Mirkwood: The Paths We Take



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Thanks to DA for betareading

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"There's only now, there's only here. Give in to love or live in fear. No other path, no other way. No day but today."

Jonathan Larsen

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Thranduil’s palace, Third Age, year 2610, two days after the attack

Elrohir opened his eyes and felt the urgent need to close them again. So much light! Where did it come from? Blinking and frowning, he tried to adjust to the luminosity to no avail. He decided to seek shelter in the darkness and closed his eyes. Night was much more conciliatory.

It was then that he became cognizant of the irksome hammering of blood against his temples and the roaring headache that would drive him to the brink of madness if it did not cease soon. For some obscure cause, his whole body ached but it was of meagre importance in comparison to the burgeoning pain in his skull.

Wincing, he wished he could sink deeper into the comfortable, yielding mattress and tried to remember how much wine he had ingested to induce a headache of such magnitude. It must have been an epic feast but he found himself unable to recollect naught. Pain seemed to stab through his brain and a helpless groan escaped his lips.

As someone seized his hand, he realized that he did not possess the strength to feel startled. It was unquestionably a bad morning but it suddenly worsened as that someone spoke. "Elrohir?"

The sound of the Elf’s voice seemed to reverberate in his ears and sent his world swirling. He wished he had the courage to ask his visitor to hold his tongue and leave him be. But since he did not open his mouth to chase the Elf away, the other implored to him over again to his dismay. "Elrohir?"

Was it his name that was being called? He could not remember...did not want to, rather. It had to be a misunderstanding and when the intruder realized it, he would leave him to his rest. There was nothing he wished for more than to sleep until the end of Arda and alone, thank you very much.

"Elrohir?"

Truth dawned on him at the same time as annoyance. He recognized Elladan's voice. Couldn’t his twin see that he did not feel like responding and instead sought quietude and rest? He let out a low-toned snarl and hoped that his brother would get his meaning and let him be.

"Elrohir?"

His brother was hopeless. Why was he repeating his name time and again? Yes, he was there. Yes, that was him. And *no*, he had no desire to rouse. Better...he simply refused to. He opened his mouth to give voice to his refusal but found out that his tongue was stuck to his palate.

"Do you hear me?"

Oh, yes, he heard him...way too much for his own liking. His brother had always been the loquacious one.

"Muindoren, open your eyes. Please…"

Elrohir sighed inwardly. He had always asserted that Elladan was the most obstinate of them and his hunch was just proven truthful. Knowing his twin as he did, he was well aware that he had no other choice but to cooperate at some point if he wanted to attain some measure of peace.

It was this knowledge that pushed him to open his eyes and he cringed under the flow of bleary images that assaulted his brain. It took him several long, painful seconds to realize that he was staring at his twin.

He tried to smile in hard-won victory but only managed a sour grimace as a new wave of pain flooded his head. A cold wet cup pressed against his lips as a hand supported his head forward and he groaned once more.

"Drink, brother." Elladan's thumb caressed his temple gently as though wishing to relieve the pain.

Elrohir opened his mouth to drink and relished in the ecstatic coolness of the water. It dripped the length of his chin and throat but before he had time to raise a hand, Elladan had wiped the liquid away with a soft tissue. He briefly wondered at his brother's worried looks but had no time to ponder those thoughts further as weariness claimed him once again and he drifted into a dreamless slumber.

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Thranduil’s palace, Third Age, year 2610, three days later

When Elrohir regained consciousness again, he found out that, while his headache still made him miserable, it had abated to the point of being endurable. He felt better and, as he glanced anxiously at his surroundings, he was relieved to ascertain that they had ceased their savage jig.

Definitely better, he nodded to himself.

He stared at the fresco on the ceilings, the frown that creased his features lending him a grim air. It was a glorious representation of the coming of the Sindar to the Greenwood after they had been driven away by the plundering of Great Doriath. The colors were soft and appeasing, chosen with the care of peaceful concordance. It was a most remarkable painting, which Elrohir was sure he had never beheld before.

He considered this fact for a moment and realized that he could not decipher where he was and how he came to be there. Bewildered at his cluelessness and experiencing a slow rise of apprehension, he scanned his surroundings hastily. The room was small and bare, its walls an immaculate white. Candles burned low on the small table nigh to his bed and their eerie light turned the deep darkness into a comfortable duskiness. Carelessly sprawled on the couch on the opposite side of the room was his twin, sound asleep, his eyes glazed in reverie.

Elrohir slowly sat up on his bed, mindful of his throbbing head as he leaned on his elbow to support the weight of his body. But the sudden motion still sent scorching needles through his brain and he gripped the sheets to keep himself from crying out in pain as his headache bloomed in full. Head bowed, he breathed in deeply to steady the trembling of his weakened limbs before he dared to do so much as look at his beloved brother.

Concern for his twin’s welfare assaulted him as he noticed how exhausted Elladan appeared. Fatigue must have claimed him of a sudden for a book lay on his lap and his right hand rested on the pages. Tale-telling dark circles marred his pale complexion and his sleep-tousled locks looked in dire need of tending.

Elrohir hesitated briefly on rousing Elladan from his much needed rest but his need for his twin proved stronger than his concerns. He leaned over slightly and called his brother. "Elladan."

He brought his hand to his throat in surprise as his voice came out as a raspy whisper. His eyes narrowed in surprise and he massaged his neck. Stubbornly, he repeated, "Elladan!"

This time, his voice resounded clearly through the room, stronger than intended. The elder twin startled out of his sleep before straightening abruptly, confusion visible in his gray eyes. When Elladan realized that his twin was awake, he stood, oblivious of the heavy volume that tumbled at his feet, and hurried to his brother’s side.

"Muindoren, are you well? You should not sit up so soon." Elrohir looked at his brother as though he had gone mad. He felt wonderful...save perhaps for his throbbing head. But the relief he saw in Elladan's eyes made him pause. His twin had always been overprotective but he was no nagging mother hen. Puzzled, he decided that directness was for the best. "I am well. What happened?"

Elladan's features crumpled with remembered anguish. He seized Elrohir's right hand and brought it to his face, pressing his palm against his cheek in despaired contact. "You spent the whole week in a deep, unnatural sleep. You awoke briefly but you never seemed to be aware of your surroundings. Not once did you recognize me." A muted sob made his lips tremble. "The healers told me that you showed signs of coming back to your senses today. Blessed be Loríen who released you from the path of dreams."

The younger twin fell into deep silence, his thoughts spinning in his mind. He tried to push himself to remember what had led to his sleeping so long, ignoring his brother's attempts at settling a pillow behind his neck. But as much as he tried, there was only darkness where the memories should have been.

"I do not remember, Elladan." His brother's hand stilled on the cushion as Elrohir's whispered admission dawned on him.

Elladan read the growing panic in his brother's disoriented gaze and could not prevent his own fear from showing. "What do you mean, you do not remember?"

"I mean what happened!" Elrohir snapped, angry at himself for this sudden outburst but riled with his own inability to recollect the events of the past days. "I did not lose consciousness at the hazard of a corridor!"

The elder twin frowned in dismay, concern drawing deep lines in his usually smooth face. "You do not remember at all?" He cocked his head, mildly hoping for his brother to jest.

"If I tell you so." Elrohir sighed and passed his hand though his unbraided mane, tucking an unruly strand behind his ear before massaging his scalp. It was Elladan's turn to sigh. There was no deceit in Elrohir's voice and guilt flared in his heart. He should have sent a messenger to the Vale but he had not dared frighten their father for naught since the healers had assured him that his brother would be well.

Loath to feed the light of worry in his twin's eyes, Elladan opted for a carefree smile and made himself comfortable on the bed. "Blessed Elbereth! This is not the kind of things I will easily forget even though I wish it so. In truth, it will make nightmares out of my dreams for many nights. You do not remember our doomed visit to the Spider's lair?"

Elladan's last words made him pause. The Spider's lair... Elrohir closed his eyes and sought the fleeting memory that had flashed in front of his eyes. He felt so close to remembering that it was frustrating. Then, it came again...a brief image, a strident scream. His eyes snapped open and he bit his cheek as a whirl of memories assaulted him. Arachnids...battle...the Prince!

He faced his brother's scrutiny with deep relief. "What happened? I remember taking Legolas in my arms but then...nothing," he admitted with a sigh. Elladan sent a wordless prayer of gratitude to the Powers of Arda as he cupped his brother's face in a tender caress. Elrohir remembered what he had witnessed; it was now up to him to fill in the gaps. He smiled as his twin covered his hand with his own. "Before dying, the Queen Spider decided to avenge herself, muindoren. The kiss of her dart sent you in deep, dreamless slumber." He paused and grasped his brother’s chin to make sure he marked his words. "Never again turn your back on an enemy, Elrohir."

He was too close to ignore Elrohir's shudder of eagerness. "Dying? You mean… I defeated her?"

By Manwë...There was definitely a tinge of childish satisfaction in his brother's voice. But glad as he was to find his brother whole and well in the end, Elladan did not find it in himself to reprimand him more. "Aye." His smile turned mischievous and he whispered as if in confidence, "I cannot help but wonder who is the most unpredictable of us, Elrohir. People say I am but they have for sure never witnessed what you are capable of."

Recognizing an impending verbal joust, Elrohir leaned against the comfort of his pillows and crossed his arms on his chest in a sarcastic display, refusing to give in under the pretext of his being sick. "Of course I am the most unpredictable, Elladan," he admitted with false honesty. He bit back a fit of pained laughter as he saw his brother's unconvinced expression and he added, "Everyone knows that when there is trouble, you will be the first to charge at it."

Elrohir burst into boisterous laughter that sent his world spinning. Elladan raised his eyes to the ceiling in a mock imploration to the Valar and shook a falsely threatening finger in his twin's direction. "I am not the one abed, muindoren."

The two brothers stared at each other in silence, their gray eyes challenging. But Elrohir was the first to avert his gaze, acknowledging that he would lose this battle of volitions that day. Deeming it wiser to divert the course of the conversation, he voiced the first thought that crossed his mind and regretted it immediately when his twin's features became smug. "How is the Prince?"

"Your little crush?" Elladan felt immensely proud of himself when his brother blushed. "He is as pretty as the last time you saw him but the battle did not leave him unscathed. His right arm is broken." He smiled then with that suave air of his which tended to infuriate Elrohir. "Do you know he came every day to inquire about your well-being?"

Elrohir did his best not to look overly interested. Trying to sound humble and detached, he refused to hope and instead vouched for the most likely reason. "Well, I took his place as recipient of the Queen’s wrath. He is only demonstrating a gracious temperament."

But Elladan would have none of it. Bantering, he swept away his twin's arguments with a light gesture of his hand. "Such reserve does not suit you, Elrohir. You are a true hero in Mirkwood now and..."

He never had the chance to finish as a pillow landed on his face, prompting him to stop. "I swear to you that I shall get you for this, brother," Elrohir threatened before leaning in fatigue against his pillows.

But instead of seeming devastated at the announcement of brotherly revenge, Elladan made a face that showed clearly what he thought of it before throwing the pillow back at him. Twining his hands together, he stretched like a lazy feline and snuggled against his brother."As soon as they realized that their Queen had fallen, the remainder of the Spiders fled the nest, leaving some of us to clean their foulness while others took you, your Prince, and the rest of the wounded back to the Palace."

"He is not my Prince."

The younger twin’s voice betrayed his annoyance as much as the glare he directed at his brother. But Elladan chose to dismiss it blatantly. His face half buried in the quilted coverlet, he murmured in a yawn, "It is a detail, vanimaer...just a detail."

Before Elrohir had time to threaten his twin with the torments of Mordor, someone knocked twice and he had to satisfy himself with glowering at his brother’s back as Elladan rose to his feet to welcome the visitor.

As his brother opened the door and welcomed the visitor with the ease of an old acquaintance, Elrohir spared a glance at the room entryway and grimaced at the sight of the golden-haired archer they had been so thoughtlessly discussing. Smiling feebly, the Elf Knight nodded in greeting at the Prince’s casual entrance. A gracious smile was directed at him and Legolas exclaimed with deep satisfaction, "At last, he has awoken! Your ordeal distressed us greatly, Lord Elrohir…your brother none the least."

Entranced by this new kind regard, Elrohir could only fall anew under the spell of the fair Elf’s warm words. The enchantment was dashed abruptly as the deep blue gaze he craved so much turned toward Elladan. "How does he fare?"

The question was enough for him to dispel the remnants of his awestruck stillness for, as any Elf of great temperament, the younger son of Elrond had little love for those rare moments when people acted as though he was made of the same invisible garments as a forest spirit. "I am quite well, Prince Legolas. I thank you for the concern you show me." He took care not to betray his mild annoyance. His reward was another luminous smile before Legolas turned to Elladan once more.

"I would ask a boon of you, Lord Elladan, if I may be so bold."

Elladan reacted to this with the worldliness that was expected of him but his brother could tell how intrigued he was by the Sinda’s request. "Of course, Prince Legolas. If it is in my power to do so, I would be honoured to be of help."

The golden Elf’s face suffused slightly, testament of the predicament he was experiencing, but his flush only enhanced his comeliness in Elrohir’s eyes. "I would like to converse for some moment with your brother...alone."

At these words, the Elf Knight’s chest constricted with ebullient panic. For weeks and months, he had indulged in the fantasy of a private meeting with Legolas far from the crowds that usually surrounded such an event. But as he watched his brother nod his assent and leave, he realized that it was a speech he was unprepared for and wished he could bury himself beneath the silk coverlet and feign unconsciousness like a craven.

What would he say to this son of the Woods? He could not speak his admiration and his infatuation anymore than he could indulge in small talk. He had so many things he wished to say but words seemed to fail him. His famed honeyed tongue had fled him and never had he felt as close to a swooning, love-struck Elfling approaching his first love.

It suddenly occurred to him that silence had arisen between his regal visitor and him, awkward and heavy with tension. He glanced at the Prince, who had approached the couch. In the half-darkness, he could make out the flaxen Elf's well defined features: the noble edge of his jaw, the wilful chin, and the silk-like cascade of his glorious hair. Once more, his beauty stole Elrohir’s breath away. Little did he know that his indecision was mirrored in the Prince’s hesitation.

They stood a few feet apart from each other, but never had Legolas felt so removed from anybody. He was aware that the proper thing would be to thank the son of Elrond for the courage of his acts. The blond Sinda lowered his eyes and lost himself in the sight of his bound arm. Without this Elf’s bravery, the injuries he had sustained would have been more grievous.

The words were simple enough but he could not bring himself to utter them.

When he had woken from his shock induced slumber and had learned of the younger brethren’s deeds, he had first been surprised then angered…truly and deeply angered at an Elf who did not know him and thought his life more important than his own by endangering himself to save the Prince. He was angry at the thoughtless act that alienated his claim to righteous indifference.

Of all the Elves present, why had it been Elrohir that had had to save him from death’s clutches? He almost wished it had not come to pass.

Almost...

It was so simple and yet, so complicated. He was torn between what he wished and what he should wish for...between the past and the future, the easiness of habit and the uncertainty of a new path. He had planned too many possibilities, thought too much of this meeting, and it had left him exhausted. He was standing at a crossroad, hesitant and afraid and wishing that this scion of Eärendil was still deeply asleep. As he dismissed the idea as being unworthy of him, he nonetheless knew it to be true.

Gathering his courage, he spoke. "I would like to thank you for your help, Lord Elrohir. People told me that, without your courage, I would be abiding in the Halls of Mandos…"

As he spoke, he realized his voice sounded alien, so unlike his own. He sounded contemptuous and ungrateful, so he stopped abruptly. He glanced to see how far he had offended his raven saviour, knowing from tale-telling tongues how feisty and prone to umbrage the two sons of Elrond were. Elrohir’s face was blank but his shadowed gray eyes showed how hurt he was.

Despairing over this unseemliness of his, Legolas sighed and covered his mouth with his hand. "Elbereth, what is wrong with me," he spat before turning toward the bedded twin. He took a step in Elrohir’s direction as he elucidated with his fist on his chest to emphasize his honesty. "I am sorry if my words did not convey my feelings of gratitude for you. I guess indebtedness has never been a feeling I have known how to deal with. Will you forgive me?"

Elrohir looked at the Prince, bewildered by the unexpected change in the Sinda. Legolas’ tone had discouraged him more than they had offended and this sudden reversal of character left him stunned. They stared at each other for several seconds as the Prince awaited his decision of forgiveness or enmity and once more, the Elf Knight sensed the duality of Legolas’ nature.

It was as though a piece of sky had entered his soul and fed his desperate hopes. While his words warned him away, his eyes were like a silent petition for understanding and acceptance. Elrohir instinctively knew that Legolas hid several other things behind the mask of indifference that he never let go.

But he had seen beyond the facade, seen the fire behind the veil and had burnt himself with its flame. He came to realize that the more he worked to learn, the less he knew the Prince and had discovered that what he thought true was wrong. His golden Sinda was a mystery that he would unravel one day. He only needed time and of this he had plenty.

Feeling steadier in this new certainty, Elrohir reached out tentatively for the Prince. "There is naught to forgive, my Prince, and there is no debt to be reckoned." A soft sigh was the only sign of the archer’s relief and the younger twin smiled as he heard it. "Sit and tell me," Elrohir gestured Legolas into the armchair. "How is your arm?"

"It is broken at the level of the shoulder, but it is not irreparable. Yet, it will be about two or three weeks before I would be able to wield my bow and resume leading my patrol."

Feeling the palpable change in the younger Elf’s voice - softer and less distant - Elrohir followed his attempt at conversation on the neutral ground that was military matters. "Who will lead the patrols, then?"

Much more comfortable with that discussion than with any other, the blond Elf relaxed slightly in his seat before answering. His voice was quiet, making sure it betrayed none of the disappointment and annoyance he was feeling. "My brother Sailacel… Or, I suppose so. My King Father has not yet made his decision known to me."

Time passed by quickly as they spoke to each other for the first time since they met, each feeling more relaxed in the other’s presence with every minute that went by. Elrohir would remember this moment for a long time after it came to an end, a memory to be cherished and stored for future dream and contemplation. Too soon for his taste were they interrupted as a knock on the door sounded, which in all likelihood was an announcement of Elladan’s return.

Legolas smiled and stood up. "I surmise that it is time to take my leave. I fear I have bothered you for too long. I just hope that you will harbour no grudge against me for tiring you so, Elrohir."

"You did no such thing, Legolas," the Elf Knight reassured him truthfully. "I was most happy to speak with you."

Elrohir watched his companion depart impassively, which belied his furiously beating heart. As the Prince reached for the doorknob, he called out, "Legolas?"

"Aye?"

"I would have your friendship if you would have mine. I..." His sudden resolution waning, he stammered, "I-I really enjoyed your company today." He watched anxiously as the archer seemed to hesitate with his hand still on the doorknob. Legolas glanced at him, an indecipherable look in his eyes and it seemed to Elrohir that the world had suddenly become dark and hopeless. But what he feared never came to pass.

"And I enjoyed your company, Elrohir. I would like us to be friends." With those words and a last worried smile, the younger Prince of Mirkwood left the room, leaving a bemused Elf Knight to his gentle twin’s care.

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