ereinion. Ereinion's hand slid along Elrond's thigh, drawing the limb over his hip and bringing their bodies into closer contact. Elrond let his lips trail to the sensitive furled point of an ear, seeking distraction from the renewed pulse of desire. Ereinion shuddered, letting his head fall back. It was time.
"Think you can remember how to do this?" Elrond drew back as he spoke, touching Ereinion's cheek, his tone light enough to tease.
A brief kiss became a chiding nip, and Ereinion's gaze glowed with the cobalt haze of desire.
Elrond arched a startled eyebrow, and Ereinion laughed.
"An interesting parallel," Elrond noted, with a smirk.
Elrond caught his breath as Gil-galad's fingers pinched sharply at the peaked flesh of a nipple.
Elrond chuckled, his fingers smoothing through the thick, ebony hair he had tousled some moments before.
"Fortunate," Ereinion murmured back, his lips grazing Elrond's once more, and his fingers lightly traced patterns on his lover's chest. "For you."
Elrond laughed softly, pressing another kiss to Ereinion's lips, and then, with a parting caress, rolled over onto his stomach. "In the drawer," he said quietly. "There should be a vial…"
"You are prepared," Ereinion teased.
"I, for one, am too comfortable to wish to be searching for the oil now," Elrond retorted.
The scrape of the drawer was Ereinion's reply, and then, a brief silence. Elrond shifted, rolling over to again raise an eyebrow at Ereinion.
"Pick a different bottle next time," Ereinion growled, his teeth fastened around an obstinate stopper. The top came loose abruptly, and Ereinion pulled a face as a little of the oil slopped into his mouth. "Ugh! Elrond, this tastes revolting."
"You are not supposed to drink it," Elrond playfully returned, grinning as Ereinion glowered.
He took the bottle and poured a little of the contents into his hands. With one oily finger he wiped a line of the fluid across Ereinion's lips, chuckling as the former king swiped it away with a mock scowl. Elrond's fingers trailed down his jaw, and traced liquid patterns upon his lover's chest, leaving shimmering swirls over the clean lines of muscle. He brushed his fingertips across Ereinion's nipples, feeling the flesh stiffen and gather beneath his touch. Ereinion groaned, the sound low in his throat, and his hand lightly encircled Elrond's wrist in mute protest. Elrond locked one hand with Gil-galad's, the other slipping down the taut torso to leave oily trails. His fingers encircled the stiffened need that boldly projected the desire burning within Ereinion. Elrond guided his hands over the sensitive flesh, liberally coating it in the slippery oil. His lover moaned; this time the sound was lower, darker.
"Elrond..." Gil-galad's voice was little more than a groan; his head tipped wantonly back and his eyes half closed as though he sought some lower, more tolerable key.
Elrond nodded as the smoky cobalt gaze fell upon him, shifting once more to lie upon his stomach. Hands moved hesitantly across his lower back, their passage slick. A soft clunk and a cool, oily touch seeping against his thigh marked the spilling of the bottle. Elrond relaxed into the sheets, trying to breathe calmly as renewed desire rippled through him at the familiar caresses that traced and massaged the curve of his buttocks. Soft lips touched the base of his spine and the bedsprings creaked as Gil-galad shifted. At his ear, Ereinion spoke softly:
"Ready?"
Elrond nodded once more, arching into the sheet as his body was breached. For a moment he could not but bite his lip, the desire in him so fierce it constricted his muscles, and the intrusion burned. Ereinion's free hand smoothed briefly along Elrond's thigh and he ran his fingers through Elrond's hair. When he moved his hand again, the sensation was less alien, less uncomfortable.
"Better?"
Elrond breathed out slowly, shuddering a little in pleasure as Ereinion's fingers stirred sensations only half-remembered for the measure of delight they could invoke.
"Yes."
Slowly, the sensations began to build, the gentle crooking of the fingers making Elrond's hands tighten into the covers, this time in suppressed agony of desire.
Ereinion's voice whispered teasingly in his ear, "And what of this?"
"You are a merciless tormentor," Elrond ground out, the intended scolding in his voice surrendering to an irresistible, half-despairing laugh.
The fingers were slowly withdrawing, leaving a pleasurable tingling in the relaxing nerves.
"I know." Ereinion's lips touched against Elrond's. "I love you."
"And I you," Elrond whispered, his voice becoming a moan as Ereinion slid inside him.
For a moment, there was no air to breathe, and darkness filled his vision as he closed his eyes involuntarily. His whole body shuddered at the sensation of possession, the claiming in warmth, and desire that burnt and burned in turn. Completeness swallowed him, and there was no separation. For a moment, all was still, as though to hold in place the moment of their joining. Then Elrond pressed back a little, urging Ereinion to move, and the former king rocked his hips, once.
The utterly pleasurable, aching sensation spread outwards in a fan that unfolded up Elrond's spine, a moan slid from his lips, and Ereinion's hips flicked against him. He rose into the movement, lifting their bodies in sync. The pleasure of their coupling rolled through him, like thunder tumbling in over itself from the hills. Hands were upon his hips, steadying, guiding, and deep came the thrusts that sent jolts from the depths of his body flashing through him, each burst of pleasure eclipsing the last. Ereinion groaned aloud, his voice alone intoxicating, sending shudders of aural delight through Elrond. The silken sheets beneath him slid with delicious friction against the sensitive need that had risen once more between his legs. The continuous assault of desire, building, ever building waves upon an ocean, brought cries from a place unidentifiable within him, his calls mingling with Ereinion's, until the distinction between them even elven ears could not tell. Heat surged, melting the bounds of their physical bodies, and they fell into one as in tandem they were consumed.
* * * *
At some indefinable point they must have parted, enough at least to separate into two forms once more, though they lay so closely entwined that scarce could the ownership of limbs be told. Ereinion's head rested against his shoulder, the dark hair slightly damp against his cheek. Their skin had cooled, though the warmth of their embrace wrapped around them, like a cocoon. Neither had drifted into sleep, reality had strayed so far from dream that the latter paled into insignificance, though delightful are the realms of elven rest. Content they were just to lie together, words were superfluous, the feeling of being held unsurpassable in its satisfaction.
It was Ereinion who stirred first, ever the more restless of the two. Yet even he seemed reluctant to leave their shared embrace completely, and sat up against the headboard, the covers barely concealing his lower limbs, his fingers smoothing through Elrond's hair as his lover stretched with idle felinity.
"I think I have worked out what is going on with the Council," he said thoughtfully.
Elrond twisted to prop himself up on one elbow.
Ereinion laughed aloud. "Strangely enough I was otherwise occupied. But if you wish to reaffirm that…"
Elrond smiled, reaching around to stroke Ereinion's leg gently.
Ereinion lifted his eyebrows.
Elrond pulled him close enough to kiss and then leaned his head back onto Ereinion's thigh.
Ereinion nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. Ingwe feels threatened by the elves from Middle-earth. It is disrupting his society that has been almost constant since the departure of Feanor. Olwe has objections to those of the Noldor, such as Galadriel, who have been able to return to Valinor given the suffering his kin endured at their hands. He dislikes me for the race I represent, particularly seeing as I am Fingon's son. Finarfin too is made uneasy by that, and also because of the dissention that has arisen between himself and his father-in-law Olwe over the issue of Galadriel. In short the Upper Council is disquieted by the Lower; who represent the elves of Middle-earth. The peoples have long been sundered by the sea, and our ways, though similar, are also strange. The elves of Valinor seek to control those of Middle-earth to prevent their culture being destabilised as the integration takes place. They seek to do this through me. Cirdan was different; he would go against their judgement but would not seek to change it. I will. So they have put me in a very difficult position, trying to force me to be dependent upon them. I have no stable realm yet, therefore minimal authority and a lack of practice in the ways of government – or so they would like to believe. I am also very young and how much sway my words will have against those of the firstborn I know not."
"But..." Elrond smiled, realising where the conversation was headed.
"They forget that I have a few thousand years worth of remembered experience, what appears to be a good reputation, a vast number of elves from Middle-earth here who will take my word above those of elders they have been inconvenienced by *and* the support of a very loyal Lower Council – among them yourself, Cirdan and Galadriel. And, to be fair, there is great wisdom and was once great friendship between the elves of the Upper Council. There is also Ecthelion, Idril and Tuor, Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo to provide perspective, and Oropher - to add a challenge! I quite like the odds."
Elrond returned the challenge-lit smile upon Ereinion's features with one of his own.
Ereinion chuckled softly, sliding down between the sheets once more and winding Elrond into his embrace.
Elrond nodded.
Ereinion reached out and smoothed back a straying strand of Elrond's ebony hair.
"I love you too," Elrond answered, brushing his lips against Ereinion's and feeling eternity encircle them.
"So," Elrond teased a little, unable to resist. "Has the endless time these years have taken to pass been worth the while?"
Gil-galad lifted his eyebrows, smiling at the very question.
"It is, is it not?" Elrond smiled. "Beloved, it is good to have you back."
Their lips touched in chaste, contented kiss.
"It is good to be back."
~ The End ~
(Almost...)
"To Mandos' Halls with the title! I do not want this!"
Then he paused, his thoughts turning the same way as Ereinion's.
"I would not have us share so precious a night in such ill humour, lest we spoil it for ourselves," he murmured, feeling the temptation pluck at his heart until the music of his soul began to call.
"Is this real?" he murmured incredulously.
"Yes," he said, and felt the shudder of pleasure that single word invoked. "It is real."
"Good," he murmured against Elrond's jaw, the soft whisper of his breath shivering through the Elrond's skin. "Because I would not wish to wake and find this but another dream."
"You have interesting dreams, if this could be counted among them."
"I know."
"Probably a little of both."
"We can resolve both this night."
"Promise?" he murmured against Elrond's lips.
"I...promise," he said, punctuating even that shortest of sentences with sweet tastes of his lover's lips.
"I am out of practice."
"But you had not," he replied, softly, firmly.
"No."
"There are some things," he murmured, his lips sliding to caress Elrond's jaw, his teeth fastening upon the sensitive point of an ear. "Like riding a horse, that you do not forget."
"If you have complaints about my horsemanship...?"
"None, beloved, none."
"I sincerely hope, Ereinion Gil-galad, that you have not spent the past few hours brooding upon that."
"Willingly. But first tell me of this theory of yours."
"It was you who raised this topic..."
"I think, beloved, we stand a very fair chance of making a difference here. Perhaps we can achieve the unity of our kind after all."
"Worth a try, surely?"
"I love you."
"This is how it is meant to be."