|JRR Tolkien – The Sons of Elrond, Fic #64: Ponder, 096: Waiting
||[Jan. 5th, 2017|04:41 pm]
The Ultimate FanFic Challenge!
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Prompt: 096: Waiting
Word Count: 912
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.
Summary: Elrohir contemplates both past and future as he awaits his spouse’s return. Part 53 of Prior Claim.
Elrohir patiently waited on the outskirts of Mirkwood. The sun was just beginning its ascent and though it was late summer, the morning breeze was bracing and brisk.
The forest was quiet at this early hour. Birdsong and the sounds of animals making their way through the brush or among the treetops were still minimal. And the elven sentries were nowhere to be seen so well were they concealed. They might nurse much curiosity about his sudden visit to the kingdom when their prince was not in residence not to mention surprise at Thranduil’s strangely familial welcome, but they would not show him either. At least, not intentionally.
The Elf lord considered the year that had passed since he parted from Legolas at the edge of Fangorn Forest during the trek home from Gondor.
It had been difficult being separated for so long but he’d wanted his love to indulge his wanderlust possibly for the last time. They had decided to establish an elven colony in fair Ithilien, the garden of Gondor. When they settled down in the southern province, neither of them would travel far afield again save when it came time to journey to Valinor.
As it was, Legolas would probably sail once Aragorn joined his fathers, the call of the sea grown so strong only his vow to serve the king until the latter passed away kept him anchored to these hither shores. But Elladan and Elrohir had made another vow to their sister that come what may they would see her firstborn Aragorn’s successor through the initial days of his reign before crossing over sea.
It would be Legolas’ turn to wait for him. His mate had offered to stay on with him until he and Elladan were ready to depart. But Elrohir had seen the need in his eyes to sail for Eldamar. He would not have his beloved suffer that constant pull on his very soul, a pull so fierce that had Legolas been a mere mortal, he might have been driven to madness.
Elrohir was more fortunate. The dual nature of the Half-elven was both curse and blessing, and with regards the call of the sea, it was more blessing than curse. Once triggered, the desire for Elvenhome was nigh inexorable, but the Half-elven managed to control it as no pureblooded Elf could. And in any case, there would come the day when he would finally answer the call. Not so his sister, he somberly thought.
Arwen would also always hear the call. Though she had chosen to join her fate to Aragorn’s, her choice had not changed what was elven in her save for her life span and her eventual passing to wherever the souls of Men resided. She would always be Peredhil and therefore yearn for the home of her people. But she would never be able to assuage that yearning.
The uttermost west was now forbidden to her. Only her Half-elven blood would spare her the slow descent into insanity. But it would not be able to stave off the constant longing for the white shores of Valinor. Hers was one of the greatest sacrifices in this age of the world.
Recognizing the melancholic turn his musings had taken, Elrohir tried to brush them aside.
Just then, the sentry captain hailed him from above where he was perched on an overhanging tree limb. Elrohir looked up in time to espy a fair-haired Elf astride his horse approaching him at a gallop. Behind him, a Dwarf hung on for dear life, the movement of his lips telling Elrohir he was either begging Legolas to slow down or muttering imprecations.
Unmindful of the watching Elves hidden among the trees and brushes, Legolas dismounted even before his horse came to a complete stop leaving Gimli to grab at the beast’s mane to keep himself from unceremoniously toppling off. The prince pulled Elrohir from his mount into his arms.
They embraced tightly, Legolas murmuring, “I have missed you so, my Elf-knight.”
Elrohir smiled and returned the kiss Legolas hungrily pressed upon him. It seemed he was not the only one who’d borne a lover’s impatient wait.
He heard Gimli loudly clear his throat followed by several sharp gasps and muffled oaths from behind. Legolas broke their kiss but did not release him from his embrace. Instead he glared at the sentries emerging from the forest. Their eyes and gapes betrayed varying degrees of surprise and dismay save for the captain who apparently had suspected something was afoot judging from his muted reaction.
The proverbial cat was out of the figurative bag. Though they did not wear their binding rings in public, it was clear as day. There could be no explaining away the loving fervor with which they had greeted each other. No unseeing the unmistakable light of espoused souls in their eyes. No denying that Mirkwood’s prince had given his heart and forged a bond outside of his father’s realm.
The news would reach the kingdom before they did. The Elf construed and sometimes denigrated as a royal paramour was in truth a prince of Mirkwood by wedlock. Legolas’ true mate in this world and beyond.
The captain laid a stern gaze on the sentries as he stepped forward to bid Legolas welcome.
“School your faces,” he scolded them. “It is not meet to impose your sour countenances on His Highness.” After a heartbeat, he dipped his head respectfully to Elrohir and added, “Their Highnesses.”
Peredhil - Half-elven
meet - proper (archaic)
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