Laer, Eryn Lasgalen, 30 F.A. (3051 T.A.)
Legolas’ heart thudded in his chest. He tried to shake off his nerves, to convince himself that this was merely a conversation between father and son. There was no reason for his agitation, but he found that he could not dispel his concern. He well knew that Thranduil had been angry with him, furious that he had agreed to join the Nine, the king’s worry and fear clouding his judgment. And then, when the prince did not immediately return home, he had learned how his father had railed at ungrateful, spoiled princes whose loyalties lay elsewhere.
Despite his anger, the king’s hospitality had not waned, and Gimli now commanded a cozy suite in the guest quarters, while Legolas retired to his own room. Having arrived shortly after dawn, very few were about and the prince took the opportunity to wander the halls. Many of their folk had taken ship and a good many had returned to the trees where they were most comfortable, so the halls were quiet and empty, feeling almost melancholy in the early morning.
As he neared the king’s chambers, Legolas met a serving maid carrying a platter with breakfast, no doubt destined for the king. Smiling at the young maid, he lifted the tray, causing her to blush. “Here, let me. I will take this to my father. You run back to the kitchens and enjoy your own breakfast.”
Curtsying, she smiled, “Thank you, your highness.”
Legolas watched her hurry down the corridor, giving him a moment before he turned and rapped on the ornate door. He felt foolish. When a child, he never knocked. Instead he would burst in, gleefully jumping upon his father’s bed to wake him. Even when grown, this chamber was as much his as the king’s. So much had changed in such a short time. Hearing no reply, he tapped loudly and then cracked open the door.
Thranduil’s voice came from the bedroom. “Just set it on the table. Thank you, Hanneth.”
Closing the door behind him, Legolas did as bid and then stood in the center of the room, shifting from foot to foot as he looked about the chamber. It had not changed. The large painting of his mother and him when he was young still hung over the mantel. His father’s desk still overflowed with scrolls and parchment, looking as though the entire pile would come tumbling down with the merest hint of a breeze. The large bookcases were there, many of his childhood volumes still on the lowest shelves. This was familiar and comforting, but the prince now saw it all through changed eyes. Home was found with those he loved, not in some cozy room.
The door to the bedroom opened and Thranduil stood there in only his leggings, his long blond hair still wet and dripping down his bare back. His eyes were wide from surprise. Great joy lit his face and his azure blue eyes sparkled as he rushed to his son and grabbed him in a strong embrace. Legolas relaxed and hugged his father tightly. He had so missed this. There were times when the thoughts of home and all that could be lost if he failed were the only thing that kept him going. He had fought for this.
“Littleleaf, I was so worried…” Suddenly Thranduil pulled away and the joy on his face dimmed, replaced by a steely mask. “So why did you suddenly see fit to return home? Has your king no need for your bow any longer? Or did you want something from my realm? Some offering for your new lord?” He railed and clenched his fists, the swirl of his emotions overwhelming him.
“Adar, please… let me explain…”
“Explain what? That you volunteered for a suicide mission, and the only word I have received throughout all these years as to where you were or how you fared were in missives from Gondor? From a Man?” His fears and hurt were laid bare in his eyes. “You could not take the time to come here, to see how your people were, yet you could roam Arda with a dwarf? Do you even know what happened here? How many of our people died?” He was shouting now and pacing, the long years of suppressed emotion finally erupting.
“Thranduil.” A rich, soft, sleep-warmed voice halted him. Two sets of identical blue eyes turned to the bedroom door where Erestor stood with a sheet wrapped around his lower half. Immediately the king was at his side and he gathered the debauched body in his arms, nuzzling at the love marks on the pale neck. Erestor’s still drowsy brown eyes closed and he leant into the embrace before whispering to his lover, “I know what you feel, meleth. But he is here now. Do not force him away.”
Thranduil nodded and pushed tousled raven strands away from his lover’s face. “You are as wise as ever. I will try to listen and not rage at him,” he said, his voice gentle and full of adoration.
A soft smile graced Erestor’s full lips and he kissed Thranduil teasingly. “I will bathe while you talk with your prodigal son, then I will join you.” He gently pushed the king back and closed the door. Thranduil took a deep breath to calm himself and pressed his forehead to the carved panel. Erestor spoke the truth. He needed to move past the hurt and anger and rejoice in his son’s return, even though he well knew it was only for a short time.
When he turned, he was surprised by the tight expression on Legolas’ face as he stood with his arms crossed. “So the rumors are true. I had hoped not.”
“Rumors?” Thranduil was puzzled for a moment and then he understood. “Who I take to my bed is not your concern. It never was in the past and it most certainly is not now.” He crossed his arms and unconsciously mirrored his son’s stance, both glaring with cold eyes and pursed lips.
“I was certain that my father would never take another’s lover to his bed, but I see that I was wrong.”
Legolas’ accusation ripped through Thranduil and he stormed up to his son, only long years of control kept him from slapping that look off his son’s face. “How dare you! You know nothing of what has happened and you accuse me?”
“But, Adar, he is not the one that your heart cried out for all those years. Another holds his heart. How could you?” Concern was clear in his voice and his face softened.
Thranduil slumped, the fight gone, as he dropped onto the sofa. It surprised him how easily the pain returned. No matter how much he willed it away, it never truly left.
“Iôn, sit. Have some tea. I doubt this was how either of us planned for our reunion to go.”
Legolas sat in a chair near his father and struggled with himself. There was so much to speak of and he worried about how it would all be received.
“Forgive me, Adar. It is none of my business. I just thought…” He poured a cup of tea and took the time to prepare it before finally looking up. “After Naneth…” he cleared his throat and took a sip of tea as he tried to find the courage to continue. “After she passed into Mandos… when you told me that you were not bound. That Naneth did not wish it… I had hoped that you might yet have a chance…” He fell silent, his father’s ashen face seeming to say he had presumed too much.
Thranduil gritted his teeth against a maelstrom of emotions: grief, guilt, fear, and sorrow. He shook his head to force them away and replied softly, “Nay… there is no chance… no longer. I saw to that in Imladris.”
Needing to be close, Legolas knelt on the floor beside his father and pressed his cheek to Thranduil’s thigh. His heart ached for his father. “I am sorry that I did not write or come home sooner. I knew your mood and did not want to face you, so I stayed away. The longer I was gone, the harder it became to return.”
The king sighed softly and brushed his hands through the pale golden strands, taking comfort and reassurance while offering the same. “I was so worried for you…”
“I am here and well… more than well, Adar. In truth, I have never been happier.”
Thranduil grinned. He had heard that tone in Legolas’ voice before, “So who has laid claim to my iôn’s heart this time?”
Hesitating for but a brief instant, Legolas swallowed and then spoke, the smile in his voice and on his face growing as he continued, “You did always know me so well. I had not imagined it was possible, especially amidst the darkness and turmoil of war, but I have fallen… hard. I have never felt such joy… I am whole now. Elrohir has asked me to bind with him… and I have agreed.”
Thranduil closed his eyes and willed his body not to react. How was it possible? His son, bound to his former lover’s son? A soft “Nay!” burst from his lips. “Not him! I will not allow it!”
Legolas stiffened and stood, his body vibrating with anger. “You would deny me this? I am not you, Adar. I will not let stupid pride prevent my happiness!” Storming to the door, he shot back over his shoulder before slamming it behind him, “You will not keep me from him!”
Erestor hesitantly walked into the silent room, wondering what had happened. Thranduil sat on the sofa, staring at the painting over the mantel, tears sliding down his cheeks. As he ensconced himself next to his lover, the dark-haired elf sighed. He wrapped his arms around Thranduil and spoke soft words to coax out the tale.
A loud knock froze Legolas in place. He frowned and then continued throwing things into his pack before shouting, “I said I am well, Gimli! Just leave me be and we can depart at first light.”
The knocking continued, and Legolas rolled his eyes at his persistent friend. “Very well. Just wait a moment.” Tossing the pack aside, he stalked to the door and jerked it open. “Adar?” he gasped.
Thranduil sighed. His son should not be shocked to see him. Erestor had been right. He could not let Legolas leave, not while things were bad between them. Looking past his son, he asked, “May I come in? We need to talk.”
Legolas did not move or open the door wider. His eyes glittered coldly and his mouth was drawn in a thin line. His entire body radiated suppressed anger.
The king bit back his temper and asked again, “Please, Littleleaf? We cannot part on these terms.”
His father’s pleading eyes convinced the prince and he stepped aside, walking to the sitting area and dropping onto the overstuffed leather chair. The nervous tapping of his fingers on the arm belied his relaxed and unconcerned demeanor.
Thranduil followed and sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa. The king spoke softly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I was shocked and could not imagine you and… and his son. You caught me by surprise, iôn. Can you forgive me for reacting so badly?”
Legolas remained silent. Thranduil was not sure he even knew his son any longer. Stillness and silent contemplation were never the prince’s strengths. He was as rash as his father, so the silence was unnerved him. As the tension became almost suffocating, Thranduil was about to explode, when Legolas replied quietly. “Adar, I want your blessing. I need for you to be happy for me... for us. Can you do that?”
Taking a deep breath, Thranduil stood and pulled his son up and into his arms. “I have only ever wanted your happiness, Littleleaf. If Elrohir makes you such, then you have my blessing.” Straightening his arms so that he held Legolas at arm’s length, the king growled, “But if he ever hurts you, he will pay. Enough tears have been shed because of his line. I will not have yours added to the tally.”
The prince smiled and moved back into the king’s embrace. He was home and his heart’s desire granted. “Hannon le, Adar.”
“You are staying for a time, aye?” Thranduil pulled Legolas with him into the corridor. “Then we must have a celebratory drink… you can tell me when the ceremony will be.” He stopped in the hall and turned to look at his son. “I am invited?”
Legolas playfully slapped his father’s shoulder and then wrapped his arm about the king’s waist and began to walk again. “Of course! You have to stand with me. I could bear no other in your place.”
Thranduil’s heart was lighter than it had been since Legolas rode away those many years ago. He could now be satisfied with his life. His son had returned home, safe and sound. His realm and people were finally free from the darkness that had oppressed them, and a beloved friend and companion, Erestor, graced his side. Even though he would never know the completion of a soul bond, the love and affection he shared with Erestor kept Thranduil content It was not all he had hoped for, but it was more than he had expected.
Smiling widely, he led Legolas into his rooms and stopped, momentarily stunned at the dark vision before him. Erestor sat on the sofa, one leg curled under him while a bare foot idly twirled in the thick rug. His head was tipped sideways and white teeth nibbled at a full lower lip while he concentrated intently on a book.
Erestor felt eyes upon himself and quickly placed a bookmark and set the book down. Looking up, he was gratified to see his king and the prince together, wearing matches grins. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” He smirked. The councilor could see that Thranduil practically vibrated with excitement. Arching an eyebrow he waved at the chairs. “Well, do not just stand there! Sit and tell me!”
Thranduil sat down next to Erestor and placed an arm about his shoulder, while Legolas took a nearby chair. Erestor looked from one to the other, hoping for an explanation. “Thranduil. You both look as though you are the cat that ate the canary. Now please? Would someone explain?”
Legolas took pity on the councilor and spoke, “Elrohir and I are to be bound and Adar has given his blessing.” The prince’s words were measured. He was overjoyed, but still hesitant around the dark-haired elf. Erestor did not belong in his father’s arms.
“That is wonderful news, ernilen! I am so happy for you both.” Erestor turned his head to Thranduil and spoke in a teasing voice, “And, you, aranen. No threats. Elrohir is a wonderful ellon and will take good care of your iôn.”
Thranduil held up his hands in mock protest. “I? Threaten? Whatever could you mean?”
Erestor rolled his eyes and poked Thranduil in the ribs before turning back to Legolas. “So, when is the ceremony and where? Do you need help with the plans? With anything?”
As Legolas watched his father and the councilor interact, he relaxed. Erestor obviously cared for the king and seemed to be good for him. The thought eased his worry and he smiled back at Erestor. “It will not be for quite some time… ‘Roh wants to wait until we sail. He hopes that his mother can attend. And I need no ceremony to know that he is my soul mate… the only one for me.”
While he was speaking, the prince did not notice the fleeting glances and worried looks cast between Thranduil and Erestor, but the lingering silence when he stopped woke him to the sudden tension in the room. “Adar? What is it? What is wrong?”
Sighing, the king took a slow breath and ran his hands through his hair before reaching out and grasping one of Erestor’s hands. “Iôn… there is no easy way to say this.” He looked up and met Legolas’ eyes. “We are not sailing.”
“What?!” Legolas jumped up and began pacing, his actions so like his father. “What are you saying? That you have given up? That you… that the King of Mirkwood has conceded defeat?” He shook his head. “I can not believe what I am hearing. Why?”
Despair stole into Legolas’ voice and Thranduil ached. “There is nothing for us in Aman. We are content here. Neither of us were born there, we feel no craving to see the White Shores.”
Legolas stared in disbelief. It had never occurred to him that his father would not sail… that he would ultimately be separated from him for all eternity. He cried out, “Nay! This is not the end of it!” The prince then fled the room.
Thranduil stood to follow but was held back. He turned to look at Erestor who spoke quietly, “He cannot understand right now, but give him time. He just needs to come to terms with it. Give him space to do so.”
By the time Legolas and Gimli were ready to depart Mirkwood, it appeared that the prince had come to terms with his father’s decision. The reality was anything but. Legolas was as stubborn as his father and he would yet have his father in Valinor.
Iavas, By the banks of the Anduin, outside Lothlórien, 121 F.A.
Silent grief surrounded the small encampment. Elladan stood staring into the fire, his grey eyes clouded and lost. Legolas leaned against a tree holding Elrohir tight to his chest while his mate came to terms with their loss. King Elessar had died and now Arwen Undómiel had passed from Arda and gone where her brothers could not follow.
As the days went by, the trio spent their last nights together in this land reminiscing, talking of brighter days and the mischief they had wrought. Finally one such story reminded Legolas that he would be joining the twins in soul searing sorrow when they sailed without his father.
Elrohir could not bear for his mate to hurt and through silent communication, the twins decided to reveal what had occurred with Erestor’s parcel, though it shamed them that they had failed in their duty with such grave consequences.
With the truth bared, Legolas realized he had the perfect tool to entice his father to Valinor. Erestor. Once plans were made, the trio set off for Thranduil’s halls the next morning. The prince was determined, they would leave no others behind.
Iavas, Eryn Lasgalen, 121 F.A.
Thranduil greeted the grieving trio and offered his hospitality. He was eager to meet and gauge his son’s choice of mate even if the circumstances were not ideal. As they were walking down the halls, Erestor rushed up and the sorrow suffusing the party lifted in a joyful reunion.
After the arrivals were refreshed and had eaten, they joined the king and Erestor in the king’s chambers. It was an intimate gathering that began awkwardly but soon eased into long and pleasing conversations and reminiscing. Thranduil sat back, mostly watching Elrohir, but his eyes would often drift to his lover and he realized how much Erestor had missed his home. It saddened the king as he watched how animated Erestor could become when regaling Legolas with stories of the twins’ reckless youth.
Legolas also watched, his eyes upon his father and Erestor. The friendship between them had not waned, developing into a sense of great affection suffused with a greater love born of loss. He still felt that they were each missing something, each incomplete. When his eyes settled upon Elrohir and he felt himself grow warm under his lover’s regard, he recognized what was missing – the passion and depth of a true bond. Each was grieving the loss of something they had not even fully acknowledged. The prince grew ever more determined. The elves before him would sail and be reunited with those that could complete them.
His eyes met Elrohir’s and he gave his lover a slight nod. Sighing, Elrohir turned to Elladan, and echoed Legolas’ nod. //It is time, tôren. We have put this off far too long.//
Elladan cleared his throat and moved to his knees before his old mentor. Elrohir quickly joined him as the tension grew. Erestor gazed at them both, his confusion evident, “Wha’? Elladan? Elrohir?”
Thranduil looked to Legolas but his son would not meet his eye. Something momentous was about to occur and he reached for Erestor’s hand.
Elladan spoke, his voice filled with guilt, “Forgive us, Erestor. We should have told you this long ago, but it was always easier to put it off due to the urgencies of the war, or the aftermath, or any number of excuses…” He sighed and looked up at the adviser. “Your parcel… the letter for Glorfindel… he did not receive it until it was too late.”
Elrohir spoke up, their guilt hard to bear, “We arrived at the Havens after their ship had left the dock. Elladan just managed to lob it to Glorfindel… forgive us. With the war and everything that occurred, the parcel was misplaced. We found it when we were emptying some wings of the House.”
Reaching for his twin’s hand, Elladan blurted out, “If it helps, he was greatly affected by your letter… and the rings.” He looked to Elrohir, “We both saw him fall to his knees…” his voice trailed off, not knowing how to make the revelation better.
Erestor froze in place, his face an unreadable mask, and Thranduil felt him begin to shake. He quickly glanced at his lover, worried, and turned back to the others. “Thank you, Elladan… Elrohir. We can talk some more tomorrow. I think Erestor needs some time to consider what you have told him.” His eyes sought his son’s and he was relieved at the concern he saw there.
Legolas stood, “Come. It is late and we are all tired.” He glanced back at his father before he closed the door behind them.
Erestor looked down at the hand that was in his, staring as Thranduil slowly stroked his thumb against the back. His head swam with confusion, his heart pounding as old wounds and fears resurfaced, forced out into the open by blinding hope.
Thranduil shifted to his knees and wrapped his arms around his lover while murmuring, “He did not reject you, meleth. He never knew.”
Erestor nodded, blindly, eagerly, “He believed I had rejected him. What… what do you think I should do?” His chest hurt from the riot of emotions roiling over and through him and he hesitated, relying on Thranduil’s support more than ever.
The king inhaled, long and slow, before answering. “You sail. You talk. You apologize...” he lifted Erestor’s chin and kissed his nose, “You bind to him… as you were meant to from the beginning.” His own long buried emotions threatened to overwhelm, but Thranduil had more practice at suppressing the pain and he did so once again. “I am happy for you, but I will miss our games of chess. I think I finally had a chance to win on a consistent basis!”
Erestor chuckled and moved to rest his head on the king’s shoulder. He knew what Thranduil was attempting, but would not let him get by with it. “That is why you will be sailing… once you best me, there is still Elrond, a far better player than I.”
Thranduil stiffened but Erestor would not let him go. “Aye, meleth. We are taking this journey together… or not at all.” He pulled away to look into the king’s blue eyes, “I am not the only one that needs to go to Valinor and you know it. If there is hope for me, there is hope for you. Seize this opportunity because I will not leave Middle-earth without you.” Erestor’s voice took on an edge Thranduil knew well. The adviser was as stubborn as the king, if not more so, but he was also cunning and Thranduil knew when he was beaten.
Raising his hands, he nodded, “I give up. I would never deny you the chance to reconcile with Glorfindel. You belong together. As for my own problems, they are as easily ignored in Valinor as they are here.” He shrugged and tried to be nonchalant, but Erestor knew him well and knew that the king was as terrified as he was.
“Then we must hurry! There is much to do!” Erestor stood, his mind whirling with plans and Thranduil smiled, heartened that his lover might yet have the chance at love that he deserved.
The White Shores swam into view as the fog cleared and the deck filled with elves craning their necks for their first glimpse of Aman. Erestor wrapped his arms about Thranduil and rested his head against his lover’s back. “Before we arrive, I must tell you something…”
The king turned and embraced the dark-haired elf. “I am always here for you, meleth.”
Erestor smiled into Thranduil’s blue eyes, their blue so near and yet so far from Glorfindel’s. He lost his train of thought for a moment as anxiety washed over him at finally seeing the golden warrior again. He shook his head and regained his equilibrium, “I just need you to know… no matter what happens, I am grateful for you… for all you have done for me. Your love and care kept me whole and I shall be here to offer the same for you, though I doubt you will need it.”
Thranduil smiled back at Erestor. He had no hope of regaining Elrond for far too much distrust and pain had passed between them, but he did pray that Erestor would be forgiven and taken back by the one that completed him. “I love you, and soon you will be reunited with your other half.”
Erestor glanced over Thranduil’s shoulder. “We are nearing the docks. Will you alight with me?”
“Aye. As in all things, I am at your side.”
Erestor hesitated. He watched the twins and Legolas hurriedly disembark and could not contain the smile when they were reunited with Celebrían. He was overjoyed at seeing his lady whole and happy once again. Thranduil stood behind him, nudging him gently, as he whispered, “You cannot stay here for all eternity, meleth. Do you not wish to speak to Celebrían?”
He turned to look up into Thranduil’s eyes. Nothing but love and compassion shone from them. Whatever happened, Erestor would always have the king’s support. He steeled himself and straightened, swallowing visibly, “Aye. I am ready.”
Slowly, deliberately, Erestor walked down the gangplank and stepped onto the docks. He felt Thranduil’s comforting presence at his back and moved forward. He scanned the throng, but he did not see Glorfindel. Visibly slumping, he hesitated before joining Celebrían and the twins. After embracing his lady, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, his eyes met Elrond’s and he was engulfed in a tight hold.
The advisor was reunited with his family and he felt a long missing warmth suffuse his being, even as he noticed that Thranduil was no longer near. Erestor sought his lover and he found the king and Legolas talking to a statuesque blonde who was hugging the prince, her eyes shining with tears. He smiled. It gladdened him to see their family together once again.
Just as he began to fear that he would have to seek Glorfindel out, a large force moved through the crowds on the docks. Erestor tilted his head in amusement as he watched elves being shoved out of the way in someone’s haste. Suddenly Glorfindel burst through the masses, and the world vanished for the two elves.
The blond stopped, suddenly unsure, but he smiled sheepishly and held up a crumpled and yellowed letter. “Forgive me?”
Erestor leapt forward, his arms wrapping around the blond’s neck, a ragged, “Aye!” burst from his lips before Glorfindel leant in and kissed him, stealing all breath and sense from the advisor. He opened and submitted to Glorfindel’s touch, unable to resist even had he wanted to. No other’s touch had consumed him, conquered his very soul in a whirlwind of emotions tangled with heated desire. Even while sharing pleasure with others, none had ever so fully claimed him and Erestor’s entire being rejoiced at once again being completely owned by the Elda.
He finally tore his mouth from Glorfindel’s and gasping, looked into his love’s eyes. “Do you… will you…” He stuttered hesitantly.
Glorfindel silenced Erestor with a shake of his head and a finger pressed to his lips. “I understand and forgive you.” He kissed the advisor once again, this time tenderly. “I was afraid that you had given up on us.”
Erestor shook his head, linking their hands, “Never. Will you… will you bind with me?”
Glorfindel pulled the small velvet pouch from his pocket and tipped out the four rings into his hand. His eyes shone when he looked up and met Erestor’s gaze. He tried to speak, but the blond was too overcome for words, so he nodded vigorously.
Reaching for the rings, Erestor placed the larger gold one on Glorfindel’s finger and waited, breathlessly, as the blond placed the smaller gold one on his finger. He smiled timorously up at the blond. Glorfindel closed his hand around the other two rings before pulling the advisor closer, “I feared I would never hear that question… that I had pushed you away… lost you forever.”
They embraced, both clinging tightly as though fearful it was a dream that would fade if they let go. Their kiss was long and lingering, neither wanting it to end.
Thranduil watched, a wistful smile on his face. He was happy for Erestor, but sad for himself. He refused when Legolas beckoned him to join his new family. It might be his son that was to be mated with Elrohir, but Thranduil did not feel part of the group. Instead, he turned and gazed eastward, wondering if he should have come after all.
Elrond watched the reunion unfold, glad that Glorfindel’s fears were unfounded, although he had felt the same worry… that Thranduil had successfully seduced Erestor, turned his heart from the Elda. He shook his head at the pair as they walked away, arms linked, bodies touching. He had never seen either of them radiate such pure joy. A soft smile graced his lips as he looked at his expanding family.
His smile fell when his eyes landed upon the tall, powerful blond standing at the edge of the dock, away from all others. It did not seem possible, but even without seeing his face, Elrond felt drawn to the lone figure. As he studied Thranduil’s form, eyes lingering over every sinew and curve, his heart began to pound in his ears. Too much had passed between them, but Elrond had learned the peace of forgiveness for himself and others during his years in Aman and he realized that he felt no more anger toward the king. Elrond swallowed, unsure he had the nerve to approach Thranduil no matter how many times he had played this scenario out in his mind. With a deep breath, he steeled his shoulders and moved forward, determined that he should have a chance at love, too.
A gentle touch to his shoulder broke Thranduil’s reverie and he turned, then froze as his eyes met with unexpected mithril grey. Swallowing, he licked his lips and nodded, answering the silent query in Elrond’s eyes. Finally the Peredhel found his voice, “Can we… can we start anew? Put the past behind us? Forgive the hurts… all of them?”
Thranduil nodded, slowly, deliberately, before he reached out and cupped Elrond’s cheek, a soft sigh escaping as he touched the warm skin, “If you can forgive me, I want nothing more.”
Elrond closed his eyes in pleasure and covered Thranduil’s hand with his own. They still had much to work on, but it was a good start on their forever.
Translations:
adar – father
aranen – my king
ernilen – my prince
hannon le – I thank you
Iavas – early autumn
iôn – son
Laer – summer
meldir – friend (m)
meleth – love
mellon nín – my friend
naneth – mother
Rhîw – winter
tôren – my brother