Tales by Eressë

Title: An Ounce of Kindness
Author: Eressë
Characters: Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, Galvreth, Thranduil
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.
Summary: One never knows where an act of kindness will lead. The expanded version of the original story.
Author’s Note: To the closet-dwellers (you know who you are) - the tempest has arrived.

Chapter XVI
It was nearly two weeks into the twins’ visit ere the avenging party of scouts returned. But days before their arrival, one of their number came with news of what had transpired. The news heartened the Wood-elves and balmed their pained hearts.

Elivorn and Nimaras had tracked down and cornered the Orcs they’d pursued for many days. What followed had been a pitiless slaughter. The beasts deserved no mercy in the Elves’ opinion. Not one Goblin would return to its noisome den in the Misty Mountains or come back to plague the great forest again. And as a warning to all others who thought to brave the Silvan Elves’ wrath, the Orcs’ carcasses were decapitated and dismembered, the headless trunks along with armor and weapons gathered into a heap and torched and the heads mounted on tall stakes around the blackened remains of the grisly bonfire.

Such retaliation would not bring back the Elves’ dead. But the knowledge that their loved ones’ deaths had been avenged provided them with some measure of gratification. And with the prospect of peril from orkish or human vermin considerably reduced for the foreseeable future, the Woodland Realm would know some peace again.

Thranduil and his sons shared their subjects’ muted jubilation. And so did the brethren Elladan and Elrohir who had come to hold these proud and primal cousins of theirs in highest esteem. And for at least two princes in particular, deep in their regard though one of the twins did not yet permit himself to acknowledge it much less indulge it.

The scouts returned to a heroes’ welcome and Elivorn and Nimaras were much lauded for a task well done. In the relief and gladness that followed, even prior differences were set aside for a spell and Legolas was as warm and fulsome in his greetings to Nimaras as he was with Elivorn.

Still, Elrohir could not allay his unease when he laid eyes once more on the bronze-haired prince. Even Nimaras’ cool indifference was not sufficient to sooth his fraught nerves. Realizing he would not know tranquility of heart or mind unless he told Legolas the whole truth soonest, he resolved to have a long and private talk with his intended that very eve right after supper.

But as fortune would have it or the lack of it, before he could spirit Legolas away, Aelluin invited the twins to join the family for an after dinner hour of drink and gaming. Elrohir could hardly refuse the invitation and even less compel Legolas to forego a familial gathering. And so he duly showed up at the gaming room, determined to take Legolas aside as soon as courtesy permitted.

As it was, Thranduil did not stay overlong, preferring to turn in early after spending so many nights in troubled slumber, worrying about the welfare of his sons and their soldiers. Elrohir smiled when Legolas came to sit by his side, placed his drinking cup on the small table before them and relaxed into his encircling arms. In his father’s presence, Legolas always tried to maintain some decorum. But when only his brothers were about, he was freely affectionate with his Elf-knight. Elrohir decided to let a few more minutes pass before asking Legolas to come away with him for that much needed talk.

They had not spent any time together this day. At least, not by themselves. Thus, Legolas had cheekily waylaid Elrohir as the younger twin made his way to the family gathering. The resulting slightly tousled state of their hair and clothing was courtesy of a hasty grope and a spate of fevered kisses in the tiny curtained alcove a few paces away from the gaming room.

Legolas had explained away their rosy cheeks and mild breathlessness as due to a merry race down the hallway. Their abrupt and somewhat noisy entrance interrupted an ongoing game of Strategy between the king and Lalorn and earned them a pair of royal eyebrows raised in mild reproof of their unseemly behavior. Thranduil did not question the veracity of Legolas’ claim but it was possible he had an idea about just what his youngest had been up to if his faint smile as he turned back to the game was any indication. Legolas’ brothers however had no qualms about inquiring as to their most junior sibling’s activities.

From his comfortable position on the long divan beneath the great arched windows of the chamber, Aelluin made the first volley. “I saw the strangest thing on my way here,” he commented with spurious solemnity. “That alcove down the hallway? For some reason, its curtain had been drawn. And what’s more, it moved of its own accord though there was not the slightest breeze to ruffle a hen’s feathers. What think you, Legolas? Ghosts perhaps?”

Before Legolas could respond, Galvreth snorted and quipped, “No ghost would dare haunt these halls. Father would take it by its spectral ear and toss it out forthwith. You know how he hates having strangers roaming about, poking into his business.”

A collective chuckle resounded in the chamber as the others recalled how their esteemed sire usually dealt with trespassers. He was fair if stern and most did not suffer more than a good drubbing of their dignity. But Orcs and brigands could expect no mercy from the Elven-king and their ends were oft frightful should Thranduil himself decide their fates.

“But really, Legolas, must you choose so conspicuous a place to dally?” Elivorn grinned. “What if Ada had noticed?”

“Who says he did not?” Lalorn chimed in as he rose from the Strategy table to pour himself some ale. “Did you not see his smile after listening to Legolas’ ridiculous explanation?”

“‘Twas not ridiculous,” Legolas protested though without heat. “We did race here.”

“You mean Elrohir made a dash for it with you in hot pursuit,” Elladan said, ignoring his future law-brother’s mock scowl. “No doubt our honorable Elf-knight sought to preserve your virtue at this late date. What is left of it, that is.”

“Elladan!”

While Elrohir rolled his eyes in exasperation after his outburst, the rest burst into guffaws. At length, Aelluin gestured for a modicum of quiet and attempted to muster some seriousness of demeanor himself.

“I hope you have not gainsaid Father’s wishes, tôr dithen”—little brother—he said. “That would greatly disappoint him.”

“Nay, we have not coupled.” Legolas grinned at Elrohir’s mild blush. “We fully intend to await my majority.”

“Ah, then I take it you still have not partaken of the delight of riding a Peredhel,” Nimaras drawled.

Scarcely had he finished speaking when Elrohir tensed as did Elladan. And the atmosphere in the room suddenly turned a shade less amiable. Galvreth turned reproving eyes on his brother.

“School your tongue, Nimaras,” he sharply chided. “‘Tis not meet to use such crude language with the gwenyn.”—twins.

Nimaras retorted, “I am merely informing our dear brother of the bliss he is missing. I can personally vouch for it.”

While Legolas glared at him, Elrohir caught his breath in alarm. Here was impending doom and he could summon neither wit nor will to forestall it. He glanced frantically at Elladan but before the older twin could act, Legolas found his tongue.

“What do you mean?” he demanded when, upon glancing at Elrohir, he saw his sudden pallor.

“Only that I finally recalled that the Elf who graced my bed that last night in Imladris and so capably, too, was your beauteous intended.”

A feather dropping would have seemed a thunderclap during the silence that descended on the group. Not a one stirred for several moments as shock and disbelief made their rounds of every unsuspecting soul present.

“You lie!” Legolas finally exclaimed, his cheeks flushing. He turned to Elrohir beseechingly. “Tell me it isn’t so, Elrohir!”

When Elrohir failed to answer but only turned an even paler hue, Legolas knew his brother’s words for cruel truth. With a harsh cry, he leapt to his feet, overturning the small table with a crash and spilling ale bottles and various drinking cups to the floor and fled the chamber, heedless of Elrohir’s calls to him. His face now as white as the snow that perpetually capped the peaks of the Misty Mountains, Elrohir raced after him.

The rest lurched to their feet in various states of perturbation. Nimaras had only a second to smirk ere he was slammed hard against the wall behind him by an irate Elladan.

“Blood of Eru!” the older twin snarled. “You bided your time well, Orc spawn, and chose the most evil moment to strike at them!”

“How dare you judge me, Half-elf,” Nimaras spat back. “Did not Elrohir hold his own tongue all these years? If there is aught who should be chastised ‘tis he for playing my brother false and keeping the truth from him for so long!”

“And you knew full well why he kept his silence,” Elladan snapped “Yet you did not leave it to him to break it but foisted that foul news on Legolas without compunction. ‘Twas no act of concern but a deliberate attempt to hurt them!”

“I was not alone in that sordid tryst, Elladan,” Nimaras sneered. “Do not heap all the blame for your brother’s troubles on my head. And indeed I would counsel you to follow him for I doubt Legolas will treat with him kindly now.”

With a curse, Elladan roughly pushed him aside and stormed out of the chamber. Pausing only long enough to glower furiously at Nimaras, Galvreth followed him. The remaining three stared after them before Aelluin and Lalorn exchanged looks of confusion.

“What in Arda was that all about?” Aelluin demanded.

But Elivorn shook his head in dismay. “Nay, Elrohir could not have understood what he was doing that night,” he said. “He drank enough to fell five men!” He lunged at Nimaras and grabbed at his collar with both hands, shaking his brother in anger. “You took advantage of him, didn’t you?” he insisted. “You knew he could not resist your importuning in his state!”

“And you would excuse his conduct because of that?” Nimaras demanded, pulling away from Elivorn’s grip. “‘Tis not my fault if he accepted my overture.”

“But why did you make an overture in the first place?” Aelluin growled, swiftly comprehending what had taken place. “For shame, Nimaras! He is your brother’s betrothed!”

“Was if Legolas runs true to form,” Elivorn said. “Ah, it shames me to call you brother this day!” he seethed at Nimaras. “It shames me that we share the same blood.”

With that he strode out of the room. After a stunned moment, Aelluin muttered an imprecation of disgust and left as well. Nimaras grimaced, disbelieving that they should turn on him. He saw that Lalorn was regarding him with dismay and distaste.

“Why do you look at me thusly?” he snapped.

The sixth prince bit his lip then said in a low, strained voice: “Elrohir was right all those years ago. Even Wargs do not turn on their own.”

He walked away, leaving Nimaras to stare after him in astonishment and the beginnings of uncertainty.

Meanwhile, Legolas ran blindly down the corridor, his eyes clouded by imminent tears that he stubbornly forced back. Many Elves called out to him in alarm or curiosity at his distress but he paid no heed to them. Only one matter flooded his mind. Only one thing battered his heart.

He finally became aware of his whereabouts when he stumbled into the great feasting hall where his father feted important guests or events of significance were celebrated. He dazedly looked about until he recognized the spacious chamber. Like a child untimely bereft of a parent’s care, he hesitantly made his way to the wide balcony that opened upon the woods beyond.

He placed his hand on the ancient oak whose branches overhung the balcony and ran it up and down the worn trunk. Memories of that first nocturnal encounter with Elrohir came rushing back and he bowed his head, his sadness almost crushing in its strength. It was a long fall indeed from the pedestal upon which he had worshipfully placed the Elf-knight. A harsh sob escaped him.

“Legolas…”

He whirled around, wrenching his shoulder from the gentle grip that held it and glared warningly at Elrohir. The younger twin was flushed from chasing after Legolas all the way from the gaming room. But Legolas did not see his anxiety or care for his discomfort.

“Cuckolded, by Elbereth!” he snapped. “And by my own brother no less. How he must laugh at me for being so trusting!”

“Legolas—”

“And you aided him! You left me in the dark all these years. Was it so pleasant an “ordeal” that you could not bring yourself to confess your complicity in it to me?”

“Nay! I recall nothing of what happened between us!” Elrohir protested. “Neither pleasure nor pain or even how I came to be in his bed…”

“So you did share his bed!” Legolas cried. “Ah, and I’d hoped against all hope that I had misheard or that you did not protest his claim merely out of shock!”

Elrohir desperately sought to bridge the distance between them. “Legolas, please let me explain—”

He extended a hand in supplication to the archer but Legolas evaded it and stepped out of reach. His eyes blazed with a cold blue fire, rage and disillusionment in their crystalline depths.

“Blackguard,” he grated out. “Vow-breaker. You led me to believe you honorable when you would not take my virtue. But in truth you did not need to bed me for it seems you found your release in the arms of others! How many, Elrohir? How many have come before me?”

“It was only that one night, Legolas, and never again. I swear there has been no other before or since!”

“Why should I believe you?” the prince scoffed. “Why should I trust you who plied me with sweet words of courtship then sought Nimaras’ company behind my back!”

“I did not seek it!” Elrohir denied. “I was drunk!”

“Ah, then all I need do is drink myself insensate and none will fault me for indulging myself with any Elf who catches my fancy!” Legolas shot back.

“What – what do you…” Elrohir stuttered. “What are you saying?”

“Think you I care to bind to my brother’s leavings?” Legolas spat, too hurt and bewildered to stay his tongue. He took grim satisfaction when Elrohir blanched to a startling degree.

“You are breaking our troth?” the Elf-knight cried, aghast. “Over this?”

“Over this?” Legolas sarcastically repeated. “You betrayed me, Elrohir! You broke your word. You said you would be mine alone. But now I learn I have shared you with another!”

“But I was unwilling!” Elrohir said pleadingly. “‘Twas not my desire!”

“Did he force you?” the archer challenged. “Tell me he did and I may reconsider.” When Elrohir could not respond in affirmation, Legolas bitterly laughed. “Say not that you were unwilling then. Do not add an untruth to your sins!”

Try as he could, he could not keep his tears from falling at last. Yet anger was what he showed Elrohir though the root of his rage was a combination of overwhelming grief and leadening disappointment. With a strangled sob, he savagely pulled off his betrothal ring. Through the years, it had been repeatedly remade to accommodate his growth into maturity. Other than those times, it had never left his right index finger. Now, as he clutched it in his trembling fist, he thought that his finger felt so horribly empty. As did his heart. He wondered if the feeling would ever go away or if he would find another who could banish his instinctive yearning for Elrohir.

Even now he could not deny his attraction to the younger twin. Could not stop himself from responding to Elrohir’s many graces. Even when fear and unhappiness marred his otherwise near flawless face, the Elf-knight was beautiful beyond compare.

Steeling himself against his treacherous emotions, he approached a disbelieving Elrohir. Wordlessly, he took the Elf-knight’s hand, noting its sudden clamminess but forcing himself to ignore the twin’s obvious anguish. Silently, he laid the band in Elrohir’s palm and curled the latter’s fingers around it. Though in truth he was now more sorrowful than enraged, he wiped his countenance clean of any softness.

“Fare you well, my lord,” he coolly and curtly said.

With that, he turned and walked away with nary a backward glance. Elrohir stared at his retreating figure, stricken to his very core. So great was his shock that he could not weep or call out or so much as unclench the hand that held Legolas’ ring. He remained rooted to the spot for the Valar only knew how long, unmoving, unspeaking, virtually unseeing.

It was how Elladan and Galvreth found him. So white of skin and dull of eyes that he could have passed for a sculpture of exceptional lifelessness. Worriedly, Elladan touched his shoulder, took his hand when he did not respond and at last grasped him by the shoulders and gently shook him. Only then did any semblance of awareness return to his twin’s silvery eyes. To be replaced soon enough with a look so lost it chilled Elladan to his very marrow.

“Elrohir?” he tentatively asked. “What is wrong, muindor?”—brother?

Elrohir swallowed hard and a sheen of moisture caused his eyes to glisten though no tears spilled over but merely hovered on the brim. Pulling listlessly out of his brother’s grip, he looked from Elladan to Galvreth, his pain etched with awful clarity on his face. He looked down at his clenched hand and the others did likewise. He opened his hand to reveal the ring that rested in his palm. Elladan swore inaudibly while Galvreth murmured a regretful, “Sweet Eru.”

Elrohir did not look at them but kept his gaze on the silver band. “‘Tis over,” he brokenly whispered.

He closed his fingers about the ring once more. Before either Elladan or Galvreth could say a word, he spun on his heel and strode away, his head bowed.

“Eru, no,” Elladan groaned. He closed his eyes as if to dispel the image of his brother’s misery. When he opened them, they gleamed with tears not of sorrow but of fury. “Ah, I rue the day he agreed to tie himself to a Thranduilion!”

He heard the pained gasp beside him and recalled Galvreth’s presence. Quickly, he faced the argent-haired prince, an apology springing to his lips.

“Galvreth, I did not mean that you—!”

Galvreth raised a hand to halt his speech. “I know you did not,” he said with a sad smile. “I understand. Elrohir’s grief strikes you as hardily as if it were you who bore the brunt of Legolas’ disdain.” He sighed. “Yet I hope you do not bear a grudge against him. He is as much a victim as your twin.”

Elladan shook his head. “Only a cur or a wantwit would blame him for any part of this mess. Nay, if I bear a grudge ‘tis against your whoreson of a brother. Forgive me, Galvreth, but I wish this very moment that I could hang Nimaras from the highest gallows in Middle-earth. And still that would be too kind a fate for him!”

“I should protest,” Galvreth murmured. “But in truth, I must perforce agree with you that it is too mild a sentence for him. I confess I am shamed to own him my kin in this hour. And I warrant the others will feel likewise, even Adar.”—Father.

**********
The brethren left Eryn Galen the following morn. A troubled Thranduil and all his sons save Legolas and Nimaras saw them off. The king had been shocked by the turn of events and the cause thereof upon being apprised of them at breakfast. He had attempted to dissuade Legolas from taking such harsh measures but came up against his son’s righteous anger and badly shaken confidence. Yet despite witnessing Legolas’ grief he could not muster any indignation against Elrohir.

Thranduil knew more than the others save Elladan perhaps what the Elf-knight had borne down through the years while awaiting his betrothed’s majority. That he had erred was hardly surprising given his Half-elven nature – the blood of Men ran in the Peredhil’s veins and one could expect them to harbor many of the earthy passions and needs of that mortal race. But Legolas was in no state to listen to this or accept it. And the hurt that was at the root of his hardness could be laid at Nimaras’ door.

Thranduil sighed as the twins silently mounted their steeds and joined their Imladrin warriors. Hardly had he and his sons begun to mend from the loss of Haldoron when here was another cause for mourning. Yet this was by far the worse crisis for the evil had not come from without his borders but sprung forth from the very heart of his family.

He would have to keep Legolas and Nimaras apart if he were to avert a coming to blows between them. Bad enough that there there was now nigh an irreparable rift between them; he would not allow the greater sin of brother taking arms against brother to further stain their honor or sully their peace. It was not that he did not believe Nimaras culpable for the current imbroglio. Indeed, he abhorred the manner in which his fifth-born had revealed the truth and had openly decried the deed as well as Nimaras’ refusal to apologize for his actions or to even admit the odiousness of his behavior. But neither was sufficient ground to pass severe judgment on Nimaras. It bespoke long festering resentment and an appalling lack of kindness but not necessarily real malice.

Furthermore, during the confrontation with his sire, Nimaras had offered his side of the sordid story and claimed a slackness of good sense due to having consumed much more wine than he ordinarily could tolerate. And both Elivorn and Galvreth and even Elladan had reluctantly admitted that he left their company that eve pleading overindulgence as the reason for taking to his bed soonest. Who could have predicted that he would catch up with Elrohir or that the younger twin in his inebriation would accept assistance from him? Apparently, one thing had led to another and though Elrohir’s memories of that night remained hazy, Nimaras’ recollection of it had returned in full. Or so he said.

That bothered Thranduil even more than the actual tryst. Nimaras insisted that he had only remembered what happened during his scouting expedition with Elivorn. The Elven-king suspected otherwise. But in the face of Nimaras’ staunch declaration, there was little he could do except to banish his wayward son to indefinite sentry duty on the distant southern marches of the Woodland Realm. As far away as he could possibly put him from Legolas without Nimaras leaving the kingdom completely.

The twins and their escort vanished from sight. Thranduil wondered when they would return. If they ever did. Legolas’ coming-of-age two years hence perhaps? If only out of duty to continue observing the alliance between Imladris and Eryn Galen he guessed they would return. Hopefully, Legolas would have gotten over his pain and disappointment by then and reconcile with Elrohir – if not as affianced lovers then as friends at the very least. After all, that was how they had first started out.

He glanced at his sons and marked Galvreth’s forlorn mien. Again he sighed. He very well knew what grieved his silver-haired son. Eru willing mayhap another match might yet come of the alliance even as the one that had been the reason for it in the first place had unraveled so unexpectedly and painfully.

**********************************
Glossary:
Ada – Papa
Peredhel (pl. Peredhil) – Half-elf/Half-elven
Thranduilion – son of Thranduil

To be continued…