Upon the Branching Years by IgnobleBard

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A Night WIth No Dawn

Fate plays its cruel hand.

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A few days later Legolas was sparring with a knight of the Tree. By now he had improved his skill with the club such that only Erestor could still best him with the weapon. But on this day his thoughts were so taken with his time with Glorfindel the previous evening that he failed to properly counter his opponent’s blow. The spike of the heavy club grazed his arm, opening it from just below his shoulder to his elbow. The knight apologized profusely and helped him apply a tourniquet before accompanying him to the healer. It took forty-two stitches to close the wound and he berated himself for his carelessness at each stitch. The healer applied a bandage as well, telling him he could remove it the next day. As she was finishing up, Galdor came in to check on him.

“Erestor told me you had improved,” he said, obviously unhappy.

“I have, my lord. This was an accident only.”

“How did it happen?”

“The fault is mine. I lost focus for a moment and Sídoron’s club grazed my arm. The wound is not bad. It will heal quickly.”

Galdor sighed. “Well then, it seems you have your wish. Until your arm heals you will use the sling only. You are also relieved of patrol duty until further notice.”

“That isn’t necessary, my lord. I can still…”

“This is my command, Legolas!” he said sternly and Legolas fell into a morose silence. Then Galdor clapped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “There is no reason to push yourself and invite further injury, lad. Enjoy a little extra time off.”

Though displeased with this turn of events, he acquiesced graciously. “Yes, my lord. And I will be more careful, I promise.”

“Good thing your reflexes make up for your lack of sense,” Galdor said gruffly, but his lips showed the hint of a smile.

Legolas finished his training then bathed, carefully so as not to get his bandage wet, and had just finished dressing when a knock sounded on his door. It was a message from Glorfindel requesting his company that evening at the Flower. He thought some time off from patrol might be a good idea after all.

When they went to make love that night, Legolas winced when he removed his shirt. Glorfindel looked at the bandage, instantly concerned.

“What happened?”

“Just a scratch I got during a sparring match today. It’s nothing.”

Glorfindel gave him a doubtful look. “Stitches?”

“A few. The healer said I can remove the bandage tomorrow, then you can see for yourself.”

Glorfindel lifted his arm. “There’s some seepage here. I think this needs to be changed.”

“Don’t be a mother hen, it’s fine,” Legolas insisted.

Glorfindel ignored him, unwrapping the wound to see for himself. “Hmm, that’s a lot of stitches, but it doesn’t look too bad. Let me get a clean bandage.”

Legolas sighed and put the old bandage into the refuse bin. Glorfindel returned with a strip of cloth and Legolas allowed himself to be taken care of. He had to admit it felt good to be treated so tenderly, and by the lord of the manor no less. He was less happy when Glorfindel tied off the bandage expertly and said, “Well, that’s that. It’s dinner and chess tonight then.”

“What are you talking about? We can still…”

“Out of the question,” Glorfindel said, and Legolas was reminded of Galdor. What a bunch of worrywarts these Noldor were. Fine lot of warriors that fell apart over a few stitches.

Glorfindel grabbed his arm and bent it at the elbow. Legolas yelped. “See, you’re in more pain than you think. And it will be worse tomorrow. You get to tom catting around and you’ll open that arm right up again. I won’t have you laid up for a month because you didn’t have the sense to give it time to heal.”

“The Noldor seem to think the Laegrim lack sense. It smacks of bigotry,” he grumbled.

Glorfindel laughed and stroked his hair. “Not all Laegrim, silly boy, just you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Glorfindel kissed the sour look off his face. “How about a game of strip chess? I’ll make it worth your while if you lose.”

Legolas had never played so badly in his life.

Glorfindel was right, the pain was worse the next day and it was nearly a week before he was able to bend it without discomfort. When the healer removed the stitches, she warned him not to lift anything heavy for a few weeks, until the flesh had healed inside.

“It might look and feel better,” she told him, but it takes longer for the inner layers of skin to knit strongly.” She gave him a tea to drink that would accelerate the healing.

That night when he went to the Flower to meet with Glorfindel, he found him dressed in evening attire with his hair in an elaborate braid of gold. Legolas loved freeing Glorfindel’s braids from their ornate trappings, and he found many inventive uses for the ribbon that pleased them both greatly.

Tonight he looked like he was set to attend a party, making Legolas wonder if there was not some event for the lords of the houses he was not privy to.

“Are you going out this evening?” he asked, confused.

“Yes,” Glorfindel said, “and so are you.”

He led a surprised Legolas down to a secluded section of the gardens, where two of his most trusted guards greeted them. Glorfindel had set aside this place and this evening just for them, making sure they would not be disturbed. A table was laid out under a silver lamp that glowed soft as moonlight under the sprawling branches of an oak. They had a fine supper with a good wine, and afterward Glorfindel laid him down and they made love amid the music of the fountains, enveloped in the scent of moon flower and jasmine.

The next day, Legolas began a light training regimen to strengthen his arm. The evenings Glorfindel did not send for him he spent in the city with Orthul or Erestor. Without the patrols, his days began to run together in a blithe, comfortable routine that left him with little thought for what was to come.

Finally, he received word that he would be rejoining the patrol in two days time. His arm had healed well but as much as he enjoyed the city, he was anxious to get back out in the wild. He and Erestor were assigned the same company this time and he was always a welcome companion.

That night, for the first time uninvited, he made his way to the Flower with stealth and up the secret passage to Glorfindel’s rooms. He hesitated outside the hidden door for a moment, listening for any sounds of conversation within and hearing none, gave a light knock.

There was no answer. After a moment he tried once more. There was still no answer and he was just turning to leave when Glorfindel said, “Who’s there?” from the other side of the door

Legolas had to wonder how often he had visitors come this secret back way that he didn’t know that it had to be him. “Legolas,” he answered quietly.

The door flew open to reveal Glorfindel in a snow white shirt stitched in gold with his customary celandines. He looked so grand Legolas was rendered speechless.

“This is most irregular, Glorfindel said. “I didn’t send for you.”

“I… I’m sorry. I have patrol duty coming up in a couple of days and I wanted to see you. Forgive my impertinence.”

“No, come in. I didn’t expect to see you tonight but your visit is a delightful surprise,” he said, standing aside so Legolas could enter.

“I didn’t know when you might send for me again, and though it is only two weeks it seems long this time to be away.”

Glorfindel pulled him into a welcoming kiss. “I feel the same. Let me give you a night to see you through your lonesome mountain vigil.”

“That would be pleasing indeed.”

“I just need to send a quick note first. I was supposed to meet Ecthelion tonight.” He sat down at his desk and jotted off a few lines, then rang for a page.

“I apologize again for interfering with your plans. I could come back tomorrow.”

“No, he will understand. It is no great matter. We will have two weeks to catch up with each other after all.”

There was a knock on the door and Glorfindel handed the page the note. He turned and gathered Legolas into his arms and gave him a long, satisfying kiss.

“Supper first or…” Glorfindel began.

“Or, definitely or,” Legolas said with a merry laugh, reaching for the ribbon in Glorfindel’s hair.

Sometime later they lay contentedly in each other’s arms, lost in reverie, when something odd began to nag at Legolas’ mind. It took him a moment to realize the problem. The tower was completely silent. There were no sounds wafting up from the usually busy streets, no scrape of foot or cart against the stones. A chill ran up his spine.

“You said you were meeting Ecthelion tonight. What for?” he asked, trying to fight down the feeling of panic welling up in his breast.

“It’s just the festival of Tarnin Austa. I don’t usually attend, but Ecthelion and a few others were going tonight and I was pressed to join them.”

Just then a slow wave of muted voices began to drift through the window. Terrified, Legolas leapt out of bed and gazed upon the city below. The faces of the people on the streets were turned to the north with growing expressions of confusion and horror as the snow capped peaks far beyond the plain of Tumladen grew red as blood.