VELVET AND GOLD
Genre: LOTR, slash
Pairings: Legolas/Estorel, Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: very mild R
Warnings: a wee bit of angst
Author's notes: the first chapter was "Day 5" of the Yuletide Tales 2004 (just in case it looks familiar to you). As it happens, a plot bunny bit my leg and it ended up being a three-chapter-story. :-)
Chapter 2
Accepting Elrond's invitation had been a mistake. Legolas had known that all along, but his father and especially Nonfindel had insisted that it was time for him to return among the living, and not wall himself up and spend his days mourning any longer.
The living - what lovely company they had been. Legolas remembered well that Yule 70 years ago. He had sat here in the very same seat, a glass of mulled wine in hand, Gimli sitting next to him and two little Dwarflings playing at their feet. The son of Erestor and Glorfindel had come to keep them company, ask blunt questions and compliment Legolas for being 'a beautiful Elf'.
Legolas laughed without mirth. Gimli had broken a leg and could not travel, the two little Dwarflings were all grown up and had children on their own, and as far as the 'beautiful Elf' was concerned - well. It was not very likely he would hear the same compliment again this time.
Legolas he had never sung his own praise, it had just been the truth: he had been beautiful. If it had not been for his total lack of vanity that fact could have been his downfall. But as it just happened, his downfall was the people of Breon, setting Mirkwood on fire the second day of Yule 60 years ago. It had taken the Elves many days to extinguish the fire, many lives had been lost.
Legolas closed his eyes. If at least it had been possible for him to make a funeral pyre for his wife and son, if there had at least been the chance for a decent 'farewell'. But there had only been ashes left, of trees, animals and his family. She had never wanted to live in the Great Cave, and as with everything, he had given in to her wishes. If only he had refused her that one wish, if only he had insisted on her and the little one living at the Great Cave, then she could have been sitting with him now. And their son? Would be a youth now, a little older than Estorel had been back then.
If, but, when. Legolas cursed his father and Nonfindel for talking him into coming to Imladris. The festivities had been torture. Nobody mentioned his loss, nobody approached him about his scars, everybody pretended that nothing had happened and treated him as if he was still the happy-go-lucky Legolas of old days. The forced cheerfulness around him made him angry; Erestor's understanding silence when he sat with him by the fire was a bliss. He had left hours ago, claiming that he had to look for Estorel.
Coming to think of it, Legolas had not seen Estorel at all so far. Nobody had. Erestor had made some excuses, mentioning that his son was having a difficult time, but from the conversations Legolas had overheard, the oldest son of Erestor and Glorfindel must have been quite a handful. They said he was spending his days in the woods, did not obey any rules and caused his parents a lot of sorrow.
Legolas looked up. Somebody had entered the Great Hall, he could feel it.
"Come forward," he ordered. "I do not like those who hide in the shadows."
"And I do not like those who order me around in my own home," came the arrogant answer.
"You do not sound like Elrond, so unless the Master of Imladris has retired and handed over his duties to you, this is still his home."
"True. But you sit in my seat."
Legolas squinted his eyes. In his younger days, it would not have been a problem for him to see his visitor, even if it had been pitch dark in the Great Hall, but the fire had damaged his sight.
"My apologies. There was no sign on it to inform me about your ownership," he said. "So why not come into the light so we can fight about it? I would be just in the mood."
A chuckle, then a tall Elf emerged from the shadows. For a brief moment, Legolas thought it was Erestor, but on second look, it became obvious that he was talking to Estorel.
"Ah, the evasive one. Shall we fight over your seat now, or will you accept, just for this evening, the seat next to me?"
Estorel looked Legolas over without shame. Legolas did not mind, he preferred the scrutinizing gaze of the young one to the embarrassed stares of the other guests.
"If I cannot have my seat, then I shall sit in front of the fire," Estorel said. "What happened to your face?"
Legolas was taken aback by this blunt question, but he also felt relief. Estorel had just asked what everybody else thought, and Legolas preferred the direct approach.
"Your manners leave a lot to be desired," he said, curious to see Estorel's reaction.
"If you would not want company, you would have retreated to your rooms. One who sits by the fire in the Great Hall, with an empty seat next to him, does wish to talk."
Legolas arched an eyebrow.
"You are rather bold for one of your age, Estorel. But you might be right. Maybe I do wish to talk."
"So tell me, what happened to your face? I remember what you looked like when you were here the last time. Now your face is marred with burn marks, and your arm is crippled."
"You are very blunt."
Estorel shrugged.
"Would you rather that I sat with the others and talked about you behind your back? Poor Legolas, so terrible, it is such a tragedy, and then smile at you when you walk by? I want to know what happened, so I ask you."
There was no malice in the young Elf. Legolas leaned back in his seat and stared into the fire.
"There is not much to tell. The people of Breon set Mirkwood on fire, I lost my wife, my son. Many families mourned the loss of loved ones, I was just one of them. We fought the fire for many days, but there is only so much an Elf can do. They said I was lucky to escape."
"But you do not agree."
Estorel seemed to read his mind; and he spoke out loud what nobody else had dared to so far.
"No, I do not agree. I know I should be grateful that I live, and that there is a reason why I am still here, but it is true, I rather wish I were in the Halls of Waiting, with my loved ones."
Estorel nodded, he seemed to have expected that reply. He turned his head, and Legolas could study him. Erestor's stern, cold beauty combined with the arrogance of a young Glorfindel, that was his first thought. A long nose and thin lips which could have looked cruel if it had not been for the gentle brown eyes.
"I know of what you speak, Legolas. They look at me the same way they look at you, wondering how I can look so normal while I am some obscure error of nature. I can see how they wonder what I am, male or female or something else altogether, if I am an Elf or not. My Sia ignores them and really does not seem to care, but it makes me angry. Ada is angry as well, but he hides it. I hate them for their curiosity and ignorance, for staring at me and whispering behind my back. I am an imperfection in a perfect world, an ink stain on an otherwise white sheet."
He turned his head to Legolas, who saw the anger and hurt in those young eyes.
"Hence, I take the liberty of not joining their festivities. I rather sit on a tree and watch the stars."
"So that is what you did tonight? Watching the stars?"
Estorel nodded.
"It is a clear night. No candles or firework could ever be as beautiful as the night sky in all its glory."
Legolas stood up and put the glass aside.
"Show me then, Estorel. I prefer the night sky to the candles as well, and in any case your company to the one of the other guests."
Estorel looked rather surprised.
"This was not meant to be an invitation."
Legolas hinted a bow.
"That is the reason why I invite myself, Estorel. I used to be rather amusing company."
Estorel stood up from the floor in a quick, fluent motion, a sign of his Plains Elf heritage. No normal Elf could have moved with such elegance.
"You have not asked me," Estorel said.
"Asked what?"
"What I am."
Legolas smiled.
"As far as I am concerned, you could have a dragon's tail hidden under those garments, Estorel. I would not understand it, anyway, so it does not make much difference to me."
Estorel tilted his head.
"I remember the last time you were here. Soft velvet, golden hair and your smile. I always remembered that. Especially your smile."
He reached out and touched the sleeve of Legolas' robe.
"Not much has changed, Legolas. Come."
Estorel headed for the door, and Legolas followed him.
* * *
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