Ithil was almost full.
And eyes were upon it...
The gaze of the tall, pale-haired elf standing on the balcony of his room within the guest wing of the Last Homely House, was deeply troubled. These last few weeks had been trying, and this night found Lord Hallaorn near the end of his tether.
After his outburst, on the evening Lord Elrond had spoken of the coming council, the proud Mirkwood elf had found himself being increasingly ostracized by the denizens of Imladris.
{ No one likes the harbringer of ill news... } He thought, bitterly.
Not even those elves who seemed to most closely share his views. But then again, those elves had already departed from this realm. He wished he could leave too. He was tired of seeing others avert their eyes when he approached and he was just as tired of hearing their hushed whispers at his back. They were treating him as if he had been the one to commit the griveous offense...Him!... Not their precious heirs, not Elladan and...
Elrohir.
His chest constricted at the mere thought of the name and the image that came, unbidden, caused a painful lump to lodge inside his throat.
Elrohir, yielding passionately to his brother's kiss... Elrohir, uttering a harsh whisper of warning, before gently caressing the other's face in a tender gesture of forgiveness... Elrohir, walking away with his twin towards their shared quarters, where they would...they would...
In his mind's eye, Hallaorn could see Elrohir's lips parted with desire. He could see those wondrous grey orbs gazing up, adoringly. He could see those perfect warrior legs, spreading open in wanton invitation, along with a soft entreaty.
{ Take me, seron vell... Take me... }
And it was he, not Elladan, who lowered atop that trembling body. His lips that joined in sensual communion. His cock that rubbed ecstatically against that awaiting hardness. His ears that heard those longed-for words. His mouth that answered them. And once again, as he had done everyday since the first time they had met, Hallaorn told Elrohir of his love, his devotion, his hopes for their future toguether. All the things that he had never dared say out loud. All the things that now lay shattered, along with his heart...
//
He had been out on that accursed night, wondering the darkened hallways, in hopes that perhaps he could ' accidentally' run into the younger twin. Somewhere in his love-sick mind he had thought that if he could find a way to be alone with Elrohir, but for a moment, the other elf would finally be able to see the heart that lay behind Hallaorn's facade of haughtiness and realize that they were meant to be toguether. His spirit had soared when he had heard his beloved's voice, only to deflate an instant later, as he realized that Elrohir was accompanied by his brother... always, by his brother.
And then, Hallaorn had seen...
Somehow, he had managed to stumble back to his own rooms, where he sat heavily upon the bed and stared blankly at the wall, his thoughts in a whirlwind. No, this could not be!. Elrohir must have been coerced into commiting this abomination!.
Hallaorn became convinced that he had to save him, to get him away from Elladan's clutches and so, then and there, he had written a long letter to his father in Mirkwood, detaling what he had seen and placing full blame for it on the eldest twin's shoulders.
He had managed to hang on to this righteous fantasy, right up to the night Lord Elrond had called that meeting in the Hall of Fire. He had watched the proceedings, waiting for his love to speak up and tell the whole room about Elladan's perfidity. But instead, he had looked on disbelievingly, as all the ruling members of Imladris stood in support of this hideous thing. And Elrohir...Elrohir... Elrohir had remained at his brother's side.
Hallaorn had broken then.
Words of hate had spewed from his mouth, fueled by the agony rending his heart. And when he had beheld the pure, soft light that had emmanated from the twins as they held hands, it had been for him a fire that burned the very last of his hopes to a cinder...
//
Since that night, he had watched from afar as the twins began to fade and the healer in him could not help but be horrified by the knowledge that he was the cause.
It was this anger, this confusion, this guilt that drove him out to the balcony. But even there, he could find no relief, for his ears picked up the strains of a sad melody, being softly sung by the unmistakeable voice of the twins' very sister. As the mournful words washed over him, Hallaorn looked up at the pale glow of Ithil and felt the first bitter tears begin to roll down his cheeks.
Too late. Too late to change things now...
Arwen's voice trailed off with a last melancholic note and she leaned back into Aragorn's comforting arms, her eyes gazing up at the night sky. At her soft sigh, Aragorn also looked up, noting with apprehension that Ithil had almost reached the fullness of its glory.
Beside them, two other pairs of eyes noted as well the near-complete roundness of that eery orb and they, too, felt a tight knot of fear settle heavily into their hearts. Fear not for themselves, but for the twins, whom they all loved. Glorfindel thought that he would rather face a Balrog once again, than to have to face Celebrian's grief when, at last, he returned to Valinor. While beside him, Melpomaen wished for the upteenth time that he had never placed that blasted scroll into the messenger's hands...
The haunting echo of Arwen's sad song linguered on inside a bedchamber, where two elves lay entwined upon silken sheets. The gossamer curtains flanking the large, open window fluttered softly from the same breeze that had carried the Evenstar's voice and Elrond found his eyes turning to the pale globe of Ithil, which was framed perfectly in the center of that portal.
Two more days until the council convened. Only two more days...
Lindir's sea-green eyes also turned to that direction and he sighed quietly against his lover's chest. The time had come to speak of his decision.
" Melethron." He said, softly.
" Aye?." Was the equally soft reply.
The minstrel raised his head to look up into the grey orbs that had now focused their attention back to him.
" There is something I must tell you..." He began, then paused for a moment before continuing. " My time has come. I am leaving Arda. I am sailing to the Undying Lands."
Elrond was not prepared for the sudden jolt of pain those words brought to his already battered heart. His arms tightened almost painfully around the other's slender form as if by doing so, he could prevent what had just been said from becoming a reality and his voice, when it came out, was a ragged whisper that asked a broken question.
" Is it?... Is it because?..."
" Aye." Lindir said, sadly. " Though not for the same reason that has caused others to leave. Yet it is the fact of those departures that has prompted my decision."
His long, elegant fingers came to rest against the face of this elf, who was not only his Lord and lover, but who had also become a treasured friend.
" I shall stay by your side until the outcome of the council. Then I will carry the tidings of it to your Lady and I will tell her... I will tell her..."
Lindir's voice broke, as he watched Elrond's eyes fill with tears. He took a deep breath and when next he spoke, he was steadied by the resolve in his heart.
" I will tell her the truth, Elrond. The truth of the wondrous love shared by her sons."
The minstrel's lips reached up and brushed a gentle kiss upon his lover's cheek, tasting the faint saltiness that was now spilling freely from the Lord's eyes.
" I cannot find the words to tell you what this means to me. That Celebrian will know..." Now it was Elrond's voice that broke, as he was overwhelmed with gratitude.
" Shhh...my Lord. You have no need to find any words, not with me."
With one last kiss, Lindir laid his head back down to rest upon his lover's chest and the two elves resumed their tight embrace, their eyes turning once more towards the pale light outside the window...
Leagues away from the Last Homely House, two other sets of eyes also looked at that luminescent point in the night sky.
Elladan and Elrohir lay side by side upon the lush grass of the hidden glenn listening to the soft, even breathing coming fom where Erestor and Ja-zel lay, lost in reverie. No words were spoken by the twins, for no words were needed. They knew their reprieve had come to an end. Beneath the watchful glow of Ithil, their hands reached for each other, clasping tightly, as they waited for morning to come...
TBC...