The Color Of Love
Beta: Silvara
4: epilogue
Elrohir looked up from his parchment and surveyed the dimly lit library.
His father and Thranduil sat on piles of plush pillows set before the blazing hearth. Elrond lay between Thranduil's thighs, sipping mulled wine and talking softly with his lover. Thranduil stroked Elrond's hair, a wistful smile gracing his lips. The were both dressed in simple leggings and tunics, happy to simply bask in each other's glow.
Elrohir's eyes traveled further through the room to two figures sitting at a chess table still dressed in their formal robes. Then again, thought Elrohir, when had he ever seen Erestor not in those severe black robes? Glorfindel was concentrating intently on the game board, his brow furrowed slightly as he contemplated his next move. The Noldo rested his chin on his hand, watching through half-closed eyes, his lover never the wiser about the looks of adoration he cast at him.
Then the youngest Peredhel twin's eyes set upon the two large chairs between the couples. Sprawled in those chairs were Elrohir's lovers, Elladan and Legolas. His twin rested his legs over one arm and his shoulders against the other. Legolas, looking stunning as ever in his tunic and sleep pants, mimiced the position Elladan had assumed. They each were reading books, or at least trying to give the impression that was what they were doing. In reality, Legolas kept batting Elladan's bare feet with his own. Elrohir's eyes softened as a smile came across Legolas' face, lighting up the room.
He was content. Happy. His family, all those he truly cared about, were accounted for in Imladris. Arwen was in her rooms, choosing to avoid all the loving moments between her old tutors, her father, and her brothers. But, even without her, Elrohir felt the most satisfied that he had been in many years.
Elladan looked up and caught his twin watching them. "Done with your writing, caulen?"
A blush spread over his cheeks. "Nay, Elladan, I am not."
"Will you read it to us once you have finished it?" Legolas asked.
Thranduil looked over his shoulder at the Peredhel. "You are such an accomplished author, Elrohir, do share with us your labors of this evening."
Elrohir laughed, feeling the blush deepen. "Will I not be left alone if I say nay?"
Erestor shook his head. "We will pester you until you do, pen neth."
"Then I will. When it is done."
"Checkmate, Glorfindel," Erestor announced. "Third game tonight. Care to try a fourth?"
Glorfindel grumbled. "No, I don't think so. How about you fetch us some wine and we can make ourselves comfortable with the others?"
"'Fetch us some wine'? Glorfindel, when did you become unable to get your own refreshments?" Erestor stood, walking to the small pot of warm liquid.
The Balrog-slayer sat himself on the floor across from Thranduil and Elrond, smiling fondly at the couple. "Since I realized just how your robes contoured your arse so nicely, and this gives me the perfect opportunity to admire it."
The room burst out with sudden laughter and Erestor knew his face was blazing. "Glorfindel..."
"Meleth?" He raised one eyebrow, patting the floor next to him. Everyone calmed down and Erestor took his place on the thick green carpet. Thranduil caught his eye and winked at him, smiling broadly.
The room quieted and each was lost to their own thoughts while Elrohir completed his work. After a small while, he put his quill down and walked to the gathered Elves. Legolas dropped his book and patted his lap, which Elrohir happily sat in.
"It is complete."
Everyone came to attention, eyes all on him, and Legolas wrapped his arms around the young twin's waist. Elrohir cleared his throat and began.
"Memories, they say, are demons that haunt
"Actions, they say, are vipers that bite
"Dreams, they say, are wisps of cloud
"That love is red, this too they know
