The Last Homely House
Chapter Eighteen

Rating: R
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: Rumil and Gaelemir each get a shock, Glorfindel gets a visit, and Ilinuil gets blue.

There is an accompaning illustration of the beautiful but lonely Ilinuil to go with this chapter, drawn by the wonderful Pira.

Erestor’s affection for the five mortal girls Elrond had rescued was limited at best, and when their families were finally found, he actually danced on his desk in glee at the prospect of bidding them farewell. One by one, three of the girls left, reunited with their parents and siblings. But as the days passed, it became very obvious that two of the girls had no home to return to. The two girls, named Rosemary and Grace, now sat in Elrond’s great office, plainly frightened, holding onto each other as they looked at the tall Elves. Elrond sat in a chair before them, while Rúmil was in his usual place behind his Lord.

“You may speak, children,” said Elrond, “we are not here to harm you.”

They looked at one another, then finally Grace spoke. “Can’t we just stay here with you, Lord Elrond?”

“Don’t you wish to go home?” he asked.

“No,” they both said.

“Mortals…” sighed Erestor.

“And why not, children?” asked Elrond.

Rosemary thrust her small hands between her knees, her long brown hair coming loose from her braids.

“We were sold to those men you found us with,” said Grace. “Father didn’t want daughters, so when mother died of flu in the winter, he sold us.”

Erestor watched the vein in Elrond’s forehead pulse. “Sold you,” he said, as though he was not certain he had heard correctly.

Rosemary nodded. Grace said; “That’s why we’d rather just stay with you, if we can. Please?”

Erestor smiled at Elrond, and said in Elvish; “You have raised Mortals before.”

“Accelerated hormonal little out-of-control…”

“Yes but they are so cute when they are small.”

“Erestor, your famed sarcasm is not welcome right now.”

“Yes, Lord Elrond.”

Elrond returned his attention to the two small Mortal girls. “Very well, you may stay here. I certainly will not cast you adrift with no one to care for you. You will continue to live in Imladris, and to be educated by Master Erestor, since he seems to have grown rather fond of you.”

The two girls turned their eyes to the tall, black-haired Elf, with no less than three carrion crows perched on his shoulders. One cawed at them.

“Really?” said Rosemary. “We can stay?”

“Yes you may stay. But only if you stop assisting the princesses Veet and Liritar in their tormenting of Prince Legolas.”

“Yes Lord Elrond,” they said meekly.

“Very well. Now I believe the two of you are to meet Haldir for archery lessons.”

The two girls departed, and Elrond sat back in his chair.

“Sold. Like cattle. How can a man sell his own children? If I ever find this man, I shall do something to him so ugly I cannot even think of what it may be. Even at their worst I could not have done something so cruel to one of my own.”

“We shall have to find someone to act as foster-parents,” said Erestor.

“I take it you and Fin do not care to volunteer for the position?”

“Not with an infant, blind husband and Arda’s Oldest Elfling already to care for.”

“How is Fin’s vision?”

Erestor seated himself on the embroidered couch. “There is no vision to speak of. In bright daylight he sees slight shadows out of the left eye, but he is still blind.” He reached up to idly stroke the breast feathers of Glorfunkle, and the crow nibbled his fingers gently, making soft and rather un-crow like sounds. He smiled at Elrond, then looked at the Galadhrim standing patiently behind the Elven Lord. Holding back a grin, he said; “Oh and I have been looking into assigning you a new personal guard. I was thinking of Amrun. He is very capable.”

“Yes he did serve rather well while Rúmil was injured,” said Elrond.

Erestor watched Rúmil open his mouth to ask why he was being sent from his Lord’s side, then recalled it was not his place to speak while on duty. He was positively seething at the news, but managed to hold his composure. Erestor himself was nearly fit to burst as he watched Elrond pull forth Rúmil’s catamite contract.

“Then there is this bit of folly. Destroy that, would you please Erestor? Can’t imagine what I was thinking. Oh, and see about having Rúmil’s yurt dismantled.”

Rumil could not stand anymore. The pain in his voice was quite evident, and Erestor feared they may have taken the joke too far.

“Why are you doing this? Haven’t I done everything for you? I’ve watched over you, given you my life and my heart! Why…?”

Elrond rose to his feet and turned to face Rúmil. He gently took his hand and said softly; “Rúmil, you must realize, that you cannot be a catamite and a guard if we are bound.”

Erestor watched the young Elf blink, then shake his head, trying to assimilate what had just been said. “What? Bound?”

“If you will have me.”

“Have… you? Bound?” Rúmil looked at Erestor, then Elrond. Then he crumpled up and dropped as if he had been shot. Erestor rose and came to stand beside his Lord.

“Congratulations, your Lordship. You have just delivered Arda’s first lethal marriage proposal.”

“Mind the sarcasm, Erestor, please. And help me get him off the floor.”

***---***

Glorfindel sat up, suddenly sensing all was not quite right with his surroundings. He had been dozing in a chair before the cottage, enjoying the unseasonably warm June day. Now he stood up, trying to determine what disturbed him. He could not see, but he was a highly trained warrior, and he had other senses. He froze, poised like an animal, listening.

He suddenly leapt up and kicked out, feeling his boot connect with flesh and bone. There was a loud ‘OOF!’, and then the sound of a body hitting the ground with great force several feet away. He listened, trying to determine what he had hit.

He heard coughing and gasping, then a voice squeaked; “What kind of a greeting was THAT!?”

“Who are you?” Fin demanded.

He heard the being he had kicked stagger to his feet, gasping for breath. “It’s Ecthelion you blind murderer! I just got free of Mandos’ Halls, do you wish to send me back?”

“Thel? Thel is that really you?”

He heard the Elf come towards him. He felt gentle hands on his shoulders, then soft lips kissed him. “It’s me.”

Glorfindel wrapped his arms around his friend and immediately began to cry. “Thel I never thought I would see you again! Well I still never may but… how is this possible? How are you here?”

“It is a long tale my friend.”

“Thel. After all this time…”

Ithilian walked up to the pair and said nothing, watching the two warriors cry on one another. Finally Ecthelion reached out a hand to the smith and pulled him close. “’Twas all Ithilian’s doing. Let us go inside, and I shall tell you all about it.”

***---***

“Hot,” said Silmaril.

“TOO hot,” said Grace.

Lindir looked at his favorite toy. “I think Miss Goose is melting,” he grumbled.

“I wish we could go swimming,” said Syrith.

Emerald shook her head. “Step-Nana Mauburz says we mustn’t go to the river alone, because of the bad men. We have to stay in the encampment or find an adult.”

Silmaril looked at Lindir, but realized he did not quite qualify as an adult. “That’s not fair,” she said. “All the adults are busy.”

“Well let’s go to the kitchen-tent,” said Grace. “Maybe there is someone there who is not busy.”

Ilinuil had been standing in the kitchen tent, watching and listening to the five Elflings. He was alone in the tent. The other Elves had duties to attend, and Gaelemir was off fawning over Frost. Ilinuil had come there to perhaps find someone to speak with, to take the edge off of the intense loneliness that shadowed his soul. As he listened to the children bemoan the heat, he put his hands on the hot cooking stove to warm them. Then he began idly putting ingredients into a large bowl: milk, eggs, sugar, and vanilla. He took a whisk and beat them all together, then at last set the bowl down on the counter. He blew softly on it, and smiled as the liquid froze, delicate patterns of frost appearing on the bowl.

The children dragged themselves into the tent, then paused as they saw Ilinuil, leaning on the counter, daintily eating something out of a large bowl. They felt a little nervous around the unfamiliar Elf. Finally, Silmaril stepped forward, and shyly bid him good day. She felt her insides turn to squishy goo as he looked at her with those soft, silver-blue eyes and smiled slightly.

“Mae Govannen, little ones. I fear supper will not be done for hours.” He licked his spoon, then dipped it back into the bowl.

Syrith was the youngest, and therefore the boldest. “What are you eating?” he asked, climbing onto a chair to peer at the contents of the bowl.

“Oh, this? Something my Nana taught me to make, a long time ago. Ice cream.” He passed the child a spoon. “Care for some?”

The other four drew closer, curiosity over coming their shyness. Silmaril picked up a spoon and tried a little of the substance. “Oh it’s wonderful! And cold! How did you make something so cold on a hot day?”

“That,” he said, “is a secret.” He looked at the spoon he held. It was turning a strange colour, and he lowered it, so the children would not see as it crumbled. “Now did I hear you say you were looking for an adult to take you swimming?”

They nodded, too busy wolfing down ice cream to answer.

“Very well. Eat your ice cream. I must do something, but I will be back in a few minutes and will take you swimming.”

Ilinuil stepped out of the tent, and looked up at the sun. Then he began quietly walking to his tent.

***---***

“On your feet, Rúmil, there’s a good fellow. Erestor pour me some of the brandy, will you?”

Erestor poured a glass of brandy, then brought it over to his Lord as Elrond got Rúmil up. The Galadhrim had a glazed look in his eyes, and was standing like a new foal. Elrond took the glass and poured some of the liquid into Rúmil’s mouth.

“Better my love?”

Rúmil still looked like someone had just smacked him with a club. He looked at Elrond, and said quietly; “Bonded? With me?”

“Yes. With you.”

Erestor grabbed Rúmil’s arm as he began to list dangerously. Elrond set the glass down and gently took the younger Elf into his arms. “You’re all right, my love, I have you.”

“Elrond, much as I approve of the concept of treating one’s troops well, are you not carrying the notion a little far?”

Erestor turned to look at the handsome blonde Elf who had just entered the office. He crossed his arms. “Hello, Amaris. Had I known you were coming I’d have thrown a wake.”

“Dear Erestor, so nice to see you. Here, I brought you a gift.” He passed Erestor a small scratching post, then walked over to Elrond and Rúmil. “Drunk on duty, is he?”

“He is not drunk, he is just a little over whelmed,” said Elrond.

“Ah well I have been known to have that effect when I walk into a room.”

Elrond got Rúmil down on the couch, then turned to take Amaris’ hand. “How are you, my friend.”

“In a state of despair and disgust. I am sorry to pop in on you unannounced, but I had hoped to spread a little family unity. And since the children are here, and their father is behaving like a constipated warg, I thought I would come look in on them.”

“Your presence in my home is always a delight.”

“Of course it is. Now toss that drunk onto the floor, send the skinny black librarian out for some miruvor and we shall chat.”

Elrond watched Erestor raise the scratching post threateningly, and hastily stepped between him and Amaris. “Erestor, why do you not go spend the afternoon with Glorfindel. I am sure he would love to have you all to himself for a change.”

Erestor bowed his head, and quietly left. Elrond sat next to Rúmil, gently touching his face.

“Are you well, my love?”

“I’m… surprised.”

Elrond kissed him softly. “Just rest here then.”

“Oh, is this the Galadhrim Thranduil mentioned?” asked Amaris.

“Yes. Amaris, former King of Mirkwood, this is Rúmil of Lothlórien.”

“An honour, young Elf. Elrond what have you done to him?”

“I proposed.”

“Ah. That does explain the green complexion.”

Elrond shot his friend a look. “Amaris, could I trouble you to fetch that glass of brandy from the table?”

“Oh, by all means. I traveled from Mirkwood for this very purpose.” Amaris turned to get the small glass from the little table near the window. He reached for the glass, then paused, gazing at something out the window. Elrond noticed as he froze in his steps.

“Amaris? Is something wrong?”

Amaris did not speak at first. At last he said; “Elrond, I knew your valley was fair, but did not realize the Valar themselves came to enjoy it.”

Elrond rose to his feet, crossing the room to stand beside Amaris. He spied the slender frame of Ilinuil as the Elf gracefully, slowly, made his way to his tent.

“That is Ilinuil the Grey, Nazgûl -Hunter,” said Elrond.

“THAT was Ilinuil the Grey?! He’s so… slight of build. He looks like nothing more than… a fair and frail dancer. A slight and fragile creature, born to grace the parlors of the Kings of Old. That such beauty should posses such power!”

“His demeanor is of a shy and gentle nature,” said Elrond. “Yet I have watched him spar with my best warriors, and none were a match for him.” He smiled. “He is strikingly fair, is he not? They are calling him the Child of Lórien, saying the Vala of Dreams alone could have made one graced with such beauty.”

“Elrond you must acquaint me with this Silmaril in Elven form!”

“Amaris, the line to Ilinuil’s heart is a long one indeed. And I cannot leave my love to fall off the couch.”

“Fine. I shall go introduce myself.”

Amaris left the office quickly. Elrond sighed heavily, then came to sit beside Rúmil. He gently drew him against himself, then the pair settled on the wide couch, holding one another in contented silence.

***---***

Ilinuil stepped into his tent, and looked around. There was no one there, and he sighed in relief. He did not wish to see Gaelemir. He smiled as he noticed Elentar had left a wide brazier of live coals on the floor. Dear, considerate Elentar. If he had any idea how badly his younger brother was treated by Gaelemir, there would be a kinslaying. For his sake, Ilinuil mentioned none of the harsh treatment he had suffered at Gaelemir’s hands, no matter how often he had been tempted. He did not wish to see anything bad befall Elentar.

Ilinuil began removing his clothes, setting them down upon the bed, the fabric crackling with cold. Then he stood naked in the room. He stretched his lithe frame, then removed the ties from his long hair, shaking it loose. Then he stepped towards the brazier.

Amaris saw the slender Elf enter his tent, and paused, wondering if he should approach him in his personal quarters. A last he convinced himself to go forward. Reaching the tent, he pulled back the flap and stepped in, stopping dead.

The Elf was naked, his silver hair flowing down his graceful back. He blushed furiously, his jaw opening and hanging loose. His brain told him to exit quickly, but he could not take his eyes from the beautiful warrior. However admiration quickly turned to fear and horror as he saw him step into the fire, and the flames shot up to envelope him.

“No!” he shouted, and grabbed his arm. Then he screamed as his hands were burned, and he backed up. Ilinuil spun to see who had accosted him, then leapt back, snatching up a cloak to cover himself, and cowering on the bed.

Amaris looked at his hands. They were burned, it was true, but not by fire. As he stared at the flesh, he suddenly realized he had frostbite. He looked, confused, at the fair silver creature on the bed.

“Who are you? Why have you entered my home unannounced?” demanded Ilinuil.

“I… I am most sorry. I saw you step into the flame, I feared you would be burned!”

“You saw?” The grey eyes filled with tears. Amaris watched, astounded, as the tears froze on his face. “You saw?!”

“Yes, I…”

“Please, do not tell anyone. Please I implore you, tell no one of this, I will do anything you desire if you do not tell.”

“I have no desire to do you harm, I wished only to make your acquaintance. It is I who am sorry, I had no right to do this.” He looked at his hands, and the red welts, then to Ilinuil. “I was not so wrong when I compared you to a Silmaril.”

“I assure you, any similarity between myself and one of those sacred gems is coincidence.”

“Tell me what you are. Please. I do not wish you harm, truly. I am Amaris of Mirkwood, a friend of Lord Elrond’s. I came to visit my brother’s children.”

Ilinuil wiped frozen crystals from his eyes. “Amaris? You are the companion of Gil-galad, returned from the Halls, are you not?”

“Yes, that is right.”

“I am Ilinuil the Grey.”

Amaris sat down slowly, keeping his eyes on the ethereal beauty of the Elf before him. “I have heard of you. You are a great warrior. Your deeds are sung far and wide. But never did I hear you had the power to freeze those who interfered with you.”

‘Tis no power, Amaris of Mirkwood. ‘Tis a stain, and if I told you what I am you would shun me is disgust.”

Amaris shook his head. “None who are as fair as you could be evil.”

Ilinuil looked surprised. “You think me fair?”

“You speak to one who has seen the Silmarils. And compared to you, they are but grey stones.”

“Yet beauty may conceal a foul core.”

“I do not believe you are foul. You said you would do anything I desire if I did not tell your secret. Please, I desire only to stand in the light of your beauty.”

Ilinuil smiled wryly. “Then you will have to share me with five children, I promised to watch over them while they swam.”

“Two pair of eyes are more effective when minding children, I have found. But tell me, please, why were you standing in the fire?”

Ilinuil stood up and slowly dropped the cloak. As Amaris watched it drop, he saw that it was stiff and frozen.

“I must warm myself twice a day in the flames, else I could not dwell among others. I would become too cold for any to approach. Watch.”

Amaris watched as the beautiful Elf stepped into the fire, and once more the flames leapt up. He was forced back by the heat, but Ilinuil was unharmed. At last he left the fire, then took out clean clothes and dressed.

“Now,” he said softly, “I will cause no harm if one should touch me.”

“So it is true,” said Amaris. “You are the child of a Vala.”

“Child of a Vala? Nay. I fear my parentage is not so lofty.” Ilinuil stepped close to Amaris, resting his now-warm hand upon his forearm. “Please. If you think me fair and if you would be my friend, tell none of this. I wish only to dwell in peace.”

Amaris looked into the deep, wise eyes, touched with age and sadness. He reached up and traced his fingertips over one fine cheekbone. “I promise to tell none of your secrets, to never betray your confidence. That I might share your light.”

Ilinuil flinched. The last sentence was part of the binding ceremony, and the words were like salt in a wound.

“Come,” he said softly. “Let us take the little ones to the river.”

***---***

Erestor stepped into the cottage, and stopped, puzzled at the sight of his husband openly weeping on an Elf in full armor, who was in turn weeping on him. Fin was not known for such outbursts, and Erestor feared the very worst. He was about to step forward and find out what had occurred, when something about the armor caught his attention.

Gold armor, and crystal. And long black hair…

The Elf stepped back to look at Glorfindel, his familiar face wet with tears. Erestor felt he had stepped into a dream. Surely this was not his husband’s friend of old…?

“Glorfindel?” he asked softly.

Fin turned, looking in the direction of Erestor’s voice, reaching his hand out to him. “Erestor! My love, come and meet one of my dearest friends. Erestor, this is Ecthelion. Thel, my beautiful husband.”

Erestor had never met Ecthelion, but he had seen many illuminations, and he had heard enough tales from Fin that he felt he knew him. Still, it was a bit overwhelming to be suddenly kissed full on the lips and hugged tightly by a dead legend.

“Master Erestor, so pleased to meet you. And to see you looking decidedly better than the last time I saw you.”

“So that was you in the Great Hall!”

“I confess, t’was me indeed.” He kissed Erestor again, then looked around. “Which reminds me, where is the Elfling?”

“I’ll show you. Er, might I ask what you are doing here?”

“Baby first, long winded tales later. I always wanted a baby of my own, but for some reason their mothers get upset when I take them.”

Erestor smiled wryly, linking his arm through Ecthelion’s. “Stay here long enough and you’ll probably get pregnant.”

“No that wouldn’t do, I would have to have my armor let out.”

“You know, Fin warned me you were mad.”

“Oh that’s no good, he denied you all the fun of finding out for yourself.”

They stepped into the bedroom. Estorel was just waking up from his nap, rubbing one eye with his tiny fist and yawning. He looked mildly puzzled at the strange Elf who was picking him up, but then was immediately drawn to the beautiful sparkling armor. Ecthelion cradled him close, then turned to look at Erestor, reaching out to take his hand.

“Listen, I just want to tell you, that whatever Fin and I had is long in the past.”

Erestor smiled, touched by the Elf’s concern for his feelings. “Thank you,” he said.

Ecthelion kissed his face. “Besides. I’m hopelessly in love with someone I met in the Hall.”

“So you’re back from the dead and you brought a friend.”

“Actually, that is the other way around. He brought me. Let us go sit, and I will tell you and Fin the whole tale.”

***---***

Gaelemir sat with Elrohir and Frost by the river. Not far away sat Haldir, spending a little quiet time with his shaggy lover and their daughter. Gaelemir was amazed that Haldir and Rabbit were a couple, let alone a happy couple. The creature that Frost insisted was his mother was so unlike the refined Wood-Elf that he could not imagine how they had come to be a pair. Yet they seemed very well matched, despite their obvious differences.

“Your Sia is a most remarkable person,” said Gaelemir.

“I love him,” said Frost softly. “And as kind as the Wood-Elves were to me, and as grateful as I am to my foster parents, I wish I could have been raised by him.”

Bramble pulled something out of the water, and ran excitedly to her father, passing him a hefty crayfish. With the delicacy of a Wood-Elf, he deftly cleaned it and ate it. Thrilled that her gift had been accepted, Bramble ran off to get him another.

“That,” said Elrohir, “is a tolerant Elf.”

Frost laughed. “Perhaps he has discovered he likes raw crayfish.”

“I am not certain that is something I could enjoy,” said Elrohir.

Frost smiled. “Have you ever tasted raw crayfish?”

“No, I confess that I find the long feelers and little nippy claws daunting.”

“What if I caught you one? Would you try it?”

Elrohir looked into Frost’s eyes and felt his insides turn to mush. If he brought him warg droppings on toast he’d eat them. “I’ll try,” he said.

Frost got to his feet and went down to the river, watched by Gaelemir and Elrohir.

“Pretty,” said Gaelemir.

“Fair beyond description,” said Elrohir. “His beauty haunts my dreams, and his gentle wisdom warms me.”

Gaelemir gave him a sidelong glance, fighting an urge to cuff him. Elrohir did not notice him, his eyes were on Frost as the white Elf stepped into the river.

Rabbit also noticed Frost move towards the water, and raised an eyebrow. He had been lounging in the cool water. He tossed back his heavy black hair, and asked in their own tongue; “And who are you hunting for?”

“I am not hunting, Sia. I am merely catching a crayfish for Elrohir.”

“And does young Elrohir know what it means to have one of your station hunt for him?”

“He won’t if you do not tell him. And I am not hunting for him.”

“I like him. He is young, but he is deep, there is wisdom in him.”

“Then you hunt for him, Sia.”

“Why when he has you?”

Frost fixed his mother with the timeless exasperated expression all children give their parents. “I take back anything kind I ever said about you.”

“He would be good company for you.”

Frost was very grateful to Rabbit for saying nothing about children. He searched around in the river, finally locating his quarry. He deftly killed and cleaned it, then glanced over at Rabbit, who was smiling knowingly.

“He does not know how to clean them,” said Frost.

“Did I say anything?”

“Sia does your new lover have any idea what a trouble-making wise ass you are?”

“He won’t if you do not tell him. And do not speak to your Sia in such a manner.”

“I am sorry, Sia.”

Rabbit looked very pleased with himself. Frost turned back to Elrohir, sitting beside him before offering him the morsel. Elrohir looked at it dubiously, then took the tidbit and ate it.

“That’s delightful! How do you catch them?”

“I shall show you. Come to the water with me.”

Rabbit stretched out in the cool water, watching his child and two companions. He liked Elrohir, but Gaelemir he did not trust. Although the other Elves seemed to quite like him, there was something about him that set Rabbit’s teeth on edge.

He felt Bramble sit on his back and pull his heavy black hair. Then his attention was drawn to the sound of children approaching, and he sighed heavily. He looked up and watched as Lindir, Syrith, Emerald, Silmaril and Grace came into view and made their way into the water. Then he spied Ilinuil, accompanied by a handsome blond Elf he did not know.

“The river is crowded today,” said Haldir.

“I am not surprised,” said Rabbit. “It is unseasonably warm.”

“Are you coming in, Ada?” asked Bramble.

Haldir rose to his feet, and paused to study the Elf with Ilinuil. Then he removed his tunic and stepped into the shallow water, coming to sit beside his little family. Not far away was a sudden deep spot, which was where the children were going to swim. He laughed as he saw Firespark and his brother Foxfire launch themselves out of the bushes, leaping high into the air to land in the deep water with a terrific splash. There were shrieks from all caught in the spray, and Ilinuil laughed out loud as he was splattered with clear water.

Gaelemir rose to his feet abruptly at the sound. He stared coldly at Ilinuil, but the beautiful Elf did not seem to notice him. Amaris gently drew him away from the water and the splashing noisy youngsters, reaching up to quickly brush away a drop of water on his face.

“Ilinuil,” said Gaelemir, and at the sound of his loud, authoritative voice, Ilinuil seemed to shrink into himself, becoming small and nervous. Haldir and Rabbit exchanged glances, and the Lothlórien Elf put a gentle, reassuring hand on his lover.

“Introduce me to your friend,” said Gaelemir.

It had been a long time since Amaris had sat upon the throne of Mirkwood, but it had not been so long he forgot the authority that came with that position.

“I am Amaris of Mirkwood, former King.” He narrowed his eyes. “I believe you owe me your allegiance.”

“I owe no allegiance to former Kings. My King is Thranduil.”

Amaris stared at the tall, imposing form of Gaelemir. “Still arrogant, aren’t you Gaelemir? Well unless you are bound to this fair creature, or have other claims upon him, I believe he is free to choose his own company.”

Rabbit growled very softly, and Haldir would have as well if he could. He watched as Gaelemir clenched his fist, obviously wishing to say something, but for some reason not speaking up. Rabbit suddenly disliked Gaelemir intensely, and was very happy when Frost stepped into the river to come sit by him, accompanied by Elrohir.

“There is much more here that meets the eye,” said Frost quietly.

“Indeed,” said Haldir. “I would have sworn I heard in a tale once that Gaelemir and Ilinuil are bound; if such is true was does he not speak up now?”

“Perhaps it is not true,” said Frost.

Rabbit narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps he wants more fish than he is entitled to.”

Frost suddenly felt angry, and rose to his feet. “Gaelemir? Do you have claim to Ilinuil, and his love?”

Gaelemir clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. Finally he spoke. “No. I was merely concerned for him.”

“You need not worry,” said Ilinuil. “I am in no danger.”

“Often we do not see the danger we are walking into, until it is too late,” said Gaelemir.

It was a threat, and Ilinuil knew it. But whatever hold Gaelemir had over him, Ilinuil was still a proud warrior, and his heart and spirit rebelled against being threatened and humiliated in public. An eerie, faint blue light flickered about him, and Amaris felt the air around him grow deathly cold.

“I could say much the same to you,” said Ilinuil softly.

To say Gaelemir was surprised at the response was an understatement. He gave little outer indication, but inwardly his jaw dropped. “I suppose you could,” he said, attempting to lighten the conversation. “Very well, I shall mind my own business.”

Ilinuil bowed his head, then he and Amaris made their way further down the river to stand guard over the splashing children.

Frost looked at Elrohir. “I thought you Wood-Elves shone white when angry.”

Elrohir was still looking at Ilinuil, eyes wide. “So did I!”

***---***

Ilinuil stayed by the river awhile with Amaris. But as the children finished playing and made their way back home, Ilinuil turned to his new friend and gently took his hand.

“I fear I must leave you now,” said Ilinuil softly. “I have much to think about.”

“Can I not help?” asked Amaris.

Ilinuil smiled sadly. “No, though I wish you could. I have long put off the choice that is before me, but now after Gaelemir’s actions, I fear the time has come, as they say, to fish or cut bait.”

“Will I see you again?”

“I hope so,” said Ilinuil. “But I do not know.”

He turned and walked away, and Amaris watched him move silently out of sight.

***---***

Ilinuil got drunk.

In fact, he got very drunk. He locked himself in the wine cellar with some of Thranduil’s best 2nd ager, and drank. And thought. And drank. After five bottles, he knew what he must do, though he dreaded the outcome. Staggering to his feet, he uncorked a sixth bottle, and made his way quietly to his tent. Gaelemir was there, as Ilinuil knew he would be. His stomach clenched, but he turned his back and began to pack.

“Leaving again? Pack well, the trip to exile will be long.”

Ilinuil turned, blazing a cold blue flame, the anger and fear and grief reflected in his silver eyes, like a mirror. And though he wept, his voice was firm.

“Tell them Gaelemir. Tell them all. Tell the Elves, the Dwarfs, the Men, tell the Valar for all I care. I would rather dwell alone like a hunted animal for all eternity than spend one more moment in this pit of despair with you.” He turned and shoved a few more things into his bag, then stopped as a thought struck him. “No,” he said softly, his voice calm, as though he knew now what he must do. He left his bag and picked up the bottle of wine, taking a drink. “No I shall tell them myself. Why should you have all the fun?”

Gaelemir watched his husband of one thousand years walk out of the tent and out of his life.

***---***

Ilinuil walked into the circle of light surrounding Lord Elrond’s dining table. He was a drunken mess, hair wild, tunic opened, bottle in one hand. But for all that, he was still beautiful. He staggered to a halt, and by now all eyes were on him. Ilinuil shoved his hair back, and said quietly; “Forgive the intrusion and my condition Lord Elrond, but I have a matter that cannot wait.”

Elrond could not recall the last Elf he had seen this drunk. Ilinuil’s voice may have been steady, but his blue-grey eyes plainly could not focus, and he wove as he stood.

“Ilinuil,” said Elrond coldly, “though I have great respect for you, I cannot tolerate this intrusion unless your matter be one of life or death.”

“It is my Lord. My life. Or death. As you see best. But I harbor something within my breast that I must spit forth ere it rises up and chokes me. And I cannot do it another time. I am out of strength.” He gave Elrond a grin. “And you are out of Second Ager.”

There was some laughter to this. Elrond bowed his head. “Very well. Speak.”

Ilinuil took another drink, then looked down at the bottle he held. His voice was soft, but it was clear. “My mother was the Lady of the House of the Silver Rose. I doubt many have heard of it, for it was a small house, and fell long ago. My mother’s husband died many years before this, but my mother was a fair and merry woman, and had many suitors. One day, as she was out walking, she was captured by Orcs, and dragged by force to a dark and ruined tower by the sea. She expected to be treated with utmost cruelty, but the Orcs, oddly, were almost kind. They fed her Elven food, and put her in a high room, where she could see the sun and moon. She was beginning to think perhaps Orcs were not as cruel as she had heard, but the truth was far darker. They had been commanded to keep her for another.”

Ilinuil took another long drink. Those gathered at the table waited in deathly silence for more of the tale.

“One night, a creature approached her. A creature of death and evil, and it tried to seduce her, for well it knew that Elves who are forced quite often die. She was terrified and sickened, for it had dried, cracked skin, smelled of the grave, and was cold enough to burn flesh. She did not give herself to it, and at last, it left her, sobbing and alone. Days past, and it returned a few times more. But again she shunned it. Then, one night, an Elves warrior came to her aid. He was fair and brave and kind, and he defeated the Orcs and took her to freedom. And, when they were away and safe, she willingly gave herself to him. For days they traveled together, but as they neared the borders of her little land, she began to understand that she had been deceived. For this creature was no Elf, though it had clad itself in the skin of one. It had used magicks to cover the smell of death, and had stood in the heat of Mount Doom to warm itself, so she would not feel its coldness.

But now, the skin began to rot, and the stench returned, and the creature turned cold. It left her, alive, and unharmed, but not without sickness and fear. And, in the depths of the coldest and most fell of winters, she bore a son.” He raised his head and fixed Elrond with his blue-grey eyes. “Me.”

He drank, finishing the bottle, setting it down on a nearby stone. “Long have I been tortured by this secret, but no more. And if you would slay me, or exile me from your lands, then so be it, and I bear you no ill will. I am Ilinuil the Grey, former Lord of the House of the Silver Rose, child of Eklana, fathered to be a vessel for the spirit of Sauron by the Witch-King of Angmar.”

For a long time, no one moved. Suddenly Gaelemir came running up, then stopped short as he saw the look on the faces of those gathered. Ilinuil turned, weaving dangerously.

"And here is my darling husband, who bound himself to me a thousand years ago this very eve, not that he recalls I am sure. Happy anniversary, you son of a bitch." Then Ilinuil dropped to the ground like a sack of hammers and passed out.