Title & Chapter Number: An Unbidden Desire: Part 5/7
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Dimensions_of_Dhvana
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: With the exception of Menelhen, the characters and places in this story are the creation of Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Nope
Cast: Elrohir/Thranduil, Legolas/Elladan, Elrohir/Menelhen implied
Timeline: Pre LotR AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elladan sacrifices himself for Legolas, and Elrohir risks losing Thranduil.
Notes: Should only be another chapter or two left, and I promise, I won't make you wait several months for the end! ;) Hope you've enjoyed, and as always, feedback would be most welcome!
Part 5
Elladan's anger fueled him as he and Legolas quickly packed their things and left the castle. He could feel the emptiness growing inside of him. He knew the full impact of what he'd done would hit him, and soon, but he held onto his anger and his disappointment, using the burning of his emotions to keep him from collapsing. All he allowed himself to think was that he had to get as far away from the Greenwood and its Lord as possible.
Legolas followed him, as Elladan knew the golden Prince would. He also knew that his beloved was simply waiting till he calmed down before Legolas started yelling at him. His love wasn't about to attack him for his stupidity now-he would wait until he had Elladan's full attention, and then he would let his lover know just what he thought of him.
Even Legolas's anger would be welcome to him. It was expected, and at least, unlike Elrohir, he could always count on Legolas. The golden Prince would always be there for him, but he'd never be able to trust his twin again.
How could Elrohir do this to him, to their family, to himself? How could he let that monster touch him?
And that's all Thranduil was, a monster. Whereas Elves like Celeborn and their father devoted their lives to protecting their people, to protecting the Elven way of life, Thranduil devoted his life to himself, and as an extension of himself, his realm. He didn't care who or what he had to sacrifice in the process-including his son. All he lived for was his ego, his greed.
How could his brother attach himself to someone so heartless? Elrohir would only end up getting himself hurt.
Elladan shook his head. Elrohir was no longer his problem. There was no point in thinking about him-it would simply be a waste of his time.
"You're a fool."
Elladan ignored the golden Prince.
"How much longer are you going to let this go on?"
Silence.
"You can't just pretend for the rest of your eternity that your twin doesn't exist."
"I will. I am. It's already done. He is no longer a part of me."
Legolas grabbed Elladan's arm, turning the raven-haired Prince to face him. "What are you talking about?"
"I have severed the connection between us."
The green eyes widened as Legolas's face grew pale. "You can't do that."
"I can, and I did."
"Elladan, he's your twin. You can't exist without him!"
"And yet here I am, very much alive, existing quite well without that traitor."
"But for how much longer?" Legolas asked, his voice impatient with his lover's stubbornness and stupidity. "You cannot deny half of yourself and expect to live. You need him, Elladan, and he needs you."
Elladan's eyes narrowed. "Then he should have come with us."
"Why? What's so terrible about his relationship with my father that you would do this?"
"You, of all people, can stand there and ask me that?" he asked with a harsh laugh. "You, who know firsthand that your father is only steps from being part of the darkness, think I should approve of his relationship with my brother?"
"My father has to fight the darkness constantly. It is only natural that it has hardened him, but seeing him now, I realize that he is not so lost as I imagined. Elrohir is his light. Your brother has reminded him of the goodness he is capable of, and in return, my father has imparted some of his strength to your brother. Can't you see that they belong together, that they are meant for each other, just as you and I are meant for each other?"
"Do not dare to associate our love with their perversion!" Elladan snapped, and Legolas's eyes flared.
"If their love is a perversion, then so is ours. How many times have you told me I am little better than my father? That I am his mirror image?"
The Imladris Prince's eyes grew mournful, and he was ashamed as he looked at Legolas. "That was before I knew you, and I have apologized several times for my words since."
"But you know my father so well that you can pass the same judgment on him?"
His face turned cold. "As you see fit to bring up our past, how many times have I had to listen to you tell me of his cruelty, of his severity towards you and all the Elves here in Mirkwood? Your words are enough to make me hate him, because of everything he's done to you. I would not see my brother suffer the same fate."
"And what fate would that be? I do not see myself as suffering. As a matter of fact, in loving you, I have found it in myself to forgive him, and to try to understand him. If I can forgive him, you, who have suffered nothing at his hands, should be able to do the same."
"I cannot, and I will not, not so long as my brother is in his grasp."
"Then why punish your brother for your hatred of Thranduil? If there is the possibility that my father will hurt him, don't you want to be there at his side to support him?"
Elladan snorted, turning away. "Elrohir's no fool. He's always been the intelligent one. That he would go into this willingly only tells me that he deserves whatever happens to him."
"Elladan, you don't mean that."
"I do."
Legolas stared at him, then sorrowfully shook his head. "I never knew you were capable of such malice, Elladan, or such despair. It pains me to see you like this."
The raven-haired Elf turned his eyes on the Prince, allowing a hint of the fear he was feeling to surface. "Am I to lose your love as well, Legolas?"
The golden Prince smiled at him, though the smile failed to reach his eyes, as he pressed a hand to Elladan's cheek. "My love is something you will never lose, no matter how much of an idiot you are, or how many mistakes you make, or-"
"Legolas, quiet!" he whispered, his eyes wide as he looked at the trees around them. "There's something out there."
The listened for a moment, and the sounds they heard caused Elladan to draw his sword and Legolas notch an arrow.
"Orcs," they snarled in unison.
After a few seconds, Legolas shook his head, lowering his bow. "There are too many of them," he said softly. "We have to go."
Nodding in agreement, Elladan sheathed his sword and the two began to make their way through the trees. Graveled voices and the sounds of snapping branches grew nearer, and the two Elves exchanged nervous glances.
"They're gaining on us," Legolas said, and they broke into a run. "How did they get so far into Mirkwood?"
"I have a few ideas," Elladan growled, leaving no doubt as to what those ideas might be.
The golden Prince's green eyes narrowed. "My father would die before letting Orcs into these woods."
"He seems quite dead to me."
"He seemed very alive when he looked at your brother."
"Can we argue about this later?" Elladan growled as he ducked to avoid a low branch.
"Just so long as you know this argument isn't over."
"Fine," he muttered, taking a second to look behind him. There were shadows passing through the trees, far too close than they should have been. There was no doubt in his mind that they would catch up with them, and he refused to let that happen. He couldn't lose his entire heart in one day-he had to keep part of it safe. He drew his sword again, the motion catching Legolas's attention.
"Elladan, what are you doing?" he hissed.
"I want you to keep running. I'll distract them."
"Elladan, no! If you fight, I fight. I will not leave you."
"You don't have a choice," Elladan said. His arm shot out and he shoved Legolas, catching the golden Prince off guard. Legolas tried to find his balance, but it was impossible, and he went crashing down a steep hill. Seeing that his love was safely out of the way, Elladan turned and ran towards the Orcs, roaring his defiance as he attacked.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil paced back and forth across his chamber, casting anxious glances towards the bed where the ebon-haired Prince continued to sleep, oblivious to the world around him. He had failed to find Elladan and Legolas before they'd left, and while he had wanted to go after them, he had been unwilling to leave Elrohir. It had been with much rage that he had let them go, deciding to return to his Princeling's side, though it had done little good.
"Why won't he wake up?" the King demanded.
Menelhen sighed as he patted the Prince's forehead with a damp cloth. Thranduil's twitching, while endearing at first, was starting to get on his nerves.
"As I told you the last time you asked, and the time before that, and the time before that, he will wake when he is ready. If you will recall, I warned you a fight between them could be devastating. Though, I never expected Elladan to do this. He truly does not care for you, does he? To risk his brother's life by refusing him, to risk his own life-I didn't think it was possible. What did you do to him?"
"I wish I knew, so I could do it all over again," Thranduil snarled, kicking a chair as he passed by.
"Oh, yes, there's a wise plan," he said, rising from the bed and pouring a flagon of wine. "Sit down, Thranduil, and drink this. Your endless pacing cannot help him."
Knowing the King would never sit of his own volition, Menelhen snaked out his foot and tripped the Elf into a chair.
Thranduil glared up at him, his hands clenching with the urge to throttle the Healer.
"Enough with your temper. Drink," Menelhen ordered.
Curbing his instincts, Thranduil grabbed the glass and drank its contents in one gulp, throwing it across the room when he was finished. "Anything else I can do for you, Healer?"
"Be patient."
"You mean, sit here and do nothing?"
"You're right, that will never suit you," he sighed, then glanced at his patient. "If you want to help, talk to him."
"What?"
"He has been cut off from the one Elf who has always been there for him. Let him know he is not alone. Let him know you love him, and that you are here for him now, even if Elladan is not."
Thranduil was quiet as he looked at the still figure on the bed. "Will it work?"
"It cannot hurt," Menelhen shrugged and rose to his feet. Should Thranduil take him up on his suggestion, he knew that the King would need to be alone for this, as emotional outpourings from Thranduil that were hardly likely in private, would be much less so with a witness. "I'm going to my quarters to search through my books and see if I can find anything that will help him."
"Don't be long," Thranduil said, a hint of panic in his eyes. "He might need you."
"I will hurry, I promise."
The King waited to stand until the Healer had left, closing the door behind him. He walked hesitantly over to the bed where, if it wasn't for the expression of pain on his face, his Princeling seemed to be resting peacefully. He reached out to touch the cold fingers, then snarled, turning away, walking around the bed.
What did Menelhen expect him to do, to say? He was a warrior. He expressed himself with his sword. He was a King. He gave commands, and people obeyed. What was he to do in a situation neither sword nor orders would help him?
A lot shifted in the fireplace, catching Thranduil's attention. He paused, staring at the fire, at the two chairs placed before it.
"Do you remember that night you came to me so long ago," he began, his voice rough with the unfamiliarity of it all, "the night you chose to stay here in Mirkwood? My bold little Princeling, I almost laughed aloud at the terror in your eyes when I told you to remove your clothes. I never told you I was almost as terrified as you, terrified by how much I wanted you.
"I don't want people, Elrohir," he said, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous. It means they have control over me, and I cannot afford to let anyone have control over me. I have a kingdom to look after, and with the darkness constantly trying to take it from me, it requires my constant vigilance.
"But then you came along, and I found that I preferred to devote my constant vigilance to you. I tried to fight it, I tried to deny it, I tried to ignore it, but nothing worked. You were always there, either in full view, or simply lurking in the back of my mind."
Thranduil sat down next to him on the bed, taking the Prince's hands between his own. "Seeing you like this now, knowing I can do nothing to help you, knowing I might lose you, I have learned a new meaning for terror. I don't know how you managed to do it, but you have become more important to me than Mirkwood itself. You are all that matters to me now.
"If you are wondering why I have never told you this before now, it is because you already knew. I could see it in your eyes. I need to see it again," Thranduil said, his voice growing desperate. "Open your eyes, Elrohir, my beloved Elrohir. Let me see the love there, and see the love I feel for you in mine."
Elrohir's eyes flew open, and he sat up in bed, screaming as he reached for something that was not there.
"Elladan!"
~*~*~*~
"Just a few feet more," Legolas gasped, clutching his side, his left leg dragging slightly behind him.
He'd been saying this phrase to himself over and over again for the past hour as the pain had grown steadily worse, but he couldn't stop. He had to reach the castle. He had to tell his father. He needed Elves, warriors to send after the Orcs and rescue Elladan.
A wave of pain washed over him, pricks of light sparking before his eyes as he collapsed against a tree. "Steady, steady. Breathe deep. Let it pass. Come on, Legolas, pull yourself together! Elladan needs you!"
The pain didn't pass, but it did fade enough that he could push himself off the bark and keep going.
The wounded Prince stumbled through the woods in the direction of his father's castle, moving only through the strength of his will alone. The world around him began to darken as night grew near-the night would only provide a greater cover for the Orcs, allow them to move faster. He couldn't let that happen. They were already too far away.
The rustling of leaves reached his ears, the sound of a light breeze moving through the trees-but there was no breeze.
Elves, and they were in a hurry to be moving so recklessly.
"Help," he whispered, moving towards the noise. He took a deep breath, determined to be heard this time. "Help! Father!"
A tall being dressed in brown and green reached him just as his legs gave out and he fell to the forest floor.
"My Lord, over here! Healer, come quick!"
Legolas blinked rapidly, trying to focus as a range of faces appeared above him. He recognized instantly an unmistakable halo of white-gold hair and an icy gleam of blue. "Father."
"Legolas," Thranduil said, his voice soft with dismay as he knelt down next to his son. "Menelhen, now!"
"I'm here," the Healer said, brushing the warrior aside and sitting down opposite of Thranduil. "Where are you hurt?"
"Just a few broken ribs," Legolas said, "and my leg."
Menelhen ripped away the torn leggings of the Prince's left leg, Thranduil's eyes narrowing at the deep gash in his son's thigh.
"What happened?" he growled.
"Orcs," Legolas whispered, and the warriors around them straightened, staring with watchful eyes into the trees, ready to attack at the first sign of trouble.
"You were ambushed?"
"No," he shook his head. "We were walking, and they came upon us. We tried to outrun them, but there were too many. Elladan-" Legolas stumbled upon speaking the name of his beloved. "Elladan, he pushed me down a hill to keep me from being captured. It was not a graceful fall."
"And my brother?"
Legolas looked up into the darkness, the night sky framing a pale face and glittering eyes, and his heart twisted. His beloved's face, his beloved's eyes, but he was not Elladan, and how he hated Elrohir for it. "He charged the Orcs. I heard fighting and tried to reach them, but by the time I made it to the top of the hill, they were gone. There was nothing left-Elladan wasn't there. They've taken him."
The Son of Elrond stared down at him for a moment, then nodded. "Then we'll find him," Elrohir said, his voice cold.
"I'm coming with you," Legolas said, attempting to rise.
Both Menelhen and Thranduil pushed him down, saying, "NO!"
"You're not going anywhere, except back to the castle," Thranduil said, rising to his feet and motioning to two of his warriors. "See to it the Prince is returned safely. Help him to his room, and keep him there."
"Father, no! I'm going with you!"
"Legolas, you are injured," Menelhen said as he finished bandaging the cut in the Prince's thigh. "You've lost a lot of blood. You will make more noise trying to walk through these woods than a whole army of Trolls. You will only slow us down, and we need to reach Elladan as soon as possible."
Gnashing his teeth with impatience, Legolas slammed his fist against the earth. He knew they were right, that he would do more harm than good, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be angry about it.
"I'll return to the castle," he agreed, "but you bring him back alive!"
"We will," Elrohir said.
Thranduil and Menelhen rose to their feet and returned to their hunt through the forest, followed by all the warriors except the two assigned to the golden Prince. Legolas watched them with eyes that knew better, but still continued to hold on to hope.
~*~*~*~
The Orcs' trail wasn't difficult to find, but they were moving fast, and the Elves were forced to follow at a full run. It was near dawn by the time they caught up with the foul creatures, who were traveling far to the edge of Mirkwood where the trees gave off an air of menace towards the Elves. This part of the forest Thranduil had lost to the darkness long ago, and it was only natural that evil should seek shelter there.
The Orcs had apparently decided to stop and rest in the shadows of the trees and boulders throughout the day so as to avoid the sun as much as possible. This made them a convenient target for their pursuers. The Elves fanned out on either side of Menelhen, Elrohir, and Thranduil, each one searching for their captive brethren, but staying just beyond the edge of the light from the campfire.
Elrohir didn't need to look. Pain had lessened his brother's determination to keep up the barrier between them, and inklings of Elladan's suffering had been trickling through into his twin's psyche. Elladan was hurt, but awake, and even more important, he was alive.
Thranduil, who had been keeping a close eye on his Princeling, followed the violet gaze to a tree in the middle of the Orcs' camp. Several layers of rope were wrapped around it, firmly attaching a semi-conscious Elf to the trunk. Three guards stood around him, though from the way they were talking amongst themselves, they clearly did not expect the Elf to try anything.
Elladan's face and body were covered in bleeding lacerations and he seemed to be having trouble breathing, but his eyes were alert as he looked around the camp. Thranduil could only nod with approval at this show of the brat's spirit-even now, he was searching for a means of escape.
But it was the brat himself who pained Thranduil. Why did he have to have Elrohir's face? It was if he was seeing his own love tied to that tree, abused, beaten, helpless at the hands of Orcs.
He couldn't allow this to go on any longer.
Looking over at his Princeling, he found Elrohir watching him, those beautiful eyes filled with concern-concern for his brother colliding with concern for Thranduil. Such a confusion of emotions would only cause his Princeling to do something rash, and in that moment, the King made a decision. "Stay," he commanded in a whisper to Elrohir, with a gesture of his hand to his warriors.
"No-" Elrohir started to protest, but a look from Thranduil silenced him.
The King grabbed Elrohir, kissing him fiercely, then released his Princeling and moved into the light.
Elrohir watched with a bemused horror that the King was several steps into the camp before he was noticed. Elves would have noticed him before he'd even left the trees, but fortunately, Orcs were not quite so observant. Or intelligent. As they grew aware of his presence, Thranduil was surrounded by the horrid beings who jabbed at him with spears and rusted swords.
"Release your prisoner," the King commanded.
The Orcs started to laugh as the leader, wearing what appeared to be bones from various species around his neck, stepped forward.
"Why would I do that?" he asked.
"Because you are currently surrounded by my army, and on my word, they will kill you all if you do not."
The Elves in the forest each aimed an arrow at an Orc's heart, but they were far from having the numbers of an army. If the Orcs decided to attack, the odds were definitely against them.
The dark creatures peered anxiously into the woods, but could see nothing. The guards around Elladan dug the tips of their spears into his flesh, causing him to grunt with pain.
"Why should I believe you?" the leader asked, clearly suspicious.
"I am Thranduil, King of this realm. I do not lie."
The Orcs all shifted nervously as they stared at the regal Elf. Thranduil was a legend amongst their kind, and not for his graciousness towards Orcs.
The leader gave an uncertain laugh. "You? King? What would a king be doing out here searching for one puny Elf, who is about to become our dinner?"
Elladan glanced at Thranduil, clearly wondering the same thing.
"I will allow no Elf to remain at the mercy of the likes of you, not while they are in my woods."
"And what will you give me in exchange for his return?"
"I give you the chance to live."
"Once he is free, you will kill us all. I do not accept."
"You will live, because you will be holding me as hostage."
Thranduil could almost hear Elrohir biting his tongue to keep from objecting aloud.
"My army will not risk my life," the King continued, "so you will be free to leave these woods and do as you please. Or, we can all die right now, and be done with it. Your answer. Now."
The Orc looked at Thranduil, then nodded. "Tie him up. We leave immediately."
"And this one?" an Orc guarding Elladan asked.
The leader was silent for a moment, then upon glancing at Thranduil's frosty eyes, nodded. "Leave him."
Elrohir ground his teeth together as the Orcs roughly tied the King's arms behind his back, placing a loop of rope around his neck and pulling him along after them.
"At the first sign of trouble, kill him," the leader ordered, choosing a handful of guards to surround the Elf.
As he walked through the camp, graceful even when tied up and led by a leash, Thranduil's eyes moved towards the trees where his warriors waited. Elrohir caught his gaze, and nodded, a promise passing between them. Thranduil gave a slight nod in return, then was gone.
Once the Orcs were out of hearing range, the Elves moved towards the tree where Elladan was tied.
"Release him," Elrohir said, pointing to two of the Elves, "take him back to the castle."
"And what will you be doing?" Menelhen asked.
Elrohir looked at the Healer with wintry eyes, and when he answered, his voice equally cold.
"Saving my King."
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