The Last Homely House
Chapter Twenty

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: Legolas has a conversation with his Uncle, a decision is reached about Ilinuil, and Elrohir learns something about himself – and he’s not happy about it.

Gimli lay on his back in the grass, perfectly content. The sun was warm, and the gentle breeze that rustled the bright green leaves of the trees kept the day from becoming too hot. The river trickled calmly on its way, and the birds chirped as they busily went about their business. Life was good.

The breeze gently played with the pale gold hair of the Elf curled up against him, his head on the Dwarf’s broad chest. A few strands blew into his face and tickled his nose, and he raised one small hand to scratch, making a small, unhappy noise before lowering his head again. Gimli grinned at him, then gently stroked the stray hair back into place before placing a light kiss on Legolas’ brow.

The clear blue eyes opened, and he looked at the Dwarf, the familiar mischievous smile spreading over the fine features. He moved closer, and kissed him, then, with Elven quickness, straddled him and pinned Gimli’s hands over his head.

Elves were fast and graceful, but were not renowned for their strength. Gimli let Legolas hold him down for a brief time while they kissed, then tipped him over and held him down.

“I like this better,” he said, grinning.

The Elf squirmed and protested, but clearly was going nowhere. He tried to muster an icy glare, but failed miserably. “Let me up!”

“Nope! Not until I’ve had my way with you.”

“Brute!”

“Brute? Me? Oh now that is an insult that cannot go unanswered.”

The broad hands immediately flew to the slender ribcage, instinctively finding the most ticklish spots. The Elf screeched and writhed, but was unable to escape his tormentor.

“Gimli! Stop or you’ll be sleeping with the horses!”

“That’s no threat, we’re living above the stable, I’m sleeping with them now!” He resumed tickling.

“GIMLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!”

He stopped tickling, looking down at the limp and rumpled Elf. “Ah who am I kidding, I can’t torture you.”

“Thank you my love.”

“I’ll have to call your sisters.”

“NO!”

Gimli leaned forward and kissed him. “And what will you do for me, to spare you from the horror of their clutches?”

“What would you have me do?”

Gimli looked down into the soft blue eyes. He stroked the long, soft hair, then kissed him gently. “I am sure I can come up with some suitable debaucheries.”

***---***

Amaris stepped into the clearing and stopped as he saw the pair, lying in each other’s arms, snuggled comfortably, the sweat still drying on their bodies. They were kissing, each oblivious to anything around them, bits of leaf and moss in the Elf’s fine gold hair. Amaris was very glad he had not shown up five minutes earlier.

“Unhand that fair and innocent Dwarf, foul Elf!” he cried.

He grinned with amusement at the suddenly flurry of movement as the pair each reached for something to cover themselves. Legolas sat up and pulled on his long tunic, then pushed his tangled hair back from his face.

“Uncle Amaris?”

“Hello, my dear nephew. What indecent acts have you inflicted upon this poor Dwarf?”

“Why do you ask? Writing a sequel to that book of yours, ‘Mirkwood Love Secrets’?”

“Oh I may. It never occurred to me to do a chapter concerning Dwarfs and Elves.”

Legolas went over to his uncle and hugged him. “So you at least are still speaking to me.”

“Oh of course I am. Finish dressing, then you shall introduce me to Gimli properly.”

Amaris walked down to the river to wait for them, Gimli watching the tall Elf move away. “That’s your uncle?”

Legolas nodded as he resumed dressing. “Yes. No doubt he has come here to try and smooth over relations in the family. I wish him luck, but I fear he will not be successful. For my part I am willing to forgive my father, though no doubt he will feel I need to beg forgiveness from him.”

“Perhaps,” said Gimli quietly, “it is I who need to beg forgiveness from all of you. This mess seems to be all my fault.”

Legolas snapped his gaze to Gimli. “No! This is NOT your fault! This is the fault of an arrogant ruler, who deems obedience more important than happiness and love. Too many times I have put pleasing him over my own joy, but not this time. I have found someone who means too much to me to part with, and I will not. Especially not to please an angry, ungrateful and unhappy King. Even if he is my father.”

He sat down beside the Dwarf and kissed him firmly, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “I love you. Now let us dress, and you shall meet my Uncle.”

Amaris was seated on a rock, and he looked up as the pair approach, both now dressed and with the leaf litter combed out of their hair. He rose to his feet, and Gimli bowed politely.

“Greetings, Lord Amaris.”

Amaris returned the bow. Greetings to you, Gimli. I have heard much about you. Let us sit, and we shall talk.”

Gimli sat on a stone. Legolas sat by his feet, resting one arm on his lap. Amaris looked from one to the other. “I wish for you to know I do not share Thranduil’s opinion of your love. I admit, if asked, my first choice for a lover for my nephew would not be a Dwarf. But I have heard of your deeds, and of your Clan, and do not oppose you being together.”

Legolas smiled. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Amaris smiled. “And do not worry about your Ada, Legolas. He will come to his senses soon enough.”

“But how can you be so sure? Ada can be very stubborn.”

“Your Ada has one weakness, Legolas. He believes very strongly in caring for his realm, and his people. If he has no heirs, he has none to claim the throne should anything happen to him. He will bend, and once he has bent he will be more willing to listen to you, and to see how happy you are.”

“I hope you are right, Uncle.”

Amaris rose from his seat to cross over to Legolas. He bent and kissed his head. “Of course I am, Elfling. You will see.”

Gimli looked from Legolas to Amaris, and thought: ‘If the cranky old bastard doesn’t just decide to remarry and try all over again.’

***---***

Elrond was in the Healer’s tent, reading through the book by Arphen that Elrohir had so recently shown him, when he looked up to see his son standing quietly in the doorway. The young Elf-Lord looked thoughtful, and perhaps even a little sad. Elrond closed the book and set it aside.

“Is all well with you, Elrohir?”

“Well enough,” said Elrohir. He sat down on a stool facing his father. “But, I have been having thoughts. About Frost.”

“Is he not returning your feelings?”

“He is, actually, although it may be some time before I can call him my lover. We… shared a bed last night. At first I was so happy. But then I began to think. I began to worry about what may happen if a time comes when he gets with child. I began to worry about him losing it.” He looked at his father. “I would feel better if I knew what was wrong with him. I do not like to think of putting either of us through that, but least of all him. He has lost five children altogether.”

“I did not know it was so many.”

Elrohir nodded. “The last was the fifth. He conceives, the child lives a while, then dies inside him. Rabbit has never had such a thing happen, and though it has occurred with a few of the other Plains Elves, it never happens so consistently. Ada, have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Elrond shook his head. “Not with Wood-Elves, but there are many differences between our two races. Indeed I have never heard of a Wood-Elf losing a child in such a way.” He took Elrohir’s hand and squeezed it. “We have the documents about the Plains-Elves, Rhimlan and the healer Celathiel are transcribing the documents into a tome, and one of Erestor’s students, Eldanorien, is assisting. Let us go ask them if they have read anything about this matter, then you and I shall consult the unread papers to see if we may find anything helpful. After all, I am not opposed to grandchildren. Not even ones that bite.”

Elrohir laughed. “Ada if I have my way, your ankles shall be nipped many times over.”

“That… is a very odd sentiment for a son to give his father. But I appreciate the meaning behind it, especially since Arwen and her offspring shall be remaining here, and I do not think Orophin will give Elladan any children. So you are given the burden of amusing me with Elflings I can hand back to you when they grow cranky.”

“I shall do my best, Ada.”

They made their way to the new healing room, where they found Rhimlan, Celathiel and Eldanorien at work. As they entered, Rhimlan looked up.

“My lord Elrond, I am glad you are here. We greatly desire your opinion on these papers.”

“What is it you wish to ask?” said Elrond.

“Some of the information in here is of a very dark nature, but we are reluctant to destroy it, in case a time arises when we may need to know such things.”

Elrond glanced at the paper from over her shoulder. Disgust crossed his aristocratic face. “I see what you mean. I shudder to think how Sauron and his minions learned such things, but as you say, it is interesting.”

Elrohir picked up the paper. At first he felt excitement, realizing the document dealt with fertility in Plains-Elves. His excitement turned to sickness as he read of how feeding the blood of Elven maids to Plains-Elves could force them into a brief, but overwhelmingly intense, fertility cycle.

“Is there anything else regarding their reproduction that is not so… distasteful?”

Celathiel shook her head. “No. Remarks on how fast they can breed, how fast they can be forced to conceive after giving birth… Nothing I would consider fair and helpful advice. Why do you ask?”

“Ada and I are attempting to solve the mystery of why Frost cannot carry children.”

“He is rather different from the others,” said Rhimlan. “Perhaps it is something inherent in his nature. He has said he has never succeeded in fathering a child, either.”

“There is that possibility,” said Elrond. “But let us see if there is another answer.”

***---***

They spent the rest of the day going through the papers, while Rhimlan, Celathiel and Eldanorien transcribed. The papers, as disgusting as much of what they contained was, were interesting, but offered no insight. Finally Elrond and his son left the healing room, going their separate ways in silence. Elrohir went to his tent, and smiled as he saw Frost stretched out on the bed. He sat beside him, reaching out to touch his face.

“You have been gone all day,” said Frost.

“My father and I were… looking into something.”

Frost rolled to his side and faced Elrohir. “I should think, for one who has so recently lain with a new lover, you would be in higher spirits.”

Elrohir shed his heavy outer robe, then lay down beside Frost in the thinner, dark-blue undergarment. He stroked Frost’s face, then gently kissed him. “I would be merrier if I was less worried about the lover.”

“Oh? And what worries you about me? My yellow eyes? My odd habits?” He pulled Elrohir closer and nipped his neck. “My fondness for feasting upon the flesh of young Elves?”

Elrohir put his arms around him and smiled. “I just want… all to be well with you.”

Frost thought about that, and raised his head to look into Elrohir’s eyes. “Ah, I think I understand,” he said softly. “This is about… my lost children.”

“In a way,” said Elrohir. He noticed they were both speaking in near-whispers. He stroked his hand over Frost’s broad chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos with his fingertip. “I just don’t wish to see you lose another. I thought… perhaps my father and I could do something to help.”

Frost hugged him. “Ah, aia-nen, I do not know if I can be helped, but I wish you and your father luck. If there is anything I can do to assist, I will. But I think it is just how I am. I am not quite like the other Elves in my village.”

“Rhimlan said something similar earlier.” He pulled Frost closer, making a small gasp as Frost rolled over and put his considerable weight on him. “Frost, I will be of little use to you if I am flattened.”

Frost did not wish to discuss the matter further, and opted to distract his lover. He kissed him. “You could be right. You are certainly of no use to me dressed.” He undid the belt holding the blue robe closed, smiling as the silk slid from Elrohir’s body. “Much better.”

Elrohir sighed with feigned despair. “Ah, what shall do, I am about to be ravished.”

“You could submit willingly,” said Frost.

“I could. I think I shall. After all, I’m already naked.”

“Wise Elf.” Frost kissed him, then stood up to remove his own clothes. Elrohir slid under the covers, blowing out the candle as Frost got into bed beside him.

The large Elf rolled towards him, sliding his broad hand across Elrohir’s bare midriff, tracing his fingers over the flat stomach. Then he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against his chest, growling quietly. He wrapped his mouth around his shoulder, and bit ever so gently.

“You’re going to eat me, aren’t you?”

“Only after I have had my wicked way with you. Making love builds such an appetite!”

Frost kissed him. Elrohir put his arms around his strong neck and returned the kiss, parting his lips to taste him. He brought up one leg, linking it around Frost’s as he ran his hand over his broad shoulders. Frost was definitely larger than his other male lovers, and there was something about his lean, long body that Elrohir found very exciting. He moved his hand into the heavy white hair, then brought his other leg around him.

Frost kissed him, sliding his hands over Elrohir’s slim body. He grinned as he felt the young Elf’s legs wrap around him, felt his erection against his stomach. His kissed him again, then moved down, kissing his throat, his chest, then closed his lips over one nipple. Elrohir arched up beneath him, drawing a rough gasp as he felt Frost’s hands moving over him.

“I’ve never been with anyone as strong as you.”

Frost looked up and smiled. “Fair exchange, I have never been with anyone so fair.”

Elrohir laughed. “Oh do not tell me such nonsense!”

“I am not lying! Star was many things, but ‘fair’ is not one of them. And Hannilgil was not without his charms, but you, Elrohir, are special. You are brave, and wise, and sweet, and charming, and absolutely edible.”

Elrohir made a strange sound as Frost lowered his head and took his stiff penis into his mouth, the wet heat from the tongue slowly stroking over him driving all thought from his mind. He felt Frost’s hands slid down his sides to his waist, his hips, his buttocks. Elrohir draped his legs around Frost’s neck, head thrown back, his waist-length hair spreading across the bedding. He closed his eyes, lips parted, as he moved within Frost’s mouth.

He felt Frost slip his lips from his penis, and made a quiet noise of protest. “Oh don’t stop.”

Frost paused, watching the young Elf with mischief in his green-gold eyes. He slowly moved forward, pushing Elrohir’s legs higher, letting the tip of his penis press between his buttocks. “Oh I’m not stopping, aia-nen, I just have a different torture in mind.”

Elrohir arched up once more, drawing in breath sharply as he felt Frost lay over top of him, his hard penis moving against his. He parted his lips to let Frost kiss him, then made a frustrated sound. “In me.”

Frost grinned, stroking his long hair. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

Frost laughed, then kissed him. “Very well, I shall stop teasing you.”

Elrohir gasped hoarsely, his arms and legs tightening their grip around Frost as he finally penetrated him. The white Elf kissed his face, then his lips, tangling his fingers in to the long, soft brown hair. “Better?”

“Oh yes, much.” Elrohir pressed his face against Frost’s neck, his hands moving over his large back, moving in rhythm with the larger Elf’s thrusts.

“Frost?”

Frost was placing gentle kisses over his face. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

Frost smiled, perhaps a little wearily, unsure if he believed the words. He looked down at Elrohir, studying his beautiful face. “Open your eyes and tell me,” he whispered.

Elrohir opened his eyes. They were fogged with passion, a strange shade of misty blue. But they met his, and Frost saw the sincerity behind the desire.

“I love you,” Elrohir repeated with gently simplicity.

Frost smiled, truly touched by the words, and their simple truth. “I love you too, Elrohir.”

He kissed him softly, deeply. He held him tighter, resting his face against Elrohir’s, enjoying the feel of his body moving beneath his, the warmth of his breath against his cheek. He slid his hands under Elrohir’s shoulders, moving his cheek against the younger Elf’s face, reveling in the feel of his living flesh. It had been only a few months since he had last coupled with someone, but it had been centuries since the last time he made love. It was good to be with someone, to simply enjoy each other without it having anything to do with basic reproduction. Most of his time with Star had been devoid of lovemaking. It seemed the only time Star had wanted him was when his fertility cycle was active.

Frost held Elrohir a little tighter, grinning, wondering what it would be like if Star could see him now. He would have a fit if he knew he had been discarded in favour of one of the ‘Glaur-Iyre’, the ‘golden elves’. It would serve him right, too.

Elrohir made a ragged sound, biting lightly at Frost’s shoulder, oblivious to what his pale lover was thinking. Frost kissed him, and pushed Star out of his mind. He didn’t have to push hard.

Frost watched him, smiling, enjoying watching his rising passion. He settled over him, closing his eyes and listening to his breathing, the soft cries. He felt his heart beat, the rise and fall of his breast. He kissed him hard, then began moving inside of him with slow, hard thrusts. The younger Elf made a loud cry of approval, and Frost half-feared he had a screamer on his hands. Not that he was opposed to noisy lovers, but not with only a canvas wall between him and a whole encampment. He grinned and kissed him.

“Do you intend to let all Arda know what we are doing?”

“Fuck ‘em,” said Elrohir.

Frost laughed. Definitely a screamer. Well, only one way to deal with that. He watched and waited, slowing or quickening his thrusts in order to keep Elrohir on the brink of orgasm. His plan was to kiss him when he finally let him climax, thus keeping his mouth occupied. However he underestimated the young Elf-Lord’s tolerance to being teased. Despite being smaller than the large white Elf, Elrohir suddenly dumped the both of them off the bed in a tangle of bedding, making sure he was the one to end up on top. He promptly took control of the situation, flinging his head back and uttering a sharp, high-pitched cry.

Frost dumped him onto his back, trying not to laugh. He thrust hard into him, giving Elrohir what he wanted, shoving his tongue into his mouth to keep him reasonably quiet. Then he gave into his own passion, and Elrohir’s cries changed from high sounds of pleasure to lower ones of surprise as Frost shoved into him hard. Frost growled, giving into his more animalistic side. Elrohir felt the sharp teeth against his throat as Frost wrapped his jaws around him, thrusting into him hard like a wild thing. He wrapped his arm around Frost, making a hoarse, wild cry as he finally climaxed, his semen spilling hotly over their joined bodies.

He yelped as Frost bit a little harder and gave his head a slight shake. Elrohir felt something wet on his neck, but assumed it was Frost’s saliva. He realized it was blood as the large Plains-Elf shoved into him, flinging his head back, and Elrohir saw the red slicked across his lips. He lay, too spent to worry much about it, passive beneath his lover as Frost made a guttural sound, and Elrohir felt the large penis inside of him spill hot fluid. Frost made another cry, shuddering, eyes closed, oblivious to all else. Then he gasped softly, his body relaxing. His eyelids flickered, and Elrohir saw, for the briefest of moments, the same flicker of moonlight in them he had seen when he watched Frost chanting in the pool weeks ago. Then he sighed quietly, settling over Elrohir. For a long time they lay in a silent heap.

Elrohir was the first to speak. He stroked his hand over Frost’s shoulder, then said; “I fear we must move. You are not light.”

Frost dragged himself off of Elrohir, flopping heavily onto his back. “That was fun,” he remarked.

Elrohir sat up and reached for a mirror, examining the lacerations on his throat. They were not deep, but they were thin and neat, telling him Frost’s teeth were far sharper than those of other Elves.

“A neck guard may be in order for the next time, I think,” he said.

“And something to muffle the screams,” said Frost as he sat up to look at the marks on Elrohir’s neck.

“Oh come, I am not that loud.”

“Yes you are!” responded several voices.

Frost laughed, and Elrohir immediately grabbed the quilt and hid his face in embarrassment.

***---***

Rúmil raised his head, blinking sleepily as he felt Elrond get into bed beside him. He made a small sound, then rolled over to put his head on Elrond’s chest, draping an arm around his waist. He smiled as he felt a hand stroke over his hair.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” Rúmil muttered sleepily.

“I know, my love, and I am sorry for neglecting you. Elrohir and I were trying to determine why Frost loses his children. I spent hours going through the most foul of documents to see if I could learn anything, but the search was fruitless. All I succeeded in doing was giving myself a case of nausea.”

Rúmil raised his head and kissed him. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Tell me when you would like to be bound.”

Rúmil yawned. “Winter.”

Elrond gave him an odd look. “Winter? Whatever for?”

“I like winter. I like the snow. I would like our binding ceremony to be outside, on a clear winter night, with the stars shining in the black sky like white diamonds, the snow like a pure glittering blanket on the ground, and the moon bathing all in its white light.”

Elrond smiled, stroking his hand over his lover’s hair. “I like that. Very well, we shall marry midwinter, until the starlit sky.” He kissed his brow, glad that his stomach was finally beginning to settle. It was no easy thing to read through documents penned by the Dark Lord, and he much preferred contemplating binding to Rúmil under the bright winter moon. In fact, doing anything with Rúmil was preferable. He put his arms around him and held him close. “So what did you do while I was off making myself ill?”

“Think.” Rúmil yawned. “I do not know if I am cut out for a life as an idle pet.”

“You are no idle pet.”

“No but I feel like one. I am a warrior, and have been all my life. But if I bind with you, then my station changes, and I must respect that in order not to be an embarrassment to you and your position. But I loathe being idle, I loathe not being able to fight, and most of all I loathe not being at your side. Every time I see Amrun in my place behind you I feel the most un-Elven urge to toss him over a cliff and take his position. I do not want to cast a bad light upon you with my antics, but I cannot simply fade into the background. I do not wish to become like Lord Celeborn. We love him, and there is no doubt that he brings great joy to Lady Galadriel, but he is a pet. That is fine for him, he was born to it. I was born to serve.”

“I did not realize this was so hard for you.”

“Not hard, but certainly frustrating. I feel like a wild thing, tied to a stake. But I am not certain what can be done about it, other than refuse to bind with you. And that is not something I wish to do.”

Elrond closed his eyes and thought. “I am not certain either. I do not wish to be without you, but to begin a binding with you frothing at the restraints does not sound to me like a binding that will last.” He looked at Rúmil and smiled. “More and more you force me to look into the Elder Days, dear Rúmil.”

“I am sorry my Lord.”

“No, do not be sorry. I have just thought of a solution to our dilemma. A post of old, from before the days of Noldo. An Elven Warrior-King, Pathlaniel, I believe his name was. He was bound to Aerwainiel, who had served as general to his armies. Aerwainiel would not suffer to be a pet on a velvet pillow either. So Pathlaniel made him Guardian Royal. It meant Aerwainiel kept his position, both as a Noble and as a Warrior. Of course we would have to put you into something a little more fine than what you are accustomed to wearing as my guardian, but you can stay at my side. And it means you can speak your mind when on duty.”

“And I may toss poor Amrun off of a cliff?”

“If you so desire. But please ensure he lands on something soft.”

Rúmil pretended to pout. “Well, if I must.” He raised his head and looked at Elrond. “So my new post makes me equal with you?”

“Yes. If you can suffer such a fate.”

Elrond watched a strange light come into Rúmil’s eyes, and a slow wicked smile spread over his face.

“Rúmil, I am almost afraid to ask what is going through your mind.”

Rúmil moved over top of him, kissing him. “Something terrible I have wanted to do since our first night together, but being a good little underling, I have kept my wickedness to myself. However, since I am now no longer bound to that… doooooommm….”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.” He raised his head. “Now if I can just remember where I put the goat milk and the feather duster.”

***---***

The day dawned bright and clear, and, after breakfast, the folk of Imladris gathered in the common area of the encampment to decide Ilinuil’s fate. Even Elrohir, despite his vow in the night to never show his face again. He was wearing his most formal garb, not because the situation called for it, but because the high collar hid the marks on his neck. Frost stood beside him in robes of white and black, edged with grey, so Elrohir would not look too terribly out of place. He grinned as the young Elf kept pulling his collar up.

Elrohir gave him a reproachful look. “Nipper.”

Frost grinned more broadly. “Screamer.”

Elrohir turned bright red and buried his face in his hands. “I’m going to die of terminal embarrassment, I know it.”

Frost laughed and put an arm around him, leaning forward to speak softly into his ear. “Oh fear not, my dear aia-nen, I am sure it was only a few who happened to be close by. Put it out of your mind, and let us ponder the matter before us. Look, here comes your Ada.”

Frost straightened, and Elrohir gave his collar one last tug before looking around. It seemed nearly everyone had come to decide upon Ilinuil, even Gaelemir. Elrohir kept the look of dislike off of his face and looked away. Instead he moved forward, quick as a thief, and took Estorel from Erestor, setting the Elfling upon his lap. Estorel was growing quickly, and was able to sit up on his own and crawl about. He had also developed a fondness for snatching anything his Sia happened to be holding at the time, so Erestor did not put up any sort of complaint when Elrohir took him. It meant he could devote his attention to what was happening.

Elrond seated himself, Erestor to his left, Glorfindel to his right, and Rúmil behind him, clad in his usual garb. He would not have his new uniform until after he and Elrond were bound.

“We all know why we have assembled here,” said Elrond. “To ponder Ilinuil’s… fate.”

Rúmil tried his best to hold back a smile. There were a few scattered giggles.

Legolas was the first to speak. “Long have I heard tales and legends of Ilinuil the Grey, ever since I was but an Elfling. Never once have I heard of him ever committing a foul act.”

“I would like to hear what Glorfindel and Ecthelion have to say on this matter,” said Faramir. “You have served with him. What say you?”

Ecthelion was watching Mauburz, much as a leashed dog stares at a deer. Ithilian gave him a light nudge with his foot, distracting him. Glorfindel stood up, leaning on his staff.

“I fought with Ilinuil, and never have I seen him do or say anything that caused me concern. Though now I better understand why the fell things we battled feared him, I never once felt he was in league with them. It is true there were many things about him we did not understand, which now are clear to me. But if he is evil, I am a dragon.”

Erestor glanced over at Syrdanna, the sea-dragon. She was on her back, feet splayed, enjoying the warm sun. He then looked towards Mauburz. “What do you say?”

She shrugged. “Mauburz have no problem with Ilinuil. Me… I… like him. Ilinuil quiet, shy. Nice Elf.”

“I agree with Mauburz,” said Gimli. “This Elf has caused no trouble, and if the tales I hear are true, it would be a great disservice to a noble warrior to toss him aside because of his heritage.”

“What say the Plains-Elves?” asked Elrond.

“He has caused no harm to us,” said Frost. “Many things have I tracked, and been tracked by since leaving Barad-dûr. Ilinuil does not seem foul to me. And if I may put in a word on his behalf, it is no easy thing to be of good heart with such a thing hanging over one’s head. My people have caused no harm to anyone, yet often we are shot at and even killed when folk learn what we are. He is to be praised for remaining gentle, not dismissed for having an ugly father.”

“Well said!” said Amaris.

“I agree,” said Elentar. “I have known Ilinuil from the hour of his birth. He was a rotten little brother, but he’s hardly dangerous.”

“Then let us vote,” said Elrond. “Halflings, what say you? Yea or nay?”

“Yea!”

“Dwarf-folk?”

“Yea!”

“Mortals?”

Faramir looked around. “Yea,” he said.

“Orcs?”

“Only one Orc and Mortal, you need eyes checked. Orc say ‘yea.’”

Elrond smiled. “And Elves?”

“Yea!”

“Very well. Ilinuil may remain in Imladris, until such time as he wishes to leave, or is proven to be of dark nature. Amaris, you may have the pleasure of releasing him.”

Amaris bowed, then turned and walked quickly towards the house. Suddenly Elladan stood up. Orophin leaned back in his chair, grinning broadly.”

“Ada!” said Elladan. “We have one more matter we need to discuss.”

Elrond looked towards his son. “And what is that, Elladan?”

Elladan pointed towards his brother. “Whether we are going to permit Elrohir to keep us awake every night with his carnal shriekings.”

Elrohir was mortified. “Elladan!”

“Look I am five tents away from you, and I had Orophin get up twice to see who was strangling a puppy.”

Glorfindel and Ecthelion howled with laughter. Elrohir passed Estorel back to Erestor as he rose to face his brother. “I do not sound like a strangling puppy!”

“No it’s more like a seabird in a net,” said Faramir.

“No,” said Merry. “A rusty cart wheel.”

“A rusty cart wheel running over a puppy,” said Mauburz.

Orophin clapped his hands together. “That’s it! A rusty cart wheel running over a puppy!”

“With a sea bird in its mouth,” added Gimli.

Ecthelion feel off of his seat, crying with laughter. Erestor was trying hard to keep a straight face, and not succeeding. Glorfindel leaned on his stick, shoulders shaking as he laughed helplessly. Elrond sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Glorfindel managed to get to his feet. “Very well! All who feel Elrohir should not be permitted to impersonate a rusty cart wheel running over a puppy with a sea bird in its mouth, say aye!”

“AYE!” shouted the entire assembly.

“I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life,” sad Elrohir.

“Well you’re young yet, give it time,” said Glorfindel. He gave him a friendly slap on the back, then bent to kiss his face. “Besides, ‘Thel sounds like a moose giving birth.”

“DO NOT!”

Glorfindel began making loud wheezing noises, and Ithilian burst out laughing. Ecthelion looked at his small lover. “Well it’s not that bad, is it?”

Ithilian continued giggling, and nodded.

Elrond rose to his feet. “As sad as I am to leave such a lofty discussion, I am escaping whilst I may.” The Elf-Lord left, Rúmil following him as always.

“So am I!” said Elrohir. “I have been embarrassed quite enough, thank you!”

“Bye Squeaky,” said Orophin.

Elrohir whipped around, coming face-to-face with the tall Galadhel. Very softly, so only Orophin could hear, Elrohir said; “How would you like me to slip something into your ale so that you never, ever can perform for my brother again?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Orophin took careful note of the look in Elrohir’s eye. “Okay. No ‘squeaky’.”

“Wise Elf.” Elrohir turned and linked his arm through Frost’s and the two walked away. Orophin looked at Elladan.

“Your brother does not play fair.”

“Oh he never did.” He took Orophin’s hand and kissed him. “But enough of him. Let’s you and I go fishing. You did say you would teach me.”

No one noticed as Gaelemir rose and quietly departed.

***---***

Amaris reached the door to Ilinuil’s makeshift jail, and tapped on the door. “Ilinuil?”

“Amaris?”

“T’is me.”

The door opened, and Amaris stepped inside. He took Ilinuil’s long slender hand between his own, and smiled. “The vote was in your favour! You may stay. You need be a prisoner no more.”

Amaris expected Ilinuil to be a little more enthusiastic about the news. Instead the hauntingly beautiful Elf looked towards the locked door. “Need I depart this chamber immediately?”

“No, not if you do not wish to. Why?”

“I was enjoying the peace, is all. Once I depart, I will have to face Gaelemir once again. I am not strong enough yet.”

Amaris moved closer, looking at the fair being so very much like the Silmarils he had seen once many, many years before. “Then stay. And I shall stay with you, if you like.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on the fair face. “I would. But I will not be very entertaining company. All this stress has wearied me. I would sleep a while.”

“I do not require entertaining. And a nap would do me no harm.”

They walked to the bed, Ilinuil watching as Amaris made himself comfortable. Then he lay down beside him, settling close. He slid his hand into Amaris’, smiling shyly as the other Elf turned to look at him. For a long moment they looked into each other’s eyes, and Ilinuil debated kissing him. At last he decided it was too soon for such a thing. Instead he placed his head on Amaris’ chest and closed his eyes.