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..."You recall that he made a jest about changing our nappies?" Elladan asked, watching Legolas closely. When the prince nodded, he continued, "Glorfindel did much for us. He was our tutor in many things. Archery, sword-play...bed-play." Touching the left side of his own chest, Elladan smiled slightly at the dawning amazement in his lover�s eyes. "This ring is for him. Glorfindel was our first."
"Together?" Legolas practically squeaked. "You had your majority rites together? With Glorfindel?"...
--Princes Three: The Beginning, Chapter 10
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~Elrond~
He looks at me in horror, as though I have asked him to slay my sons, rather than bed them. Sapphire-blue eyes wide, mouth open in wordless disbelief, hands raised in a symbolic gesture of protection...
It would be amusing, were the request any less serious.
Finally my fearless captain finds his usually over-merry tongue. "Do not ask this of me, Elrond," he says hoarsely. "I cannot."
"But of whom shall I ask it then, Glorfindel? Erestor?"
I thought not. That question has brought a smile of sorts to his face, however. The very thought of his calm, reserved lover being in this position...ludicrous! Erestor would die of mortification were I to broach the subject, however gently. He would help plan the feast, prepare the rooms, even aid the twins in dressing...but he would cheerfully fall upon his own sword before agreeing to be the one.
I only hope Glorfindel does not share his sentiment.
For I need him. I need his warmth, and experience, and his caring. I need the very part of him that makes the idea so abhorrent. I need his love for my sons.
I will not have them suffer as Elros and I did...unguided, confused and ashamed...though the shame was not of Maglor's making. He knew, understood in some small way, for he was witness to the bond between his own brothers. But he was haunted, cursed by an oath that damned him whether broken or fulfilled, and his own misery granted him little time to ponder ours.
I cannot blame Maglor.
Nor can I allow my pain to become theirs. I will not see them sundered beyond the ending of time, their bond sacrificed on the altar of predestined duty, or denied for the sake of propriety and procreation. I would have their spirit whole and their days joyous.
And I would have them with me always.
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~Glorfindel~
I am speechless, and the fact amuses him, lending a touch of lightness to an otherwise tense moment. What Elrond asks of me...it is too much. The twins are nearly as my own. I have changed their diapers and dried their tears, taught them to fight, hunt, and jest...
How can he ask me to take them to my bed?
"But of whom shall I ask it then, Glorfindel?" he retorts calmly. "Erestor?"
The thought is humorous, even in the midst of such solemn discussion, and a slight smile spreads across both our faces. My mate is rather ill-suited for such a task. Erestor loves the twins, and they respect him as their elder and their tutor, but I have taught them too well, I fear. Elrohir has already mastered the art of mortifying his father's chief counselor, and Elladan...Elladan...
Absolutely not.
Thranduil, perhaps? But this suggestion, too, comes to naught. The king cannot leave his queen, who is near bursting with their first-begotten, and it is unthinkable that the twins should go to Mirkwood, to be so far from home for such a momentous occasion.
He repeats the question, and still I have no answer, save one. Not of me. Do not ask this of me. I love them almost as my own, and I would die in their stead, but I cannot do this. What he asks...'tis unimaginable. It is...
It is almost incestuous.
I have hurt him with my thoughtless protest. The grey eyes flash with pain, and I suddenly realize the magnitude of my mistake.
"Then I could as well do it myself?" Elrond asks quietly, his face drawn. "Is that what you imply? That there is little difference in bedding my brother and bedding my sons?"
Nay, of course not! Forgive me, my friend. Of course not. But do not ask this of me.
He is asking. Pleading. Not as my lord, but as my friend. My sworn brother. 'For the sake of friendship,' he begs.
I cannot. I can not.
But I will.
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~Elladan~
At first, I felt surely I had misunderstood. Glorfindel? Glorfindel?
The mind reels. That Ada should ask...that Glorfindel should agree...amazing...
We have discussed this day for nigh on a century, of course, 'Roh and I. How is it for those who have no twin to share their thoughts and fears, I wonder? How do they bear the tension?
Ada has talked of the rites, many times...we are not unaware of the ways of the flesh, though our experience is less than scant. I know, in theory, what will take place after the feasting is done.
Feasting of a different sort, hmm, 'Dan?
Go away, 'Roh. I am trying to order my own thoughts. I do not need the complication of yours.
But what about sharing our thoughts and fears, hmm, t�ren? You said...
Elrohir!
Going...I am going...grumpy...
My brother. Impulsive, hotheaded, exasperating...and beautiful. So very beautiful. I sometimes think all of Elvendom must wear blinders. How can any mistake my countenance for his? He glows with a passion for life, a goodness that leaves me humbled.
From our birth, Ada has told us of our shared soul, encouraged us to depend on one another, and chastened those who would separate us. Recently he has spoken frankly of our soul's fusing. The joining of our bodies. The sealing of our bond.
The thought fills me with both yearning and fear. I have never slept alone. Always, 'Roh has been there, curled tight against me. But we have never touched in that way, never kissed as other than brothers, though we oft pleasured ourselves together, the sights and sounds of the other sweetening our release.
Still, our fumbling adolescent fancies, such as they were, have been spent elsewhere. Not that there has been any lack of temptation in our bed. To hold him, his skin hot against mine, his scent surrounding me...Elbereth knows how I have been tempted! How we have been tempted. But Ada bade wait, counseling us not to dabble, lest the need of our spirit to be whole overcome us.
And so we have resisted, waiting for the time when we could join without censure.
Waiting for today.
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~Elrohir~
We are to be together, then for our rites. With Glorfindel. Glorfindel?
He has been our mentor, our tutor, our friend...but our bed-teacher? Our lover?
'Dan is right. The mind reels. The body, however, is not displeased.
I have awaited this day impatiently for a century or more, yet now that it is here, I am torn between longing and dread. I would have it done and over. We are expected to lie with the one chosen this night. 'Tis tradition. Ritual. And all of Imladris will know, and wonder - quietly, with the utmost propriety, of course - what sort of showing we made.
But our fusing is for us alone. We are obligated to no day, obliged to tell no one.
Ada has spoken to us of the glow, the merging of thoughts and movement...the doubling of pleasure. The idea of joining with my twin is both mesmerizing and terrifying.
He is breathtaking, my brother. Thoughtful, diplomatic, utterly exasperating...and so very beautiful. I fail to see him in myself, though others often mistake us. He shines with a gentle authority, a fierce nobility that leaves me awed to be thought his equal.
I could lose myself in him. In his eyes, his voice. His arms.
The pull of our bond has been strong, these last years. We have lain in our bed, curled together as always, aching to touch, to taste, to devour. And we have resisted faithfully, soothing the tension with gentle teasing, or releasing it in frenzied bouts of shared self-pleasuring, ever waiting for the day when we would be free to slake our hunger.
Waiting for today.
*~*~*~*~*
t�ren - my brother