Title & Chapter Number: Razor's Edge Trilogy 1: One Sweet Memory 1/2
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Elrond/Thranduil
Timeline: Fall of 3021
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elrond sets sail with the Ringbearers, leaving Thranduil behind in Middle-Earth.
Notes: This follows the "One Step Closer" trilogy. This trilogy will answer all the questions and more. ^^ There is a companion trilogy staring Haldir and Celeborn, since they made an appearance in "One Step Closer" and in "Razor's Edge." I will be posting "Before The Dawn" sometime next week, after all four parts of this trilogy have been released. I hope everyone likes the finale!
Grey Havens - September 28th, 3021 of the Third Age
Elrond stood by the shore, looking out over the Sea. He was filled with anticipation and excitement, mingled with a deep sorrow. Just over two years had passed since his daughter's wedding. His sons remained in Imladris, having taken their rightful place as Lords of the valley. There were not many still residing in the Last Homely House, many of them were here with him. But, members of his staff, like Melpomaen and Lindir, remained behind. He knew Rumil and Orophin were expected after they completed their tasks in Celeborn's service. His home was now one of the last refuges for their kind.
Arms snaked around his waist and he leaned back into the warm comfort of his Chief Councilor. Erestor's pain was still there, was still raw and sore, but he had survived his parting with the golden warrior. They would set sail at first light on the morrow, but right now the peaceful lull of the waves and cool, salty sea-spray caressed their pale faces.
"Thranduil never came, never tried to reconcile with you?"
Erestor had been in Gondor most of the past year, helping Elessar and Legolas. This was their first opportunity to speak in some time. "No, he never did. Celeborn sends word to me from Eryn Lasgalen, telling me that the King is in good health, though poor in spirit. I would go to him if I thought he would see me."
Erestor released his Lord and smiled softly at him. "We are all here for you, my Lord. Perhaps, when time has eased his shame and guilt he will seek you out in Valinor."
It was a small hope and one Elrond held onto with a death grip. He needed to believe Thranduil would come to him. Erestor began his trek back up to the main house, but turned with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked somber in his dark robes, his hair loose and flowing in the breeze. "You should try one last time, meldir. Give him the opportunity to say goodbye. You may never get the chance again."
Elrond nodded, watching his friend's shape disappear in the distance. Goodbye, something Erestor never got to say to Glorfindel. Perhaps... perhaps Thranduil would let him in, let him speak for a moment.
The Peredhel easily cast his mind out, away from the shore and over the vast mountains, through the dense woods and echoing caverns, following that warm, pulsing essence of his lover. His eyes, shining like high polished mithril in the moonlight, gazed sightless to the West. His vision was of the cozy bed chamber Thranduil was laying in, the scent of pine enveloping the salty air.
/Melethron?/ Elrond felt the shock of the other mind, mirroring his own that he had gotten through to the King. It had been so long since he felt those thoughts, those emotions and that deep love that he was pleased to see still existed between them.
/Elrond./
/I didn't expect for you to answer./
/We never expected a lot of things./
Elrond send a wordless answer, one of sheepish agreement. /I wanted to say goodbye./
/Goodbye?/ Elrond became dizzy for a moment when Thranduil sat up suddenly from his bed. /Elrond, is that the Sea I smell?/
/Aye, it is. I am sailing with Galadriel, Erestor and the Hobbits tomorrow. Among others. I am leaving for Valinor./
Shock reverberated through their connection. /How did it come to this?/
A sharp sting of humiliation, anger, betrayal, and jealousy heated the link between them -- Elrond allowing Thranduil to see exactly how they had come to this. To him standing in the Grey Havens giving a farewell to his lover of three thousand years while said lover was in his bed in Eryn Lasgalen.
/Are you saying this would not have happened if I had not bedded Melpomaen that night?/
Elrond shook his head. /I am saying that we are here, now, because of that action. What could have been is not worth arguing over. What is simply is, meleth. And what is is that we are over. But, I needed to say goodbye -- I owed you that./
/Amin mela lle./
/I know. Amin mela lle, Thranduil. But, it doesn't seem enough anymore./
/I don't believe it ever was./
They were silent for a while, Elrond ignoring the tears of bitterness finding their way down his cold cheeks and Thranduil wiping them from his own. The Imladris Lord took a steadying breath and cast a wave of affection to Thranduil, sharing sweet memories with him -- memories to last them an eternity.
/Goodbye, Thranduil./
Elrond's eyes cleared, becoming cool grey once again and his knees gave out under his weight. On the shores of Lhûn, Elrond Peredhel wept for all he had lost.
~*~*~*~
Eryn Lasgalen, Realm of Thranduil - September 30th, 25 of the Fourth Age
Thranduil stood alone in the large audience chamber looking with a sad heart at the now-empty room. The walls were bare of their exquisite tapestries, the ornately carved chairs were packed away, even the raised dais that had housed the throne had been removed and broken down for the journey.
It had been roughly two years ago that Celeborn had come to the Mirkwood King and expressed his intent to empty East Lorien and travel to Imladris to await his departure to the Grey Havens and Valinor beyond. Thranduil had taken the news to his people and inquired of their wishes. A great number of the Sylvan Elves had agreed that their place was no longer in what remained of the Great Greenwood. Preparations had been made since then, culminating today in the start of the journey of his and Celeborn's peoples to Imladris.
Imladris. The name still sent dual pangs of love and regret straight to his soul. The irony was not lost on Thranduil that today was the anniversary of the day Elrond Half-Elven stepped on the shores of Valinor. The Sinda remembered the sting -- like a great blow to the stomach -- that had signified to Thranduil that his bondmate was no longer in Middle-Earth. While the bond did not immediately vanish, there was a great emptiness in Thranduil's mind nonetheless, as he could no longer feel Elrond's emotions or Farspeak him. His love was truly gone from his world.
It was his duty as King of this realm to go once more over the echoing halls of his home. All doors lay open to him, each as empty and lifeless as the other. Memories swept over him; he had spent close to six thousand years in these halls... He could barely remember a time outside of this cavernous palace. Those few centuries spent in Lindon were Ages past, almost another lifetime. When he was young and very much taken with the High King's Herald, when he was ruled by his father's desires.
He had married his wife in these halls... paced up and down them while she gave birth to their first son. His son's wails could be heard all through the palace and many rejoiced with their King. He regretted those early years, though, with Sîdh... He had been new to being a King, still lost in his grief over the loss of his father. His sons would never know the might that had been Orophor, King of Greenwood the Great.
Thranduil entered the room that had been the nursery for all three of his sons. He had not learned to love and play with them until Legolas came into his life. From the moment he held his youngest, his heart was no longer his. The bright, shining eyes that reminded Thranduil of the Sea... so blue and deep. He had spent as much time with Legolas as he could spare. Playing games through these rooms, hiding in the alcoves and weaving around his advisors as Legolas and he played chase games.
The King of Eryn Lasgalen sighed and turned from the room he had occupied as King all his long years. His wife's comforting presence beside him, warm and welcoming, accepting his name and the right to bear his heirs. His sons jumping up and down on the great bed that had once stood in the center of the room. Melpomaen helping to pass the cold, lonely nights after his wife left for Valinor.
His final memory, the one he held onto the most, was of the last winter he and Elrond spent together in Mirkwood. They had barely left the room, having meals brought to them and bathing in the King's private baths. They had played chess until the sun kissed the sky... Spent long hours in silence while reading books... They had made love each night... But Thranduil's most prized memory was his simplest. Waking each morning before Elrond and watching his love sleep, innocent and without worry in his dreams.
He slowly made his way to the large gates that once protected his people from the evils that had infested the Greenwood. Thranduil stepped heavy, making his footsteps echo through the vast, desolate palace. He would never again see his youngest son's shining head run through the stone corridors, calling out to him in eager happiness. He would never give audience to the Men or Dwarves that populated the lands outside his realm. He would never again ride through the dense wood, inhaling the fragrant scents that budded in the spring.
He would never see his great home again.
It was over.
~*~*~*~
Imladris - June 15th, 30 of the Fourth Age
He had resided with Celeborn and the Peredhel twins for five years in Imladris. It was strange for the two great Elf-lords, lost without kingdoms but with their Elves still looking to them for guidance. The House of Elrond was full of voices once again, helping to ease the pain Thranduil felt after leaving behind his empty wood.
Celeborn's days, though, were spent locked in one of the many rooms. Thranduil had thought to ask once who it was that would weep or scream from behind that closed door, but chose to let it lie. Elladan and Elrohir had become wonderful Lords, presiding over the busy community that Rivendell had become once again. Thranduil thought Elrond would have been pleased to see how his sons took to leadership. They both had worried about their children and their roles in this life.
Reclining in the sun on one of the lawns, Thranduil turned his face up to the golden warmth. Yes, Elrond's beautiful sons had taken to Lordship well. Just as his own son had. Legolas had taken up the wooded areas near Emyn Arnen, just as he had warned the twins decades ago. The Elves there adored their Prince, who was a fair ruler -- if one could call him a ruler. Legolas spent much of his time in either King Eomer's court in Ithilien or in Elessar's great home, advising the King.
Life had moved on. The times were not as difficult. And they had been sent word from Legolas that Arwen was with child, she was expecting a son in the next few months. Thranduil and Celeborn had already decided that they would journey to Gondor when the time of the birth came closer and Elladan insisted Elrohir go with them. Thranduil had made the case that Elladan should accompany them as well, but Elladan felt that one of the four should remain in Imlardis. He chose himself.
Another development in his new life in the valley of Imladris had been his bed partner. A few months after arriving with the last of his Elves, Melpomaen had come to him. Last year, he had asked the Advisor to share his quarters with him. There was still that hole in his heart and soul where Elrond had once been, and their bond still reminded him of all he lost, but it was comforting to once again wake to a warm, welcoming body. To indulge in carnal pleasures and have someone who missed the times past as well.
Elladan and Elrohir had not been pleased with the new rooming arrangement, but Celeborn had kindly reminded them that Elrond had sailed and that Thranduil had every right to seek a new lover. Elladan had balked over it for a few weeks, but Elrohir, who had inherited his grandmother's gifts, had only smiled sadly at him. Elrohir knew Thranduil's heart and the pain and guilt he relived every moment. But, only Elrohir. Not even Melpomaen knew the depth of his shame and longing for Elrond.
So lost in his own torment, Thranduil did not notice the dark-haired Elf approach. When his shadow blocked the bright rays from above, Thranduil's eyes focused on the compassionate face of the Noldo. Melopmaen sat astride Thranduil, leaning down to cover the mighty King's body with his own.
"My Lord, you will miss the afternoon meal."
Thranduil cupped Melpomaen's face in his hands and smiled softly. "Why do you remain here, with me?"
The Advisor sighed, leaning down to kiss his lover gently. "I stay because I am needed. It is good to be needed. The twins desire my counsel, you desire my presence. Why must I leave behind my home and those I love when I am not ready to?"
The Mirkwood Elf's eyebrow arched. "Love?"
Color suffused Melpomaen's cheeks and he drew back from the Elf-lord. "I am sorry, my Lord, I did not mean to imply that..."
"That what, hodoer? You did not wish to imply that you loved me?" Thranduil lifted himself up onto his elbows, his level, emerald gaze boring into his lover's dark chocolate one.
Melpomaen sighed heaviy and stood from Thranduil, his back to his Lord. "I do love you, my Lord. Though, I know you do not, and cannot, love me. I cannot stop the whim of my heart, though."
Thanduil stood and wrapped his arms around the slender waist hidden in thick robes. "Forgive me, lirimaer. I care deeply for you, I always have, but my love is not for you. If you wish for us to cease our relationship, I will understand."
The Advisor turned to him suddenly, pulling the King into a deep, passionate kiss. After long moments, he pulled back and looked into the depths of Thranduil's green eyes. "No, my Lord. To do such a thing would break my heart more than remaining in your arms for whatever time we have together."
The blond Elf brushed a wayward braid from Melpomaen's brow and smiled. "You will find an Elf worthy of your love and affection, Melpomaen. I know you will."
The were silent for a moment, then Melpomaen's bright smile graced his face once again. "We shall be late, my Lord. Elladan and Elrohir have had a special meal prepared for you! They say it is the foods they found in your court, long ago when they fostered in Mirkwood."
Thranduil allowed his lover to pull him toward the small dining room they shared. They took their meals together, in the room where Thranduil realized he loved Elrond more than he had when he met him in Gil-Galad's court in Lindon Ages ago.
That night, when he had felt part of a true family once again, seemed a lifetime ago.
And, he supposed, it was.
~*~*~*~
Tirion, Valinor - August 21st, 68 of the Fourth Age
Elrond laughed, watching the five She-Elves dancing, weaving the long ribbons around the tall pole with an intricate design. He sat on the stairs leading to his home, basking in the presence of his family. Beside him, on his right, sat his best friend. Erestor had a sparkle in his eyes that the Peredhel had missed over the years. That sparkle was due to the attentions of the Noldo who sat beside the Councilor. Gildor had been caring and gentle with the broken-hearted Elf and Erestor flourished under his tender ministrations.
The three Lords from Imladris dwelled together, sharing a modest home. Erestor had been reluctant in the beginning, but Gildor and Elrond had settled him in nicely and they were close and as happy as they could be. To his left sat one he had not expected to find, one he had never met, but was related to. Thingol laughed as Nimloth ducked under Galadriel, nearly running into Earwen. Celebrian danced out of Idril's way; Elwing laughed and missed a step, tripping slightly on her long skirts. After a moment, however, everyone recovered, and they returned gracefully to the fluid pattern.
Leaning on the support column next to Gildor was Turgon, relaxed and noble, watching the women with a faint smile. Sitting on the low railing that circled the front of Elrond's home was Dior, who called out a cheeky comment to his wife, causing Nimloth to blush furiously and Galadriel to chastise him good naturedly.
Yes, he was as content as he could be without his sons or his lover.
Thingol leaned over, clasping Elrond on his shoulder. "Tell me, Elrond, do you not have children with your fair wife?"
The great Elf had only just become aquainted with his kin and was eager to learn all he could. Elrond felt Erestor stiffen next to him. Just like Elrond, Erestor worried about the fate of the twins should they choose to come to the shores of Valinor. Elrond cleared his throat. "Aye, we have three children together. Twin boys and a daughter."
Turgon had turned his attention to the Half-Elf, not understanding his reluctance to speak of his children. He and the others had also noticed that Celebrian resided with her mother, not with her husband. Although much was known in Valinor about every Elf in residence, the three Elves from Imladris who sat on the stairs had kept much to themselves and their family would not comment. "Do you not wish to discuss your family, meldir?"
Elrond sighed.
"Elrond," Erestor whispered, "they are your kin. You should speak of them, even if they never come to us."
Elrond nodded and looked at his wife's laughing face. "Arwen chose to wed the King of Gondor. She has chosen the path of Man and will pass after Elessar leaves Middle-Earth."
"I am sorry, Elrond," Dior said, his brow furrowing with obvious sorrow. "It must be a relief to still have your sons."
"I am not sure they will come here." Elrond leaned his head on Erestor's shoulder, drawing strength from his old lover. "Their lives are... complicated and I am sure they fear the Valar and their judgement on their life choices."
"What could they have done to receive the wrath of the Valar?" The idea of Elrond's sons having done something that dreadful upset Thingol terribly.
When Elrond remained quiet, Erestor took it on himself to explain. "Elladan and Elrohir have chosen one another as lifemates. They share an intimate relationship with one another and fear the Valar will condemn their love."
"Though," Gildor added, "they share that love with their bonded, Legolas -- Orophor's grandson."
Turgon smiled. "I am sure Orophor will have words with Thranduil once that child arrives. He tried his damnedest to keep Thranduil from the Noldo, and now his grandson is bonded to not one but both the Peredhil heirs." A chuckle was shared among the group.
Elrond cleared his throat. "Those shall not be the only words he will have with his son, should Thranduil arrive here."
Dior cocked his head as Thingol raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?" asked Dior.
A broad smile crossed Erestor's face. "Because our Lord here is the bondmate of Thranduil Orophorion."
Another round of laughter was shared, then Elrond felt the meloncholy return. "I am not certain he or my sons will come to us."
"Your sons have nothing to fear, Elrond." Elrond raised his head from Erestor's shoulder to regard Thingol with a questioning look. "What? Did you not realize your own line? Why, you and Celebrian are cousins. Celeborn and Galadriel were cousins, as well."
"Nimloth and I are cousins, as well," Dior piped up.
"Love is love, meldir," was the piece of knowledge Turgon offered. "The Valar do not judge love. We love who we do, and sometime we marry because we must."
Erestor was chuckling, reveling in the look of pure shock painted on his friend's face. It was then that Turgon leaned down between Erestor and his lover, whispering in the Councilor's ear. "I wouldn't laugh, if I were you. There are surprises in store for you about *your* heritage, meldir."
Erestor's eyes widened. "Do not tell me Gildor is my brother... or Glorfindel was my cousin..."
The rich sound of Turgon's laugh sent shivers down the Noldo's spine. "Oh, you are not related to either Gildor or the golden warrior, but you do share a deep relationship beyond your knowledge with Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower."
Fear crept into Erestor's heart. "What...?"
Turgon offered his hand, ignoring the odd looks from Gildor and Elrond. Everyone else assembled knew what Erestor was about to find out, but they respected Manwe's request that no one frighten the Elf. "Come with me, Erestor of Imladris. You have an audience with Manwe himself shortly."
~*~*~*~
Grey Havens - January 15th, 126 of the Fourth Age
Thranduil stood aboard the ship with the last of the Elves leaving Middle-Earth. This was the final trip for Cirdan, the way to Valinor would be closed after they landed. They had left Imladris behind, where Thranduil had resided for the last century. They had been good years, years spent with the twins, Celeborn, Haldir and his brothers and with his lover. Melpomaen had been a wonderful companion, someone Thranduil had grown to love, though not in the manner the Advisor had so sorely wished for.
He no longer felt guilty for his relationship with Melpomaen. After seventy-five years together as steady lovers, Melpomaen had found one he loved who could love him as much in return. Rumil had surprised everyone when they announced the relationship. Thranduil had been pleased, very happy that Melpomaen would have all the selfless Elf deserved. His last years in Imladris had been spent without a bedmate; he just could not find it in him to take another to his bed. Melpomaen had been the only other Elf besides Elrond for Thranduil in the last seven centuries of the King's life.
Now, he was going home, going to Valinor. Going where Elrond had gone long ago. Legolas had sailed six years prior, leaving without a word to anyone and taking that annoying Dwarf with him. He planned on giving his son an earful when they got to land. The last of the Mirkwood Kings felt a nervous anticipation inside, wondering how much Elrond and Erestor had changed. He knew he had changed much: his temper had mellowed, and he had found humilty while living without his lover.
Thranduil spent most of the trip to the Blessed Realm in his quarters below deck, brooding over his choices and all the wasted time and all the squandered chances in his life.
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