The Last Homely House
Chapter Six

Rating :NC-17
Category: Humour, Drama, AU
Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit, Legolas/Gimli
Warnings: Slash (means: two male Elves in some kind of love) Mpreg
Summary: Some are found - some find each other ...
Notes: ‘The Battlefield Song’ I filked (filched?) from ‘Bored on the List Field’ by Andrew Scarhart and Othar Battleskald; two perfectly innocent SCA people who happened to leave a song of theirs lying around where I could get my little rodent paws on it.

Very special thanks and dedication to Eldanorien, who translated the two lines of the song the Elf by the pond is singing into Quenya. I realize it is highly unlikely Elves would be singing any old Cowboy Junkies tunes, but I like them, and it seemed to fit.

Thanks as always to Master Erestor, who walks in beauty like the night, and mentioned what NC-17 bits she would like to see, and with whom. How can I deny her anything?

There is an illustration to accompany this chapter of Glorfindel and his adorable new Elfling, drawn by Pira.

Elladan sat on the swing, looking down at the toes of his boots. He had thought a great deal about what his brother had said, and had finally decided he was right. He was not protecting himself from harm, he was simply locking himself away in an attempt to show his mother he was sorry she was captured on his account. But it had not been his fault, and she was not there to see. And he could not expect his brother and father to isolate themselves to suit him.

He glanced up, and saw Orophin lurking nearby. He was almost shy in Elladan’s presence, which Elladan found more endearing than words could say. Orophin’s life had not been a gentle one, this much he knew. He had been the slave of a blacksmith, and although Elladan by far did not know the full tale, he knew enough. Orophin had lost his parents as well, and knew grief. Perhaps he was a better choice for a lover than he had considered.

He smiled at him, the smile broadening as the tall Galadhrim stepped closer. He almost reminded Elladan of Rabbit; moving with a cautious grace, ready to flee if need be.

“You may approach without fear, Orophin . I told my Ada all about your fib. He no longer seeks your head on a pike.”

Orophin smiled and shook his head. “I only…”

“I know. You did not wish for me to look like a clumsy oaf beneath Thranduil’s roof. Alas, I have accompanied Ada on diplomatic matters here before, and King Thranduil knows full well I can trip over my shadow. When I was small he lined my guest room floor with furs.”

Orophin stepped closer. Elladan allowed himself for the first time to look into his eyes. They were the colour of the sea: a soft green-grey.

“I do not understand Thranduil,” said Orophin softly. “He seems so hard, yet so much about him indicates he is not.”

“He is in a h ard position,” said Elladan. “He is King, and that position requires one to distance oneself from those who serve, from those who may one day be sent forth to fight and die. Yet his heart is not cold.”

“I do not envy him. I would not wish to order others to march unto their death. Haldir was so torn inside when Galadriel appointed him to lead our forces to Helm’s Deep. Joy, at being thought well enough of to be given such a task, yet sadness at knowing those he led may fall.”

“I envy Haldir,” said Elladan quietly. “He has wealth beyond my father’s and Thranduil’s.” He scuffed his toe against the wood floor of the gazebo. “A lover, and a family.”

“These things could also be yours,” said Orophin softly.

“If I was brave enough to claim them. Many things I have done battle with, yet loath am I to give my heart.”

“I know that of which you speak,” said Orophin . “Long it was ere I dared give my heart, because so much of my life was but pain.”

Elladan glanced up at him, furrowing his brow. “I should have thought of that. I knew you had felt great loss, but it did not occur to me you also would be afraid to give your heart.”

Orophin sat on the steps and looked up at the young Elven lord. “We are not so different, thee and I.”

“No,” said Elladan softly. “We are not.”

They sat together in silence for a time, each considering his own past, his own pains and journeys. Then Elladan rose to his feet. His throat was tight, and he was nervous, but he was determined to hide it.

“It grows late, and the woods are becoming dark. Would you walk me to my chambers?”

Orophin looked somewhat surprised, but nodded. “I would be honored, my young Lord.”

He offered Elladan his arm, and he accepted it. He stepped carefully down from the gazebo, determined not to trip or do anything foolish. His breath caught as his hand came to rest on Orophin ’s forearm. It was hard and sinewy from long hours practicing his bowmanship, and tanned from the weather. His very presence was both intoxicating and fearsome to Elladan, but he had made up his mind, and he was determined to follow through.

He was going to give himself to Orophin .

Elladan had never known a lover, either male or female. However Elrohir had known many, and had been more than happy to tell him all about it. He knew mentally what to expect, but had nothing to compare it with. Love-making was not something he had spent a great deal of time considering.

They made their way into the castle in pleasant silence. Neither was overly talkative, and it was nice not to have to keep up a stream of small talk for the benefit of another. They crossed the hall, Orophin pausing as Elladan bent to pat Thranduil’s great hunting dogs. Then they went to the great curving stair and made their way up it, finally reaching Elladan’s door. He reached out to close his hand around the cold iron latch, then turned to look at Orophin , his dark eyes wide with fear. He swallowed.

“Would you… like… to come in?”

Orophin blinked in surprise. “I would,” he said quietly.

Elladan smiled nervously, then opened the door. Together they stepped into the dark, quiet chamber. Then Elladan shut the door.

He felt Orophin step closer, wanting to be near him, yet not wishing to frighten the young Elf away. Elladan swallowed again, and carefully locked the door before turning towards the tall Galadhel. He was gazing down at him with those beautiful sea-green eyes, and Elladan carefully reached out to place his hands on his shoulders.

He was warm, and strong, and for the first time Elladan allowed himself to move closer, smelling the warm musk of his body.

“I… have never… I mean…” Elladan cursed his nervousness. “I am a virgin.”

Orophin had suspected as much. He gently put his arms around him, trailing his fingers through Elladan’s hip-length hair. “I will do nothing you do not wish me to. We have all eternity for this moment, if that is what you require.”

Elladan moved closer still, resting his head against Orophin ’s broad chest. He smiled as he listened to the steady calm beat of his heart.

“I never thought of you as a lover until this very day. I did not dare permit myself. But now that we are here, I think I chose wisely.’

He felt Orophin gently kiss his brow. “I am glad,” he whispered.

Elladan raised his head and looked once more into those eyes. Then he moved his head closer, and gasped as he felt Orophin ’s lips against his own. A rush of heat washed through him, and he was afraid, but he did not pull away. He slid his arms around Orophin ’s long waist and parted his lips, feeling his tongue enter him. It was thrilling and terribly frightening, but he wanted it, wanted to experience everything this Elf could show him.

The kiss ended, and he felt weak. He swallowed nervously, then laughed. “I quite enjoyed that.”

“Did you,” said Orophin . He kissed him again, nibbling his lips, tasting him, then pulling him close to kiss him deeply, his tongue exploring him once more. Elladan heard himself draw breath sharply, then sank against the broad chest. It was thrilling and terrifying and so wonderful, all at the same time. He shivered, but did not protest as he felt Orophin gently push his outer robe from his shoulders. The heavy velvet and satin robe fell to the floor, and he stood now in only the fine white under-garment.

Elladan felt the fear return, now that he was virtually naked before his lover. He made a small sound and closed his eyes, allowing Orophin to gently draw him close and hold him. He lowered his head to his shoulder, shivering.

“I am afraid,” he whispered.

He felt a soft kiss upon his brow. “Please, do not fear. I would sooner be torn apart by wargs than ever harm you.”

“I know, yet still I am afraid.”

“Well this is a very big event in your life, one that shall never come again, and should never be taken lightly.”

Elladan looked up at Orophin , and asked softly, “Who was your first?”

“My first male lover?”

Elladan nodded. Orophin smiled. “A Man. He was far older than I was, though he was forty-three summers, and I ninety-two. But you know how we Elves are children far longer than Men. I suspect he believed I was old enough for such things. He was anxious to have me, and I did not tell him I was untried.” Orophin gently trailed his hand through Elladan’s hair, looking sad and thoughtful.

“He hurt you,” said Elladan.

“Yes and no. I was not truthful with him. I lead him to believe he was but one of many for me. I did not know… how I would feel afterwards. There was the physical pain of his treating me as though I was no virgin, but harder still was sharing something so important with him, and he cared not for me. But as I said, that was more my fault than his. I wanted him to think I was a whore rather than chaste.” He kissed Elladan. “But we are here for you, and I will commit no such rash act with thee.”

“I am sorry. I would erase that from your past, had I the power.”

Orophin drew back and looked down at Elladan, smiling. “I believe you would,” he said softly. “Very well, let us erase it together.”

He kissed Elladan, then gently picked him up. He carried him over to the large, cold, ornate bed, setting him down upon it. He then undid his cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Then he removed his tunic and undershirt. Wearing only his breaches and boots, he seemed large and intimidatingly sexual to the younger Elf. But Elladan would not be off-put. Carefully, he reached up and touched his soft, warm skin.

“I pray this night never ends,” he said softly.

“It shall last a thousand years, if you wish it.”

“I do. But I doubt the wishes of one young Elf-Lord means much to the passage of time.”

“Perhaps not. But while we have now, then this time never shall end.” He lay beside him, moving his large body close to Elladan’s and kissing him.

Carefully he untied the front of the light garment, and Elladan uttered a soft gasp as he felt the calloused hand of the Galadhel slip beneath the silken garment. Then the garment fell open, and with a jolt of fear he realized he was naked. Reflexively, he clutched Orophin , and heard the older Elf laugh quietly.

“Why do you shiver so, penneth? You are lovely beyond words.”

“It is not the questioning of my beauty, it is the newness of this. I told you, I am a virgin. Others have seen me unclad, but to you only have I shown this side of myself.”

Orophin kissed him. “Such chastity I will not take from you lightly. I would have you feel neither fear nor pain.”

“Yet I suspect I shall feel both.”

“Alas, quite likely.”

Elladan actually laughed, then touched Orophin ’s face, trailing his fingertips over his high cheekbones. “My brother has had so many he does not recall his first.”

“He does, penneth, he just prefers not to admit how bad his taste was at the time.”

Elladan laughed. “ Orophin , why have I never seen how much I care for thee before now?”

Orophin kissed him. “You were clouded with fear and darkness, and did not look. Yet I saw all along how much I cared for thee.”

Elladan lightly touched his face, following the lines of it, looking into the eyes that reminded him so much of the sea. He took hold of the light garment and tossed it to the floor. His fear and discomfort had left; he wished now only to have this Elf take him.

Orophin kissed him, then moved off the bed. Standing, he removed his breeches and boots. Elladan sat up to watch him, still nervous, but wanting this experience very much. He surprised himself by reaching out to gently place his hands on Orophin ’s waist, then leaning forward to touch his lips to the hard penis.

It was hot, and silky, but harder than he had expected. He closed his eyes and simply felt its warmth against his skin as he moved his cheek against it. Then he raised his head, extending his tongue and lightly running it down the length. He grinned, more at his own nervousness than anything, and lightly licked the head. Then, summoning all his courage, he parted his lips and cautiously took it into his mouth.

He heard Orophin make a soft cry, and felt his hands come to rest upon his shoulders, squeezing them. It was thrilling to know he was giving his companion pleasure, and, growing bolder, slid more of the heated shaft into his mouth. He actually giggled as he heard Orophin groan, and felt a shudder run through him. He slid his lips off of it, and said innocently; “You approve, my lord?”

“I do indeed. Don’t stop.”

Elladan laughed quietly, and once more took the hard penis into his mouth. He slid his lips slowly down its length, and giggled again as he felt Orophin ’s knees buckle.

“You,” said Orophin quietly, “are a cruel little vixen.”

“Me? I am but a chaste and humble virgin.”

“Yet worldly enough to drive me to distraction.”

Elladan kissed his flat stomach, then lay back on the bed. “So show me how it is done.”

Orophin moved onto the bed, positioning himself over Elladan’s prone form. He kissed him firmly, passionately. Then he moved down his young body, kissing his heated flesh, tasting him with his tongue. Then he grinned with self-satisfaction as he took Elladan’s penis into his mouth and heard him cry out. He raised his head and eyed him with mischief.

‘Tease me, will you, penneth?”

“Oh shut up and do that again.”

Orophin did, eventually. First he softly kissed Elladan’s smooth stomach, making his way slowly down between his thighs to gently nip and tease the flesh, moving his lips so close to the harden penis Elladan could feel his breath. He made a soft, expectant sound, but was disappointed as the lips he desired moved to kiss his inner thigh. He felt the tip of a tongue gently taste him, and he shivered. Then he groaned softly as the warm mouth enveloped him again.

“Do not stop. Please.”

Orophin worked on him carefully, licking, then sucking him hard. Elladan squirmed, then gasped, wondering if he would go mad before this ended. He hoped it never did. Too soon, however, it did. Elladan cried out with frustration, then opened his eyes to see Orophin moving over top of him. He settled onto his body, then kissed him. Elladan felt his fear return as he parted his thighs and felt Orophin move between them, then the touch of a h ard penis moving between his thighs.

He caught hold of Orophin , frightened again, wondering how his lover could have pretended this moment had meant nothing with another.

“You will not hurt me,” he said anxiously.

“Not if I can help it.”

“How... I mean… what…”

Orophin kissed him firmly, lovingly. “Hush,” he said, very quietly. “And do not fear.”

Elladan held him tightly. He nodded, but could not help but fear. His fright only grew as he felt a large hand slip down between his thighs, between his buttocks, touching him where none had before. He made a small sound as he felt a finger, wet with an unknown substance, touch him.

“”What is that?” he asked.

Orophin raised his head and smiled wryly. “My finger?”

“No! What is on it?”

He kissed him. “An oil I brought with me, nothing more.”

“You carry such things with you?”

“Well, yes. I carry it frequently. It is used for cleansing shallow cuts. Many archers carry such with them, in case an arrow grazes them. Though it has other uses as well.”

“So you did not simply carry it about in hopes I would give in to your charms.”

“I am not that crude in my desires.”

Elladan sighed heavily, then closed his eyes. “I thought not. I did not mean to imply you were. It was more the thought of what was to follow that made me start.”

Orophin stroked Elladan’s hair with his clean hand. “I would not hurt you, nor would I sully you with simple want.” He kissed him gently. “I wish to be your lover, not a m ere conqueror.”

“Others have tried to conquer me, as though I was but an object in their way. One even tried to force me. He would have succeeded, had Glorfindel not been near.”

Orophin raised his head sharply, looking into Elladan’s eyes. “Who would dare such a thing? Who would try to hurt you thusly? I will cut his heart out!”

Elladan wrapped his arms around Orophin ’s strong neck. “I had nearly forgotten about it. He was a youth of Men. He happened upon me as I was swimming in the river. We spoke a while, and he made it known he would like to have me. I said I did not give myself so easily. He seemed to think that meant I wished to be forced to comply. Or perhaps he did not care, and wished only to take what he desired. He was stronger than I. I would have soon tired and been taken if Glorfindel had not happened by. He slew him. I had almost forgotten this until now.”

“I would have slain him myself. But this makes me think it is not surprising you have chosen to wait so long to take a lover.”

“That, and other reasons,” said Elladan. “But now, I wish to have you. If you can bear to have one who is so full of fear?”

“There is no shame in fear,” said Orophin . “And I did say I would do nothing you did not wish. Are you certain you are ready for this?”

Elladan kissed his firmly, parting his lips to accept Orophin ’s tongue into his mouth. “Very sure, my lover.”

He held the other Elf tightly, shivering, his face pressed against Orophin ’s strong neck as he felt the hard penis touch him, then gently push at him. He made a small, soft sound as it pushed against him again, then cried out sharply as it finally made its way in. Orophin held him hard, whispering softly to him, reassuring him. Elladan finally relaxed a little, feeling his eyes become hot and wet. He squeezed them shut, and felt Orophin push deeper into him.

“Are you all right? Shall I continue?”

Elladan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He gasped quietly as the seemingly huge penis began to move slowly within him. He relaxed a little more, then finally sank back into the pillows of the large bed, his arms still about Orophin ’s neck.

‘Well,’ he thought, ‘at least Elrohir can now no longer call me a black-eyed virgin.’

He did not realize he was crying until he heard himself suddenly draw a ragged breath, then utter one sob against Orophin ’s shoulder. The Elven archer slowed his lovemaking, kissing Elladan, stroking him, trying to reassure him.

“Please do not fear, penneth. I love you.”

Elladan was shivering and tense as he heard himself say in a cracked voice; “I love you too.”

“Then quiet yourself, and trust me. Please.”

“I do. But…”

Orophin kissed him deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of Elladan’s mouth. At last he broke off the kiss, and asked; “Shall I stop?”

“No. But…it hurts me, and I am afraid.”

Orophin kissed him again, then grinned. Carefully he withdrew, then rolled onto his back, pulling his young lover on top of him. He laughed in his rusty voice. “Then take me,” he said softly.

“You… would let me...?”

“I would welcome you.”

Elladan looked down into Orophin ’s eyes, which now were soft and inviting. He seemed puzzled by the change, but kissed him. He felt Orophin ’s hand close over his penis, and he could not help but thrust slowly into the warm, tight embrace, feeling the oil coat him. Then the hand was guiding him down between Orophin ’s thighs, and at last into him.

“Better?” the archer purred.

‘Better’ was an understatement. He couldn’t believe what pleasures he had been denying himself. He was a clumsy and inexperienced lover, but Orophin seemed to mind not at all, and in fact delight in his untried lust. When he felt Elladan suddenly and almost unexpectedly spill inside him, he held the younger Elf tightly, kissing him, then throwing his head back to allow his own pleasure to vent forth, crying out as it covered the both of them in its heat. Then he kissed Elladan again, and laughed.

“Terrible,” he said.

“My lovemaking?”

“No. That we have to wait so long to do it again.”

Elladan laughed, taking hold of Orophin ’s long golden hair. “And that I waited so long to do it the first time.”

“Yes, that also.” He smiled at the younger Elf, stroking his very long dark hair. His green eyes grew serious, and he said quietly. “And now it is my turn to fear, for I do love you.”

Elladan trailed a fingertip over Orophin ’s defined lips. “And why should you fear loving me?”

“Because to love is to trust, and I have scarce little trust to share.”

“As do we both,” said Elladan. He bent to kiss the soft, desirable lips. “And that is what makes me trust you, because well you know what it is like to have your trust shattered, and your heart broken.”

“I do indeed,” said Orophin quietly. He linked his arm around Elladan’s neck and pulled him close to kiss him, parting his lips, drawing his tongue into his mouth. Elladan drew the covers over the both of them, and they lay together in the huge bed, embracing and kissing in the pleasant darkness.

***---***

Gimli was seated on a stone, smoking his pipe as he considered how best to begin the huge task that was rebuilding Imladris. He was suddenly leapt on and knocked sideways. Hitting the dirt with a thud, he was about to shout a protest when he was silenced by a kiss, and felt the living warmth that could only be an Elven body.

“Legolas!”

He lay over Gimli, his blue eyes glinting. “Miss me?”

“Miss you? Another week and I would have died!”

Legolas kissed him again, then moved off him. “Come, let us find someplace quiet. I have much to say to you, and would do it before two dozen of your kin arrive.”

Together they went to the large stable, climbing the ladder into the loft above it. Gimli sat on the floor, his back against a h uge stack of hay. Legolas sat down beside him, then settled against him, resting his head on Gimli’s chest. “I have missed you, more than I can say.” Then he sank against him and began to cry.

Gimli sat, completely at a loss as to what to do. Rather clumsily he put his arms around the Elf’s slender frame and held him. “Come now, we weren’t apart that long.”

Legolas shook his head, then said; “I told Ada about you and I.”

“Oh,” said the Dwarf quietly. “That could not have been easy.”

“He does not wish to see me again unless we part.”

“Part? You can’t mean… part…”

“I told him I would not do it.”

Gimli raised his eyes to the ceiling and mouthed ‘Thank you,’ to any gods currently listening. He held Legolas a little more tightly. “He will get over it, laddie,” he said softly. He smiled. “He’ll have to. We are married.”

Legolas sat up and stared at him, his face wet with tears. “You knew!”

“Of course I knew! I may be a Dwarf, but I’m not an idiot!”

“Yet you said nothing.”

“Well it seemed important to you, and I knew something was frightening you. With all the nonsense going on around this mad house I was half afraid you were pregnant!”

“I can assure you I am not, and without considerable interference on the part of the Valar, never will be.”

“Well don’t say that too loudly, you never know who’s listening. We’d end up with a child looking like that Eomer fellow.”

Legolas thought about that, then burst out laughing. Then he collapsed against Gimli and began crying again.

“Gimli I gave my father heart failure! An Elf has never in the history of Arda had heart failure!”

“I’m surprised he had a h eart to fail.”

Legolas glared at Gimli, his pale hair stuck to his damp face. Gimli smiled and gently pushed his hair back. He sighed, then said quietly; “Legolas, you are the most fair and precious thing on this world to me, and I cannot foresee a time when I would be parted from you. I know you love your father. But he is old enough and wise enough, or at least he should be, to understand that children do not always grow up and do what their parents want. As angry as he may be, he will get over it.”

“Do you mean to tell your father?”

Gimli thought about that, then looked nervously at the beautiful Elf he held. “Do you want me to?”

Legolas smiled and shook his head. “Not if you do not wish to.” He sighed heavily. “I should imagine my father will be sending an angry letter to your father soon enough. Ah I do not wish to think of this right now.” He slid to the floor of the loft, looking up at Gimli with soft eyes. “Take me,” he said quietly.

They made love quietly in the hayloft, more for the closeness of it than the gratification. Afterwards they lay together, holding each other beneath Gimli’s heavy cloak. Gimli lightly ran his hand over Legolas’ soft skin, then kissed him. Legolas pressed closer and closed his eyes, smiling.

‘I was right,’ the Dwarf thought, ‘Never trust an Elf. They’ll steal your heart and they won’t give it back.’

Gimli lay with his eyes closed, content. Then after a time, he opened his eyes to cast a questioning look at his lover. The Elf was asleep, he realized. Not in the half-waking dream state that was usual to his kind, but dead asleep. It was rare for Elves to sleep thusly; the last time Gimli had seen Legolas truly asleep was after Helm’s Deep.

He stroked Legolas’ soft hair, then kissed his brow. The stress of the conflict with his father must have been well nigh more than he could tolerate. He sighed, then kissed him again. “He will forgive you, little one,” he said quietly.

***---***

Glorfindel went into the little cottage, closing the door behind himself. He removed his boots, then slid under the covers and spooned up against Erestor. He kissed the back of his neck, then grinned as Erestor opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder at him.

“Hello, darling, miss me?”

Erestor rolled over and glared at him. “Miss you? Why would I miss you? Gallivanting off to talk to Hobbits while I’m up half the night with a baby.”

“Yes but you run this whole house, no challenge is above you!”

“And you are the mighty Balrog-slayer! Therefore you can get up with Estorel the next time he begins demanding a new diaper and a bottle.”

“Ah, such a great task before me. Very well, I shall take on the mighty Elfling.” Glorfindel drew Erestor closer, then kissed his brow. “How are you? Really?”

He sighed heavily. “Alas, I am well. I fear I shall have to get out of this bed sometime soon and help with the mud-shoveling.”

“Nonsense! I will not hear of it. You may lounge and malinger as much as you like. It has only been three weeks since I found you lying in the Hall.”

“I am going to have to get out of this bed some day.”

“Well not if I have anything to say about it.” He kissed Erestor gently, then froze as a squeak came from the cradle near the bed. “I did not hear that.”

There was another squeak. As Glorfindel looked over his shoulder, he could see small fists and feet waving above the edge of the cradle. He sighed, then put his head down on Erestor’s shoulder. “We are never going to get a chance to make love again, are we?”

“Of course we are, in a few years. Besides, I am not quite up for it yet.”

“Well I was! This is not fair.”

“Courage, Fin.”

“I have courage, I was hoping for something a little more base.”

Erestor laughed. “Well Estorel has been asleep for three hours, I am quite certain you are about to get a diaperful of ‘base.’”

“Charming. Very charming.” Glorfindel kissed Erestor, holding him close, then lowering his head to nibble his neck.

Estorel squeaked a little more insistently. Glorfindel raised his head. “All right, penneth, Ada is coming.” He kissed Erestor again, then got out of bed and made his way over to the cradle. He bent over it and fixed the very small Elfling with a look of mock irritation.

“You have no regard for your parents.”

“Ah!”

“You have exhausted your poor mother.”

“AHH!”

“And you are noisy and you smell funny.”

“Bllllrrrrrrrrbbbb.”

“I shall take it under consideration.” He picked up the child. “Let us get you cleaned up before we feed you.”

Erestor closed his eyes and listened to Glorfindel quietly talk nonsense to Estorel. “I had the strangest dreams while I was in the Hall.”

“I’m not surprised. You must have been terrified.”

“Frightened, but not terrified. I kept dreaming of someone, and he was speaking to me, trying to keep my courage up.”

“I take it that you were not dreaming of me.”

“No.” Erestor smiled.

“Trollop. Who was it?”

“I do not know. He had black hair, and clear blue eyes. He was… pale, deathly pale. He kept calling me a certain name.” He paused, trying to think. “Little… oh what was it? Little... oh I recall. ‘Little Duevenel!’”

Glorfindel snapped his head around. “’Little Duevenel’? Little Night-Sky? You are sure?”

Erestor sat up and looked at Glorfindel. “Yes. Have you heard that name before?”

Glorfindel looked as though he had been struck. He was thinking back to a time when he and a friend had fought and traveled together; a friend who had a h abit of calling any black-haired Elf he knew ‘Little Duevenel’. It had been the fashion at the time for many of the Elves of Gondolin to wear white gems in their hair, and the white gems against the darkness had reminded him of a night sky.

“That… was a pet name I heard many times. Ecthelion used it.”

“But Ecthelion is no more.”

“I know. But perhaps he is not as far away as I have thought these many years.” He cast a suspicious look at his son. “’Thel, that is not your fea in there, is it?”

“Blllllrrrrrbbbblllllllttthhhhrrrrrrrpp.”

“Well if it is you, that is by far the most intelligent thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” He gave Erestor a sidelong glance. “Not too late to add another name, yet, is it?”

Erestor smiled. “Estorel Ecthelion?”

“Would you mind?”

“I have no objection, he was a great warrior, and a dear friend of yours. And it seems a friend of mine as well, though I do not recall ever meeting him.”

Glorfindel smiled at his lover. “You are the most important thing in this world to me. He would know that.”

“Then I am indebted to him. ‘Estorel Ecthelion’ it is.”

***---***

Aragorn waited for Arwen to come stand beside him, amused at how she could be so determined not to be left behind, yet still act like the dainty maiden she liked others to perceive her as. Aragorn had learned long ago that the daughter of Elrond was not above giving him a smack on the nose if she thought he needed it. Finally she came to stand beside him on the slag-heap and looked around.

“I have seen Imladris look better,” she said.

Faramir scrabbled up beside him, excited at the prospect of seeing any Elven home, even one that had been mostly washed away. He looked around at the mess, and said; “I had pictured something different.”

Aragorn noticed several Dwarfs cutting and clearing stone. Standing with them was a h uge form wearing Elven armor, her long black hair coursing down her back.

“Mauburz!” he called.

The great Uruk-Hai turned around. A grin crossed her face. “Estel! Little Elf-Man, me missed you!”

Faramir had a fit; trying to decide between going for his bow, going for his sword, or just going. Aragorn grabbed him, and said in his ear; “This Orc is our trusted friend.”

“It’s an Orc!”

Mauburz stopped before the frightened Man. “Me not Orc! Me Elf. Had bad accident. Arwen!”

“I have missed you, Mauburz.” She gently hugged the huge Orc.

Aragorn cast a sidelong glance at Faramir, who still looked as though he thought he was going mad. He carefully released him, ready to grab him again if need be. Then he turned to hug Mauburz.

“How are you, Mistress Straggler?”

“Good, all good. No one hurt when house fall.”

“And Erestor?”

“Baby born, he named ‘Estorel.’ Very cute. Smell funny.” She looked at Faramir. “You okay? You want sit down or cup of tea or something?”

Faramir opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Finally he just shook his head. Arwen reached out and gently pulled at one of the braids in Mauburz’s hair, then giggled. “Warrior braids?”

“Me warrior!”

“Yes you are, I would not debate that. And Elven armor! Where is your armor?”

Aragorn laughed as he noticed a tall, slender figure not far away, wearing armor-armor, his long red hair pulled back into the Uruk-Hai topknot. “Rhimlan!”

The Elf turned to look, and Aragorn laughed even harder. “You’re mad!”

The Elf grinned and nodded. He began heading slowly towards them, and Aragorn, Arwen and Faramir began descending the heap to meet him, while Mauburz leapt down to stand protectively near him. Aragorn walked over to the crippled Elf and hugged him gently.

“How fare you?”

Rhimlan shrugged. “I am well, I have no complaints, aside from being up to my knees in mud. Legolas arrived a fortnight ago, warning me that a group of Dwarven craftsmen were on their way, and lo, less than an hour later they come and begin to set to work. And only five days ago Lord Glorfindel rides up with three Halflings from the Shire, coming to re-sow the gardens in time for spring. This house shall be repaired by autumn, I swear!”

“How are the Dwarfs moving the stone?”

Rhimlan smiled, then pointed over his shoulder. Aragorn looked in the direction he indicated, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the huge green creature walking slowly into the clearing.

“A sea-dragon!” he said. “Where did you find such a beast?”

“She found us. She blew in with a storm, and it has suited her to live here ever since.”

“And she does not mind being used as a beast of burden?”

“She seems not to. Mind you, we’re always polite about asking.”

“That is wise. Now explain to me why you and Mauburz have chosen to wear each other’s armor.”

Rhimlan was about to answer, when there came an eerie, screaming cry. It rose up to a certain pitch, where it took on a h ollow, flute-like quality. A second, higher, voice took up the cry. Aragorn grabbed for his sword and looked about, obviously disturbed by the sound. The cry ended, and as Aragorn stood in a cold sweat, looking for the source of the scream, he heard someone laugh.

“Haldir is home!”

Aragorn sat down as though his muscles and bones had abruptly failed to work. He looked at Faramir, who was in much the same state.

“You thought the same thing,” said Aragorn.

The younger man still searched the sky. “I thought it was a Nazgûl.”

***---***

Haldir smiled as he heard the rising scream that meant Rabbit knew of his approach, and the Elves of Imladris laughed. Thranduil and his company halted and drew their swords.

“What demon of the pits was that?” he asked.

Elrond smiled at the Elven King. “Put down your sword, that was no demon. That was Haldir’s family singing a greeting.”

“Singing! I thought it was a Nazgûl!”

“Many have mistaken that cry for something more foul and deadly,” said Haldir. “Listen! It shall come again, not as shrill this time.”

The Elves waited on the road. After a m oment the scream came again. It held the same hollow quality, but was more moaning, wavering forlornly. Again a second, higher voice joined the first.

“Behold, Thranduil, a sound that has been heard through this land before we came to walk the shores of Middle Earth,” said Elrond. “The cry of the Plains Elves of Hathil-Loth-Mahr.”

“The wild Elf, that was his call? But we are still miles from Imladris!”

“Indeed it was his cry. His senses are beyond our own. He has probably been aware of us for hours.”

Thranduil sheathed his sword. “I should like to meet such a creature.”

Orophin laughed. “You may as well wish to meet the wind, your Majesty. Few even hear Rabbit, let alone see him.”

“I suppose ordering him to appear would do no good?”

“You suppose rightly,” said Elrond as they resumed their way down the road. “Rabbit recognizes no ruler. Not even the one whose home he occupies.”

“I would still like to see him, if only briefly.”

Haldir smiled. “I will see if I can convince him to appear.”

“He obeys not even you?”

“He is my lover, not my servant. And truly I pity any Elf, Man, or Dwarf who tries to make him one. Rabbit loves me because I do not make him bend to my will or way of life. And only a complete fool would try.”

“Yet he served under you at Helm’s Deep.”

“That was different; he was there representing his fallen kin. Once the battle was over, off came the uniform and once more he roamed the plains by his wild lone. I believe that aspect of his nature is why Orcs are so unpredictable. There is much about one that can be likened to the other.”

“And you say he is not evil.”

“There is no evil in him. Likewise there is no evil in the wolf or the bear, but still I would not attempt to put a lead on one.”

“Ah,” said Thranduil, smiling, “I see now more fully what you mean. At the risk of sounding like an over-eager Elfling, I would very much like to see him.”

“I will do my best, your Majesty.”

***---***

Mauburz and Rhimlan led Aragorn, Arwen, and Faramir to the old stew pond. There, they waited for nearly an hour for the rangy figure to lope into the clearing. Rabbit paused, waiting, and a m oment later Bramble caught up with him. They went to the pond where the dragon fished, and Rabbit walked into the icy water. Within moments, he caught a slick, silvery fish. He bit the head off, then passed the bloody remains to Bramble. She sat on the shore and began to eat.

“That,” said Faramir, “was disgusting.”

Aragorn had eaten raw fish on a few occasions, but not quite in that manner. He glanced at Arwen. “Very glad, I am, that you are a Wood-Elf.”

“That would make two of us,” she said.

Aragorn looked at Rhimlan. “Dare we approach?”

“You can try,” he said. “Rest assured, he knows we are here.”

Rabbit caught himself a smaller fish, and bolted it down head first and whole. Even wet and dirty, there was a calm nobility about the strange Elf. He washed himself off in the cold water, then made his way over to a large stone and settled on it like a wolf.

Arwen chose to remain behind as the two Men approached Rabbit. He watched them, his green eyes wary, but he did not so much as raise his head. Aragorn and Faramir finally reached him, and he growled very softly.

Faramir crossed his arms. “Is that any way to address your King?”

Rabbit did not move. “What are Kings to me?”

Faramir looked absolutely affronted; Aragorn smiled slightly. Faramir looked towards Aragorn, and said; “Shall I hit him with something soft and floppy, Sire?”

“Let us save the torture for later, Faramir.” Aragorn crouched before the Elf, speaking softly. “Mae govannen, ancient one. I came only to ask a question.”

Rabbit raised his head, looking at Aragorn with a strange clarity. His eyes were depthless; Aragorn felt if he looked into those eyes long enough, he could see all the way back to the beginning of the world.

“Ask,” said Rabbit simply.

“Have you ever looked upon Númenor? It was a city, long ago.”

Rabbit smiled very slightly, as though he understood something now. “Ah, now I place your scent. Ancient, I thought it, yet new as well. And perhaps a little familiar. Yes, I looked upon this place you speak of. Many times. I saw it begin as huts, and rise up proud and glorious, as the Mallorn trees of Lothlórien.”

Aragorn sat down upon the stony ground before Rabbit. “Would you tell me of it?”

“Long has it been since any came to me for tales. I am honored by your request. Yes, I will tell you of Númenor.”

Arwen smiled as she watched Aragorn speak with Rabbit. She linked her arm through Mauburz’s, and looked up at the huge Orc. “Trust a Ranger to be able to draw tales from a wild thing.”

“He smart boy for human.”

She laughed. “Indeed. Perhaps I will go and listen as well.” She stepped lightly over to where Rabbit, Aragorn, and Faramir were gathered, seating herself beside her husband.

Rhimlan linked his arm through Mauburz’s. “I simply can not understand what any Elf would see in a Man. ”

“Estel good boy. Estel not know he a Man, Mauburz thinks. Him raised by nice Lord Elrond.”

“Ah. Well that does make him a little more acceptable.” He looked up at Mauburz and smiled. “Frankly I think Men and frail Elven maids are over-estimated.”

“Me too,” she said. Together the two walked slowly away.

***---***

Elrond and his company drew close to Imladris. The floodwater still crossed the road, but it was an easily crossed shallow stream now, and the broken debris had been cleared away. Beyond the flood path was a large sign that had not been there when Elrond had departed. It leaned against a tree, and read; ‘Welcome to Fair Imladris.’ Beneath this, in a different hand, was written; ‘Beware of Orcs and Rabbits.’ Again, beneath this, in yet another hand, read; ‘Closed for Renovations.’

Thranduil cast a glance at Elrond. “Has your household always been mad?”

“They are growing more mad,” said Elrond, smiling. “Though truly, it is no longer really my house so much as our community. But we draw near at last. I shall be glad to be home.”

They rode down the newly repaired road, coming at last to what had once been Elrond’s courtyard. Glorfindel had told him about the damage, but Elrond had not been prepared to see his home in utter ruin. He stopped his horse and dismounted, then just stared at the wreckage.

The house was gone. There was no other way to describe it. Perched on the cliff face was the Great Hall. At the farthest end of the house was Elrond’s personal office. All else was gone. The courtyard, the gardens, the ancient stonework, all now but fragments the Dwarfs had hauled away to be re-worked. The mud had been cleared, and on the cliff Dwarfs prepared the stone for the foundation of the new house. Beyond them, where Elrond’s herb garden had once been, he could see a trio of small shapes working the earth. But Imladris was gone.

Elrond stared long at the empty place, feeling emotions churning within himself he could not name. Abruptly he turned and walked away, saying nothing. He just knew he had to be alone.

He found himself down by the stew pond without really knowing how he had come to be there. He sat on a rock, feeling empty and sick. His home was gone, but he realized that it was not its loss so much as what it had represented.

Celebrian was not coming back.

This had been their home; the house where they had married, made love, and raised a family. This was where they had meant to live forever. But it had not worked out that way. After she had been rescued from the Orcs, she had never been the same. Whatever horrors had been inflicted upon her, Elrond could only guess. She never spoke of it, had refused even to let him assist with her injuries. She had locked herself in a chamber and tended to them herself.

For a long time, he tried to reach her, to try and ease the emotional burden inflicted upon her. Even Mauburz in her own clumsy way tried, making certain the Lady never saw her. But Celebrian shut herself away from the world, even her own children. When she left for the Havens, she did so alone, leaving Erestor to discover her departure and inform him. Elrond tried to understand her reasons, and hoped in the Undying Lands she would heal and grow well.

But she had not. Even there, she was pained and tormented by her memories of her capture. She would not see Elrond, would not see her sons, refused even to read the letter from her daughter. Finally, she had her handmaiden give a note to Erestor to pass on to him. It was curt, stating only she had already unbound herself from him, and she had forsaken her immortal life. Soon she would be dead.

Nothing more clearly brought that home to Lord Elrond than the casual erasing by nature of his house. It seemed there were indeed some things that were beyond even his ability to mend. He lowered his head and wept.

***---***

“Gimli!”

“What?”

“Get that stone moved, boy! What are you doing, talking it into going to the cliff by itself?”

Gimli scowled at his father. “And I suppose you could do better!”

Glóin scowled back at him. “I can do anything better than you, you weakling lay about!”

“Fat obnoxious grog-sucker. Well if you’re so great, you can come help me then!”

When Legolas had first seen Gimli and his father together, he feared they were going to come to blows, or worse. He had since learned that swearing, insulting, and name-calling were signs of Dwarven affection. Judging from the stream of obscenities, Gimli and his father liked each other a lot.

The Elf perched delicately on an outcrop, watching the two Dwarfs, with more power than a dozen of his kin could manage, turn the huge boulder over and prepare it for cutting. Then he pretended to neither notice nor be impressed when Gimli turned to him, grinning with pride. Instead he daintily stepped away, moving with the light grace only an Elf could manage.

Gimli narrowed his eyes and grinned, then said under his breath; “Oh, we’re going to play that game today, are we Master Elf? Fine, you be the fair and fragile Elf-Prince, and in a little while when I get this stone split, I’ll come dirty you.”

Glóin came to stand beside Gimli, watching the Elf lightly cross the yard towards the cottage. “Skinny,” was his only comment.

“’Skinny’? I’ll have you know that ‘skinny’ Elf slew 41 Uruk-Hai at Helm’s Deep!”

“He’s still skinny.”

“He’s big enough to take the stuffing out of an old bastard like you.”

Glóin howled with laughter. “My axe and I could cut him down to size in no time! Besides, when did you start standing up for a nancing flower-picking Elf?”

“I happen to quite like that Elf!”

“He’s a bony little nancy-boy. Probably shrieks when he breaks a nail.”

“He does not!”

“Ohhhhhh… sweet on him, are we?”

The remark had been meant in jest, but it stopped Gimli cold. He tried to sputter a protest, but none would come. Finally he just stood, looking at his father helplessly, and knowing he’d been caught.

Glóin slowly set down his hammer, then crossed his arms and stared hard at his son. “You’re not.”

Gimli looked like the farmhouse dog caught with a h en in its mouth. He could not lie to his father. “Yes,” he finally admitted.

“Thranduil’s boy. And you.”

“Yes.”

“Thranduil know?”

“Yes.”

“Not happy?”

“No. He became the first Elf in history to have a heart attack.”

“But he’ll recover?”

“Oh yes.”

“So let me get this straight. You go off and get yourself mixed up with an Elven lover, becoming the first Dwarf in history, mind you, to do so. And not any Elf, but the son of the bastard who threw me into his dungeon, and in so doing gave aforementioned bastard a heart attack.”

“Yes.”

Glóin looked at his son for a long moment. A single tear worked its way down his face, and he sniffed. He clapped his son on the shoulder and said; “I’m so proud of you, my boy! But let’s not mention your Elfy toy-boy to the other Dwarfs. Now come along, the day is almost done. Let’s get cleaned up and see what’s for supper.”

***---***

Erestor vowed never to let anyone hold his child again. He had let Elladan pick Estorel up, and was the last he saw of either of them. Now after five hours he was fit to be tied. He was about to draw steel when he heard Rosie calling him from the Halfling encampment.

“Master Erestor! Your wee one is here!”

Erestor blew into the camp like a vengeful black spirit, bending to take his sleeping baby back from Rosie. At least, he told himself, Estorel appeared to be clean and fed.

Trust a Halfling to make certain a baby had a full belly.

He seated himself on the ground, cradling Estorel close. “I allowed Elladan to hold him, how came he to be here?”

“Oh Estorel has had quite a day! Veet and Liritar stole him from Elladan, Merry stole him from them, then Thranduil had him, then Mauburz, then Aragorn and Arwen, then Faramir, then Legolas, then Glóin, then finally he ended up here! He’s met more kinds of folk in an afternoon than I have my whole life.”

“It would have been nice if someone had let his poor distraught mother know where he was. I have been frantic.”

Rosie passed Erestor some tea. “Oh folk just like babies. Seems when I was just small, my aunt came to claim me for an afternoon, and I was gone for a week.”

Erestor did not like the concept of his child being out of his sight for a week. He glanced up as he heard Pippin approaching. The Halfling bent over to peer at Estorel.

“Hello there, ready to make the rounds again, are we?”

He reached for the baby, and Erestor shocked himself by spitting like a cat. It was quite effective; Pippin jumped back as though he had been burned. Erestor raised one eyebrow and smiled, wondering what other talents his Plains-Elf heritage had granted him. Pippin eyed him warily.

“Right,” he said, “I’ll just, uh, go wash up for dinner then.”

Rosie sat down near Erestor with her own tea. “So will you be coming to the party tonight?”

“Party?”

“Oh nothing fancy. Some of the folk gathered here thought it might to nice to mingle, share tales. You know, just spread a little goodwill. Besides, I’m dying to find out if all those tales of Sam’s are true.”

Erestor glanced up as he saw Glorfindel moving towards him. He smiled. “I wonder if some tale-tellers even recall the truth.”

***---***

It was a good party.

Despite the fact that Thranduil was still not speaking to his son, there was a m erry time had by all. Even Elrond at last emerged from his hiding place, taking a glass of wine and seating himself with his arm about his daughter. They ate and drank, swapping tales. Mauburz was surprisingly adept at tale telling, and told a story about trying to hide from an Elven patrol by lying in a ditch with a branch over herself that had several listeners crying with laughter. She ended the tale by looking around and admitting; “Yeah, well, funny now.”

Glóin leaned over and asked Gimli; “Is that an Orc?”

“No,” said Gimli. “It’s an ugly Elf.”

“Me not ugly!”

“Well you’re not as pretty as me!” said Gimli.

Mauburz laughed. “That true! No one should be cursed with pretty like Dwarf.”

Legolas laughed. “Well I think Gimli is quite handsome.”

“Sad,” said Mauburz. “Not knew Elves go blind.”

“He’s deaf, too!” said Gimli. “He likes my singing.”

Aragorn smiled at his friend. “I think perhaps he just likes you.”

“And his grog,” said Legolas, filling his goblet from a wineskin Gimli passed him.

“Grog?!” said Glorfindel. “Pass that this way!”

Legolas did, and in doing so managed to slide off his seat and end up sitting on the ground. “I may be feeling the effects of this stuff,” he admitted.

A tall figure stepped up to the fire and sat down. “Am I late?” asked Haldir.

“You are indeed!” said Glorfindel. “Where were you?”

“Convincing Bramble to go to sleep.” He poured himself some miruvor.

“And your love?” asked Thranduil.

“Rabbit does not care for gatherings.”

“Rabbit does not exist,” said Amrun. Elrohir sat close to him, one arm about his shoulders.

“Then what screamed a greeting to us?” asked Elrond.

“A passing warg.”

Haldir smiled. “He exists. He just prefers solitude.” He glanced over at Legolas. “Prince Legolas, you are, as they say in Rohan, hammered.”

“Absolutely,” he said, his eyes wide and glassy.

Rúmil took Legolas’ cup and had a sip, then coughed. “That’s awful!”

“It grows on you,” said Legolas. “Try it again!”

“In a m oment, when my vision clears.”

Elrond leaned forward and took the cup from Rúmil and tried the contents. It burned his nostrils, throat and stomach, and made his eyes water, but he had to admit, there was something compelling about the taste. He wiped his streaming eyes. “Actually, it’s not bad.”

The company laughed. Elrond passed the cup back to Rúmil, who had another sip. He topped it up, then passed it to Faramir. Elrond regarded the strange man.

“And who might you be?”

Sam spoke up. “Oh this is Faramir. Faramir, steward of Gondor, this is Lord Elrond of Imladris.”

“Well met,” said Elrond. “Any friend of Estel’s is welcome here.”

“I thank you my Lord.” Faramir looked at Aragorn. “Estel? We’re up to, what, fourteen names now?”

“Fourteen?” said Glorfindel. “No there must be a few more names than that!”

Merry began ticking them off on his fingers. “Strider, Longshanks, Elessar, Estel, Aragorn…”

“A few we heard in Bree we’re not repeating,” added Pippin.

“So what is your name, Strider?” asked Sam.

“I confess, I haven’t a clue,” said Aragorn.

“Gladys,” said Glorfindel.

“Gladys is nice,” said Arwen.

Aragorn was about to protest the possible addition of ‘Gladys’ to his already lengthy list of names, when Gimli, Legolas, and several Dwarfs gathered a short distance away began singing an off-colour comic song.

“Once came a Warrior, fresh from the tavern,
Reeling, before his King he did come.
And when he had risen, still he was drunken,
And these words he slurred unto his King;

‘I was shot on the war field, and smashed in the war.
And the booze has been flowing all night!
Tho’ some say my wits will grow rusted and dull,
I vow to drink like a mad dog tonight…”

Faramir rose to go sing with them, as did all those who had fought in the so recently passed battle. It was a tune they had heard many times from the common soldiers, and even Merry and Pippin went to stand with the group and sing. Soon the night was filled with the bitter-sweet humor that only those who had been in a war could understand, and the voices of Elves, Men, Halflings and Dwarfs sang together for perhaps the only time in the history of Arda.

***---***

Rúmil made his way as carefully as an Elf as drunk as he was could down the rocky path. He wove slightly, pausing frequently to regain his balance, then continuing on. He finally reached the river, and he sat beside it. He drank some of the cold, clear water, then rinsed his face and hair, trying to regain his senses. Finally he removed his tunic and splashed himself with the silvery water.

No good, he was still blind, staggering drunk. “No more Dwarf grog for me,” he said softly. “Never again.”

He sat, listening to the river, feeling the water drip down his back and shoulders. He pushed his long wet hair out of his face, then paused. He heard something: a voice, singing very softly. He could hardly make out the words. He managed to get to his feet, pulling his tunic back over his cold skin, and moved towards the sound.

The Elf was standing by the bank of the river. The green dragon was there as well, and the Elf was singing to it, very softly in Quenyan, with a voice broken with sadness:

“Im pela I luine an sinome lye caite tenn-nin,
Ar iluve du ve I isil na oro im pela ar nalla adra….”

Rúmil stepped closer. He could not tell who the Elf was; he did not seem to be any he knew. He seemed broken by loss, and rather small as he stood, stroking the creature’s long muzzle and singing to it. Both the dragon and Elf looked as Rúmil stepped on a small twig and snapped it. The dragon briefly raised up a h uge crest of golden spines, but once she recognized him, she lowered her spines and wandered off in search of fish.

Rúmil lowered his head, embarrassed at his drunken clumsiness. “I am very sorry to intrude,” he said quietly, “I came only for some water.”

The Elf stepped closer. Rúmil knew he should know him, but the grog was clouding his senses. He was not even certain he had spoken now, wondering if he was in a dream. The other Elf stopped before him, and said, chiding gently; “You’re drunk.”

“I am well beyond drunk, mellon. The grog of the Dwarfs is potent stuff.”

“Indeed it is. I assure you, I do not make it a h abit to sing sad songs to dragons. I believe I drank three full goblets.”

“Five, myself.”

“You conduct yourself well.”

Rúmil raised his head and smiled woozily. “As do you. Well we may be so far into our cups we can no longer see the rim, but we are still Elves.”

The other Elf smiled. Rúmil tried to concentrate on his face, to see who this was. However, though his tongue still worked, his eyes most certainly did not. He felt the Elf help him to sit, and together they sat beside the river, watching the silver water run, their arms linked.

“For whom do you grieve?” Rúmil asked softly.

The other Elf was silent a m oment, then said; “No one, any longer.” He touched Rúmil’s hair. “You are wet and shivering.”

“That is what comes of splashing in the river.” Rúmil leaned against the Elf and smiled at him. “Care to warm me?”

The other Elf seemed briefly affronted, then laughed. “Such an invitation I have not had in a long time.” He touched Rúmil’s face. “I would, indeed.”

They kissed, falling somewhat clumsily to the ground, and laughing. Rúmil opened the Elf’s fine silk robe and kissed his chest, smelling an exotic, yet very familiar scent. He kissed the warm flesh, then permitted the Elf to push him onto his back and undress him.

They made love on the bank, clumsily, laughing at themselves and each other. It began to rain, and Rúmil yanked the other Elf’s robe over them to keep the rain off. Finally, cold, wet, muddy, and spent, they huddled beneath the shelter of a stone outcrop. Together, under the silk robe, they fell asleep.

***---***

Haldir made his way to the pond, following a path he could hardly see. He was not drunk, but it was a m oonless night, and even Elven vision had its limits. He stepped carefully over to a small waterfall and, ducking his head, stepped behind it and vanished. Rabbit had found the little cave quite some time ago, and since Imladris had collapsed, had been living there.

Haldir paused on the soft, mossy floor, unfastening his cloak. This done, he removed it, then walked over to the bed Rabbit had made for Bramble. She was curled up in it now, deeply asleep, her little arms firmly clutching her Hobbit-doll. Haldir bent to kiss her, then folded his long cloak and put it over her.

He touched her hair, a little saddened by how quickly she was growing up. Her babyhood had been over almost before it had begun. That was how it was with children of her bloodline, Rabbit had told him. Certainly Haldir would not exchange his daughter for anything, but he found himself envying just a little Erestor’s small helpless babe. He had wanted a tiny infant who needed him, who would sleep in his arms and cry for a bottle. Instead he had a very small version of his distant and overly-independent lover. Haldir would also not trade him for anything. But he found himself wondering sometimes whether he was needed by either of them.

He felt Rabbit come to stand behind him, and he smiled. He turned to face him, reaching out to take his large, lean body in his arms. Rabbit moved close, returning the embrace.

“Did you enjoy seeing your friends?” he asked softly.

“I did,” said Haldir, moving his hands into Rabbit’s long hair. “But it would have made the evening complete had my family been there.”

“I am sorry I did not come, for your sake anyway,” said Rabbit. “But I am not quite ready yet to indulge in parties.”

“You need do nothing that does not please you, not for my sake nor any other’s,” said Haldir. “But I do not like leaving you behind to make merry.”

Rabbit smiled, something he did too seldom. “I saw you with them, singing. I would have joined in song myself, if it did not cause most of your companions to fall to their knees in fear and reach for their weapons.”

Haldir kissed Rabbit, then walked with him to the small, natural chamber that was their room. He sank onto the bed of furs Rabbit had made, gently drawing his lover down with him. “You indulge my strange ways much.”

“As you do mine. I doubt many others would care for me, though they seem to desire the chance to gaze upon me.”

“Do you wonder at that? You who are the only true Elf of this land, and as ancient as the land itself?”

Rabbit shrugged. “I am only Rabbit.”

Haldir laughed. “So you often say. But again I tell you, that you are not ‘only Rabbit.’”

“I am not comfortable being sought as a wise elder. Though Aragorn I quite like. He came to me and asked me about Númenor.”

“And what did you say about it?”

Rabbit shrugged. “I told him what he wished to hear, as well as some things he did not wish to hear. But he listens, even if the truth displeases him, and that is what makes him great. It takes wisdom to learn.”

“I have said often he is more Elf than Man. I would he lived as long as we do.” Haldir rose from the simple bed and undressed, then sank back down upon it. The old injury from Helm’s Deep complained, and he shifted, trying to appease it.

Rabbit shed his torn breeches and lay beside him. “Does your back trouble you?”

“A little.”

Rabbit smiled slightly. “’A little’? Is that all? You who were cleft nearly in two by an Orc, yet wandered with me for a year all around Middle Earth ere you mentioned it pained you?” Rabbit lowered his head and kissed him softly.

“You did not escape the Deep unharmed either. Do you never feel your broken hip?”

“I have broken that hip before, and other bones. I am old. I feel aches that are caused by nothing, never mind those caused by something.”

“Then we can warm each other, and ease our aches together,” said Haldir.

Rabbit pulled the heavy quilt he had found and cleaned over them, then drew Haldir close. He growled quietly, and used one powerful arm to pin Haldir to the bed, then kissed him. Haldir laughed.

“I am not prey to be subdued!”

Rabbit kissed him again, gently this time, then opened his jaws and very slowly closed them around Haldir’s throat, the teeth just barely scraping his fair flesh. Haldir raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Behave…” he warned.

Rabbit made a snort of derision, then raised his head to kiss Haldir again. He moved his arm from Haldir’s chest, melting against him, softening, running his hand caressingly over him. His green eyes glinted as he asked quietly, “Better?”

“Much, thank you.”

Haldir watched the look in Rabbit’s eyes with trepidation, waiting for his lover to decide what he wanted to do. Mischief won out, and Rabbit lunged, jaws first, for his lover’s throat. Haldir caught his head between his hands, trying to hold him off, then sighed and gave in, permitting himself to be chewed and nibbled.

The gnawing gave way to kissing, and velvet-soft swipes of a tongue moving over Haldir’s flesh. Rabbit moved his large body over his lover’s, raising his head to kiss him passionately. His heavy black hair slid down, softly licking its way down his shoulder to fall against Haldir’s face. Haldir reached up to run his fingers through it, then slid his arm around him. He ran his hand over the broad back, feeling the ripple and flex of muscle, then allowed his palm to come to rest on the small of his back.

Rabbit continued to kiss him, his face, his jaw, then down to his throat. He growled very softly, his large hands stroking over Haldir’s body. He pushed himself back, moving further down in order to kiss his way across his collarbone, his breast, down to his flat, hard midriff. Again he moved down, then rose up on all fours. He lowered his head, his shaggy black hair falling down around his face. He kissed the fine skin on Haldir’s lower midriff, his breath softly touching his flesh. He gently stroked one large hand down the outside of Haldir’s thigh. Then lowered his head and drew his stiff penis into his mouth.

He felt Haldir shiver, raising one leg up to rest on his broad shoulder. Rabbit continued to stroke his hand over his thigh as he swallowed down the hard shaft, his nose brushing against the stiff pubic hair. The powerful, musky scent of his lover aroused him further, and he became a little rougher, letting his teeth lightly scrape over the sensitive flesh, growling quietly. Once he bit a little too hard, and he felt Haldir jerk reflexively. Rabbit reminded himself not to get carried away, but scent was a powerful stimulant for him, and he soon found himself losing control.

He drew his lips off of Haldir before he became too rough, then lay over top of him. Their lips met and they kissed, embracing each other, their hands caressing heated flesh. Rabbit felt Haldir draw his other leg up, and, with little grace or preparation, he entered him.

Haldir gasped, not entirely with passion. Rabbit could be a gentle lover, but in the fall and early spring, his usual softness was replaced by an animal roughness. Haldir suspected that, for Rabbit’s folk, this was breeding season. Certainly that was the time of year when Rabbit became much more interested in love-making, and the time of year when, one cold moonlit night, he had pinned Haldir to the ground and had him penetrate him. Haldir had certainly known his lover was capable of conceiving, and they had discussed having a family. He had also assumed he would have a little more say in when said family was conceived. But Rabbit did things in his own time. However, having convinced Rabbit to wait a while before they had their next child meant that Haldir occasionally was subjected to what could only be called ‘rough matings’.

Rabbit growled, a little more intensely this time, then began thrusting, his movements steady and intense. He heard Haldir cry out, and he slowed, easing back and becoming more gentle. He kissed him, then said softly; “I will be more careful.”

Haldir was caught between annoyance and passion. “We are making love, not sparring! A little more parry and a little less thrust, if you please!”

Rabbit laughed, then kissed his throat. But he did soften his love-making, and Haldir finally allowed himself to relax and take pleasure in it.

They made love for a long time, Rabbit occasionally having to pause to keep his mind on his lover. But when at last he felt Haldir increase his hold on him, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his control began to slip. Then when he heard his lover utter a strangled cry, and felt the hot wetness of his semen across his belly, he lost his senses. The scent of it alone was enough to drive through conscious thought and into his basic nature. He snarled and bit, driving himself hard into him. He held onto the torn and bleeding flesh of Haldir’s shoulder with his teeth and drove into him, shuddering and gasping as his own orgasm completely overwhelmed him. He snarled and thrust again, still tearing flesh. He held him so hard it was all Haldir could do to draw breath, and finally, in a desperate act of self-preservation, he struck him a glancing blow. Rabbit pulled back, more surprised than hurt, then lowered his head and gasped quietly. Finally, slowly, he relaxed, easing his hold on him.

The two lay in a tangle of limbs on the bed. Finally, Rabbit pulled back, his lips as well as his groin bloody. He watched, his movements much like a chastised dog, as Haldir slowly, carefully sat up. For a time the two said nothing.

“I am sorry,” Rabbit said quietly, his voice husky.

Haldir picked up his discarded shirt and held it against his bleeding shoulder. “I am not angry,” he said. “Your body tells you to conceive, and I tell you not yet. There is bound to be some reaction to such a conflict.”

Rabbit moved closer, reaching out carefully, as though uncertain Haldir would allow him to touch him. He brushed the back of his hand over Haldir’s cheek, and said again; “I am sorry.”

Haldir reached out and put his hand over Rabbit’s. “There is nothing to forgive, though perhaps in the future we could try this with me on top and you tied up.”

Rabbit grinned, then kissed him. “You on top without the ropes.” He moved closer still, embracing him, resting his head against Haldir’s arm. “Shall I go for Lord Elrond?”

“No!” He said, a little more forcefully than he intended, then looked at Rabbit. The large Elf had drawn back, was almost cringing in apology and submission. Haldir felt any traces of anger within himself leave, and he reached out to touch his face.

“Dear Rabbit. Do not be upset. I am not injured badly, and I am not angry.”

The yellow-green eyes still glittered wetly, and there was a light in them Haldir had never seen before. He tried to place it, then suddenly realized it was fear.

The understanding shocked him. He had seen Rabbit eye folk warily, but never had he shown fear. Not even at Helm’s Deep, when the Orcs had come over the walls and began hacking down Elves like so much firewood. But he was afraid now. As Haldir looked at him, puzzled, he heard Rabbit swallow nervously.

“I could not bear to have you angry with me,” he said quietly. “I love you. There is little that walks this world that frightens me, Haldir. But the thought of walking it alone once more terrifies me more than I have words to describe.”

Haldir reached out to embrace him. He ran his hand over the tangled black hair. “My dearest friend. It will take far more than this to cause us to part.” He kissed him gently, then drew him down to the bed, and pulled the covers over them both.

He felt Rabbit snuggle close, settling beside him in his usual way, with his head upon his midriff, one arm across his abdomen. Haldir smiled, then closed his eyes, sighing contentedly as he stroked Rabbit’s hair.

Perhaps he was needed after all.

***---***

Rúmil was awakened by the curious probings of a green muzzle. He forced his sticky eyes opened, then patted the scaly green snout.

“I am well, you silly beast! There is no need to sniff me. Go find fish or eat a virgin or whatever it is you dragons do.”

The dragon sniffed him one last time, then turned and roamed away. Rúmil turned to embraced his nameless lover, then froze dead.

‘Nuit Sensuelle,’ he suddenly recalled, remembering the name of that exotic yet oh-so-familiar scent. And even naked, muddy and hungover, the Elf beside him still possessed that cool dignity.

Rúmil swallowed nervously, then said quietly, “Good morning, Lord Elrond.”

Elrond gave him a familiar slight smile. “Good morning, Rúmil.”

Both fell silent. Rúmil was distinctly uncomfortable. Finally he said in a h urried tone; “I would like you to know I do not make it a h abit to drink and then give myself to any Elf I find.”

“Nor do I,” said Elrond in his calm, quiet voice.

Rúmil looked back at him with a completely befuddled expression. “I did not mean to imply…”

“Rúmil.”

“Yes my Lord?”

“Calm down.”

“Yes my Lord.”

“And given the circumstances, I believe we can dispense with the title.”

“Yes my… Elrond.”

Elrond smiled at him. “You did nothing you need to be ashamed of. And I very much appreciated your company.” His expression saddened a little. “Were I of a m ind to take a lover, I would seek it again.”

“Lady Celebrian…”

“Has unbound herself from me, and forsaken her immortal life.”

“I am sorry,” said Rúmil softly. “I did not know.”

“No one does, not even my sons and daughter. Not even Erestor, who knows more than he admits.”

Rúmil moved closer. “I am sorry. It seems unfair, to me, that you who look after so many have no one to look after you. A confidante, and companion.”

“Someday I shall be of a m ind to take another lover. Until then I have no such person.”

Rúmil grinned suddenly, tossing his long hair back. “You, my Lord, require a catamite.”

Elrond looked at Rúmil as though the younger Elf had lost his mind. “A what?” he asked, laughing.

“A catamite! Surely you know what one is!”

“Well yes, back when Gil-galad was alive I used to be one! Oh by the Valar I do not believe I said that aloud.”

Rúmil laughed, then moved closer to Elrond. “Then will you not grant me such a position? I believe I have already shown myself capable.”

“There are two problems with that suggestion. Firstly, your brothers would not approve. Second… Rúmil, my heart is still broken. It has not yet mended enough to give to another.”

Rúmil smiled at him. “I do not ask for what you can not give. I am offering you someone in whom to confide, and a warm body for when the nights seem cold and empty. As for my brothers, I am certainly old enough to decide for myself what I wish to do.”

“So I see,” said Elrond softly. He gently touched Rúmil’s high cheekbones, then trailed his fingers over his face, down his throat. “This offer tempts me greatly, but I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Nor I you. I only wished to ease your burden.”

Elrond gazed long at the younger Elf. He knew well how damaging this folly could be. Perhaps he would meet someone else, and break Rúmil’s heart. No matter what their arrangement, sharing a bed was bound to forge strong emotions. And what if he came to love Rúmil, only to find Rúmil had found another? It seemed this could only end in chaos and hurt. But then, perhaps an act of complete folly was just what he needed to clear away the last shattered bits of his love for Celebrian. Too long had he grieved, and waited in darkness. A bit of utter nonsense may well do him good.

“I accept this arrangement,” he said softly.

“And will I be presented with a list of my duties?”

“I shall have Erestor draw one up as soon as he is able.”

“Very good, my Lord.”

Elrond considered Rúmil for a while, then said; “This is utter folly.”

“Well as dear Bilbo once said; ‘One cannot be sensible all the time.’”

“He was a wise little Hobbit.” Elrond drew Rúmil close and kissed him. Together they lay down in the soft black earth.