Happy Birthday Naledi!

Unbeta'd so all my own mistakes.

Elladan realises something that others have known for while.

Takes place on the Field of Cormallen, at the same point as the last chapter of Sons of Thunder. It runs alongside that so the same scene is written from a different angle.

Chapter 3: Epiphany

It was the noise that struck Elladan the most. A loud hubbub of Men's voices, shouts of the respective commanders as the Host drew up its companies and ranks, mail and weapons glittering in the sun. Their various pennants and banners streamed and snapped, azure and sable and argent, crimson and gold. Elladan watched the Captains of the Host assemble near the dais that had been raised and upon it were three high seats built of green turves. The lords and captains talked amongst themselves excitedly, loudly, above the general hubbub of the gathering Host but Elladan found himself searching for one Man in particular.

When he saw that Imrahil was not there, he turned away in disappointment. His fingers brushed his lips lightly where Imrahil had placed a chaste kiss; a Woodelf jest at their expense. But his thoughts lingered long on that kiss, remembering the warmth of the Man's lips, his fullness and a promise too, should he have wanted it, of passion. It had not been Imrahil who had pulled away.

Knights in bright mail and tall guards in silver and black began to assemble below the green bank, and amongst them a herald with a long silver trumpet stood nervously and glanced down the long verdant sward that led down to the river.

Elladan glanced down at his brother who lounged in a chair that had been carefully placed atop the high green bank so he could see. Elladan thought Elrohir even more taciturn even than usual, nursing the great hurt he still carried cradled in his breast. He felt Elrohir's crimson, swirling energy slowing like it curled in on itself, protectively. Elrohir had stretched out his long legs and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, leaned his cheek against his hand. Elrohir was the picture of coiled power, insouciant danger, thought Elladan, unaware that he gave off the same aura of physical power sheathed in casual elegance. The gathered Men stood slightly away from them both, awed and impressed and a little afraid, for they had seen the Sons of Thunder standing ahead of all at the Gates of the Morannon, had seen Elladan ride like a fury to his brother's side and defy the Nazgul themselves and their dread steeds.

A sudden excitement rippled through the assembled Host and heads turned. Aragorn was climbing to the middle throne and seated himself carefully. He stood again to swish his cloak out of the way and settled. Above him, the three great banners of Rohan, Dol Amroth and the black banner with the white tree and seven stars flowed on the wind that came up from the West, like a blessing.

And then Elladan felt a warmth beside him and thought of the Sea with sunlight sparkling on the waves and he found himself awash with that strange emotion and longing that he had come to associate with Imrahil, for he had arrived and his heart leapt. Thoughts again of that kiss sprang into his mind and he felt a stroke of desire.

'I hope you do not mind if I stand with you and your brother? As we did at the Black Gate?' the Prince murmured and Elladan felt his heart leap at his nearness.

'If you do not mind my grumpy brother,' he smiled, noticed the flecks of gold and green in those piercing blue eyes and realised he had not noticed before.

'I can be grumpy myself,' Imrahil said and Elladan laughed softly, found himself leaning closer towards him and denying that Imrahil could ever be less than he was now. Elrohir turned slightly and looked up over his shoulder at Elladan and smiled, but his softness was for his brother and not for himself.

'Your brother will make a great King,' Imrahil was saying.

Elladan looked proudly at where Aragorn was now seated with the great sword Anduril on his knees, and knew because he had foreseen it. He had seen more besides, but now was not the time. So he turned his eyes back upon Imrahil's noble and handsome face, and said, 'Yes. He is noble and generous. I think he will reign long and there will be peace.'

He was aware his gaze had lingered too long, that he was staring into Imrahil's eyes, and just stopped himself from lifting his hand to the Man's face when Elrohir gasped and suddenly lurched forwards in his chair. Elladan's hand shot out and caught him before he fell. He pulled him back and leaned over him. Elrohir's head was bent and his long black silk hair fell around his face, hiding him from view but Elladan felt the overwhelming swirl of crimson misery and sorrow, a tide of despair.

'You should not have come,' Elladan said in concern and all other thoughts fled, but Elrohir closed his eyes and breathed slowly. His fingers clutched Elladan's sleeve. Elladan recognised the faraway look like he had just awoken from a dream, and there was such sorrow it Elladan felt suddenly afraid. Had Elrohir seen now what he, Elladan had perhaps always known? 'What did you see?' he whispered.

Elrohir raised his grey eyes to Elladan's and gestured to the pomp and ceremony, to the throne upon which their beloved Estel now sat. 'The end of...this.'

Elladan met his eyes and nodded. 'I have seen that too...And more.'

Elrohir lifted his head to meet his brother's grey, serious eyes. Elladan moved his head slightly for softness and sorrow was in his heart. 'Aye,' he said finally. And because he knew it would at last ease Elrohir, he also said, 'I have seen the last ship sail. And those who choose to stay.'

Elrohir looked stricken. 'Legolas...' he began. But Elladan lay his hand soothingly on his brother's.

'Legolas will take the last ship when Aragorn's time comes...' He faltered for he could not speak of this, not now.

He had seen the grey ship surge and plunge over the grey waves of morning, had seen the sunlight catch upon hair the colour of the winter grass, and tangle with long black-silk...

'Let us not speak of this now, brother.' He knew there was a pleading in his voice and instead he let his blue calm envelop Elrohir like a cloak, the blue calm was deep midnight, warm. It wrapped him in its tender love.

A peal of trumpet notes blasted into the air abruptly dragging him back to the present. He shook himself for this was intended to be a joyous moment, and put all his doubts out of his mind. A flurry of trumpets and horns sounded triumphantly, and the voices of thousands of Men lifted:

'Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!

Praise them with great praise, Frodo and Samwise!*'

In the long aisle that had been left through the throng, leading to the green dais, two small figures appeared, hesitant, red-faced and eyes shining with wonder. Frodo and Sam, and behind them, Gandalf whose form trembled with light. Elladan glanced down at his brother. There was a moment when he suddenly seemed illuminated from within as though some great joy had suddenly blossomed in his heart and his lips parted, ecstatic. He did not need to follow Elrohir's gaze to know that Legolas had joined the small group.

'Close your mouth, besotted fool! You are staring.' Elladan said fondly but Elrohir almost immediately pushed his chair out and struggled a little to his feet. Elladan looked up in surprise and caught this arm.

'Be still, Elrohir. You are not strong enough yet.'

Elrohir paused unsteadily and then he looked into Elladan's eyes and said softly and with the deep affection between them. 'Leave me be, Elladan. You have no idea what I can still do.' He paused unsteadily and gripped the back of the chair for a moment and when Elladan moved towards him, he stopped him, raised his eyes and smiled. 'You have your own heart to care for, and I have mine.' He closed his hand over Elladan's, and slanted his eyes towards Imrahil. He pulled himself upright, though Elladan knew it must hurt, and he took a step towards him again but this time another put

'Let him go, Elladan,' Imrahil murmured and he put his own hand on Elladan's sleeve for a moment. 'He is strong enough and needs to follow his heart.' He paused for a moment, eyes still fixed upon Elladan until he looked up and then Imrahil smiled enigmatically for a moment and then back away, a smile still on his lips. 'As do you.'

Elladan stared and Imrahil, with a slight bow, melted into the crowds of nobles and lords and Elladan was left staring and wondering, unaware that his fingers closed over his sleeve where Imrahil had held him.

00o0o0

It was not until Imrahil left the feast for the Fellowship that Elladan truly realised what had happened.

They had conversed with their usual spark and enjoyment in each other's company. It was true that Elladan found himself almost oblivious to all others when Imrahil was there and he barely noticed when Elrohir almost fell into the chair beside him. He had turned curiously to him but when he saw how calm Elrohir was, and sated, he smiled and glanced across to Legolas. The Woodelf was teasing the Dwarf and the Hobbits near them were laughing delightedly. When Pippin had leaned across a plucked a twig from Legolas' hair, the Woodelf had looked across at Elrohir with such love it almost hurt Elladan to see, and he felt his brother's deep adoration flow between them like a river. It was only then he realised something. But when he turned back to Imrahil, one of his knights was leaning over and speaking to him urgently and Imrahil's blue eyes were troubled.

Imrahil turned to Elladan then and said briefly, 'I must go. I have business to attend in Dol Amroth. I am sorry.' He rose to his feet and with barely a glance back at Elladan, he strode towards Aragorn and spoke to him in a low urgent voice. Aragorn looked up and clasped Imrahil's arm before the Man left, his knights following.

He stared as Imrahil passed behind Gimli and out into the sunlight.

It hit Elladan then, physically, like a blow; he realised something that he had known but not acknowledged. He could not live without this Man. He could not bear the thought he might never see him again. And he had missed his chance for there had been a promise in that chaste kiss forced upon them by a mischievous Woodelf, and it was not Imrahil who had pulled away.

Elrohir turned to him, frowning. He looked at Elladan for a moment and then his still pale face softened. 'Go after him,' he said and smiled, and his eyes drifted helplessly back to Legolas. 'Do not lose whatever happiness you chance upon.'

Elladan watched for a moment as his steel-bright brother, so full of wrath and fury, gazed at Legolas. Elrohir was still weak after the Battle of the Morannon, with his struggle against the Nazgûl, and with his taking the Black Thread from Legolas so that he might live. His face was pale and weary but filled with an inner light that Elladan had never seen in him before and he was filled with tenderness. He squeezed his shoulder as he rose to his feet, and then he pushed past the generals and captains of the West, patted Aragorn on the shoulder as he passed, ignored the gloating looks and winks of the Hobbits as he thrust aside the tent flap and emerged into the sunlight.

Ahead of him he could hear the voices of Men and whinny of horses. The flash of armour and spears in the bright sunlight and a long pennant streamed in the wind from the West, a white swan on a field of azure. Dol Amroth.

'My lord!' he called and strode quickly towards the white horses that shook their heads and stamped and pawed the ground, waiting to be off.

Imrahil was already mounted and turned his head to look towards Elladan and his lips parted. He turned his horse and looked down at Elladan, who stood and held his stirrup, his hand brushed the Man's boot.

'I would come with you if you'll have me, my lord...' he thought he sounded weak, a child pleading but he did not know how the heart of the Prince thumped suddenly in his chest and how a heavy day suddenly turned to the light.

Imrahil leaned down and clasped Elladan's hand. His piercing blue eyes were like the sky after rain, thought a love-struck Elladan.

'You will need your horse,' Imrahil said, a little drily.

Elladan realised he had been holding onto Imrahil's hand for rather longer than protocol expected. He let go and stepped back, laughed a little and thought he sounded nervous.

0o0

Baraghûr was pleased, he thought, to be making this trip. He was restless and bored so he pranced about at first, showily, shaking his long mane and lifting his tail so it streamed in the wind. But Elladan thought Baraghûr had merely felt his own mood of excited elation.

Imrahil declared that every man should sleep under cover for the battle had been long and arduous and if it meant his lords and nobles sharing a tent, so be it. He himself set a good example by sharing with Elladan, which, it must be said, neither of them found a hardship.

They rode like the wind, swiftly making for home, for the Sea and as they drew closer, Elladan could hear it in his dreams, felt it stir softly in his blood. At night, they sat under the stars by the fire and listened to the Men talking. And then Imrahil took out his chess set and they played. And each time he lost, Elladan paid his forfeit with a quiet delight.

It was one of the most precious times in his long life, a treasure he would hoard secretly in his heart for the rest of his days.

0o0o

tbc

I thought this was finished but it's not. There are some more chapters to come at some point, and it seems to be linking up with Nármöfinion, which also had several chapters posted around the place and not all together. It's going to run into the sequel of Sons of Thunder though and I'm focused on MDLW at the moment. Reviews are always encouraging though:)