I Invent You Again

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Series: Folly of Starlight; picks up several hours after "I Would Be the One."

Synopsis: Elrond contemplates choices made and choices he would rather never be forced to make.

Pairing(s): Elrond/Legolas assumed, Elrond/Gil-galad assumed in the past

Rating: PG 13

Not mine, no harm intended, the sheep are lying through their teeth! Thanks to Emma for the beta job. Dedicated to Carolin.

Comments are always cherished.

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"I invent you again in the moment of separation,
Dark of tenderness and the longing for happiness,
With a voice quiet of affection
In the winterly air of frost.

I invent you again: created now
To walk with me, a different
Man in a high-necked coat-collar."

-- Karl Krolow, "Poem for J.S.", translated from German by Carolin Werner
 

Part 1:

A solitary silhouette stood in the stone-framed window of the silent bedroom sanctuary, statuesquely surveying nothing but the contentment of his heart, a smile his only apparel. A passion-mussed mane gently whipped in a motion-born wind as the elf lord suddenly turned back toward the soft sound of a sleepy moan. Frowning, Elrond rushed several steps closer to the sole occupant of his bed, concerned at the audible discomfort issuing thence. A sigh slipped unconsciously from between beckoning, somnolent lips, and the barest tease of a satiated smile magnified their loveliness before the dreamer settled back into the completeness of his unconscious state. The still-convalescing prince had utterly drained himself in the strenuous lovemaking of that night. A smile of cognizant relief graced the watcher's lips as he, too, remembered previous moments of precipitous pleasures, his body still thrumming in the echoes of his tremulous climax.

Smile turned to scowl, a moment of fleeting anger directed at the sleeper for exhausting himself so in his still tentative state of recovery, despite the sage reason for his exertion and the delicious manner of its execution. Elrond had nearly forgotten how masterful Legolas could be when he took the reins of sensuality. It reminded him of....

A weighty sigh of remorse-filled guilt heralded the completion of that unbidden thought. Gil-galad. Elrond could not help but be overcome with guilt at the unconscious comparison, thinking he was betraying his beloved prince in so doing. Yet, had he not long betrayed his King, his first beloved, his hervenn, as Legolas had correctly named him? Yes, Elrond had betrayed oaths sworn in the name of love itself in using the ring to heal the fair prince and stay the icy clutch of Mandos' hand. But did he not also betray Gil-galad from the first moment he took Legolas to his bed? No, perhaps not then, but he truly felt he had betrayed Gil-galad when he grew to love his precious Greenleaf in a way and a depth he had previously cared for none but his King, nor dreamt he ever would.

His self-reproach had begun long before setting eyes upon Mirkwood's greatest treasure. Had he not betrayed Gil-galad more deeply than one could forgive in a single lifetime, even as one long as the Firstborn, when he had married Celebrian? Galadriel had convinced him that it was the Valar's will, that more could would come from the union of his line with that of Lothlorien than could be measured by the scales of Fate. There had been plenty of days, aye, and more keenly felt nights, when he had regretted his decision to go along with the travesty of a marriage to the Silver Lady with every fiber of his being. Often he had questioned the truth of Galadriel's words, of what he himself had witnessed in her mirror. The scowl returned to his face as he glanced over to his dressing table mirror and remembered the trick of Anor's rays playing upon pale hair. <<What I was led to believe it was I saw.>>

But during those painful times of centuries past, his doubts momentarily disappeared, every time he saw his children's sweet faces, which mirrored the light of his forbearers. In the end, Celebrian had passed into the West, with her sincerest wishes that he find love again, that he seek and find what she could not bring to his life, no matter the virtuous intentions of her heart and fairness of her face. Elrond had believed the possibility of love beyond his grasp, that all chance for happiness had perished along with his King and soul mate on the bitterly bloodied plains of Mordor.

An impossible hope, until the golden prince of the great forest had blessed his life with the brilliant dawn of his presence. Surely this, too, be the Valar's will? The Lady had intervened on Legolas' behalf, if not his, preventing the prince from slipping into the permanent pall of Mandos' Halls. But if that be true, then it could only mean that the Silent One's grip on his hervenn remained as merciless as it had during the long years of this age. Elrond sighed sadly, wringing his hands when what he truly wished was that he could reach inside his chest and squeeze the poison of perpetual pain from his heart. Perhaps it was for the best, in some strange and ironic way, he admitted most uneasily. Could he truly say which path his heart would choose if faced with both of the great loves of his life at the very same moment?

<<Mandos was most wise to pronounce his doom,>> Elrond silently pondered. What would Finwe have done if such an offer were laid at his feet? Would he have longed for the dark fire of Miriel or the golden sparkle of Indis? No, such a choice would be like proclaiming one of the Lady's stars more lovely than the next, or one perfectly formed leaf more precious than another. <<None should have to suffer the agony of such an impossible judgment.>> The Lord of Imladris breathed a sigh of relief in knowing that whatever pains the Valar and their dooms might bring upon him, the agony of choice was one he would never be forced to bear. It would save Elrond from hurting one he held dearer than his own existence.

Yet whom did he mean by that - the fairest greenleaf of spring, or the brilliant strength of the starlight of summer nights?

Another possibility mercifully distracted Elrond from further analysis of that question. What if Celebrian truly did intend to eventually follow in Miriel's footsteps, as Galadriel had foreseen? <<Then I shall add that to the pains I have caused, and regret with all my heart.>>

Elrond had had the chance to allow Celebrian to die of her orc-inflicted wounds, to pass into the awaiting solace of Nienna's sympathetic care. She had pleaded with her husband for that very release. In the mindlessness of her agony she had nearly forsworn the existence of the flesh and would have gladly allowed Gil-galad the chance to return, if that be the Valar's will. Elrond had considered honoring her enticing entreaty, considering for the barest of moments that he had, at last, an inkling of a chance to have his beloved King returned to his arms after the passing of far too many centuries.

But Elrond had seen other pain, just as keen, reflected in the faces of his beloved children, and his hesitation lasted but a moment before he turned his healing hands in earnest to saving their mother's life. But in the end, he could not touch the lingering, unceasing agony, both of her flesh and her heart. Thus she left the unsatisfying emptiness of their bed and sailed West, where Elrond sincerely wished she would find the peace he could not find it in his heart to grant her. Before leaving she had bid Elrond to love as he would, without fear of her retribution or anger, knowing well that she had no claim upon his heart. Yet her very continued existence, though in the Blessed Lands, held captive the only one Elrond believed he 'could' ever love.

Now, Elrond had found love for a second time, just as had Finwe, yet found no peace in Finwe's doom. For he could give the golden prince his love, his flesh, and perhaps the entirety of his heart, but despite his best intentions he could never be free to bind himself, fea to fea, as his beloved so richly deserved.

<<What manner of traitor have I become that I can think such things so freely?>> Raising a hand to his temple, he was utterly shocked by the free-wheeling thoughts in his own head, feeling shamefaced that he now so obviously thought about the prince in precisely the same way he once had only thought about the High King. A horrifying thought crossed Elrond's mind - could it be he thought Legolas a replacement for what he had lost, a surrogate for Gil-galad? Was he merely trying to reinvent what he had lost, in a vain attempt to recapture the joy he had once enjoyed and feared was lost until the unmarring of the world?

Just then the moonlight shifted with the gentle sway of the trees in the enchanting interplay of wind and limb, illuminating Legolas' face in a singular manner and making his beauty ethereal and undeniable, far surpassing any Elrond had ever known. Caught in the unexpected magic of the moment he sucked in a sharp breath and drank in the full measure of his eye's unexpected feast. <<Verily the Blessed Lands themselves are but a feeble imitation of what I see before me.>> Rendered nearly breathless in his stunned surveying of the epitome of perfection, Elrond carefully sank down onto the edge of the bed and continued basking in the beauteous aura of the other's exquisiteness. It was then that he remembered something the pale prince had whispered to him before succumbing to sleep within the sanctuary of his arms, echoing an earlier earnest offer of that night. <<"You were my strength when I had none, Ithilas. I pray I might return the gift if ever you find your burdens more than you alone can bear.>> Despite the well-grounded experience of his sixty centuries, the ancient lord felt his heart flutter as the eyelashes of an innocent elf maiden, begin to tumble, and then soar upon the loftiest heights of joy, seemingly borne by the mighty wings of Thorondor himself. It was in that very moment that Elrond, son of the brightest star of the heavens, fell in love with the fairest leaf of the forest once more. No, Legolas was not a replacement, but instead the most unique of gifts, a veritable blessing from the Lady herself. Of this, and his feelings for his old golden star, Elrond finally had absolutely no doubt, nor would he ever again.

<<You repay that gift more often than you know. I can but help you will continue to do so until the end of days.>> Elrond carefully leaned over his innocently slumbering beloved and pressed a butterfly-soft, fluttering kiss upon the other's forehead. "Meleth-nin, si a an-uir, caun-nin, melethron-nin, cuil-nin," he hushedly swore. He paused purposefully, relishing the unsullied intimacy of the moment, then he buried his lips into the gilded net of hair-spun silk which had ensnared his heart. "Gond-nin, tu-nin. Estel-nin."
 

Notes:
 

"Meleth-nin, si a an-uir" = "My love, now and forever."

"Caun-nin, melethron-nin, cuil-nin" = my prince, my lover, my life. Note the parallel to the dedication in the volume Elrond gifted upon Legolas in "Though I am Young and Cannot Tell."

"Gond-nin, tu-nin. Estel-nin" = My rock, my strength. My hope
 

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