Brother Mine: Farewell
Didst call for Night: 'tis falling now: for see!
Bearing to some her care, to some her peace,
The evening robes the town with mystery.
While all the herd in vulgar revelries,
'neath Pleasure's lash, that falls implacably,
Now runs to cull remorse from vanities,
My Dolour, give thy hand and come with me
To ways apart. lo, all our years gone by,
In robes outworn, bend from the balconied sky:
from waters deep arise our Joys deceased:
The sun is dying now beneath an arch:
And, like a long shroud trailing from the east,
— Hark, dear! — Night softly starts her shadowy march.
This year, summer was unusually hot; the heat overwhelming as it slowed life and striked with its burning fingers those who had been brave enough to challenge the natural inferno. The earth was burnt and the trees were thirsty; their dry and yellowed leaves providing little cover to the weary animals. The level of the water of the Anduin was lower than any was able to remember; the white and polished smooth stones apparent from the bank.
The night was well advanced. The sun had disappeared some hours ago and, with the coming of Ithil, the landscape had changed. If during the day, drought was silencing the vale, at night, life was reawakened; Elves and animals benefiting from the light breeze gracing the air.
But, this night, the Elves were sleeping, leaving the place to the songs of nature and the memories of the past. The whole vale was sound asleep, save for the lonely figure in the bedroom. No candle lit the room but Ithil's light seeped into the room through the large open windows, barely restrained by the silk sheer curtains. It gave the room the aspect of a sweet cocoon as the awake Elf seemed to rock within the embrace of his invisible arms.
The silvery light enhanced the contrast between the Elf's alabaster skin and the long dark hair that framed his well drawn face. Angular cheekbones enhanced the noble and delicate line of his nose. His pale skin seemed to be opalescent, glowing in the semi darkness, and his usually gray eyes looked like two shadowed oceans.
Nothing moved. The sheer curtain rose slightly, according to the will of the flickering breeze. Oblivious to the world, the Firstborn was sitting on the edge of the large bed; his body tense and still; his gaze fixed on a distant point in the night sky, on the shining promise of Eärendil.
People used to say that while Eärendil was shining upon Arda, there was still hope to cling to. But the lonely ebony-haired Elf was far from agreeing with those popular beliefs. Because, in that clear night where no cloud could be seen, where Eärendhil was brighter than ever, hope had deserted his heart, leaving it to the mournful melancholy of his tortured mind.
Some days were full of joy for some people and full of sadness for others. And tonight, while the whole vale was sleeping, waiting with cheerful impatience for the morrow's joyous ceremony, he was sitting in silence in his room; his sorrowful heart on the verge of breaking. The previous day had been one of the longest in his long life, as he pretended to share the common eagerness and claimed to be someone he was not. That day had been torture and held nothing that resembled hope and expectation.
Everything was ready. Tables were set, flowers were gathered, finest robes had been designed for the event, and the brightest gems were ready to sparkle in the candlelight. The great hall had been prepared and decorated. The best minstrels of the Vale had been bidden to play during the feast that would follow the ceremony. Old and savory wine had been decanted from oaken barrels where they had slept for years, if not centuries, into delicately cut crystal carafes. Cooks had worked for more than a week to prepare a great banquet, where exotic plates would blend with traditional dishes. The whole week had been spent in joyous excitation and impatience for the feast that was to come. Everyone was happy.
Everyone was happy but he. He dreaded nothing more than that expected ceremony. Because tomorrow his lover would take his vows and it was not to him that he would give his promise of eternal love.
It was not to him... A world of sorrow and pain would be heard if those words were to be uttered. It was not to him... And his heart cried invisible tears of suffering.
He knew that he was not the only one who suffered, that his lover was also feeling that emotion of helplessness and finality. But strangely, it did not comfort him.
Since the beginning, they had known that day would come and, with it, the end of their love. They had been well aware that the bond they shared was not meant to last. It had not even been meant to exist. They had known it. Yet, it still hurt. He had not believed it would hurt so much. They had known of the nearing of that fateful day and had contemplated with disdain and carelessness at first, then with more and more despair and denial.
They had known since the first step they had made upon their path that what they shared would only lead them to the pain of separation. But they had never left that path. They had never wanted to. For centuries they had walked upon it, hand in hand, protecting their secret and each other from the others' gazes. But what had lasted for centuries would come to an end on the morrow.
All they had shared through the long years would be extinguished by the mighty and unmerciful tide of duty and honor. The fire of their passion and their secret submerged and drowned under the passing of time and the forgetfulness of memory.
Tomorrow would be the day of the death of his heart.
But for the moment, he would wait for the end of the night and watch the rising of the sun. He would watch cautiously as the shy rays of light would chase the darkness away. He would observe how Ithil's beauty would pale and die when the golden magnificence of Anar would finally emerge. He would look upon the end of the night, which would mean the last breath of their love.
Slowly, someone turned the doorknob and the heavy wooden door opened noiselessly on its hinges. A silent shadow sneaked into the dimness of the room and closed the door behind itself. The Elf on the bed did not move, neither did he give any sign he was aware of the other's presence. For some seconds, time seemed to drag on. Finally, the nocturnal visitor approached the bed without a word. As he walked, shadows and light enveloped his lithe frame, drawing a ballet of shades upon his skin and clothes, enhancing his ghostly appearance.
The ebony-haired Elf sitting on the vast bed did not react when the piece of furniture gently protested the extra weight. He did not avert his gaze from the sky when a strong arm encircled his waist and a firm chest was pressed upon his back. A silky cascade of dark curls mingled with his own when the phantom-like figure rested his chin upon his strong shoulder. But he closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting embrace, sighing as a hot breath lightly caressed the top of his delicate pointed ear. It was barely more than the silken touch of a butterfly's wing but it sent shivers the length of his spine. He had hoped for that moment without daring to admit it. He had feared that he would have to spend that last night alone in the company of stars. But he had come.
He had come.
And joy and sorrow mixed in his heart in an outburst of emotions as he was reminded vividly of what was to happen tomorrow.
Slowly, he turned his head and crossed the other's gaze. For some seconds, they remained still; gray eyes locked into gray eyes; a similar expression upon their equally fair features. An ocean of thought was exchanged in that short moment without a word uttered.
Words had never been needed between them. It had always been like that. Words had always been redundant and useless.
They stared at each other; their eyes reflecting the same awe, love and distress. At the same time, they closed their eyes and let the soothing obscurity rebuff the worries of the next day. They hugged tight, clinging to each other in a desperate embrace, not wanting to let the night die and the day begin.
Because, on the morrow, Elrohir Peredhel, youngest son of the Lord of Imladris, would marry the youngest daughter of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. As it had been agreed upon millennia ago between their fathers, even before the children of them were born. Tomorrow, they would bind themselves to each other as a symbol of the eternal alliance between their two realms. And, tomorrow, Elladan would lose everything he held dear: his brother, his friend, his lover, and himself.
It was so difficult to accept that marriage, to accept the separation from each other. They had shared so much through the passing of time. So much and yet, so little. Love and acceptance. Stain and purity. Knowledge and innocence.
Of course, it was wrong. Of course, it was impossible. Of course, they should have known better than to involve each other in such a story. They should have stopped that madness before it was too late, nipping it in the bud. They had endangered themselves, and not only their honor but also that of their family and of their realm. Incest was synonymous with exile and hopelessness.
But how could they have stopped it when they had not known when it had begun? Who could say when the brotherly gazes had become the butterfly glances of lovers? Who could say when everything had changed irremediably?
As long as they could remember, no one else had ever been in their thoughts. They were twins, after all, and they had always been closer than other brothers. They had shared everything: their mother's womb, their first words which were directed to each other, their first laughter, their first tears, their first fears. They were twins, two halves of a same soul. Two beings incomplete when separated.
But one day, everything had changed. One day, they had looked at each other with a glint that had not existed before. And they had averted their gazes, afraid of themselves and of their awakening feelings. They had not spoken of it because words were useless between them. Each of them had known perfectly the other's feelings. But they had kept behaving as if nothing had changed. As if they were still the same...
But they were not. After that stare, each could remember nights spent alone in their own bedrooms, turning and turning again in their vast beds. Too vast and too empty, when their minds were filled with unbidden fantasies. Both could remember the feeling of shame that came along waking in sheets soiled by the evidence of their inner turmoil. Neither of them had really understood what had been happening to them. They were twins, brothers and friends. They had not understood the frightening strength of their feelings, ashamed of taking so much pleasure in the mere presence of the other. Ashamed of the others' reactions if they were to know. Afraid of themselves.
Because they were not meant for each other.
They had known of the alliance which would bind together the two Elven realms through the expected marriage of the youngest children since they had been of age to understand. It had been common knowledge that they had both accepted without any rebellion. It was their father's wish and, since he had given his word, it was a matter of honor. And honor was not to be taken lightly.
For years, they had claimed nothing had changed and had learnt to hide their feelings. They, who were so close of each other, had come to dread the moment they were left alone with their unbidden desire, the slightest touch that would awaken new worlds of sensations.
They were brothers and, even if they were twins, it was unknown. They had not wanted to cross the thin line still separating them: it would have meant the collapse of their world. Everything had been so simple and so easy before. Everything had become so blurred and uncertain after. It had seemed they were walking on a rope stretched between the two edges of a chasm and they were balancing on the brink of madness.
Madness... Love and hate had been melting in their blood. Hate for those unexpected feelings. Strange feelings. Hate. Love. Their world was crumbling, spinning in a waltz of contradictory sensations. They had felt it and that simple fact had frightened them to their very core.
They had tried to stop it. They had retreated into themselves; both of them trying to avoid the other. Failing miserably as they needed each other to live. They had never been separated and they had been unable to sever the ties that bound them.
People had noticed their strange behavior but had interpreted them it to the difficulties of their age. To that strange period of life when Elflings opened their minds to the world, hesitant and groping; halfway to adulthood but still attached to their childhood.
If they had known...
If they had known their internal struggles. If they had known their despairs when they would awake after dreams full of their embraces; the name of the other dying upon their lips, sweat running the length of their spines; their flesh aching because of their vivid fantasies. If they had known how much they had despised themselves.
If they had known...
But people had only seen what they had wanted to see. And they had not noticed their silent cries and invisible tears.
Was it so wrong to love his brother and yet, naught had looked purer and more beautiful.
But one night, they had not fought against their feelings. One night, the need of comfort had been stronger. It had been one night as this one, when the beauty of the stars interspersed in the darkened sky had shone with a purity that had not reflected the sadness of their hearts. Their mother had taken a ship for Valinor, leaving them no hope of return. It had been a night when Ithil's silver light had fallen upon their two distressed hearts, feeling the weight of abandonment. That night, under his benevolent gaze, they had sought in themselves the courage to go on and keep on living. They had clung to each other to find strength and love. And they had stopped denying their hearts' wishes. It would have been too difficult to refuse when they needed it so much.
Under the sparkling of stars, they had discovered the pleasure of loving each other, the calming of their minds, the drowning in an ocean of peace. Nothing had ever been more right as though their souls had finally found the rest they had been seeking.
But dawn had come too soon, leaving them with the guilt of their feelings. Neither of them had really regretted what had happened that night. It had been too overwhelming, too good to find some peace again. But the worse had been to look at each other in the bright light of the sun. Under the cover of the night, it had been easy to conceal their love. In the daylight, everything had been different as they could not claim to feel anything else than brotherly affection.
They had not spoken of that night. Neither had they spoken of a possible future. They had known too well that they had no future together as lovers. They had known that one day, Elrohir would have to bind himself to Thranduil's daughter. Theirs remained an unspoken agreement: they had never discussed it. They never confessed their feelings to each other. It would have been useless. Theirs had remained a shadowy love, never displayed in daylight but always in the blessing of Ithil. They were children of the night and their love was not different. For years, they had kept their nocturnal habits, finding only joy and peace in the mere presence of the other. For the time of the night, they would love each other. They would let the constant reminder of their difference slip away. They would make love desperately or cheerfully according to their moods but it would always end in an explosion of sensation and passion when their souls united and became one as if it should have never been otherwise.
But tonight, that would end forever. What was not supposed to be would soon cease to exist. They would let fate separate them. What could they have done against it? They would sacrifice their love for the sake of their realm. Imladris needed that alliance to consolidate the relationships with Mirkwood. Tonight would be the last time their union was blessed by Ithil's light. Tonight would be the last time they would belong to each other. Tomorrow, all would change and Elrohir would bind himself to one he would have to learn to love and cherish. For them, there was no hope anymore. Elven bindings were meant to last forever.
Suddenly, the sad song of cicadas ended, breaking the cadence rocking the twins' still embrace. Silence exploded in the night, awakening them to reality, pulling them out of their dream state and memories.
Slowly, Elrohir pushed his brother's long ebony hair aside, revealing the pale column of his throat. He kissed languidly the opalescent flesh, caressing with his lips the smooth skin of his brother's neck. The chant of cicadas resumed as if the little animals had understood the meaning of that moment and wished to accompany their last embraces with their magical voices. His eyes closed, breathing deeply his twin's scent: pine and sweet honey. Elrohir trailed his lips the length of his brother jaw, reaching finally the well-drawn lips. Elladan sighed imperceptibly, leaning more in the arms encircling him. He met his brother's lips, desiring nothing more than their soft touch upon his fevered skin.
Their kiss was tender, barely more than two pairs of lips touching in a chaste contact, tasting each other, memorizing the edge of the others. It was like the kiss of two children, like the first kiss of two lovers. Hesitant and pure. Loving and shy. They remained like that a few moments, each of them satisfied to feel the breath of the other.
Elladan made the first move, turning himself toward his brother, and he gazed into the bottomless eyes of his twin. He knew that the darkened orbs were only reflecting his own desire.
Lazily, almost shyly, he stretched a hesitant pale hand and placed two long fingers upon the soft skin of Elrohir's cheek. Fascinated, he watched as his twin closed his eyes, breaking eye contact and leaning in the soft caress. Leisurely, he began to follow the defined lines of his brother's face, tracing with fingers, barely more than brushing against the velvety skin. His fingers traced their path the length of the jaw, then went up to caress a sensitive pointed ear, lingering on its top before moving down. He pushed aside a strand of silky dark hair.
The light contact was sending shivers through Elrohir's body. Having closed his eyes heightened his sensations and the fickle caress of his brother's hand seemed to be one of the most erotic touches he had ever known. His breath quickened and became somewhat ragged as he felt the tip of a finger teasing the tip of his ear before exploring an arched eyebrow. The situation was incredibly sensual; he could feel Elladan's proximity, feel the fascination in his gestures and the arousal between them. He tried to slow his breath, wanting the magic of the moment never to end. The fingers pressed a little bit more against the crest of his nose and he smiled inwardly as he experienced a most inappropriate tickling that he chased away with a furrowing of brow. But when the curious fingers reached his lips and stroke them languorously, he indulged the temptation and kissed their tips.
He heard Elladan's sharp intake of breath that betrayed his brother's surprise. But was it surprise? Or was it simply the awakening of passion? Slowly, careful not to break the alchemy of the moment, he opened his eyes as he parted his lips to take the wandering fingers into his mouth. When he gazed into the bottomless ocean of his brother's eyes, he felt himself sucked into a world of completion and love where nothing existed save themselves. Time was suspended and Elrohir was only aware of that intense gaze upon him which was saying so much to him without even speaking. He wrapped his tongue around one of the fingers and licked it delicately, never leaving his brother's gaze. Under the fire flaring in those huge orbs, he felt himself grow hard; his aching flesh restrained in his leggings.
Elladan watched in awe as his brother began to kiss his fingers, feeling a rush of blood in his loins as the nimble tongue began to play with them. He could not move anymore, could not take his gaze away from the fascinating picture made by his twin. He had often wondered if they were still alike in the building up of passion and love, if his own eyes were hazy and unfocused, if his own hair were framing his flushed face in the same way. He could not fathom how he could be as beautiful and as desirable as the one he shared his nights with. His breath became heavy and burning fire ran through his veins when his brother ceased his ministrations and looked cautiously at him; an unmistakable expression upon his fair features.
Elrohir was looking at him, still and concentrated; need and want clearly written in his eyes. For some seconds, they did not move. They were the perfect image of symmetry, their identical face just inches from each other. They were harmony. They were perfection.
Elrohir moved first, bending his limber body as his breath was caressing his twin's earlobe, awakening delicious chills in Elladan. Words were rare during their nights; they had always preferred the silence and its promises to unneeded babbling. Silence gave to the night another dimension: more sensual, less frightening. Sentences were rare and that simple knowledge gave all their strength to Elrohir's murmured words.
"Have me tonight... Give me something to remember forever..."
Elladan sighed in spite of himself, overwhelmed by a new wave of pain when he heard the sadness and resignation hidden in the depths of his twin's voice. But he cast the awkward feeling aside. There would be other nights to cry and mourn. But there would be no other like this one. Elrohir sensed his brother's distress as he began to nibble the pale column of his neck, leaving butterfly kisses upon the shivering flesh. At the same time, he pressed their chests together, pushing with his weight until they were both lying upon the bed; Elrohir on top of Elladan; their limbs entangled in a passionate embrace.
They kissed again but it was neither gentle nor shy. It was the burning joining of two hungry mouths. Their lips crushed. Their tongues battled together, dancing a lascivious dance, swirling and spinning. They broke apart when the lack of air became too much; the intensity of the kiss leaving them panting and hungry for more. Nothing could be heard save for their harsh breathing.
With the agility given by years and years of habit, they unclothed each other, drinking in the sight revealed by the absence of garments: Marble skin reflecting the silvery light of the night, broad shoulders, slender waists, long and powerful legs that were no less graceful... Their bodies betrayed the pressing need they felt; their cocks standing proud and erected between them.
Elladan refused to act on the desire taking hold of his eager body. He wanted that moment to last forever, to memorize every move, every sound, every moan his beloved twin would make. He wanted to have him writhing in need under him, to have him beg for his release and remember this night forever. The elder twin kissed his sibling deeply but did not linger upon those delicate pink fruits waiting to be tasted. He lay his brother upon his back, ignoring the groan of protest coming from his lips. He undertook then to explore the perfect body, leaving a wet trail of kisses the length of the smooth torso, licking teasingly at a dark nipple while pinching slightly the other, ignoring deliberately the way his brother's body arched in need, ignoring the long-fingered hand twined in his ebony mane. He went down, never ceasing his ministrations, pausing to give more attention to Elrohir's navel before going lower but careful to never brush the weeping erection.
Then, with a mischievous smile as he heard his brother's ragged breathing, he took his straining member in mouth, licking and suckling, wrapping his tongue around the hot column of flesh, bringing Elrohir to the brink of climax before retreating, denying him release. He did not want it to end too quickly. He lightly stroked the narrow hips, restraining them to prevent his wanton brother from bucking into the hot cavern of his mouth.
He raised his eyes to look at his brother, at his eyes darkened by pleasure, at his glistening skin, at his parted lips, at the porcelain teeth biting his bottom lip. He would have liked to preserve that image of his brother writhing in need under his touch, to keep in his mouth the salty and spicy scent of his essence. But, as a louder moan left Elrohir's lips, he was sent back to reality. His own erection ached and he knew he could not last very much longer as each sounds coming from Elrohir sent jolts of pleasure to his swollen groin.
Elrohir had closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the mighty stream of sensation crashing upon his body. But it was the feeling of total completion and belonging that was the most overwhelming. He knew what was to come when a spiced scent of lavender spilled into the room and, unconsciously, he arched himself once more, spreading his legs wider as to give better access to his secret place. A confident digit was placed at his narrowed entrance and he relaxed as his brother's knowing fingers prepared him.
Soon, the fingers left him and were replaced by something larger and hotter, which filled him completely, tearing from him groans of contentment. When Elladan began to thrust into him, he wrapped his arms and legs around his brother's neck and waist, shifting against him, locking their gazes together. Their bodies were dancing together, fitting as none would ever fit, knowing instinctively how to give the other more pleasure. Their pace increased, sending wave after wave of pleasure through them. Neither of them wished to close his eyes, refusing to forsake their last chance, wanting to keep that image forever. This was the end, the last time they would make love with each other, the last time they would be able to touch each other in that way. And that hopeless knowledge conferred on their joining a kind of desperate frenzy, a kind of ecstatic agony.
Orgasm surprised them, sending them over the edge, into a world of beauty and love, where colors were deeper and light was brighter. A feeling of total understanding seized them as their souls were united for the last time. An ancient knowledge spread in their heart, the knowledge that no one would ever love them as they loved each other, that their love was right and unique. They remained still for a long moment, their bodies still joined in a tender embrace, cheek against cheek, long wet strands of dark haired melted together, hands twinned in a soft caress. Neither of them spoke, letting the silence soothe their fears.
They knew that they had lost each other. That they would never have another chance to be together as lovers. They would accept becoming the loving brothers they had never ceased to be in the eyes of the world. They should learn to be Elladan and Elrohir, not only the twin brothers of Imladris. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a new era, bearing new pains and new joys. But in their heart dwelt the comforting knowledge that no one would ever replace them.
And in the black velvety fabric of the sky, Ithil shone brightly.
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