Title: Good Relations
Authors: Khylaren and Larien Elengasse
Contact: Khylaren@yahoo.com and larienelengasse@yahoo.com
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: [NC17]
Beta: Alex
Disclaimer: We do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. We are not making money off this story; it was written for the pure pleasure of it.
Warnings: Slight angst, graphic homoerotic (slash) content, and incest.
Cast: Haldir/Glorfindel, Elladan/Elrohir, Legolas/Elrohir, Thranduil/Elladan, Erestor/Galathil, Thranduil/Legolas
Summary: The sequel to “Peace Offerings”. Glorfindel and Haldir escort the twins to Mirkwood at Galadriel’s request in the hopes of forming a political union. Thanks to Orchyd Constyne for the Sindarin translations.

Chapter 1

Haldir’s breath left him in a startled gust of air as he impacted the mattress, Glorfindel’s weight pinning him against it as his lover attacked his neck with a passion that surprised him with its intensity.

“Glorfindel, what is the urgency?” he gasped, his hands pushing ineffectually against the Vanya’s chest, even as he tilted his head to give him better access to the more sensitive areas.

“We will not be able to indulge ourselves in this fashion for several days,” Glorfindel growled against his skin, biting the tender flesh gently. “I intend to make the most of it.”  His lips found Haldir’s ear, sliding up the curve before enclosing the pointed tip and sucking on it, causing his lover to squirm beneath him.

“Ai, melethron!” Haldir tried to move his head out of his lover’s reach. “That tickles!”

“What if I do it this way?” Glorfindel purred, sliding his hand over the rise of Haldir’s leggings and rubbing the prominent bulge he found there, as his lips continued to torment his lover’s ear.

Haldir groaned softly, his hips rising off the bed to meet Glorfindel’s caress.

Glorfindel chuckled softly. “I will take that as a ‘no’. You like that?”  

“Sweet Elbereth, Glorfindel,” Haldir muttered, his eyes closing in bliss as his lover’s hand slid beneath his leggings and grasped his length. “Ai! Do not torture me. I wish to touch you as well.”

“All in good time, my dear marchwarden,” Glorfindel replied smugly. “You have no patience. I intend to make this last.”

Haldir’s eyes fluttered open. “I will not last if you continue to touch me that way,” he gasped.

Glorfindel lifted his head, smiling down at his lover’s flushed face. “True,” he said. “I suppose I should at least let you take your boots off.”  He lowered his head, capturing Haldir’s lower lip between his teeth as his hand continued to work his length in slow, steady strokes. He sucked the soft flesh between his lips for a moment, before releasing it. “Though I find you look irresistibly naughty, dressed as you are for duty, with my hand down your leggings.”

Haldir groaned, torn between laughter and arousal. His amusement left him quickly, however, when Glorfindel’s mouth found his ear once more. He cried out, his body stiffening with pleasure as his release came, and he shuddered with the sweet intensity of it.  

Glorfindel gathered Haldir in his arms and placed a tender kiss against his hair, feeling his trembling gradually subside.  He stroked his back gently, content for the moment to simply hold him. His lover’s soft chuckle made him smile.

“What makes you laugh, meleth nín?” he asked.

Haldir shook his head, pulling back slightly so he could look at Glorfindel. “You are wicked,” he said, still chuckling. He looked down at his soiled leggings ruefully, before glancing up once more. “I will never be able to don the uniform of the Galadhrim without thinking of this.”

Glorfindel laughed, rising off the bed and pulling Haldir with him. “Then I have given you a good memory, hûn nín. One that will keep you warm on the cold watches.”  His lips curved in a pleased smirk as he reached up and unfastened the cloak at Haldir’s neck. “Though I had hoped to do other things,” he said, lifting a golden eyebrow playfully.

Haldir pushed his hands away with a mock glower, and began to unfasten the ties that held his tunic. “Oh? What other things did you think of?”

The Vanya crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he watched Haldir undress with open appreciation. “Oh, perhaps visiting you on a lonely watch, taking that lovely length of flesh between my lips and watching you struggle not to make a sound as I bring you to your peak.”

Glorfindel’s playful words elicited a stunning visual that made him gasp.  “You are truly wicked, meleth nín,” Haldir managed, dropping his soiled clothing in the laundry for washing later. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he approached his lover. “And you have entirely too many articles of clothing on,” he growled.

“Truly?” Glorfindel glanced from Haldir’s nude form to his own clothed one. “Which articles should I remove?” he asked with a low chuckle.
 
A slow and predatory smile curled Haldir’s lips. “All of them.”  He stepped closer, his hands sliding over Glorfindel’s chest. “I want you naked. Now.”

“So demanding,” Glorfindel murmured, his body responding to the heat in Haldir’s eyes.  “You did not even say ‘please’.”

Haldir leaned forward until his lips were inches from Glorfindel’s. “Please.”

Glorfindel groaned, the soft caress of breath against his mouth making his hands tremble as he began to pull his clothing from his body. It did not help matters that Haldir did not move away, but continued to breathe teasingly against his skin as he undressed.

His leggings had barely hit the floor before Haldir pulled him into his arms and kissed him thoroughly. The feel of his skin against his own was enough to make Glorfindel groan once more. 

“I want you inside me, melethron,” Haldir growled, his hands finding the length of flesh that jutted from Glorfindel’s hips and stroking it firmly. “I want to feel you.”

His head fell back as he gave himself to Haldir’s caress, his lover’s words inflaming him. He moaned, lifting his head to claim his mouth, punishing its softness with a bruising kiss. Hands left his arousal to slide up his chest, and Glorfindel pressed their bodies together, plundering the sweet warmth of Haldir’s mouth. He felt the brush of his lover’s arousal against his own as he ground their hips together, eliciting a low groan from them both. 

Haldir broke away from the kiss and pulled Glorfindel towards the bed. They fell upon it in a tangle of flushed limbs, their mouths and hands seeking contact with heated flesh as each vied for dominance over the other in the form of pleasure. It was Haldir who finally yielded; willingly rolling beneath Glorfindel as his lover took his length in his mouth.

“Saes, melethron,” Haldir groaned his head thrown back against the pillow as Glorfindel took him deeper into the warmth of his mouth, his hands fisting the coverlet tightly. “Aníron lle!”

Glorfindel struggled briefly with the desire to torture his lover more, but his own need was becoming difficult to ignore. Reluctantly, he let Haldir’s length slip from his lips, smiling in satisfaction at the shudder that racked the marchwarden’s lithe frame.  Reaching for the small vial of oil that waited on the bedside table, he quickly opened it and coated his fingers with the slick substance.

Haldir’s hands covered his as he worked the oil onto his arousal, and he gasped softly at the sensation of both their hands working his flesh. It was nearly enough to undo him. He pushed Haldir’s hands away and pulled him upright onto his knees so that he was facing him. He poured a bit more oil onto his fingers and tossed the vial aside. 

“Ai, yesssss….” The word was drawn out in a hiss of pleasure as Glorfindel’s oiled fingers found Haldir’s entrance and slid into his body. The tight heat gradually relaxed around his fingers as he spread the oil deeply, preparing the way. Haldir made a small sound of disappointment when his fingers left his body, eliciting a soft chuckle from Glorfindel.

“You have no patience, meleth nín,” he whispered, pulling him closer so that his lover straddled his thighs. The tip of his arousal teased Haldir’s opening as Glorfindel pressed his lips to his ear. “One day I will show you how rewarding patience can truly be.” With a slowness that was exquisitely agonizing, he pushed against the tightness, and felt it give way. Blessedly wonderful heat enveloped his length, constricting around him like a welcome glove.

“Glorfindel...” His name fell like a prayer from Haldir’s lips as he sheathed himself in his lover’s body.

“Haldir, hûn nín,” Glorfindel whispered, his hands tightening their hold on his lover’s hips as he settled him firmly against him. “You feel so good, so right for me.”  One hand moved from its position on Haldir’s hip to slide behind his lower back. The other rose to cradle Haldir’s head as he began to move his hips, his thrusts slow and controlled.

It did not take long for the pleasure to build inexorably towards his peak. Releasing his hold on Haldir’s head, he grasped his lover’s length, stroking it in time with his thrusts, until their cries of passion echoed each other’s. Haldir stiffened, tightening around him, a low cry falling from his lips as he came, the warmth of his seed spilling over them both. With a growl, Glorfindel thrust one last time, burying himself deeply into his lover’s body as his release finally claimed him.

Haldir rested his head against Glorfindel’s heaving chest, his own breath sounding harsh and gasping to his ears. He could hear the Vanya’s heart beating rapidly beneath his ear, and felt his own heart beat in a similar fashion.

“The things you do to me, seron vell,” he said, when he could finally speak. He lifted his head, meeting Glorfindel’s pleased and loving gaze. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Glorfindel chuckled, placing a swift kiss against his mouth. “Good.” 

Haldir moved away, wincing slightly as Glorfindel’s length slid out of his body, and reached for a cloth to clean the evidence of his passion from his stomach. When he finished, he handed the cloth to his lover wordlessly, and collapsed on the bed with a contented sigh.

Glorfindel tossed the soiled cloth beside Haldir’s uniform and curled up beside the marchwarden, smiling as his lover immediately rolled into his arms and laid his head against his chest.  His fingers idly played with the silvery-gold strands of hair that tickled his skin.

“What are we going to do?” Haldir mused softly, listening to the steady beat of Glorfindel’s heart. 

“What do you mean?”

Haldir raised himself up on his elbow so he could look at Glorfindel’s face. “I mean, about us.” He gestured vaguely at the room and the hastily discarded clothing scattered on the floor of his talan. “Sooner or later, meleth nín, you will have to return to Imladris.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Aye, that is true. I thought you would come with me, as we had discussed.”

Haldir frowned slightly. “For a visit, certainly. But I cannot stay,” he said softly, looking away.

It was Glorfindel’s turn to frown. He lifted his hand and touched Haldir’s chin, turning him to face him.  “Why not?” he asked quietly, his expression troubled by the sadness he saw on his lover’s face.

“My home is here, meleth,” Haldir replied simply. “My duty is here. I cannot imagine a life anywhere else.” He closed his eyes. “I feel the call of Lórien like many feel the call of the sea.” He opened his eyes, meeting Glorfindel’s gaze. “It is in my blood.  I would fade away without it.”

Glorfindel sighed, his hand dropping to his chest. “And I cannot leave my Lord Elrond’s side. My duty is with him. Were it not for that, I would not care where I lived, so long as you were with me.”

Haldir blinked and looked away, his jaw tightening perceptively. “It seems then, meleth nín, that we are at an impasse.”

He flinched at the unspoken pain in Haldir’s voice. “I will not accept that,” he said finally. “We have this time together. Let us use it.”  When Haldir looked back at him, he gave him a faint smile. “I have faith, a’maelamin. So should you.”

< > < > < >

Elrohir sat on the bed and watched his twin pack their belongings with narrowed eyes; a feeling of helpless frustration slowly filling him with each article that was placed in their luggage.  Hugging his knees tighter against his chest, he sent a tendril of thought towards Elladan, trying to sense his mood.  He caught flashes of thoughts, an incomplete and broken commentary that let him know that his brother was every bit as upset as he was.

~Cannot believe…sending us there…what will I do…how can I protect him/us?~

“Elladan.”

Elladan stopped in mid-stride, his brother’s voice startling him out of his mental rant.

“Come here,” Elrohir said quietly, rising from the bed.  He watched his brother toss the tunic on top of the luggage and did not wait for him to cross the room to where he stood. Instead, he met him halfway, wrapping his arms tightly around Elladan’s lean frame, feeling his twin do the same.  For a moment, neither of them spoke, each finding their peace in the other’s arms.

“Melon lle, gwannig nín,” Elladan whispered, burying his face in Elrohir’s neck.

“I know,” Elrohir sighed softly. “I love you too.” He felt Elladan’s arms tremble, and pulled back slightly so he could see his twin’s face. “You are the strong one, muindor, remember? Do not let this worry you so.”  His lips quirked briefly in a half-smile as he regarded his brother. “That is my job.” 

Elladan’s eyes widened a moment, before he gave a soft chuckle, holding his brother close once more. “You are right, Elrohir. I do not know why this bothers me as much as it does. I desire no other, and I know your heart is mine. Whatever Grandmother’s plans are, nothing will change that.”

“Nothing,” Elrohir agreed softly, leaning into his twin’s loving embrace. 

They stayed that way a long moment, the familiar touch comforting, before Elladan attempted to pull away, his brother’s strong arms preventing him.

“I must finish my packing,” Elladan said, his breath catching as he looked into Elrohir’s eyes.

Slowly, Elrohir shook his head, his hands sliding with possessiveness over Elladan’s bare shoulders, drawing his twin close. “Packing can wait.”  His tongue flicked out, tasting the softness of his brother’s lips, and he heard Elladan’s quiet gasp.

“Perhaps it can,” Elladan whispered, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he regarded his twin thoughtfully. Stepping away from his brother’s embrace, he slid the bolt through the lock of their door, effectively barring any possible interruptions. He turned, his unbound hair sliding across his shoulders as he gave Elrohir a slow and heated perusal. 

A shiver went through Elrohir at the predatory heat in his twin's eyes, his arousal hardening swiftly in response. He licked his lips, waiting to see what his brother would do.

“Take your clothes off, muindor,” Elladan ordered softly, folding his arms across his bare chest. He leaned against the wall, his eyes following Elrohir’s movements with unconcealed hunger.

Warm air caressed his bare skin as he shed his tunic, shrugging it from his shoulders and casting it to the floor. His long hair swept forward, obscuring his vision briefly as he bent his head to unfasten his leggings. He tossed it over his shoulder and out of his way, before kicking his leggings free to join his tunic on the floor. 

Elladan crossed the room, closing the distance between them swiftly, and pulled Elrohir into his arms. Lips, both soft and demanding, claimed his in a bruising kiss as Elrohir's hands roamed possessively over his skin. He found himself being pushed backwards, towards the bed, and he collapsed against the soft mattress, pulling his brother down with him. 

Elladan sank into the soft bedding, softly whispering words of love and promises of undying devotion in Elrohir's ear.  "No one will ever separate us, Elrohir, ever," he whispered.

"Ever," Elrohir answered.

Elladan rolled over his brother, sinking into him, molding his body to that of his twin's.  He moaned softly as he felt Elrohir's strong legs wrap around him and he sank further into his grasp.  He caressed his lover's ear with his lips, feeling each tremor, each reverberation of passion course through his brother's veins as surely as it ran through his own.  "Amin…" he whispered.

"Lle…" Came Elrohir's breathless reply.

He felt Elrohir's fingers digging into his back as his twin lifted up to meet him, Elrohir's already rigid arousal pressing into the soft suede of his leggings.  They slowly undulated against one another, a slow dance of heated passion, deliberately building until they were both nearing the breaking point.

"Aiya! Saes, Elladan…" Elrohir gasped, his strong back arching beneath his brother's touch.

Elladan's lips curved into a smile against his twin's ear and he whispered, "What is it you seek, muindor?"  His hands traveled down Elrohir's sides, over his hips and the curve of his thigh, pulling his legs higher up his waist.

"You know what I seek, melethron nín.  I seek rapture with you," Elrohir breathed.  "Saes, meleth nín, let me feel your flesh against my own, let me feel your heated length against mine."

"There is nothing I could deny you, Elrohir," Elladan answered.  He slid from his brother's grasp, quickly and gracefully stepping out of his leggings before crawling back to his twin.

Elrohir enfolded his brother with his strong arms and legs, moaning quietly as Elladan's silken length slid against his own.  He grasped his brother's face in his hands and gazed into his dark eyes, his thumbs tracing his ripe lips.  "I crave you, gwannig nín, every moment of every day," he whispered.  "I always want you by my side."

Elladan smiled and pressed a kiss to his twin's thumbs before whispering, "I will never leave you, Elrohir.  How could I?  We are bonded, I cannot live without you; I cannot live as half myself."

Elrohir moaned as Elladan plundered his mouth and he tangled his fingers in his hair.  He thrust against him as Elladan's hand covered both their arousals, stroking them together.  He whimpered into the punishing kiss as he felt his release building and he locked his legs around Elladan, holding him tighter.  As it was so often, his climax was denied voice as he spilled his release between them.  None could know of what they did.

Elladan bit down on Elrohir's lower lip as he came, sucking it into his mouth, feeling a tear fall from his eye onto his brother's face.  He collapsed upon Elrohir, feeling his comforting arms encircle him, his strong hands caress his back.  He buried his face in his twin's hair and whispered, "Melon lle, Elrohir."

Elrohir smiled and whispered in return, "Melon lle, Elladan, always."

They lay quietly together for a few moments before rising.  Elrohir knelt before his brother on the floor, lovingly cleaning his abdomen with a warm wet cloth.  He closed his eyes and pressed his lips into Elladan's stomach and smiled when he felt his brother's hands caress his hair.

Elladan drew Elrohir to his feet, returning the favor and retrieving Elrohir's robe from the chair by the bed.  He held it out for him, and slid it over his head before pressing a soft kiss to his brother's lips.  "We haven't much time, muindor.  We will be departing at dawn, we still must finish packing and we both need some rest."

Elrohir nodded as he watched Elladan don his robe and rinse out the cloth they used earlier.  He crossed the room to finish his own packing, glancing over his shoulder at his elder brother.  

After they finished their preparations, they climbed into Elladan's bed, but not before messing up Elrohir's, just in case they had an unexpected visitor.  Elrohir curled against his twin, as he had done so many times in their life and listened to Elladan's soft breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart.  Elladan drifted into reverie quickly, but Elrohir stayed awake, his thoughts wandering toward Mirkwood.  

He and Elladan had often heard tales of Thranduil's beauty and irresistible charm, and now it seemed that they were to be introduced to his offspring.  He wondered if they would be as beautiful as the Mirkwood King, or as irresistible.  He bit his lower lip as he imagined one of them kissing his brother, drawing moans and sighs from him, and he found for the first time in his life, he was jealous.  He imagined Elladan, bewitching them, seducing them, as he had seduced him, as he had seduced so many after, and he found he understood Orophin's feelings far better than he imagined he would.  He was not sure he wanted to share his brother any longer, but knew they must if they were to keep up appearances.  He pulled Elladan closer and heard him moan softly in his sleep.  He took a deep breath and tried to find rest, it would be a long few days travel to the realm of Thranduil.

< > < > < >

"But, Ada, I am not ready to bond with anyone.  I do not even know who these Peredhil are.  What if I do not like them, what if they are too… human?"

Thranduil smiled despite his best efforts to be serious and bit back a chuckle.  "Greenleaf, I am only asking that you meet them, if you do not like them then I will send them away."

Legolas shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he twirled the end of his belt around one long finger. "It is not fair that Galathil was able to sneak off on patrol, while I am stuck here to meet both of them alone."

Thranduil pushed his chair back from the large wooden desk and patted his knee.  Legolas crossed the room and sat on his father's lap, resting his head on the King's shoulder.  "Iôn, I would never ask you to do anything that you did not want to do.  As for your brother, I will deal with him when he returns, and sooner or later, he will have to, no matter how crafty he thinks he is.  You have always been a good and obedient son, Greenleaf; you have always made me proud of you.  I know I can count on you to be fair and courteous to our guests.  Relations between our realm and that of Lord Elrond's are tenuous at best, we can ill afford to make things worse."

Legolas nodded.  "I know, Ada.  I promise, I will be courteous and do my duty as your son."

Thranduil smiled and grasped Legolas' chin, turning his gaze up to meet his own.  "You are a loyal and faithful son, Legolas.  I am ever grateful for you."

Legolas smiled and glanced quickly toward the door, his sharp hunter's hearing detecting no one close by.  He looked back at his beloved father and whispered, "And a loving one?"

Thranduil smiled gently and whispered in reply, "Aye, Greenleaf, a very loving one."  He closed his eyes as his son's soft lips descended upon his own for a gentle kiss.

"When, Ada?  When can I prove my love to you?" Legolas whispered against his father's lips.

Thranduil swallowed and closed his eyes.  "When you are older, when you have known the love of another first, Legolas.  You must be strong in yourself before we can share that, you must be sure of who you are."

Legolas long fingers crept up the sides of his father's face, his lips still hovering against Thranduil's.  "I am sure of who I am, I am your son, and I love you."

Thranduil's hands caressed his son's back, sliding against the soft silk of his tunic.  Denying Legolas what he so badly wanted was difficult, but he knew he must, even if just for awhile longer.  "You know of what I speak, Legolas," he replied.  "It is for the best.  Be patient, Greenleaf.  I will always be here, I will always love you."

Legolas pressed his lips against those of his father once more, the temptation to taste Thranduil's lips with his tongue almost more than he could bear.  But, he was obedient and pulled back, whispering breathlessly, "Yes, Ada."  He rose from his father's lap with fluid grace and slowly walked out of the room, casting one long amorous glance over his shoulder before continuing down the hall.

Thranduil took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he could still smell Legolas on him, still taste his sweet lips upon his own.  "By Elbereth…" he whispered, shaking his head as if to clear a fog that hung around him.  

The ritual they spoke of was rarely practiced in their time and was frowned upon by many of their kind.  It was considered barbaric, uncivilized, and few would be able to look the other way if they knew.  His elder son had never expressed this interest, so Thranduil had not broached the subject with him.  Legolas, however, had shown his interest just before he reached his majority.  The long glances, embraces that lasted longer than they should, soft touches of the hand, lingering kisses on the cheek, that was how it started.  Soon, Thranduil found his son in his bed, watching him sleep. Legolas would often creep in and lay next to him, and he would wake and gaze into his son's liquid sapphire eyes.  Legolas had avoided relations with others, sweetly and respectfully rejecting the advances of males and females alike, preferring to spend his time and affection upon his father.  While both his sons were beautiful, Legolas was extraordinarily so, and this made him very difficult to resist.  Thranduil knew that once Legolas grew into full elfhood, he would be a master at seduction, and impossible to deny.  He possessed a rare beauty: pure and sensual, both sweetly innocent and deadly carnal.  In the meantime, he would assure that his son's first experience was one beyond compare.

He rose from his chair and stretched, departing his office for his quarters to change, he needed some distraction from the state his son nearly put him in, and he decided to head for the training grounds.
< >  < >  < >

A soft knock upon their door woke Elladan and Elrohir from their reverie.  Elladan softly answered, "Who is there?"

"It is Orophin and Rúmil," their friends answered.

Elladan rose from the bed and unlatched the door, allowing their friends to enter.  Elrohir sat up, sleepily rubbing his eyes and pushed the hair back from his face.  He stretched and yawned as he greeted their friends.  "Mae govannen, friends."

Elladan smiled and bowed his head, adding his greeting.  "Mae govannen, Orophin, Rúmil."

Orophin and Rúmil returned the greeting, each moving to embrace the twins.  Elrohir pulled Orophin onto the bed, playfully hugging him and showering his face with kisses.  Elladan picked up Rúmil and carried him to the bed as well, where he deposited him next to his brother.  He stretched out beside them, his robe falling open to expose one amber nipple.  Rúmil could not stop himself from looking, even though he and Orophin were committed to one another, he still found Elladan to be strikingly beautiful.  

Elladan smiled seductively as he fondled one of Rúmil's braids, quietly chuckling to himself as he watched the young Silvan tremble slightly.  "What brings the two of you here to our bed this early morning, hmm?" he asked seductively.

Orophin pulled Rúmil back into his arms as Elladan slid alongside Elrohir.  "We wanted to see you off privately," he answered quietly.  "Rúmil and I are part of the escort that will accompany you as far as the Anduin.  From there, you will travel with Haldir and Glorfindel, and one other member of your party that just arrived two days ago, I did not catch his name."

Elrohir playfully attacked Orophin's neck as his fingers snaked their way inside his tunic, fondling his nipple until it was a hard pebble.  "Privately, eh?  Well, lucky us…" he murmured against the archer's neck.

Orophin found that somehow Elladan had extricated Rúmil from his grasp and was performing wicked deeds upon his younger brother's ear with his lips.  He watched helplessly for a moment as Rúmil fought not to succumb to Elladan's skillful touch and he struggled to resist Elrohir's.  "Wait!" he barked as he broke free of Elrohir, once again rescuing his younger brother from Elladan's grasp.  "That is not what I meant!  I only meant to say…"

Elladan laughed softly as he gathered Elrohir into his arms.  "We know, Orophin.  We were merely teasing.  We have not forgotten the talk we had on the way home from hunting.  We would not break your trust."

Orophin blushed slightly as he buried his face in Rúmil's hair.  "I am sorry…" he murmured, "I guess I still feel a bit insecure where Rúmil is concerned."

"No apology necessary, mellonamin," Elrohir answered.  "'Tis natural you would feel that way, seeing as your love is still so young."  **So why do I feel that way?** he asked himself.

Rúmil whispered into Orophin's ear, "You are jealous?  Truly?  That is so sweet."

Orophin frowned and grumbled a nonsensical response before turning his attention back to Elrohir.  "Thank you for being so understanding."  He straightened his tunic and pulled his younger brother back against his chest.  "Haldir and Glorfindel are preparing the horses, your parents are already at breakfast with the Lord and Lady.  You should rise and dress before they come looking for you."

Elladan nodded, the mirth fading from his eyes.  Elrohir smiled and caressed his brother's face and placed a soft kiss upon his cheek.  "Yes, I suppose you are right, Orophin," Elladan answered.  "We loathe to leave the Golden Wood; we have come to feel at home here."

Elrohir turned and smiled at the brothers.  "Yes, and we have grown quite fond of the both of you.  We will miss you while we are away."

Rúmil smiled sweetly and answered, "We will miss you as well.  Orophin and I have grown to think of you as brothers as well as friends.  You will always have our trust and loyalty.  Should you ever need us, we will answer your call."

The twins smiled and embraced Orophin and Rúmil, each placing a soft kiss upon their foreheads.  The four friends rose from the bed, and the twins dressed as Orophin and Rúmil carried their belongings outside.

< > <  > < >

Chapter 2

The mystery guest that accompanied them to Mirkwood was their tutor and father's chief counselor, Erestor.  It seemed Elrond had more business with Thranduil than just a political union.  The trip was long and uneventful, and by the time they crossed the Anduin and arrived at the outskirts of the great forest, they were tired and ready for a bath.  They sat upon their horses, ever vigilant, as they waited for the welcoming party and escort from Thranduil's court.  Elrohir side passed his mare so that he bumped into his twin's gelding, causing their legs to touch.  Elladan smiled at his brother and stole a quick squeeze to his thigh before Elrohir scooted away again.

It had been near excruciating sleeping next to one another without touching, without kissing, without holding one another.  Haldir and Glorfindel had slept in one another's arms each night, but the lack of intimacy was taking its toll on them as well.  Erestor was, well, Erestor, as cranky and annoyed as always.  Elladan and Elrohir chuckled to one another about how often they would see the Counselor roll his eyes or express his discontent about one thing or the other.  They both concluded that the Noldo was in dire need of a proper tumble and hoped he would find one in Thranduil's court. 

A bright whistle broke the silence and they looked to the tree line and saw an escort consisting of six elves ride to the edge of the clearing.  Elladan whacked his twin on the leg when the group approached, the lead rider having caught his attention.

"By Elbereth, look at him…" the elder twin whispered and Elrohir felt his stomach do a slow roll as he watched his brother look the rider over with hungry eyes.

As the escort came to a halt, the lead rider bowed his head and placed his hand over his heart as he greeted them.  "Mae govannen.  I am Legolas Thranduillion, and we are here to escort you to my father's court."

Glorfindel bowed his head and covered his heart as well.  "Mae Govannen, my Lord.  I am Glorfindel, and these are my companions, Erestor, Chief Counselor to Lord Elrond, and Haldir of Lórien.  And these are the twin sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir."

Legolas regarded the twins with a thinly veiled mask of surprise.  His youth had prohibited him from traveling outside the borders of his dangerous realm.  Other than his Silvan subjects, he had never met an elf that was of different kindred than he, and he had never seen twins.  Erestor was unusual enough, though he was familiar with the appearance of most Noldor.  But the twins, they were exotic.  He marked their rich sable hair and pale gray eyes, their fair golden skin and ripe lips.  It was all he could do to keep from staring at them.

He cleared his throat and, in as authoritative a tone as he could muster, answered, "Welcome to Mirkwood.  If you will follow us; stay close, our forest is a dangerous place these days."  He turned his horse and slowly cantered into the wood.  His soldiers flanked the travelers and brought up the rear.

They rode in silence for some way; it was dangerous to draw too much attention.  Once they crossed the border and were in safe territory, the twins trotted up to Legolas and Elladan softly addressed him.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have, Legolas?" the elder twin asked.

Legolas smiled and picked a leaf from his gelding's mane.  "I have only one brother, an elder brother, Galathil.  But I fear you will not meet him unless he is found before your departure.  Father sent out riders for him at first light, but when Galathil does not want to be found, he rarely is."

Elrohir chuckled.  "Sounds like pranks Elladan and I used to play when we wanted to shirk our duties welcoming visitors."  He patted Legolas' leg briefly.  "No worries, mellon, you are company enough."

Elladan smiled when he noted the blush upon Legolas' cheek and he leaned over, placing his hand upon the Prince's thigh for balance.  "You are certainly fair company, mellonamin, and most courteous."

Legolas' breath caught in his throat as Elladan's hand pressed into his thigh and he tried to cover it.  He nodded and replied softly, "Hannon lle, meldiramin.  Both you and your brother are passing fair to my eyes as well, and you are quite kind.  I have the feeling we will get on very well."

They rode the rest of the distance at a walk, and the twins and Legolas chatted amiably.  Glorfindel heaved a sigh of relief when he saw how well the twins seemed to be getting on with Legolas.  

Haldir leaned over and whispered in his lover's ear, "Well, this might not be as difficult a task as you first thought, meleth.  The twins seem to be quite enchanted with the Prince."

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "Aye. He is very beautiful; your Lady's description did not do him justice."

Haldir smiled and teasingly poked his lover.  "Do I have something to worry about, Glorfindel?  Do the twins have competition for the Prince's favors?"

Glorfindel chuckled and poked his lover back.  "I only have eyes for you, meleth nín.  However, the King…"

Haldir snorted and jabbed his lover in the ribs and heard Erestor grumble again.

"Can the two of you try to behave in a manner that suits your office for once?" Erestor groused.

Glorfindel shot a wicked grin over his shoulder and then smiled at his lover.  Haldir whispered, "How you can be friends with that Noldo is beyond me, he has the temperament of an orc."

Glorfindel laughed heartily, garnering attention from the twins and Erestor.  "Coming from you, meleth, that is quite a compliment."

< > < > < >

Thranduil returned from a strenuous afternoon of training, kicking off his boots and stripping his tunic and leggings before heading for his private bath.  He raised his hands over his head, clasping his wrists, stretching and twisting as he walked through the door into the baths.  He stepped down into the steaming pool of water, submersing himself before standing again and taking a seat on the side.  He sighed as he let his head fall back and come to rest upon the cool stone.  All the sand and sweat floated off his skin and he let the warm water wash away his worries.

Legolas’ visit that morning had shaken him up just a bit.  While he knew his son’s mind when it came to their relationship, he still felt unprepared to deal with the issue just yet.  He found his son nearly irresistible, but Legolas was still so young; there were so many things he needed to learn and experience.  He needed to be sure that this wasn’t a passing infatuation, that Legolas really did want him the way he professed he did; if not, their coupling would be a disaster. He would never harm his son; he would rather die first.

A knock upon the door roused him from his thoughts and he called for the visitor to enter.  His herald entered and informed him that the party from Lothlórien had just approached the bridge.  He stepped out of the bath and walked back into his chambers, heedless of the effect his nude form had on his blushing herald.  

A nervous young squire was waiting for him in his chambers and produced a thick cloth and went about drying the King’s body before holding up his robe and helping him into it.  He then ran a comb through Thranduil’s wet, clean hair and handed the clips to him as the King braided it.  He then handed his King the crown and bowed again as Thranduil placed it upon his head and slipped on a pair of shoes.

Thranduil smiled as he watched his nervous young squire, the young elf had only been in his service less than a month, and patted him on the back of the head as he departed the chamber.

< > < > < >

The travelers arrived at a stone bridge that crossed a fast moving river that appeared to come from inside the mountain.  At the end of the bridge was a great iron gate, one of the largest any of them had seen, save for the Black Gate itself.  As they crossed the bridge, Legolas raised his hand and the gates opened; though how they moved, no one could tell.  After they safely crossed through, Elrohir heard a loud clang and looked behind him to see they had locked shut again.  He swallowed; this place made him nervous.  The whole forest had an ominous feel about it, the air was close around them and it was dark.  If one looked long enough, one would imagine they could see things moving in the dark brush and seemingly unreachable treetops.

Once safely inside, they were greeted by a bustling group of servants to the King.  Legolas escorted the travelers to his father’s throne room after the stable hands took their horses and the chambermaids saw their belongings stowed in their rooms.  As the Prince pushed open the heavy double doors, they entered a deceptively large room that was cut deep into the hillside.

Glorfindel and company found themselves a bit disconcerted at the atmosphere in which these elves lived. Imladris and Lothlórien were bright and airy places.  Imladris’ dwellings were made up of elaborately constructed buildings built on the sides of a deep canyon with large windows and terraces that brought nature inside.  Lothlórien’s talans existed in the trees themselves so one was always in the midst of the forest.  

However, Thranduil’s dwellings were underground, deep rough-hewn caverns cut into the Mountains of Mirkwood.  There were few windows other than the uppermost levels of the caves.  A river ran underneath the mountain and through the caves, and while it was on the lower levels, near the dungeons, one could still hear the sound of running water throughout the palace.  The walls were rough stone, and iron lanterns and torches were mounted upon the cavern walls every few feet to provide light.  The air was surprisingly clear and fresh considering they were underground, and Glorfindel guessed it was Thranduil’s magic that kept it that way.  A long carpet covered the stone floor as they approached the throne and Glorfindel’s eyes drifted upward from it to find the King of Mirkwood sitting upon his throne.  

Again, he found himself temporarily stunned by what he saw in front of him.  Glorfindel’s life had been long, and in those ages, he had seen many beautiful elves and men.  Nevertheless, what sat before him now rivaled the beauty of the Evenstar, perhaps even the beauty of Lúthien herself.  However, this was no elf maid he looked upon, but the most glorious male he had ever seen.  Thranduil Oropherion sat upon his large throne, a band of orange and gold flowers and amber leaves entwined in a crown of mithril rested upon his head.  He held in his ringed hand an enormous carved oak staff, taller than he was, and he wore robes of the deepest green, made of the lushest velvet the warrior had ever seen.  Beneath those robes was a finely built body; broad, strong shoulders and a long waist.  The robe lay against his skin in such a way that one could see the fine, sculpted muscles in his thighs, and Glorfindel thought he saw the faint outline of something on the King’s chest that looked like rings in his nipples.  But it was what lay beneath the crown that the warrior could not tear his eyes from.  A mane of flaxen hair that hung to his waist, elaborately braided and clipped, adorned the King’s head.  His sapphire eyes burned with an intensity that Glorfindel had rarely seen the like of.  He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones, and lips that were the color of a pale rose and seemed to be made for kissing.

He blinked from his long perusal of the King and found himself standing in front of his throne.  He dropped to one knee, his habit as a warrior addressing a ruler, placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head.  The others followed suit, as Legolas mounted the few steps and sat beside his father.

“Mae govannen, my Lord,” he said softly.

Thranduil looked at the warrior kneeling before him.  He remembered seeing Glorfindel at Barad-dûr, and he was already acquainted with the Lord Erestor; it would be hard to forget such beauties.  He gently bid the warrior rise, and smiled warmly as Glorfindel’s gaze met his own.  He thought to himself that it had been long since he had the pleasure of such lovely company.  

Glorfindel was radiant, long, thick golden hair, a lean yet strong body, deep azure eyes that held a sparkle of mischief, soft pink lips that he imagined tasted like honey.  The Vanyar possessed such a remarkable beauty; Eru was indeed kind when he created them.  The Silvan that knelt on Glorfindel’s right was also beautiful: long, fine, almost silver hair that hung straight past his shoulders, pale bluish gray eyes that burned with a warrior’s fire, a powerful, lithe, archer’s body with elegant yet strong hands; he was a warrior, of that there was no doubt.  Erestor was as striking as he remembered from his youth: ink black hair, straight as an arrow was braided into a single thick plait that hung like ebony rope down his back, his lithe body was covered in garments of black suede and velvet, and tall leather boots encased his lean calves.  His eyes were pale gray and held mystery that he rarely saw in his own kind; the Noldor carried a long legacy of hardship.  He knew all too well what was hidden beneath those dark garments and steely eyes.  

Then there were the twins.  In all his life, he never remembered seeing any elf that was so exotic, not even Elrond was that unusual.  They resembled their father to be sure, but they also possessed their mother’s ethereal beauty and that made their allure all the more wondrous.  They were mirror images of each other: thick, rich, sable hair, large pewter eyes, aristocratic faces, and the fullest, ripest lips he had ever laid eyes upon.  They were tall, but not as tall as Legolas and Galathil; they possessed lean bodies with narrow waists and long legs.  Upon closer inspection, he began to see small differences between them.

Glorfindel’s voice interrupted his perusal as the warrior greeted him.

“I am Glorfindel, faithful servant to Lord Elrond.  It is upon the Lady Galadriel’s request that we visit your realm.”

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement and answered, “Welcome to Mirkwood, Lord Glorfindel.  You grace our court with your beauty and honorable person.  Please, introduce your companions.”

Glorfindel turned to his left.  “You are already acquainted with Erestor, Chief Counselor to our Lord Elrond.”

Erestor bowed his head and placed his hand over his heart.  “’Tis an honor to see you again, my Lord.”

The corners of the King’s lips turned up into a smile.  “The honor is mine, Lord Erestor.  It has been too long.”

Glorfindel then turned to his right.  “This is Haldir of Lórien, Captain of the Marchwarden of the Galadhrim.”

Haldir bowed his head and covered his heart with his hand.  “My Lord, many thanks for your warm welcome.”

Thranduil nodded.  “The Galadhrim are always welcome in my realm.  It is a pleasure to meet one of the Lady’s finest warriors.  Perhaps you would enjoy some archery practice with the archers of my realm.  It would not do to let your skills become diminished with lack of use.”

Haldir smiled and answered, “It would be an honor and pleasure, my Lord.”

Glorfindel stepped aside and motioned to the twins to come forward.  “And these are the twin sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir.”

The twins bowed and answered in unison, “’Tis an honor, my Lord.”

Thranduil smiled broadly and answered, “’Tis rare to hear such beautiful music in my palace as your speech, young ones.  Welcome to my home, and I hope you find your stay and the company pleasurable.”

They answered in unison again, “We thank you for your hospitality and warm welcome, we will indeed enjoy our stay.”  Elladan added on his own, “The Prince has been a most kind and gentle host.  We can see now he inherited his beauty and grace from you, my Lord.”

Thranduil looked at his son, who smiled gently at him.  “Legolas is always a source of comfort and happiness for me.  I am fortunate that the Valar blessed me with so excellent a son.  As for my other son, I must extend my profound apologies.  In his eagerness to do his duties, he left on patrol, forgetting your pending visit.  He should return soon.  Riders have been dispatched to gather him hence.”  He rose from his chair and continued, “Please, you have traveled far, take your rest and we will meet again at dinner.”  He clapped his hands and a host of servants seemed to appear from nowhere.  “Warm baths have been drawn and you should find all that you need in your chambers.  Should you require anything else, please do not hesitate to ask for it.”

Glorfindel bowed his head again and replied, “Hannon lle, hîr nín.  You are a most gracious host.”

The travelers departed for their chambers, leaving Legolas alone with his father.

<  >  <  >  <  >

Thranduil stepped down from his throne and made his way to his chambers as Legolas followed.  “Well, Iôn?  What is your impression of Lord Elrond’s sons?”

Legolas smiled and looked at the ground as he walked beside Thranduil.  “They are beautiful to be sure, and they seem most courteous.  I suppose we will get to know one another better.”

Thranduil clasped his son’s hand and brought it to his lips as they walked.  He replied, “Do you prefer one over the other?  It is difficult to tell them apart at first.”

Legolas shook his head.  “It is too soon to tell, I think.  Though the one called Elladan is a bit more forward than the one called Elrohir.  They can tell I am innocent in the ways of the flesh, Ada, as can all who meet me.”  He sighed after the last statement and leaned his head against his father’s shoulder as Thranduil placed an arm around him.

Thranduil guided his son into his chambers and closed the door behind them.  He clasped Legolas’ shoulders and turned him to face him.  “There is no shame in that, Legolas.  Better to wait for one you want than to rush in just to gain experience.  I know of what I speak, Iôn.”

Legolas looked into his father’s eyes and furrowed his fair brow.  “Was your first time unpleasant, Ada?”

Thranduil smiled at his son’s concerned and gentle questioning.  He caressed his face and softly answered, “Nay, Greenleaf.  Just… unremarkable.  I thought that I must be doing something wrong, I could perform the act well enough, but I felt no enthusiasm for it.  It wasn’t until I was older and met someone who truly inspired me that I found what a wonderful experience it could be.”  He guided his son to the bed and sat beside him.

“Does it hurt, Ada?  The first time you let one…” Legolas’ voice trailed off as he flushed bright pink and looked at the bed.

Thranduil smiled and placed a kiss upon the top of his son’s head.  “Aye, but if it is done properly and with care, the pain is less than the pleasure you will feel.”  

Legolas looked up at his father.  “Have you ever been in love, Ada?”

“Yes, I have.  Twice in my life.”

“Who, Ada?  Whom did you love?  Did you love Naneth?” Legolas asked quietly.

Thranduil nodded.  “Aye, I loved your mother, Greenleaf.  I loved her very much.  She was a kind and good wife, and would have been a good mother given the chance.  Her passing grieved me tremendously.  I have not given my heart to another since.  My first love was an elf Lord, one who knew my father.  But we were not meant to be.”  He sighed.  “The true danger, Iôn, is in losing your heart to one who does not take care with it.  Guard against that with all your strength of will, Greenleaf.  We only have one heart, and once broken, it does not heal easily.”

Legolas smiled and nestled his head against his father’s neck.  “I am not afraid of that, Ada.  I have already given my heart to one who would never hurt me, to the only one I know would protect it with his life.  I will give it to no other.”

Thranduil sighed and stroked his son’s hair.  He had no answer to give him that would not cause him pain.  The selfish part of him wanted to keep the precious gift that Legolas gave him. But he feared that to do that would rob his son of any chance he had to be truly happy and to find a mate he could bond with properly and for life.

He patted Legolas on the shoulder and took a deep breath.  “Go on now, Legolas.  You must ready yourself for dinner and I have business to attend to before we meet our guests again.”

Legolas smiled brightly at his father and placed a feather light kiss upon his lips.  He lingered there for just a moment, breathing in his father’s scent, reveling in the softness of his lips and his strong hands upon his shoulders.  He then pried himself away and smiled again, quietly answering his father, “Yes, Ada.”  He walked toward the door and paused before opening it.  He looked back over his shoulder and smiled.  “Melon lle, Ada,” he said softly.

Thranduil smiled and answered, “Melon lle, my Greenleaf.”

Legolas crossed through the doorway and closed the door behind him, making for his own quarters.

< > < > < >

Elladan and Elrohir were given adjoining rooms and they waited a respectful amount of time after the chambermaids left to unlock the door between them.  Elrohir stepped across the threshold and into his twin’s arms, burying his face in his hair.

“Is your outer door locked, muindor?” Elladan asked quietly.

“Yes,” Elrohir breathed.

“Good,” Elladan growled in reply.  He pulled Elrohir to his bed and quickly began removing his younger twin’s garments, batting his hands away when he tried to help.

Elrohir trembled with want and Elladan was in a predatory mood, which always excited him beyond reason.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the nagging throbbing in his loins, the heat that flushed his skin, and the sound of his own ragged breathing.  Ever since that first night by the swimming hole, Elrohir had been lost to his brother.  Elladan had taken him forcefully, ignoring his pitiful pleas that he stop, that what they did was wrong, and he now thanked the Valar for it.  He craved his twin, loved him beyond reason or measure; he was defined by Elladan’s touch, by his own body’s unwavering need for him.

He stood before Elladan, now fully divested of his garments and watched his twin consume his flesh with his hungry eyes.  He felt the beads of moisture that blossomed at the tip of his quivering arousal and he returned his brother’s hungry gaze.

“Touch yourself, Elrohir,” Elladan softly commanded.

Elrohir obeyed his brother’s command and slowly began running his hands over his body in the way he knew Elladan liked.  His palms grazed his pebbled nipples and he began fondling them with his fingers, arching his back and moaning quietly.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment before hearing Elladan sternly order him to open them again.  He returned his gaze to that of his twin and licked his lips, imagining Elladan’s mouth consuming his own.  One hand traveled slowly down his abdomen, his fingers brushing though the hair that grew around his arousal.  His now unbound hair fell forward as he lowered his chin just enough to gaze at his twin beneath his weighted lids, and the corners of his lips curved in to a small smile as his fingers locked around his own length.  He watched Elladan’s body respond to what he did to himself; he saw the rising bulge in his leggings, the increased tempo of his chest expanding and contracting with each deep breath, his tongue dart out and wet his lips in anticipation.  Elladan began removing his own garments as his hand momentarily left his arousal and he cupped the pouch of skin beneath his length and rolled its weight slowly.  Elladan’s tunic fell in the floor and he heard the pop of the string that held his brother’s leggings closed.  His hand traveled further back, his fingers massaging his own entrance as he spread his legs.  His other hand left his hard nipple and he placed two fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, his eyes never leaving his brother’s.  He placed his hand behind his back, reaching for his entrance when Elladan stepped out of his leggings and ordered him to stop.

“Wait.  That is for me, melethron,” he whispered huskily.  He approached Elrohir and tangled his fingers in his hair, pressing a bruising kiss to his waiting lips and feeling his trembling body yield to his advances.  He slowly and thoroughly kissed his brother, not stopping until Elrohir whimpered pleadingly.  He pulled back from their heated kiss and looked into his brother’s eyes that glistened with unshed tears of want.  He caressed Elrohir’s face and smiled lovingly, taking his chin in his mouth and sucking on it gently as his twin moaned in response.  He turned Elrohir around and pushed him to his knees next to the bed before stroking his own arousal and making it slick with his own seed.  He then knelt behind him, taking Elrohir’s wrists and pinning them over his head against the mattress, bending his brother over until Elrohir’s chest rested against the bed.  

“Lle naa vanima, muindor,” he crooned in Elrohir’s ear.  “I have waited to do this since we left the Golden Wood, and now I plan to make it last as long as I can.”

Elrohir spread his legs as wide as he could and arched back against Elladan, quietly replying, “Take me, Elladan, and do it slowly, do not stop until I beg you for release.”

Elladan smiled against his brother’s shoulder; Elrohir always knew what was in his mind, what he wanted from him.  “That is just what I plan to do, my beauty,” he growled.  He slowly pushed inside Elrohir’s body, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt in his brother’s heat.  Elrohir moaned and undulated against him, arching his back and rolling his hips forward slowly.  He latched his lips upon Elrohir’s ear, savoring his flesh, slowly tormenting him with long strokes of his tongue punctuated by nibbles on the point.  He leisurely entered his brother and withdrew to his tip, repeating this motion over and over, until he heard what he waited for, the sound of his twin’s voice begging.  He increased the pace, striking his mark, thrusting harder and faster, driving deeper until he felt his impending release roaring in his veins.  He growled as he thrust in as deeply as he could, burying himself to his root as he spilled his essence inside his twin’s body.

Elrohir cried out into the mattress, the soft bedding muffling his wail of ecstasy.   He spilled his release against the bed and panted underneath his brother as Elladan collapsed upon him, his soft lips caressing his ear as they reveled in their spent passion.  He found climax, but still felt achingly unfulfilled.  He knew this game well, he would remain in this state for the rest of the night until Elladan finally took him to bed and embraced his aching flesh with his sweet mouth, bringing him the release he would so desperately need.  He smiled as Elladan whispered words in his ear so sweet as to melt the coldest heart, and he returned his brother’s poetic words with his own that professed his undying love and devotion.  He was whole in these moments when he sheathed his brother’s length inside him, when he was wrapped in his strong arms and comforting words.

They reluctantly parted, slowly kissing and caressing one another before rising from the floor and stepping into the bath to prepare for dinner.

< > < > < >

Chapter 3

Haldir’s lithe frame stretched taut as Glorfindel’s mouth closed upon his length.

“Elbereth!” he hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes closing in bliss.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes up at his lover in amusement and took him deeper, swirling his tongue around the base of his shaft. His oiled fingers teased the opening of Haldir’s body but did not enter him, despite the marchwarden’s breathless pleading.

“Saes, Glorfindel,” Haldir ground out. “Do not torment me so.”

The Vanya lifted his head, letting Haldir’s length slide from his lips and smirked. “We have several hours before we are expected at dinner, seron vell. I intend to make the most of them.” He lowered his head once more, running the tip of his tongue over the weeping crown of Haldir’s length. “I promise you will find it worth the wait.”

Haldir’s hands gripped the sheets and wadded them tightly in his fists as Glorfindel resumed his leisurely torment. He groaned helplessly, undone by his lover’s touch. The warmth of Glorfindel’s mouth was replaced by his hand as the golden warrior moved lower. His tongue found Haldir’s opening and circled it, the tip of it probing gently. 

Glorfindel felt the body beneath him quiver as his tongue breached his lover’s body, and he pressed as deeply as he could, delighting in the soft moans that escaped Haldir’s lips. His hand moved in a slow rhythm over Haldir’s length, the smooth column already slick with his lover’s arousal. 

“Gods,” Haldir groaned, closing his eyes in bliss. “Do not stop.”  His body tightened and he cried out his release, the warmth of his seed spilling over them both. 

The Vanya smiled his success, and before Haldir could react, he had flipped his lover over onto his stomach.  He ran his fingertips over the smooth curves of Haldir’s buttocks, admiring their shape and feel. The marchwarden was like a golden god beneath him, perfect in every way, and Glorfindel could not keep from worshipping his flesh with his mouth.

Haldir gasped when he felt Glorfindel’s fingers enter him, stretching him carefully. His lover’s lips had moved lower and were mouthing the sensitive pouch of skin just below Haldir’s arousal, and the combination of the two sensations was almost too much to bear. His length was hardening again, pressed against the mattress and he moaned softly as his need grew desperate.

“Mmm,” Glorfindel purred, raising his head and nipping lightly on the full curve of one buttock. Haldir squirmed beneath him, groaned as Glorfindel added a third finger. He curled his index finger slightly, and was rewarded with a breathless cry as he struck his mark. 

“Saes, meleth nín,” Haldir pleaded, his body quivering with need when Glorfindel’s fingers hit his mark again. “Aníron lle.”

His own need throbbing mercilessly, driven to the state by Haldir’s own cries, Glorfindel could no longer resist his lover’s pleading. He withdrew his fingers, pulling Haldir’s hips up until his lover was on his knees. Glorfindel knelt behind him, placing the tip of his arousal at Haldir’s opening. He entered him with a slowness that was sweetly agonizing for the both, and their gasps of pleasure echoed softly in the room. 

“Ai, yes,” Glorfindel breathed, feeling the tight heat surround his length. The exquisiteness of the sensation nearly undid him. Gripping Haldir’s hips tightly in both hands, he began to move. His thrusts were shallow and controlled, and he concentrated on running his length over his mark until Haldir began to arch and flex against him. His lover’s movements drove him deeper and he was lost. Reaching forward with one hand, he grasped Haldir’s length. He thrust deeply, timing his movements with the strokes on Haldir’s arousal until his lover was openly moaning in abandon. 

Haldir tightened around him, squeezing his length mercilessly as his release claimed him. With a groan, Glorfindel’s own release came, and he buried his hardness into his lover’s warmth.  Breathless, he collapsed against Haldir’s strong back, and felt the body beneath him trembling with the aftershocks.

For a moment, neither of them moved, until Haldir finally cleared his throat.

“As much as I love having you in that position, meleth nín, my arms are beginning to tire.”

With a soft chuckle, Glorfindel straightened and withdrew his softening length. “My apologies, hûn nín.”

They curled together on the bed, Haldir’s head resting on Glorfindel’s chest.  A soft, contented sigh escaped the marchwarden, causing Glorfindel to chuckle again.

“Happy, are you, meleth?” he asked quietly, smiling.

“Aye,” Haldir replied.

“Was it worth the wait?” he could not resist teasing. His grin widened when Haldir rolled an eye up at him.

“Aye,” Haldir admitted, his lips twitching faintly as he struggled not to smile.

Glorfindel chuckled, pressing a swift kiss to his temple. “Good.”  His arms tightened around Haldir, holding him closer. “I have another question for you, meleth nín,” he said softly.

Haldir heard a note of uncertainty in the Balrog Slayer’s voice that was wholly uncharacteristic. He rose up on one elbow so he could see Glorfindel’s face better.  “What is it?” he asked worriedly.

“If we could find a way where we could both be together, and still fulfill our duties,” he began, hesitating for a moment before plunging bravely onward. “Would you consider making our relationship permanent?”

Haldir’s eyebrows rose as he looked down at his lover. “I thought our relationship was permanent. We do not seek other lovers.” Realization of what Glorfindel was truly asking him dawned across his features. “Or did you mean something else?”

Glorfindel nodded slowly. “I did.” He looked searchingly up at Haldir’s face. “Would you?”

A slow smile spread across Haldir’s handsome face and he nodded. “I would.”  He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against Glorfindel’s mouth. “Come, there is a nice warm bath waiting for us.”

Pulling Haldir down against him, Glorfindel kissed him slowly, as if for the first time. “A bath sounds nice,” he purred when he finally released him. “But I can think of better ways to spend our time, a’maelamin.”

Haldir shook his head and chuckled softly at the bright gleam in the warrior’s azure eyes. “You are insatiable, meleth nín,” he said, gasping when Glorfindel’s fingers found nipples and pinched them. 

Glorfindel grinned wickedly up at him. “You are not complaining, I hope?”

“No,” Haldir groaned, burying his face in the warmth of Glorfindel’s neck and nipping the soft skin lightly. His body was already reawakening to his lover’s sure touch. “Never.”

< > < > < >

Galathil grumbled under his breath as he followed his father’s wardens through the main gate of his home. They had found him, despite his best attempts to evade discovery, and with strong words and threats, forced him to return to his father’s hall with them. Warden was an accurate description, he thought blackly, as they literally shouldered him into the main hall. There was certainly no escaping their attentions.

His mumbled curses died upon his lips, however, when he saw the expression on his Adar’s face.

“Leave us,” Thranduil commanded his two best wardens, giving them a faint nod of approval for completing their task. They bowed respectfully and turned, leaving the Prince Regent alone with the King.

Thranduil eyed his oldest son, noting the wear and stains on his clothing with open disapproval.  His gaze finally rested on Galathil’s face. Folding his arms across his chest, he fixed the Prince with a stern look.

“Well,” Thranduil drawled softly. “What do you have to say for yourself, Iôn?”

“What would you have me say, Adar?” he replied, determined not to show any remorse for his actions.

“An apology for running away and leaving me and your brother to explain your absence to our honored guests might be a good place to start, Iôn,” Thranduil said. “I was expecting you here to greet them. Instead, I had to send Tarlyn and Amras to go and fetch you.” His expression softened somewhat. “Why did you not obey me, Iôn? Why did you think you needed to hide from them?”

“I was not hiding, Adar,” Galathil said strongly. “I simply did not wish to meet them.”

Thranduil scowled. “Why ever not?”

Galathil wavered under the strength of his father’s scowl. He took a deep breath and pressed doggedly onward. “I have no wish to associate with those Peredhil,” he said, lifting his chin slightly. “They are not like us.”

The King regarded his son, raising an elegant eyebrow. When Galathil said nothing further, Thranduil shook his head. “I see,” he said finally. “You believe they are not worthy of your attention? Is that it, Iôn?”

The gleam in his father’s eye told Galathil he had made an error in speaking his mind. He backpedaled quickly. “No, Adar. It is not that,” he amended hastily. “I just do not wish to be coerced into bonding with one of them.”  He breathed a silent sigh of relief, thinking that his argument was sound.

Thranduil eyed him. “Your concerns are groundless, Galathil,” he said coolly. “And I find your attitude towards the sons of Lord Elrond less than worthy of a Prince of your station. You know them not at all, so how can you presume to judge them on their mixed heritage alone?”

Galathil bowed his head, feeling like an elfling in the face of his father’s disapproval.

“I see only one alternative,” Thranduil continued, his voice hardening. “I charge you with the well being of Elrohir and Elladan while they are guests.”

The Prince lifted his head, his expression betraying his surprise and dismay. “What do you mean, Adar?”

Thranduil dropped his arms to his sides. “What I mean is this: you will see to it that their every wish is granted, and that they want for nothing. You will entertain them and act as their host. Your duty is now to the sons of Elrond.”

Galathil swallowed and bowed his head. “Yes, Adar.”

“And know this: I expect you to fulfill this duty to the absolute best of your ability. Do not think that because you are my firstborn son, I will hesitate to punish you for dereliction of duty the same as I would any of my subjects loyal to me,” Thranduil finished, his tone brooking no argument.

“Yes, Adar,” Galathil answered meekly.

“Now go, and ready yourself as befits your rank,” Thranduil said, flicking his eyes over Galathil’s travel stained clothing. “You are expected at dinner this evening.”

Grateful for the excuse, Galathil bowed, and fled his father’s presence. He did not see Thranduil’s smile as the door closed behind him.

< > < > < >

Thranduil rubbed his forehead wearily, though his smile did not fade from his face. His oldest was trying at times, but he could not help but love the stubborn, hardheaded Prince. He could only hope to guide him, teach him, and show him that the world was far bigger than he knew.

Giving him the duty of serving the Peredhil while they were guests was a stroke of genius, Thranduil thought, his smile widening slightly. He was far too full of himself. Hopefully Elrohir and Elladan would take him down a peg or two, and in the process, teach his eldest a little humility. 

Pleased with his decision, Thranduil made his way through the door that would eventually lead to his chambers. His steps led him past the library, and he saw that the door was open. Curious about who could be in his library, Thranduil paused at the entrance and looked inside.

A large stack of books were stacked in a neat column on a desk, and behind them, and Thranduil had to admit he was not surprised to see who it was that had dared to invade his library.

Erestor’s dark head was bent over a rather impressive looking tome, his finger tracing the words as he read them. He was so enraptured by whatever he was reading that he did not notice Thranduil enter.

Thranduil watched him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. 
“I see you found my library, Lord Erestor,” Thranduil said finally, smiling at the startled expression that crossed the counselor’s face.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Erestor looked up, but looked anything but apologetic. “I did not mean to trespass.  One of your servants told me you had an extensive library, and I am afraid I could not resist the temptation to see it for myself.”

Thranduil chuckled softly. “There is nothing to forgive, Lord Erestor. I am gratified to see another using it.”  He crossed the room and stopped in front of the desk. He could tell that Erestor wanted nothing more than to go back to his reading, but the elf was doing his best not to show it.

“Is there something you wanted, my Lord?” Erestor asked politely. 

Settling his weight easily on the corner of the desk, Thranduil looked down at the counselor and nodded. “Actually, there is something I would like your assistance with.” 

Dark eyebrows rose briefly as Erestor looked at him in surprise. “Certainly, my Lord. What can I help with?”

Thranduil laced his fingers together over his knee. “My eldest son, Galathil, has been, shall we say, less than enthused about meeting Elladan and Elrohir. Quite frankly, he is appalled by the very idea of bonding with either of them.”  The King shook his head, sighing. “He is stubborn, willful, and overly proud.”

Erestor said nothing, but Thranduil did not need Galadriel’s powers to read what the counselor was thinking. 

Thranduil nodded. “Aye, he is quite a bit like his sire, I will grant. But I hope that over the last age I at least have become a bit more open minded.”

The dark-haired elf inclined his head gracefully. “You have changed, my Lord, I will agree. You are no longer the fiery-tempered Prince you were when your father was King. You have much more patience and a better understanding of your fellows.”  Erestor smiled briefly. “Becoming a parent changes all of us in that regard.”  He closed the book he was reading and gave the King his undivided attention. “What is it you would like me to do?”

“I have charged Galathil with the well-being of Elrohir and Elladan while they are guests here,” Thranduil answered. “But I am thinking that duty alone will not be enough to teach him the lesson I wish for him to learn.”

Erestor folded his hands beneath his chin and looked up at Thranduil. “And what lesson would that be, my Lord?” he asked softly.

“Humility.”

“Humility?” Erestor repeated, his eyebrows rising once more. He smiled briefly and nodded. “Ah, yes. I am familiar with that word.”

Thranduil snorted. “I remember.”

Erestor’s smile grew as he regarded the King. “I am glad to hear you remember your lessons with me. Knowing what kind of task-master I am, and my expectations of the pupils I tutor, you still wish me to…instruct your son?”

“He may be King one day,” Thranduil retorted. “I think the lessons you would teach him would be well served.”

“If that is what you wish,” Erestor replied easily. “Then I will endeavor to do my best by Prince Galathil. Will you tell him?”

Thranduil nodded. “I will give him the choice of serving the Peredhil or serving you. He will, of course, choose the latter, believing it to be the lesser and easier task. I will leave the rest up to you.”

Erestor chuckled softly, settling back in the chair. “Pity that your youngest does not need such instruction,” he said wistfully. “He is a rare beauty. I would love to have him for instruction, even for just a night.”

The King frowned. “Legolas is as different from his brother as Ithil and Anor. They are opposite sides of the same coin.” He shook his head at Erestor. “No, my gentle son does not need your teachings, Lord Erestor. And I would not give him to you for such.”

“Pity,” Erestor said again, but smiled knowingly. “You are hoping that one of the twins will…?” he trailed off, his implication clear.

Thranduil nodded curtly. “I want his first experience to be remarkable. Having seen Elladan and Elrohir, either of them would easily suffice. They are truly beyond what I expected.”  He lifted his gaze, smirking briefly. “Tell me, has Lord Elrond ever approached you about them?”

Erestor looked appalled by the thought. “Most certainly not, my Lord. They are wild, yes, and he despairs at times that they will ever settle down. But he would never…” Erestor shook his head firmly.

Thranduil chuckled softly. “They are beauties, the two of them. I look forward to getting to know them better.”  He rose from his seat, adjusting the folds of his robe.  He turned towards the door and paused. “I will send Galathil to you after dinner this evening.”

“I will do my best, my Lord,” Erestor replied, opening the book once more. 

< > < > < >

A knock sounded on the wood of the door, and Elladan lifted his head, his fingers automatically continuing their task of braiding his brother’s hair.

“Come in,” he said, patting the last braid into place. 

The door opened as he was changing positions with Elrohir, settling himself comfortably on the floor between his brother’s knees. Elrohir was already gathering strands to braid them as Legolas stepped into the room.

The Prince smiled hesitantly at them and was rewarded with bright smiles from them both. 

“I trust you are both well rested?” he asked politely, watching the one called Elrohir braid his brother’s sable hair with well-practiced ease. 

“Yes, thank you,” Elladan responded, hiding his smile. He rolled his eyes up at his twin and saw Elrohir’s eyes were bright with mirth. They had not ‘rested’ at all. 

“I am here to escort you to dinner,” Legolas continued, unaware of the reason for their good humor. 

Elrohir finished the last of the braid and squeezed Elladan’s shoulder lightly. “All done, muindor,” he said softly. 

They followed the Prince down the hall, and neither of them minded the view they were afforded of Legolas’ slim backside as he descended the stairs. Elladan smirked knowingly at his twin, who rolled his eyes in response. 

There was no one else save the servants in the dining room when they arrived, and Legolas led them to a trio of seats comfortably situated in front of the large fireplace. 

“Adar and Galathil should be here any moment,” Legolas said quietly, offering them each a glass of wine. “My brother arrived only an hour ago, but I am pleased you will get to meet him.”

“Is he as fair as you are, my Prince?” Elladan asked with a coy smile, before taking a sip of his wine. 

Legolas matched his smile. “Some would say fairer, though I do not think he is anywhere near as lovely as you and Elrohir.”  He took a drink of his wine.

“You are too kind,” Elrohir said quietly, and he heard his brother’s mental snort. 

“Not at all,” Legolas replied smoothly. “I merely speak of what I see.”

Elladan smiled and placed his wine glass carefully on the hearth beside him. “Tell me,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “Have you many suitors, my Prince?”

Elrohir nearly choked on his wine and he gave his brother a brief look. ~Subtle, gwannig nín.~

Legolas lifted an eyebrow at his question. “Some,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

"I find that hard to believe. One as beautiful as yourself must have many that would wish to woo you.  I only hope that my brother and I will have a fair chance at garnering your favors," Elladan said with a faint smirk. 

Both of Legolas' eyebrows rose at this. "Well," he said, blushing faintly at Elladan's directness. "I could say, at this time, the competition for my 'favors', as you so delicately put it, is rather slight at the moment."

"Truly?" Elladan said, his smile broadening. "I envy the lucky creature who has the honor of being your lover."

Legolas took a sip of his wine and smiled wolfishly. "Perhaps it will be you, Elladan," he said, his voice dropping low.  He turned and cast a heated glance at Elrohir. "Or, perhaps you, beautiful one."  His smile widened. "Or, perhaps both?"  Legolas' took another sip of his wine, his tongue snaking out to catch a drop that spilt on his lip, well aware of the sudden silence from the Peredhil as they watched.  "I have been told that I should make my first time remarkable. I can think of nothing more remarkable than having the two of you in my bed."

Elrohir smirked, glancing at his brother.

"Being in your bed would be remarkable indeed," Elladan answered smoothly. "Though I wonder if you would be... up for the experience?"

Legolas chuckled softly, laying a hand on Elladan's knee. "Oh, I think I would be, meldir. Most assuredly."

Elrohir sat forward in his chair, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate embroidery on Legolas tunic. His eyes flickered to Legolas face and he gave him a slow, lazy smile. "I think we may have to put your words to the test, meldir," he purred softly.

"Oh yes," Elladan agreed, placing his hand over Legolas and leaning forward as well. "Most assuredly."

Legolas licked his lips, his eyes flicking from one pair of pewter eyes to the other. 

Elrohir glanced at his brother and as one, they both moved forward, pressing their lips to opposite ears. Their warm breath sent shivers of anticipation down Legolas spine.

"Are you certain," Elrohir whispered, his lips lightly touching the delicate point of Legolas' ear.

"That you wish to be at both our mercies?" Elladan finished, running his tongue over the curve of the Prince's other ear.

Legolas laughed softly, his hands reaching up to cradle their heads, sliding his fingers into the silkiness of their hair. His fingertips brushed the tips of their ears, and he felt them shiver in response. "Oh yes," he said breathlessly, biting back a groan. "I would."

The rustle of robes drew the three of them apart, and they had each managed to settle back into their chairs by the time Lord Erestor, Haldir, and Glorfindel arrived. Their faces were flushed, but their color could easily be blamed on the heat of the fire they sat next to.

Elladan and Elrohir smiled innocently up at Glorfindel as the seneschal greeted them. 

“I do not trust you two when you smile like that,” Glorfindel said, eyeing them suspiciously. “What trouble could you have caused in so short amount of time?”

“Trouble?” Elladan asked, looking at his brother with an expression of complete bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

“We have been sitting here with Prince Legolas, having a polite conversation,” Elrohir added, looking reproachfully at Glorfindel. “I would not say we were causing trouble.”

Legolas laughed. “No indeed, Lord Glorfindel. They have been most…entertaining.”

Glorfindel nodded. “They can be entertaining, when they are not being utter scamps.”

“Do not believe him, my Prince,” Elladan said, shaking his head with a laugh. “He still thinks of us as elflings under his tutelage. He forgets we are grown.”

Erestor snorted under his breath, shaking his head. Haldir hid his smirk, turning to examine the elegant tapestry that hung next to the fireplace. Glorfindel merely sighed.

< > < > < >

The servants moved unobtrusively around the table, replacing dishes, taking empty cups and plates away. The candles in the room had burned down halfway, and cast an inviting glow about the room. The wine had flowed freely, and his guests had relaxed their guard somewhat under its influence. Thranduil leaned his chin on his hand and watched the proceedings with great interest.

Elladan and Elrohir were sitting next to each other and across from his sons. Thranduil could not decide which was more intriguing, the way that the twins looked at each other and accidentally touched each other when they thought no one would observe them, or the way they kept looking at both Legolas and Galathil like they were dessert. Legolas, to his credit, was holding his own, casting smoldering looks at both Peredhil that made Thranduil grin inwardly; his youngest was more like himself than he realized. Galathil, on the other hand, was trying his best to do his father’s bidding and hold a polite conversation with the twins. However, everything he commented on was quickly turned back on him, usually in the form of an innuendo of sorts, and Galathil was becoming quite flustered. His oldest son’s consternation only grew when he realized that Lord Erestor was eyeing him as well. There was a speculative gleam in the Noldo’s eye that made Thranduil almost feel sorry for his eldest son. Almost.

Glorfindel sat opposite Haldir, and the two were constantly making eye contact and smiling for no apparent reason. Thranduil managed to keep from chuckling at the sight. He would never have thought to see the great Balrog Slayer so smitten. 

More wine was served, and the twins began to openly flirt with Legolas. 

“How impressive is your sword, my Prince?” Elrohir asked.

“Can you wield it with any strength?” Elladan added.

“Do you have to use both hands?” Elrohir grinned.

Legolas smiled, laughing softly. “Why, yes. I have been told my sword is rather large. Perhaps you would enjoy a demonstration of my swordsmanship later?”

Glorfindel overheard part of the conversation, but was unaware of its context as he innocently added. “Elladan and Elrohir are both masters at swordsmanship. I should think you would greatly enjoy sparring together.”

Thranduil nearly choked on his wine.

Elladan and Elrohir snickered, but Legolas merely smiled. “Why yes, I would enjoy that. Very much.”

Galathil frowned and opened his mouth to add something, when Lord Erestor leaned over and whispered something in his ear. No one else save Thranduil heard the Noldo purr softly, “I have a better use for that tongue than idle banter.”  The Prince looked stunned for a moment, before closing his mouth. A brilliant flush colored his cheeks as Erestor returned to his seat, chuckling quietly.

Dinner ended with strawberries and cream, and Thranduil found himself watching the twins devour their fruit with more than a bit of interest. Their ripe lips seemed to caress the fruit before swallowing it, and though he knew their teasing was meant for Legolas, he could not help but appreciate their efforts. When the last plate was cleared away and the last of the wine consumed, Thranduil rose gracefully to his feet.

“I wish you all good evening,” he said as they rose as well. “Galathil, I wish a word with you before I retire.”

Grateful to be excused from the presence of the twins and Lord Erestor, Galathil followed his father out of the dining room and into his study. 

Haldir looked at Glorfindel and grinned. “I think the King has the right idea, meldir,” he said quietly. “Shall we retire?”

Glorfindel chuckled wickedly. “After you, my dear marchwarden.”  He turned and gave the twins a stern look. “I expect the two of you to behave as befits your station. I do not wish to have to explain to your father how his two sons caused a diplomatic incident while guests in Mirkwood.”

“Yes, seneschal,” they replied in unison, their eyes twinkling with suppressed merriment. 

Lord Erestor rolled his eyes at Glorfindel. “You are wasting your breath, meldir,” he said, moving away from the table to sit by the fireplace. 

The Vanya laughed, and followed Haldir out of the dining room. They heard the marchwarden’s undignified squawk of outrage followed by Glorfindel’s wicked chuckle, but could only guess at the cause. 

< > < > < >

Galathil waited pensively as his father poured himself a glass of brandy, his hands folded behind his back. He waited for his father to chastise him for doing so poorly with the Peredhil. It simply was not fair. He did not have Legolas flair with flirting or with words. He was far too straightforward an elf for such things, and did not have much skill with them. Elladan and Elrohir had been aware of his pitiful attempts and had scorned them, it seemed, giving their attention to his younger brother instead. How was he to compete with Legolas when he was woefully outmatched by all three of them?

Thranduil carefully replaced the stopper on the decanter and turned to face his eldest son. 

“I have a proposal for you, Iôn,” his father began. “Or a choice, rather, for you to make.”

Galathil looked at him in surprise. This was not what he had expected. “Yes, Ada?”

Placing the brandy snifter carefully on the corner of his desk, Thranduil folded his arms and regarded him. “You did not do well with Elladan and Elrohir this evening, Iôn, though I know you tried your best.  It seems to me that perhaps the lesson I wish for you to learn would be best learned from someone older and more experienced than the sons of Elrond.”

“What do you mean, Ada?” Galathil asked. 

“I will give you the choice of continuing your duty to Elladan and Elrohir, or, commit yourself to the hands of Lord Erestor. Before you answer, I want you to consider this carefully. If you choose to serve your duty to Lord Erestor, I expect you to obey him as you would me. I will not accept anything else from you.” 

Galathil shifted uncomfortably. “In what capacity would I serve Lord Erestor, Ada?” he asked.

Thranduil smiled gently. “In any capacity he requests of you.”

The Prince’s eyes widened slightly as he remembered Erestor’s words to him at dinner. “You mean…”

His father shrugged gracefully. “That is always a possibility, Iôn. He may simply ask for you to bring him tea and his slippers. I do not know for certain. However, I do know that you will learn from him. As I did, when I was not much older than you.”

“What will I learn, Ada?” Galathil asked quietly, his brow furrowed.

Thranduil placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Patience, respect, and humility. Lord Erestor excels as a teacher in these. You could learn from no better.”  

Galathil considered his father’s words carefully. Lord Erestor was interesting, for certain. The dark-haired elf seemed to smolder with the same raw sensuality that he had seen his father display from time to time.  He remembered the feel of Erestor’s hand on his knee, and the warm touch of his breath against his ear when he whispered to him. It had not been altogether unpleasant. If Lord Erestor was looking for a companion in the bedroom, Galathil supposed he could do worse than serve in that capacity. At least he would not expect him to match wits with innuendo. 

Finally, Galathil nodded. “I choose to serve Lord Erestor, Ada, if that is acceptable.”

Thranduil smiled. “Yes, Iôn. That is acceptable. Now, go. Lord Erestor is waiting for you by the hearth in the dining room, unless I am mistaken.”

Galathil eyed his father in surprise. “You told him?”

A soft chuckle escaped the King and he embraced Galathil lightly. “Of course, Iôn. I was pretty certain what you would decide.”

He frowned, uncertain that he liked being so predictable. He was still frowning when he left his father’s study to find Erestor.

< > < >  < >

Legolas glanced back at his companions and smirked. They were walking through one of the rare places in his father’s hall that had windows – the indoor garden, and the twins had their heads together. From the looks on their faces, they were obviously planning something. They glided up beside him, one on his left, the other on his right, and smiled mischievously at him. 

Elrohir reached for him, wrapping his arms securely around Legolas’ waist as Elladan stepped closer, his hands sliding over Legolas’ shoulders.

“We were interrupted earlier,” Elladan said.

“We did not get to finish what we started,” Elrohir continued.

“We would very much like to continue that now,” they stated in unison.

Legolas smiled demurely and answered, “Well I know of just the place to do so…  follow me.”  He slipped from the Peredhils’ grasp and glided down the hall.

Chapter 4

Thranduil sent for his page and instructed him to summon Elladan and Elrohir to his chambers shortly after his son left to meet with Erestor.  He intended to see first hand what these two were about before letting them be alone with his beloved Greenleaf.  He had suspicions about the true nature of the twins’ relationship, and he knew they would be unable to hide it from him once he had them to himself.  

He had known even before Galadriel sent them that a match would not be made between his sons and those of Elrond.  While Elladan and Elrohir were indeed beautiful and intelligent, if not a bit precocious, Legolas had made his intentions clear early on, and Galathil was not yet ready to bond with anyone, let alone one as challenging as Elladan or Elrohir.

His eldest son had many lessons to learn before he could assume such a role, and the Chief Counselor of Imladris was just the one to teach him to him.  Thranduil closed his eyes, remembering his own lessons learned at Erestor’s knee, how proud he had once been, how arrogant, and how quickly and concisely Erestor worked that out of him.  He owed the Noldo much; he would not be the ruler he was, the soldier he had been during the trying times of the Last Alliance, without the discipline and respect he learned through Erestor’s tutelage.

No match would be made this trip, though the twins would serve his purposes nonetheless.

< > < > < >

Legolas paused at the door to Elladan’s room and smiled, opening it and motioning to them to enter ahead of him.  Elrohir crossed through first, followed by his elder twin, his heart beginning to increase its tempo in anticipation of delights to come.  Elladan cast a predatory glance Legolas’ way as he walked through the doorway and the Sinda Prince just smiled sweetly.  He knew what awaited the cocky sons of Elrond.  

Right on cue, his father’s page arrived, announcing to the twins that the King requested their presence in his chambers.  Legolas feigned disappointment and whispered to them as they crossed back through, “I will wait here for you, my friends.”

Elladan and Elrohir grumbled under their breath as they followed the page to the King’s chambers.  Silently Elrohir reached out to his brother, **What do you think he wants?**

Elladan responded without words, **I imagine he wishes to insure that we treat his youngest with respect.**

Elrohir snorted, causing the page to cast a glance over his shoulder as he continued leading them down the corridor.

**Careful, muindor,** Elladan chided silently, **Thranduil is not one to be trifled with.**

They arrived at the door to the King’s chambers and the page knocked, Thranduil’s deep voice granting entrance to his visitors.

Elladan and Elrohir crossed the threshold to Thranduil’s quarters and smiled politely, bowing their heads and covering their hearts with their hands.  “My Lord,” they greeted him in unison, “you wished to speak with us?”

“That I did,” Thranduil replied smoothly, “please, sit.”

The door latched shut behind them.

Elladan and Elrohir took seats opposite the King by the fire and folded their hands in their laps, looking expectantly into his eyes.  

Not more than a heartbeat in time passed before Elladan sensed it, those sapphire eyes held more than polite interest, they were probing, questing, for an answer; an answer the King suspected he already had.  Against his will, his skin flushed beneath that powerful, seductive gaze and he felt his breathing grow shallow, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Elrohir sensed it soon after, and his twin’s reaction to it frightened him.  He struggled to regain Elladan’s attention, silently calling to him, but finding his calls unheeded.  

“I see no reason for pretense,” the King began slowly, “I will tell you the reason you are here.”  He felt the panic growing in Elrohir’s psyche and he shifted his gaze to the younger twin.  “It appears my son and I share a common bond with the two of you.”

Elladan swallowed and croaked out a reply, “I am sure we do not know what you mean, my Lord.”

“No?” Thranduil asked without looking at him.  “I believe your brother does…”

All color drained from Elrohir’s face as Thranduil leveled his gaze upon him.  He felt the King’s thoughts like fingers, seductively caressing his mind, entreating him to divulge what he already believed he knew.  He opened his mouth to speak, but it was as dry as stone, his tongue felt thick like cotton batting, and he could hear his own breath rasping in his throat.  **Oh no…** his panicked mind began to spin, **he knows, he knows about us…** He could not hear Elladan’s thoughts beseeching him to be quiet to say nothing.  He took a ragged breath and began, “My Lord, please, you can not tell anyone what you know… it would be the end of us, I cannot live…”

Thranduil held up his hand and calmly answered, “Silence, Elrohir.”

Elrohir fell to his knees at Thranduil’s feet, begging, “Please, my Lord.  I will do anything you ask, anything, just do not tell our father, do not tell anyone.”

The sight of the young Peredhil at his feet begging for his mercy touched his heart, and he reached down and caressed Elrohir’s hair softly.  “Ssssh, pen-neth,” he said quietly, “fear me not.”

The King’s touch upon his head lulled him into a peaceful silence and he rested his head upon Thranduil’s knee, still not hearing his twin’s pleading voice in his mind.

Thranduil shifted his gaze to Elladan who glared back at him with a mixture of anger and confusion.  "So, it appears I was correct about what I saw at dinner,” he said quietly.  “I can see by the way you look at me that you believe that I will use this information against you.”

Elladan practically growled, “You already are, as you have somehow removed my brother from my grasp.  What devilry is this, my Lord?  What craft do you use to weave this spell?”

Thranduil smiled and Elladan felt his heart skip again.  “I assure you, I weave no spell, my dear Peredhil.  I merely gave Elrohir the opportunity to do what he needed to do, unburden his heart to me.”  He gazed deep into Elladan’s eyes.  “I believe we can help each other, Elladan, if you so desire.”

Elladan struggled to resist that seductive gaze, but found his attention wandering over the King’s fine form.  He reclined in his chair, one ringed hand caressing Elrohir’s hair, the other resting upon the arm of the chair.  His unbound, flaxen mane spilled over his shoulders, and the thin velvet robe he wore clung to every curve as if it were a second skin.  The longer he looked at him, the harder it was to resist the Sinda’s pull upon his more animal instincts.  That voice, so deep, so melodious, so sensual, began to slowly hypnotize him, and he began to let go of his anger, of the defenses he had so carefully put into place so long ago.

Thranduil smiled and continued.  “The relationship the two of you share is a special, if not complicated one, and there are many who would not understand it.  I, however, do, as does Legolas.  You see, while the two of you are special, you are not entirely unique.”

Elrohir lifted his head and gazed with wide pewter eyes into the King’s face.  “You mean… Legolas and Galathil?” he asked with the innocence of an elfling.

Thranduil smiled down at him and laughed softly.  “No, not Galathil, pen-neth.  My eldest is more traditional than that.  I speak of Legolas and myself.”  He shifted his gaze back to Elladan, his hand never missing a stroke upon Elrohir’s hair.  “I love my son, more than anything upon this earth.  And not so long ago, I realized what a special gift he is to me, how fortunate I am to have the love of one so pure and kind.  But laws of our kind dictate I cannot be the one to bring him into adulthood, he must come to me as a mature elf, knowledgeable in the ways of the heart and the flesh.  This is where the two of you may be of help.”

Elladan smiled wryly and answered, “You want us to deflower him for you.”

Thranduil smiled in return.  “Wise as well as beautiful.  Yes, I want you to make my son an adult.”

Elladan sat back in his chair and quietly answered, “We could have done that already had you not interrupted us, my Lord.”

Thranduil laughed softly.  “I suppose so.  However, before I give you so precious a gift, I must know you are worthy of it.”

Elladan felt a faint throbbing in his loins as the King spoke; he knew where this was going.  “So, you intend to sample us.  Is that it?”

Thranduil laughed again, this time heartily.  “You are not a crop of spring berries, though, I imagine you taste as sweet.  I do not intend to sample you, I intend to see that you possess the proper knowledge and skill that befits one who pleasures my son.”  His lips turned up in a smile as he glanced down at Elrohir, who still rested comfortably at his feet.  “You see,” he continued, “Legolas is more than a mere archer from Lórien, he is a Prince, from an ancient and noble line.  He will require special treatment.”

Elladan’s eyes widened as he watched Thranduil pick thoughts from his twin’s brain like trinkets from a box.  **How does he do that?** he wondered.

“It is quite simple really,” the King answered, discerning the elder twin’s thoughts.  “I make him feel safe, which he is, I show him kindness and affection, and then all I have to do is ask.”  He laughed softly.  “Elladan, there are precious few who can hide what is in their mind from me, the Lady of Light being one of them.  I have known, or at least strongly suspected, what was between you and your brother since you have arrived.  I also know what is in my son’s mind at this moment, as he reclines upon Elrohir’s bed, waiting for him.”

“Elrohir?”  Elladan asked with no small amount of confusion.  “But I thought…”

Thranduil smiled as a parent smiles at a confused child.  “You thought he would have you first.  But it was Elrohir’s gentle touch and alluring smile that won his heart.  His first time will be sweetness and gentle caresses, whispered words of affection and passionate kisses.  Those things are not your forte, Elladan.  You are like a wolf, single-minded, determined, predatory.  No, those qualities are better suited for one more like yourself I think.”

The King looked down at Elrohir and called to him softly, “It is time now, pen-neth…”

Elrohir looked up at him and slowly rose to his feet as Thranduil stood before him.  “What shall I do, my Lord?” he asked quietly.

Thranduil caressed his face and whispered, “Kiss me as you intend to kiss my son.”

Elrohir rose to the balls of his feet and placed the softest, most gentle of kisses upon the King’s lips.  He moaned quietly as Thranduil’s hands slid around his back, one hand travelling up into his hair and the other down to caress his buttocks.  He arched his back and opened his mouth to the King’s questing tongue, whimpering at the sheer passion and gentleness of it.  

When Thranduil released him he murmured against his lips, “You know what to do now.  Go to my son, make love to him with the reverence he deserves.”

Elrohir nodded and smiled.  “I will, my Lord.”  He turned and left the King’s chamber without so much as a look at his elder twin.  

Elladan sat in the chair caught between wanting to run after Elrohir and being utterly helpless to do so.  He looked up at Thranduil who stood before him, his hand outstretched, and he felt as if he were floating as he rose from the chair, crossing the room to him and falling into his embrace.

Thranduil caressed Elladan’s face with the back of one hand.  “Now for you, draug nín.  For you, I have something very different in mind.”  He led Elladan from his sitting room into his bedchamber.

< > < > < >

Elrohir walked through the corridors as if in a trance.  He opened the door to his bedchamber and crossed the threshold closing the door behind him.  His eyes immediately found the bed and the treasure that reclined upon it.  Legolas was draped across the rich velvet coverlets wearing nothing but a deep green loincloth.  The light of the fire that warmed the room danced across his ivory skin, causing it to glow as if lit from within.  He paused and took in the vision before him, thinking he had seen few so beautiful. 

“I have been waiting for you, Elrohir,” his honeyed voice crooned.  “I hope my father did not unnerve you too much.”

Elrohir crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out and caressing one long, elegantly curved thigh.  “By Elbereth,” he whispered.  “You are beautiful, Legolas.”

Legolas smiled gently and sat forward, reaching out and enfolding Elrohir in his long arms.  “Make love to me, Elrohir.  Show me what it means to know love and pleasure.”

Elrohir pressed his lips against Legolas’ and moaned quietly into the kiss.  His pulse quickened as the Prince’s long fingers slowly unfastened his tunic and reached inside, exploring his soft warm flesh hungrily.

Elrohir delved deeper into Legolas’ mouth as he leaned into him, his hands caressing every curve and plane of the Prince’s lithe form.  He shivered as his tunic fell away and Legolas touched him oh so softly, hands and fingers memorizing his back, arms, shoulders and chest. Fingers danced across his heated flesh, and he moaned again, his body was afire, immersed in the smell and taste of Legolas.

His hand drifted down Legolas’ abdomen, softly ghosting over his rising arousal.

Legolas broke from their kiss and leaned his head back, breathlessly whispering, “Ai, yes…”

Elrohir smiled against Legolas’ neck and felt the string to his own leggings come loose.  He groaned as long archer’s fingers reached inside and found his heated length.  “Aniron lle, bain nín.”

“Take me, Elrohir.  Show me, I want to know everything.” Legolas whispered breathlessly.

Elrohir gently guided Legolas to his back and grasped the strings holding his loincloth.  He gently tugged it down over the Prince’s hips, his eyes hungrily taking in the beautiful sight before him.

He rose from the bed just long enough to quickly step out of his leggings, and then he lowered himself to Legolas, pressing the length of his body against the Prince’s lithe frame.  

In a lavish room on the other side of the caves, Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling all that Legolas felt, each touch, each kiss, and he smiled.  His son had indeed chosen well.

< > < > < >

Thranduil circled Elladan like a predatory cat, imagining all the ways he could bring this wild one to heal.  “So, pen rhovan, it is just you and me now.  Two predators, willful, strong, hungry.”  He reached out and drew his finger down Elladan’s spine, smiling as the Peredhil arched away from it.  “Who will be the master and who will be the slave, I wonder?” he crooned.

Elladan struggled with all his might not to fall to the King’s seductive advances, but each touch, each word, made it harder to resist.  “I do not fear you,” he said defiantly.

Thranduil laughed softly.  “Indeed?  Well, I would not have you fear me, pen rhovan.  But you will respect me, and you will obey me.”

“I obey no one but my father.” Elladan responded with a clenched jaw.

Thranduil stopped behind him and pulled his hair away from his back, laying it over his shoulder.  His hands roamed the Peredhil’s tense body as his lips caressed his ear.  “You WILL obey ME, I promise you.”  He drew his tongue along the curve of Elladan’s ear and felt the tremor that wracked his lithe frame.  “You have had your way for far too long, pen rhovan.  You have grown far too accustomed to taking what you want; using your wiles against those who are helpless to resist, like young Rúmil…”

“How…” Elladan began, then he knew how; Thranduil could see into his mind and read it like a book.

“I am no young virgin, Elladan.  I know things you have not dreamed of yet, have done things you cannot even imagine.  My body is no pliable willow that will bend to your will.  I am as unyielding as the mountains, and as hot as the fires beneath them.  I will burn you, pen rhovan, and I will teach you what you have been afraid to know.”

Each touch drove him onward, he was trembling with a mixture of fear and need, fighting to resist the temptation to turn in the King’s arms and yield to him utterly.

“Let go of your pride, Elladan.  It serves you not.  You will never know yourself until you have been stripped of it.  Do not make me take it from you, Elladan, I do not wish to do that.”

Elladan groaned as Thranduil’s palm slid over the rising bulge in his leggings and he arched slightly into his touch.  He cried out against his will, “Ai!”

“Yield to me, Elladan.  I will not harm you, I will only give you pleasure.” Thranduil slowly caressed Elladan’s arousal with his palm, delving further between his legs with each stroke, until he found the taut pouch that lay beneath his arousal and rolled it against his hand.

Elladan whimpered as his knees buckled and he felt Thranduil catch him with his strong arm.  The King manipulated him with increased vigor and he felt the telltale signs of his release building faster.  “Saes, hîr nín,” he pleaded.

“Come for me, bain nín.  Do it now…” Thranduil commanded.

Elladan whimpered and shook his head vigorously.  “No,” he croaked.  “Not like this, not like I were…” He cried out as his release soaked his leggings and shudders wracked his lithe frame.  It had been years since he remembered being so undone by so simple an action.  His eyes closed as he trembled, sinking into the King’s arms.

< > < > < >

Legolas arched his back and gasped as Elrohir’s lips caressed his heated length.  He wadded the bedcovers in his fists as he pleaded breathlessly with his lover.

Elrohir smiled as he leisurely caressed Legolas’ quivering shaft with his tongue, occasionally drifting to the tip to lap up the opalescent seed that leaked from the small opening.  “Patience, bain nín,” he whispered.  “You want me to teach you well, do you not?”

Legolas swallowed and nodded.  “Yes, I do.”

Elrohir looked up at the Prince and smiled.  “Then trust me, we have hours yet to explore one another.”

Legolas craned his neck and looked down at Elrohir.  “All right, I will try,” he answered softly.

Elrohir returned his attention to his lover’s length and responded, “Everything about you is beautiful, even this…” he pursed his lips and sucked upon the tip of Legolas’ length.

“Ai!  By the Valar!” Legolas groaned as he flopped back to the bed with a soft thud.

Elrohir chuckled softly, his breath fluttering along the length of swollen flesh, then smiled.  “Alright, rwalaer.  I will take pity on you, but this will be the last time…” He opened his mouth and took the Prince’s length in.

A string of garbled Sindarin escaped Legolas’ lips as Elrohir consumed him.  He struggled to thrust into the wet and warm heaven of his lover’s mouth, but Elrohir held his hips down to the bed.  He hooked one leg over Elrohir’s back, panting heavily as sensations he had only previously imagined flooded his young body.  Finally, Elrohir released his hips and he thrust deep into his mouth, moaning with abandon.  He felt the pads of Elrohir’s fingers circle his entrance and he cried out, spilling down his lover’s throat.

He collapsed upon the bed, heaving a ragged sigh of bliss, shivering with delight as Elrohir gently cleaned him with his tongue.  “Oh my…” he whispered.  “That was…”

“Incredible?  Amazing?  Fantastic?” Elrohir teased.

Legolas nodded vigorously.  “Yes…” he waived his hand, “that is it, what you just said…”

Elrohir laughed heartily and slid up Legolas’ body, gathering his limp form in his arms.  “Rest now, melethron.  There will be more instruction later.”

Legolas felt Elrohir’s arousal press against his thigh.  “But you…” he began.

Elrohir pressed his fingers to Legolas’ lips.  “Sssh… Legolas.  Rest now, I can wait.”

Legolas purred in contentment as he curled against Elrohir and drifted into reverie.

< > < > < >

When Elladan next opened his eyes, he lay upon Thranduil’s bed, his garments removed.  He stretched like a great cat, groaning and blinking sleepily before resting his gaze upon the King.

Thranduil leaned against a post at the foot of the bed, his ankles crossed, and his robe open to the waist.  “Sleep well, pen rhovan?” he asked softly.

Elladan withdrew a little toward the head of the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest.  “How long have I been asleep?” he asked quietly.

“A short while,” Thranduil responded.  “That was… traumatic for you, was it not?” he asked quietly.

Elladan wrapped his arms around his knees and nodded slightly.

“I am sorry, mellonamin.  But I had to make you let go.  You would not see it any other way.”  He sat forward and reached for Elladan’s leg, pulling back as he saw him grow tense.  “You have never had this experience, have you?  You have always been the one in control?”

Elladan nodded slowly, blinking back tears that stung his eyes.  “How long will you keep us apart?” he asked, his voice sounding like an elfling to his own ears.

Thranduil sighed and looked at the bed.  “Until his task is done.  He cannot give my son what he truly needs if you are there with him.  I am sorry, Elladan, but Legolas’ happiness is my main concern.”

“You mean your only concern,” Elladan answered with bitterness.

“Nay, that is not true, pen rhovan,” Thranduil answered.  “Do you really want to see what happens between them?  Do you want to know what Elrohir feels as he makes love to my son?”

Elladan pondered the question for a moment, and realized that he did not want to know what Elrohir was like without him.  “No,” he said flatly.  He took a deep breath and looked into Thranduil’s eyes.  “But why does he not feel what I do?  Why is he so…”

“Happy?” Thranduil finished the question for him.

A tear traced down Elladan’s cheek and he dropped his forehead to his folded arms.  “Oh… what have I done?” his voice was thick with sorrow.  “What have I done to him?”

Thranduil moved to sit next to Elladan and took his resistant body in his arms.  “He has no guilt to bear, Elladan; that is why he is happy right now and you are not.  You struggle under the weight of this guilt everyday.  Elrohir has no guilt; you made sure of that when you did what you did.  You left him no choice, you took from him, thereby leaving him blameless.”  He stroked Elladan’s hair.  “But what you have done, Elladan, is give him the greatest love he will ever know in his long life.  You have given him a precious gift.  Do not let the archaic teachings of your elders rule your heart.  You know where it belongs, follow it.”

Elladan wiped his eyes and looked up at Thranduil.  “How can I be happy when I always have to guard against those who would tear us apart?”

Thranduil smiled and answered, “I do believe I can help you with that, bain nín.  But in order for me to help you, you must trust me.”

Elladan sighed and looked at a vacant spot on the wall across the room.  He slowly turned his gaze back to Thranduil and whispered, “I will try.”

Thranduil gently took Elladan’s face in his hands and whispered, “Just relax, pen rhovan, let me guide you, yield yourself to me.”

Elladan slowly felt himself fall under the King’s seductive spell and he closed his eyes as he felt Thranduil’s silken lips touch his own.

He was sliding down the head of the bed, covered by Thranduil’s body, the King’s silk robe caressing his skin with maddening heat.  He opened his mouth to Thranduil’s questing tongue, moaning wantonly into the deepest kiss he had ever experienced.  He lifted one leg and wrapped it around the Sinda, running his hands into Thranduil’s hair and undulating beneath his weight.

Thranduil moaned softly, Elladan’s kiss was more delectable than he had imagined.  The Peredhil tasted and felt so good, and it had been several months since he had a lover in his bed.  He felt the slow burn of desire light inside him and he pressed Elladan further into the bed, consuming his mouth with heated intensity. 

He slowly worked his way down Elladan’s smooth chest, working each nipple until his lover cried out.  He delved into Elladan’s navel with his tongue, chasing it as it flinched away and a gasp issued from the Perehil’s trembling form.  He moved lower, savoring the musky scent and flavor of his new lover, his lips brushing through the hair that grew around his arousal before concentrating on his heated length.

Elladan arched and moaned wantonly, his hands flying up to grasp the headboard as Thranduil took him into his mouth.  The King wasted no time, immediately taking him into the back of his throat and swallowing him whole.  “By Elbereth!” he groaned, his release building faster with each stroke of the King’s talented tongue.  He cried out as he reached climax, spilling down his lover’s throat.

Thranduil swallowed him hungrily, lapping up every precious drop of his essence.  He then continued lower, lapping at the taut pouch of skin below Elladan’s arousal and smiling at the whimpering cry that issued from his ripe lips.  He then leisurely continued further back, his tongue flicking against the Peredhil’s entrance.

Elladan groaned and spread his legs wantonly as Thranduil’s tongue teased his entrance.  “Yes… oh please, yes…” he begged, his own voice sounding as foreign to him as anything in his life.

Thranduil thrust his tongue inside Elladan’s trembling body, gripping his hips in his strong hands as Elladan cried out in pleasure.  He retreated from the inviting body of his lover just long enough to remove his robe, revealing his strong body to Elladan’s hungry eyes.  He leaned over and retrieved a vial of oil he kept by the bed.  He worked the oil into his length and fingers with long, slow strokes, gazing into Elladan’s dark eyes as he went about his task.

“I am going to bury myself in you, Elladan,” Thranduil crooned seductively, “as you once did to the one you love so long ago.  Yield to me as Elrohir yielded to you.  I promise you, you will not regret it.”

Elladan nodded, lust now overriding his mind.  He lifted his hips and spread his legs, gripping the headboard until his knuckles were white.  It had been so long since he had allowed anyone to do this to him, even Elrohir.  He groaned then cried out as Thranduil pushed inside his body, feeling impossibly full, stretched beyond what he thought he could bear.  He wondered how many times Elrohir had felt this way, feeling as he did now when Thranduil sheathed himself inside him.

“Ssshh… relax melethron,” Thranduil whispered.  “I can feel it has been quite sometime since you last experienced this… just relax and yield to me, pen rhovan.”

Elladan took deep breaths, blinking back tears that threatened to fall, slowly relaxing into Thranduil’s soothing caresses upon his face and chest.  He slowly began to move against his lover, guiding him to the spot that would cause him to fall with abandon.

Thranduil flexed his hips and found his mark, sending tremors through Elladan’s lithe body as his lover cried out in ecstasy.  He thrust forward and pulled back, each time finding his target with increased accuracy, watching Elladan lose himself in pleasure.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, “So utterly undone.  You are a treasure, pen rhovan.”  

His lover’s tight body squeezed him mercilessly and he grasped Elladan’s reawakened arousal with his hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts.  He groaned as Elladan found his release and spilled over his hand, his lover’s body constricting around him, milking his own climax from him.  He dropped his head and moaned into his lover’s ear as he released himself inside Elladan’s body.

He lingered atop his young lover for a while, savoring his warmth and contented sighs.  He then slowly slid from Elladan’s body, feeling him to shiver at the loss.  He rose from the bed, retrieving a warm cloth and cleaning Elladan first, then himself, before returning to the bed and gathering the Peredhil in his arms and pulling the covers around them.  

Elladan curled against him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his arms as he sighed.  Thranduil stroked his hair and sung softly to him as the Peredhil drifted into reverie.

< > < > < >

Legolas awoke on his stomach with Elrohir on top of him.  He smiled and wiggled beneath the warm press of his lover’s body.  “Mmm… how long have I been asleep?” he questioned softly.

“Not too long,” Elrohir cooed in his ear.  “But I could not wait any longer.”

Legolas laughed softly and purred in return, “What is next, my teacher?”

Elrohir teasingly slid his arousal between his lover’s buttocks.  “Well, we still have a few lessons.”

Legolas gasped quietly and arched against him.  “I am yours to instruct…” he whispered seductively.

Elroihr slid his hand between their bodies, his fingers gently seeking his lover’s entrance.  “This next lesson will be a bit painful I am afraid.  But I will be careful and go slowly as to lessen the discomfort you will feel.”

Legolas moaned and nodded.  “Yes, Ada told me it would be.  I do not fear pain.”

Elrohir brushed his lips along the curve of Legolas’ ear.  “Alright then, just relax, brave one.”  He rose and retrieved a vial of oil from his pack, glancing at Legolas and smiling.  He returned to the bed and propped his lover’s hips up with thick pillows.  He reached down and stroked the Prince’s long back and whispered.  “There, now.  Are you comfortable, melethron?”

Legolas moaned contentedly and nodded.  “Yes…”

He uncapped the vial and poured a generous amount into his palm and set the vial aside, then worked the viscous fluid into his rigid length.  He watched Legolas eye color change from bright sapphire to deep midnight as he went about his task, and saw his lover’s hips shift upon the bed, a telltale sign that the Prince’s desire had reawakened.

“All right, melethron nín,” he whispered.  “Just a finger at first. Try to relax.”

Legolas nodded and gasped quietly as Elrohir’s oiled finger circled his virgin entrance.  He bit back a whimper as his tutor’s finger slowly entered him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle that endeavored to keep him out.  He took deep breaths, willing his body to relax and accept the intrusion.

“There, now, that is better,” Elrohir purred, his free hand caressing Legolas’ lower back as his lips ghosted over the rounded globes of his buttocks.

Legolas moaned quietly and nodded, the burning was still there, but had lessened greatly, and he was able to concentrate on all the pleasurable sensations that flooded his body.  Suddenly an explosion went off inside his body and he felt his arousal twitch beneath his weight.  He cried out in ecstasy and surprise as Elrohir growled in delight.

“There now, is that not worth it?” Elrohir asked softly.

“Ai, yes!” Legolas exclaimed breathlessly.  “Again…” came his breathless request.

Elrohir repeated his action and smiled as Legolas bucked back against his hand.  After careful and judicious preparation, Elrohir crooned, “Alright, meleth, time for a little more…”

Legolas felt a second finger added, stretching him and opening him further and he moaned louder this time, as he tensed against it.  He quickly forgot about the burning as Elrohir found that wicked place inside him that caused him to abandon reason entirely.  He moaned wantonly and undulated beneath Elrohir’s touch as he pleaded for more.

“Ssshh, bain nín,” Elrohir purred, “just relax and breathe.”  He dropped kisses to Legolas back and shoulders and felt the Prince begin to relax to his touch.  It felt like an eternity before he added the third finger, slowly rotating and twisting, opening his lover’s body.  After long and careful preparation, he withdrew his fingers and guided Legolas’ hips off the bed.  He removed the pillows and instructed him to draw his knees up close to his chest.  He placed his now throbbing arousal against his lover’s entrance, and whispered, “I want you to breathe, Legolas, and try not to fight me, understood?”

“Yes,” came Legolas’ urgent reply.

He slowly, and with extreme care, pushed his oiled member inside the Prince’s trembling body.  Inch by delicious inch, he sheathed himself inside tight, luxurious velvet heat he had not felt the likes of before in his lifetime.  He was unable to silence the feral growl that issued from deep within him and gripped Legolas’ hips to steady himself.

He drew a ragged breath and whispered, “Are you all right, Legolas?”

Legolas whimpered as he struggled for breath, he nodded and croaked, “Yes, but it burns…”

Elrohir stroked his back and hips and lovingly whispered to him, “I know, meleth, I know exactly what you mean.”  

Visions of that night so long ago by the pond came back to him in a flash, Elladan hovering over him, his twin’s rigid length buried within him.  He had not been prepared with such care, though Elladan had done his best. But being young, they did not know what they knew now.  He still remembered all too well how painful it could be.  

He waited, so very patiently, whispering words of gentle encouragement, his hands lovingly caressing his lover’s back and hips.  Finally, Legolas began to moan and move against him, his lover seeking that contact that set his whole body afire.  Elrohir smiled and groaned when he began to move, rippling heat pulsating along his length, slowly but surely dragging him over the edge into the abyss of ecstasy.  He found his mark again and cried out in unison with Legolas, the Prince’s sudden bucking motion nearly sending him over the edge.  He moved a little faster, angling for that spot that sent fire roaring through both their veins and finding it again and again.  He reached around and took his lover’s arousal in his hand, already slick with the beginnings of his release.  He stroked it in time with his thrusts, not wanting it to end, but knowing it must.  First times are not meant to last, he told himself, young untried bodies cannot bear the strain.  He threw his head back and growled as he and Legolas found their release together, the Prince’s young body squeezing him mercilessly.  His trembling hands caressed the silken skin that lay beneath them as the warm afterglow of spent desire washed over them both.

Slowly, he withdrew from Legolas, placing a soft kiss upon his back as his lover whimpered at the loss of him.  He felt the loss too, the loss of comforting heat he had never felt before and feared he would never feel again.  As he collapsed upon the bed and gathered Legolas into his arms, he realized what a gift the young Prince was to him, how what they shared forever changed who he was.

“Hannon lle, Elrohir…” Legolas whispered sleepily.

“’Twas my pleasure, mir nín,” he answered, and closed his eyes, drifting into reverie.

< > < > < >

Chapter 5

Galathil left his father’s study and returned to the dining room. Though he had agreed to what he was about to do, he could not help but feel slightly apprehensive about it.  He had certainly had his share of lovers since reaching his majority, but he had never willingly given himself to another. He was fairly certain what serving Erestor would entail, and while he did not find the idea repugnant – Erestor was quite fair – he was not entirely too sure about the reality of actually yielding his body in such a manner. 

Something about the Noldo made him suspect that he would do the yielding, not the other way around.

He hesitated at the door to the dining room and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever might lie ahead. He had given his father his word, and he meant to keep it.

Galathil pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He saw Lord Erestor, standing with his back to him, studying the elaborate tapestry that hung beside the fireplace. Silent footsteps took him to where the elf Lord stood and he stopped.

“Lord Erestor?”

The dark haired elf finally turned and looked at him. His eyes were so dark they appeared almost black and they were completely unreadable. Erestor’s gaze raked him from head to toe, before finally spoke. 

“Come with me, if you please.”

“Where are we going?” Galathil asked immediately.

Erestor gave him a look that made him wish he had not asked. “To my rooms. There are things we must speak of, and I do not wish to have our conversation overheard by the servants.” He gave Galathil a knowing look. “Neither, I think, would you.”

Galathil nodded, and followed the elf Lord out of the dining room.

Erestor’s apartments were lush, as were most of the guest rooms in his father’s home. Fine rugs and tapestries covered the walls and floors, and a large fireplace dominated the room. He took the seat in the finely carved chair that Erestor gestured to, and watched the elf Lord settle himself in the one across from him.  Fine boned hands folded themselves neatly on Erestor’s lap, and Galathil noted that his fingers were long and slender. 

“Do you know why you are here, Prince?” Erestor asked.

“My father told me I was to have the choice of serving the Peredhil or serving you,” Galathil replied, wondering why Erestor was asking him this. “I chose to serve you.”

A dark eyebrow rose for a moment. “Why?”

Galathil shifted in his chair, suddenly unsure of how he should answer the question without offending Lord Erestor. “It seemed that Elrohir and Elladan were more interested in my brother than myself. I admit that I found it difficult to match wits with them.”

The other eyebrow rose to match the first. “You believe you can match wits with me, pen-neth?”

“You do not seem to be an elf who bandies words or wastes his time in such a fashion, Lord,” Galathil replied. “Though I do not know you.”

Erestor nodded and a faint smile curved his lips. “You certainly do not. Very well, do you know what it is I expect of you?”

Galathil shook his head. “Truthfully, I am uncertain what it is you would ask of me. I only know that I am to obey you as I would my father.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Erestor clasped the armrests with his hands and held Galathil with his gaze. “Do you know what it is that your father wishes you to learn from me?”

Galathil nodded again, licking his lips nervously. “I am to learn patience, respect, and humility.”

“The last will be your hardest, I think,” Erestor mused. “For you are sorely lacking that quality, from what I have seen. You did not choose to serve me because your brother already held the attention and affections of Elladan and Elrohir. You did not choose to serve me because you could not banter with them, as they are used to.”  His dark eyes narrowed slightly and he pinned Galathil with his shrewd gaze. “You chose me because you could not bear the thought of yielding in any fashion to someone you thought beneath you.”  He sat back in his chair and folded his hands once more. “Am I right?” he asked softly.

He could only nod. He was no more able to deceive this elf Lord than he was his own father.

Erestor smiled. “Very well, Prince. I will teach you as your father was taught. Do you agree to be my pupil?”

Galathil licked his lips again. “I do.”

“Then let us begin.”  He rose gracefully from his chair and gestured that Galathil do the same. “Go, stand there by the fire and wait.”

Nervously, Galathil did as he was bid, watching as Erestor undid the clasps that held his robes and slid it from his shoulders. Galathil took the opportunity to study his tutor more closely, and could not help but admire what he saw. Erestor was slender, with a broad chest that tapered into a narrow waist. His long, raven hair gleamed in the firelight, moving like a curtain of ebony silk against his fair skin. Though Erestor was a scholar, his lean body still held the muscles of a warrior, and he moved with a dancer’s grace. Finally, clad in a simple white under tunic and black leggings, Erestor turned around and moved to where Galathil waited. 

“Legs a little further apart, if you please,” Erestor commanded, his voice mild as honey. He nodded in approval when Galathil complied, and began to circle him slowly. Feeling like a horse being examined by a potential buyer, Galathil flushed, but resisted the urge to turn his head and follow Erestor’s progress.

“You are very handsome, Prince,” Erestor commented. “It would surprise me greatly to discover you were untried. Tell me, have you had many lovers?”

“A few, my Lord,” Galathil admitted. 

“Female only, or have you discovered the delights that male flesh can hold?” Erestor asked, running his fingers lightly over Galathil’s spine.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the line of questioning, though he quivered in response to the touch of Erestor’s fingers. “Both, my Lord, though mostly female.”

“Is that because you prefer female company? Or for some other reason?” Erestor asked, his fingers traveling upward to brush the length of Galathil’s hair forward, exposing the back of his neck.

Galathil swallowed when Erestor’s hand closed on the back of his neck, shocked at the suddenness of it, and the way his body responded. He shuddered, his mouth unaccountably dry as he struggled to answer the question. “No, my Lord. I find pleasure equally in both.”

“Hmm,” Erestor replied thoughtfully. He left his hand where it was, and turned Galathil so that he was facing him. “Though you are no stranger to passion with males, I suspect that you are untouched in certain regards. Am I right?”  He tilted his head slightly and smiled at Galathil’s stunned expression. “There is no shame in admitting that. You are young, and a Prince. It does not surprise me that in your experiences you never allowed one of your lovers to take you as you took them.”  His grip on Galathil’s neck loosened and his fingers trailed over the bare skin caressingly.  

It was unnerving for a simple caress to have such an affect on him. Never had his body reacted so strongly and so quickly to another’s touch; it seemed the Noldo had magic in his fingertips. The hand left its place on his neck to slide across his cheek, cupping it gently.

“The lesson begins now, Prince,” Erestor said quietly. “The first is a lesson in patience. Are you prepared?”

Galathil managed to nod. 

The dark haired elf smiled and released him, taking his seat once more. Folding his hands, he looked expectantly up at Galathil. “Disrobe, please.”

With fumbling fingers, he managed to find the clasps that held his tunic and undo them. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and excitement as he slid the tunic from his shoulders, baring his skin to Erestor’s gaze. He did not look at the elf as he removed his boots and placed them carefully beside the chair he had recently vacated. He reached for the laces of his leggings and hesitated, glancing up at Erestor.  

“You have a question, pen-neth?” Erestor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why am I disrobing?”

“Because that is what I asked of you, and that is all you need to know,” Erestor answered easily. “Whether you chose to concede to my request is entirely up to you. If you chose not to comply, then I will send you to your rooms and tell your father you have changed your mind. It is as simple as that.” His honeyed voice never altered in its mildness; he could have been speaking about the weather, for all the emotion he displayed. “However, if you wish to continue in this lesson, then I suggest you finish disrobing, and cease your questioning. My answer will always be the same.”

Galathil nodded and bent his head, his fingers already working the lacings on his leggings. His mind whirled with a myriad of emotions: fear, excitement, nervousness, arousal, curiosity and anticipation. He wondered if his father had felt these same things, when faced with Erestor’s unflappable calm. He wondered what he had gotten himself into.  

The laces finally loosened enough that he was able to slide his leggings over his hips and down his legs. He stepped out of them and placed them carefully beside his tunic. Clad in only a soft, forest green loincloth, he stepped in front of the fire once more.

“That goes as well,” Erestor said. 

Galathil’s fingers shook as he undid the ties that held the loincloth in place. He could feel those dark eyes on him, observing his every move, and it was unnerving and arousing at the same time. He took a deep breath and dropped the loincloth to the floor, utterly exposed.

Erestor’s eyes roamed over his nude form appreciatively. “Very nice,” he said, his eyes lingering on Galathil’s length. “Very nice. This excites you, does it not?” 

He nodded faintly. He certainly could not deny that his body found it exciting. The evidence of his arousal was painfully exposed for Erestor’s eyes. 

“Very nice,” Erestor repeated sincerely. “You are quite lovely.”  His eyes flickered over Galathil’s body once more before he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands beneath his chin. “Touch yourself, Prince.”

Galathil blinked in surprise, certain he must have misunderstood. “I am sorry, Lord. What did you say?”

“Touch yourself. I want you to pleasure yourself for me,” Erestor replied, his eyes finally evincing some emotion. They were dark with the unspoken promise of passion. 

His face burned with humiliation, but there was something incredibly arousing about it as well. His fingers gripped his arousal with a familiar touch and he stroked himself tentatively, unable to give into the sensation with Erestor’s eyes burning him from across the room.

An exasperated sigh came from the Noldo. “Is that how you pleasure yourself, pen-neth?” he demanded. “It would take you hours to reach any satisfaction that way.”

“I am sorry, my Lord,” Galathil answered shakily. “I am unused to performing for an audience.”

Erestor shook his head. “Forget I am here. Close your eyes, pen-neth.”

Galathil did not think that anything he did would make him forget the dark beauty that watched him, but he dutifully closed his eyes.  He heard the rustle of fabric and realized that Erestor had risen from his chair. 

“Keep your eyes closed, Prince,” Erestor’s voice came from slightly further away. Sounds of something being opened caught his attention, and he held his breath as he heard Erestor approach him.

Something cool and liquid poured over his hand and over his length, and his breath caught at the sensation.

“Now,” Erestor crooned softly. “Show me. Stroke that lovely length of yours. Let me see you loose yourself in your own touch.”

Whatever substance Erestor had used made his hand slippery. His fingers slid over his own flesh with ease, and he worked his length in sure strokes. A low groan escaped him and his head fell back. Pleasure built within him with each stroke, and he found he no longer cared that Erestor watched. It was easy to pretend, while his eyes were closed, that he was alone, or better still, that another’s hand worked him this way. His breathing quickened and he groaned again, his stomach tightening with his impending release.

“Stop.”

Strong hands grabbed his and pulled them away from his throbbing arousal, and Galathil cried out in frustration. His body trembled with his need to finish. He realized Erestor’s hands had not released his and he opened his eyes.

“Come with me,” Erestor said quietly.

His legs were weak and he nearly stumbled as he followed Erestor to the bed. Gently, Erestor guided Galathil to lie down on his back. He pushed Galathil’s thighs apart and lifted his knees, so that they were bent, splayed apart. 

Galathil groaned softly when Erestor’s fingers brushed the hair at the base of his arousal. His body ached to be touched, to complete what he had started earlier. The touches were maddening, they were far too light to bring him to completion, but they were firm enough to keep him fully aroused. Moisture leaked from the tip of his length, and Erestor carefully gathered it on his fingertips. He could not help but flinch when those fingertips pressed gently between his buttocks, circling the tiny opening there. 

Erestor’s expression was unreadable, utterly neutral as he slid a finger inside Galathil’s body. 

He could not help but wince at the invasion. The sensation was wholly new, and though uncomfortable, it was bearable. He let out a long breath and willed his body to relax. His partners had always seemed to enjoy it when he touched them that way. There was no reason he should not be able to do the same.

All his reason left him, however, when Erestor leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. He shuddered, opening his mouth hungrily for more. A soft whimper of disappointment escaped him when Erestor withdrew.

“Now look at me, pen-neth,” Erestor whispered huskily. 

Shaking, Galathil obeyed, locking his gaze on Erestor’s face. It was a struggle not to close his eyes when Erestor’s fingers lightly pinched his nipples, teasing them until they were aching. His hand traveled lower, brushing across the flatness of Galathil’s stomach until they rested on his length. With agonizing slowness, Erestor stroked the length of slick flesh between his fingers, bringing Galathil’s pleasure towards its peak once more. Just as before, though, his release was denied. Erestor’s hand stilled its movements, and a growl of denial fell from Galathil’s lips.

Erestor moved away with a soft chuckle, his fingers undoing the ties of his tunic. He cast it aside and returned to the bed, smiling down at Galathil.

It was a struggle not to let his frustration show openly on his face. His hands wadded the bedclothes tightly as he looked up at Erestor, taking in his bared skin with hungry eyes. He no longer cared what the elf Lord wanted with him, only that he finish what he had started.

Erestor looked at him with half-closed eyes. “Turn over,” he murmured. “On your stomach, Prince.”

Galathil rolled over, gasping as his arousal pressed against the soft mattress. He buried his hands beneath the pillow and clutched it to his chin, wondering what Erestor would do next to torment him.  

He felt the elf Lord settle on the bed and shivered when he felt his hands stroke his back, sliding down to brush lightly over the curve of his buttocks.  The mattress dipped slightly as Erestor moved forward, kneeling between Galathil’s legs. Something warm and wet touched his back, like liquid velvet it stroked his spine, and Galathil shuddered in response. Erestor licked a path down the curve of his spine, sending gooseflesh rippling over his skin. He lingered for a moment at the top of Galathil’s buttocks, lightly nipping the fuller flesh and sending another shiver through him. The exploration continued then, down the line that separated his cheeks, sliding teasingly between them. Galathil moaned quietly, his arousal throbbing in sympathy when Erestor parted the full flesh, revealing his opening to his gaze. The warm, wet touch of Erestor’s tongue against his opening made him jump, and he heard the Noldo’s quiet chuckle.  The tongue left him, then, and continued a path downward to explore the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. 

His skin tingled wherever Erestor touched him, and while his need had abated to a tolerable level, his desire had not retreated in the slightest. Each touch and caress seemed to stoke the embers, building the foundation of the fire that would consume him, if given enough fuel. 

When Erestor rolled him over onto his back once more, Galathil felt almost boneless. His limbs felt heavy, full of languor, too weak to resist anything that Erestor might do. He did not care that he had been reduced to such a state. His skin was flushed, glistening with a light perspiration. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he could feel every inch of his body as it pressed against the bedding. He felt he had reached a point where all Erestor would have to do was kiss him, and he would explode. 

Smiling at his flushed form, Erestor rose from the bed and undid his leggings. He slid them over his slender hips and kicked them aside, revealing the smooth column of hard flesh to Galathil’s hungry gaze. 

Erestor motioned Galathil to get up, while he sat on the edge of the bed. He then pointed to the spot of carpet between his feet. “On your knees, Prince.”

He was trembling again, swallowing nervously as he struggled to force his limbs to comply, kneeling before Erestor. His gaze fell to the impressive length of flush jutting proudly from Erestor’s groin, and he licked his lips. A hand closed gently over the back of his neck, guiding him forward, until his lips grazed the smooth head of Erestor’s length. 

“Pleasure me,” Erestor crooned softly. “Use that lovely mouth of yours, Prince.”

Galathil opened his mouth and he closed his eyes, taking Erestor’s length between his lips. It was a struggle not to gag at first, for he had not done this in a long time, but soon he found his rhythm. He sucked the hard column of flesh, drawing back and running his tongue over the weeping slit, before taking it deeply again. A soft moan came from above him, and Galathil felt a responding throb his loins.

“That is it, my lovely,” Erestor groaned, his hand gently guiding Galathil’s movements as he took his length deeper. His eyes had narrowed into slits, and his breathing had become harsh and irregular. “Swallow, Prince.”

He felt the sudden tightening of Noldo’s body and swallowed reflexively, his mouth flooded with the warm essence of Erestor’s release. He slowed, working the length of flesh between his lips, milking every drop from him until Erestor gently pushed him away. 

A soft and breathless chuckle escaped the elf Lord and he glanced up, licking the last of Erestor’s essence from his lips.

“Very good, pen-neth. I am pleased.”  His hand cupped the back of Galathil’s neck gently and he drew him forward, leaning down to bestow a kiss. Warm, silken lips touched his briefly, and Galathil groaned, wanting nothing more than to devour Erestor’s mouth with his own. 

Erestor drew back, his dark eyes glittering. “Patience has its own rewards, Prince.”
He drew his thumb slowly over Galathil’s lips. “Like tonight, for instance. I wanted nothing more than to take your lovely body, to fill you, and to feel your heat surround me.” He smiled briefly, sliding his thumb between Galathil’s lips. “I can be patient, however.” 

A pleading whimper escaped him as Erestor’s thumb lightly brushed his tongue. 

“The question remains, Prince. Can you?”  He withdrew his thumb abruptly and rose, reaching for his sleeping robes. 

Galathil sat back on his heels, utterly dumbfounded as he watched Erestor dress.  His arousal wept freely, throbbing insistently against his stomach. 

“You cannot mean to leave me this way,” he managed roughly, rising to his feet.

Erestor arched an eyebrow at him. “I do, Prince. I most certainly do. Furthermore, I expect you to go to sleep without taking your pleasure, by your own hand or another’s.”  He smiled wickedly and motioned to the bed. “Now, it is time for bed. I am quite tired.”

“But…you…I cannot believe…” Galathil struggled to speak. He was painfully aroused and angry as well. “I am not staying here with you,” he said finally, his face flushed with anger.

“By your own word and your father’s command, pen-neth, you will do as I request. Therefore I ‘request’ that you stay the night, so that I may continue your instruction in the morning. Your Princely duties have, for the moment, been regulated to another, so that you can devote your full attention to me.” Erestor finished buttoning his sleeping robe and eyed Galathil sternly. “You are far too used to having your own way with things, and getting whatever it is you want. Well, Prince, that is not to be the case this evening. I will abide nothing less than your absolute obedience and trust in this matter.”

Galathil shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to will his arousal away. “You are being cruel,” he whispered. Gentle fingers gripped his chin and he opened his eyes to meet Erestor’s dark gaze.

“No, pen-neth,” Erestor said with a quiet chuckle. “If I was truly being cruel, I would sleep without the robe.”

< > < > < >

Elladan awoke the following morning curled against Thranduil.  He looked at the King, so beautiful in sleep, and glanced down at the rings that pierced his nipples.  A wicked smile crossed his lips and he reached for one with his mouth, gently suckling it and fondling the ring against his tongue.

Thranduil moaned quietly in his sleep and shifted against Elladan.  Eyes clouded with reverie began to clear as he awoke, and he smiled at the wanton sensations that began to course through his body.  “Good morning, melethron,” he whispered huskily.

“Good morning, my Lord,” Elladan replied sultrily.  “Was I yielding and obedient enough for you last night?” he cooed.

Thranduil chuckled and caressed his hair.  “Yes, you were an apt pupil, bain nín.”

“Have I earned a reward?” Elladan purred, his tongue darting out and teasing the taut nipple that lay beneath his mouth.

Thranduil hissed and arched slightly, craving more of the sinful attention that Elladan bestowed upon him.  “I suppose you have, pen rhovan,” he answered, his voice growing thick with lust.

Elladan straddled his new lover and pinned his wrists above his head.  “Excellent,” he growled.  “For I claim you as my reward.”

Thranduil bit back a laugh, knowing that his superior size and strength could easily free himself from this position.  However, Elladan had been more than compliant, and learned his lesson well; what harm could a little indulgence do?  “Do you now?” he purred.  “Well then, I am the lucky one indeed, your reward is my pleasure.”

Elladan lowered his mouth to Thranduil and pressed a possessive, bruising kiss to the King’s lips, and Thranduil was surprised by its intensity.  

As they broke from their kiss, Thranduil chided gently, “Falling back into old habits are we?”

Elladan smiled seductively and whispered against his lips, “Just this once, my Lord.”  He batted his eyelids and nuzzled Thranduil’s mouth.  “Saes?”

Thranduil smiled and captured Elladan’s lower lip, gently tugging it as he pulled away.  “Alright, but just this once…”

Elladan claimed his mouth again, delving into its deepest recesses before pulling back.  He licked his lips as he hovered over Thranduil’s face.  “Mmm…” he crooned, “You are indeed hotter than the fires of the east, melethron, and as sweet as honey.  I can hardly wait to find out what the rest of you tastes like.”

“Then waste no more time, pen rhovan,” the King growled in reply.

Elladan fell upon him like he were starving, consuming the King and savoring his flesh.  After concentrating upon each nipple, fondling and tugging upon the rings that pierced them, he worked his way down the Sinda’s powerful, undulating body, his hands trailing down Thranduil’s strong arms and chest.

He came to rest between his new lover’s sculpted thighs and gazed upon his arousal.  He nuzzled it, breathing in his scent, nudging the soft pouch that lay beneath his length.  He slowly moved further back, his questing tongue finding the King’s entrance and tentatively tasting it.

Thranduil smiled and growled in appreciation as Elladan nudged against his backside.  It was not something he normally allowed from anyone he did not totally trust; but something told him that this was the right thing to do, that Elladan needed it lest his spirit be broken.

Elladan took the King’s feral growl of approval as a sign that he should continue onward, and he encircled his entrance before sliding his tongue inside.

A plaintive, “Ah!” escaped the King’s lips as he arched his back, feeling Elladan’s fingers dig into his thighs.  “You are wicked, son of Elrond,” he groaned, “an elf after my own heart.”

Elladan withdrew and smiled up at the King.  “Half-elf, my Lord.  But I accept the compliment just the same.  ‘Tis easy to perform such deeds upon so inspiring a subject.”  He lapped at the King’s rigid length.  “I would have you spent and undone beneath me, my Lord.  I have the feeling you are never more beautiful than when lost in passion.”

Thranduil smiled and sighed.  “You would have me enslaved by you, if I allowed it.  But that is something that you will never have, no matter how wicked you may be, bain nín.” He shifted against his lover, “Now, no more talk.  Finish what you have started, pen rhovan.”

Elladan smiled wickedly and answered, “Yes, my Lord.”  He grasped his lover’s arousal in his hand, sliding from tip to base, milking the essence that was beginnings of his lover’s release.  He thoroughly coated his hand and fingers with it, then placed them at the King’s entrance, sliding two inside his powerful body with effortless skill.

Thranduil moaned in pleasure, his perfect lips parted as he arched in response.  Elladan smiled and dipped his mouth to the Sinda’s weeping arousal, tormenting him sweetly as he felt the King’s length slide between his lips.  After cursory preparation, he removed his fingers and entered his lover, gasping in delight at the luxurious heat that enveloped him.  He looked down at Thranduil’s face and smiled.  He was right; the King was more beautiful in that moment than he had been since their arrival.  His lover’s eyes fluttered closed as an erotic moan escaped his sensual lips, he arched his back and tilted his head up, exposing his beautiful neck to Elladan’s hungry mouth.  

As Elladan entered his lover, he nipped and bit at the King’s neck, reveling in the deep moans and feral growls that issued from him.  His heart jumped as the King cried out when he found his mark, and he brushed against it unerringly, sending fire racing through both their bodies.  He rounded his back and pressed into Thranduil’s hands, feeling the King’s fingers dig into his lean back as he buried himself to the root repeatedly.  

He stroked his lover’s arousal until they both found release, crying out as they each achieved climax.

He collapsed upon the King’s chest, panting for air, heedless of the warm, viscous fluid that spread between them, and purred in contentment as Thranduil stroked his hair.

“Well done, pen rhovan,” the King crooned.  “Well done indeed.”

< > < > < >

Elrohir woke to the sensual caress of his new lover.  Legolas was curled against him like a cat, his soft, warm tongue teasing his ear and his long archer’s fingers drawing idle patterns across his chest and stomach.

“Mmm… good morning, my Prince,” Elrohir crooned.

Legolas smiled against his ear and whispered, “A good morning indeed, mir nín.  There is yet one lesson I must have before your task is complete…”

Elrohir chuckled softly and inquired, “And what would that be, bain nín?”

Legolas slowly began working his way down Elrohir’s body, his mouth trailing from the Peredhil’s ear to his neck, to his chest.   He concentrated on each nipple until Elrohir was practically writhing beneath him before snaking lower, probing his navel with his tongue and brushing his lips through the hair that grew above his lover’s arousal.

Elrohir arched his back and moaned softly, his legs falling apart to give his lover easier access to his most sensitive and intimate areas. He took his lover’s arousal in his hand and drew his tongue up the underside with long slow strokes.  He smiled as he heard Elrohir’s breathless whispers of approval and worked his way lower; suckling the soft pouch of skin beneath as Elrohir groaned and undulated.  He continued further back, flicking his tongue against Elrohir’s entrance as he heard his rasping pleas.

“Yes, oh yes…” Elrohir croaked, “By the Valar you are a fast learner…”

This time it was Legolas who chuckled as he murmured, “I had a good teacher…”

Legolas took his time, bringing Elrohir to the brink and letting him fall back, only to drive him onward again.

Elrohir reached down and brought Legolas’ head up, looking down at him and smiling seductively.  “Take me, melethron.  Go on, you have earned it.”

Legolas blinked and opened his mouth to question if he should, but the insistent pounding rhythm emanating from his loins silenced him.  He nodded and reached for the vial set on the floor the previous night.  He coated himself thoroughly, his hands sliding through the warm oil causing him to shudder with desire.  

“There is no need to go slowly, mellon,” Elrohir whispered.  

Legolas nodded in understanding and grasped Elrohir’s thighs sheathing himself in one smooth thrust.  He threw his head back and gasped, his wide eyes staring at the ceiling, his body overcome by the sensations that flooded it: Elrohir’s deep moan, his own rasping breathing, tight, delicious, warmth enveloping him, enfolding him.  It was something he had been utterly unprepared for, something he could not have imagined if he had tried.  

“Oh Gods…” he managed to whisper.  “Oh Elrohir…”

Elrohir took deep breaths and nodded, the familiar comfort of being filled causing a bright heat to flood his body.  “Move, Legolas, please…” he called out softly.

Legolas began to move, fighting to focus on Elrohir’s voice rather than become utterly lost to the most intense and intimate sensations he had ever known.  He followed his tutor’s directions, and found his mark.  He cried out in unison with Elrohir as his lover’s body tightened around him, his own keening cry seeming to come from the very depths of his body.  Again and again he aimed for it as he began to tremble with his impending release.   He took Elrohir’s arousal in his hand without being asked, remembering what Elrohir had done for him the night before.  He stroked it in time with his motion and as Elrohir found his release he cried out again, his own climax causing him to quake with its intensity.  He slowly slipped from Elrohir’s body, unable to move, unable to do anything but breathe.

Elrohir sat up and looked at Legolas who sat back on his heels before him.  The Prince’s head hung down, his face concealed behind the veil of his flaxen hair.  He reached out and tilted his chin up, and gazed into eyes that were shining with tears.

“Legolas,” he whispered softly, “are you all right, mellonamin?”

Legolas nodded and reached out for him, burying his face in Elrohir’s hair.  “Thank you, Elrohir,” he whispered into his ear.  “I will never forget this, not as long as I live.”

Elrohir enfolded him in his arms and stroked his hair.  “It was a rare privilege and an honor to be your first, my Lord.”

Legolas shook his head and whispered into Elrohir’s ear, “Please do not call me that, not after what we just did.”

Elrohir laughed softly and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.  “I am sorry, Legolas.  What if I call you meleth instead?”

Legolas laughed softly and sniffled. “Yes, I would like that.”

The two young lovers held one another into the late hours of the morning.

< > < > < >

Chapter 6

Glorfindel rolled onto his back, pulling Haldir across his chest and kissing him soundly.

“Good morning, a’maelamin,” Haldir chuckled, when Glorfindel finally released his mouth. “You seem to be in a fine mood.”

A naughty smirk tilted the corners of Glorfindel’s lips. “How could I not be?” he purred, sliding his hands over Haldir’s shoulders. “After last night?”  His slid his thigh between Haldir’s and pressed it against his lover’s growing arousal. 

Haldir groaned softly, burying his face in the warmth of Glorfindel’s neck. “Ai, meleth, you are insatiable.”

“You are complaining?” Glorfindel asked, his hands sliding lower to cup Haldir’s smooth buttocks.

A startled huff escaped Haldir when Glorfindel’s finger slid into his body. “No,” he groaned, arching his back. “Never.”  He rocked his hips forward, pressing his length against his lover’s thigh. 

“You will wake the hall if you make such noise, meleth,” Glorfindel chided softly, pressing his lips against Haldir’s neck. His teeth nipped the pale skin of his throat gently while he worked his finger slowly in and out of his lover’s body. 

A shudder wracked Haldir’s frame and he groaned again. “Saes, meleth. You are merely teasing me.”  He looked down at Glorfindel and smiled wickedly. “I will have what I want from you.”

A golden eyebrow arched playfully up at the marchwarden. “Truly?”

Haldir nodded. “You are helpless to resist me,” he told his lover with all seriousness, though his eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.

Glorfindel rocked his hips upward, pressing his thigh more firmly against Haldir’s arousal and wrenching a low moan from his lips. “I think it is you who are helpless, melethron.”  He added a second finger to the first, and struck his mark with unerring accuracy, making Haldir cry out with pleasure. “I think it is you who is at my mercy.”

Groaning, Haldir captured Glorfindel’s mouth with his own, sliding his tongue between his lover’s lips. The kiss became a battle of wills, though Haldir had to concede that Glorfindel had the advantage. Finally he broke away, gasping. 

“I yield, my Lord,” he whispered. “Take me then, I am yours.”

Glorfindel’s fingers left him then, seeking the bottle of oil they had left out on the bedside table. He poured the oil across his hand, working it into his arousal. He moved Haldir upwards, his hands guiding his hips, until the tip of his length pressed against his lover’s opening. 

With a low groan, Haldir moved back and slowly impaled himself on Glorfindel’s length.

“Sweet Elbereth, Haldir,” Glorfindel gasped, closing his eyes in bliss. He grasped Haldir’s hips as his lover began to move, rocking his hips in a slow rhythm that had them both moaning in abandon. One hand left its place at Haldir’s hip to grasp his arousal firmly, stroking it in time with his lover’s movements. 

Their bodies moved together more quickly, Glorfindel’s hips rocking forward to meet Haldir’s downward movements. Their groans echoed each other as they each sought fulfillment in the other. Their harsh and ragged breathing filled the room, accompanied by the soft sounds of flesh meeting flesh. Haldir’s body tightened around him as he cried out, the warmth of his seed spilling over Glorfindel’s hand. He shuddered, his body twitching as Glorfindel continued to thrust into him, his own release following close behind. He came with a loud groan, burying himself deeply into his lover’s heat, his legs trembling with the aftershocks. 

Haldir collapsed against Glorfindel’s chest; his breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Glorfindel’s arms slid up from his hips to wrap around his back, holding him tightly.  He could hear the seneschal’s heart beating every bit as wildly as his own. 

Glorfindel stroked Haldir’s soft hair, his length twitching occasionally as it gradually softened inside its warm prison. There was simply nothing better than this.

“Melon lle,” Haldir whispered, his lips brushing against Glorfindel’s neck.

The seneschal’s arms tightened briefly and he placed a gentle kiss on Haldir’s forehead. “Melon lle, hûn nín.”

< > < > < >

An insistent yet pleasurable sensation woke him from reverie, and it took a moment to realize what it was.

Erestor’s hands were lightly stroking his arousal beneath the covers, awakening it to full hardness. Even as his body responded to Erestor’s touch, he realized something else: his hands were tied to the headboard of the bed.

Galathil turned his head and met the smoky gaze of the Noldo, and Erestor gave him a lazy smile.

“Good morning, Prince,” he crooned. “Sleep well?”

He gave a strangled moan, tugging futilely on the bonds that held his arms above his head. “I did not,” he managed tightly. He expected Erestor’s teasing hand to draw away, to leave him in the aching state as it had left him the night before. He moaned again when the caress grew firmer, working his length in long, skillful strokes.

Erestor gave a soft, knowing chuckle. “You did well last night, Prince. I think it is time for your next lesson.”

Galathil’s eyes widened in surprise as Erestor slowly drew the coverlet back. Sometime, while he had slept, the elf Lord had removed his sleeping robe. He bit back a gasp when Erestor slid across him, covering his body with his own. 

Erestor’s hands cradled either side of his face as the elven lord lowered his head, claiming his mouth hungrily. He opened his mouth under the demanding pressure of Erestor’s lips, his moans muffled by the press of the Noldo’s mouth against his. A sweet fire built in his veins, all the hotter from his unfulfilled frustrations the night before. His hips rocked forward, brushing his arousal against Erestor’s, and he was surprised to hear the elf lord groan. 

A whimper escaped him when Erestor drew back, eliciting a soft chuckle. “Do not worry, Prince. I will not leave you wanting this time. But just as last night’s lesson taught you patience, this morning’s will teach you respect.” He drew his hand down the center of Galathil’s body slowly. “You will learn the simple truth that pleasure is mine to give, and mine to withhold.”  His lips brushed lightly over Galathil’s nipple before teasing the small nub with his tongue.

Galathil arched against the mattress, his wrists burning from the tension on the ropes, but he did not care. Erestor’s tongue left one nipple to attend the other and he drew the hardened nub between his lips, making Galathil whimper softly. Slowly, Erestor’s tongue drew a wet path down the center of his chest, pausing at the small indentation of his stomach. He squirmed, arching against the mattress when his new lover moved lower, his lips finally brushing at the soft hair that grew at the base of his arousal. 

Warmth and wetness enclosed his length, and Galathil groaned, closing his eyes as Erestor worked him with delicious friction. His moans grew plaintive when Erestor slowed, his tongue circling the crown, catching the drops of moisture weeping from the tip. 

“Saes,” Galathil pleaded softly. 

“Patience,” Erestor reminded him before taking him deep in his mouth once more. Galathil’s hips bucked, and his lover held them down with his hands, keeping him from thrusting into his mouth. His head tossed back and forth on the pillow as Erestor brought him to the edge and drew back, letting the pleasure subside just enough, before bringing him to the edge again. It was torture of the most exquisite kind, and Galathil did not know if he wanted it to end, or to continue forever. 

As he neared the peak of his desire once more, Erestor let his length slide free from his lips and moved lower. Sensations, wholly new and utterly pleasurable assailed him as Erestor’s tongue laved the soft pouch of skin just below his length. He felt his thighs being lifted, pressed further apart as his lover’s tongue delved lower, and he opened himself willingly. He had never had another do this to him, and it was pleasurable beyond words. 

He gave a soft whimper when Erestor’s tongue circled his opening, his body trembling with need. His whimper turned into a moan when that tongue penetrated him, sending shivers though his lithe frame. Galathil’s shoulders sagged against the mattress when Erestor’s tongue left him, and a plaintive moan escaped him.

“What do you want, Prince?” Erestor asked softly, looking up at him from between his trembling thighs.

Galathil swallowed, his mouth struggling to form the words. “Saes,” he whispered.

Erestor ran the tip of his tongue over the weeping slit and smiled, a sleepy, predatory smile. “Tell me what it is you want and I will give it to you.”

He shuddered. “I want you,” he croaked. “Saes.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Erestor said, his smile widening. “I will grant your request.”  He rose from the bed for a moment, and returned with a jar of salve. Dipping two fingers into the salve, he coated his own length thoroughly with the slippery substance. He added more to his fingers, before closing the lid and setting it aside.

Galathil could not help but tense when one of those fingers pressed gently against his entrance. 

“Relax, Prince,” Erestor crooned softly. “It will hurt if you are tense.”  He used his other hand to stroke Galathil’s arousal even as he pushed a single finger inside his body.

Even with the distraction, it was still uncomfortable at first; a slight burning pain accompanied the intrusion. Galathil let out a hissing breath. 

“Close your eyes, Prince,” Erestor commanded quietly. “Yield your body to me.”

He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on the feel of Erestor’s hand stroking him firmly. The burning sensation had faded, leaving him only with the feeling of being opened. He relaxed slightly, and heard Erestor murmur his approval.

It was difficult for him, at first, to yield to another in this fashion, but Galathil realized it was exciting in its own way. There was something almost painfully erotic about giving himself into another’s hands this way. He had no control over what Erestor did. He could only accept the pleasure the elf lord gave him. Knowing that excited him even more. 

Erestor’s strokes grew firmer, quickening gradually as his finger worked in and out of Galathil’s body. He felt his body tightening in a different way as the pleasure built within him. His breathing grew ragged and uneven when Erestor finally added another finger, pressing deeper into his body. It hurt, but it was the kind of pain that only added fuel to his desire. Galathil spread his legs further, groaning wantonly. His body jerked and he gave a short cry when Erestor’s fingers brushed something deep inside of him. His eyes flew open in surprise.

Erestor chuckled softly, his dark eyes half-closed. “You liked that?” he whispered.

Galathil nodded, and was rewarded with another jolt so intense he was nearly undone. His breath came in short gasps and his eyes closed tightly when Erestor’s fingers left him. He knew what was coming next, and he both dreaded it and wanted it desperately.

The tip of Erestor’s length breached him slowly, and he gasped, feeling as if he were being stretched impossibly wide. It burned exquisitely, the pain wavering just on the edge of pleasure. It seemed like an eternity before Erestor filled him completely, and Galathil shuddered when he finally stopped moving. He could feel the warm throb of Erestor’s member inside of him, and it made him shudder again, this time in pleasure.

His arms ached from being held above his head, but he was only dimly aware of the discomfort as Erestor began to move, thrusting slowly in and out of his body with short, controlled movements. The thrusts were timed with firm strokes on his length, and Galathil was torn between the sensations. His body gradually relaxed enough for the thrusts to lengthen, working deeper, and he felt the same mind-shattering jolt of pleasure when Erestor’s hardness touched that spot deep within him. 

Galathil was lost, utterly undone as his release claimed him. He gave a wordless shout, his seed spilling over the hand that worked him, and his body trembled almost violently from the intensity of it. He heard Erestor’s low growl, felt him thrust deep one last time, before the warmth of his release filled him. 

For a moment, he simply could not move. His limbs would not obey him. All he could do was lay there, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his body still twitching from his passion. He felt Erestor withdraw from him and winced, feeling the soreness that was entirely new but not unwelcome. 

Erestor stretched out on his back beside him, his hands folded against his stomach, and he heard the Noldo give a satisfied sigh. With a groan, Galathil managed to close his legs, his thighs aching from the strain. He turned his head, and saw that Erestor was smiling at him.

“Are you well satisfied, Prince?” Erestor asked softly.

It took him three tries to form the word. “Yes.”

With a chuckle, Erestor rose from the bed, returning with a dampened cloth. He cleaned Galathil off with quick efficiency before tending to himself. Tossing the cloth aside, Erestor reached for his robes and pulled them on.  

Galathil’s eyes widened with surprise and suspicion. “You are not going to leave me like this?” He rolled his eyes upwards to indicate his tied hands.

Erestor smiled wickedly. “I am. I find you look quite delightful like that.”

“But…breakfast…what if the servants come in?  You cannot leave me like this.”  Galathil struggled against the ropes futilely. 

The Noldo’s smile only widened further. “I can. I will. You will see me after breakfast. Do not worry, Prince. I will bring you back something to eat.”  He smirked. “After all, you will need your energy for this afternoon’s lesson.”

“At least draw the covers over me so that the servants do not see me like this,” Galathil begged.

Erestor’s laugh was wicked. “My dear Prince,” he said, shaking his head. “That is all part of the next lesson.” 

Galathil bit back the groan that rose in his throat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he watched Erestor leave, the door closing softly behind him. 

The lesson in humility was already begun. 

< > < > < >

Haldir and Glorfindel finally left their room in search of breakfast and met Erestor on the stairs. The normally serious counselor was actually smiling when he greeted them, and Glorfindel stifled his chuckle at Haldir’s raised eyebrows.

“Feeling cheerful this morning, Lord Erestor?” Glorfindel asked, reaching for a biscuit from the sideboard and slathering it generously with fresh preserves. “You must have slept well.”

Erestor smirked. “Yes, I did. Quite well, actually.”

Haldir nearly dropped his teacup. He set it gently back on the table, and eyed the Noldo suspiciously. “Mirkwood seems to agree with you, Lord Erestor,” he finally ventured.

A low chuckle escaped the dark haired elf. “Why, yes, I do believe it does.” They watched him gather another plate of food from the sideboard with curiosity. 

“Hungry, are you?” Glorfindel could not resist teasing.

Erestor spared him a mild glance. “Quite,” he replied simply, and turned, leaving them both with expressions of bewildered amusement.

“What has gotten into him?” Haldir said, taking a bite of fresh melon.

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed a moment as he considered the strange behavior of his friend. He shook his head, muttering to himself, before his eyes widened. A queer, choking sound escaped him.

Haldir eyed his lover with alarm. “Are you all right?”

The golden warrior shook his head, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his chuckles and failed. “I am fine,” he managed finally, between chuckles. “It is nothing.”

The marchwarden placed his biscuit on his plate and frowned at Glorfindel. “Something has struck you as humorous. If you do not wish for me to tie you up and torment you, I suggest you tell me what it is.”

Glorfindel smirked, leaning over to steal a kiss from Haldir’s lips. “I would enjoy that, melethron. So it is not much of a threat.”  He saw his lover’s mock glower and grinned. “I believe I know what it is that has put our normally somber counselor in such a fine mood.”

Haldir arched an eyebrow at Glorfindel, prodding him to explain further.

Leaning forward, he dropped his voice conspiratorially. “I suspect that Erestor did not spend the night alone.”

Both of Haldir’s eyebrows rose at that. He looked at Glorfindel a moment, and then shook his head, picking up his tea. “He did not waste any time, then.”

“Ah,” Glorfindel said, nodding. “When Erestor sets his sights on someone, he seldom misses the target.”

< > < > < >

Elladan sat before the mirror on Thranduil’s dressing table, his eyes closed and hands resting upon the tabletop.  He sighed as the King combed and stroked his hair, and occasionally bestowed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“They are coming,” he said softly.

“Yes, I know,” Thranduil answered.

Elladan smiled and leaned back into Thranduil’s touch.  “You have released him to me again.”

Thranduil nodded, answering quietly, “His task is done.”  

Thranduil carefully braided Elladan’s hair, patting him on the shoulder when he finished.  Elladan rose and stepped around the chair placing his arms around Thranduil’s neck as he whispered into his ear, “Thank you, hîr nín.” 

Thranduil smiled and answered.  “It has been many years since I have braided anyone’s hair but my own.  I used to braid Galathil’s and Legolas’ hair when they were elflings.”

Elladan laughed softly.  “That is not the only thing I am thanking you for.”

Thranduil gave him a little squeeze and a kiss to the side of his head.  “I know, pen-neth. I know,” he answered.

“Adar?” 

The sound of Legolas’ voice caused the two elves to separate and they turned to see Legolas and Elrohir coming through the doorway, hand in hand.

Legolas and Elrohir parted, Elrohir walking into Elladan’s arms and Legolas seeking his father’s arms.  Thranduil kissed Legolas on the top of the head and held him tight, breathing in his unique scent and reveling in his son’s loving embrace.  Elrohir buried his face in Elladan’s hair as his elder brother held him tight and whispered words of love into his ear.

Thranduil looked at the twins and addressed them quietly, “The two of you will wish some time alone, I would imagine.  You may retire to Legolas’ room, where you will be undisturbed.”  

Elladan smiled at the King and guided Elrohir through the door into the private hallway that led to Legolas and Galathil’s quarters.

Thranduil moved to sit upon the side of his bed and Legolas sat beside him, resting his head upon his father’s shoulder.  

“How do you feel, Iôn?” he asked quietly, as he placed an arm around Legolas’ shoulders.

Legolas yawned and snuggled closer to his father.  “Tired, and a little sore, but good.  Very good.”  He smiled sleepily.

Thranduil patted his son on the shoulder and kissed the top of his head.  “You had a memorable and pleasurable first experience then?” he asked softly.

Legolas wrapped his long arms around his father’s waist.  “Yes, Ada,” he answered quietly.   “And now I am ready.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, still not completely sure what his son’s answer would be.  “Have you made your choice then, Greenleaf?”

Legolas tilted his head up so that his lips brushed against the curve of his father’s ear.  “I have, Ada,” he answered quietly, his voice almost a purr.

Thranduil swallowed and slid his arm around his son’s waist.  

“I choose you, Ada,” Legolas continued.  “It is you that I love.”

Thranduil turned to face Legolas and was met with a gentle kiss.  He caressed his son’s face as Legolas kissed him, his son’s lips softly nudging his own apart.  

Legolas moaned quietly as he slid his tongue inside Thranduil’s mouth and brought his hands up into his father’s hair.  He kissed him slowly, lovingly, tasting of the one he had wanted for so long. 

Thranduil moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth and letting Legolas explore to his heart’s content.  He lay back upon the bed as Legolas slid on top of him and continued to taste him.  Finally, they separated, each taking a deep breath and smiling at the other.

“Sleep here with me, Iôn,” Thranduil whispered.  “Take your rest in my arms.”

Legolas smiled and nuzzled his father’s mouth.  “There is no place I would rather be, Ada,” he whispered in reply.

Thranduil sat up, pulling his son with him, and turned back the covers on the bed, tucking Legolas in as he had so many times when he was an elfling.  He then rounded the bed and climbed in the other side, sliding over and taking his beloved Greenleaf in his arms.  “Sleep, meleth,” he said softly.  “I will be here when you wake.”

Legolas smiled and yawned, snuggling close to his father and resting his head upon the King’s shoulder.
< > < > < >

Elladan laughed softly as he impacted the bed, and grunted as Elrohir fell upon him.

“Oh, I missed you, muindor,” Elrohir breathed into his elder twin’s ear.

Elladan wrapped his arms around his younger brother and held him tight.  “Did you really?” he asked softly.

Elrohir nodded and kissed Elladan’s neck before answering, “Aye, very much.”

Elladan closed his eyes and caressed his twin’s hair.  “It was nigh unbearable, Elrohir.  I could not feel you, could not hear you, I could not reach you.”  He took a deep breath and continued, “I was so frightened, so lost without you.”

Elrohir rose to one elbow and looked into his brother’s eyes.  “Thranduil promised he would take care of you.  He promised me he would not leave you alone until I returned.  Did he not honor that promise?”

Elladan smiled sadly and nodded.  “He did, he was with me the entire time.  But it was not the same as being with you, Elrohir.  Were you not frightened without me?”

Elrohir slowly shook his head.  “I was not frightened because I knew you would be here in the morning, I knew I would see you again.”  He sighed.  “It is strange, Elladan, but before we came here I was becoming jealous; I did not want to share you with anyone else.  But now, I am not afraid anymore, I know that you will never love anyone as you do me, never want anyone as you do me.  My experience with Legolas taught me that.  Is that not strange?”

Elladan furrowed his brow and asked, “How so, Elrohir?”

Elrohir smiled and caressed his brother’s face.  “Legolas chose me because he saw some of himself in me.  You and Thranduil are forces of nature, Elladan, overwhelming, impossible to resist.  He looks to his father for the same things I look to you for, comfort, security, and love.  When Thranduil closed the link between you and me, when I could no longer feel you, no longer hear you in my mind, I was forced to stand upon my own two legs, forced to be strong.  For the first time in my life, I could not look to you for direction.  I was on my own.”  He pressed a brief kiss to his twin’s lips.  “It was then that I realized I could do it, even if only for a short while.”  He brushed a tear that began to fall from Elladan’s eye.  “I know now, why you do what you do, Elladan.  I understand my own role in all of this.  I love you, more than I know how to explain.  But I no longer need your protection, gwannig nín.  I am grown, I am strong in my own right, and I am finally ready to release you from the burden you have carried for so long.”

Elladan opened his mouth to protest and Elrohir stopped his lips with his own.  “Elladan,” he began again, “you have not hurt me, you have not damned me.  I could have gotten away from you that night by the lake, I could have said no, but I did not.  You are not responsible for anything other than showing me the truth, for showing me that we belong to each other.  I beg you, muindor, release the burden you carry, do not continue to blame yourself for the choice we both made.  I love you, Elladan, and I would have it no other way.”

Elladan buried his face in his twin’s hair and whispered, “Oh, Elrohir, I love you so.”

Elrohir smiled and whispered in return, “Melon lle, Elladan.”

They settled into one another’s arms and slept well into the morning.

Chapter 7

Erestor passed a blushing maid as he made his way back to his room, carrying the tray laden with food for Galathil. By the way she avoided his gaze and rushed past him, he had no doubt she had been in his room, most likely to make up the bed. A smile curved his lips at the thought of her shock at seeing the son of her King, naked and bound, in the middle of his bed, and he wondered what state he would find the Prince in when he finally returned. 

He pushed his door open and closed it behind him, setting the tray on the table, before turning his attention to the bed. 

Galathil was curled into a tight ball, hiding as much of his body as possible. His face was pressed against his knees, his arms pulled tightly behind him. It could not be a comfortable position, and Erestor felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the arrogant Prince. 

Sighing, he crossed the room and gently laid his hand on Galathil’s hair.

“I brought you something to eat,” Erestor said quietly. 

Galathil lifted his head, and the Noldo saw tears of shame and humiliation in his lovely eyes. He also saw a flash of anger in their depths, though it was brief. 

Erestor smiled gently at him, and reached up to untie his hands. His nimble fingers made quick work of the knots, and he heard a soft sigh of relief from Galathil when his hands were finally freed.

Galathil did not look at him as he worked the circulation back into his hands, and Erestor hid his smile. He could practically feel the waves of anger rolling off the Sinda Prince. 

“Hungry?” Erestor asked mildly, rising from the bed to retrieve the tray he had brought.

“No.” The reply was sullen.

He smirked, setting the tray carefully on the bedside table. He settled himself comfortably next to Galathil, noting that the Prince was still avoiding his gaze.

“You have a choice,” Erestor said evenly. “You can eat the food I brought for you, or you can go hungry. However, I must tell you that if you choose the latter, there will be no lunch or dinner for you either. If you insist on behaving like an elfling, I will treat you as one.”

Galathil’s head whipped around as he stared at Erestor. “I am not behaving like an elfling,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “The maid saw me like this. It will be all over the hall by this afternoon. Everyone will know.”

Erestor lifted an eyebrow. “So? What does that have to do with eating the food I brought for you?”

The Prince stiffened. “You cannot treat me like this.”

The other eyebrow joined the first. “Treat you like what?” Erestor asked patiently.

“Like I am nothing!” Galathil sputtered angrily.

Erestor nodded, his lips curving into a smile. “You do not like being treated as though you were less than worthy of my affections?”

“No!”

“Ah,” Erestor replied, his smile was mocking. “Yet you saw nothing wrong with treating Elladan and Elrohir in the same fashion.”

Galathil stared at him a moment, confusion written on his lovely face.

“You would not even consider the Peredhil worthy of your attentions, is that not right?” Erestor continued, inwardly amused by the expression on the Prince’s face. “It is not a good feeling, is it, Prince? To be treated as though you were less.”

“No,” Galathil finally answered. “It is not.”

Erestor saw his shoulder’s slump as the anger left him, though he wondered if Galathil truly understood what he was trying to teach him. 

“Come,” he said quietly, stroking the long, blonde hair tenderly away from Galathil’s face. “You are hungry, no doubt. It is hard to think on an empty stomach.” He was surprised when the Prince leaned into his touch, but the reaction pleased him. 

Galathil reached for the piece of fruit that Erestor offered him and ate it, the juice dripping down his fingers. When he went to lick them, Erestor caught his hand, and brought it to his mouth. Slowly, teasingly, he licked the juice from Galathil’s fingers, smiling at the Prince’s quiet gasp.

Still smiling, he handed Galathil a biscuit drizzled with honey. When the Prince had finished eating it, he leaned forward, running his tongue over Galathil’s lips to catch the drops of honey still clinging to them. 

The Prince remained still, though his eyes closed at Erestor’s touch. He opened his mouth, allowing Erestor’s tongue to slip inside, and the Noldo tasted his sweetness. With a quiet groan, Erestor drew Galathil into his arms, cradling his body against him. 

He fed him a ripe slice of melon, and licked the juice from his lips. He smeared honey on his fingertips and ran them across Galathil’s lower lip, then sucked the sweet, stickiness clean. He held a blackberry between his fingers and pressed it slowly between Galathil’s lips, then gathered the juice from the corners of his mouth with his tongue. With each action, each caress, Galathil’s body trembled, and he could feel the hard press of his arousal against his leg. 

Erestor smiled and glanced at the tray. With the exception of a few crumbs and smears of honey, the tray was empty.  He turned his attention to Galathil once more, running his hands slowly over his shoulders and down his chest. His fingertips lightly brushed over the pale, rose colored nipples and he felt them harden beneath his touch. 

Galathil gasped quietly when Erestor bent his head down, running the tip of his tongue over one hardened peak. His gasp turned to a full-fledged groan when Erestor’s fingers found the other nipple and rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger. 

He lifted his head and smiled at the Prince. “I think I could get used to seeing you this way: naked and wanting,” he crooned softly. “It suits you.”

Galathil’s cheeks colored, but he did not resist when Erestor pushed him gently back against the mattress. The elf lord straddled his chest, his nimble fingers unfastening the ties to his leggings and freeing his member. He rose to his knees, and without being asked, Galathil opened his mouth. His hands reached up and grasped Erestor’s hips, guiding him forward until he could wrap his lips around the length of flesh in front of him. 

Erestor’s head fell back on his shoulders as he gripped the headboard. He rocked his hips slowly, and allowed Galathil to guide his movements. Soft whimpers of need escaped the Prince even as he worked Erestor’s length with his lips and tongue. The sounds combined with the delicious friction of warmth and wetness drove Erestor over the edge quickly. With a low growl, he came, spilling his seed into Galathil’s throat, watching as the Prince struggled to swallow. 

A pleased smile curved Erestor’s mouth as he pulled away, sliding his body next to Galathil’s. “You learn quickly, Prince,” he said quietly. He ran his fingers down Galathil’s chest and lightly across his throbbing length, catching the drops of moisture that leaked from the tip with his fingers. He brought them to his lips and licked them clean with a hum of pleasure. 

Galathil looked at him with open hunger. “Please, my Lord.”

Erestor kissed him tenderly. “Patience, my Prince,” he whispered, chuckling at Galathil’s plaintive moan.  He rose from the bed, retying the laces to his leggings. 

“Come, it is time for you to get dressed and greet your father and brother. Elladan and Elrohir have promised to give your father a demonstration of their skills with the sword. I am eager to see how your skill compares with theirs.”

< > < > < >

Elladan and Elrohir were summoned to Thranduil’s study during the noon hour.  Upon arriving, they found Legolas was there as well.  The twins smiled warmly at their hosts, bestowing kisses to both father and son before sitting in the high-backed chairs across the desk from Thranduil.  Legolas stood beside his father with his hand resting upon the King’s shoulder.

Thranduil laid his hands upon the desk and began.  “I have summoned you here because we share a similar dilemma.  I have received a missive from the Lady Galadriel inquiring about the progress the two of you have made in courting my sons.”  He glanced up at Legolas and smiled before returning his bright blue gaze to the twins.  “It seems the Lady is quite determined to see a match made between the two of you and the Princes of my realm.  The four of us know that a true bond cannot be formed between the two of you and Legolas and Galathil, as your hearts belong to one another, as Legolas’ heart belongs to me and mine to him.”

Elladan rose from his chair and began pacing the room.  “She will not let it rest!  Why can she not leave us alone?”

Elrohir rose as well and tried to calm his twin.  “Elladan, muindor, please…”

Thranduil addressed the twins.  “Indeed, she will not let it rest.  If a match is not made here, she will pursue others until the two of you either confess your love for one another or choose mates.”  He sighed.  “Even if you do confess, I fear that will drive her to more extreme measures.”

Elladan wheeled around.  “You do not think she would separate us?  Force us to be apart?”

Thranduil sat back in his chair and sighed.  “Her kindred have suffered long through the ages.  It is out of love that she does this, Elladan.  She does not wish you harm, but she worries about what will happen if her fears are realized.  She suspects that the bond you two share is more than what it appears, otherwise she would not be so bent on seeing the two of you married.”  He glanced back at Legolas and smiled again.  “But, I do believe I have a solution to this dilemma.”

Elrohir looked at Thranduil and answered, “What, my Lord?  We will do anything to keep from being parted or hurting our loved ones.”

Thranduil rose from his chair and rounded the desk as Legolas followed.  “I propose a match be made, though not the match she seeks.”

Elladan furrowed his brow and turned to face the King.  “What match, my Lord?”

Legolas smiled and stepped forward to address the twins.  “A match between your brother and me, and you and my father.”

A sly grin began to spread across Elrohir’s face when Thranduil continued.

“I will take you, Elladan, as my mate, as Legolas takes Elrohir.  This match will of course be for convenience.  You and Elrohir are free to love one another, to live in my realm without fear of being caught or judged.  This match will afford Legolas and me to be together as well.”

Legolas caressed Elrohir’s face.  “It would not be entirely false, as I have grown to care about both of you, as has my father.  In public, we would be the picture of bonded bliss, loving, doting, devoted to one another.  However, in private, we would be free to lie in the arms of the ones we love, without fear of judgment.”

Elladan stood and looked at his twin, temporarily stunned that Thranduil and Legolas would make such an offer.  Then, a sly grin began to curve his lips and he nodded.  “Yes!  That is perfect!”  He approached Thranduil and wrapped his arms around the King’s waist.  “Pretending would not be so hard,” he said coyly.  “As I do find your majesty passing fair and a wonderful lover.”

Elrohir trailed his fingers along one of Legolas’ braids.  “To have a “mate” as beautiful as the Prince of Mirkwood would indeed be a great honor.”  He looked over his shoulder at Elladan.  “To share our lives with the two of you would be an adventure to say the least.”

Thranduil chuckled heartily and pressed his lips to Elladan’s forehead before answering, “I think it is Legolas and I that are in for the adventure, pen rhovan.”  He released the elder twin and placed his arm back around Legolas as Elladan and Elrohir moved to embrace one another.  “Well then, it appears we have a solution.  I will make the announcement at dinner this evening.  I suspect Glorfindel and Haldir will be quite surprised.  We will have word sent to your parents and the Lord and Lady of the Wood post haste and begin planning the bonding ceremony.”  He pressed a gentle kiss to his son’s head and smiled.  “Now, Glorfindel and Haldir will surely be wondering where the two of you are.  I suggest we begin our ruse by meeting them on the training grounds.  I seem to remember talk of sword play last night?”

The twins burst into laughter and nodded.  “Aye, that you did, my Lord,” Elladan answered.

Elrohir chimed in, “We would be happy to demonstrate our skills, if your majesty so desires it.”

Thranduil guided the twins to the door and playfully slapped both of their backsides as he ushered them into the hall.  “Now go, you miscreants.  My son and I will join you on the training grounds after the midday meal.”

He closed the door behind them, smiling at their laughter as they made their way down the hall.  He turned to Legolas and smiled.  “’Tis a strange fate that has befallen us, Iôn,” he said gently.  “To lose my heart to one who came from my own loins.”

Legolas gently shook his head.  “Nay, ‘tis not strange, Ada.  I have loved you all my life.  I believe I was sent here for you, that this was meant to be.”

Thranduil embraced his son, whispering against his forehead.  “You must be right, Legolas, “ he answered softly.  “For in all my life, I have never loved another as I love you.”

Father and son left the study and made their way arm in arm down the hall, separating as they stepped into the public corridors. 

< > < > < >

Elladan smiled warmly as he and Elrohir met Glorfindel, Haldir, Erestor, and Galathil on the training grounds.  He cocked his head slightly as he regarded the elder Prince, thinking that there was definitely something different about him since he saw him last.

“Mae Govannen,” he said warmly, nodding at each of them.

Glorfindel regarded Elladan with a slightly skeptical gaze.  “Mae Govannen, Elladan, Elrohir.  Where have the two of you been?  We missed you at breakfast this morning.”

Legolas approached Elrohir from behind and wrapped his arms around him peeking over his shoulder and answering the warrior.  “That is my fault, Lord Glorfindel.  I am afraid I was reluctant to release Elrohir.”

Thranduil stepped next to Elladan, caressing the Peredhil’s cheek with the back on one hand.  “As I was reluctant to release Elladan, charmed as I was by him.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened and Haldir coughed and poked the warrior in the back.  “Do you mean to say, my Lord, that Elladan spent the night in your company?” Glorfindel asked.

Thranduil slid his arm around Elladan’s waist and pulled him close.  “Aye, that is what I mean to say.  He is enchanting indeed, and I was no less surprised than you are, Glorfindel.”

Elladan wrapped his arms around Thranduil’s waist.  “I have come to appreciate the company of the King, Glorfindel,” he said to the dumb-struck Vanya.  “We spent a fair amount of time getting to know one another last night, and we plan to come to know one another better as our visit progresses.”

Glorfindel smiled and bowed his head slightly.  “Pardon, my Lord.  But I would like a word with Elladan, if I may.”

Thranduil smiled and released Elladan.  “Certainly, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel took Elladan by the elbow and drug him away from the group.  Elrohir watched out of the corner of his eye while bestowing kisses and caresses to Legolas.

Erestor smirked and eyed the King with a knowing smile, which Thranduil returned with equal measure.  

Glorfindel grasped Elladan by the arms and spun him around.  “Just what do you think you are doing?” he barked.

Elladan furrowed his brow and replied with no small measure of feigned innocence.  “What do you mean, Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel narrowed his gaze and grumbled, “You know what I speak of, Elladan.  You were not brought here to seduce Thranduil, you were brought here to see if a match could be made between you and one of his sons!”

Elladan smiled and replied, “I know why I was brought here, Glorfindel.  Naneth and Adar seem to feel that Elrohir and I are too wild and need someone to tame us.  You should know that this is no easy task, and frankly, Galathil was not up to the challenge.  It seems in everyone’s efforts to see Elrohir and I brought to heel, I have ended up in the arms of Thranduil, who has done exactly what everyone seems to think was needed.”  He took a deep breath and shot a smoldering glance at the King over Glorfindel’s shoulder.  “I am content in his arms, Glorfindel, I need no other.”

Glorfindel looked back at the Mirkwood King, heeding the amorous glance he was giving the Peredhil, and turned back to Elladan.  “I hope you know what you are doing, Elladan.  Thranduil is not one to be trifled with.  He knows more and sees more than anyone save your father and the Lady Galadriel.  If you are up to tricks, he will crush you like a moth.”

Elladan smiled sweetly at Glorfindel.  “I do not know what you could be referring to, Glorfindel.  I am up to no tricks, I assure you.”

The warrior released him and growled low as Elladan returned to the arms of Thranduil.  Glorfindel returned to Haldir’s side and forced a smile as Thranduil addressed them.

“Come, my son wishes to spar with the twins and Galathil.  Let us elders sit and watch, shall we?”  Thranduil held out his hand and guided Glorfindel, Haldir, and Erestor to sit on a low wall nearby.  

Glorfindel sat next to Haldir, who leaned over and whispered in his ear, “What has happened, meleth?”

Glorfindel shook his head and answered quietly, “It appears that Elladan is quite smitten with Thranduil, or so he says.  I just hope he is not up to games.”

Haldir glanced at the King who was conversing with Erestor.  “I join you in that hope, a’maelamin.  For if he is, he will learn a hard lesson.”

Erestor sat next to Thranduil and leaned over to speak softly in the King’s ear.  “Your son is a fast learner, my Lord.”

Thranduil smiled and nodded.  “Aye, faster than I was, I hope.”

Erestor smiled.  “He has not the stubborn streak you had when you were sent to me, my Lord.  He merely needed a little guidance, he has learned well thus far.”

Thranduil patted the Counselor on the knee.  “I am glad to hear it, Lord Erestor.  Though I am sure his lessons are far from over.”  Thranduil observed the amorous glance his eldest shot the Counselor and chuckled.  “Ai, I fear he is smitten with his tutor, Erestor.”

Erestor smiled and mumbled in reply, “I may be a bit smitten myself…”

Thranduil leaned over and replied, “I am sorry?  I did not hear what you said.”

Erestor cleared his throat and responded, “It will pass, my Lord.  You remember how you once looked at me?”

Thranduil smiled broadly and nodded.  “Aye, that I do… that I do.”

Galathil and Legolas teamed up against the twins, sparing with training swords and in hand to hand.  With swords, they were evenly matched; each bout was a draw.  When it came time for hand to hand, however, Galathil was in for a bit of a surprise.

Legolas grunted as he landed squarely upon his back, Elrohir pinning him quickly to the ground.  He flushed and smiled wickedly as he felt the Peredhil’s arousal press against his own.  “Ai, Elrohir, are you trying to undo me in front of my father?”

Elrohir grinned and dipped his head to whisper in Legolas’ ear.  “Perhaps I am, bain nín.”

Legolas laughed wickedly and thrust his hips up into Elrohir’s.  “Then stop playing and do it, pen rhovan.”

Elrohir shook his head slightly and growled, “You do tempt me, Legolas.  I remember all too well how good you felt writhing beneath me.”

Legolas purred, “And I remember how good you felt as I rode your body to my completion, your deep moans echoing in my ears.”

Elrohir’s face hovered over Legolas’.  “Ai, rwalaer, if you keep talking like that, I may take you here and now.”

Legolas arched again, straining against Elrohir’s grip, but not enough to break free.  “Promises, promises, Elrohir.”

Galathil was pinned face down, Elladan’s hands holding his wrists as his fingers clawed at the ground.  The Peredhil dipped his mouth to his ear and whispered, “You struggle so delightfully, Galathil.“ He took a deep breath as the Sinda’s backside gyrated against his burgeoning arousal.  “If I were not so taken with your father, I would…”

Galathil’s own words were a shock to his ears.  “I belong to another, you cannot have what you wish of me, Peredhil.  Perhaps my brother is weak enough to fall for one of your kind, but I am not.”

Elladan smirked as he glanced up at Thranduil.  “So my ‘kind’ as you put it, is good enough for your brother, and good enough for your father, but not good enough for you?”

Galathil growled and renewed his struggle.  “I know not why Legolas falls for your brother, but my father falls for no one.  He is merely playing with you, Elladan, and when he is finished, he will cast you aside without a second thought!”

Elladan smiled and brushed his lips along the curve.  “We will see, pen rhovan, we will see.”  He rose off the struggling Sinda and brushed the sand from his leggings.

Thranduil clapped and rose from his place on the wall.  “Well done, lirimaer, well done.”

Elladan bowed and winked at the King as Galathil rose to his feet and grumbled.  Erestor caught the elder Prince by the elbow and said quietly, “It appears our lessons are not finished.”

Galathil blushed bright red and bowed his head.  “I know not what you mean, my Lord.”

Erestor tugged him from the training grounds toward his chamber.  “Oh, I think you do.”

Glorfindel rose to his feet and furrowed his brow.  Haldir leaned forward and whispered, “What was that about, meleth?”

Glorfindel looked back at his lover and smiled wryly.  “Oh, I do believe we have discovered the reason for Erestor’s chipper mood this morning.”

Haldir snorted and shook his head.  

Elladan slid his arms around Thranduil’s waist and pressed a lingering kiss upon the King’s lips.  “I am afraid your eldest does not approve of our relationship, meleth nín.”

Thranduil nuzzled Elladan’s ear and softly replied, “Galathil has much to learn, and I have found him the perfect teacher.”

Elladan laughed softly.  “Indeed, Erestor is a stern task master.  If he can not learn from him, he will learn from no one.”

Legolas nipped at Elrohir’s lower lip, chuckling at the low groan that issued from him.  “Shall we lie here all day, or shall we retire to your bedchamber?”

Elrohir heard Glorfindel clear his throat and he reluctantly rose from his place atop Legolas, offering the Prince his hand.  Legolas rose from the ground gracefully and bowed to Elrohir before wrapping his arms around the younger twin’s waist and placing a soft kiss upon his lips.

Glorfindel addressed Thranduil.  “Well, it appears things have turned out differently than I had anticipated.  However, Elrohir and Legolas seem to be quite fond of one another.”

Haldir nodded and bumped the Vanya from behind.  “Quite fond indeed.”

Thranduil smiled as he held Elladan close.  “Yes, Elrohir makes my son very happy,” he answered quietly.  He then turned to the two warriors.  “Perhaps the two of you would grace us with a demonstration of your fighting abilities?”

Haldir snorted again as Glorfindel reached behind him and got a firm grip on the Silvan’s crotch, causing Haldir to gasp quietly.  “I am afraid Haldir and I do not share the same fighting style, my Lord.  He is primarily an archer where as I am a swordsman.”

Thranduil nodded, noting the strained expression on Haldir’s face.  “Yes, I understand,” he replied, barely able to contain the laughter that threatened to rise to the surface.  “I would imagine that you would come out on top more often than not, Glorfindel.”

Before the surprised Vanya could reply, he turned back to Elladan.  “Come, melethron, let us get you into a bath before our evening meal.”

Elladan purred, “Yes, let us do that.”  His hand wandered down to cup Thranduil’s backside as they departed the training grounds.

Legolas slipped from Elrohir’s grasp and began walking quickly toward his quarters.  “I am willing to bet that I can beat you back to my room, lirimaer.”

Elrohir raised one eyebrow and smiled.  “Oh really?  Well, we will just have to see about that.”  He took off after Legolas as the Prince bolted through the doorway.

Glorfindel felt Haldir’s hand grip his wrist.

“Do you plan on releasing me soon, Glorfindel?” The marchwarden asked through clenched teeth.

Glorfindel released him and hooked one ankle behind Haldir’s, quickly forcing him to his back in the sand.  “Not just yet, melethron,” he growled playfully.

Chapter 8

Galathil heard the lock slide home on Erestor’s door with a resounding click. The sound made him shiver, as did the heat in the Noldo’s eyes when he turned to look at him.

He did not understand it, this craving that filled him for Erestor’s touch. The elf lord had done things to him and made him do things that he had never done before. He had never willingly submitted to another’s will in such a manner. Yet as Erestor stripped his velvet robes from his shoulders and laid them across the back of a chair, Galathil could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else but here, in Erestor’s rooms, awaiting the next lesson his tutor would impart. 

He watched Erestor’s graceful fingers as they undid the buttons at the cuffs of his tunic, and swallowed. He remembered the feel of those long, slender fingers inside of him, stroking him, until he was consumed by his need. Gradually, he became aware of Erestor’s fixed regard, and lifted his head to meet the elf lord’s dark and burning gaze. 

“Disrobe, Prince,” Erestor commanded softly. 

Galathil’s fingers fumbled over the ties of his clothing as he hastily complied. His arousal swelled and hardened beneath Erestor’s watching eyes as his leggings were discarded, cast aside without a thought. He straightened, trembling slightly as those dark eyes continued to move over his body, appraising him with a thoroughness that was unnerving.

“Proud, stubborn princeling,” Erestor murmured, moving closer to run his fingers over Galathil’s bared flesh. The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the hardened peaks of Galathil’s nipples, eliciting a soft gasp. His hands swept over his lean chest and downward, carefully avoiding the Prince’s obvious arousal to explore the soft and sensitive flesh where his thigh met with his hip. “It would take weeks to train you properly, time I regretfully do not have.” His fingertips traced the smooth curve of Galathil’s buttocks, before pinching the soft flesh lightly. His fingers parted the yielding flesh, and brushed teasingly over the small puckered opening, slightly swollen from the morning’s activities. 

His breath caught when Erestor touched his opening, and his arousal throbbed in response. It took all his will not to press himself against the sleek body that stood mere inches away, not to grind his hips against Erestor’s and seek his relief.

As if sensing Galathil’s thoughts, Erestor drew back slightly, and resumed his exploration of the Prince’s chest. He pinched one rosy colored nipple, watching the myriad of expressions cross Galathil’s fair face.

“Oh yes,” Erestor crooned, pinching the nipple again a little more forcefully. “I would teach you such things you cannot even begin to imagine, pen-neth.” 

Galathil’s breath came out in a slow hiss when Erestor’s tongue soothed the sting from his nipple. His fists clenched tight as he struggled not to moan, to plead with the elf lord to stop toying with him and take him now. 

“On your knees, by the fire, Prince.” Erestor stepped away, gesturing to the soft rug.

He knelt, his backside resting against his heels, and looked up at Erestor expectantly.  

Erestor smiled down at him, his hands reaching up to cradle his face. “Normally I would not introduce this next lesson so soon to a pupil as new and untried as you. But, as I have said, I do not have the time to draw this out.” His fingers swept up the sides of Galathil’s face to trace the graceful tips of the Prince’s ears. A soft, trembling groan escaped his pupil, and his smile widened. “Your pride is a dangerous thing, Prince. It makes you weak, easily stirred to anger.” His thumb and fingers rubbed the tips gently, sliding up and down the delicate points. The Prince whimpered, and the plaintive noise pleased him. “Pride in one’s accomplishments and heritage is acceptable, Galathil,” Erestor continued. “Refusing to acknowledge that others are your equal is another. You are no better than those you disdain, Prince.” His fingers continued their ministrations, and he heard Galathil’s breath quicken. “And that is the lesson I will teach you this day.”  Galathil’s whimper of disappointment when Erestor’s fingers left his ears was pleasing as well.  He placed his fingers beneath the Prince’s chin and lifted his face, holding his gaze with his own. “You will learn, pen-neth.”

Galathil felt the loss of Erestor’s touch keenly. He blinked, unable to look away from that dark gaze. His whole body burned with need.

“I will leave you for the moment to think about my words. When I return, the lesson will begin. Are you ready?” Erestor asked softly, his thumb brushing over Galathil’s lower lip.

He shook his head and took a deep, trembling breath. “No, my lord,” he answered. “I will try, however, to please you.”

Erestor smiled gently. “You please me very much, Galathil,” he murmured. 

An expression so fleeting that Galathil almost missed it crossed his face before Erestor turned away. He heard a drawer being opened, and the soft rustle of silk, before the elf lord turned back, his expression as unreadable as before.

Galathil had no thought to protest when Erestor bound his wrists behind him using a length of silken rope. He did not question the reason for it, for he knew that Erestor’s answer would be the same as before. “Because it pleases me, Prince. That is all you need to know.” Gentle hands brushed his hair away from his face, tucking the blonde strands behind his ears. 

“Wait here, just as you are,” Erestor commanded quietly. He made as if to leave, and then paused. Galathil was looking up at him, painfully aroused, his fair skin beautifully flushed. His hand reached out and cradled the Prince’s jaw as he bent his head, brushing his lips lightly over Galathil’s. 

The touch of Erestor’s lips against his was all too brief, and he bit back the sigh that rose within him as the elf lord turned and left him. 

< > < > <>

Haldir’s back impacted with the soft sand and his breath left him in a startled gasp. He glared up at Glorfindel, who looked quite pleased with himself. 

“What are you doing?” he growled, trying to rise, only to find himself effectively pinned by Glorfindel as the Vanya nipped playfully at his ears.

“I am making love to you,” Glorfindel purred, running his tongue teasingly over a pointed tip. 

Haldir struggled weakly beneath Glorfindel’s weight, succeeding in little more than bringing their arousals together in breathtaking contact. “Ai! Here?” he asked breathlessly.

“Here, there, anywhere, my delectable and highly desirable marchwarden,” Glorfindel purred, burying his face in the curve of Haldir’s neck. He felt Haldir’s hips shift beneath him and he groaned softly. “I cannot seem to get enough of you.”

“Someone could see us.” Haldir’s protests were half-hearted as Glorfindel’s fingers delved beneath the waist of his leggings to grasp his arousal. 

Glorfindel chuckled wickedly. “All the more fun, do you not think?” He raised his head and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “The thrill of getting caught?”

Haldir groaned. “You are mad, Vanya. We will cause a diplomatic incident. I will never be able to show my face in Lórien or Imladris again.” He closed his eyes as Glorfindel’s hand began to work his length in smooth and familiar strokes. “Ai! Glorfindel!”

“Haldir!” Glorfindel returned with a grin. “I want to see you,” he purred. “I want to see you come for me, Haldir, right here, on the sands of this arena.”

Haldir moaned, his hips rising in rhythm to meet Glorfindel’s strokes upon his arousal. “What is this fascination you have with having your hand down my leggings?” he managed through clenched teeth.

Glorfindel silenced him effectively with a kiss, swallowing his soft moans until the need for air forced them apart.  Haldir’s breath came faster as his lover’s hand brought him closer to completion. 

“That is it, my love,” Glorfindel whispered. “You are so beautiful when you are lost to me this way.” 

Haldir arched beneath him and cried out softly, and Glorfindel felt the warmth of his release cover his hand. He continued to stroke him, milking every last drop from his lover’s quivering body until Haldir’s hands batted at him weakly.  He slid his hand carefully out of its warm and delightful place and brought it to his lips, licking the drops of Haldir’s essence from his skin. 

Haldir lay back against the sand, struggling to regain his composure. What was it about the Balrog slayer that made him lose all sense of propriety and decorum? He was the Marchwarden of Lothlórien, not some untried elfling who could not control himself! Yet that was exactly how he felt around Glorfindel. He was not certain the thought made him happy. 

“What is it?” Glorfindel asked quietly, seeing Haldir frown.

He sat up, grimacing at the wet stain that had spread across the front of his leggings, and wrapped his arms around his knees. 

“You are angry with me.” Glorfindel looked surprised.

Haldir looked at him, flinching at the hurt look on his lover’s face. “I am not angry, Glorfindel,” he said finally, searching for the right words to explain the way he felt. “But I do not like what just happened.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “You seemed to enjoy it well enough,” he replied stiffly. 

“That is not what I meant,” Haldir said, frowning. He sighed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I do not know how to say what I mean.”

“I think I know what it is you mean,” Glorfindel said, rising to his feet. His expression was closed, carefully controlled. He turned to leave when Haldir’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Wait, Glorfindel,” Haldir said, swallowing. “Please.”

Glorfindel waited, hating to see the unhappiness Haldir’s eyes. He wanted nothing more than to drop to the sand beside him, and pull him into his arms, to comfort him until that look was gone. His pride would not allow it, so he settled for waiting to see what Haldir would say.

Haldir struggled. It was not easy for him to speak so openly, to hold his heart out for another in such a fashion. He took a deep breath and tugged Glorfindel down until the warrior sat on the sand beside him. He reached for Glorfindel’s hand, linking their fingers together tightly. He silently contemplated their intertwined fingers as he searched for the right words to say, words that would not build an impenetrable wall of coldness between himself and his lover. Gentle fingers touched his face and he lifted his gaze.

“Tell me what it is, Haldir,” Glorfindel whispered. “Say it badly, or say it not at all. I cannot bear to see you unhappy, especially if I am the cause.”

Haldir managed a faint smile. “We are a sight, are we not? Two proud warriors, brought low by their fear of giving too much.”

“I do not have that fear, meleth nín,” Glorfindel said gently. “All that I am is yours. That you have accepted me, loved me, is a gift I treasure more than my life. I can be myself with you – not the Seneschal, not the Balrog Slayer, not the head of the House of the Golden Flower. With you, I am simply Glorfindel, the elf who loves you with every fiber of his being.”

Haldir blinked, his eyes blurring suddenly with emotion. “I think then, you have given me the words I was searching for.” He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on Glorfindel’s. “I have always been Haldir, Marchwarden of the Golden Woods, the Captain of the Galadhrim, servant of the Lord and Lady. I do not know how to be simply Haldir, the elf who loves Glorfindel with his very heart and soul.”

Glorfindel’s other hand tenderly brushed away the single tear that had fallen from his eyes. “The question, meleth nín, is whether or not you want to be.”

Haldir leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. “I lose myself with you. You make me forget everything – who I am – when I am with you. When I am with you, there is only you, and nothing else.”  Glorfindel’s soft chuckle made him open his eyes.

“Do you not think it is the same with me?” Glorfindel asked, his eyes bright as he laughed softly. “Oh, Haldir, hûn nín.” He shook his head, pulling Haldir into his lap and wrapping his arms around the archer. “I forget at times you are not as old as I.”  He pressed his lips against his lover’s ear, contentment filling him. “You make me feel the same, meleth. With you, it is as if I am an elfling all over again, trying my best to please. When I am with you, there is nothing else in this world that matters.”  He turned Haldir slightly in his arms so that he could see his face. “Do not be afraid, meleth nín. You will always be Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, even when you are simply Haldir with me.”

Relieved by his lover’s words and confession, he leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Glorfindel’s. “Melon lle, Glorfindel. I am sorry.”

Glorfindel returned his kiss gently, but with enough passion behind it to make Haldir gasp. “Melon lle, Haldir. Do not be sorry.” A smile curved his generous mouth. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

A playful smile bloomed across Haldir’s face. “Still, I feel I must make it up to you,” he said with mock seriousness.

A dark golden eyebrow arched gracefully. “Oh?” Glorfindel asked innocently. “What ever did you have in mind?”

Haldir pressed his lips to Glorfindel’s ear and told him exactly what it was he had in mind.

Glorfindel’s wicked and delighted laughter filled the arena.

< > < > <>

Galathil heard the door being opened and looked up from his knees, swallowing in apprehension and anticipation as Erestor stepped through the entrance. His anticipation wavered and his apprehension grew when he saw that the Noldo was not alone. Elladan and Elrohir entered the room behind him, followed by his Adar and Legolas. His face burned and he looked away, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.  It was not enough that his father and brother were witness to his humiliation; that the Peredhil were there as well galled him more than he could bear.

Thranduil took in the sight of his son kneeling on the floor, naked and bound and shook his head.  It appeared Galathil's lessons were going much like his own once did.

Elladan and Elrohir fought to hide the rapidly growing smirks on their faces and Elrohir glanced over his shoulder when he heard Legolas' quiet gasp of surprise.

Not knowing what was happening or what had transpired before they arrived, Legolas moved to help his elder brother and Thranduil grasped his arm and slowly shook his head.  "Wait, Greenleaf, there is a reason for this," he said softly.

Erestor nodded, giving Legolas a faint smile. "Your brother has given his consent to be my pupil, Prince Legolas. I have not harmed him. When my instruction has been completed, he will be much improved."  He moved to Galathil's kneeling form, sliding his hand over his bare shoulder to lightly grasp the back of his neck. 

Galathil struggled not to tremble, his skin tingling where Erestor's hand touched him. His whole body was flushed with his humiliation, but he could not hide the obvious signs of his arousal.  Even now, he could not hide how much he wanted the Noldo. 

Erestor smiled, well aware of his pupil's distress. "I have brought the four of you here to ask for your assistance in a lesson."

Thranduil moved to kneel in front of his son and turned his reddened face up so that their gazes met.  "Always the stubborn one, Galathil.  Why must you make this so hard on yourself?  Why must you always seek the more difficult path, Iôn?"

Galathil swallowed, tears of shame blurring his vision as he struggled to answer his father's gently spoken question.

Thranduil caressed his son's cheek and placed a soft kiss upon his forehead.  "You will learn, Galathil, as surely as I once did myself."

Erestor cleared his throat quietly.  "With your permission, My Lord, Prince Legolas, I would like Elladan and Elrohir to lend their assistance with this lesson."

Galathil trembled anew at Erestor's words and bowed his head, staring at his knees. 

Thranduil turned his gaze to Erestor and smiled gently.  "It would be too difficult for Galathil for me to be present.  I give my consent, but I must not stay."  He then turned his gaze to Legolas.  "Whether or not you stay, Greenleaf, is up to you."

Galathil stilled, holding his breath in anticipation of his brother's answer. He did not know what would be worse, having Legolas witness his ultimate humiliation at the hands of the Peredhil, or leaving him alone with them.

Legolas swallowed and glanced from Erestor to his father, then to his brother, before looking at his father again.  Something told him Galathil would need him through the lesson he was about to learn.  He answered quietly, "I will stay, Adar, in case he needs me."

Thranduil smiled gently then turned back to Galathil.  "This is the hardest lesson to learn, Iôn, but it will be the one that serves you best in life.  I will be in my chamber should you wish to see me after it is done."  He rose from the floor and paused to give Legolas a kiss upon the forehead and whispered words of encouragement before leaving the room.

Erestor eyed Legolas shrewdly for a moment and then nodded, as if he had come to a decision. "You are here to observe, Prince Legolas. You are not to interfere in any way, is that understood?"

Legolas nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.

Erestor nodded again in approval, and turned his dark gaze to the twins. "You know what it is that I need from you both?" he asked quietly.

Elladan smiled wolfishly and nodded.  "Aye, Erestor.  We do."  Elrohir nodded in unison with his brother.

Elrohir cleared his throat and questioned, "Where shall we start, Erestor?  Who shall go first?"

Erestor smiled faintly, his hand tightening on the back of Galathil's neck. "The Prince." He looked down at Galathil, running his fingers beneath his chin to lift his gaze. "On your feet, Galathil," he commanded quietly.

Galathil rose to his feet unsteadily, and felt the silken rope that bound his hands fall away. He brought his hands forward, rubbing his wrists. He looked up at Erestor, and the Noldo gave him a faint nod. "Disrobe them both, Prince. Start with Elrohir."

Swallowing, Galathil moved from Erestor's side, his eyes on his feet as he moved to where the younger of the twins waited expectantly. 

"Look at him, Prince," Erestor ordered, his voice soft.

Galathil lifted his eyes slowly and met Elrohir's gaze.

Elrohir looked at Galathil kindly.  While the Prince had been arrogant, and bordering on rude, he still felt a bit of empathy for him.  Neither he nor Elladan had ever been on the receiving end of one of these lessons, but they had both been on the receiving end of many other types of lessons in humility.

"Go on, Galathil," he said softly, "I will not bite."

His fingers shook slightly as he tugged at the laces that held Elrohir's tunic, fumbling over the simple task. When he finally got them loose, he parted the fabric, and slid it from the Peredhil's shoulders. His hands shook even worse as he tried to work the lacings on Elrohir's leggings. He could see the faint outline of Elrohir's arousal pressed against the fabric, and it only made his task that more difficult. 

Erestor cleared his throat, and Galathil turned from his task to look at his tutor.

"Boots first, Prince," Erestor said mildly.

Elrohir's gaze drifted to Elladan as the Prince knelt before him to remove his boots.  Elladan smiled wickedly and Elrohir knew the Prince's task would be far more daunting where his twin was concerned.

Galathil pulled the soft leather boots from Elrohir's feet and set them carefully aside. He did not rise from his kneeling position. It was easier for him to finish his task with Elrohir's leggings from his knees, since his legs felt particularly shaky at the moment.

Elladan bent forward so that he could whisper in Galathil's ear.  "You look particularly lovely on your knees, my Prince."

He flushed crimson at Elladan’s words, biting back the response that rose to his lips. It was difficult to remember why he was willing to do this, why it was so important. He kept his eyes downcast as he slid Elrohir’s leggings over his slender hips and down his legs. He could feel the warmth emanating from the Peredhil’s body, and smell his own unique and faintly musky scent. He felt Elrohir’s fingers slide gently over his jaw and he raised his head.

“Look at him, Prince. Do not let your pride veil the truth from your eyes,” Erestor commanded quietly. “He is beautiful, is he not?”  

Galathil heard Erestor move closer, and felt the now familiar and comforting touch of his tutor’s hand on the back of his neck. 

“Look at his skin. It looks soft and smooth, perfect and unblemished.” Erestor’s lips brushed the tip of Galathil’s ear as he continued. “See the beauty of his face, Prince. His eyes, his lips.”

It was difficult to think with Erestor’s warm breath caressing his ear, but he looked as he had been commanded to look. He saw Elrohir the way Erestor saw him, and realized his tutor was right: he was beautiful. From the shimmering cloud of sable hair that crowned his head, to the gleaming pewter eyes that regarded him with a mixture of compassion and hunger. From the full, ripe lips, their shape and softness made for sinful and wicked deeds, to the lithe and well formed limbs. Even his arousal was beautiful; a smooth column of hardened flesh that seemed to grow even larger as he gazed upon it. 

“Taste him,” Erestor crooned softly. “Smell his scent.”  His lips pressed softly against Galathil’s ear. “Make him cry out in pleasure.”

Galathil leaned forward, his hands sliding up Elrohir’s well-muscled calves to grip his thighs as he pressed his cheek against his arousal, taking in his soft and musky scent. His mouth seemed to open of its own accord, and his tongue flicked out to taste the warmth of Elrohir’s skin.  

Spice, sweetness, salt.

He rolled the flavor over his tongue, tasting it, savoring it like he would a fine wine. Accepting the difference and the similarities between Elrohir and Erestor’s flavor. He did not find it lacking. He drew the hard length of flesh between his lips, curious to see how strong the flavor would become if he filled his mouth with it. He did not feel Erestor pull away. 

Lean thighs trembled slightly beneath his hands as he worked Elrohir’s length with his lips and tongue, the taste of the Peredhil filling his mouth. A soft, sweet groan rumbled from Elrohir’s chest, startling him enough that he stopped, looking up at the half-elf.

Elrohir’s eyes were closed, his luscious mouth half-open as he gasped for air, his skin beautifully flushed with arousal. 

Galathil did not think he had ever seen anything more beautiful at that moment. 

Erestor’s hand gripped the back of his neck once more, guiding him to kneel in front of Elladan before leaving him. 

“Wait,” Elrohir whispered, and Erestor released Galathil’s neck.  Elrohir guided the Prince to stand in front of him and he said softly, “Hannon lle, mellonamin.  That was lovely.”  He placed his hand on the back of Galathil’s neck and drew him in to a soft kiss, his other hand gently caressing the Prince’s hip.  The plaintive moan that escaped Galathil caused a soft answering moan of his own, then he released him after the briefest of tastes.  He heard Legolas’ soft moan drift over his shoulder and he turned to smile at his young lover.

Galathil’s head was reeling, never in his life had he felt lips so soft or a kiss so sweet.  He nearly succumbed to the urge to throw himself into Elrohir’s arms and plunge his hands into that mass of sable hair.  Then, he felt his tutor’s hand on the back of his neck once again and returned to the present.  He turned and knelt in front of Elladan, as he was guided, and Erestor’s hand left his neck.

Galathil felt bereft without that comforting touch, and trembled at Elladan’s feet.  Taking a deep breath, he reached for Elladan’s leg, lifting it so he could slide the soft, leather boot from his foot. He repeated the process with the other boot, and placed them aside where they would not be in the way. Galathil then rose to his feet, and reached for the ties of Elladan’s tunic.

“Erestor,” Elladan’s voice rumbled softly, causing Galathil to glance up from his work to his tutor. 

Erestor nodded, a small smile curving his lips. “Go ahead, Elladan. That is why you are here.”

Galathil nearly panicked when Elladan pushed his hands away, gripping the wrists tightly and pulling them behind his back. The long line of his body was pressed against Elladan’s, his back arching almost painfully as he struggled not to lose his balance. Elladan’s tunic had fallen open completely, baring the smooth skin of his chest, and it rubbed with delicious friction against Galathil’s bare skin. Elladan’s eyes closed halfway as he regarded his captive, and they glittered hungrily beneath dark lashes.

Elladan bent his head, his lips barely brushing the underside of Galathil’s jaw before his tongue flickered out to tease the sensitive skin. He pulled the Prince’s body tighter against him, and Galathil felt the press of Elladan’s arousal against his leg as his lips explored his neck, moving their way across his chin. His tongue flicked out again, warm and wet, tracing the curve of Galathil’s lower lip, before capturing it between his teeth. 

He moaned softly and was silenced when Elladan covered his mouth with his own. The tenderness of his kiss was in surprising contrast to the strength that held him captive, gripping his wrists and pressing him almost painfully against Elladan’s body. He opened his mouth under the gentle but insistent pressure of Elladan’s lips, and shuddered when he felt the warm, sweet taste of his tongue brushing against his own. Had his hands been free he would have tangled them in his soft hair, would have crushed his mouth against the softness of Elladan’s and taken his fill of it greedily. As it was, he could do nothing but surrender to the assault on his senses.  His head was spinning by the time Elladan released him, and he was gasping for breath. 

With shaking hands, he resumed his task of disrobing Elladan, his face burning from humiliation and need. 

“I would have from you what you gave my brother, Prince,” Elladan purred, pushing Galathil to his knees before him. 

He struggled silently – torn between lust and shame. They had conquered his strength of will so easily, he realized. He wanted nothing more that to take the lovely length of flesh before him into his mouth and make Elladan groan in ecstasy. Where was his pride?  Why was he kneeling before Elladan, when it should be the other way around? 

As he gazed up at the half-elf, he began to wonder if he might have been wrong about the Peredhil all along. 

Galathil pushed the thought aside. He was doing this to please Erestor, nothing more. Still he could not help the small groan of pleasure that escaped him when Elladan’s flavor filled his mouth. His hands rose of their own accord to grip the Peredhil’s buttocks as he worked him with his mouth and tongue, tasting him, swallowing his length as deeply as he was able. It took longer than it had with Elrohir, but Galathil was finally rewarded with a deep, rumbling groan for his efforts.

Legolas watched this all with half-glazed eyes, his own body responding against his will as he watched his brother take Elladan’s length into his mouth. He saw Elrohir smile at him and managed to smile weakly in return. He was grateful it was Galathil and not himself that was under scrutiny, for he did not think he would fair any better under the watchful eyes of Erestor. The elf lord himself was lounging comfortably in a large chair, his long legs splayed wide as he watched the proceedings with interest. He made no move to interfere when Elladan pulled Galathil to his feet and pushed him towards the bed.

He did not understand his brother’s reluctance when it came to the twins. They were both equally beautiful, though he was pulled towards Elrohir’s gentler nature more so than to Elladan’s more forceful one. They were both kind and generous with their friendship, and passionate by nature. Legolas could not help but blush when he recalled just how passionate Elrohir’s nature could be. 

Elrohir slid onto the bed beside Galathil and pulled him into his arms, rolling the Prince’s body so that his back was against his chest. His lips fastened on the tip of Galathil’s ear and drew it in, sucking on it and making the Sinda squirm against him. He inclined his head and reached out to Legolas, holding his hand out in silent invitation, beckoning his young lover to join him.

Legolas rose from his chair, discarding his tunic and boots, and slid onto the bed behind Elrohir, snuggling up against his lover and bringing his lips to Elrohir’s ear, mimicking Elrohir’s actions on his brother’s own ear.

Elrohir arched and moaned softly, his lips not leaving Galathil’s ear, his hands still hungrily roaming the elder Prince’s chest.

Elladan moved between Galathil’s legs and lay against him, his mouth fastening on the peak of one nipple. 

Galathil felt Elrohir’s arousal slide teasingly between his cheeks and groaned softly. Elladan’s mouth moved to his other nipple and teased it mercilessly with his tongue. Another groan escaped him when Elladan slid his arousal against his own. Their smooth skin seemed to burn against his, their lips and caresses igniting the fire within him until he was groaning softly, continuously, heedless of the soft entreating words that fell from his lips. 

Erestor watched Galathil’s lithe body undulate between Elladan and Elrohir, saw the caresses of Legolas’ long fingers upon Elrohir’s arms and shoulders, heard the moans and pleading whispers that Galathil gave as Elladan moved lower on his body. Galathil was losing the battle within him with each touch, each swipe of the tongue over a sensitive area. Bit by bit, he was becoming completely and beautifully undone. His needful cry when Elladan took his length and ran his tongue over it was most pleasing. 

Galathil whimpered softly when Elladan’s mouth left his length to travel lower. Strong hands gripped his thighs, lifting them and spreading them wide. He no longer cared. Hands were everywhere, mouths everywhere, he was no longer sure who touched him where.  He was vaguely aware that Legolas had joined them upon the bed, and he reached out blindly for him, feeling his younger brother’s strong hand capture his own.  His pride was gone. All that mattered was the soft, wet swipe of tongue against his skin, and the sweet touch of Elrohir’s mouth on his neck. His body jerked involuntarily when Elladan’s tongue touched his opening, circling the ring of flesh teasingly. 

“Saes.” The word fell pleadingly from his lips.

“What is it you need, Galathil?” Elrohir whispered, running his tongue over the curve of Galathil’s ear. He shifted his hips slightly, the tip of his arousal bumping against Elladan’s tongue as it slid between the Prince’s cheeks. He bit back the groan and met his brother’s wickedly gleaming eyes with a grin. He felt the quick, flicker of his brother’s tongue against his length before he drew away, and he heard Elladan’s quiet chuckle. 

“Do you want him?” Elrohir asked, reaching around Galathil’s chest to pinch his nipples lightly. 

Galathil arched against Elladan’s tongue, whimpering softly when it pushed its way into his body. 

“Do you want him to take you?” Elrohir asked. “Do you want to feel him inside you, filling your body with his heat?”

Legolas’ body trembled with his own need and he pressed closer against Elrohir, feeling the Peredhil’s buttocks grind against his arousal.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erestor rise from the chair, and he watched, curious and a little confused as the elf lord began to disrobe. A sharp, keening cry brought his attention back to the bed. Elladan had exchanged his tongue for a finger and was slowly thrusting it in and out of his brother’s body. Legolas felt his own body break out in a light sweat and he moaned into Elrohir’s ear.

“All you have to do is tell him and he will ease your need, Galathil,” Elrohir whispered wickedly, one hand sliding down the Prince’s flat stomach to encircle his length. “He will give you pleasure, if you simply ask for it.”

Galathil’s hips rose and fell with the slow rhythm of Elladan’s finger as it moved inside him. Elrohir’s hand did not ease his need, but only increased it. He was breathless, trembling, his limbs aching from the strain of being held for so long on the edge of release. It was too much to endure.

“Saes, Elladan.” He felt no shame in the pleading he heard in his voice. “Aníron lle. Sí, saes, take me now.”

There was no mockery or laughter in Elladan’s face as he smiled at Galathil. His eyes burned bright with hunger, but his kiss was gentle, tender even, before he withdrew completely from Galathil’s body. 

Strong yet gentle hands rolled him onto his stomach, and he felt Legolas release his hand, and then he felt Elladan and Elrohir move away. He heard the jar of salve being opened before the mattress dipped slightly as Elladan positioned himself behind him. He felt hands lifting his hips until he was kneeling, on his hands and knees. Elladan’s fingers, slippery from the salve, entered him once more and he rocked back against them, groaning softly. He was still tender, and the hands were careful in their preparation. He felt the tip of Elladan’s length press against his opening and closed his eyes. 

Though it was Elladan and Elrohir who had roused him to such a state, they were not who he truly wanted. He wished it were Erestor, not Elladan, who was preparing to take him. With his eyes closed, it was easy to pretend it was the dark-eyed beauty that was going to claim his body.  

He could not help the soft whimper that escaped him when the tip of Elladan’s length breached him. He held his breath; his body trembled as the length of hard flesh slowly entered him, impaling him, until he felt impossibly stretched. Only when Elladan was completely sheathed in his body did he let out the breath he had been holding in one long, trembling sigh.

Hands stroked his back tenderly, before wrapping around his waist and pulling him up so that he was resting against Elladan’s chest. Long, slender fingers encircled his member, stroking it slowly, until he relaxed, his body accepting the intrusion completely.

“Lesson well learned, Galathil,” Erestor’s velvet voice caressed his ear.

Galathil’s eyes flew open and he turned his head. 

Erestor smiled gently at him, stroking his hair away from his face even as his hips moved against the Prince, burying his length deeper into his body. He continued to work Galathil’s length in his fist in slow, pumping movements.

“I thought-I…” Galathil could not manage to form a coherent sentence. Erestor’s eyes glinted with amusement and unconcealed passion. 

“Be quiet, Prince,” Erestor whispered. 

Galathil managed a small smile. “Yes, my Lord.”

Chapter 9

Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas quietly left Erestor’s chambers, leaving Galathil to receive his well-earned reward in privacy.  Legolas’ head was swimming from what he witnessed, not so much from Elladan and Elrohir’s charms as from Erestor’s participation.  He had not realized the Counselor’s skills as a tutor were so far reaching.

As he walked down the hall, buttoning the last buttons on his tunic, he felt Elladan grasp his arm and stop him.  He turned and looked into the Peredhil’s eyes, seeing they were still dark with passion, and he imagined his own looked much the same.  Elladan’s fingers traced his jaw, traveling down his neck and chest to where his tunic was closed.

“I wonder,” Elladan said quietly, his voice thick with lust.  “Is our younger Prince as tasty as his brother?”  

Before Legolas could react, or Elrohir could protest, he quickly pulled the Sinda Prince into his arms and pressed a bruising kiss to his mouth.  He crushed Legolas’ lithe body against his own; vaguely hearing Elrohir’s protest as he tangled one hand in his flaxen mane and the other clasped Legolas’ buttocks.  At first, Legolas did not resist, too shocked and dazed by his own need to do anything other than yield.  But then, he heard the muffled moans of protest and felt the Prince’s lithe body begin to struggle against him, bringing back memories of Elrohir’s struggle that first night.  He reluctantly released Legolas, gasping for air as he felt the Prince shove him roughly away.  He opened his eyes and looked into Legolas’ angry, dark gaze.

“How dare you!” Legolas shouted.  “I am not some trinket you can pick up and amuse yourself with, Elladan.”

Elrohir stepped up behind Legolas and looked at his brother with a look of confusion and amazement.  “Elladan?  What were you doing?  Why…”

Elladan made no reply or excuse; other than to smile wolfishly at the younger Prince as he stormed down the hall.  He turned his gaze to his younger twin and muttered.  “Well, I suppose I am in trouble now.  He will tell his father and I will bear Thranduil’s wrath.”

Elrohir shook his head, confusion and disappointment in his eyes.  “Why did you do that, Elladan?  Legolas has never done anything to hurt you.  He has been a kind and generous friend, and yet you treat him this way.”  He turned and began to follow Legolas down the hall.

“Where are you going, Elrohir?” Elladan called after his twin.

Elrohir looked back over his shoulder.  “I am going to see to Legolas, and to apologize for your actions.”

Elladan called after him.  “You leave me for him?  You choose him over me?”  He had no reply from his brother as Elrohir ran after the Prince.  He walked back to the rooms he and Elrohir shared, alone, hurt and angry.

< > < > < >

Elrohir caught Legolas in the hall and stopped him.  “Wait, meleth, please,” he said gently.

Legolas wiped his mouth with his sleeve and glared at Elrohir.  “Why did he do that?  What have I done to him?  I did nothing to deserve that,” he answered, his voice thick with anger and hurt.

Elrohir caressed Legolas’ face and answered softly, “I know, Legolas, I know.  I am sorry, bain nín.  Sometimes Elladan does rash things, he does not think of the consequences.  His intention was not to hurt you, I can assure you of that.”

Legolas softened somewhat to Elrohir’s touch and questioned quietly, “Does he do things like that to you?”

An expression of sadness crossed Elrohir’s face for a moment before he answered, “Elladan loves me, Legolas.  Of that, I am sure, no other has loved me as much, or sacrificed as much to see me happy.  If you only knew him as I do…”

Legolas stepped back and put up his hand.  “Say no more, Elrohir.  It was an inappropriate question for me to ask, forgive me.”

Elrohir took Legolas’ hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon it.  “I am sorry, Legolas.  I do not want to see you hurt and unhappy.”

Legolas shook his head, gently pulling his hand away.  “I am not hurt, I will get over it.  I just did not expect that from him, that is all.”  He held up his hand and silenced Elrohir, “Truly, I am fine, mellon.  Now go, find your brother.  I have duties to attend to.”  He turned on his heel and left Elrohir alone in the corridor.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil sat in his study, pouring over the latest request for trade rights on the eastern boarder of his realm.  He had a pounding headache that came on suddenly, and he set down the quill and rubbed his temples.  Something was amiss; he could feel it.  He was relatively sure it was not Galathil, as he trusted Erestor implicitly.  The only other thing it could be was Legolas, and that worried him.  He sensed the presence of his youngest and looked up to see him standing in front of his desk.

“Are you all right, Ada?” Legolas asked softly.

One look at his son told him that Legolas was most certainly not all right.  He rose from his chair and quickly rounded the desk, taking his son in his arms.  “Legolas,” he said softly, caressing his face.  “What is the matter?  What has happened?”

Legolas shook his head.  “Nothing, Adar.  Just a misunderstanding, all is well now.”

Thranduil tilted his son’s chin up so their gazes met.  “What misunderstanding?  With who?  Tell me, Iôn.”

“Really, Ada.  It is nothing, I am fine.  Please, let me handle it.” He answered quietly, reaching up to caress his father’s face.  “You, however, look as though you have a headache.”  He stepped back out of his father’s embrace, clasping his hand and tugging him along with him.  “Come, let me take care of you, Ada.”

Thranduil followed his son from his library to his chamber, watching Legolas latch the door behind him.  As he saw his son turn to face him, he felt his heart skip.  The time had come, the moment he had hoped for since Legolas first made his feelings known.  He watched his son cross the room to him; the simple grace of his movements nearly broke his heart.  Legolas came to a stop in front of him, rising to the balls of his feet as he placed his hands upon his shoulders.

“Melon lle, Ada,” his deep voice whispered.

“Melon lle, Greenleaf,” Thranduil answered.

He watched Legolas’ mouth close on his own and he closed his eyes, yielding to his son’s gentle kiss.  He moaned quietly as Legolas wrapped his long arms around him, his deep, soft voice moaning, his soft lips caressing, his tongue entreating entrance into his mouth.  The first swipe of Legolas’ tongue inside his mouth set his loins on fire, and he carefully wrapped his arms around his son’s lithe body.  He took great care not to do anything other than respond to Legolas’ actions; his son needed to take the lead.  

He felt Legolas press him back toward the bed and he released him long enough to sit on its side.  His heart was bursting with love and want for the beautiful gift that was his Greenleaf. It was not until that moment that he realized it was Legolas he had waited for, Legolas he had been in love with all his life, in one way or another.

Legolas stood before his father, smiling down at him as he nudged his knees apart and placed his hands on his father’s shoulders, pushing him back to the bed. He leaned over him and placed another kiss upon his lips.  He moaned quietly as he explored Thranduil’s mouth again, he tasted so good, like vanilla and spice, sweet and intoxicating.  He came to rest atop his father’s body, kissing him slowly, savoring his scent and taste, cherishing the gift that was his Ada.  They broke from their kiss and he stared into the dark, lapis pools of his father’s eyes, eyes that had seduced and bewitched so many.  “Melon lle, Ada,” he whispered against his lips.

Thranduil pushed Legolas’ hair away from his face and smiled.  “As I love you, Iôn.  I will always love you, Legolas.  No other shall ever hold my heart.”  He saw the want in Legolas’ eyes, felt the need in his young body, and for the first time he felt a little scared.  He swallowed and asked gently, “Are you sure this is what you want, Iôn?  Once we do this, we can never go back to the way things were.”

Legolas smiled gently, feeling the need in his father’s strong body, seeing the love in his eyes, hearing it in his voice.  “Yes, Ada, I am sure.  You are the one I love, you are the one I want for all time.”

“What of Elrohir, Greenleaf?  I sensed something between you, something special,” he answered.

Legolas caressed his father’s face and answered, “I care for Elrohir, this is true.  But he is not the one I love; my heart belongs to you, Ada.  It always will.”

He lowered his head and kissed Thranduil again, tasting him, savoring him.  He moaned as his father opened his mouth wider, drawing him further in.  He felt his strong hands come to rest upon his back, caressing him, holding him ever so gently.  He always felt safe here, in his father’s arms, safe and loved beyond anything he could have ever imagined.  They broke from their kiss, each gasping for air, and Legolas watched his father succumb to the passion that built between them, saw him beautifully surrender to his touch.

His nimble fingers opened the clasps on his robes, peeling the fabric away to expose his alabaster skin.  Legolas’ hands roamed across the wide plain of his father’s chest, his fingers spread wide as he explored what lay beneath him.  He dipped his mouth to one of the rings that pierced Thranduil’s nipples, fondling it against his tongue and nipping gently with his teeth.  He smiled as his father groaned and arched beneath him, pressing his chest to his mouth.  He worked his way lower, exploring his rippled stomach and probing his navel with his tongue.  “Aníron lle, Ada,” he whispered huskily.

“Saes, Greenleaf,” Thranduil whispered, “I am yours.”

“So generous a gift,” he replied, his voice thick with lust.

“So good a son deserves so generous a gift,” Thranduil replied breathlessly.

Legolas rose from the bed and began removing his tunic and leggings, casting amorous glances at his father as he watched.  Thranduil slid free of his robes and climbed back upon the bed, anxiously awaiting his son.

Legolas climbed upon the bed, settling himself between Thranduil’s legs, his hands roaming over his father’s long thighs.  “Bainwan,” he said softly.

Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling the insistent throb of his arousal as it pulsed against his stomach.  Legolas tormented him slowly, teasing caresses with his hands and mouth, his soft breath fluttering along his length and between his legs.  He clutched the iron headboard in his hands as he moaned softly, arching and undulating beneath his son’s touch.  

He arched his back and gasped as he felt Legolas’ lips caress his heated length.  He felt as if his heart would explode from his chest as tears of love fell from his eyes.  He groaned as Legolas took him into his mouth and his son’s long fingers circled his entrance.  He whimpered when Legolas’ mouth left his length, only to moan again as he felt his tongue lathe the soft pouch that lay beneath it, then travel to his entrance, flicking against it before delving inside.

“Aiya!” he breathed, as Legolas’ tongue breached his body, and his desire climbed to new heights.  “By Elbereth, Greenleaf,” he croaked.  He heard Legolas laugh softly and felt his sweet breath flutter against his entrance.  He opened to his lover’s assault; there was nothing he would deny his love; Legolas was his reason for being.

Legolas removed his tongue and pulled back, gazing up at his father with lust glazed eyes.  He placed one finger in his mouth, wetting it thoroughly.  He saw his father nod and he placed a second one in as well, coating them as best he could before returning them to his entrance.

Thranduil cried out softly as Legolas’ fingers breached his body, tensing only for a moment before opening to him.  

Legolas rotated and scissored his fingers inside his lover’s body, crooking them as he sought that place that would send fire roaring through his veins.  He smiled as he found it and watched his father cry out and buck against his hand.  “Does that feel good, Ada?” he asked softly.

“Yes, oh yes,” Thranduil breathed.

“I want to be inside you, Ada.  Will you let me?” he asked sultrily.

“Anything, Greenleaf, you can have anything you want of me,” he answered breathlessly.

Legolas stroked his own arousal, coating it with the essence that was already leaking from the tip.  He gathered his father’s powerful thighs in his arms and positioned himself at his entrance, gazing down at his beautiful face that was so lost in passion.  He pushed inside and buried himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust, throwing his head back as he groaned.

Thranduil cried out as Legolas buried himself in his body, his breath coming in ragged waves and his skin glistening with sweat.  He was filled by one who fit perfectly inside him, and he was overcome by love.

“Oh, Ada,” Legolas whispered breathlessly, desperately trying to stave off his own release that was building rapidly inside him.  “You feel so good, so very good.”

Thranduil whispered his son’s name as he felt him move inside him.  He opened his eyes as he felt Legolas’ silken hair brush his cheek and he gazed into his son’s deep blue eyes.  “Meleth nín,” he whispered as Legolas’ lips descended upon his own.

Legolas pressed a bruising kiss to his father’s mouth, swallowing his cries of ecstasy, plundering its depths with his tongue.  He reached in between them, taking Thranduil’s silken length in his hand and stroking it in time with his thrusts.  He wanted so badly for them to find climax together, and his own was rapidly approaching.

Thranduil gasped as they broke their kiss, a deep rumbling growl coming from deep within him as he found his release and Legolas milked his essence from his body.

Legolas cried out as his own release followed immediately after, his arousal mercilessly squeezed inside the constricting passage.  He collapsed upon his father’s chest, alternating between laughing and crying, he was so overwhelmed.

Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son and stroked his hair.  “Meleth nín,” he whispered against the top of Legolas’ head.

“Seron vell,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Thranduil held his son in his arms as Legolas’ trembling subsided and he finally slipped from his body.  He gathered Legolas’ lithe body in his powerful arms and carried him to the bath, holding him in the warm water and placing gentle kisses upon his swollen lips, promising to love him for all time.

< > < > < >

Elrohir entered Elladan’s room to find him lying upon his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling.  He winced as Elladan shot him an angry look and he crossed the room to sit on the bed beside him.

“Why are you not with your young lover, gwanunig nín?” Elladan asked, anger evident in his voice.

“Because I would rather be with you, Elladan,” Elrohir answered softly.

Elladan sat up in the bed and looked at Elrohir, his gaze freezing his twin’s blood.  “I knew we should not have come here, already they have come between us, already Legolas has wrested your heart from me.”

Elrohir shook his head vigorously.  “Nay, that is not true, Elladan.  You know I love you more than anyone, I will never love another.”

“That is not how it seemed to me, Elrohir,” Elladan responded coldly, “When you left me in the hallway to run after him.  Now you are in my bed.  Did he turn you away?  Has he tired of you so soon?”

Tears pricked at Elrohir’s eyes and he looked at the bed.  “Why do you say such hurtful things to me, Elladan?”  He gasped as Elladan reached out and grabbed a handful of hair at the back of his head, turning him so that he faced him.

“Because you betrayed me, Elrohir, you chose him over me.  You were more worried about his feelings than my own,” he took a deep breath and brought his lips to Elrohir’s ear, “because you are caulen.”  He pulled Elrohir to lie on his back and covered his body with his own.  “I will suffer every moment of every day for succumbing to my desire for you,” he growled.

Tears spilled openly from Elrohir’s eyes, staining his reddened cheeks.  His lower lip trembled as he answered, “Saes, muindor, do not say that.”

Elladan looked at his twin and saw the pain in his eyes.  His own feelings were at war within him, he did not understand why he did what he did to Legolas, or why he said the things that so hurt his beloved now.  He released Elrohir and sat up burying his face in his hands as he fought not to cry.

Elrohir sat up and placed his hand upon Elladan’s back.  “Saes, muindor, what is happening?  Why are you so angry?  What can I do?” he asked quietly, choking on his own tears.

Elladan turned his face to Elrohir and croaked, “I am afraid, Elrohir, I am scared to death.”

Elrohir slid closer and placed his arms around Elladan’s waist.  “Of what, meleth?” he asked quietly.

“Of losing you,” Elladan answered.  “I saw the way you and Legolas looked at one another after you spent the night together, I see that he cares for you and you for him.”  He took a deep breath and continued, “We were so young, Elrohir.  You have never had the chance to love another, to have a normal life; I took that chance from you.  I took your innocence from you.” He drew a ragged breath.  “I lied, Elrohir.  You did not betray me. I betrayed you because I could not resist my own desire for you.  Now my selfishness has brought us both to ruin.”  He broke down in tears.

Elrohir gathered Elladan into his arms and held him close, fighting off his own tears.  “Oh Elladan, my brave and beautiful brother.  I have never regretted what you did.  I have been thankful for it; you showed me what was in my heart, what I was too afraid to see by myself.  Had it not been for you, I would have gone from lover to lover, always unsatisfied, always missing what I really needed.”  He turned Elladan’s face to his own.  “I love you, Elladan, with all of my heart and soul.  My heart will belong to you and only you until the end of our days.”

“Forgive me, Elrohir,” Elladan sobbed as he clutched his twin’s tunic.  “I have hurt you, I have…”

“Ssshhh,” Elrohir chided gently as he pressed his fingers to Elladan’s lips.  “You did not mean to, I know this.  Fear makes us do foolish things, Elladan.”  He smiled gently and caressed his twin’s face.  “Before we left the Golden Wood, I too was afraid, afraid you would tire of me.  I no longer wanted to share you with others, though I could not see how to avoid it.  Thranduil has given us the answer to our problems; he has given us a way to be together forever.  Legolas is my friend, meleth, no more.”

Elladan leaned into his brother’s embrace and whispered, “Melon lle, Elrohir, always.”

“Always,” Elrohir replied as he gently laid his twin upon the bed, snuggling into his arms and holding him close.

After a moment of silence, Elladan softly spoke, “I must apologize to Legolas.  He did not deserve what I did.”

Elrohir caressed his brother’s hair and nodded.  “Yes, you must, but not now.  Now is for us to be together.”

< > < > < >

Glorfindel rose from the bed where he and Haldir were napping as he heard the envelope slide underneath their door.  He crossed the room and retrieved it, returning to the bed as Haldir sighed and rolled back into his arms.

“What is that, meleth?” Haldir asked softly.

Glorfindel opened it and read it aloud, “You are cordially invited to share dinner with King Thranduil and his son Legolas to hear an announcement.”  He raised one eyebrow as he looked down at the top of his lover’s head.  “I wonder what this is about?” he asked suspiciously.

Haldir chuckled and snuggled closer.  “Perhaps the King is about to propose marriage to Elladan.”

Glorfindel snorted and slapped his lover’s suede covered backside.  “Do not be ridiculous, Haldir.  Elladan is a passing fancy for the King, no more.”

Haldir stretched his feline limbs and snuggled close again.  “Well, one never knows, meleth nín.  For example, take us.  We are quite the unlikely pair.”

Glorfindel chuckled and caressed his lover’s bare arm.  “Yes, one moment I am sleeping peacefully, the next I am presented with a naked and trussed marchwarden in my chamber.  Now here I find myself hopelessly in love with said naked and trussed marchwarden.”

Haldir snorted and nipped his lover’s bare chest.  “That was all part of the plan, meleth, to trick you into giving me your heart.”

Glorfindel laughed heartily and squeezed his lover.  “Well, your plan worked, for you have it, meleth nín.”

“As you have mine, a’maelamin,” Haldir whispered in return.

“Mmm… lucky me,” Glorfindel purred as he rolled over his lover.

“Glorfindel!” Haldir gasped as the warrior reached inside his leggings.

“Haldir!” Glorfindel gasped playfully as he assaulted his lover’s ear with his lips.

“Aiya,” Haldir breathed, “You wear me out, Vanya.”

“Never, not my strong Galadhrim,” he purred in response.

< > < > < >

Galathil stood in front of the mirror, having emerged from a languorous and wonderful bath with his tutor.  He smoothed the folds of his ceremonial robes and checked his braids one final time.  He wondered why his father was planning a formal state dinner that evening, but he had learned long ago not to question him.  He smiled as he felt Erestor’s hands slide across the velvet of his tunic and leaned back into his tutor’s embrace.

“I am quite pleased with your performance this afternoon, my Princeling.  Can I trust now that you have learned your lessons well?” the Noldo’s deep voice purred softly in his ear.

Galathil nodded and responded breathlessly, “Yes, my Lord.”

“Excellent. I am well pleased with you this day, Prince Galathil.” Erestor released his student, placing a soft kiss upon the back of his head.

Galathil blinked as he felt the uncharacteristically gentle kiss his tutor bestowed upon him and turned around to meet Erestor’s gaze.  He swallowed the lump in his throat and asked nervously, “May I have permission to speak freely, my Lord?”

Erestor cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.  “Yes, of course,” he answered quietly.

“Do you…” he cleared his throat as his voice cracked from nerves.  He took a deep breath and began again, “Do you… feel anything… for me?”

Erestor’s eyes grew wide upon hearing the question.  It was not the first time that one of his pupils was smitten with him, but it was the first time one had ever been bold enough to ask him directly.  He pushed his own feelings firmly aside and responded as he always had to overtures of affection from one he had taught. “That is not what these lessons were about, my Prince.”  He watched Galathil’s face drop and his gaze fall to the floor, and felt a pang of sorrowful guilt at his own deception.  It was wrong, and he knew it, but the hurt he had seen in Galathil’s eyes cut him straight to his heart.  He reached out and turned the Prince’s gaze back up to his own.  “But in answer to your question,” he hesitated, swallowing, “Yes, I do care for you, pen-neth.” 

Galathil’s eyes lit up and a smile graced his handsome face, and Erestor felt his heart skip a beat.  Galathil fell to his knees in the floor in front of Erestor, grasping his hands and pressing them to his cheek.  “Oh, my Lord,” he began breathlessly.  “I would do anything for you, serve you however you like, follow you to the ends of Arda itself.  But do not leave me here without you when you go. I will surely die without you.”

Erestor was reeling; this was happening excessively fast and the Prince was so young.  As he stared down at the golden head bowed before him, he knew he could not turn the young one away – not if he was to be honest with his own heart.  “We will see, pen-neth, we must speak with your father before any plans are made.”

Galathil wrapped his arms around Erestor’s waist and pressed his face to his stomach.  “Hannon lle, my Lord,” he whispered.

Erestor stroked his flaxen hair and pulled him to his feet.  “Now, ernlien, it is time to go to dinner.”

Galathil pressed the softest of kisses to Erestor’s lips before pulling back and answering, “I will follow you where ever you choose to go, my Lord.”

Erestor bit back a chuckle at the sudden display of romantic chivalry from his young lover and took his hand in the crook of his arm, escorting him from his chamber to the dining hall.

< > < > < >

Elladan and Elrohir arrived at Thranduil’s door at the appointed time and knocked.  They entered upon hearing the King’s voice bid them to do so, Elrohir closing the door behind them.  Legolas was there, with his father, and Elladan’s face momentarily flushed with shame as he met the Prince’s eyes.

Thranduil caught the look that passed between the Peredhil and his son and instantly knew that Elladan was the reason Legolas had been so upset earlier.  He stalked toward the Peredhil and growled in a low voice, “What have you done to my son?”

Elladan’s eyes widened and he stammered, “I… I am sorry, my Lord.  I was going to apologize…” He barked in surprise as his feet left the floor and his back impacted the wall.  Thranduil held him by the collar of his robes, his toes barely touching the floor. 

“Ada!” Legolas cried as he grabbed one of Thranduil’s arms.

“Please, my Lord,” Elrohir begged as he grabbed the other.  “Do not hurt him, he meant no harm…”

Ignoring his son and Elrohir, he leaned in and growled, “Tell me what you did, Elladan, and be honest.  To lie to me now would be highly unwise.”

Elladan swallowed and answered, “I kissed him, without his permission and against his will.”   He held up his hands and closed his eyes, waiting for the first blow to fall.  “But I swear upon my life it was only a kiss.  I intended to apologize when we came in, I swear it.”

“It is true, Ada,” Legolas said softly in his father’s ear.  “It was only a kiss, nothing more.”

“Please, my Lord,” Elrohir pleaded, “he did come to apologize, I promise you.”

Thranduil growled and released Elladan, causing both Peredhil to heave a sigh of relief.  Legolas drew his father away and spoke to him quietly as he caressed his face.  

Elladan gathered his composure and crossed the room to Legolas and Thranduil.  He took one knee before Legolas and softly addressed him, “Forgive me, mellonamin.  You did not deserve what I did; it was wrong and selfish on my part.  I am truly ashamed for my actions.”  

Legolas looked down at the top of Elladan’s head, then looked up into Elrohir’s eyes.  His friend smiled and nodded and he smiled in return.  “Rise, Elladan,” he said softly.  “All is forgiven.”

Elladan rose to his feet and answered, “Hannon lle, mellon.”  He turned to Thranduil and bowed his head.  “Forgive me, my Lord, I am so ashamed.”

Thranduil regarded Elladan for a moment then grumbled.  He reached out and caressed his hair and nodded.  “All is forgiven, pen-neth.”  He smiled despite himself as Elladan leaned into him and slid his arms around his waist.  He gathered the Peredhil into his arms and kissed the top of his head.

He sighed and chuckled.  “Aiya, Elladan, you will be the death of me yet.”

Elladan sighed and sank into Thranduil’s embrace.  “I hope not, my Lord.”

“Come,” Thranduil said gently, “We have an announcement to make and guests to attend to.”

Legolas took Elrohir’s offered arm and strolled out with his friend.  “Let the games begin,” Elrohir whispered wickedly, and Legolas chuckled.

Thranduil and Elladan followed, arm in arm, the Peredhil’s head leaning upon the King’s shoulder.

< > < > < >

Chapter 10

Erestor and Galathil stood in the main dining hall quietly talking with Glorfindel and Haldir.  The hall was filled with guests of the King of Mirkwood, mostly consisting of members of his court and council, with a few courtesans, both male and female, thrown in for good measure.  

Glorfindel fought not to smile as he watched Galathil cast amorous glances Erestor’s way, and watched the Counselor try his best not to notice.  Haldir stood beside him, his strong archer’s hands caressing his backside in long lazy circles.  He could feel his arousal begin to stir from his lover’s touch and he glanced at the Silvan, seeing his eyes twinkle with mirth over the rim of his glass.  It was going to be a long night.

The steady hum of conversation and quiet music dimmed as people turned their attention to the door.  Legolas entered first, hair elaborately braided, dressed in ceremonial robes of pale blue silk and velvet trimmed in silver, a mithril circlet upon his brow.  Elrohir was on his arm, his hair was woven in an intricate pattern, and he was dressed in midnight and silver velvet, a mithril circlet with a star set in the center upon his head.  Thranduil followed next, in kingly robes of deep green and silver, his crown upon his head and staff in his hand.  Elladan was on the King’s arm, dressed in robes and adornments identical to his twin.  

Thranduil’s subjects bowed as he and his son entered the room, just as they had when Galathil and Erestor did.  Thranduil bid his guests sit and enjoy their dinner as he took his place at the head of the long table, Elladan to his right.  Legolas sat to his left, with Galathil next to him; Elladan and Elrohir sat directly across from them.  Erestor sat next to his pupil, Glorfindel across from him and Haldir sat at the warrior’s side.  The guests were arranged around the table after that in descending order of importance, members of the ruling council first, all others further down from the King.

Servants began serving the meal in earnest, starting with a first course of fresh greens combined with nuts and berries, tossed with oil and vinegar purchased from the southern reaches of Arda.  The first course was served with a crisp apricot wine that had been kept cool beneath the caves that was Thranduil’s home.  Next followed the main course of roast wild boar with baby potatoes and root vegetables, accompanied by a fine red wine, spiced with a bit of cinnamon and clove.  The meal was a leisurely one, guests eating and drinking their fill, and when the dessert course arrived, the mulled wine had gone to many of the guests’ heads.  

The unattached men that sat upon the Council were enjoying what the renowned courtesans of Mirkwood had to offer; while the King’s most honored guests enjoyed one another, seemingly with abandon.

Erestor fed the elder prince small cakes and delicacies; his eyes darkening as Galathil hungrily licked the Noldo’s fingers clean.  Haldir was content to nibble upon Glorfindel’s neck as his hand strayed from the arm of his chair to the Vanya’s lap, causing Glorfindel’s eyes to widen in surprise.  Legolas rose from his place at the table, coming round the corner to seat himself in Elrohir’s lap, draping one leg over the arm of the stately chair as he and his young lover fed one another.  Elladan, taking his cue from Legolas climbed into the King’s lap, feeding small cakes to his lover and licking stray bits of frosting from his lips.  

The musicians played on throughout the carousing, and guests danced, laughed, and flirted shamelessly.  Haldir thought to himself that if all Mirkwood celebrations were so raucous, he could learn to enjoy it there, it was so different from the staid events in the Golden Wood.  Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor, and Glorfindel were quite at home in these surroundings, as celebrations in Imladris tended to become rather boisterous.

Thranduil gracefully unseated his lover and stood at the head of the table.  Tapping his goblet with a knife and getting his guests attention.  He cleared his throat and smiled at the twins and Legolas.

“The reason you are all gathered here this night is in celebration of a joyous event,” Thranduil said with an unabashed smile.  “It is my pleasure to announce that my son, Legolas, has agreed to bond with Elrohir, Son of Elrond Peredhil.”

The hall burst with applause and cheers.  Elrohir wrapped his arms around Legolas’ waist and hugged him close, placing soft kisses upon his face.  Galathil sat quietly, looking at his brother with no small amount of envy that he would be bonded with the one he loved and wanted.

As the applause died down, Thranduil continued, “There is yet more cause for celebration this night, as I have asked Elladan, Son of Elrond Peredhil, to be my bonded mate, and he has graciously accepted."

Glorfindel nearly choked on his wine as Haldir thumped him upon the back, looking at his lover’s ashen complexion with concern.  Glorfindel’s sputters of shock were drowned out by the cheers that erupted from the hall.  

Galathil dropped his fork with a clang, his mouth open in shock and eyes wide in disbelief.  His face colored as Elladan’s gaze settled upon him and Erestor caressed his back.

“Long live Thranduil and Elladan!” the crowd cried, “Long live Legolas and Elrohir!” 

Glorfindel was in a state of disbelief; he could not believe his own ears.  Thranduil had actually asked Elladan to bond with him and the youth accepted.  He could imagine his Lord’s reaction upon hearing the news, and he feared his Lady would faint dead away.  

Haldir smirked; he pitied the poor fool that had to carry this news back to the Golden Wood.  Suddenly, it occurred to him that poor fool might indeed be himself.

Thranduil encouraged his guests to continue their celebration as he took Elladan in his arms, cradling his head in his hands and placing a soft kiss upon his lips.  Elladan moaned quietly, unsettled by the tenderness in the kiss and caress, and he was filled with the urge to pull the King into a private room and offer himself freely.

Elrohir and Legolas kissed slowly, what started out as a kiss for show, quickly turned into more as Elrohir began tasting of his lover.  Legolas soft moans, unheard by the others at the table over the din of the celebration, traveled straight to his arousal as memories of their first night together played in his mind.

Haldir whispered into his lover’s ear, “Come, melethron.” His hand drifted into Glorfindel’s lap again.  “I know what will take your mind off this unsettling news.” 

Glorfindel nodded and downed the contents of his goblet in one gulp.  “Yes, please, meleth.  Take me away from here before I lose my grip on my composure.”

Glorfindel and Haldir rose from their chairs and bowed to the Prince and King, offering their congratulations.  Glorfindel shot a suspicious glance at Elladan and the Peredhil merely smiled back as he cuddled against Thranduil.  The two warriors left the dining hall and retired to their quarters.

Erestor heard the slight catch in Galathil's breathing and turned his head, following the Prince's line of sight. A small smile curved the corner of his mouth as he understood the reason for Galathil's reaction. Legolas and Elrohir were kissing with abandon, oblivious to their surroundings, lost to each other's touch. Thranduil held Elladan similarly; his hands had worked their way beneath Elladan's robe and were stroking his lover's skin as his mouth held Elladan's captive.

Turning his head, he pressed his lips to Galathil's ear, and slid his hands slowly from the Prince's knees to his thighs. "You like watching, do you not?" Erestor whispered, his hands sliding further upward until he reached the evidence of Galathil's arousal. "Oh, yes," he chuckled, stroking the bulge firmly and making Galathil squirm on his lap. "I can see that you do." He almost missed Galathil's soft groan over the sounds of the celebration around him.

Erestor chuckled, licking the curve of Galathil's ear. "Which would excite you more, my Prince?" He stroked his arousal with light, teasing touches. "Watching your brother claim Elrohir?" Another soft groan escaped Galathil. "Or perhaps you would enjoy seeing your brother at Elrohir's mercies more?"  He could feel the damp spot that had formed on Galathil's robe from the weeping tip of his arousal.

His teeth closed around the tender skin of Galathil's earlobe and he nipped it gently. "Or maybe, it is Elladan you want to see, conquered, taken, mastered by your father?"  He laughed softly at the Prince's whimper of need.

"Saes, my Lord," Galathil whispered, closing his eyes, squirming in a rather delightful fashion on Erestor's lap. "I will not be able to hold myself back if you do not stop."

Erestor reached for one of the large linen napkins and dropped it casually on Galathil's lap, effectively covering the actions of his hands beneath the table. With all that was going on around them, he doubted that anyone would notice, but he felt that at least a little discretion was called for.  He worked his fingers inside the Prince’s robes, finding what he sought.

He pressed his lips to Galathil's ear once more. "I do not want you to hold back, my Prince," he whispered, working his hand over Galathil's length in slow, firm strokes. "I want to hold you on my lap and watch you lose yourself to my touch."

Galathil shook his head, biting his lips, a low groan escaping him. "Saes, my Lord. I beg you, not here."

Erestor turned his head with his other hand and touched his lips lightly with his own. "If you do this for me, I promise there will be a reward for your good behavior."

Galathil closed his eyes in surrender, pressing his lips against Erestor's hungrily. His lover's words and touches had him so close to completion, it would not take long anyway.

Erestor swallowed the groans from Galathil's mouth, his hand working skillfully between the Prince's legs until he felt the lithe body stiffen against him. Galathil shuddered, his face coloring beautifully as he reached his peak. Erestor held him tightly as his trembling subsided, whispering soft words of approval in the Prince's ear.

Galathil's ragged breathing slowed and he felt Erestor's hand move away. He reached for the glass of wine to wet his dry mouth when another caught his gaze.

Elladan gazed at the elder prince from the comfort of Thranduil’s lap.  He inclined his head as Thranduil’s lips worked wicked magic upon his ear and his fingers tormented his hardened nipples.

Elladan’s eyes were the color of the deepest caverns, dark, fathomless, and glittering with lust.  Galathil was held by that gaze, as surely as his tutor held him in his lap.  The wicked smile that curved the Peredhil’s ripe lips caused him to whimper quietly.

Erestor heard Galathil's soft whimper and followed his gaze. He caught the exchange between Elladan and Galathil and smiled. Even now, it seemed; his pupil was hungry for more. "Drink your wine, Prince," he commanded softly. "The lesson is not over yet."

A fine tremble went through Galathil at Erestor's words. He both loved and dreaded the hearing of them.

Thranduil growled quietly as Elladan turned and whispered promises of wicked deeds he would do in his ear, and slowly undulated upon his lap, grinding his backside against the King’s awakening arousal.

“My brother and I enjoy sharing intimate moments with those we care for,” Elladan purred.  “Perhaps we could share such an evening with you and Legolas?”

Thranduil glanced over at his beloved, seated upon Elrohir’s lap.  Legolas was lost in Elrohir’s kiss, but not so lost that he did not cast a loving glance his father’s way.  An unspoken understanding passed between father and son and Thranduil whispered in his lover’s ear, “Are you quite sure you wish to do this, Elladan?”

A moment of silence passed as Elladan reached out to his twin, receiving Elrohir’s agreement.  “Yes, melethron,” he whispered.  “We are quite sure.”  

Thranduil growled, “Then come, pen rhovan, let us enjoy one another.”  He signaled to Legolas to follow and the Prince slid off Elrohir’s lap tugging him along with him.

The four lovers departed the room unnoticed by all except Erestor and Galathil.

< > < > < >

Galathil followed Erestor, holding his slightly damp robes away from his body, grateful that no one seemed to notice their departure.

"Where are we going, my Lord?" he asked softly, puzzled by the route they were taking. They were headed in the direction of his Adar's chambers, and he could not think of why his lover would be taking him there.

"Hush, prince," Erestor commanded softly, reaching back to grasp his hand. "You must be quiet for now. Do not ask, simply watch and learn."

They reached the end of the hall where his Adar's chambers were. Instead of leading him to the door, however, Erestor paused in front of a large tapestry. He watched, startled, as Erestor lifted the lamp that was burning from the wall sconce. A low, rumbling noise, like stone grating over stone, was heard from behind the tapestry. With a brief smile, Erestor pushed it out of the way, and gestured for Galathil to enter the doorway that had opened there.

Erestor followed him closely, extinguishing the lamp as they walked through the narrow stone passage. Galathil wished he could ask him where they were going, and how he knew of this passage in the first place. Galathil had not known it even existed.  The passage widened slightly, and Erestor stopped his progress with his hand on his arm.

It was just barely wide enough for Erestor to squeeze by him, and his lover did not hesitate to take advantage of their momentary closeness. He bit back a groan when Erestor’s lips burned a trail across his neck, and he felt the elf lord's arousal press hotly against his own. Erestor drew back and smiled in a wicked fashion that Galathil found both unnerving and exciting.

"You wanted to watch, my prince?" he whispered softly against Galathil's mouth. "You want to see?"

Galathil moaned softly as Erestor pressed him against the wall. He nodded faintly. "Yes, my lord," he whispered.

Erestor captured his lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it gently. Erestor released his hold on Galathil's lip. "Very well, my princeling," he crooned softly. "Watch you shall."

They reached a small door cut into the stone, and Erestor opened it quietly. Like the entrance to the passageway, this too was hidden behind a tapestry, and Erestor pushed it aside without a sound.

A large, tri-fold screen, painted with birds and exotic flowers stood in the corner of his Adar's room, and Galathil recognized it at once. He glanced at Erestor in surprise, but the elf lord gestured for him to be silent.

Erestor led him behind the screen, carefully adjusting one fold so that they had a clearer view of the bed.

Clever, practiced fingers undid the ties of Galathil's robe until it hung open. His loincloth was loosened as well, and Galathil whimpered softly when Erestor’s hand slid beneath it to stroke his reawakened arousal.

< > < > < >

As they traversed the dimly lit corridors of the palace, they fumbled with one another’s clothing, trying to kiss and touch as they stumbled down the hall.  Thranduil, in a moment of exasperation, picked Elladan up as the Peredhil locked his long legs around the King’s waist and carried him down the hall.  As they passed by the door that led to the private wing, Thranduil noticed that the lantern that always hung there was missing, and the tapestry was slightly askew.  He had noticed Erestor rise from his chair as they left the table, and he suspected the Noldo was planning yet another lesson for his eldest son.

The sound of Thranduil's door being opened alerted Erestor and Galathil that the King and his lover had finally arrived. Turning, the two elves watched as the door swung open.

Thranduil shoved the door to his chambers open, his robes already halfway removed as Elladan struggled to reach him beneath the heavy layers of velvet.  He looked over his shoulder at his beloved, so lost in the moment as Elrohir consumed his mouth with heated intensity.  He quickly perused the room, noting with some difficulty, as Elladan was reluctant to release his mouth, that the screen was in a different position.  He extricated himself from the Peredhil’s grasp and spoke in the general direction of the screen, “I must remove the lantern outside in the hallway, it is a sign that we are not to be disturbed.”  He caressed Elladan’s flushed face.  “I will be back shortly.”

Erestor heard Thranduil's words for the message they were. The king knew he was there, and wanted to speak with him before things went too far. Carefully he extracted himself from Galathil's grasp, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I will be right back, bain nín," he whispered against his ear. "I must see to something first. Do not move, do not make a sound."

Galathil nodded, curious, but unable to ask why his lover was leaving. He watched as Erestor retreated through the small door, before turning his attention to the three elves that had remained behind in the bedroom.

Legolas furrowed his brow as his father left the room, but was soon distracted by Elrohir who turned his face back to his own and claimed his mouth once again.

Elladan flopped upon the bed and watched his brother and Legolas in their heated embrace, longing to kiss the Prince’s sweet lips again, only this time, he would do it right.

< > < > < >

Thranduil waited in the corridor for his old tutor to arrive, anxious to return before disaster struck.

Erestor pushed the tapestry aside and met the King's worried gaze. "What is it, my lord?"

Thranduil leaned in and whispered, “Is my son with you?”

Erestor nodded. "Yes, my lord. I hope you do not mind?"

Thranduil closed his eyes.  He had not intended on telling another soul of his love for Legolas.  Now he was faced with confiding in Erestor.  He sighed.  “There is something you do not know, Erestor.  Legolas and I… we have become…” He took a deep breath.  “We have become lovers.”  He looked into his friend’s eyes, searching for any sign of judgment.

Erestor blinked. That explained quite a bit. He could see Thranduil's worry and gave his friend a brief smile, reaching up to clasp his shoulder. "Are you happy, mellonamin?" he asked softly.

Thranduil leaned in, pressing his forehead to that of his friend.  “Blissfully, mellon.  I love Legolas with all my heart, I am utterly devoted to him.”  He drew back and continued quietly, “I was not the one to take his innocence, that was Elrohir’s role.  After experiencing the ways of the flesh with Elrohir, he chose me.  He loves me.”

Erestor nodded. "Then that is all I need to know, my friend."  He dropped his hand away and looked at the King. "You are worried about Galathil's reaction?"

Thranduil sighed.  “Aye, my eldest just saw me promise to bond with Elladan, I would guess he is reeling from that still.  To add this…”

A faint smile curled his lips. "Do not be, mellonamin. He will understand, I think, especially if he sees you together. Do not fear, he is stronger than you think."

“But, are you sure, Erestor?  I cannot risk hurting him, I cannot hurt one child in order to have the other’s love.”  Thranduil’s brow was furrowed with worry.

Erestor's smile grew broader. "Then this is yet another lesson I will impart to your eldest son, my friend. Understanding is important in a ruler, would you not agree? And if it eases your thoughts any, I will...distract Galathil at the opportune moment. He need not see what you do not wish him to.”

Thranduil pondered the statement for a moment.  He had long trusted Erestor, trusted him enough to hand his eldest son over to him for tutelage.  Could he trust him enough to know what Galathil was capable of understanding?  He looked at his friend and answered, “I trust you to know what he is capable of, mellonamin.  Let him see what you believe he needs to in order to understand.  I had never dreamed that I could love Legolas without hiding it from Galathil.”

Erestor nodded. "He would have discovered your love eventually, mellon." A small smile curved his mouth as he looked at the King. "You shine for each other, though only the most observant would see it for what it is."

Thranduil blushed, a sight Erestor had not seen in an age, and smiled.  “He does make me most happy, mellonamin.  He is ever a source of joy in my life.” He sighed.  “Very well, I continue to trust you with my son.  He is about to see something he is not likely to see again in his long life.”

Thranduil turned to enter his chamber again and stopped, looking back over his shoulder.  “We are trusting both of you to many secrets, Erestor. My relationship with Legolas is not the only one at stake here.”

Erestor lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?" He had an inkling of what Thranduil was about to say, but wanted to hear it from the King's own lips.

Thranduil softly continued, “Elladan and Elrohir share a similar love.  It is a secret and a burden they have long bore.  This union, between Elladan and I, and Legolas and Elrohir is a way to ease that burden for all of us.  None of us would be able to live any other way.”

"Long have I suspected there might be more between Elrond's sons than brotherly affection," Erestor said softly. "They hid it well, far better than your love for Legolas, I might add." He shook his head slowly. "I am glad that they have found a way to be together, and you are both generous and kind to have given them this precious gift." He smiled fleetingly. "I know others would condemn you all for your love, but I do not believe it is the sin they say it is. Love is precious and a rare thing to have. How can it, therefore, be a sin?" He took a deep breath, shaking his head once more. "You will hear no word of judgment from me, mellon, nor will your secrets ever pass my lips. They are safe, and I will hold them so for as long as there is life in me."

Thranduil smiled gently.  “It seems then, that I am in your debt once again, my Lord.”  He bowed his head and covered his heart.  He turned and quietly entered the chamber, closing the door behind him.

Erestor smiled, and turned, retracing his steps through the hidden passage.

< > < > < >

Upon entering his bedchamber he found his son nearly divested of all his clothing.  He lay upon the bed covered by nothing but his loincloth as Elladan gently stroked his ear and Elrohir placed gentle kisses along his abdomen and thighs.  Legolas moaned with abandon, one hand resting upon the back of Elrohir’s head, the other returning the favor to Elladan’s ear.  His lithe body undulated beneath their hands as deep moans wracked his frame.

Elladan purred in his ear, “May I kiss you, my liege?”

“Uma…” came Legolas’ breathless reply.

Elladan leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the Prince’s lips, gently nudging them open and sliding his tongue inside.  He drank from Legolas with a hunger that was fired by the Prince’s bewitching moans and soft cries.  He thought his twin to be the luckiest elf in Elvendom to have deflowered this beauty.

Galathil pressed his fist against his mouth to stifle a moan as he watched the Peredhil work their magic on his brother. For a moment, he wished he could trade places with Legolas, just to feel their touch once more. Then he felt the familiar and welcome touch of Erestor’s hand on the back of his neck, and he met his lover's kiss with hunger.

Erestor pulled away from the kiss, his hands sliding possessively over Galathil's body as he turned him towards the view of the bed. He pressed his lips to Galathil's ear. "Watch," he whispered.

Thranduil removed his robe, exposing his naked body, letting it fall to the floor as he slid off his shoes and climbed upon the bed.  He slid in behind Elladan, his fingers sliding to the thin straps that held the Peredhil’s loincloth in place.  “Come here, pen rhovan,” he whispered silkily in the Peredhil’s ear.

Elladan released Legolas’ mouth and rolled into the King’s arms without a second thought.  He moaned as his loincloth slid off his hips, exposing his weeping arousal to the King’s hungry gaze.  

Thranduil took Elladan in his arms and consumed him with his hands and his mouth.  One hand slid over the Peredhil’s hip, drawing his knee up.  His fingers sought the cleft between Elladan’s buttocks and he teased the Peredhil’s entrance.  “I want to take you, mir nín.  I want to bury myself in your heat as you cry out my name,” the King’s deep rumbling voice whispered. 

Elladan arched and whimpered in response, his hands clutching at the King’s back.  “Yes, my Lord,” he whispered breathlessly, “Claim me, drive inside me until there is nothing left.”

Galathil's lips parted, his breath quickening in lust as he watched his father bewitch the dark-haired beauty on his bed. Their words, though softly spoken, carried easily to his sensitive ears, and his arousal twitched in response.  

“On your knees, pen rhovan,” Thranduil growled to Elladan.

Elladan rose to his hands and knees, his head hanging down as he waited with heated anticipation.

Elrohir lay on his back with Legolas between his legs, the Prince’s mouth teasing, exploring, caressing his most sensitive and intimate places.  His gaze drifted to his twin, watching as Elladan waited to be taken.  His hand reached out across the bed; his fingers tickling Elladan’s own and his elder twin turned his head to look at him.  Elladan’s eyes glowed with lust, dark and hypnotizing.  His ripe lips were parted as he moaned with abandon.  

As Thranduil’s oiled fingers entered him, Elladan threw his head back and cried out in pleasure, his long back arching as he bucked against the King’s hand.  Elrohir’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his brother surrender to the King’s bewitching touch.  “I love you,” his thoughts reached out, and Elladan smiled at him.

Elladan's cry seemed to go straight to his loins, and Galathil trembled with the need that filled him.

Legolas looked up at his father and moaned, never had he seen one so beautiful, so perfect as his Ada.  Strangely, he did not feel envy for Elladan, he was glad to see him lost in pleasure at his father’s touch.  For he knew, he held his father’s heart, no other ever would, and in that, he took comfort and ease.  “Come, melethron,” he whispered to Elrohir.  “Let us join them.”

Elrohir’s eyes widened, he had not expected as much from his dear friend.  He smiled and nodded, rising and crawling across the bed to his twin.  He paused on his hands and knees in front of Elladan, smiling as he shifted to sit in front of him.  He caressed his flushed face with his hands and leaned in to claim his twin’s ripe mouth.

Elladan moaned into the kiss, and Elrohir swallowed his cry as Thranduil entered his body.  He rocked forward into his twin’s arms as Thranduil filled him.  As Elrohir pulled away, he whispered raggedly, “Let me taste you, Elrohir, saes…” 

Elrohir smiled and climbed to his knees, offering his arousal to his brother’s lips.  He groaned as Elladan took him into his mouth, his head falling back as he moaned with abandon.

Legolas moved behind Thranduil and straddled his father’s legs, leaning against his back as he wrapped his long arms around him.  “Melon lle, Ada,” he whispered as Thranduil entered Elladan’s willing body again and again.  He locked his lips around the point of his father’s ear and suckled it as his fingers caressed the rings that pierced his nipples, causing Thranduil to moan breathlessly, pleading words of love and passion escaping his lips. 

Galathil blinked as if uncertain of what he was seeing. Erestor's hand covered his length, stroking it in slow, firm touches that made it difficult for him to think. He could not ask, he could not question. He could only watch as his father claimed Elladan's body, as Elladan took Elrohir's length in his mouth, as Legolas kissed his father with open passion.  He trembled, from both Erestor’s touches and his father's loving words. It surprised him, and he was not certain how to take it. Yet, there was nothing but love on Legolas' face as he kissed and caressed his father, and Thranduil's words were spoken with love.

Erestor buried his face in Galathil's neck, his own arousal straining against his leggings at the sight before him. Never, in all his long years, had he seen anything quite so stirring. Galathil turned towards him, hunger written plainly on his fair face, and reached for his robes. Erestor slid his robes from his body with quick efficiency, and his fingers made short work of the ties of his leggings. His arousal throbbed almost painfully, and he wanted nothing more than to bury it in Galathil's willing heat. His arousal sprang free and he nearly moaned when Galathil's fingers gripped him, stroking him firmly. 

His hands pulled at Galathil's loincloth, sliding it down over his lean hips. Hands pressed Galathil's thighs as far apart as his fallen loincloth would permit, and Galathil whimpered softly when Erestor turned him around, his arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

He felt Erestor's arousal slide teasingly between the cleft of his buttocks and trembled with need, his eyes returning to the erotic tableau on the bed.

“Take me next, Ada,” Legolas whispered seductively.  “I need to feel you inside me.”

Legolas’ words inflamed him; the thought of entering his son, of burying himself inside him almost sent him over the edge.  Elladan gave another muffled cry as Thranduil struck his mark, Legolas’ words urging him on to completion.

Elladan whimpered breathlessly, his arousal swollen and throbbing hard against his stomach.  Thranduil gave slow, teasing strokes to his arousal, not enough to bring him satisfaction, but enough to keep him hovering on the edge of completion.

Legolas heard Elladan’s plaintive whimpers, and saw Elrohir drawing close to his own climax.  He slid underneath Elladan’s body and gave teasing licks to the Peredhil’s arousal, causing him to tremble.  Elrohir came with a keening cry and collapsed upon the bed.  Elladan cried out as Thranduil struck his mark yet again and began to plead openly with Legolas.

Legolas smiled and took the Peredhil in his mouth, working his length with newly acquired skill, seeking to bring Elladan the release he so desperately sought.

Erestor gathered the moisture from the tip of Galathil's arousal on his fingertips, before moving back and pressing them against the Prince's opening.  Galathil bit back his gasp of pleasure when he felt Erestor's fingers slide into him. His hips bucked against those fingers and he heard Erestor's soft chuckle.

Galathil tried to concentrate on the bed, watching Elladan's body being filled, hearing his sweet groans of pleasure as his father thrust into him again and again. He tried to watch Elrohir's beautiful face as he lost himself to the ecstasy of Elladan's mouth. He heard Elladan's groans take on urgency as Legolas' tongue flickered over his length. His body tightened, and he stifled his cry of pleasure against his mouth. His length pulsed, spilling his seed over Erestor’s fist, and he shuddered, leaning weakly against his lover. 

Thranduil growled his release, thrusting deeply inside Elladan’s body as he spilled himself inside the constricting passage and Legolas swallowed Elladan’s essence.  He released Elladan and the Peredhil collapsed upon the bed, allowing Elrohir to draw him into his arms and cradle him close to his chest.  Thranduil leaned forward; bestowing a soft kiss to Elladan’s bruised lips and smiling as the elder twin purred in response.

The King then turned his attention to his beloved.  Legolas knelt upon the bed, his hair spilling over his shoulders; the mithril circlet still crowned his head.  Thranduil crawled to his son, kneeling before him and gently taking him in his arms.  He let out a shuddering sigh as Legolas’ fingers reached for his length, gently fondling it and bringing it to life once again.  

“Melon lle, Ada,” Legolas whispered silkily.

“Meleth nín,” Thranduil replied, his voice thick with emotion.  He caressed his son’s back and slid his hands into his flaxen mane as he claimed Legolas’ mouth with an intensity that surprised them both.

Gentle hands drew Galathil to his knees in front of Erestor, and he opened his mouth, taking his lover’s length between his lips. His ears filled with the sounds of passion and love from the bed on the other side of the screen, and he struggled not to pull away, to watch as his father made love to his brother. 

Erestor’s hands slid into Galathil’s hair and caressed him as the Prince worked his length. Wet, delicious suction made him groan softly, and the vision on the bed only heightened the drive within him. 

Legolas whimpered into the kiss and arched against his father, gasping for air as Thranduil released him and moaning as his father’s mouth worked his ear.  His arousal stood hard against his stomach, and the rolled his hips forward, seeking contact with Thranduil’s burgeoning desire.  “Please, Ada,” he whispered, “I need to feel you inside me.”

“Legolas, meleth nín,” Thranduil replied, “I would do anything for you.”  

He guided his son to his back and caressed his face before working his way down his body.  He teased Legolas’ arousal with his tongue and his lips, keeping him on the edge of climax.  Legolas whimpering cries fueled his reawakened desire and he lathed the soft pouch of skin below his arousal before taking it fully into his mouth.

Legolas cried out and arched against the bed as Thranduil gently suckled this most sensitive area and he felt his swollen length twitch against his stomach.  Slowly Thranduil worked his way lower, causing him to whimper as his tongue circled his entrance.  “Saes, melethron,” he whispered hoarsely.

And Thranduil complied, thrusting his tongue inside his son’s willing body.  Legolas’ heartbreakingly beautiful voice cried out in pleasure as he slicked his passage, his hand reaching for the phial of oil on the floor.  He withdrew from his son’s body, and prepared his fingers and arousal as he gazed at his beloved.  

Legolas was indeed the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes upon, but his beauty was more than physical, it encompassed his entire being, it radiated from his eyes, from his very heart.  More than once, Thranduil had thanked the Valar for so wonderful a son, but never more so than in that moment.  

“Rise, seron vell,” he said softly.

Legolas rose to his knees and looked at his father lovingly.  

“Turn your back to me, Greenleaf, get on your hands and knees,” he instructed quietly.

Legolas smiled and nodded, turning his back to his father and bending over so that he rested on his hands and knees.

Thranduil slid one finger inside his son’s body, slowly and carefully.  Seeing that it caused him no discomfort, he added a second and heard Legolas deep moan.  He slowly rotated his fingers, spreading the oil deep inside, slowly stretching and preparing his son.  Legolas opened to him willingly and easily as he sighed and moaned in anticipation.

He leaned over and placed a soft kiss upon Legolas’ shoulder as he found his mark and Legolas cried out in pleasure.  He placed his hands on his love’s buttocks, gently spreading them, and he carefully entered his beautiful body.

Erestor drew back with a low gasp, pulling his length from Galathil’s swollen lips. He dropped to his knees beside the prince and pulled him into his arms. His hands guided Galathil so that the Prince’s legs straddled his thighs, and the tip of his arousal nudged his opening. They both heard the whimpers, the soft sighs of pleasure from Legolas and the deep blissful groans from Thranduil, but they only had eyes for each other. Erestor coated his length with Galathil’s seed, slicking the hardened flesh between his fingers. He steadied Galathil’s hips as he pushed into him, claiming his mouth swiftly to stifle the Prince’s cry of pleasure as he filled him.

Legolas moan nearly broke his heart in two, it was so full of love, so full of passion, and never had he heard a sound more beautiful.  “Melon lle, Legolas,” he whispered softly in his ear.

“Melon lle, Ada,” Legolas answered.

He slowly began to move inside his son, his love, his Greenleaf.  Legolas moaned urgently, whispering words of love and want, and he placed his hand upon Legolas’ chest, pulling him up so that he knelt in front of him.  His son’s lithe body swayed and rocked in his arms, opening to him.  Thranduil whispered, “You are perfect, meleth nín.”

Legolas answered breathlessly, “I was made for you, Ada, only you.”

Erestor rocked his hips forward and up, thrusting into Galathil’s tight heat in a slow, sinuous rhythm that had them both breathless with need. The sounds on the bed only heightened their own sense of pleasure. 

Galathil yielded utterly, leaning back on his hands, his hips rising and falling with Erestor’s thrusts as his lover filled him. His arousal had hardened once more, but Erestor did not touch it. His lover’s hands tightened almost painfully on his hips as he moved deeper, his eyes closing as he sought his release. Galathil reached forward with one hand to stroke his arousal in time with Erestor’s thrusts, and he closed his eyes as well. He heard Erestor’s quiet gasp, and felt his lover’s body spasm as his seed spilled deep into his body. He shuddered, his own release falling close behind, and it was all he could do to keep from shouting Erestor’s name as it claimed him. 

Elladan and Elrohir watched the loving and tender scene unfold before them, and Elrohir squeezed Elladan tight as a tear fell from his eye.  “They are beautiful, Elladan,” he whispered.

Elladan nodded and snuggled closer, “Yes they are, meleth.  So full of love for one another.”

Elrohir nodded and smiled.  “Just like us.”

Elladan smiled.  “Aye, Elrohir; just like us.”

Thranduil took Legolas’ length in his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, whispering words of love into his ear.  Legolas reached his climax with a keening cry, bucking back against his father.  Thranduil’s followed closely behind, as he moaned deeply and thrust one final time into his love’s body.

He held his son’s trembling body in his arms, caressing him and kissing him.  A blissful smile crossed Legolas’ face, and in that moment, the twins thought they had seen few things more beautiful.

Legolas slipped from his father’s embrace to turn and wrap his arms around him.  A soft laugh escaped him as Thranduil nibbled upon his neck.

Galathil leaned weakly against his lover’s body, feeling Erestor’s arms reach up to hold him. He no longer heard the sounds of bodies meeting in passion, but instead heard his brother’s soft and joyful laugh. He glanced up at Erestor uncertainly, and his lover shook his head, gesturing for silence. Stifling a sigh, he leaned back against Erestor’s chest and closed his eyes, content to simply feel the Noldo’s arms around him. 

Thranduil felt fingers upon his thigh and he looked down to see Elrohir, crouching on all fours like a cat, gazing up at him with his wide pewter eyes.

“That was inspiring, my Lord,” he purred.

Elladan nuzzled in between Legolas’ shoulder blades, his fingertips drawing idle circles on the Prince’s shoulders.  “Aye, quite,” Elladan purred in Legolas’ ear.

Legolas’ smiled mischievously at his father and said, “I think you may need a bigger bed, Ada.”

Thranduil chuckled and smiled. “You may be right, Greenleaf.”  

He hissed as Elrohir drew the tip of his tongue up the outside of his thigh and over his hip.  “I must protest,” he chided.  “The three of you are far younger than I.  How am I supposed to keep up with you?”

Elrohir chuckled.  “Somehow, I do not believe stamina is a quality in which you are lacking, my Lord.”

Elladan nodded vigorously.  “I can attest to that, gwanunig.”

Legolas laughed and fell back into Elladan’s arms as the Peredhil caught him.  “This looks to be a long evening.”

Elladan purred in his ear, “Come, my Prince.  I have long desired to know you better.”

Legolas chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I am quite sure you have.”

Elladan wrapped his arms around Legolas’ chest and pulled him back up to the head of the bed as the Prince laughed.

Elrohir snaked his way around Thranduil, pressing his lips to the King’s stomach and kissing his way up to his pink lips.  “I must say, my Lord, I have seen few mouths that looked as inviting as yours.”

Thranduil smiled and traced Elrohir’s lips with his finger.  “Perhaps, but your mouth, pen-neth, is as ripe and inviting as a fresh summer peach.  I wonder, is it as sweet?”

Elrohir whispered huskily, “Perhaps you should taste it and decide for yourself.”  He drew the King’s fingers into his mouth and suckled them, causing Thranduil to growl deeply.

Thranduil lowered the Peredhil to the bed and covered his lithe body with his own as Elrohir wrapped his long legs around him.

A loud thump, followed by a bark and boisterous laughter caused Thranduil and Elrohir to look up.  Elladan and Legolas had tumbled off the bed and were entwined upon the rug in a most ungraceful manner.  Elladan laughed heartily as Legolas joined him and Elrohir smiled.  It did his heart good to hear his brother laugh again.

Elladan chuckled, “Perhaps we should stay here before we hurt ourselves.”

Legolas purred, “Here, there, makes no matter to me.  You taste just as sweet on the floor.”

Elladan growled and resumed his assault on Legolas’ neck.

Thranduil followed suit, causing Elrohir to gasp and purr in delight.

They did not hear the door behind the tapestry close quietly, leaving the four of them in privacy to enjoy one another. 

< > < > < >

“Ai! Glorfindel!” Haldir barked as suds and water flew out of the tub.  “Had I known this was what you had in mind when you suggested we take a bath together, I would have declined.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “Come now, melethron, fight back.  This is no fun if you acquiesce.” 

“Aiya, I do not want to fight.  We are not elflings, Glorfindel.”  Haldir grimaced as he put up his hands.

Glorfindel leaned back in the large tub, resting his hands upon the sides.  “Something tells me you never were an elfling, meleth.”

Haldir growled and wiped the suds and water from his face.  “Must you always behave this way?”

Glorfindel nodded and closed his eyes, resting his head against the edge of the tub.  “I am afraid so, meleth nín,” he answered softly.  “You have bound yourself to an overgrown elfling.”

Haldir sat quietly for a moment, then answered, “I am sorry, meleth.  I wish I could be more like you, but I cannot.”

Glorfindel sighed and answered, “If I wanted to spend my life with someone like myself, I would have chosen Orophin, seron vell.”  He opened his eyes and sat up.  “Haldir, I do not want you to be like me, but I fear you have forgotten how to laugh and enjoy the lighter moments in life.”  He reached out for his lover and saw him draw away.  He shook his head and replied, “I love you with all my heart, Haldir.  But I cannot be what I am not.  I do not ask that you turn to pranks and outlandish behavior, nor can you ask me to always be the model of decorum and restraint.  It is not who I am.”

Haldir grumbled and stepped out of the tub.  “That is painfully obvious at times, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel looked at Haldir and shook his head, his expression hurt.  He rose from the tub and dried himself with a towel, snatching up his leggings and tunic.

Haldir put up his hands and began to apologize, “Glorfindel, I am sorry, meleth.  I…”

Glorfindel wheeled on him and replied, “I am done with your apologies, Haldir.  I am through explaining my actions as if I had done something wrong.  I will not excuse who I am, nor will I be who I am not.  You either love me for who I am, or you love me not at all.”  He stormed out of their chamber leaving a stunned Haldir in his wake.

Chapter 11

Erestor helped Galathil dress in the narrow passageway, before retrieving the lamp and leading his pupil to the exit. He pushed the tapestry out of the way and waited until Galathil had stepped into the hall before replacing the lamp. Once again, they heard the sound of stone grating against stone as the secret door slid shut.

Without speaking, Erestor took Galathil’s hand in his and led his young lover back through the hallway and up the stairs that led to his room. Closing his door behind him, he locked it against interruption, and turned, folding his arms across his chest.

Galathil looked back at him, his face a mask of warring emotions, though confusion was foremost. The Prince opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again, shaking his head.

“Speak what is on your mind, Prince. I know you must have questions,” Erestor said quietly, moving away from the door to the small, pedestal shaped table in the corner. A bottle of red wine and two glasses waited, and he poured equal amounts into each glass before handing one to the stunned Prince.

Galathil took a deep, fortifying sip of his wine before he managed to gather his thoughts enough to speak. 

“Adar, Legolas,” he said softly. “Elladan and Elrohir.”  He looked up at Erestor and frowned. “How did this happen? How long have you known that my father loved my brother?” He shivered delicately, taking another sip of wine. “I do not know whether to be happy for them or revolted by the prospect. It does not seem the natural way of things.”

"Who are we to say what is natural and what is not, Galathil?  Would you deny your father and your brother their heart's desire?” Erestor arched an eyebrow gracefully. “Are you in a position to know their hearts better than they do themselves?"

Galathil dropped his gaze to his wine and shook his head. "No, I suppose not, my lord." He looked up and met Erestor’s gaze unsteadily. "They seemed to genuinely love each other."

Erestor smiled gently. “They do, my prince. They have lived with this secret for long, hiding their love from others who would not understand it. Can you imagine what that must have been like for them?”

“No,” Galathil admitted quietly. “I cannot. It must have been difficult for them, to love each other and see others who could openly express it. Never having that freedom,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I cannot imagine what that would be like.”

“The mark of a great ruler is wisdom, Galathil,” Erestor replied seriously.  “In order to achieve true wisdom, one must look beyond what society deems is right, and think for one's self, make one's own decisions. To do this you must be brave enough, strong enough not to give in to the pressure of having your thoughts ruled by others.  We are all free, Galathil, free to ask questions, free to make our own decisions and choose our own paths.  But we must be brave enough to do so."

He placed his glass of wine on the table, and took Galathil’s from his hand as well. Turning, he pulled the Prince into his arms, enfolding his lithe body against him. “Law does not apply to one's heart, Galathil.  Love has its own rules, its own law, that is above the judgment or questioning of others.  However, we live in a world that does not always respect love in its more unconventional forms.” He placed a kiss against the soft skin of Galathil’s temple before continuing. “Therefore, in order to assure that your father and brother, and Elladan and Elrohir, are not hurt by their choices we must never breathe a word of what we saw to anyone.  Understood?”  He drew back to look at Galathil’s face.

Galathil's frown faded and he nodded slowly. "Yes, my Lord, I do." He managed a faint smile at his tutor. "Well, now can I see why Lord Elrond has you as his advisor. You are most wise, my Lord Erestor. Glad I am to have had you as my tutor in this, among other things." His smile turned slightly wicked.

Erestor gave him a mock scowl. “Impudent princeling. Ready yourself for bed. It has been a long and tiring day.”

< > < > < >

Haldir dressed, only his short, jerky movements revealed how upset he was by Glorfindel’s words. 

He had not meant to upset his lover, but he felt that, as seemed typical of late, that Glorfindel was overreacting. He replayed the scene in the bath over and over in his mind, and could not understand why Glorfindel had become so upset. His lover did behave less than his years – he freely admitted it. Why Haldir’s comment had set him off confused him, and the fact that Glorfindel did not accept his apology angered him.

Scowling, Haldir finished dressing, intent upon finding Glorfindel. 

Servants of Thranduil's hall took one look at the scowl on the marchwarden's face and wisely stepped out of his path. He took the steps quickly, his keen gaze sweeping the hall for any sign of his lover. One elf stood nervously by the main door, and Haldir targeted him quickly.

"Did you see Lord Glorfindel pass this way?" he barked.

Nodding, the elf pointed at the doors. "He went through, that way," he answered, before moving quickly out of the way.

He moved swiftly and with purpose, fairly certain where his lover might have gone to deal with his anger. His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the training arena and spotted the familiar golden form.

"Glorfindel, we need to talk," Haldir said, crossing the sand.

“No, we do not." Glorfindel replied coolly as he unsheathed his sword and stepped toward a large cotton stuffed leather bag resembling an orc.

Haldir's scowl deepened as he watched his lover ignore him. He reached out, catching the end of Glorfindel's tunic in his fist. "Yes," he growled. "We do."

Glorfindel's eyes drifted down to where Haldir clutched his tunic and he looked back up at the marchwarden with an emotionless expression.  "Do you plan to tear it off me, Haldir?  For I fight just as well without it."

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "I did not come here to fight with you, Glorfindel," he replied, his voice equally cool. "I came here to try to make amends with you. Will you at least listen?"

"Well," Glorfindel said, his voice calm but an undercurrent of anger was present nonetheless.  "That seems to be what we do more often than not.  Try to make amends.  Frankly, I grow weary of this entire affair, Haldir.  I said what I had to say.  You and I are clearly not suited to one another.  You would do better to find a mate that was more like yourself, more... staid.  Perhaps Erestor is still available." He stepped back, the tunic slipping free of the marchwarden's hands.  He swung his sword in a roundabout over his head making solid contact with the dummy.  "As for myself," he said as he drew the blade across the makeshift orc's throat. "I would do better to find one who is more lighthearted and appreciates who I am."

Haldir's jaw tightened. "So that is it?" he snapped, stepping close once more. His eyes were cold. "Is it just that simple for you to step away? What we have means that little to you?"  He drew himself up and gave a brittle smile. "Perhaps I was mistaken to believe in your words of love, your promises to me, if you are willing to give up this easily."

Glorfindel hurled his sword toward the ground and it stuck in the sand, point down, his grip on his composure had finally snapped.  "Easily?" he shouted, "You think this is easy?  To give my heart to one who constantly finds fault in me?  From the night you were deposited in my chamber, I have placated, apologized, soothed, reassured, contained my temper...  by the Valar, Haldir!  I have done everything short of turn myself into you!  What more do you want from me?”

"Your respect, for one," Haldir snarled, his fists clenching tightly. "That you understand that I am NOT like you, but that I am still capable of loving you, though the Valar only knows why. You think you are the only one who has controlled his temper? Gods, Glorfindel!" he was nearly shouting. "I resent that you feel you are placating me, or worse yet, soothing me! I never, never asked you to become me! I only ask that you understand me and accept me for who I am."  He moved closer, his arms stiff at his sides. "And to accept my apologies when I offer them, and not storm out like a petulant elfling whenever we disagree!"

Glorfindel stared at him for a moment, hurt clearly evident in his eyes.  When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was very quiet.  "I was once like you, so serious, so dedicated to my duty.  My entire being was wrapped up in what I did, in earning the respect of my peers and masters."  He sighed.  "After what I have been through, what I have seen, I recognize that even for an elf, life can be short, Haldir.  I will waste no more time acting proper, playing the part of the staid, serious advisor.  The fact that I play pranks, appreciate bawdy humor, makes me no less dedicated to my duty than you are.  The difference between you and I is that I live life, Haldir, not just muddle through it under the guise of duty."  He picked up his sword and wiped it clean, placing it back in its sheath.  “I am sorry you have wasted so much time on me, on so petulant an elf.  Perhaps when you finally sail west you can ask the Valar yourself why you and I were thrown together when it was clearly a waste of your time."  He walked away.

"Glorfindel!" Haldir cried, his pride refusing to allow him to follow. "Do not walk away from me."

Glorfindel left the arena with his head bowed, looking as if the weight of all of Arda rested on his shoulders.

Haldir stared after him until he disappeared from view, before his face crumbled with anger and grief. He dropped to his knees, the sand cushioning the impact of his fall, and bowed his head. For a long time, he knelt, motionless, only the fine trembling of his shoulders giving testimony to his pain and heartache.  Finally he rose, wiping his hand across his eyes and drying them. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his expression, until he wore a mask of calm, stoic composure. He stepped from the sands without looking back.

< > < > < >

Galathil curled next to Erestor, enjoying the warmth of his silky skin against his own. The Noldo’s arms were curled around him, holding him even as he slept, and Galathil could hear the slow and steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his ear. 

He should be asleep by now, but he was not. By rights, his body should not be stirring the way it was, especially after the last lesson Erestor had given him. Yet he could not help the way his body responded to the simple touch of Erestor’s bare skin against his own. His arousal throbbed insistently, and he could not keep from pressing it against Erestor’s thigh.

He raised himself slightly on his elbow and looked down at the sleeping Noldo. Erestor’s lovely dark eyes were glazed in reverie, and Galathil smiled to himself. His lover’s eyes were one of his most arresting features; eyes so dark they appeared almost black, especially in the heat of passion, were framed by lashes so thick and dark they appeared to have been daubed with soot. They were expressive eyes, capable of evincing so many different emotions, but Galathil loved them best when they burned with desire. 

His gaze traveled across the aquiline nose and finely sculpted cheekbones, before resting in fascination on Erestor’s mouth. It really was difficult to decide which was his lover’s best feature, really: his eyes, or his luscious mouth, so red it seemed to have been stained by wine or berry juice. It was a mouth made for kissing, for nibbling, for sucking on. He could never get enough of the taste of Erestor’s mouth, and he relished every kiss his lover bestowed upon him. 

Galathil shifted slightly against Erestor’s body, but his movement did not wake his lover as he continued his visual exploration. His eyes followed the smooth column of Erestor’s throat to where it joined with his collarbone. His fingers itched to trace the delicate skin there, where it stretched to thinness, knowing it was even softer and silkier than it looked. He continued downward, admiring the muscles and planes of his lover’s chest, still well defined from his years of training with the sword and archery. His arousal throbbed at the thought of tracing the line between Erestor’s pectorals, before snaking across to lightly tease a pale, dusky colored nipple until it hardened deliciously beneath his tongue. 

The sheet covered Erestor’s body just below his stomach, and Galathil carefully lifted it away, his breath stilling as his gaze drifted lower. A light dusting of hair, the same ebony color as what fell from Erestor’s head covered the base of his lover’s arousal. The length of silky flesh lay nestled, soft and harmless looking, between Erestor’s lean thighs, but Galathil knew from experience what it looked like when fully aroused. He sighed quietly, remembering the feel of Erestor’s hardness filling him, stretching him, taking him to heights of pleasure he did not know existed. 

Pulling his gaze away from Erestor’s length, he continued his slow perusal, admiring the finely shaped muscles in his lover’s thighs and calves, before finally ending at a pair of elegant and graceful looking feet. A smile curved his lips, and he began to retrace his path. 

Erestor had shifted slightly at some point and his legs had parted, one bending slightly at the knee, giving Galathil a tantalizing glimpse of the tender skin at the back of his knee. Unable to resist such a tempting treat, he leaned forward, swiping his tongue across the crease.  Erestor shifted again in his sleep, and Galathil darted a worried glance at his lover’s face, worried that his impulsive behavior may have awakened him. To his relief, Erestor’s eyes were still glazed, his breathing slow and even.

Silently chastising himself for his foolishness, he returned to his visual exploration. 

Was it his imagination, or did Erestor’s length look a little more substantial than it had when he had first gazed at it? He was not certain, but he felt an almost unbearable urge to lightly stroke the soft, velvet skin of his lover’s length, to watch it grow and harden beneath his hands. Even better than that would be to take the softness into his mouth and feel it expand slowly, filling him until he could hold no more. 

His own arousal wept freely, throbbing insistently against his leg, and he struggled to ignore it as he swept his gaze upwards, inch by inch, lingering on Erestor’s nipples for several moments, before finally returning to his lover’s beautiful face.

Eyes so dark they appeared black glittered up at him in amusement and something else he could not name. 

“Enjoying yourself, my prince?” Erestor asked softly.

Galathil felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at having been caught. “Forgive me, my lord,” he stammered. “I did not mean to rouse you.”

Erestor reached for Galathil’s hand and placed it directly on his fully hardened arousal. “But rouse me you have, princeling.” His generous mouth curved into a wicked smile. “What do you intend to do about it?”

It took him several tries to form the words. “What would my lord wish of me?”

The Noldo’s eyelids lowered halfway as he looked up at Galathil. Instead of answering, he reached up, pulling Galathil across his chest. His lean thighs parted as he settled Galathil between them, and the Prince gave a soft, needful groan.
 
“I think, perhaps, it is time to know something of what you would wish, my prince,” Erestor said gently. His hands slid across Galathil’s back and down, before coming to rest on the curves of the Prince’s bottom. His black gaze met Galathil’s and held him captive. “What would you wish of me, my prince?” he demanded quietly. 

His mouth felt unaccountably dry as he realized what Erestor was offering. He licked his lips, looking down at his lover with open hunger. 

“Everything,” Galathil breathed softly. “I would wish for everything, my lord.”

A soft chuckle escaped Erestor and he arched his eyebrow delicately. “That is quite a request, melethron,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps we should start simply?”

Galathil nodded, feeling foolish. “Aye,” he replied, rocking his hips against Erestor’s and drawing a soft gasp from his lover’s lips. He smiled, pleased that he had elicited such a reaction. “Kiss me, my lord.”

Erestor’s smile widened as he moved his hands upward to cradle Galathil’s face. “Yes, my prince,” he replied, drawing his mouth to his own. 

He felt as if the air had been knocked out of him as Erestor kissed him hungrily, his tongue hot and insistent as it slid into his mouth. Hands drew him closer, holding him still as his lover plundered and ravaged his mouth, finally giving him a taste at what Erestor’s kisses had hinted at all along. He opened his mouth wider, whimpering low in the back of his throat as Erestor’s tongue slid deeper into his mouth, curling to flick teasingly against his teeth. His lover drew his tongue into his mouth and sucked on it, making Galathil moan helplessly. 

Galathil’s hips ground sinuously against Erestor’s. The slippery fluid that leaked from their arousals made the sensation of skin rubbing over skin even more delicious. Galathil struggled to keep a tenuous hold on his control as he deliberately slid their lengths together, and it was Erestor who finally broke from the kiss to groan in pleasure. 

His mouth free to explore, Galathil did not hesitate to indulge in his earlier fantasy to taste Erestor fully. He raised his upper body on his arms so he could fasten his mouth to the thin skin where Erestor’s neck met his shoulder. He drew the delicate skin into his mouth hard, sucking on it even as his tongue swirled over the flesh he bruised. Erestor purred, his hands burying themselves in Galathil’s hair as his body arched beneath him. 

Galathil drew back, pleased at the small red mark he had made on the pale skin of his lover’s neck. He had marked him as his for now, though part of him was stunned that Erestor had allowed it. Intrigued, he bit gently on the tender skin just below the pit of his lover’s arm, and he felt Erestor give a delightful shudder beneath him.

His tongue drew circles down the narrow path between the muscles of Erestor’s chest, before moving to explore his nipple. The skin pebbled beneath his tongue, and he drew the hardened peak between his lips, sucking on it as he had Erestor’s neck. His lover cried out softly, his eyes closed in pleasure. Smiling against the silken warmth of Erestor’s skin, he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same, loving attention. Erestor’s hands tightened their grip in his hair when he drew the nipple between his teeth, biting gently. 

“Ai!” Erestor cried, shuddering once more. “Saes, Galathil.”

Hearing his lover plead with him this way was more exciting than he could have possibly imagined. He continued his torment of the hardened nub, licking it, nipping it gently with his teeth, loving the feel of Erestor’s body writhing beneath his. Finally, he heeded his lover’s soft pleading words, wondering if Erestor himself knew he was speaking them, and moved downward. He could not help but linger at the small indentation at the center of Erestor’s stomach, loving the way the skin jumped and trembled when he delved his tongue into it deeply. He could hear his lover’s ragged breathing, his soft, needful groans the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. 

Galathil used the tip of his tongue to trace a wet path down the rest of Erestor’s stomach, before he nuzzled the soft hairs that grew at the base of his lover’s arousal. The scent that rose from Erestor’s skin was heady – an intoxicating combination of musk and spice he could almost taste on the back of his tongue. He buried his nose in the soft skin at the juncture of Erestor’s groin and nipped the flesh with his teeth, leaving another mark of his passage. 

“Saes, melethron,” Erestor murmured huskily. “Touch me.”

He rolled his eyes up to meet the burning gaze of his lover’s and smiled wickedly. “Patience, my lord,” he whispered, sliding his tongue along the crease of his hip. “I will savor every moment of this and not be hurried.”

A weak chuckle escaped Erestor. “Very well,” he managed, closing his eyes as Galathil finally gave into his own need and ran his tongue over the crown of Erestor’s length.

He had tasted Erestor this way before, many times, as a matter of fact, but it never ceased to thrill him, the combination of smell and flavor that was uniquely Erestor’s. He filled his mouth with it, taking it as deeply as he could, before letting the velvety hardness slip through his lips. His tongue flicked out against the tip, gathering the droplets that had formed there and rolling them on his tongue, savoring the taste. He drew it between his lips once more, his teeth lightly scraping over the skin as he swallowed his lover’s length deeply. 

Erestor’s hands gripped the sheets beneath him and his hips rose and fell with the steady rhythm of Galathil’s motions. He could hear his lover’s breathing quicken, his groans taking a desperate edge as he brought him towards the pinnacle of his pleasure. Galathil’s own arousal ached where it pressed against the mattress but he ignored it, concentrating solely on giving his lover pleasure. His hands gripped Erestor’s thighs and spread them wider, before brushing his fingers teasingly over his lover’s opening. 

Erestor shuddered, crying out, and his length seemed to swell between Galathil’s lips before the warmth of his seed spilled into his throat. He swallowed, his mouth working to catch every drop, milking his lover’s arousal until Erestor was twitching beneath him. He drew back, finally, letting the length of flesh slip from his lips. 

Galathil rested his head against one trembling thigh and looked up at Erestor, smiling at the flushed and debauched look on his lover’s face. 

Licking his kiss-swollen lips, Erestor smiled back at Galathil, his eyes still hungry and dark. “Do you wish to have me, my prince?” he asked huskily.

He blinked; stunned that Erestor would offer him the one thing he never dreamed he would have. He licked his own lips and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Erestor reached across the bed to the small table, his fingers closing on the jar of salve. Without a word, he handed it to Galathil, and spread his legs invitingly.

Galathil took it from him with fingers that trembled with excitement. “Are you certain, my lord?” he whispered. 

Dark eyes seemed to burn him with their heat. “Take me, Galathil. I wish to feel you inside me.”

He needed no further urging, and he managed to open the jar, scooping out a generous portion of the slippery substance with his fingers. He coated his arousal thoroughly, groaning softly at the touch of his hand on his flesh. He gathered more of the salve on two fingers before setting the jar aside. Taking a deep breath, he deliberately locked his gaze with Erestor’s, and slid his fingers into his lover’s heat.

Smooth, heated walls gripped his fingers as he pushed them deep, and he groaned softly, imagining what that heat would feel like surrounding his length. He twisted his fingers slightly within their tight prison, curling them, seeking out the small bundle of nerves he knew would give Erestor pleasure. His index finger brushed against it, and he was rewarded with a rumbling groan, his lover’s body quivering in response. 

Erestor’s length was already starting to re-awaken, and Galathil used his other hand to stroke it into hardness once more. His fingers thrust, curling, finding his mark again, and he finally heard the words he wanted to hear.

“Saes, Galathil. Do not make me wait,” Erestor whispered, his eyes closing tight. 

He moved, leaning forward to brush his lips against his lover’s. “As you wish, my lord,” he murmured. He withdrew his fingers from Erestor’s body and placed the tip of his arousal against his opening. Bending his head to claim Erestor’s lips once more, he slowly pushed forward, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and sliding into his lover’s welcoming body. Tight heat gripped him so deliciously he was nearly undone. He held himself still, sheathed in Erestor’s body, and took a trembling breath. 

Erestor’s eyes fluttered open, his brows slightly drawn as he looked up at Galathil.

A small, trembling smile curved Galathil’s lips. He wanted to remember this moment forever. “Melon lle, Erestor,” he whispered, almost shyly.

His lover’s smile was tender, though his eyes burned with heat. “Move, prince,” he whispered back.

Galathil moved. His mouth claimed Erestor’s in a bruising kiss as he began to thrust, his tongue mimicking the actions of his body. The need for air and to give voice to his pleasure made him finally draw back, his hand gripping one of his lover’s thighs and lifting it higher against his chest. His other hand curled around Erestor’s length, stroking it in opposition with his thrusts. 

Erestor groaned, his hips lifting to meet Galathil’s thrusts, taking him deeper, and he felt his lover shudder with pleasure when his length struck his mark. He shifted slightly, aiming for it again, and was rewarded by a deep, breathless moan. He felt Erestor tighten around him, his passage squeezing him mercilessly and he cried out. The warmth of his lover’s seed spilled over his fingers as he buried his length deep, his own body shuddering as he attained his release.

Utterly spent, he collapsed against Erestor’s chest, his length still twitching inside his lover’s body as he gasped for breath.  Arms reached up to enfold him, stroking the light sweat from his skin, and he felt the soft press of Erestor’s lips against his forehead.

“Hannon lle, Erestor,” he said finally, when he could speak.  He heard his lover’s soft chuckle.

“You are welcome, my prince.”

His length softened and slid free, and Galathil rolled from the bed, mindful of his lover’s limbs. He padded soundlessly across the room and fetched a cloth, which he dampened from the bowl of water on the washing stand. He retraced his steps and knelt beside Erestor on the bed. Using the damp cloth, he thoroughly and lovingly cleaned the traces of their passion from Erestor’s skin, before applying it to his own. Tossing the cloth in the basket that held soiled clothing, he curled his body next to Erestor’s, snuggling against him.

He felt Erestor’s arm curl around his shoulders, pressing him closer for a moment, and he sighed, utterly content.

“Are you well pleased, my prince?” Erestor asked softly.

“Yes, my Lord,” he replied sleepily. 

“Good,” Erestor murmured.

Galathil turned his head so he could see his lover’s face better. “May I ask you a question, my lord?” he asked hesitantly.

A dark eyebrow quirked upwards before Erestor finally nodded. “What is it, Galathil?”

“Have you ever…”

“Let one of my pupils take me?” Erestor finished for him. He smiled faintly and shook his head. “No, Galathil. Now go to sleep.”

Galathil smiled. “Yes, my lord,” he whispered, curling against Erestor once more.  He felt his body relax as he finally succumbed to reverie. 

< > < > < >

Haldir carried the few belongings he had brought with him to Mirkwood to the room he had been given, grateful that the servant had been content to simply point the way without following him. 

Setting his belongings aside, he shut the door and locked it behind him. He leaned against the door for a moment, glancing over his new quarters without much interest. His eyes fell naturally on the bed, and he saw that it was smaller than the one he had shared with Glorfindel. Emotion threatened to overwhelm him and he viciously pushed his hurt and anger away. He would not grieve like his heart had been torn from him, shattered into a million pieces. 

Even if it was true.

He stumbled slightly when he stepped away from the door. He felt weary, drained, as if he had spent the last few hours battling orcs instead of his former lover.  He straightened, stiffening his spine and clinging to what was left of his pride. 

Glorfindel was the one who had finally walked away, not him. It was Glorfindel’s fault, not his. 

Haldir undressed and slid beneath the sheets, reaching up to extinguish the small lamp on the bedside table. He folded his arms beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling.

Perhaps it was all for the best, he tried to convince himself, blinking in the darkness. He felt something warm and wet slide down his cheek, but ignored it. It was better to find out now that Glorfindel did not love him, did not want him, did not need him. 

He was better off without him, he thought, tears sliding unheeded down his cheeks. He was far better off alone.

< > < > < >

Glorfindel stared up in the blackness of his room, trying to ignore how empty the bed felt with only him in it, trying to ignore the way his former lover’s scent seemed to permeate the sheets. He did not acknowledge the ache in his heart and body, or the remorse that filled him for his harshly spoken words. He refused to remember the hurt in Haldir’s eyes, or the sound of Haldir’s voice when he called after him. 

It was better now, to have found out that he and Haldir were not meant to be, before things went too far. It was better to know that they were not as compatible as he had thought, despite the way the way his heart ached with an emptiness that threatened to consume him. He convinced himself that Haldir had never truly loved him for himself, that he had never understood him or accepted him at all. They were far too different for it to have ever worked out happily. He understood that now, even if his heart cried out differently. He had tried, hadn’t he?  But what was he supposed to do, change who he was?  Haldir was not willing to do that.  So why should he be willing?

He rolled to his side, clutching the pillow that still held Haldir’s scent. 

Glorfindel tasted his own tears, and they tasted of bitterness. Yes, he thought, clutching the pillow tighter, drying his tears against the softness. He was far better off alone, as he always imagined he would be.

Chapter 12

Galathil appeared before his father, his countenance a bit wiser than it was the last time he stood in his father’s office.  He clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat, causing his father to look up from the parchment he was reading to gaze upon his son.

“Adar?” he asked softly, “May I have a word with you?”

Thranduil sat back in his chair, already noticing the change that had come over his eldest.  “Of course, Iôn.”  He motioned to the chair Galathil was standing next to.  “Please, sit.”

Galathil perched nervously on the edge of the chair, his hands folded upon his knees.

“How are things going with you and Lord Erestor, Iôn?  Has he been a good tutor?” Thranduil fought to keep the corners of his lips from curving into a smile.

Galathil flushed briefly and looked at the floor as he nodded.  “Aye, Adar.  He has been most… dedicated.”  He cleared his throat, looked back at his father, and continued, “Actually, that is the reason I am here.  I would like your permission to continue my studies with Lord Erestor after he departs Mirkwood.”

Thranduil raised one eyebrow and folded his ringed fingers together, resting his hands upon the desktop.  “Lord Erestor has asked you to accompany him back to Imladris?”

Galathil flushed again.  “Well… not exactly.  I thought I would offer myself to him as an apprentice.  He has been pleased with my lessons thus far, I do not think he would object.”  He swallowed.  “Though he will require your permission.  That is why I came to you.”

Thranduil nodded, fighting once again to conceal the smile that threatened to spread across his lips.  “Why is Erestor not here asking himself, Iôn?  Have you discussed this with him?”

“Yes,” Galathil answered.  “He said we would need to speak with you first.  Lord Erestor is so busy, I thought I would…”

Thranduil raised his hand, effectively silencing his son.  “You cannot go to Imladris, Galathil.  Mirkwood’s defenses are hard pressed enough and it would be unfair to your brother and your regiment to allow you to leave.

Galathil leapt from his chair and begged his father, “Ada!  Please!  I cannot stay here when he leaves!  I will die without him!”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows in surprise.  He thought his son was infatuated with Erestor, but this protest was wholly unlike Galathil and far too strenuous for a mere physical attraction.  “What are you saying, Galathil?  What do you mean you will die?”

“I love him, Ada.  With all my heart, I love him; I cannot be without him, just as you cannot be without…” his eyes widened and he clamped his hand over his mouth.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and slowly rose from his chair.  “There is no use hiding it from me, Galathil.  I know you were there, I know what you saw.”  He leaned forward and looked his son in the eye.  “Now would be a very good time to learn discretion, Iôn.  Lest you wish to see this realm in ruins and your brother and I banished.”

Galathil flushed bright red and looked at the floor.  “You know I was there?” he asked softly.

Thranduil nodded.  “Aye, nothing happens in this Palace without my knowledge.  I trust you with my life and with your brother’s life.  Do you understand?”

Galathil nodded.  “Yes, Ada.  I promise, I will not fail you.”

Thranduil nodded and smiled briefly.  “I did not think you would.  For all our differences, Galathil, you have been a good and loyal son.”

Galathil smiled weakly at his father.  “Thank you, Ada.”

Thranduil nodded.  “Now, back to this matter concerning Erestor.  Has he told you he loves you as well?”

Galathil shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.  “Well, not exactly.”

Thranduil slammed his hand down on the desk and bellowed to his assistant.  “Amras!  Get Erestor in here immediately!”

Galathil jumped as his father pounded the desk and bellowed his discontent.  Thranduil’s anger, once roused, was not easily put to bed.  He stammered, “Please, Ada, do not…”

Thranduil turned toward his son.  “Not one more word from you, Galathil.  Sit.”

Galathil quickly sat down and clamped his mouth closed, the color draining from his face.

Several minutes later, Erestor appeared in Thranduil’s office.

"Yes, my Lord? You wanted to speak with me?" Erestor flicked an invisible bit of lint from his immaculate black robes.

Thranduil stared down his old tutor and sometime advisor. "My son tells me he is in love with you, Erestor.   When I asked you to tutor him, I did not expect you would steal his heart.  Tell me, just what are your intentions toward my son?"

Erestor met his gaze unflinchingly. "My intentions, my Lord?"  He sighed. "I have seen this happen before in those that I teach. It is not uncommon. You yourself, my Lord, wanted to serve me for the rest of your days."
Thranduil drew up to his full height, crossing his arms over his substantial chest.  "Serve you yes, seek pleasure with you, yes.... Fall in love with you?  Absolutely not.  No offense, mellonamin."  He leveled his gaze on the Noldo. "You taught me well, Erestor, and for that I will be forever grateful.  But I promise you, I was never..." he motioned toward a pale Galathil, "in love with you.  Not like that."
Erestor shifted, folding his hands behind his back. His expression was somewhat strained. "Yes, my Lord.  It was not my intent for the Prince to fall in love with me." He sighed, glancing at his feet. "Nor I with him."
Thranduil leaned forward, his intimidating gaze settled on the Noldo. "Now I do not know what has transpired between the two of you.” He held up his hand to silence his son's impending protest.  "But I expect you to fix this, and do it immediately. I will not have my son wandering my palace pining away for you, Erestor."
Erestor glanced at Galathil and saw the anguish written plainly on his fair face. He turned his gaze back to Thranduil and managed not to flinch at the King's expression. "Forgive me, my Lord," Erestor said humbly. "That was not the intent at all when I began my instruction with him."

Thranduil furrowed his brow. "What exactly was your intent, Erestor?  For your lessons seem to have gone astray."

Erestor stiffened. "They have not. Galathil learned well the lessons you wished for him to learn; and in that, my intent was successful."
Thranduil glared at Erestor.  "He also apparently learned to give his heart to one who had not asked for it nor intended to take it when offered." He cocked his head and raised one finely arched eyebrow.  "Unless you have something to tell me."

"I did not teach him that, my Lord, with all due respect." Erestor's face paled. "I never asked for his heart."

Thranduil leaned forward, his eyes burning holes through Erestor's facade.  "But, that is exactly what has happened.  Now, I ask again, what do you intend to do about it?"
Erestor's composure crumbled.  "Love him, my Lord," he said simply, holding is hands out in front of him. "Love him. For there is more invested in this than I ever intended."

Thranduil's eyes widened as he stood back up.  "That may be your intention, but is it something you are capable of doing?"  He cocked his head. "Do you love my son, Erestor?"

Erestor nodded slowly. "I do, my Lord." He swallowed, folding his robes in his fists. "Against my better judgment and good sense, I do, with all my heart."
Thranduil chuckled and shook his head.  "Rarely do good sense and judgement go hand in hand with love, Erestor."  He smiled at his son then turned back to the Counselor.  "You have my blessing, mellonamin.  Be good to him."

Erestor let out the breath he had been holding slowly. "Thank you, my lord," he said, touching his heart and bowing his head. "I will."

Thranduil smiled broadly as he sat back down in his chair.  "Now go, both of you, before *my* better judgment takes hold and I change *my* mind."

Erestor reached for Galathil and pulled him into his arms. "Foolish Princeling," he whispered tenderly. "Do you know what it is you have gotten yourself into?"

Galathil was nearly hysterical with relief and joy, his face beaming as he and Erestor left his father’s office, not taking note of the soft laughter they left behind.

< > < > < >

Thranduil retired to the stables after a particularly taxing day.  One of his finest broodmares was preparing to foal and he and Elrohir walked to check on her together.  As they came over a small hill leading to the pastures and foaling stalls, Thranduil spotted Glorfindel sitting on the ground under a tree, feeding Asfaloth an apple.  Never in all his days had he seen one so miserable.

Elrohir stopped next to the King and looked at his seneschal.  “By Elbereth, what has happened to him?” he asked softly. 

Thranduil shook his head gently and softly answered, “That, my beautiful young Peredhil, is the look of one who has just had their heart broken.”  He patted Elrohir on the back.  “Go and see to Sador, I will follow shortly.”

Elrohir nodded and quietly made his way to check on the gray mare.

Thranduil approached quietly and leaned against the same tree Glorfindel sat under.  “I wish I had a stallion as fine as your Asfaloth in my herd.  Only my Bregolas comes close.”

Glorfindel nodded and answered softly, “Perhaps Asfaloth would take to one of your mares, breeding season is just beginning again.”

Thranduil nodded. “Aye, ‘tis true.  Unless you will be leaving soon.  I saw Haldir preparing to depart for Lórien to bear our happy news.”

Glorfindel looked at the ground and shook his head.  “I will not be accompanying Haldir to the Golden Wood, my Lord.  I will wait for my Lord and Lady’s arrival, then return to Imladris with them.”

Thranduil nodded and took a seat on the ground beside the warrior.  “So, ‘tis as I suspected, you and the marchwarden are no more then?”

Glorfindel shook his head, but made no answer.

Thranduil sat quietly with the warrior for a few moments then changed the topic to one they had in common.  “Well, if you will be in Mirkwood for a bit longer, perhaps you would be willing to do something for me?”

Glorfindel took a deep breath and looked at the King.  “What do you require of me, my Lord?” he asked softly.

Thranduil smiled and answered, “My soldiers could use a fresh perspective on battle tactics.  My finest regiment is riding out after the next full moon with Legolas at its head to patrol the southern reaches of my realm.  I would appreciate it if you would accompany them.”

Glorfindel nodded and answered, “Aye, my Lord.  I would be happy to.”

Thranduil patted the warrior on the thigh and answered, “Most excellent.  Elladan will be joining you as well, and I look forward to hearing your report upon your return.”  He rose from the ground and continued, “And I will talk later with you about presenting Asfaloth to my herd.”

“Very well, my Lord,” Glorfindel answered.  He continued stroking Asfaloth’s muzzle as the King departed.

< > < > < >

Legolas rode at the head of a column of elves, followed closely by Glorfindel and Elladan, with the remaining elves of his regiment following behind in single file.  He had an inkling the area they were patrolling had some new and unwanted guests.

Legolas' keen eyes spotted something familiar hanging from the low branch of the tree ahead of him.  He halted his horse; his handsome face contorted in disgust as he reached out and snagged the long strand of sticky webbing from the branch.

"Ungol," he said, wiping his hand in revulsion against his leg.

Now that he knew what to look for, Glorfindel could see other trees that bore the same, sticky residue that Legolas had found.  "It looks like we are on the right trail," he said, gesturing above them.

The elves in the party looked up into the branches. Strands of webbing hung like ropes, some spanning several feet between the trees. It was obvious this was a regular path the spiders traveled upon.

"Be alert," Legolas said quietly, drawing his bow. "They are quite skilled in stalking.”

Elladan tensed, searching the area around them, all his senses on alert as his horse whinnied anxiously. The other elves in their party all drew their weapons.

The attack came without warning.

A length of sticky webbing shot out from above them, immediately ensnaring one of the guards and dragging him from his horse.

Glorfindel surged forward, his sword already swinging, and cut the strands that held the elf, before confronting one of the great monsters that had descended from the tree. 

The air was filled with the sound of arrows and the slight twang of bowstrings as the elves began firing into the trees and surrounding brush.

Legolas gave a fierce cry, firing his bow, moving to intercept the spider that was headed for Glorfindel. The spider gave a hideous screech as a green fletched arrow penetrated its abdomen and it whirled to confront its attacker. 

Elladan moved swiftly, for neither Glorfindel nor Legolas saw the third spider, poised to pounce from above.  The spider leapt from the tree straight onto Glorfindel, pinning the elf to the forest floor. Elladan cried out, his sword already in motion as he desperately moved to reach Glorfindel in time.

Time seemed to slow as the spider's stinger plunged into Glorfindel's abdomen, pumping its toxin into his body.

With a scream of fury, Elladan's sword swung out, stabbing out one of its many eyes. Screeching in pain and fury, the spider turned to deal with this new attack.

The other elves moved in to help, and though Elladan was a skilled fighter, he was grateful for their assistance. The spider died with a horrible squeal, its legs twitching in its death throes as it fell to the side. He knelt quickly beside Glorfindel’s fallen form. The Vanya’s eyes were closed, his skin had taken on a strange, gray hue, and his breathing was almost non-existent. Hearing Legolas’ shout, he glanced up in time to see the Prince drive his knives deeply into the head of the spider he fought. 

Breathing heavily from his exertions, Legolas moved quickly to Elladan’s side, dropping to his knees alongside Glorfindel.  He took one look at the Balrog Slayer’s still form and shook his head.

“He has been poisoned,” he said worriedly, glancing around him. He saw the spider that had attacked Glorfindel and examined its corpse. “He was stung by one of the smaller, guardian spiders. They defend the nest against attacks, and their sting carries a poison, rather than a sleeping agent.” He looked at Elladan and shook his head. “They do not strike their targets for food, but to kill.”

Elladan’s face paled. “Your people have a remedy for this poison, I hope?”

Legolas dropped his gaze to Glorfindel’s face and swallowed. “No,” he whispered. “We do not.”  He gently touched Elladan on the shoulder. “He has maybe a day or two before the poison reaches his heart. Then he will die.”  Tears glittered in his eyes as he gripped Elladan’s shoulder tightly. “I am sorry, meldiramin.”

“No,” Elladan said, reaching out and pulling Glorfindel’s body into his arms. He rose to his feet. “I will not accept that. There has to be something we can do.”  Asfaloth bowed low, accepting the limp form of his master, and held still while Elladan mounted behind him.  He turned the stallion back towards the Great Hall, not caring if the others followed him or not. 

< > < > < >

Haldir rode behind his lord and lady, feeling his heart sink with each step that brought him back to Mirkwood. He had not wished to return. He wanted nothing more than to resume his duties on the fences of the Northern borders and forget about Glorfindel. He planned to bury his heartache in his duties. However, due to his brothers’ interference, he was back, riding towards the one elf he did not wish to see. 

He bitterly regretted telling Orophin and Rúmil what had transpired between himself and his former lover. He had thought they would sympathize with him and offer him some comfort and words of support. Instead, while his brothers had been sympathetic, they also had informed him that he was being a fool.

“Do you think that love is easy?” Orophin had asked, folding his arms and staring down at his older brother. “Do you think that every relationship is perfect and full of constant bliss?”

Rúmil had taken a place beside Haldir on the floor of their talan. “It is not,” he had said, sliding his arm across Haldir’s shoulders. “Nor is it always an equal partnership. Sometimes you have to compromise, find a place where you both can find equal ground.”

“Glorfindel is right in that you take yourself far too seriously, muindor,” Orophin had continued. “You have forgotten how to relax, enjoy what life has to offer. I do not mean that you should loll about being foolish and silly like a senseless elfling, but neither should you forget what it means to have fun.”

“You worry far too much about what others might think of you. You worry that if you let your mask slip for even an instant and show your softer side, that others will not take you seriously,” Rúmil had said. “We know you for who you are, and we see the side you show to others. You should not worry that if others see your inner self that they will think less of you.”

“More likely, they would respect you more, like you more,” Orophin had added with a grin. “You are not an easy elf to get to know, but those who know you, know what a fine elf you are. They know that beneath that calm, cool exterior is the heart of an elf that is brave, strong, fiercely loyal, and passionate about the things he believes in. You have given Glorfindel merely a glimpse of this, muindor. He fell in love with only a taste of what you are. You should not let this end the way it has.”

“Go with the Lord and Lady and Lord Elrond’s family back to Mirkwood. Entreat Glorfindel to listen to you. Show him your heart; show him who you really are. Tell him how much he means to you,” Orophin had entreated softly.

Rúmil had nodded. “A love like the one you share with Glorfindel is rare and special indeed, muindor. Do not let it slip through your fingers because of your pride. Do not lose this over something so foolish.”

“Do not let yourself be alone because you cannot admit that in some ways, Glorfindel was right,” Orophin had said quietly. 

Haldir had looked at them both and shook his head. “When did my muindyr become so wise in the ways of love?”

A look had passed between them that he could not decipher.

“We want to see you happy, Haldir,” Orophin had replied. 

He had not wanted to return. They had pleaded with him, using their persuasive arguments against his own. In the end, when they could not sway him with their words, they had left him alone. He had thought at the time that they had given up.

Until Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had sent for him the night before their departure for Mirkwood.

He should have known his brothers would not have given up so easily.

They said nothing of Glorfindel, which had surprised him. Instead, he was informed that his presence was required on the journey, as they both felt more secure knowing the Captain of the Galadhrim was escorting them. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he had nodded and turned to leave. Galadriel’s parting words to him had not eased matters any. 

“Beside, Haldir. I believe you have some unfinished business in Mirkwood that needs tending to.” Her starry eyes had spoken volumes. 

Turning on his heel, he had fled their presence and retreated to his own talan to think.

He had been still so full of anger and hurt when he left Mirkwood. As the leagues had passed, his anger had faded, and it had taken all his will not to turn about and head back to Thranduil’s hall, to seek out Glorfindel and beg him to take him back.

Pride had prevented him from doing just that.

Now, as he rode beneath the greenery of Mirkwood, his brothers riding on either side of him, he realized that pride had been his biggest problem of all.

Haldir’s fingers idly played with his horse’s mane as he silently reeled from his revelation. He realized finally the truth in his brothers’ words, and how utterly foolish he had been. 

It was a rare and special gift and he had thrown it away in anger. In all his long years of life, he had never felt for another elf the way he felt for Glorfindel. Which was worth more: the opinion of others, or Glorfindel’s love? Where was the joy in living if one did not have another to share it with?

He realized something else as well, something that surprised him, yet gave him something to hope for: he loved Glorfindel with all his heart, and he would do anything to have another chance to prove it.

He only hoped that when the time came, Glorfindel would give it to him.

< > < > < >

“My Lord!” Amras burst into Thranduil’s study.  “The patrol returns, there are wounded among them!"

Thranduil rose from his chair so quickly he nearly knocked it over.  “Legolas!  Is my son hurt?”  He held is breath as he waited for an answer.

“Nay, my Lord,” Amras answered.  “He rides at the front of the column, however, three have suffered injuries, and the Lord Glorfindel is seriously wounded.”

Thranduil came from around his desk and quickly made his way to the palace gate.

As he pushed the heavy doors open, he heard the sound of clattering hooves crossing the bridge as the elves rode through the heavy iron gates.  Legolas was indeed in front, and appeared unharmed, but following him was Elladan upon the stallion Asfaloth, and he held Glorfindel’s limp form in his arms.  He rushed forward and lifted the limp Vanya from Asfaloth’s back as the stallion bowed.  Elladan slid off behind the injured warrior and followed Thranduil into the palace.

“What happened?” he asked as he carried the warrior to the healer’s quarters.

Elladan was on his heel as he replied, “Spider attack.  He was struck down.”

Legolas hurried behind them as the unhurt members of the party helped their injured comrades.  “It was a guardian, Adar.  It unloaded a full dose of poison into him before Elladan and the others could kill it.

The color drained from Thranduil’s face, but his gait did not pause as he turned the corner for the healer’s quarters.  He laid the warrior’s limp form upon a cot as the elf in charge of the staff of healers rushed forward.  The King placed a hand upon the healer’s shoulder and said quietly, “Make him comfortable, mellon, there is nothing more to be done.”

Elladan grasped Thranduil’s arm and pleaded with him, “Please, my Lord.  We cannot just let him die!  There must be something, some magic, some spell you could weave…”

Thranduil caressed Elladan’s face and slowly shook his head.  “I am sorry, meleth.  My magic does not reach so far, I cannot call back those who walk the path to Mandos’ halls.”  He drew Elladan into his arms and kissed the top of his head.  “I would do all that I could, pen-neth, but this is beyond my reach.  I am not a healer.”

Elladan pulled away, tears tracking down his face as he answered, “Well I am a healer, and I will not let him go!”  He dropped to his knees next to the fallen warrior and placed his hands upon his heart.  He fell quickly into a healing trance as the others around him looked on in surprise.

Elrohir burst into the healer’s chambers and found his brother on his knees next to Glorfindel’s limp form, and he rushed forward.  Legolas caught him by the arm, and Elrohir turned to look at his lover’s tear stained face.

“He is fatally wounded, meleth,” Legolas said softly, “Elladan is trying to save him, but I fear it is too late.”

Elrohir looked at Legolas in shock, slowly shaking his head and muttering, “No… ‘tis not true.”

Legolas nodded and whispered, “I am so sorry, Elrohir.”

Elrohir looked at Thranduil.  “My Lord?” he asked, his voice small and distant.

Thranduil nodded slowly and quietly answered, “My son speaks the truth, pen-neth.”

Elrohir shook his head violently and barked, “NO!”  He dropped to his knees beside Elladan and turned to look at Thranduil, tears streaming down his face.

Erestor and Galathil hurriedly entered the room, and Erestor was not able to contain the gasp of shock when he saw Glorfindel’s pale form.  The Noldo rushed to his friend’s bedside and picked up a cold, limp hand.

“Mellonamin,” he whispered softly.  “Glorfindel, wake, please.”

Galathil felt tears wet his cheeks as he saw the distraught look upon his tutor’s face.  Erestor’s normally steely resolve had crumbled, and his face was a mask of pain and despair.

Elrohir addressed Thranduil, “You must get my father.  Elladan is strong enough to hold him here, but not to bring him back.  Please, my father can heal him, you must find him.”

Thranduil looked at the pain in Elrohir’s eyes then to the limp form of the stricken Vanya.  He turned to his sons.  “Legolas, Galathil.  Ride to the western border of the forest, Elrond and the Lord and Lady of the Wood approach.  Fetch them here immediately.  Make haste, iynen.  We have not got much time.”

Legolas and Galathil bowed before their father and quickly departed.  Galathil paused at the door and cast one more glance at his lover as Erestor looked up at him. 

“Hurry, ernilen,” Erestor called out to Galathil.

Galathil nodded and ran after Legolas who was already nearing the courtyard.

< > < > < >

Lord Elrond rode beside Celebrían, just ahead of Galadriel and Celeborn.  They were flanked by four Galadhrim and led by Haldir and his brothers, Orophin and Rúmil.

Haldir’s head snapped up as he heard the sound of thundering hoof beats and he quickly drew his bow, hoping that it was wood elves and not some unexpected foe that approached them.  Rúmil, Orophin, and the four Galadhrim followed suit, all drawing their bows and aiming toward the approaching sound.

Legolas and Galathil’s horses burst from the treeline at a full gallop, the two Sindar Princes, shouting and waiving to the approaching party.  Haldir dropped his bow and lowered his hand, signaling his soldiers to do the same.  “Elfling games,” he muttered as the Princes approached, not showing any sign of slowing down.

Elrond felt a nagging sensation of dread fall over him and he heard Galadriel’s quiet gasp confirm it.  He squeezed his mount into a canter and rode toward the approaching princes.

“Meleth nín?” he heard Celebrían’s worried voice as he cantered away from the group.  Galadriel followed, as did Haldir and his brothers.

“My Lord Elrond!” Legolas called.  “We must make haste!  Glorfindel has been grievously wounded, he needs you immediately!”

Haldir felt the blood drain from his face as his heart was seized with fear.  “No,” he whispered. Haldir immediately squeezed his horse into a gallop, drawing along side Elrond as they raced toward the caves.  

Celeborn called to his wife,  “Go with him, meleth!  He may need your help!”

Galadriel turned and nodded to her husband and galloped away with Elrond, her white robes and golden hair flowing out behind her.

Rúmil and Orophin stayed behind with their Lord Celeborn and Lady Celebrían.  Rúmil reached across and squeezed Orophin’s thigh, and the elder brother looked into his love’s eyes, seeing them shimmer with tears.

Celebrían pressed her hand to her mouth as she suppressed her tears. Her Captain had fallen.  

Orophin reached out, clasped Rúmil’s shoulder, and gave him a reassuring nod as the remainder of the group cantered into the wood.

Chapter 13

Glorfindel awoke in a place all too familiar.  Mist surrounded him, nothing was corporeal, there was no sensation of pain, none of joy; he felt no sensation at all.  He looked at his form, recognizing it as a shadow of the vessel that once held is his body in Middle Earth.  He turned to his left, watching as a doorway formed before his eyes.  He rose to his feet and began to walk toward it when he jumped; he was not alone.  He turned and saw Elladan before him and he felt a twinge of sadness.  He reached out and caressed the Peredhil’s face.  His words came without aid of his voice, “Oh, pen-neth, it saddens me to see you here with me.”

Elladan shook his head.  “I am not here for the reason you believe, Glorfindel,” he answered softly.  “I am here to bring you back.”

Glorfindel looked past the Peredhil’s shoulder at an open doorway, beyond it was darkness, pain, despair.  “Why would you do such a thing, Elladan?” he asked quietly.

Elladan smiled and answered, “Because it is not time for you to leave, seneschal.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brow and replied, “You are not dead?”

Elladan shook his head.  “Nay, mellonamin, I am not.”  His will tugged gently at Glorfindel’s.  “Come, Glorfindel, come home with me.”

Glorfindel shook his head, striving against Elladan’s urging.  “There is nothing for me there, Elladan.  Let me go; let me return to Aman.  Mandos calls me, Elladan, I must heed him.”

“No,” Elladan answered, his grip upon Glorfindel’s spirit strengthening, “It is not Mandos who calls you, my Lord.  Do not answer the call of a liar and usurper, do not go willingly into shadow.”

“But it is have done, Elladan.  It is over, mellon, release me to my fate,” he answered quietly.

“I will not!” Elladan grappled with the Vanya’s will.  “I will not stand by and watch you fall to what you have fought all your life!  We need you, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel smiled and replied, “You no longer need me, Elladan.  You and Elrohir are grown; you are strong and capable.  There is no one who needs me now.”

“Haldir,” Elladan answered.  “He still needs you, he will be destroyed if you leave him.”

Glorfindel shook his head, “Nay, Elladan.  Haldir does not need me, he never did.  I must go now, you must release me.”

“I will not release you.  If you go, you take me with you, and if I die, Elrohir dies as well.”  He felt the strain of this battle of wills, yet he refused to let go, even if it meant his own demise.

< > < > < >

Elrohir looked worriedly at Elladan; the strain of holding on to the warrior was beginning to show.  His brow beaded with sweat, his face was drawn into a mask of sheer determination.  “Do not hold on too long, gwannig,” he whispered, “lest he take you with him.”

< > < > < >

The iron gates to Thranduil’s caves swung wide as Elrond and party galloped through the gates.  The Lord of Imladris’ feet touched the ground even before his horse came to a halt, and he hurriedly followed Legolas and Galathil to the healer’s quarters.  Haldir and Galadriel were close behind, and the Lady reached out and clasped Haldir’s hand tightly, fear radiated from him in palpable waves as they rushed down the halls.

As they entered the healer’s quarters they saw Glorfindel’s limp and lifeless body upon the cot, Erestor knelt on one side, holding the warrior’s hand, his face drawn in concentration, a prayer to Mandos issuing silently from his lips.  Thranduil stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes also closed as he uttered a protective spell, his words of warning falling heavy upon any evil that might attempt to take the fallen warrior.   Elladan and Elrohir knelt across from Erestor, Elladan was in a deep trance, his face drawn with effort, as his twin rubbed his back and prayed silently beside him.

Elrond rushed to Glorfindel’s side, quietly instructing Elrohir to rouse Elladan once he had taken hold of the warrior’s spirit.  He began chanting slowly and quietly, calling out to the Vanya’s spirit.  “Lasto beth nin. Tolo dan nan galad,” his voice was quiet and deep, but full of strength.  Galadriel and Haldir stood behind him; the Lady’s hand was upon his shoulder, lending the Lord of Imladris her full strength.

Elladan gasped and his eyes snapped open, he sank against Elrohir and looked at his twin. Elrohir drew Elladan’s weary body away from the bed and onto a bench that sat against the wall.  Legolas stood next to his father’s side, clasping his hand in his, lending his strength to his Thranduil’s so that he might aid his father in guarding against the evil that threatened to take the warrior’s spirit.

Galathil placed his arms around Erestor’s waist and leaned his head upon the Noldo’s shoulder, trying to offer his lover what comfort he may.  Erestor placed a kiss upon the Prince’s head and squeezed him tight as he watched Elrond struggle to bring the warrior back.

“He nearly escaped me, Elrohir,” Elladan whispered.  “He does not believe he has anything to live for.”  He turned his gaze to Haldir.

Haldir felt Galadriel's grip tighten on his hand a moment, before she released him. "Go, Haldir. He will heed your voice. Your love for him can bring him back."

Haldir knelt beside Glorfindel, looking down at the too-still face of his love. Tears slipped unheeded down his cheeks and he bent forward, pressing his lips against Glorfindel's forehead. "Do not leave me, Glorfindel," he whispered. "You must not go."  His lips moved over the clammy skin, and his voice was choked with his grief. "Saes, meleth nín. I need you. I cannot live in a world without you. Melon lle." He pressed his lips against Glorfindel's unresponsive ones. "I was so foolish," he whispered. "Saes, come back to me. Let me show you. Do not leave me, meleth nín."  

He kissed the soft lips again, wishing they would respond, his heart breaking with grief each long moment that passed. "Saes, Glorfindel. Listen to me for once, meleth. Melon lle, with all my heart, and I care not who knows it. Come back to me." His voice cracked as he wept openly, his hands cradling Glorfindel's face. "I need you. I want to spend the rest of my years at your side. There is no joy to be had in life without you. Saes, meleth..."

Glorfindel paused, hearing the command of his Lord, and the pleading words of his love.  He looked toward the darkness, listening intently, and saw the doorway transform before his eyes into a portal of light.  He looked back toward the other door; the one he had believed led to Mandos’ Halls and saw it for what it truly was, a rank and black hole, filled with misery and despair.  He turned, rejecting the pull of the shadow and heeded his Lord’s voice, crossing through and returning his spirit to his body.

A loud gasp escaped the warrior’s slumbering form and his chest expanded with the deep breath.  A soft moan slipped from him and his eyelids fluttered.  His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips and he croaked, “Haldir…”

Trembling with joy, Haldir pressed his lips against Glorfindel's gently. "I am here, meleth nín."  Tears still fell from his eyes, wetting the golden warrior's cheeks.

“Mmm, yes you are…” the Vanya whispered.

Elrond gave a sigh of relief and reached across, taking Haldir’s hand.  “He will live to harass you another day, mellonamin.”

Haldir looked up and gave Elrond a grateful smile. "And I am glad of it, my Lord," he answered shakily. "More glad than words can tell."

Elrohir rocked Elladan in his arms and whispered, “Did you hear that, gwannig?  You did it, you kept him from falling into shadow.”

Elladan nodded sleepily, so weary he could hardly keep his eyes open.  

Thranduil opened his eyes, sensing the evil had passed.  He placed his arm around Legolas and squeezed him tight, a gentle smile crossing his lips.

Erestor heaved a sigh of relief and pressed a kiss to Galathil’s head.  “Thank the Valar,” he whispered.

Galadriel smiled and looked up to see her husband and daughter enter the room.  Celeborn crossed to her and took her in his arms, placing a soft kiss upon her cheek.  

Celebrían crossed to her husband and knelt beside him, leaning her head upon his shoulder.  “How does he, meleth nín?”

Elrond smiled.  “He lives, seron vell.  We are not done with him yet.”

Haldir turned his gaze back to Glorfindel, stroking his face gently with his fingertips. "Do you forgive this foolish elf, meleth nín? Can you forgive me?" He did not care that the others were watching. All that mattered was the one he loved.

Glorfindel smiled and nodded.  “Aye, if you can forgive me for my brashness and stubbornness,” he croaked.  

"Aye," Haldir tried to laugh, but it sounded suspiciously like a sob. "I love your stubbornness."

Glorfindel smiled weakly and answered, “And I love you, you foolish elf.”

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Glorfindel's. "For always?" he whispered.

“Until the ending of the world, seron vell,” he answered, weakly lifting a trembling hand to the marchwarden’s face.

Elrond lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Galadriel, who merely smiled serenely at him. He turned his gaze to the lovers and managed a soft chuckle. "Do you plan to make this official any time soon?" he asked dryly.

Glorfindel coughed and grimaced.  “As soon as I may leave this damnable bed,” he grumbled.

Elrond chuckled and nodded.  “Now that is the Glorfindel I know and love. Should I be sending my seneschal to join the Galadhrim?”

"Or my Captain to join the warriors of Imladris?" Galadriel said, her eyes twinkling.

Haldir frowned down at his lover. "Oh no, meleth. You will not be leaving this bed any time soon. Not until I am satisfied you are fully on the mend." His eyes glinted with wicked humor.

“Well then,” Glorfindel croaked, “You will just have to join me in here then.”  He tugged upon the marchwarden’s tunic, lacking the strength to simply pull him into the bed.

Galadriel motioned to the others to leave the room, seeing that Haldir and Glorfindel needed to be with each other.

Thranduil crossed to the twins and took Elladan up in his arms, carrying the exhausted Peredhil to his quarters.  Legolas followed, Elrohir leaning heavily upon him, and Erestor and Galathil followed close behind.  Galadriel and Celeborn escorted Elrond and Celebrían out of the room.  The Lord of Imladris called to Haldir, “I will be close by should you need me.”

Haldir looked up from Glorfindel and nodded gratefully. "Hannon lle, Lord Elrond."

Elrond smiled and nodded as they left the healer’s quarters.

The healer approached and bowed before the marchwarden.  “I must attend to his wound, my Lord and administer herbs to quell the fever.”

Haldir moved aside, and smiled at Glorfindel's grumbling as the healer attended him.

“Can I not be moved to my own quarters?” Glorfindel asked.  “I would find more rest and comfort there.”

The healer smiled and flashed a mischievous glance at Haldir.  “I suppose that can be arranged, my Lord.” After making sure Glorfindel had swallowed every drop of the concoction he had brewed, the healer bowed to them both. "Rest now, and do not over exert yourself." This last was said with a significant look at Haldir. "He should sleep soon.  I will make arrangements to move him once his fever has abated.”

Haldir nodded. "Hannon lle."

The healer eyed him for a moment, noting the dust and marks of travel on his clothing. "I will send a servant with your belongings. There is a tub for washing located behind that curtain there."

Glorfindel smiled and added, “Yes, please, meleth.  Do take a bath before you join me in the bed.”  He smiled wickedly and winked at Haldir.

Haldir grinned, glancing down at himself ruefully. "Aye, a good idea, that."

The healer struggled to fight back a chuckle before he bowed a final time, turning on his heel and leaving the two alone.

Glorfindel cast a wicked smile Haldir’s way, even as he fought to stay awake.

Haldir shook his head, smiling. "Keep such thoughts from your head, Vanya. You heard the healer - you are not to over exert yourself."

Glorfindel smiled, struggling to keep his eyes open.  “I need not exert myself to take pleasure in your company, meleth.  Simply holding you close is enough for me, for now.”

Haldir sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for one of Glorfindel's hands. "For me as well, meleth nín. I want nothing more than to feel your arms around me again."

Glorfindel smiled and brought Haldir’s hand to his lips.  “Then bathe, you filthy marchwarden, and get in here.”

Haldir dropped his gaze to his hands. "I need to say something, but perhaps now is not the ideal time."

“What is it, meleth nín?” Glorfindel asked, his tone more serious.

Haldir took a deep breath and met Glorfindel's gaze. "I cannot be as lighthearted as you all the time, meleth. However, I will try to be less... staid, as you put it. You were right, and I am sorry. I can only thank the Valar that I have been given this chance again with you. I cannot promise I will never be serious...but I will promise to try to seek joy in life as you have found it."

“Oh, Haldir,” Glorfindel said softly.  “I only worry that you deny yourself happiness and joy.  I want you to be happy, meleth, not be who I think you should be.  It is out of love for you that I worry so. I want our days to be filled with joy and love, I want to hear your sweet voice raised in laughter, and see your beautiful smile grace your lips.”

Haldir nodded. "I think," he said slowly, "That with you, I will have no lack of happiness and joy. Though I am certain I will have my moments of aggravation as well." He chuckled softly.

Glorfindel laughed.  “Well I would not be myself if I did not aggravate someone.” He smiled coyly and a yawn escaped him.  “But I will try not to aggravate you any more than need be.”

Haldir released Glorfindel's hand and rose from the bed. His smile widened and he bent down, placing a soft kiss on Glorfindel's forehead. "Sleep, meleth. You may aggravate me later. I will bathe and join you soon."

"Um-hmm..." the Vanya mumbled sleepily.  He could keep his eyes open no longer as he sighed and drifted into reverie.

< > < > < >

Thranduil placed Elladan upon his bed and began removing his boots as Elrohir unbuttoned his twin’s tunic.  

“He is exhausted, my Lord,” Elrohir said softly.

Thranduil nodded and smiled at Elrohir.  “You look rather tired yourself.  Stay here with him, I will make your apologies to your parents.  Will you need anything before I depart?” the King asked softly.

Elrohir shook his head and smiled.  “No, my Lord.  I have all I need right here.”

Thranduil smiled and placed a kiss upon Elrohir’s head.  “Very well, pen-neth, should you require anything, ring the bell.”  He motioned to the braided cord that hung by the door.

He turned and crossed the room to Legolas, caressing his son’s face and placing a gentle kiss upon his lips before leaving his chamber, hand in hand with his son.

Elrohir pulled Elladan up long enough to remove his tunic and turned down the covers.  He guided Elladan to slide beneath the covers before removing his own tunic and boots, and climbing in beside him.  Elladan sighed and curled against him, whispering, “Melon lle, Elrohir.”

Elrohir smiled and hugged his twin tight.  “Melon lle, Elladan.”  He closed his eyes and drifted into reverie, sleeping peacefully with his twin.

< > < > < >

Elrond, Celebrían, Galadriel, and Celeborn awaited Thranduil in the main hall.  Elrond traced the grain in the large table with his forefinger as he mulled over the current state of affairs.  Prior to news of Glorfindel’s injuries, he had fully intended to demand an explanation from Thranduil regarding his proposal, and was not entirely sure he would grant his permission for his eldest son to bond with the Mirkwood King.  Elladan and Elrohir were still young for their kind, and he had not been too enthusiastic about Lady Galadriel’s idea that they bond in the first place.  Now that his eldest was to bond with an elf whose actions flew in the face of everything he had taught his sons to hold dear… well he was even less enthusiastic.  However, he had to admit, the way Thranduil had held his son, the way he kissed his forehead and tenderly carried him from the room made him wonder if he had not been wrong about the Sinda all along.

Thranduil was a hothead, of that there was no doubt.  He was arrogant, stubborn, had a reputation of insatiable hedonistic tastes, and he liked to stir things up.  He was reckless in battle, unyielding in negotiations, and maddening in general.  But, he kept his people safe in a dangerous realm, kept his promises, and when push had come to shove so long ago, had stood against his own father in the interests of what was best for all involved.  He supposed if the Sinda did truly love his eldest son, then he would prove a loyal and faithful partner, and perhaps, Elladan would prove a tempering influence on him.

Now Elrohir’s choice, on the other hand, filled him with delight.  Legolas was eloquent, beautiful, intelligent, fierce, and had a kind grace that was infectious; Elrond could not have picked a better mate for his youngest son.

Elrond had also taken note of the way Thranduil’s eldest looked at his advisor, and the way Erestor returned those glances, not to mention the blatant physical contact the two displayed.  That was a separate conversation he would need to have with his Counselor.  He intended to ask what made Erestor seduce Thranduil’s eldest son away from Elladan, who had been sent to make a match with one of the Mirkwood Princes.

He looked up from the table to see Erestor enter the room, followed by Galathil, and he flashed a chastising glance at his advisor before turning his attention to the opposite door when Thranduil and Legolas entered.

“My apologies for not welcoming you formally as you arrived,” Thranduil began smoothly, “but obviously there was no time for such a luxury.”  He crossed the room and took Galadriel’s hand, bowing and bestowing a chaste kiss upon it.  “My Lady,” he addressed her softly.

Galadriel smiled and nodded as he released her hand.  He did the same with Celebrían, who smiled a bit warmer and answered, “My Lord,” in return.  He then bowed his head to Celeborn and covered his heart.  “My Lord, ‘tis good to see you again, even if it is only under slightly better circumstances.”

Celeborn returned the gesture and answered, “Thranduil.”

The King turned to Lord Elrond and did the same, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand.  “Lord Elrond,” he began quietly, “I owe you a debt of gratitude for rescuing Glorfindel from his fate.  Had he passed, I am afraid Elladan and Elrohir would not have recovered, and that would have been grievous to both myself and Legolas.”

Elrond regarded Thranduil with some suspicion, the Sinda was charming, almost to the point of being dangerous.  “I am only glad I arrived in time, Thranduil,” he answered.  “Tell me, how did my seneschal become so badly wounded?”

Thranduil stood upright, he was slightly taller than Elrond, and standing so close, he needed to look down at him.  “Glorfindel was attacked by a spider while accompanying one of my patrols.”

Elrond narrowed his eyes, “And what, may I ask was he doing with one of your patrols?”

Thranduil’s expression grew stern, “Your seneschal was at loose ends after the abrupt departure of his lover, and knowing him to be a warrior like myself, I saw that he needed something to take his mind off his troubles.  He accompanied Elladan and Legolas, along with seven of my finest archers under Legolas’ command.  They came upon a newly build nesting area on the southern borders of my realm.”

Elrond’s eyes grew wide, “You sent one of my sons on so dangerous a mission?”

Thranduil looked down his nose at the Noldo.  “There is no mission with out danger in my realm, Elrond.  I do not have the benefit of a ring to keep it safe from evil.”

Galadriel rose from her chair to stop the conversation before it degraded into an argument.  “I am sure that Thranduil would not send his own son into a situation he was not prepared to handle, Elrond.  This is a dangerous world we live in, evil can befall any one of us at any time.”  She nodded to Thranduil.  “Thranduil would not purposefully place your son or Glorfindel in danger, no more than he would his own son.”

Galathil gripped Erestor’s hand tight as he watched his father’s temper boil just beneath the surface.  Erestor gave a reassuring squeeze in return and placed his free hand upon Elrond’s shoulder.  He spoke calmly, “We are all a bit shaken, my Lord.  The afternoon’s events have taken a toll on each of us.  Perhaps it would be wise to retire to our guest chambers to bathe and rest before the dinner hour.” 

Celebrían rose from her chair.  “I agree with Lord Erestor.  We are tired and still reeling from the near loss of Glorfindel.  Let us retire and take some rest.  We can talk about his at dinner with clear heads.”

Galadriel smiled gently and nodded.  “’Tis wise advice my daughter and Lord Erestor give.  Let us retire and resume this discussion over dinner.”

Elrond backed down reluctantly.  Thranduil’s arrogance drove him mad, but Erestor and his wife were correct, now was not the time to vent his aggravation upon the Mirkwood King.  “Very well,” he said calmly.  He took a deep breath and continued, “We thank you for your hospitality, Thranduil.”

Thranduil bowed his head and answered flatly, “You are honored guests in my realm.  Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”  He watched his visitors depart the hall as they were led to their chambers.  

He turned to Legolas and sighed.  “Will I ever find away to talk with that Peredhil without losing my temper?”

Legolas smiled gently and caressed his father’s face.  “You did quite well, Ada.  Only one stern looked passed between you.”  He chuckled.  “Pay no heed to his words, Ada.  You did nothing wrong.  There was no way for any of us to know what we would come upon.  Beside, Glorfindel is a warrior, as Elladan will one day be, this will not be the last danger they face.”

Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight.  “Thank the Valar nothing happened to you, Iôn.  I could not bear losing you.”

Legolas hugged his father tight and buried his face in Thranduil’s neck.  “Melon lle, Ada,” he said softly.

“Melon lle, Greenleaf,” Thranduil answered.

“Come,” Legolas stepped back and tugged upon his father’s hand.  “Let us bathe and rest before dinner, something tells me you may need your strength.”  He smiled teasingly.

Thranduil chuckled and shook his head as he followed his son to the private wing of his palace.

Chapter 14

Haldir adjusted Glorfindel’s arm so that he supported most of the warrior’s weight as they made their way to the seneschal’s room. Glorfindel had stubbornly refused to be carried, which had not surprised Haldir. Wisely, he had not argued with his lover, but he had insisted that Glorfindel allow him to help him walk from the healing room and down the hall. 

“I despise being weak like this,” Glorfindel grumbled as Haldir finally released his hold and let him sit on the edge of the bed. “You do not have to act nurse maid to me.”

Haldir smiled. “I know, meleth. I would feel the same if our positions were reversed, and so would you. I shudder to think if I were ever wounded, what coddling I would suffer though at your hands.”

Glorfindel managed a weak laugh. “All right, Haldir. You are right, and I am being an ungrateful wretch. I am lucky to have you to look after me.”

Nodding, Haldir pushed his lover back against the mattress gently. “You are, meleth nín,” he agreed with a playful grin. “Now please, take some rest.”

The Vanyar scowled. “I an wholly tired of sleeping, Haldir. Truthfully, I am hungry. Does Thranduil starve his guests?”

Haldir controlled his smirk, though it was a struggle. “No, I am certain he does not. Would you like me to have something brought up?”

“Please.” Glorfindel sighed, settling against the pillows. 

After giving the request to the servant he had summoned, Haldir took a seat on the edge of the bed and smiled down at his grumpy beloved. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you? Anything that will make this forced bed rest any easier for you and myself to endure?” he teased.

Glorfindel managed a ghost of his usual grin. “Well, if I am forced to remain abed, the least you can do is share it with me, meleth.” His grin turned slightly wicked. “Preferably without clothing.”

Haldir leaned forward, brushing his lips against Glorfindel’s smiling ones. “Aiya, seron vell,” he said softly. “Such a difficult request to agree to.”  He drew back, shaking his head. “But you are not to overtire yourself, meleth, or you will not recover your strength,” he chastised.

The Vanya did not look the least bit repentant. “Saes, Haldir. I missed you.”  He reached up and trailed his fingers over the silver strands of Haldir’s hair. 

“I missed you as well, meleth nín,” Haldir replied quietly. “I do not like seeing you this way. I do not know what I would have done if you had not returned to me.”  He took a shaky breath. “I thank the Valar that you have.”

Glorfindel smiled and reached up for him. “So do I, hûn nín,” he said softly, drawing him close and kissing him. “So do I.”

< > < > < >

Elrond adjusted the fold of his robes for the third time as he slowly paced from one end of the room to the other. 

“Beloved,” Celebrían said softly. “You are fretting over naught. Did you not see them?”  She rose gracefully from her chair and walked to where he was, folding her arms around his waist. She tilted her head and looked up at him. 

“I saw them,” Elrond replied quietly, his brow furrowed. “I admit that they truly appear to be in love.”

Celebrían reached up and brushed her fingertips over the furrow between his brows, soothing it away. “Then why do you worry? Do you not believe Thranduil will make Elladan happy? Or Legolas, Elrohir?”

Elrond frowned. “You did not mention Erestor and Galathil,” he said.

She laughed softly. “I did not mention them because Erestor is a grown elf and not our son. Who he chooses to love is not our concern. Elladan and Elrohir are, but I do not understand why you are worried. I thought this news would make you happy.”

He pressed a brief kiss against her brow. “I am pleased with Elrohir’s choice. Legolas is everything I could have wanted for him. It is Elladan’s choice that worries me. Thranduil is no young prince. He is a King, and much older than Elladan. He is also rather,” he flailed for a moment for something appropriately diplomatic. “Headstrong and tenacious when it comes to his own will. I worry that Elladan and he are too much alike for a true relationship to work between them.”

Celebrían reached up and cradled his face with her hands. “Beloved, that is exactly why I believe their relationship will work. Elladan has forever been impetuous, and dragged Elrohir into whatever mischief he could devise. He needs a stronger mate to guide him, teach him, temper him. That Thranduil is strong in his will means only that Elladan will not be able to bend him to his own will so easily. Thranduil is not one to follow without reason, and Elladan needs someone who will challenge him from time to time.” She pressed her lips against Elrond’s softly. “I think it is a good and wise match, and I think our oldest son will benefit much from having Thranduil to love him and guide him.”  She kissed him again, slower this time, and he could not help but respond to the sweetness of it. “Do not worry, meleth nín,” she whispered against his mouth. “Elladan will not forget the lessons he learned at his father’s knee.”

Elrond pulled her close, resting his cheek against her soft hair. “I am blessed to have a mate who is so very wise.”

She laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist. “I am blessed to have a mate who remembers it.”

< > < > < >

Galadriel separated the silver strands and began to braid them, smiling as Celeborn leaned his head against her. She finished his braid and smoothed it with her fingers. 

“Are you satisfied, dear one?” Celeborn asked quietly, reaching up to wrap her arms around his chest. “Our grandsons seem to have found happiness for themselves, though not, perhaps, the matches you were seeking.”

She leaned against him, pressing her lips against the top of his head. “I am, meleth nín,” she answered softly. “That Elladan and Thranduil have found love surprises me, but does not displease me. The ties between Imladris and Mirkwood will be stronger for it.”

He lifted one hand and pressed his lips against the back of it. “It is not the first time you have mentioned the need for the closeness between them. What have you seen, dear one? Will you speak of it?”

Galadriel drew away from his embrace and walked around the chair he was seated in, sitting gracefully in the chair across from him. 

“Dark times are ahead, meleth nín,” she whispered. “I have seen it in my mirror, though not all has yet been revealed. Only that when the time comes, Legolas will have an important and vital role to play in it all. He will come to Imladris as a representative of his father’s kingdom, and his presence will help shape the course of the future.”

Celeborn frowned, reaching forward to grasp one of her slender hands. “You saw something else, beloved. What is it?”

She shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. “Only that if ties were not strengthened between Imladris and Mirkwood, that Thranduil would not have sent Legolas to Lord Elrond.  Galathil would have come in his stead, and his dislike for the Peredhil would have had disastrous results.”

The Lord of Lothlórien bowed his head a moment, considering his wife’s words. He raised his head and offered her a small smile. “Then it is well that things have happened as they have. Prince Galathil does not seem to hold ill feelings towards Elladan and Elrohir. Perhaps Lord Erestor is the cause?” 

Galadriel laughed softly. “Perhaps.” 

< > < > < >

Galathil knelt in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. He struggled to keep his balance as Erestor slowly thrust into his open mouth. His own arousal throbbed, untouched, against his stomach, its tip glistening with moisture. His jaws ached from swallowing Erestor’s length, and his lips were swollen from the constant friction. Tears of need and frustration leaked from the corners of his closed eyes as he worked the length of flesh between his lips, laboring to bring Erestor to his peak. 

His lover had not made his task easy. Each time Galathil felt the shaft harden between his lips, the telltale pulsing along its length that signaled impending release, Erestor had withdrawn, staving off his climax. Only when Erestor had regained control again did he allow Galathil to resume. 

He had lost track of the number of times Erestor had withdrawn, but each time it was a form of delicious torture to feel the length of hard flesh slide again between his swollen lips. He heard Erestor’s breathing quicken, and felt his length throb against his tongue as he swallowed it deeper, desperate to hear Erestor’s groan and taste the sweet saltiness of his seed.

A soft, keening cry escaped him when Erestor withdrew once more.

“Saes, hîr nín,” Galathil pleaded softly, opening his eyes. “Let me finish, let me give you pleasure.”

Erestor’s fingers brushed lightly over his cheeks, wiping his tears and smiled tenderly. “You are doing so well, ernilen,” he chided softly. “Are you weary? Perhaps you wish to take your rest now?”

Galathil shook his head vehemently. “No, my lord. I – I…saes…” His arousal throbbed insistently, making it difficult for him to think. He licked his lips, focusing hungrily on the length of flesh just inches from his mouth. “Saes, melethron. Let me please you.”

“Since you beg so prettily, my sweet princeling, you shall have your desire,” Erestor said. His hand closed gently on the back of Galathil’s neck, drawing him forward. “Pleasure me, then.”

With a low moan, Galathil’s mouth closed around Erestor’s length, his tongue swirling along the underside as he drew it deeper into his mouth. His jaws ached but he ignored them, concentrating on the task at hand: giving his lover pleasure. He sucked harder, working the entire length between his lips until he was finally rewarded with a deep, breathless moan.

“That is it, my lovely one,” Erestor crooned, his hand tightening its grip on the back of Galathil’s neck. “Take all of me, fill your mouth with me.”  His breathing grew ragged as his eyes closed, another groan escaping him. 

He felt the first, spurting warmth of Erestor’s seed upon his tongue and whimpered in pleasure, swallowing his lover’s essence greedily. It was not until he felt himself being gently pushed away that he released Erestor’s length, letting it slide reluctantly between his swollen lips.

Galathil sat back on his heels, struggling to catch is breath. He was aware of Erestor watching him, and his skin flushed under the dark and knowing gaze. 

“Come to bed, ernilen,” Erestor murmured quietly, turning to extinguish all the lamps of their room save one. He carried it with him and set it carefully on the bedside table.  He turned to watch Galathil as he crawled onto the bed, his arousal still painfully evident.

Galathil lay back on the coverlet, looking hungrily up at Erestor. 

“What do you want, my beauty?” Erestor asked softly. 

“Lle,” Galathil whispered, his body aching with need.  

Erestor smiled, reaching for the jar of salve and opening it.  “Then you shall have me, meleth nín.”  He scooped out a generous portion of salve with his fingertips, and spread the slippery substance carefully over Galathil’s length. His touch only served to enflame the Prince further, and a soft whimper escaped his lips.  Wordlessly he offered the jar to Galathil, who looked at him questioningly for a moment, before dipping two fingers into it. Closing the lid, Erestor set the jar aside, and straddled Galathil’s hips.

Galathil reached for Erestor’s entrance with his slick fingers as his lover leaned forward, capturing a taut nipple between his teeth. A low rumble of pleasure escaped Erestor as Galathil’s fingers breached him, spreading the salve into his body as deeply as he could reach. He found his mark and stroked it lightly, delighting in the quiver that went through Erestor’s lithe frame. His lover laved his attention on the other nipple, biting it gently, and groaned when Galathil’s fingers found their mark again.

“Take me, Galathil,” Erestor whispered against his skin. “I would be yours.”

Using his hands, he guided Erestor’s hips until the tip of his arousal pushed against his lover’s opening. He rolled his hips forward as Erestor pushed back, and he groaned in pleasure as his lover’s tight heat surrounded his length. 

Erestor’s eyes were closed, and his mouth open as he moaned softly. He rocked forward and back, taking Galathil’s length into his body with low sounds of pleasure. Galathil’s hips rose and fell in rhythm to Erestor’s rocking, and his groans echoed Erestor’s as he neared his peak.

“Touch me, melethron,” Erestor gasped. “Saes.”

Galathil reached for Erestor’s reawakened length and stroked it in time with their thrusts, feeling his lover’s body tighten around him as he neared his own release. Erestor cried out, his length pulsing in Galathil’s hand as his release claimed him. Galathil’s hands were slick with his seed as he continued to stroke his length, his thrusts growing erratic as he reached his climax. With a loud groan, his hips bucked upward a final time, spilling his essence deep within his lover’s welcoming body. 

Erestor leaned forward, resting his head against Galathil’s heaving chest, his own breathing finally slowing. His body occasionally twitched from the aftershocks, and he heard Galathil’s soft chuckle.

“Melon lle, Erestor,” Galathil whispered. His arms reached up to hold his lover tenderly. “You make me so happy.”

“The feeling, dear ernilen, is mutual,” Erestor replied, raising his head to press a soft kiss against Galathil’s mouth. “Though it was not supposed to happen.”

Galathil looked searchingly into his lover’s dark eyes. “You are not unhappy that it did, are you?” he asked hesitantly.

Erestor shook his head. “No, seron vell,” he whispered. “I am not.”

A soft sigh escaped Galathil as Erestor finally pulled away, letting his now softening length slide free of his body. He immediately curled up next to his lover’s body, resting his head on Erestor’s chest. Erestor’s arm slid around his shoulders, and he pressed a soft kiss against Galathil’s hair.

“Will there be more lessons, now that we are lovers?” Galathil asked sleepily.

A low chuckle rumbled through Erestor’s chest. “Ah, my sweet princeling,” he replied softly, pressing him close. “What do you wish?”

“Honestly?” Galathil considered the question carefully for several moments. He was silent for so long, Erestor wondered if he had fallen into reverie. “Yes, I think I would. As long as we continue to have moments like this.”

Slender fingers lifted his chin from his chest and Erestor placed a gentle kiss against his mouth.

“Aye, meleth nín,” he replied softly. “We will.”

< > < > < >

Chapter 15

The chairs around Thranduil’s private dining table were full.  Galadriel sat the opposite end from Thranduil, surrounded by her wardens, Celeborn, and Celebrían.  Elrond sat next to his wife with Erestor next to him.  Glorfindel and Haldir were absent, the Vanya was not quite ready for an evening at the King’s table, and Haldir had respectfully requested that he be allowed to stay by his lover’s side. Thranduil’s chair was still empty as they waited for their host to arrive. 

Elves busily moved in and out, bringing trays laden with delicacies and pitchers filled with wine.  Elladan and Elrohir chatted amiably with their old friends, taking delight in introducing them to Legolas and Galathil.  

Rúmil smiled sweetly at the elder Prince and Galathil flushed under his regard.  Orophin looked at Legolas, admiring his ethereal beauty over the rim of his wine goblet.  Elrohir leaned over and gently shook his head.

“No, no, mellonen.  He is mine,” he playfully chastised.

Orophin leaned over, whispering in Elrohir’s ear, “Come now, you do not really expect me to believe that you are so in love with him that you will actually go through with this.  I know where your heart lies, gwador.”

Elrohir merely smiled and answered, “Legolas is a rare beauty with a kind and strong heart, Orophin.  He is an excellent choice for a bonded mate.”

Orophin nudged the Peredhil with his elbow.  “And the King?  Thranduil will not be easily fooled in this, Elrohir.  He has flawless powers of perception.  They say he can see all that is in one’s mind by just looking into their eyes.”

Elrohir snorted and replied, “Then you best avoid his gaze, gwador.  Or there may be penance to pay when you return to the Golden Wood.”

Orophin furrowed his brow and grumbled before taking a large drink of his wine.

Thranduil entered the dining hall and bowed his head, covering his heart with his hand.  His guests made to rise and he asked them to sit.  “Please forgive my late arrival,” he began quietly.  “I had business to attend to that was unavoidable.”

“Is there a problem, Adar?” Legolas asked softly.

Thranduil took his seat and waived his hand.  “Only some minor skirmishes on the western border between rival clans of men.  Nothing to concern us at this time.”

Galadriel looked into Thranduil’s eyes, sensing there was something more, but she could not discern what it was.   She glanced at Celeborn, letting him see into her thoughts, and letting him know that something was amiss.

“Do you often have violence upon your borders, my Lord?” Celebrían asked.

Thranduil looked across the table to her and smiled.  “Not often, Lady.  The wood can be a dangerous place at times; remnants of Sauron’s evil have not been entirely eliminated.  However, it is by and large a safe and beautiful place to abide.”  He took a drink of wine and continued, “Men will always seek to make war, Lady Celebrían, it is in their nature.”

She felt Elrond bristle at the remark and patted his hand under the table as she sighed quietly.  She feared it would be a long night.

Elladan smiled and added, “It is also in men’s nature to make peace and love, as evidenced by my ancestors.”

Thranduil smiled and caressed Elladan’s cheek.  “Yes it is, melethen.  Thank you for reminding me.”

Elladan smiled and winked at the King, who smiled in return.  Legolas and Elrohir tried to contain their mirth at so obvious a flirtation.  Galathil looked at the table; he still had some difficulty imaging his father bonding to Elladan.  His eyes widened as it occurred to him that Elladan would be his stepfather.  As if Erestor could read his thoughts, he felt the Noldo’s hand come to rest upon his thigh and squeeze it gently.  

Elrond nearly groaned aloud as he watched his son gaze amorously at the King and smile oh so sweetly.  He did not raise his eldest to be an eye-batting paramour to a Sindar King!  Celebrían, sensing her husband was about to lose control of his temper yet again, gave his thigh a gentle squeeze as she whispered, “Tread lightly, meleth.”

Galadriel raised one eyebrow at the blatant a flirtation, and heard the soft chuckle come from her husband.  She also heard the quiet snicker that escaped Rúmil and shot him a chastising glance, at which, the young Galadhrim blushed and looked at his lap.

She smiled and addressed the King, “It pleases me that you have made a match with my grandsons, Thranduil.  However, I did not think my oldest grandson would find love in the arms of Mirkwood’s King.”

Thranduil smiled, glancing at Elladan for a moment, before replying, "Nor did I expect to fall in love with one so young. But love is often difficult to explain. Our hearts most often see what our minds do not."

Elladan reached out and took Thranduil's hand, and the King gave him a tender smile that spoke volumes.

Galadriel glanced at her husband and he leaned forward, kissing her cheek. "I am content," he murmured in her ear. "Are you, melethen? Surely they would not speak of bonding if their hearts were not true," he added, squeezing her hand lightly with his own.

Elrond frowned; he was still unconvinced.

"Is this what you truly desire, Iôn?" he asked Elladan quietly.

Elladan smiled gently at his father and nodded.  "Yes, Adar.  Thranduil makes me happy. We love one another.  I belong with him."

Elrohir swallowed, schooling his face into a mask of gentle approval.  Inwardly it pained him to hear those words spoken to their father, though he knew they were not true.  Still, he wished he and Elladan were bonding with one another in front of their families, rather than participating in the ruse Thranduil had planned.

Elrond sat back with a sigh; Celebrían squeezed his leg reassuringly. "Then you have my blessing, Iôn. But know this." He gave Thranduil a hard, searching look. "If you hurt my son, you will answer to me, Thranduil Oropherion."

Thranduil smiled, biting back the words that he longed to say in the face of Elrond's threat. He could not blame the Peredhil for being protective of his sons. He would feel the same about Legolas or Galathil.

"I will love him and treat him honorably, Elrond. You may count on that,” he replied gravely.

Giving Galadriel a brief but loving glance, Celeborn raised his glass and smiled at the newly promised pairs of elves.  "May love join your hearts for all time."

Galathil could not help but glance at Erestor as they echoed Celeborn’s toast. The dark haired counselor favored him with a brief but thoughtful look before taking a sip of his wine.

< > < > < >

The servants had cleared the last of the dishes away. Sweet, spiced wine was served following the rich desert, and Elrond found himself relaxing and enjoying himself, despite his best efforts. He had watched Thranduil and Elladan throughout the entire meal, and had to admit that the two truly did seem to love one another. Elladan’s displays of affection were somewhat overdone, in his opinion, but Elrond suspected it was because his son was trying to show him the depth of his feelings for Thranduil. 

Celebrían leaned against him, her soft lips pressed against his ear and he shivered, smiling at the warm caress of breath that teased him. 

“You see, melethen?” she whispered sweetly. “Your worries were for naught. Our sons are happy.”

He nodded, sliding his hand up her thigh. “I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong,” he replied. 

Celebrían pulled back and gave him a flustered smile. "My lord," she whispered. "You are bold this evening."

Elrond thought she had never looked lovelier than she did right now; her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink and her eyes were bright with laughter. His eyes lowered as he smiled lasciviously at her. "I am not half as bold as I could be, seron vell," he murmured.

Celebrían smiled coyly. “What did you have in mind, my husband?” she replied knowingly.

Elladan rolled his eyes at smirked at the shocked expression on Elrohir's face. It was not every day that they saw their parents behave in such a fashion.

Legolas was aware of Elrohir's embarrassment, and sought to distract him by the most effective means necessary. He leaned across the table, and deliberately brushed his hand across the rise in Elrohir’s leggings as he reached for the bottle of wine. He grinned at the Peredhil’s soft gasp and poured them both another glass of potent drink.

Celeborn glanced at his wife, noting the faint blush on her cheeks with a knowing smile. His hand reached for hers beneath the table and twined their fingers together.

Thranduil perused the table, watching his guests drink their fill of the potent blackberry brandy.  It had its usual effect, and even the Lady Galadriel's face was a bit flushed as her husband whispered in her ear.  He smiled and rose from his chair, taking Elladan by the hand.

“If you all will excuse us, this has been a rather long day, Elladan and I would like to retire."

Elladan smiled as Thranduil pulled him into his arms and nodded to his parents and grandparents as they left the table.

Legolas raised one eyebrow and glanced at Elrohir, leaning over and whispering into his ear.  Elrohir stood abruptly and also made he and Legolas' apologies, quickly tugging the Prince away from the table.

Legolas looked over his shoulder and addressed their guests.  "Galathil will be happy to entertain you.  We will see you in the morning."

Elrond frowned at the sudden and hasty departure of his sons, but his frown quickly disappeared when Celebrían pressed her lips against his ear. He barely stifled his gasp of surprise when he felt her tongue flicker against the tip. He struggled to maintain his composure under Galadriel's knowing gaze.

Yes, well," he said, clearing his throat. "It is late. Perhaps we should retire as well, melethen?"

Celebrían’s soft laugh tickled his ear. "I thought you would never ask," she murmured sweetly, and rose from her chair, tugging at his hand. "Goodnight, Adar, Naneth."

Erestor hid his smile carefully behind his glass of wine and watched as the Lord of Imladris followed his wife eagerly from the room.

Galadriel added her voice to Celeborn's, wishing their daughter good night, though she suspected that their farewells fell on deaf ears. She laughed softly, and turned to smile at the lord of her heart. "Are you weary as well, my husband?" she asked softly, for his ears alone. "Or do you wish to stay and keep Erestor and Prince Galathil from each other's arms for a while longer?"

"Weary?" he repeated, his eyes bright with laughter. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her delicately pointed ear. "I will show you how weary I am, seron vell, the moment we are alone,” he purred softly.

Orophin and Rúmil watched their Lord and Lady's flirtatious play, silently wishing everyone would leave so they could make their way to their adjoining room.  Rúmil slid his leg along his brother's innocently looking off into space.

Orophin bit back the growl of impatience that rose in his throat and narrowed his eyes at his playful lover.

"We wish you all a good evening," Celeborn said, rising beside Galadriel. He held out his arm, smiling down at her as she took it.  The others bid them good night and watched as the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien left.

Galathil glanced at Erestor, wondering if his lover wished to remain longer or if they could also, at last, retire for the night. Erestor returned his glance with a knowing smile that made him shiver in anticipation.

Rúmil rose from his chair, stretching catlike, smirking at his brother's quickly averted gaze. He bowed politely to Erestor and the Prince. "Good night, my lords," he said. "Come, muindor." He turned to Orophin and grinned. "You must be tired as well."

Orophin rose and bowed, waiting until they were out of sight of Erestor and Galathil before pouncing on his brother and pinning him to the wall.

"You are very wicked, muindor," he whispered, his lips inches from Rúmil’s. "To tease me thus in front of the others."

Rúmil’s tongue flickered out and touched Orophin's lower lip teasingly. "Not half as wicked as I would have liked," he whispered in reply.

Erestor smiled lazily at Galathil, his fingers trailing across the Prince's thigh. "Well, now," he purred softly. "It is just you and I."  His fingers drifted higher, deftly undoing the clasps that held Galathil’s robe. 

Galathil swallowed, glancing nervously around the empty dining room. “My Lord,” he said, his breath quickening as Erestor’s fingers brushed against his newly bared skin. “Surely we should retire to somewhere more private.”

The dark haired elf lifted an elegant eyebrow. “I suppose,” he agreed reluctantly. “It would not do for the servants to wander in while I am sheathed in your lovely body.”  His hand trailed slowly across Galathil’s chest, pinching one dusky colored nipple until it hardened beneath his fingers.

The Prince moaned softly, undone by his lover’s touch and the image his soft words induced. “Please, my lord,” he whispered. 

Erestor chuckled and rose from his seat. “Come with me, ernilen.”

< > < > < >

Rúmil laughed, ducking around the corner as he raced down the corridor. Orophin was on his heels, and he could hear his brother’s soft, taunting growls.

“When I catch you, muindor, you are going to pay.”

“Then you had best catch me,” Rúmil tossed back over his shoulder, taking the steps that led to the next level three at a time. His brother was fast, but Rúmil had always been the fleeter, nimbler of the two. Of course, he had no idea where he was headed, but it did not matter. He leapt across the final step and dashed down the hallway, his footfalls silent and swift.

“I am right behind you,” Orophin growled. “You can run, but I will catch you.”

“Save your breath, muindor,” Rúmil laughed. “You will need it!”  The hallway turned sharply, splitting into two different directions. With Orophin nearly right behind him, he chose the left hall, putting on an extra burst of speed to reach the next corner. He skidded around it, nearly falling when the rug beneath him slid sideways, but he made it. Grinning, he followed the hallway through a large archway carved deep into the rock and stumbled to a halt.

Dead end.

He was in a room most likely used for storage, if the dust that coated its contents was any indication. Furniture was stacked neatly against the stone walls, covered with cloths to protect it from the dust. Bookcases lined with old texts and scrolls were scattered amidst the furniture, and there was even a wardrobe that held old robes and other clothes. 

Rúmil glanced quickly around him, searching for somewhere to hide, when his brother’s hands closed around his waist and picked him up.

“Ai! Orophin!”

“I told you I would catch you, muindor tithen,” Orophin told him smugly. “You ran yourself right into a corner.”

Rúmil wiggled, struggling to free himself from his brother’s tight grasp, his body tightening with expectation. Orophin held him easily, lifting him higher until he dangled ungracefully over his brother’s shoulder, his long hair sweeping the ground. 

“Now, what should I do with you?” Orophin mused.

“Put me down,” Rúmil suggested, earning himself a painful swat on his upturned backside. “Ai!” 

“I will put you down when I am ready to, pen-velui,” Orophin replied. “And then I intend to enjoy every inch of you until you are begging me to take you.”

“Oh!” Rúmil stopped squirming, his arousal hardening at the thought. 

“Though I should teach you a lesson about running from me,” Orophin added, his hand reaching up to squeeze Rúmil’s bottom. “I should not have to chase my lover though the halls of Mirkwood.”

“It was only a game,” Rúmil protested. “Surely you are not angry. I thought it was great fun.”

“Aye,” Orophin agreed, squeezing Rúmil’s bottom again. “Though if I had not been forced to chase you, I would have you writhing beneath me right now, on a nice, soft bed. Now, I am forced to search for a flat surface in Thranduil’s storage room upon which to ravage you properly.”

Orophin’s bottom was within easy reach of Rúmil’s teeth, and he could not resist the urge to bite.

“Ouch!” Orophin stopped abruptly and yanked the cover off of a large chair. He sat down, pulling Rúmil across his lap. “You are going to pay for that, melethron,” he growled. 

Rúmil wiggled on Orophin’s lap, feeling his brother’s arousal press against his backside. “Oh, I am worried,” he smirked. “What will you do to me, muindor?”

Orophin’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he scanned the room. His gaze paused on something behind Rúmil and he smiled slowly. “I know just the thing.”

Rúmil was faster, but Orophin was stronger, not that Rúmil was all that interested in escaping at this point. Orophin lifted him easily and set him on the edge of a cloth-covered desk. His fingers made quick work of the ties that held Rúmil’s tunic closed, and he stripped it from his brother’s body and tossed it behind him without looking to see where it fell. Rúmil shivered at the intent look on Orophin’s face as he set to work on his leggings, pulling the string loose in one, quick motion. He gasped when his brother grabbed the waist of his leggings and pulled them over his hips in one, fluid motion. 

“Lay back,” Orophin told him softly, pushing with his hands against Rúmil’s chest until he lay flat on the desk, with his hips resting just on the edge. “Bainwain,” Orophin murmured, his hands gliding over Rúmil’s chest and down his stomach. 

Rúmil groaned softly when his brother’s hand closed about his length, stroking the heated flesh in slow, even movements. He closed his eyes, his head rolling back against the hard surface of the desk as Orophin’s worked him expertly. He heard the distinctive sound of the laces popping on Orophin’s leggings and opened his eyes.  He whimpered at the sight that greeted him. 

Orophin’s eyes were closed as he worked both their lengths, stroking one in each hand. His breath rose and fell, quickening with each stroke, and Rúmil moaned plaintively at the sight.  Orophin opened his eyes at the sound of his brother’s voice and smiled. Gathering the slippery moisture from the tip of his own arousal, he pressed his fingers against his brother’s opening, slipping them inside.

“I am going to take you now, melethron,” Orophin whispered, scissoring his fingers slowly inside his brother’s tight heat. “I cannot wait.”

“But…” Rúmil’s eyes widened as he felt Orophin’s fingers leave him, replaced by the hard press of his brother’s length. He could not help but wince as his brother entered his hastily prepared body. 

A long, shuddering groan escaped Orophin as he felt Rúmil’s tightness close around him. His hands gripped his brother’s hips, steadying himself as he waited for Rúmil’s body to adjust and accept him. “Melon le, Rúmil.”

Rúmil bit his lip, whimpering in frustration as his brother began to move. He reached for his aching arousal, only to have his hands batted away with a low, warning growl from Orophin.

“Not until I say, pen-vaelui,” Orophin growled quietly. “Your pleasure is mine alone to give.”  He smiled wickedly, thrusting deeper and earning a soft, pleading moan from Rúmil. “That will teach you to run from me.”  His hands gripped his brother’s thighs, spreading them wider as he drove his length into Rúmil’s tight heat. He could feel his pleasure building, growing, driving him towards his release with each long thrust. Rúmil’s low, plaintive moans filled his ears as he shuddered, burying his length deeply. He cried out his pleasure as his release claimed him, and he filled his lover’s body with his seed. 

Panting slightly, Orophin grinned down at Rúmil’s flushed face, his length still buried deep inside.  “Now,” he murmured.

Rúmil reached for his length and stroked it, feeling Orophin’s arousal twitch deep inside of him. It did not take him long before he shuddered, groaning softly, the warmth of his release covering his stomach and hand. 

Orophin withdrew his softening length from Rúmil’s body and leaned forward, his tongue darting out like a cat’s to lap at his brother’s stomach. He thoroughly and lovingly cleaned every last bit of his lover’s essence from his skin, humming contentedly as he did so.  When he finished, he raised his head and smiled down at Rúmil.

“So, muindor tithen,” he said, smirking. “Did you learn your lesson?”

Rúmil frowned but could not hold it. “Yes,” he replied finally, chuckling softly. “I guess I did.”

Orophin pulled his brother up from the desk and held him, wrapping his arms lovingly around Rúmil’s shoulders. “You are not angry with me, I hope?”

“No,” Rúmil replied, kissing the tender skin at the juncture of Orophin’s neck and shoulder. “It was an interesting game.”

“Melon le, Rúmil,” Orophin whispered, hugging him tightly. 

Rúmil smiled. “I love you too,” he replied. “Now, can we go to our room? This place is rather drafty without clothing.”

Orophin chuckled softly. “Of course.”

< > < > < >

“Wait for me there…” those were the last words the King had spoken before sending Elladan to the baths.  The Peredhil sat and waited for his betrothed, beads of water running down his back and chest.  He wondered if Elrohir and Legolas would be joining them that night, it would be too risky for him to have Elrohir alone, not with his grandparents and parents around.

He idly swung his feet in the warm water, listening to the soft splashing noises echo in the candlelit room.  He closed his eyes, his head hanging back, the ends of his hair trailing through the water that puddled upon the floor.  

“How delicious you are, pen-vaelui,” Thranduil’s deep voice purred in his ear.  “I could look at you all day and into the night.”

Elladan’s arousal twitched the moment Thranduil’s voice drifted into his ear.  The Sinda’s soft, heated breath caressed its curve, the deep, dulcet tones causing his heart to race and his body to awaken to the possibilities.  “What would you have of me, hîren?”

“What would I have?” Thranduil turned over the thought in his mind as his hands roamed Elladan’s shoulders, arms, and chest.  “I would have you make such sweet sounds of passion as to enrapture all that would here it.”

Elladan smiled and leaned back against Thranduil’s chest.  His hands glided over the King’s powerful thighs and he replied, “To think I was resistant to this.”

Thranduil smiled and caressed the curve of Elladan’s ear with his lips.  He whispered softly, “I am glad you have changed your mind, pen-vain.  It gives me great pleasure to see you undone by my touch.”

“You do undo me, nauren, were it not for Elrohir’s love, you would possess me utterly,” Elladan replied quietly.

Thranduil stroked Elladan’s stomach and smiled as he heard the quiet gasp issue from his lover.  “I would not take what is not mine, by rights, pen-neth.  I know where your heart lies, and there it shall stay, forever safe from those who would separate you.”

“As your heart will remain safe in Legolas’ keeping,” Elladan replied breathlessly.

“Aye, that it shall.”

It was Legolas’ voice Elladan heard as he looked up to see the Prince and his twin come into the baths.  Legolas led Elrohir by the hand; both dressed in thin, loose robes.  Their hair was unbound, falling around their shoulders.  Elladan remarked at how striking they looked together, dark and light, as the moon against the midnight sky.  Elrohir smiled at him, his ripe lips curving sensuously and causing him to shudder with desire.

“Such a strange and giddy thing, love is,” Thranduil purred into Elladan’s ear, his skillful hands creeping lower to tease the dark hair that grew about the base of his arousal.  “It makes fools of us all, I fear.  It drives us to incredible lengths to keep it, makes us suffer the yoke of despair when we lose it.  But without it, we are lost, no good to ourselves or one another.”

Elladan closed his eyes, digging his fingers into Thranduil’s thighs.  He heard the soft splashing of his twin and Legolas entering the water, then gasped quietly as he felt strong archer’s hands sliding over his thighs.  He opened his eyes to see Legolas kneeling in between his legs upon a bench carved in the smooth stone of the spring.  The Prince gazed up at him with midnight eyes, his tongue darting out and wetting his soft lips.  Elrohir stood behind him, his twin’s hands roaming over the long curve of the Prince’s back.  Never in his life had he seen a more alluring sight, Legolas was pure sensuality, deceivingly dangerous in his gentleness.  Thranduil was a predator all right, but his son was nearly as deadly.

He groaned as Thranduil gripped the base of his pulsating arousal in his hand and took the point of his ear into his mouth.  The King had come to rest in a sitting position behind him, and he felt his arousal press into his back.  He reached behind him, wrapping his arms around the King’s neck.  He moaned loudly as Legolas engulfed his length with his mouth, Thranduil’s hand expertly working what Legolas did not consume.  The Prince started to moan as he worked his length between his lips and Elladan opened his eyes to see his brother’s arm wrapped around Legolas’ waist.  Elrohir’s cheek rested between Legolas’ shoulder blades, his free hand caressing the Prince’s arms and shoulders, his ripe lips dropping kisses to his flawless alabaster flesh.  He saw Elrohir flexing his hips, rocking slowly back and forth, and he imagined his twin’s arousal sliding between Legolas’ buttocks with agonizing slowness.  He whimpered as Thranduil consumed his neck and shoulders, the King’s free hand teasing his nipples into hardened peaks.  He felt his release building, burning him from the inside until he would cry out and lose all that he was in a moment of pure bliss.  Thranduil’s legs were wrapped over his own, holding them open, leaving him helpless to Legolas’ assault.  He could not thrust forward, he could not withdraw, he was pinned between them and utterly at their mercy.  He felt his body tighten of its own accord, and he whimpered.  Thranduil’s hand forcefully gripped his arousal, preventing his release as he cried out into the steam filled room.

Legolas let Elladan’s length slip from his lips and he smiled up at the trembling Peredhil.  His own length throbbed mercilessly, Elrohir’s skilled touch keeping him just on the edge of completion.    He groaned as Elrohir’s hand drifted lower, cupping the velvety pouch that lay between his legs and giving it a little squeeze.  He spread his legs wider, rolling back into Elrohir and feeling his arousal slide into the cleft of his buttocks.  “Aniron chen, Elrohir,” he whispered hoarsely and he hissed through his clenched jaw as Elrohir bit him on the shoulder.  “Ai, yes,” he whispered as he felt Elrohir’s fingers slide inside him, gently preparing the way for his rigid length.

Elrohir alternately licked and bit the Prince’s neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of love marks that would be gone by morning.  He withdrew his fingers and teased Legolas’ entrance with the tip of his arousal, wanting nothing more than to thrust into Legolas’ willing body.  “I want to bury myself in you, pen-vaelui,” he whispered.

“Mmm… yes,” Legolas answered as he pressed back against Elrohir.  

Elrohir looked up to see Elladan impale himself upon Thranduil’s rigid length, just as he entered Legolas.  He reached around and pulled Legolas back against his chest, burying his face in the Prince’s hair as he thrust inside him.  Legolas reached down and grasped his hips; his long fingers dug into the muscle and flesh as he rode the Prince’s body.  Legolas undulated against him as he reached around him, taking his length in hand and stroking in time with his thrusts.  Legolas’ soft sighs and deep moans were fueling Elrohir as he increased his pace.  He watched Elladan from over Legolas’ shoulder, his twin straddled the King’s lap, his arms wrapped around Thranduil’s neck as he rolled his hips forward and back.  Thranduil’s fingers were buried in Elladan’s hair and the King hungrily consumed his twin’s mouth.  His thoughts drifted to his twin’s mind, softly caressing his consciousness, **Melin le, Elladan.**

Elladan responded, **Melin le, Elrohir.**

Elladan was the first to find his climax, his cry echoing through the steam filled room as Thranduil buried himself to the root.  Legolas was next, his body tightening around Elrohir’s rigid length as he growled his own release.  Elrohir and Thranduil came close together, each groaning as they spilled their essence inside their lovers’ bodies.  Elrohir leaned his head against Legolas’ shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around the Prince’s chest.  Legolas sighed softly, his hands caressing Elrohir’s forearms as he leaned his head against his lover’s.

They heard the soft splashing of one entering the pool and both turned to see Thranduil carrying Elladan.  The Peredhil had his legs wrapped around the King’s waist and his arms around Thranduil’s neck.  Elladan smiled as he placed soft kisses on Thranduil’s face and the Sinda responded by whispering sweet words into Elladan’s ear.  They joined Elrohir and Legolas, and Thranduil released Elladan.  The four lovers sat next to one another on the stone bench, Elrohir on one end, his arms around Legolas, Elladan next to the Prince with Thranduil on his other side.  Elladan knew that Thranduil wanted to hold Legolas in his arms, as badly as he wanted to hold Elrohir, but as long as their parents and grandparents were in the wood, they had to be careful and keep up appearances.  They talked quietly in the baths for sometime before leaving the warm water and retiring to separate bedrooms.  Elladan with Thranduil, and Elrohir with Legolas.

As Elrohir lay upon his back in the bed, caressing Legolas’ back with one hand and the curve of the Prince’s ear with the other, he thought about his twin.  His beloved was curled against the strong form of Thranduil in the other room.  He knew Legolas wanted to be in Elladan’s place as badly as he wanted Elladan with him.  But, he mused, if he could not hold his twin right now, Legolas was not a bad substitution; he was growing quite fond of the Sinda Prince.

< > < > < >

Galathil would never look at his father’s library quite the same way again.  In particular, the desk where many of the scribes did their research work and where his father often sat late into the evening, reading old texts. 

It was both unnerving and exciting, the way Erestor ruthlessly stripped him of his robes and turned him around, bending him over the desk. His lover’s hands moved possessively over his back, his hips, and his buttocks, stroking and pinching the tender flesh. Erestor’s hot mouth trailed kisses across his flanks, sending shivers of delight through Galathil’s body. His lover’s fingers delved between his buttocks, pulling them apart and opening his body to his gaze. Galathil felt helpless, wanton, and deliciously naughty, bent across his father’s desk while his lover’s tongue teased his opening until he was whimpering with need. 

Erestor used his knee to press Galathil’s thighs further apart, until he was balancing on the balls of his feet, most of his weight supported by the desk. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk tighter when Erestor’s tongue penetrated him, and his soft, keening moans filled the library. 

His plaintive cry of disappointment when Erestor’s tongue left him made his lover chuckle. Erestor’s soft robes brushed against his backside as his lover leaned across his back, brushing his fingers alongside Galathil’s cheek. He turned his head, accepting the fingers his lover offered greedily, wetting them thoroughly with his mouth. 

Erestor’s long fingers pressed into him, stretching his passage with a sure touch that left Galathil breathless. When Erestor’s fingers left him, he shuddered at the empty feeling they left behind. He balanced on his toes, spreading his legs as wide as he was capable, pressing his arousal against the hard wood beneath him. He heard his lover’s soft murmur of approval and trembled, eager to be taken.

Galathil heard Erestor’s robes fall open and moaned softly, making his lover chuckle once more.

“So eager, pen-vaelui,” Erestor crooned, rubbing his weeping length between the cleft of Galathil’s buttocks. “How lovely you look, ernilen, open and ready for me.”  He pressed the tip of his arousal against Galathil’s opening, and entered his body with agonizing slowness.

Galathil trembled. His breath came in short, harsh gasps as his body was stretched, filled by his lover’s rigid length. 

Erestor did not stop until he was sheathed fully in Galathil’s body, his thighs cupping his young lover’s buttocks. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against Galathil’s neck.  His hands gripped the Prince’s hips to steady him as he drew back, a low groan spilling from his lips. He thrust forward, burying himself in Galathil’s body once more, eliciting a keening moan from his lover.

Galathil held tightly to the edge of the desk, his hips rising and falling with the steady rhythm of thrusts. His arousal ached, throbbing against the unyielding surface of the wood as Erestor’s pace quickened. His lover paused, pressing his legs further apart, before resuming his long, swift strokes. Galathil cried out as Erestor found his mark, running his length over it repeatedly as his thrusts became more heated, his thighs smacking against Galathil’s buttocks almost painfully. His body tightened, and he pushed against the desk, desperate to attain his release and frustrated by the lack of friction against his length.  He felt Erestor shudder and heard his lover’s deep growl of pleasure as the warmth of his seed flooded his body. 

A soft whimper escaped him when Erestor finally pulled his softening length from his body. Tears of frustration and need spilled, unheeded down his cheeks, and Erestor kissed them tenderly away.

“Come, melethen,” he said, releasing Galathil. “Dress yourself.”

Galathil nodded, stepping away to gather his robes. “Yes, my lord,” he whispered.

He was grateful that his robes were loose, though the material brushed against his arousal as he walked behind Erestor. His body ached with unfulfilled need, but he did not question his lover’s purpose for leaving him this way. Instead he simply concentrated on following Erestor’s lithe form through the halls of his home. It was not until he smelled the unique scent of oranges and jasmine that he realized his lover had taken him to the private bath that adjoined his chambers. 

Careful fingers stripped his robes from him and guided him to the heated and scented pool, pushing him gently beneath the water. He sat down on one of the stone benches and closed his eyes, smiling in pleasure as the heated water caressed his limbs.  He heard the splash of water as Erestor joined him in the pool and opened his eyes.

“Wet your hair, ernilen, and I will wash it for you,” Erestor commanded quietly. 

Galathil nodded and rose from the bench, immersing himself fully in the water. He rose, wiping his eyes, and resumed his place on the bench. 

The spicy scent of sandalwood and oranges filled the air as Erestor poured a generous amount of liquefied soap into his hand and worked it gently into Galathil’s blonde hair. Long, slender fingers massaged his scalp, lathering the soap until it foamed, and Galathil sighed in pure bliss. A tap on his shoulder indicated he should rinse his hair, and he rose from the bench once more. 

When he rose from the water, Erestor pushed his wet hair back from his face and guided him to lean against the side of the pool. He felt the cool, slippery touch of soap against his skin as Erestor’s hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, kneading the muscles with a sure touch that left Galathil weak. He was turned, and the process was repeated with his neck and chest, the touches lingering on his nipples until they hardened into aching peaks beneath Erestor’s fingers. 

Erestor’s lips brushed against his, and he leaned into the kiss, moaning softly. He closed his eyes, his tongue delving into the warmth of Erestor’s mouth as his lover’s hands drifted over his chest and stomach. 

His arousal had softened somewhat under Erestor’s gentle ministrations and the soothing warmth of the water. It hardened anew at this tender onslaught of his senses, and Galathil groaned quietly, the sound muffled by the press of Erestor’s mouth as his lover’s hand encircled his length. Slow, teasing strokes stole his breath and made him tremble against Erestor’s body. 

Erestor drew back, releasing his claim on Galathil’s mouth. “On the ledge, ernilen,” he whispered.

Galathil moved back, rising out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool. Erestor moved to stand between his thighs, his head bending to take Galathil’s length in his mouth. His lover’s hand pushed gently on his chest, indicating that he should lie against the floor, and he leaned back until his shoulders rested against the cool tile. Erestor’s hands reached up to grip his thighs, pulling him closer and Galathil groaned as his lover drew him deep into the heat of his mouth. Soft, swirling suction caressed his length in slow and steady strokes, and he felt the touch of Erestor’s fingers against his opening. They were slippery from the soap and slid into his body with ease, thrusting slowly in a counterpoint with his lover’s mouth upon his length. 

Erestor’s fingers curled, seeking their mark and finding it deep within his lover’s body. He swallowed Galathil’s throbbing length even as his fingers brushed his mark again, and he heard the Prince’s keening cry of pleasure. Warmth flooded his mouth and he swallowed Galathil’s pleasure eagerly, milking every last drop of his lover’s seed from his length until he felt the prince shudder helplessly beneath him.

Strong yet gentle hands drew him back into the water and held him as he recovered, his breath gradually slowing to something akin to normal. Galathil opened his eyes finally and gave his lover a satisfied smile. 

“Melin le, Galathil,” Erestor whispered, bending his head to claim Galathil’s mouth in a swift and breath-stealing kiss. 

It was not until afterwards, as Galathil lay nearly asleep next to his lover’s warm body, that the Prince realized that Erestor had told him he loved him. 

< > < > < >

Chapter 16

Something warm and wet flickered against his ear, and Haldir sighed, his eyes gradually coming into focus as the last vestiges of sleep lifted from him. 

“Maer aur, melethen,” Glorfindel’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Was your sleep restful?”

Haldir smiled, rolling to his side to face his lover. “Maer aur,” he replied. “Aye, I slept well.”

Glorfindel’s smile broadened and his eyes gleamed wickedly. “Good,” he purred, rolling over and covering Haldir’s body with his own. “So did I.”

“Glorfindel,” Haldir gasped, groaning softly when his lover’s arousal slid against his hip, brushing against his own awakening length. “You should not…”

“I should,” Glorfindel countered, leaning down and capturing Haldir’s lower lip between his teeth briefly. “I can think of nothing better to aid my recovery than to make love to you.”

Haldir shook his head, smiling up at his lover. “You are incorrigible, melethen, and I love you. Just promise me that you will go easy.”

Glorfindel growled softly, nipping at the tender skin just below the curve of Haldir’s jaw. “I have lain in this bed for five days, Haldir. Five days of lying next to you and not doing anything but holding you. If I must go another hour without possessing your lovely body, I will go mad.”

A soft chuckle escaped the marchwarden. “We cannot have that,” he murmured, gasping as Glorfindel ground his hips against him, sliding their lengths together. Concern for his lover’s health, however, made him try one last time. “Are you certain you are well enough?”

“Aye,” Glorfindel replied, smiling down at him. “I think I can manage well enough.”

Haldir’s concern faded and he grinned up at his lover. “Then be quiet and make love to me, maethoren vain.” His arms wound around Glorfindel’s neck and drew him in for a kiss. “I missed your touch.”

Glorfindel’s chuckles turned to moans as Haldir claimed his mouth, sliding his tongue between his lips and teeth. His hands slid across the warrior’s back to cup his buttocks, kneading them gently as he tasted and explored the sweet warmth of Glorfindel’s mouth.

“I have missed this,” Glorfindel murmured, when Haldir finally released his mouth. He drew back slightly, shifting his weight so he could fully explore the delights of the body beneath his. 

His hands ran over Haldir's strong chest, his fingers spread wide to encompass as much of his lover's flesh as possible.  He nuzzled the marchwarden's ear, whispering huskily, "So, my lovely marchwarden, how do you want it?  Here?" his right hand slid underneath Haldir's backside to tease the cleft, "or here?"  The fingers of his left hand traced his lover's swollen lips.

Haldir moaned. "Inside me, melethen. I want to feel you inside me."

"Yes, but there are so many ways for you to feel that, melethron," Glorfindel purred wickedly.  "So I ask again, here" another perusal of his lips, "or here?" he circled his lover's entrance with his finger.

Haldir gasped, arching against the gentle touch. "There.." he murmured. "Please..."

“Mmm... I was hoping you would say that, pen-rhovan," he murmured, his lips caressing the curve of Haldir's ear.  He reached across his lover's chest, fumbling through the drawer of the bedside table until his fingers found what he sought.  He pressed a hungry and bruising kiss to his lover's waiting lips, plundering the depths of Haldir's mouth with his tongue.  

Haldir opened his mouth greedily, his hands sweeping up to bury themselves in Glorfindel's hair as he surrendered to his lover's kiss.

Glorfindel released his lover's mouth and sat up, straddling Haldir's waist as he uncorked the phial, pouring a small amount of oil into his hand.  He held out the phial and whispered, "Hold out your hand, melethen."

Smiling, Haldir held his hand out, palm up.

He poured a generous amount of oil into his lover's palm, replacing the cork with his teeth and setting the phial on the floor beside the bed.  He looked down at his love; Haldir's hair was spread out on the pillow, pure silver against a field of deep green.  The archer's strong chest expanded and contracted as he breathed deeply and Glorfindel smiled.  "Melon le, Haldir," he said softly.

"Melon le, Glorfindel," Haldir replied, gazing up at him.

The corners of the Elda's lips curved into a sensual smile and he whispered, "Touch me, melethen."

Haldir smiled wickedly in return. "Gladly," he whispered. His oil-covered hand slid smoothly over Glorfindel's arousal, slickening the length of it with slow, sensual strokes.

The Elda's head fell back and he moaned deeply, he rolled his hips forward into Haldir's grasp.  "Yes, pen-vain," he whispered hoarsely.  His head slowly rolled from side to side as he rocked into his lover's hand.  He reached behind him, arching his back as he balanced on his heels, his fingers seeking out the entrance to his lover's body.

“No one does to me what you do, Haldir," he whispered.  "No one makes me weak for them the way you do."

Haldir reached up and cupped Glorfindel's cheek with his hand. "You make me complete, melethen," he whispered. "There is no joy in living without your touch."  He shuddered as Glorfindel's fingers brushed against his mark, crying out his need shamelessly.

Glorfindel looked down at his lover and clenched his jaw, feeling his own climax starting to build.  "Release me, melethron," he whispered huskily.

Giving his lover's flesh one last, lingering stroke, Haldir reluctantly released his grip on Glorfindel's length.

Glorfindel slid his thighs under Haldir's legs, raising his hips and nudging his lover's entrance with the weeping tip of his arousal.  "So beautiful," he whispered huskily, "wanton and hungry for me.”  He sheathed himself inside Haldir's tight body in one smooth thrust, groaning as he buried himself to the root.  "Gods," he whispered.  His pulsating length was buried in heated velvet luxury, and he paused to savor the sensation.

Haldir groaned as Glorfindel entered him, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered his body to his lover. "Aye, yes," he groaned softly. "You make me so, melethen."

He gripped the marchwarden's hips in his hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh and hard muscle.  Glorfindel began thrusting inside his lover's body, shallowly at first.  He angled for his mark and struck it as he buried himself fully.  Slowly he increased his pace and depth, withdrawing completely before thrusting back in again.  "Touch yourself, Haldir," he groaned.

Haldir moaned, reaching forward to grasp his length, stroking it in time with Glorfindel's driving thrusts. His soft moans became louder as his body tightened, each thrust driving him closer to the edge of his release.

Glorfindel felt his lover's body tighten and saw his eyelids flutter, he groaned as Haldir found his release, thrusting forward one final time as he spilled himself deep inside his lover's body.

Haldir wrapped his arms tenderly around Glorfindel as his lover laid his head against his chest, his breath gradually slowing to something akin to normal

"Melon le," he whispered tenderly. "For always."

Glorfindel nodded, and whispered, "Always, melethen."  He snuggled against Haldir's chest, listening to the beat of his heart.  He realized he was far wearier than he expected, and he sighed, closing his eyes as his lover's heart lulled him to sleep.

< > < > < >

Celebrían held a swatch of fabric up to Elladan and glanced at Galadriel. 

“What do you think, Naneth?”

The Lady of Lothlórien frowned slightly, looking critically at the cloth. 

“No, I do not think the green for Elladan. Perhaps the blue,” she said finally, holding up a piece of blue velvet on the opposite side of Elladan’s shoulder. 

Elladan rolled his eyes at his twin, who sat, arms folded, waiting unhappily for his turn to be at the mercies of his mother and grandmother. 

“Yes, I think you are right,” Celebrían agreed finally. “Blue does suit him best. Green for Elrohir.”

Galadriel nodded and set about draping different fabrics against Elladan, smiling as she worked. Elladan, to his credit, bore it all stoically, knowing he would have a good laugh at his twin’s expense when it was Elrohir’s turn.

“Are you ladies enjoying yourselves?” an amused voice rumbled from the doorway. Elladan looked up and smiled as Thranduil leaned against the doorframe, watching with an expression of open amusement.

“Oh, good,” Galadriel said, turning to look at the King. “I am glad you are here. We have decided that Elladan will wear blue, but for you, I think…” she tapped her lips thoughtfully with the tip of her finger as she looked at him. “Something more in the line of sable, with green.”

Thranduil shook his head, holding up his hands. “No, ladies. I hate to disappoint you but no one is going to pick out my clothes for me. I have robes perfectly suitable already and I do not require your assistance.”  He saw Celebrían pick up a swath of cloth and he made a hasty exit.

“Where is Legolas?” Elladan asked his twin.

“Probably hiding,” Elrohir answered glumly. “He is smarter than us, gwannig. He knew better than to get anywhere near two she-elves when there is a bonding ceremony planned and he’s involved.”  He did not hide his envy.

“He has all the luck, gwannig,” Elladan said, sighing as his mother adjusted the fold of the cloth against his chest. 

< > < > < >

The sensation of being watched woke Glorfindel from his sleep. 

“Sleep well, melethen?” Haldir asked softly, leaning his arms against his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Aye, I did,” he replied, stretching lazily. “How long have you been sitting there, watching me?”

“Not long,” Haldir replied, smiling. “I was simply telling myself how lucky I am to have you, and thinking about things.”

Glorfindel raised a golden eyebrow. “Things? Such as?”

Haldir leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lover’s mouth.  “That your duty to Lord Elrond is important, perhaps more important than mine is to My Lord and Lady. That I think, if I was to request it, they would release me from their service and into Lord Elrond’s. My brother Orophin would make a good Captain.”

Glorfindel shook his head, looking up at Haldir in surprise. “But Lothlórien is your home, melethen. Will you not miss it terribly?”

“Yes,” Haldir replied honestly. “But I would miss you more. I had to choose. I choose you.”

Frowning, Glorfindel sat up, with a little assistance from Haldir. “There has to be a better solution than that, meleth,” he said. His brow furrowed slightly as he thought. “A compromise we could make.”  He looked up at Haldir and grasped his lover’s arm lightly. “I would not take you from your beloved home.”

Haldir was touched by his lover’s concern. “It is not like a can never return once I leave there, Glorfindel,” he said easily. “My brothers live there and I expect I will come and visit them whenever my duties in Imladris will permit.” He grinned mischievously. “After all, I have a rather close relationship with its seneschal.”

Glorfindel nodded and smiled rakishly in return. “Aye, that you do, my lovely archer, that you do. But will you be happy?”

“Aye,” Haldir nodded slowly. “I expect that I will be, so long as I have your love.”

Reaching up, he enfolded Haldir into his embrace, and kissed him gently. “You have that,” he whispered softly, looking deep into his lover’s gray eyes. “Until the end of time.”

< > < > < >

Thranduil fled to the only place he could think of that the two she-elves would not dare to follow – his private study. He pushed the door open and entered, closing it firmly behind him. 

A soft chuckle made him turn around in surprise. He shook his head, chuckling as well.

Elrond, Legolas, Erestor and Galathil had already beaten him here.

“Wine, Adar?” Galathil held up an empty cup questioningly.

“Please,” he muttered, crossing the room in three swift strides and seating himself behind his desk with an aggravated sigh. 

“It will all be over soon,” Elrond said sympathetically, patting his back in an uncharacteristic gesture of friendship. “It is wise of you to let them have their way in these matters.”

Thranduil snorted into his cup. “Wise, indeed. I feared for my very life should I deny them their right to decorate and plan this ceremony as they see fit. They have turned my very hall upside down with their schemes. My steward has already been to see me twice this morning to request my help – as if I stood any more chance against them than he!”

Erestor nodded, smiling. “It is a wise warrior who knows when to step from the field of battle when faced with a more experienced adversary.”

The King shook his head, glowering at the contents of his cup. “I have stood toe to toe with wargs and orcs, waded knee deep through the carcasses of the foe, and never have I ran.  But those two..."

Elrond chuckled. “Oh, to think I have seen the day…”

Thranduil looked up at Elrond and smirked. “You are bonded with one of them, Peredhil. I would not laugh just yet."

Legolas chuckled quietly at the momentary expression of panic that crossed Elrond’s face. 

“I wanted a quiet, family only ceremony with as little fanfare as possible,” Thranduil continued to mutter. “Did they listen to me? No. I am King, yet no one grants me the respect I deserve.  I am helpless and beaten by two females.”

Legolas smiled and patted his father on the shoulder sympathetically.

Galathil shook his head and shuddered dramatically.  “They frighten the wits out of me.  I will never seek to marry a female.”

Erestor raised an eyebrow in mock surprise as he gazed at his young lover over the rim of his wine goblet.  A naughty grin graced his lips before he took a sip of his wine.

The five elves fell quiet; each lost in their own thoughts, until Elrond finally broke the silence.  “How long do you think we have before they begin to look for us?” he asked.

“Not long, I would wager,” Erestor said with a grin. A knock at the door followed on the heels of his remark.

They glanced at each other, but there was nowhere for them to hide. 

Steeling himself for the inevitable, Thranduil nodded to Galathil to open the door.

“Our doom is at hand,” Elrond murmured, earning himself a weak chuckle from the King. 

“Aye, then we shall face it like the warriors we are, as we did in the days of old,” Thranduil returned, straightening in his chair.

Galathil rolled his eyes at his brother, who returned the gesture with a grin. With a soft laugh, Galathil opened the door, and allowed the doom of his brother and father inside.

< > < > < >

Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered and fell around the four elves as they stood together beneath the trees. The words they spoke were as ancient as time as they pledged their lives and love to one another. All who bore witness to their bonding could not help but be moved by the beauty of the two couples, by their plainly spoken love for each other. 

Only the couples themselves knew the truth behind their words. 

Erestor felt Galathil’s hand enfold his and he glanced at his lover with a smile. 

“Do you think, perhaps, one day…?” Galathil asked hesitantly.

“I do not know, pen-neth,” Erestor answered softly. “I love you, and that is enough for now.”

Galathil nodded and bowed his head for a moment. “It is enough for me as well,” he replied quietly. 

Erestor reached out and lifted his chin with his fingers. “Though I hold the hope that our relationship will be as lasting as theirs,” he said honestly. 

The Prince gave him a slow, breathtaking smile and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Glorfindel leaned against Haldir’s strength as he watched the ceremony come to an end. He felt Haldir press a kiss against his ear and smiled. It was not long ago that his lover would not have indulged in such a public display of affection. 

“I am thinking springtime would be nice,” Haldir said quietly, his voice tickling Glorfindel’s ear.

Glorfindel turned and looked at Haldir quizzically. “Springtime?” he repeated. “Nice for what?”

Haldir smiled at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “For our own bonding, melethen.”

The golden warrior gaped for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed joyously. “Aye,” he said, wrapping his arm tighter around Haldir’s narrow waist. “Springtime would be perfect for such things.”

~Finis

Maer aur = Good morning
Melethen = my love
Maethoren Vain = my beautiful warrior
Melethron = my lover
Pen-rhovan = wild one
Pen-vain = beautiful one
Gwannig = twin
Pen-neth = young one