The Hunter

PART 17

"If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I'll kill you," Erestor said when he entered the room, immediately crossing the room to sit on Elrohir's bedside.  The advisor grabbed one of Elrohir's hands, his pallor betraying the worry he really felt. 

The half-elf sat up, moving to wrap an arm around his fiancé.  "I'm sorry, Erestor," he murmured into the other's ear.  "I promise I won't go on another scouting mission for at least a decade.  Does that appease you, my love?"

Erestor sniffed, but seemed to calm slightly now that he could feel Elrohir in his arms.  Elrond watched the scene with a gentle smile, leaning into the supportive embrace of his own husband.  From the doorway Arwen tugged happily at Glorfindel's hand, happy to see her brothers back. 

"Will you stay until the wedding?" Elrond asked, brushing a kiss to his husband's cheek.  The last two days had left him completely drained and now, with his husband near, he felt incredibly lazy.

Oromë arched an eyebrow.  "You mean they're still not married?" he asked incredulously.  "It's been over two centuries!"

"Don't get me started on that," Elrond said, rolling his eyes.  Their exchange earned them identical glares from Elrohir and Erestor, though everyone else in the room snickered. 

Amused by their reaction, the Hunter tightened his hold on his husband.  "I believe I can stay for the wedding, but not much longer.  When is it to be held?"

Erestor and Elrond exchanged a look.  "Well, it was to be held in a month, but now . . ." the elder half-elf trailed off, gazing at the white bandages now covering his sons' wrists and ankles.

"It still will be," Elrohir said suddenly.  "My wounds will be healed by then, and so will Elladan's.  We won't let any orcs change our plans."

"Elrohir," Elrond said wearily.  "Your brother's legs are broken.  He will not be able to stand by your side as witness."

"He will," the younger half-elf said stubbornly.  "Tauron will help," Elrohir continued quickly when he saw his father would protest further. 

Oromë tightened his hold further.  "Your son is right.  I did not want you to weary yourself now, but tomorrow I will lend you my strength again and you will be able to heal their injuries more quickly."

"But will that not drain you?" Elrond asked worriedly, though the idea of quickly easing his sons' pain was very appealing.  Oromë kissed the back of his husband's neck.

"I draw strength from the world itself; there is energy to spare."

Elrond sighed but nodded.  Pleased, Elrohir leaned back against his pillows.  "Do you think you'll be ready by then, Elladan?" the younger half-elf asked.  His question was met by silence.  Everyone turned to look at Elladan, who was staring off into space.

"Elladan," Elrond called.  His strong tenor broke through to his son, who turned to find everyone staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Is something wrong?" his father asked, moving out of Oromë's comforting embrace to sit on his eldest son's bedside.  Elladan shrugged, looking over his father's shoulder to the Vala.

"Who came with you to rescue us?" he asked quickly.  Oromë's eyebrow lifted in perfect mimicry of his husband's favored expression.

"My brethren Ulmo and Námo," he said.  A quiet yip from the corner made him turn to where his dog had retreated.  "And my hound Ronyo."

"Who took them?" Erestor suddenly demanded, his hold on Elrohir's hand tightening painfully.  Oromë sighed.

"It was Ancalagon," he said gravely.

"Ancalagon?" the others repeated incredulously.  As expected, Elrond voiced the obvious problem with that statement.

"But the dragon was killed.  My father threw it down from the heavens," he said, gently stroking the back of Elladan's hand.  Oromë put a comforting hand on his shoulder, still feeling a residual echo of fear in his husband's soul.

"Apparently it was not killed, but its body was broken.  I do not know by what dark art Morgoth charmed it, but the parts of the dragon moved apart from the whole.  Ancalagon itself was no more than a head."

The others blanched at the description, especially Arwen.  Glorfindel put a supportive arm around her.

"If it can survive without vital organs, how can you be sure it's truly dead this time?" Elrond asked, biting his lip in worry.  Oromë smiled at the old gesture, which he had not seen since the half-elf's youth.

"We left no body for it.  We incinerated the parts that remained and Námo caught its spirit.  He will imprison it with its master."

The others were silent, digesting this news.  It was several minutes later that Elladan broke the silence.

"So, what is Námo like?" he asked with feigned nonchalance.  Oromë's brow rose again.  He caught an echo of Elladan's thoughts and could barely hide his surprise at the interest he found there.  It took him a moment to regain his wits, but thankfully only Elrond noticed the pause.  Of course, his eyebrow rose in query because of it.

"He is . . . well, it is hard to say and I suppose that is the truth of him."  Everyone frowned at his answer.

"What do you mean?" Elladan pressed.

"I mean that Námo is unknowable, though I suppose that is true of all the Valar, but even more so with him.  With other Valar, like Ulmo or Tulkas, it is easy to ascribe some trait to them that will help you understand their past actions and predict their likely future ones.  Námo has no such trait.  He keeps his thoughts ever to himself save when Manwë calls him to speak.  But even then, I can never understand the intent behind his words.  Truly, beside Manwë himself, there is no one who sees further and knows more of Ilúvatar's plan than he.  Thus, I say that he is beyond description because he understands that which is itself beyond description."

Oromë shrugged, knowing that the true nature of the Valar was not something elves could comprehend.  Even his husband could not truly know him, at least not until the end of the world when Ilúvatar brought his plan to fruition.  But by the same token, elves and men were not wholly understood by the Valar.

"Oh," Elladan said, obviously not knowing what to make of that answer.  "So, you can't tell us what he likes to do . . . um, on his time off?"

It took the greatest act of will Oromë possessed not to smirk at that question.  However, he didn't quite succeed in keeping his amusement from his voice. "Námo has no 'time off'," he said, and Elladan looked a little dejected by the answer.

"What kind of question is that?  Are you interested in him?" Elrohir asked, eyeing his brother speculatively.  Elladan flushed to his ear tips.  Elrohir snickered.

"So what?" the elder twin shot back.  Seeing his brother continue to chuckle, Elladan smirked, which put Elrohir on guard.  "I've only inherited father's excellent taste."

Elrond choked in surprise, ending up coughing.  Oromë soothingly rubbed his back, amused by the exchange before him, although he couldn't fathom anyone being interested in the cool Doomsman.  Having regained his breath, the half-elf tried to glare at his eldest son but the Vala could feel his husband's own mirth. 

Elrohir blinked in surprise, but then turned a wicked smile on his fiancé.  Erestor watched it warily, remembering the pranks played on him when the twins were young.

"If father has Tauron, and Elladan is mooning over Námo," he said, ignoring his brother's eye roll, "then it must indeed run in the family.  Are you a Vala in disguise, Erestor?" 

The dark advisor shivered at the purred words, but forced a frown on his face.  "Alright, I can see by your foolishness that both of you will be fine.  Now, enough of this.  You both should rest."

His tone was one they knew well.  Erestor would accept no argument.  After all that they had been through, the twins gave in gracefully.  Arwen and Glorfindel promised to return in the morning before leaving.

Elrond remained with Oromë by the door, watching Erestor settle in beside his fiancé's bedside.  Feeling content, the half-elf turned his head and gently kissed his husband's lips.  They remained locked in an embrace simply watching over the three dark-haired elves for the remainder of the night.

~~~

Elrohir looked up at the clear sky.  The sun shone brightly overhead, catching the Bruinen falls just right to cause rainbows to scatter over the raised platform where the wedding would be held.  Arwen had furthered the effect by hanging glass from the canopy.  The young half-elf couldn't help but wonder if Oromë had had something to do with the beautiful day.  It was a perfect day for a wedding.

Breathing out slowly, Elrohir fought down the rush of nervousness that threatened his system.  It had been three weeks since his capture, and if he had let himself think of it, he would have been amazed at how easily he had forgotten it.  The half-elf now understood his father; there was nothing that could not be healed when one had a lover to distract them.  Elrohir had thought of nothing but the wedding since his return.

After today his wait would be over.

He wanted it over with.  Last night he had spent with his twin when every night before Elrohir had been with Erestor.  He ached to be with him now.

"Perhaps pacing would help?" Elladan suggested, seeing the pent up energy in his twin.  His brother merely shook his head, turning his head so that his twin could finish braiding his hair.

"It's only fifteen more minutes.  I can wait."

"Barely," Elladan muttered, tying off the braid.  Elrohir heard him, but remained silent.  Time seemed to crawl.  Since his brother stood still as a statue, Elladan fidgeted for him, smoothing out his own formal robes and playing with discarded hair clasps. 

Finally the anticipated knock sounded at the door.  Elladan threw it open before the knocker could withdraw his hand.  Glorfindel smiled at the impatient gesture, though he arched an eyebrow when he saw it was Elladan and not his brother. 

"Your betrothed awaits," he said, looking at the younger twin.  Elrohir nodded.  He took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order.  He was wearing a blue robe trimmed in silver, a remnant of their first 'date'.  It was still Erestor's favorite color on him, which is why he had had it made.  Elrohir hoped to surprise him that he remembered.

Nodding in satisfaction, the younger twin followed his brother and mentor outside.  The gentle murmur of the crowd greeted his ears long before he could see them.  His nerves came back with a vengeance.  Feeling an echo of this, Elladan laid a supportive hand on his arm.  Elrohir gave him a grateful smile and increased their pace.  He wanted to be there.

Rounding the bend, he stopped.  Before him was a sea of elves and Dúnedain, but his attention was drawn to one particular elf who stood stiffly on the platform beside Lord Elrond.  Elrohir's breath caught.

~~~

Having spent the better part of his life in Elrond's council chamber, Erestor was no stranger to being the center of attention.  That didn't mean his skin wasn't crawling to have all those eyes on him.  He wished Elrohir would hurry up. 

It took a great force of his will not to indulge in his personal habit of smoothing out his robes.  Erestor had chosen to wear the colors of Elrond's house.  Back in Lindon, Elrond had often worn the blue and silver of his king, but after Gil-galad died, the half-elf could not bear to do so anymore.  Thus he had chosen something infinitely different.  Elrond and Erestor had conversed on the subject, deciding that green was out of the question because it was so fundamental to the woodland elves of Mirkwood and neither orange nor purple suited the half-elf.  So, they had chosen gold and red. 

At the moment, Elrond wore a deep burgundy robe so Erestor had decided on a very pale gold.  He knew that if he wore anything other than black, Elrohir would be thrilled.

The advisor almost tapped his foot in impatience as he waited.  Elrond noticed the gesture, but wisely did not draw attention to it.  He saw his son before Erestor did, but he knew the instant the advisor had.  All the irritation and nervousness drained out of him, and he no longer cared for all the people standing ready to witness their union. 

Elrond smiled faintly, his eyes instantly locking with his husband who stood hidden in the forest just beyond the crowd.  Oromë shared the memory of Erestor's feelings during their own wedding years ago.  The half-elf was struck by the role reversal.  Now it was he who watched two elves he dearly loved join their souls before the Valar, he who was struck by the beauty of their love.

Elrohir walked calmly through the parted crowd, his eyes never leaving Erestor.  They reached for each other at the same time, clasping hands and turning to look in each other's eyes.  The elder half-elf knew from his own experience that they were no longer with him.  He spoke the words of union more for the benefit of the crowd than for them.  It was the union of their souls that commanded their attention.  Seeing their distraction only eased Elrond's mind.  Only true soul-bonds would feel this connection.

Erestor gazed entranced by Elrohir's beauty.  The storm, the lightening he had always imagined suddenly flashed through him with a rush of familiarity that started his heart beating faster.  It was oddly comforting to him, as he had never truly experienced the feelings he had always expected from falling in love.  If he had any linger doubts within his soul, they were washed away.

Elrohir returned his gaze steadily.  When he looked into his beloved's brown eyes, he saw peace.  Every pain he had ever felt, every obstacle to come was soothed in the light of those eyes.  The slight edge that had lingered within him ever since his mother's departure disappeared in that moment, leaving him freer and lighter than he had ever been in his life.

A discreet kick broke their concentration and they realized everyone was watching them, waiting for them.  Without missing a beat, Elrond clued them in.  "And now let your union be sealed with the sign of affection the first lovers chose."

Smiling, Erestor and Elrohir turned back to each other.  The younger half-elf reached out to gently cup his husband's cheek.  The advisor leaned forward.  A burst of electricity sped through them at the first touch of their lips.  Erestor let his hand tangle in Elrohir's hair, pulling him closer. 

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