Chapter 4: Remembrance
Naught but a week had passed since the arrival of Mirkwood's King and princes, and yet Elrond's condition had not improved as much as everyone would have desired. The twins and Arwen, however, fared better with Arondil and Legolas to distract them with stories about their siblings and home. Erestor and Glorfindel, and occasionally Lindir, would hold council with Thranduil, who had partially taken it upon himself to oversee the comings and goings of the valley.

The inner light generated by Elrond's fëa had brightened shortly after Thranduil's arrival, but was now waning once again a mere few days later. The whole thing exasperated Glorfindel, who at times found himself unable to remain in the Peredhel's presence for very long at times. The golden-haired elf would often have to excuse himself, after which would inevitably follow an outburst aimed at whichever unfortunate soul crossed his path. The Balrog Slayer of Gondolin knew well what it felt like to lose one so dearly loved, yet he also knew that Elrond possessed the strength to continue living. Glorfindel would rant and rave about the subject, calming after a few moments before and thanking whoever possessed enough patience to listen to him, before returning to Elrond's side.

Such was the case one afternoon nearly five days after the Mirkwood party's arrival. In a fit of frustration, Glorfindel had all but stormed out of Elrond's chambers, leaving Erestor and Arwen behind with the Peredhel. The Elda mumbled incoherent words as he stalked through the corridors, servants and maids deftly avoiding him when they sensed his mood. Glorfindel was frustrated and weary, not to mention that the pain of his own loss was beginning to catch up with him. He needed to be away from Elrond in order to give himself time to think and calm down.

The Elda had passed Elrond's study and was on his way to the gardens when a voice calling his name stopped him. Thranduil stood in the doorway of the study, rich green robes rustling with even the slightest movement. While in Imladris, he had chosen to go without his customary crown of leaves; Thranduil continued to wear the colors and style of Mirkwood, but kept his head bare. Blue eyes of a different shade to Glorfindel's gazed at the Elda with a mix of curiosity and understanding swirling within their depths.

"Is everything well, Glorfindel?" Thranduil asked, taking another step out of the study.

"Nay, all is not well," Glorfindel replied with a shake of his head. He sighed, running a slender hand across his face as if to wipe away his exhaustion. "I am frustrated and concerned, and I don't know what to do about it all."

"Let us go for a walk then, mellon. I can see you've had a rough morning, and I have been inside all day. Whilst I enjoy the beauty of the valley and this manor, the outdoors suit me better."

"Aye, a walk sounds very pleasant." With a small smile, Glorfindel turned and led the way out to the gardens.

In silence, the pair entered one of the numerous pathways threading through the grounds of the Last Homely House. Neither said anything for a time as they allowed the sun to play with their hair and warm their backs, and the warm breeze to tickle their skin and calm their nerves. After a time, their keen elven ears picked up on the sound of singing; rounding a bend in the path, Glorfindel and Thranduil stumbled upon Lindir, who sat upon a stone bench composing.

His silver harp, a gift from his mother's people, rested gratefully in Lindir's hands whilst his fingers plucked the strings. Occasionally Lindir would hum, pluck another note and then scribble something down on a piece of parchment next to him. He was unaware of Glorfindel and Thranduil's approach until they were almost upon him.

"My Lords," the white-haired elf said with a smile and a slight nod of his head.

"Lindir," Glorfindel greeted in return whilst Thranduil nodded. "Out enjoying the day?"

"Aye, my Lord. 'Tis a pleasant day to be out; I couldn't bear to stay indoors a moment longer."

"Aye, 'tis a fine day indeed," Thranduil said, claiming the spot on the bench next to Lindir. Glorfindel settled himself on the grass at their feet, fingers idly picking at the green blades. "What were you composing, Lindir? A new song to sing in court? Or perhaps one only for your lover's ears?"

The minstrel's cheeks turned a warm shade of pink at the suggestion, slender hands absently plucking a few strings of his harp. "I fear I would embarrass Rúmil if I were to compose a song solely for his ears."

"Rúmil of Lórien?" The news surprised Thranduil. He was fond of Lindir but had never known the minstrel had a lover; Thranduil had meant to tease Lindir with his remark, not knowing it was actually true. "How long have you known one another?"

"Since the beginning of this Age, Sire." Lindir smiled at Thranduil's quizzical look. "I have rarely told others about our relationship, though I do not doubt all of Lórien has long known of the match. Haldir can rarely keep such news regarding his youngest brother quiet for long."

Glorfindel snorted, plucking a grass blade from the ground. Placing the tip of the blade between his teeth, he began to absentmindedly chew upon it as he leaned back upon his hands and stretched his legs out before him. "Haldir can rarely keep anything quiet. Though...I do believe there is one secret he has not told anyone, save for his brothers."

"Oh?" Thranduil asked, raising his eyebrows and turning to the Elda. "And, pray tell my dear Glorfindel, how do you know of this secret?"

The Balrog Slayer simply smirked at the question. "Did you not know Lórien's March Warden will say anything when he is dreaming?"

Lindir laughed musically at the statement. "Aye, Rumil has said as much. I have heard him and Orophin remark upon Haldir's nightly conversations, though I am unaware of this secret you speak of, Lord Glorfindel. A secret love perhaps?"

"Ah, Lindir, you are quite perceptive. Yes, it is a secret love, but I am not at liberty to say much else."

"A pity," Thranduil remarked with a smirk. "I would have so dearly loved to tease him with the information should I ever meet him." He smiled when Lindir laughed again; turning to Glorfindel, Thranduil noticed the sadness that swam in the azure eyes, which were fixed upon the minstrel's person. "Glorfindel? What troubles you?"

"'Tis nothing, just old memories." Glorfindel pressed his lips together, not wishing to speak on the matter any longer. But Thranduil would not relent and pursued the matter further.

"Nay, it is not nothing. You've seemed bothered these last few days."

"You should not be worrying about me, Sire. My troubles, compared to Elrond's, are nothing."

"I protest, my Lord," Lindir said, worry beginning to fill his emerald orbs. "Now that King Thranduil has mentioned it, I do sense a sudden sadness lingering about you. And this is not the first time; I remember hearing Erestor remark to the Lady Arwen about your state of well-being a few days before the party from Mirkwood arrived."

"My state of being is fine, Lindir. I am fit and healthy, I am not ill."

"Then it is the state of your heart."

Glorfindel fixed Lindir with a penetrating gaze, one that normally sent his guards cowering away without another word. But the minstrel was more accustomed to dealing with the Elda's moods than the other guards of Imladris; he barely batted an eyelash at the withering gaze directed at him.

"You are far too perceptive," Glorfindel eventually murmured after the pair had stared at one another for some time.

"So you have told me," Lindir replied. "Come now, do not hide from the shadows, my Lord. You should know best that it is better to confront them."

The golden-haired Elda debated on whether he should reveal his heart; he had kept his true feelings a secret from everyone, save Elrond. Glorfindel trusted both Thranduil and Lindir, and found that he could not deny the minstrel's request. "It has been long since I've felt the touch of another," Glorfindel confessed, his voice quiet and his eyes downcast. "Seeing Elrond grieving reminds me of when I too felt the same, though my time of mourning was short. I have not allowed myself to love again since I lost my lover."

"Why is that, meldir?" Thranduil inquired. "Is there no one to your liking? I am sure there are plenty of elves who would love to proclaim that they have a hold over your heart."

"It is not that simple, Thranduil. I cannot let go of the love I once had."

"Ecthelion of the Fountain," Lindir said knowingly.

"Aye, Ecthelion." Glorfindel bowed his head forward, his golden hair partially shielding his face. "Your laugh reminded me of him, Lindir; he used to laugh as you do, his voice sounding like chimes in the clear evening air. I can't ever forget him, my first love, my only lover. How can I? We experienced so much together during the years we saw. I grew up with him by my side; I was able to see him smile every day and listen to him laugh. When he played his flute, I felt like the world had stopped moving in order to listen to him."

"'Twas a deep love," Thranduil murmured. "One that is not easily forgotten...or replaced."

"Which is precisely why I cannot--will not--take another. I love him too deeply. Ecthelion is still dear to me, even now when we are apart. I know not whether or not he has been reborn as I have, nor do I know if and when he will return, but I cannot betray him." Glorfindel sighed, azure eyes misting over with age-old memories. "I hear him sometimes, in my dreams. He calls to me, tells me he loves me and that he is waiting. It feels so real, but when I reach out to touch him, he vanishes."

"We have all lost people we love," Lindir mused. "But the love you hold, my Lord, is greater than any I have ever seen."

"What of you, Lindir?" Thranduil inquired, turning to the young minstrel. "Have you known of love with another as you do now with Rúmil?"

"Not as I do now, no Sire." Lindir smiled faintly, thinking of the silver-haired elf of his heart. "Nay, that love is reserved only between us. But I have felt love's caress before, with another who is now long gone. Do you remember Elendir, Sire?"

"Aye, I remember him." Elendir had been a Sinda, part of Oropher's army during the Last Alliance. The golden-haired, gray-eyed elf had, like Lindir, been a message runner for the Mirkwood camp, until he had been killed during one of the runs. Thranduil suddenly blinked and stared at Lindir as a thought occurred to him. "You and Elendir were lovers?"

"For a short time, aye." Lindir sighed, brushing some hair from his eyes. "It was not like what I feel for Rúmil; ours is a love that was meant to be. We both knew it from the moment we met, though it took us some time to realize what the stirring of our hearts meant. It was different with Elendir; we were drawn together through the mutual danger we shared. It was love, but at the same time it wasn't. I could let go of Elendir when he died instead of attempting to join him. I do not know if I am making much sense, my Lords, but it is enough to say that I cared for Elendir but did not love him in the fashion as I do Rúmil."

"You make perfect sense, Lindir," Glorfindel said. "You loved him, aye, but it was not the deep and true love you feel for the Galadhrim, or what I felt for Ecthelion. You loved Elendir because of the danger that surrounded you both, because of the unknown that was laid before you. But with Rúmil, you love for the sake of loving. Such a love happens for no reason at all; only the Valar know what devices bring certain people together. There's no rhyme or reason to it, no explanation for why it happens. It just does."

"I must say though, Glorfindel," Thranduil mused. "The love you and Ecthelion bore--still bear for your part, at least--was very strong. Yours was a love that was meant to be."

"Perhaps you are right, Thranduil." The golden-haired Elda gave a soft sigh, tilting his head back until he was gazing up at the sky. "Valar, I miss him." Azure eyes closed as he dreamt of days past.

"You will see him again, my Lord," Lindir said kindly. "The Valar would not forsake such a union as the pair of you shared."

"You are quite optimistic about that, Lindir."

The minstrel blushed, idly plucking a few strings of his harp. "Rúmil has often commented on the fact."

"And I dare say he's right!" Thranduil teased with a laugh. "We could all do with a great deal of optimism, especially these days. Such trying days are ahead of us."

"Aye, trying they will be," Glorfindel said with a nod. "But let us look forward to them and to the times that are yet to come. The past is the past, and we can't change it."

"We can't change it, but let us remember the days long gone so that they may brighten whatever darkness lingers in our future."

"Well said, Sire!" Lindir replied, eliciting laughter from all three elves before the minstrel and the King continued on with their conversation as the day passed on in quiet contentment.

Glorfindel sat silently, watching the pair as they conversed about the past and the present. Speaking with them about Ecthelion had awakened the yearning in his heart, a feeling he had tried to suppress throughout the years. He missed his lover, wanted desperately to be reunited with him. But Glorfindel still had a duty to Arda and couldn't leave yet. His own happiness would have to wait a while longer.

The Elda knew exactly how Elrond felt. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved dearly. Glorfindel berated himself for becoming so frustrated with Elrond; he would apologize later, and offer his company to his friend as he always did.

From his seat on the grass, Glorfindel watched Thranduil as the King laughed merrily at something Lindir had said. He hoped Thranduil would be able to keep Elrond alive and teach him how to love again. The Mirkwood King was exactly what the Peredhel needed right now: a kind friend with an open mind, a listening ear and a heart that knew how to love. Glorfindel caught himself hoping Elrond would find love again with the golden-haired King and realized that maybe, just maybe, that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

---

Chapter 5: Heart's Comforting
Whilst his father attended to the duties of Imladris as a temporary substitute for the day, Legolas had spent the morning and early afternoon wandering the grounds of the valley. Since his arrival he had been enchanted with the beauty of Imladris, often spending his time riding through the surrounding woods or walking the banks of the Bruinen. Even the libraries of Elrond were a sight to behold for the young prince, who was never quite content being confined indoors. Thranduil had encouraged his children to keep an open mind about their Noldor kin, but sadly the libraries of Mirkwood scarcely contained any history of the elves in question. Legolas could easily spend hours in the studies, reading about past battles he had never before heard of--had it not been for his adventurous spirit calling him outdoors.

Walking along the Bruinen yet again that afternoon, Legolas marveled at the river and its accompanying waterfalls. He immensely enjoyed the feel of the cool spray against his face, and liked to watch the fish swimming through the crystal clear waters. The prince had long removed his boots and was now walking at the very edge of the river, his elven surefootedness keeping him from slipping into the rushing waters. Sighing in contentment, Legolas remembered a time when Mirkwood had been as beautiful as the valley, not as haunted and dark as it had become only recently.

A playful splash sounded nearby, catching the prince's attention. Turning in the direction of the noise, his breath caught at the sight of the eldest son of Elrond swimming elegantly through the waters. Elladan's hair, wet from the water, clung to his neck, shoulders and back; drops of the crystal liquid glistened on his skin, reflecting the sunlight in a dazzling array. He was dressed only in his leggings, his tunic and boots having been discarded in a careless pile on the bank. The Peredhel didn't seem to notice Legolas' presence or the prince's fascinated stare as he cut through the water for a few moments, before flipping over to float upon his back.

Legolas found that he couldn't take his eyes off of the stunning dark beauty before him. Without realizing it, he took a step forward as if to move closer to the eldest twin; he wasn't aware of the sudden drop in depth however until he found himself completely submerged underwater. He struggled to get his feet under him, to stand and break the water's surface, but the muddy bottom caused him to slip under again.

Hands grasped Legolas firmly under the arms, pulling him out of the watery depths. Legolas gasped, coughing almost convulsively as he expelled water and drew in air. He was vaguely aware of a pair of arms holding him against a warm body whilst the coughing fit passed.

"I see no one has yet warned you of the sudden step from bank to river, my dear prince," a voice said, mirth and concern mingling in the tone.

Legolas raised his head, giving Elladan an embarrassed smile. "Nay, unfortunately not," he replied, brushing away some golden locks that clung to his cheeks. "Thank you for helping me lest I unceremoniously drown."

"Now I couldn't just let you drown." Elladan returned the smile before helping Legolas out of the cold waters, drops falling from their hair and clothes onto the grass. "Come, the sun is high and feels pleasant to the skin. We can talk whilst we lie on the grass and dry off." He smiled again when Legolas nodded and wrung the water from his clothes; Elladan paused momentarily to collect his tunic and boots before moving over to an open, sun warmed spot.

Elladan lay back upon the soft grass, stretching in a feline manner as the sun began to warm his skin. His eyes were closed, but he could hear Legolas shuffling about quietly beside him, the sound of wet clothing plopping softly on the ground before the prince also stretched out upon the grass.

"You seem much improved these last few days," the prince remarked, turning his head until his eyes captured Elladan's stormy gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem...more content than when we first met."

Elladan sighed, his expression sobering a touch as he turned to stare at the sky overhead. "I still miss my mother, and I worry for my father. Things will never be the same and I don't expect them to. But I can't help feeling this emptiness inside me. I know Elrohir feels the same, as does Arwen. We try to be cheerful, for Ada's sake. It's difficult sometimes, I admit, but we try."

Hearing the lost tone in Elladan's voice, Legolas rolled onto his side and reached for the Peredhel's hand, entwining their fingers. "You aren't alone, meldir. You have a friend in me; should you need an ear to listen, I am here."

"Thank you, Legolas. It means a great deal to me." Elladan gave the prince a reassuring smile, squeezing the slender fingers in his hands gently. They lay silently for a while, attempting to enjoy the day. Finally, after much debating with himself, Elladan voiced the question that had been nagging at him. "Legolas? What was your mother like?"

The question surprised him as it was quite unexpected. Legolas lifted his head for a moment to gaze once again into Elladan's eyes, then laid the golden crown back onto the grass bed beneath him before replying. "She was a Sindarin, beautiful with silver hair and green eyes. My brother Celeron and sister Nimriel look the most like her. Arondil and I take after our father in looks." The golden-haired prince smiled faintly at the memories. "She used to sing my brothers and I to sleep each night, whether we were elflings hiding behind her skirts or warriors returned from a skirmish. My mother had a beautiful voice: it's what I remember the most about her."

"What was her name?"

"Erinien."

"'Forest maiden.' Appropriate for the bride of King Thranduil." Elladan tried to imagine what Legolas' mother had looked like, and found himself thinking of his own mother. The prince's description of the late wife of Thranduil sounded much like Elladan's mother. "How did she..."

"Die?" Legolas' eyes softened as he recalled memories of days long past. "My mother was weak after giving birth to my sister. No more than ten years had passed when she told my father that she did not think her fëa would remain within her body much longer. My father was devastated by the news, but he is strong. He always greeted my mother with a smile upon his face during her remaining days.
"She died peacefully in her sleep, and we were all there to bid her farewell when her time came. Ada was listless for sometime afterwards. My brothers and I divided our time between helping to maintain the kingdom, watch Nimriel and sit with our father. I often sat with Ada whilst Celeron watched Nimriel and Arondil worked with the advisors, but we would often rotate. In time, my father lifted himself of his mourning and slowly became his old self again."

"How was he able to do that?"

"With our love. He remembered his children: remembered that we, even grown and past our majority, still needed him. We had already lost one parent; none of us would have survived losing another."

Elladan listened to Legolas' words, feeling that they reflected what his heart spoke. He realized then that he had found a very deep connection between himself and the Mirkwood prince, due to their shared experiences. "What is your father like?" Elladan asked. "I have heard stories, but King Thranduil seems very...contrary to the rumors that have circulated."

Legolas laughed then, the chime-like sound filling the air and warming the Peredhel's heart. "Ada is only half of what the rumors say, and even then it is only on outward appearances. Surely Erestor and Lindir have told you different from others?"

"Nay, they say nothing after their visits to the North. They merely shake their heads when King Thranduil is mentioned as arrogant, but they remain silent."

"How very like them. But nay, my father only appears bitter and haughty. He cares deeply for our home and people; he would rather die than see a single elf of the wood injured in any way. Ada is not as close-minded as most seem to believe either. He is rather open to the idea of close relations with the other realms, but there are some of his advisors who believe such a course of action is unwise and rash. So he often keeps his opinions to himself, sharing his thoughts with my siblings and I, and works to better relations in secret." Legolas paused for a moment, not knowing whether his next words would upset or reassure Elladan. After a few moments' thought, he decided to forge ahead. "Did you know that my father has been in love with yours for ages, even before he married my mother?"

Elladan sighed, closing his eyes against the sunlight. "I suspected as much observing the King over the last few days. Your mother...did she know?"

"I believe she did, and she accepted it. Ada did love Nana, just in a different way to which he loves Lord Elrond. My mother was content with the love that she was given, never asking for more."

"I do not know how my father feels," Elladan admitted. "He loved my mother, but my siblings and I know that previously Ada was in love with the High King. Glorfindel, Erestor and Lindir have spoken of their love before, so I know it to be true. I heard it was King Thranduil who pulled Ada back from the brink when Gil-galad died."

"I have heard such as well. My father does not speak of much of that time, so I know very little of what happened. All I really know is that he spoke for a long time with Lord Elrond, after which they went their separate ways."

"Does is not surprise you that our fathers are such good friends?"

Legolas shrugged, smiling wistfully. "It does not surprise me much at all. Even as an elfling, I knew that my father was not always what he seemed. There are a lot of masks, a lot of pretenses; I suppose Ada acquire most of his current facades as a prince under my grandfather's rather stringent ruling and parenting. Ada didn't always see eye-to-eye with my grandfather, but he was always careful to hide what he truly thought and felt, especially if it would upset his father. Ada didn't want my brothers, sister and I growing up like that, like we had something to hide from him."

"I'm beginning to like King Thranduil more everyday."

"I am developing a fondness for your father as well, despite his current state."

Elladan returned the smile that Legolas was giving him; he was glad to discover that his father got along so well with the King of Mirkwood, destroying the rumors Elladan and his siblings had grown up hearing. He could see that Legolas was much like Thranduil, and was growing accustomed to the young prince's company each day. He found himself wanting to touch the other elf without knowing why. Giving in to the temptation, Elladan reached out and tenderly caressed a wayward lock of golden hair. Crystal blue eyes turned to him, widening slightly at his actions but Legolas didn't pull away, for which Elladan was relieved.

"Can I ask a favor of you, Legolas?" Elladan whispered.

"Of course, meldir." Legolas found himself involuntarily moving closer to the twin, feeling mesmerized by the look in Elladan's stormy gray eyes as the twin fiddled with his hair.

"Will you hold me like you did on the first day we met?" He found his throat going dry and his heart suddenly beating rapidly; nervousness crept into Elladan's being but he forced himself to speak again. "I find lately that I need someone--anyone--near me, touching me; it's a comforting feeling. Usually it is Elrohir who gives me comfort, but he is not here now and I..." Elladan wasn't able to finish as Legolas moved closer, wrapping long, lean arms around the Peredhel and hugging him close. He sighed into the golden hair, closing his eyes. "Hannon le."

Legolas smiled, hugging his friend. He felt the tiniest bit awkward in their current position but pushed the feeling aside. Elladan needed a friend, a companion, right now, and Legolas would be that person. But...did he want more? Would Elladan accept him as more? The questions without answers began to whirl through the prince's head, making it difficult to think coherently. He gave up in the end, and just allowed himself to be Elladan's anchor to the world. There would be time later for other things, other answers to surface.

---

Chapter 6: A Second Chance
"Elrond?" Thranduil slowly opened the door to the lord of Imladris' bedroom after knocking and receiving no answer. As usual the drapes were drawn despite it being the middle of the day, plunging the chamber into darkness. Elven eyes adjusted to the lack of light, blue orbs darting around the room to catch a glimpse of its occupant.

Elrond was seated in a chair, his head tilted back and eyes closed. He looked better than he had in weeks, though his face and frame still looked as if the elven lord carried a great weight on his shoulders. Instead of pushing his friends and family away, Elrond had allowed their presence in the recent days, though he still responded little to their inquiries about his health and well-being.

"What is it, Thranduil?" the Peredhel asked quietly without lifting his head or opening his eyes.

Thranduil quietly closed the door before him as he entered the chamber. His steps were light and nearly soundless as he glided over to where the dark-haired elf sat. Kneeling on the floor, Thranduil gazed up, placing his hands lightly upon Elrond's knees. He waited until the Peredhel had opened his eyes and was looking at him before he spoke. "You need to go out, Elrond. You can't keep locking yourself in your chamber all day."

"I do not wish to go out, Thranduil. I am content to be here."

"Are you?" Thranduil ignored the glare Elrond threw at him and quickly got to his feet, bodily drawing the other elf after him and towards the door. "Let's go for a walk, Elrond."

"I don't want a walk! I want to sit in my rooms and be alone! Why can't you let me be?"

"Because I'm your friend. I care and worry about you. I'm not about to let you waste your time here on Arda when there are so many other things you could--should--be doing!" Without another word, Thranduil dragged the half-elf out into the sunlight, ignoring Elrond's protests and the stares the servants gave them as they passed.

Thranduil didn't stop until the pair found themselves in a secluded part of one of Imladris' gardens. Side-by-side, they stood in a small clearing, surrounded entirely by blooms of every kind and color, green grass at their feet and bright blue sky above their heads. The Mirkwood King inhaled a deep breath, relishing in the feel of warm sunlight on his back and a gentle breeze ruffling his hair. Turning to gaze at Elrond, he was pleased to find the Peredhel was actually enjoying the outing despite his previous protests.

"See? Isn't this better than sitting in your stuffy old room all day?"

Elrond managed to throw a very unconvincing glare towards the blond elf before a faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "It does feel nice," he murmured, slowly closing his storm gray eyes.

"Told you." With a mischievous smirk, Thranduil settled down onto the grass beneath a tall willow; patting the spot next to him, he invited Elrond to sit. The Peredhel did so without any protests, much to Thranduil's delight. For a time they sat without speaking, taking in the beauty around them. It was Thranduil who spoke first. "Elrond? Do you remember when we first met?"

"I do," Elrond replied, thinking back to days long past. "We were so young then."

"Aye, so young and naïve to the world. And look at us now: we are old and have grown-up children now."

"You are still as I remember you to be, Thranduil. You were always full of love and life, though you always hid what you truly thought and felt behind masks. You still are that way, I see."

"It's a necessity sometimes," Thranduil replied with a sigh whilst toying with the end of a slender braid of golden hair. "Not all think and act as I do. I thank the Valar I have children who follow in my footsteps and are tolerant of others. There are still those of my realm who believe we shouldn't even associate with the Noldor, but I have always thought otherwise. I do not try to change the way other people think, nor do I try to impose myself upon them. But it is...frustrating to listen to their accusations and spiteful remarks sometimes." He flashed a grin at Elrond then. "I suppose that's where being king makes up for things."

Elrond couldn't help but issue a small giggle at the thought. "Aye, but I still remember you as a young prince and a proud archer who came to help in the Last Alliance. I don't think I'll ever forget the day we first met..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oropher was late, and that made Elrond irritable and impatient. He didn't understand how Gil-galad could sit so serenely, so calmly in his chair whilst waiting for a king who so obviously hated the Noldor and anything associated with them. Most of all, Elrond couldn't even begin to imagine how Gil-galad was keeping his composure; the High King hated people being late to formal meetings even more so than Elrond did.

"Elrond, please stop pacing," Gil-galad said past the steepled fingers he held before his face. "You are beginning to make me dizzy."

"He is late, my King. Does that not concern you?!" The Peredhel came to a standstill before his King and lover. Gil-galad had helped to raise Elrond and his twin, Elros, for a time after they had been found following their short captivity in Maglor's hands. Since then, especially after Elros' death, the King had always been there for Elrond as one of the few who could tolerate the Peredhel's sometimes quick and fierce temper. Even Glorfindel had difficulty at times dealing with Elrond when he was in such a state.

"Oropher is late, yes, but I never expected him to be on time, much less early to this meeting." Gil-galad's reply was calm and even as he sat back in his chair, regarding the other elf quietly. "It is no secret that the Sindarin King does not like we of the Noldor, Elrond. So then, knowing that, why should we expect him to not make some sort of entrance to this meeting that would rattle our nerves?"

"I suppose you are right."

"You know I am on this particular matter. Hush now, I hear footsteps; it is likely Glorfindel." Elrond was not at all surprised when Glorfindel really did enter the chamber in which he and Gil-galad were waiting. Erestor followed the golden-haired Elda, and he was followed by two blond elves. The Peredhel could only assume the elf with the stern expression and cold green eyes was Oropher, the King of the northern realm of Greenwood. He wore the brown and green colors of his kingdom proudly over shimmering mail, his head crowned with a wreath of laurel; a sword was girded at his side, and a bow and quiver upon his back. Oropher possessed an aura that commanded attention from all who were present before him, lest they feel his wrath. But it was the elf at his side that attracted Elrond's attention the most. Thranduil resembled his father in looks but not temperament. He was some forty years older than Elrond, yet looked much younger than the Peredhel, and wisened. His blue eyes held a mix of wonder and knowing, as if he were full of questions but possessed the answers to others. His golden hair was unadorned and loose save for two slender braids that fell from behind his ears; the mark of the Greenwood prince. He too wore a sword at his side and sported a bow in his hand. A full quiver of arrows was upon his back, partially hidden by the sweep of hair that waved to his waist. Unlike his father, Thranduil did not wear mail; instead, he wore a simple leather jerkin, leggings and boots of greens, browns and blacks. His ensemble was completed by a cloak and brown leather wrist guards; an archer's glove covered his right hand and fingers.

The prince's demeanor and composure was much easier than that of his father, Elrond noted whilst continuing his observation of Thranduil as the small party stepped close Gil-galad and himself. Thranduil seemed less intimidating than his father, more curious. And he appeared more understanding and tolerant, Elrond quickly realized. The Peredhel could see the almost sympathetic expression the Greenwood prince gave to each of the Noldorin elves as he passed into the chamber, a look that opposed that of his father's stern and nearly hate-filled gaze.

"King Oropher," Gil-galad greeted with a nod of his head. "'Tis good to see you well. I trust you have already met Glorfindel and Erestor; may I present to you my herald, Elrond son of Eärendil."

"The mariner's son," Oropher said, eyeing Elrond closely and making the Peredhel feel most uncomfortable. "Aye, I have heard of you, and of the deeds of your father." He gave Elrond another thorough look-over before turning back to Gil-galad and motioning for Thranduil to step closer. "And I present to you my son, Thranduil of Greenwood."

Thranduil made an elegant bow in honor to the High King, which impressed more than Gil-galad. Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged a look behind Oropher's back, and Elrond easily interpreted the look as one of approval towards Oropher's heir.

"'Tis an honor to be in your presence, Sire," Thranduil said, ignoring the momentary scowl his father threw at him. "I hope we may be great allies in this battle against Sauron."

"Well said, son of Oropher," Gil-galad replied with a nod. "There is much to discuss at present, but perhaps you would like some rest first? The journey from the Greenwood could not have been easy or short."

"I will not rest," Oropher protested. "As you said, there is much to discuss and I would that we began now. But my son may take some refreshment if that is his wish."

"It is, father."

"Then let Elrond show you the way to your quarters," Gil-galad said, sparing a quick glance at his herald. Obediently and politely, Elrond bowed to both his King and Oropher before motioning for Thranduil to follow him.

"Come," he said, turning to the blond prince. "Your quarters are just down this corridor."

~~~~~~~~~~
Thranduil followed the King's herald silently as Elrond led him down the corridor. Blue eyes kept themselves trained on the Peredhel's back, following the sway of the raven hair as Elrond moved. He didn't understand it, but Thranduil felt something then, something he had never felt before. He became absorbed in the emotion he felt stirring in his chest, and almost didn't register Elrond's voice when the other spoke.

"These are your quarters, Prince Thranduil," the dark-haired elf said, motioning to the open door of a vast, darkened chamber. "Your father's assigned guest room is just next door, and the rest of your party will be saying down the corridor."

"Thank you," the young prince replied with a kind smile, which widened at the somewhat confused expression that passed across the herald's face. "And please, call me Thranduil. I'm not overly fond of my title, though my father expects others to use it when in his presence."

"You are...quite different from your father."

Thranduil laughed at that, a merry sound that resembled raindrops tinkling lightly on silver roofs and carried down the hall. "Why do you think so?"

Elrond found himself blushing at the laughter, growing embarrassed without quite knowing why. "You just do. When you entered the High King's court, there was something different about you. King Oropher seems rather stubborn, compared to..."

"Compared to me? Nay, I can be rather stubborn when I want to be, at least that is what I am told." The golden-haired prince let issue a somber sigh. "My father is rather set in his ways and thinking, and does not like it when people try to persuade him otherwise. I am of the same mindset, but I have different standings on certain issues."

"Such as?"

"Can you not guess?"

"To be honest, I cannot." A sudden thought occurred to Elrond, to which he turned to Thranduil with wonder and curiosity. "Unless you are referring to the Kinslayings?"

The golden head nodded. "My father still holds the Noldor in contempt because of the Elder Days."

"But you do not?"

"They are the Elder Days, meldir; they are not the present. Many of those of today are related, sometimes distantly, to those who participated in such events, such as your High King. Even then, many of the elves of yore were still good people. Fingon and Turgon were excellent rulers, defending their realms and their people to their dying days."

"They were of the House of Fingolfin. You cannot think so highly of the House of Fëanor."

"Why? Did Maglor not raise you as his own following the attack at the Mouth of Sirion when he could have easily killed you? Did not Maedhros turn away the Kingship of the Noldor, giving it to Fingolfin after his rescue? You are right, I do not think as highly of them as I do the other houses of the Noldor. And in turn I do not think of the Noldor as highly as I do my own people. But I do not think I have the right to hold the people of this time responsible for actions their forefathers committed."

"You truly are different from your father."

"And yet people still call me my father's son."

Elrond laughed, clasping Thranduil's arm in a warm and friendly gesture. "I can see, mellon, that we will be great friends. But forgive me, for I must return to my King's side. If you should need anything, call for a servant or maid; they will attend to whatever needs you might have."

"Hannon le."

With another smile, Elrond turned and left, heading back in the direction they had come. Thranduil remained standing in the corridor a moment longer, watching the Peredhel until he had turned a corner and the dark head disappeared. The prince then averted his eyes to the ground at his feet, one slim hand creeping upwards to clutch his tunic just above his heart.

/Elbereth, why is my heart racing? I can't be...we've only just met! I've never...it's so confusing./ Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in an attempt to recompose himself, Thranduil exhaled slowly before entering his room. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to remove his weapons and his boots before collapsing on the bed. Curling in on himself, Thranduil hugged his knees, staring at the wall as he tried to make sense of this new situation and of the impending war that might ruin everything.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"We were young and naïve then, weren't we?" Elrond asked, turning to gaze at his old friend. He returned the smile Thranduil gave him, but it quickly faded as he moved closer to the Sinda. "You loved me from that first day, didn't you?"

Thranduil felt the blood drain from his face, but kept his composure, managing to hide old hurts from his face and eyes as he turned to meet Elrond's gaze. "I didn't know then you were Gil-galad's lover; had I known I would never have told you how I felt."

"But you did tell me."

"I was a foolish child then. I should have known better, but I was reckless and didn't care much how my actions would affect others. I should have kept my tongue." He averted his eyes, feeling as insecure and shy as that first day. The warm and gentle hand that cupped his cheek surprised him as Thranduil felt his face being turned until he met those storm-gray eyes again.

"We were both foolish," Elrond said softly, moving closer until he was lightly pressed against Thranduil's side. "But we grew up. We've both loved and lost, had beautiful children we are proud of." He sighed, releasing his hold on Thranduil but not moving away as he stared down at his hands. "I know I should have been more grateful towards you for coming all this way to help me when you heard about what happened to my wife."

"I told you I would always come."

"Aye, you did." A pause. "Did you know Celebrían released me from our marriage vows just before she sailed?"

Thranduil's eyes widened at the news, but he kept his peace, waiting for Elrond to finish.

"She told me to take another lover, one who would love me deeply in turn. Her words were so sudden that I couldn't say anything; I was too stunned, but she merely smiled. It was almost as if she had sensed something." Gray eyes lifted then, gazing into a sapphire pair that radiated thousands of years' worth of love.

"I have not been released from my vows," Thranduil whispered, understanding Elrond's silent request. His voice held a note of melancholy, but he remained composed. "In any case, you have given me no indication, past or present, that you have such feelings for me."

"Can you not give me a chance now? Please?"

There was nothing he had been able to deny Elrond, not in the past and certainly not now. Moving slowly so the Peredhel could watch him, Thranduil cupped Elrond's face in both of his hands. Thumbs brushed over the smooth skin of high cheekbones; tentatively, Thranduil leaned in closer, brushing his lips against the other elf's. Once, twice, he repeated his actions before deepening the caress. Pliant, soft lips opened to him, allowing Thranduil to explore and plunder the sweet cavern. Both issued moans of longing as their kiss continued, making up for lost time and those yet to come.

TBC...

*Image of Thranduil borrow with permission from Nina Soraco of king's blue-green; please do not reproduce, alter, or redistribute.

[Return]