Chapter Text
It has only been a day since the hobbit (Frodo, you remember) and his company have arrived with Aragorn to Rivendell - and yet talk already swirls around them all. Talk and the beginnings of plans, plans you were not sure possible. Gandalf has not yet stated why the hobbit is here, but you can guess well enough by his injuries. There are only so many ways to wound someone so deeply - and you recognise the mark of a Morgul-blade.
The prospect of venturing out against such an enemy is not a decision you make lightly, and so there's even more shock when Aragorn asks to speak to you. Asks that, if you would be willing, you would consider helping the hobbit in whatever trials come next. The ranger will not tell you what the true burden you're facing is, but you trust Aragorn enough to know that he would not ask you if he did not need to.
And so you tell him that you will help if you can - even if no oaths are to be exchanged.
Except it isn't an oath that weighs heavily on you now, it is Elladan. Of what he will end up saying once he discovers what you've pledged to do. For a while you try and think of what you can say to him once you meet, but then your mind reminds you that he is away. That he could not make it back before you leave, or make a similar decision. Privately, you decide there is no use in trying to summon words for a conversation that may not happen and only seems to be hurting you.
Rivendell hums with life more than usual, not just for the arrival of more hobbits but also for the feast to be put on for the guests it is now to hold. As you try to take your mind off everything, you instead look upon your wardrobe while trying to decide what you'll look nicer in. Eventually the choice is narrowed down to just two that you go back and forth between, feeling the fabric in between your fingers.
"You look beautiful in both."
Even after years in the wilderness, Elladan's voice still manages to make you jump a little as you turn around. His ranger wear is still on, but there's a softness in his look as he remains there. But only for a second as he quickly closes the gap just as you begin to do so. Wrapping his arms around you, the two of you simply relax against each other. Eventually moving away, you step back to look at your husband. "I thought you would be away for longer."
"So did I." He shifts in the way he always does when about to deliver bad news, "I'm afraid I come with news of more evil. I wanted to see you before I tell Estel and Ada."
"Aragorn will have some of his own to share with you." There's a smile on your face, but it's small and a little bitter. Of this world not letting you simply greet your husband with peace, and only love around you. "He encountered ringwraiths."
You see his eyes widen in more shock, and then you continue. "We are all in agreement that the evil has come form again. And that we must rise up against it."
Elladan nods with you, although his eyes look more focused on his own thoughts and processing. His eyes suddenly fix on you in clarity again, "When you say 'we'... what has Estel asked of you?"
"To help him, should the time come." Reaching out your hand, you gain a little relief from how instantly he takes it and holds it tightly. "Surely you understand?"
Because he should understand, after him and Elrohir's campaigns against orcs. An apology for leaving you for so long after each time once he's returned, wrapping you in his arms and holding you so desperately you wonder how he lets go. There is a little understanding in Elladan's eyes, even if there is mainly worry, "If this is truly what you want then I will not stop you. But please, meleth, be careful in your decisions. The last thing I want is to see you hurt."
"I know." Your eyes wander over him again, the dirt that clings to his clothes and the slight tension in his body from weeks of being away. "I always say the same when you go."
The words come out more bitter than you intended them to be, but although Elladan's eyes grow darker there is less hurt in them than there is sorrow. Regret. He pulls your hand closer again, and then embraces you for the second time in your meeting. Again you stay in each other's arms - but this time it is different. The love is still there, pure and absolute, but there is also more. A deep regret that shows in him; every second of your hug being an attempt to say 'I'm sorry' in a way words cannot.
Taking care not to have you leave his arms, Elladan tilts his head slightly to bring his lips to yours. This kiss is gentle, even if there is an undertone of need to it. When he pulls away you can feel the muttering of this words as well as hear them, "I am sorry, my love. I am deeply sorry."
His mouth opens to keep talking, and this time you bring your lips to his. Letting the act speak as a way of your forgiveness, of proving that you will always love him as well regardless of the mistakes he's made. When you pull away to breathe you still keep close, close enough your lips are almost touching again.
Your words are whispers, but also promises. "I forgive you. I love you."
When at last the two of you break from the hug, the air has changed slightly. Remorse still underpins it, but the air is not as heavy and oppressive as it was once. Elladan's hand still intertwines with your own as if he's afraid of letting go, and you gently squeeze it in response. Walking together, without breaking your connection, you go back to the clothes you had been mulling over - still hastily dropped on your bed. "Will you come to the feast tonight?"
Elladan considers the question for a moment, "I will. Elrohir can speak to Estel on what we have seen, and if he has any questions he may find me."
Another kiss comes to you, this time on your forehead. Then another thought occurs to Elladan as he looks over at you again, "Although he will have to find me later."
His quip gets you to laugh, albeit a slightly flustered one, and your hand strays to the fabrics again. "Which one do I wear?"
"You look perfect in both."
"Elladan." He lights up at the playfully commanding tone you've put on, before seriously assessing the two fabrics.
"The left one, if you're truly going to make me choose." Looking down at his own outfit, a jesting smile finally appears on his face. "I suppose I should change out of these clothes as well. Earth and mud aren't part of my charm."
You take a moment to consider it, and consider him. "I'm not horribly opposed to it, however."
The mood remains light as he finally picks out an outfit and the two of you change, your words turning to discuss other matters. How many times Elrohir almost tripped on something while they were out, and the latest tales of intrigue in Rivendell. There is a topic you avoid, but the mood doesn't sour for it and you're both happy enough to not care. Going to the feast, your mood continues even as the sky begins to turn dark and then inky.
There may be evil ahead, but it does not matter at this moment. Not between the two of you.