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Summary: Haldir is sent to help a badly wounded Thranduil
Author's Note: This came out quite other than I had intended. I wanted the two thickheads to come together but they proved to be quite a lot more stubborn than I had ever imagined
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Thranduil stumbled through the heavy undergrowth almost unable to keep himself on his feet. He had set out with only fifteen warriors, leading them on patrol to destroy the new breeding grounds of spiders near the borders of Mirkwood. A task easily to fulfill by such a small group, or so they all had thought. None of them, at least the king, had expected to be ambushed by orcs. Not here, not in this part of the green wood this close to the borders of Lorien where the vile creatures never had been seen before. But there had been an ambush and never had Thranduil seen the evil beasts act this deviously and coordinated. The elves had not had a trace of a chance, not being outnumbered like this by a pack of fetid fiends, acting like they would be under a superior command. Almost rendered inert by a vicious knock to his head and bleeding seriously from an evil gash on his right arm the king of Mirkwood had to watch helplessly as his brave warriors lost their lives on the battlefield. It proofed to be Thranduil´s fortune to be wounded this badly this early in the fight, the creatures surely left him for dead when they retreated after having done their cruel work, howling out their triumph in an deafening cacophony.
After long agonizing minutes or even hours the king was finally able to move away from the soiled ground, heading stumbling towards an unknown shelter. He was certain to find a save place to let his wounds heal, even if he didn’t know exactly where this would be. Still he was within his own realm, and his Land would lead him towards safety, thereof he was sure. Then the Land would help him heal, lending him her strong and gentle power. Every single king of Mirkwood was bonded to his kingdom according to an ancient, almost forgotten ritual where the king gave his strength to the Land and the Land in exchange supplied him with her power and magic. The result of this binding ceremony was the floating stone of Mirkwood, a heavy stone held only by the united might of king and realm, drifting right above the throne in the great hall as long as the king held his power. Only if the king died or an usurpator enthroned himself the stone would fall down. Thus Thranduil was sure; his people would know him to be still alive and surely would send out searching parties to look for him.
Nearly unconscious Thranduil staggered on, not knowing which direction he was heading, led only by pure instinct. Somewhere there would be shelter would be a place to lie down and rest. Throbbing pain spread from his bleeding arm through his whole body, increasing with every single step – orc poison! – the filthy blade that had ripped open his flesh had been tainted with this vile venom. This really was bad news. A clean cut would heal within days, given the aid he had, but this? Suddenly Thranduil wasn`t sure at all, if this wound could be handled by him alone. Hopefully his people would find him in time.
Unexpectedly the elvenking realized that he had reached a small clearing. And wasn`t there a little shed right in front of him? On uneasy legs he moved further and stumbled through the narrow door. There even was something which looked like a kind of a bedstead. Thankful for his guidance Thranduil fell down on the shabby rags and at once his mind wandered off into oblivion.
Haldir was in a very bad mood as he rode at a quick pace into the dark forest of Mirkwood. After one month at patrol he had been looking forward to a well deserved time off duty, looking forward to sleep in his own bed for a couple of weeks and to having time to spend with is brothers and old friends. But this wasn`t meant to be. As soon as he had reached home he had been called to Lady Galadriel for an urgent rapport. The marchwarden could not remember having seen the Lady of the Golden Wood as solemn as when she had told him to head immediately towards Mirkwood. She had not been able, or willing, to explain more as that it was a matter if absolute emergency, a task that only he was able to be entrusted with and that he had to ride instantly and alone. As an answer to his questions she had only shook her head as if in denial and told him that the Realm of Mirkwood herself had called out to her and that all their future might depend on his success.
As he drove his horse on the marchwarden let his mind linger distressed at what would lie in front of him. There was no use for him to watch the way, his steed would be able to find to their destiny led by the guidance of the Land, so Galadriel had told him. Oh, what Haldir would give to know just a little of what the Elvenqueen had seen in her miraculous mirror!
Frowning deeply he looked down at the big supply of healing herbs and elixirs which had been handed out to him before his departure. Something really bad seemed to have happened in Mirkwood, but why had the Lady sent him, a warrior, and not one of her great healers? Surely he was quite skilled in treating all kinds of battle wounds, as much was expected of a marchwarden and he always took great care in his medical education. But given the amount and kind of herbs he had been provided with he fared that he would have to deal with something bigger than what lay within his powers. Something serious enough to make the Land herself cry out for help. And that was exactly what really worried him profoundly. But the marchwarden unquestionably trusted his Lady’s wisdom, never ever had she failed in her prophecies and demands. Maybe sometime everything would unfold and things would get clear for him. Maybe sometimes he would be allowed to understand why he had been entrusted with this mysterious task and why it had been him and no other who had to fulfill it.
Abruptly Haldir was startled out of his thoughts. The horse had come to a sudden halt and stood in the middle of a small glade, unwilling to make a step further. Every attempt to make it move on proved to be in vain. It only shuffled its hooves and snorted with little whinnying sounds. The warrior looked around and found himself in the middle of nowhere. A clearing, about six meters in perimeter surrounded by thick wood, a little decrepit hut more like a stable standing somewhere near the trees, everything seemingly deserted without any trace of a living being. Surely this could not be where he was meant to head. There was nothing for him to do, nothing he would need his supplies for. Had Galadriel erred for the first time and sent him on an unnecessary errand? But then why had his steed carried him here without any lead, as if it knew where to go? There had to be a meaning to this, Haldir just could not believe that he had set out in vain. Slowly he dismounted and began to stroll around the glade. And then his sharp warrior senses caught it, the faint smell of fresh elven blood, mixed with the foul stench of orc poison. Someone had sought shelter in the decaying hut, someone who was badly wounded, someone who needed his help immediately. That was what he had come for and that was what he would do right now.
Quickly but carefully Haldir entered the cottage braving himself for the worst. But still his breath caught in his breast when he recognized the still form lying on threadbare blankets. Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood, spread out unconscious with a deep nasty gash on his right arm. No wonder that the Land had called out for help when her king was almost deadly wounded.
For a couple of minutes the marchwarden stared in horror at the still form in front of him. Ever since he had laid eyes on the handsome king for the first time he had been secretly in love with him, always hiding his feelings in a perfect manner, never giving away only the faintest hint. A terribly aching knot formed within his belly, almost making him sick. But there was no use in being rendered immobilized in pity and dread, he had been sent here for a purpose and this purpose was to save the sovereign of Mirkwood.
For a short moment Haldir feared that he had come too late. The skin of the wounded elf showed an unhealthy pallor beneath all the blood and grime and his breath came in shallow uneven gasps. Hastily the elf put away these frightful thoughts and began to set on his task. He quickly built up a fire and set a kettle of water on it. Then he started to examine the unconscious body. There was a nasty looking cut on the head, but it was already healing cleanly and wouldn’t be any problem. Far worse was the mean gash in the right arm, where the poison made the flesh look swollen and infected. Also this wound had started to close and this was exactly what made the marchwarden feel really uneasy. The venom needed a way to be extracted from the body and a closed wound would make this almost impossible. Surely the power of the Land helped the king to heal this quickly but in this case this was almost the worst thing to happen. Well then, Haldir knew what to do about this even if he didn’t like the thought at all. He had had to deal with things like this, well not quite like this, but similar enough, and he would deal with it now. He didn’t need to like what he had to do; he just needed to do it.
As soon as the water started to boil the warrior added a selected mixture of herbs and started to free the king from his soiled cloths. He wanted to extort the poison not only through the reopened gash but also through every pore of the body. He poured some of the herbal drought into a big bowl and carefully washed the unconscious monarch. Then he started with the unpleasant treatment of the festering wound, bandaging it with fresh wet herbs after he had finally finished. Finally he dipped a sheet of linen into the warm brew and wrapped it around Thranduil, covering him with blankets to keep him warm. Now the only thing left to do was to make the king swallow as much of the drought as possible. Gently gathering the inert elf in his arm and holding him settled against his chest he fed him spoon after spoon of the warm liquid until he had made him drink a whole cup. Now Haldir had done everything within his might and only time would show if it had been enough. Finally the warrior let emotions, suppressed during the immediate urgency of his task, wash over him. Sending a silent prayer to the Valar he clung to Thranduil unwilling to let him go out of his embrace. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he willed all of his healing energy into the limp body. Only as the fire started to fade he got up to collect more wood and fresh water. When he came back he noticed that the king was shivering under his blankets although his body was hot with fever, his sweat reeking of the foul orc poison. This was a good sign; obviously the medicine was working well. Tenderly Haldir removed the now useless linen, washed the king with the still warm reminder of the liquid in the bowl and fed him another cup of drought. As Thranduil didn’t cease to shudder the marchwarden slipped under the blankets to keep him warm with his own body heat.
On the next morning Thranduil was looking far better than the day before. His breathing was strong and steady again and his skin had regained an almost healthy color. But still his sweat was tainted with the rancid stink of the dreadful venom and he still was in the state of unconsciousness. Again Haldir set to his task of cooling the king’s feverish skin and feeding him cup after cup of the healing tea. Now that the regent of Mirkwood seemed to be out of immediate danger he worked with new strength and courage, from time to time stopping to admire the beautiful inert form and secretly let his hand roam over the lovely pale features and the silky hair, still mangled with blood and dirt due to the cut on the head which the marchwarden had not dared to wash properly in order to not disturb the healing process. Only for a short time he ceased his ministrations to gather new firewood and cook a strengthening broth for them both and patiently he made Thranduil swallow a few spoonful of the nurturing soup. As night fell he crawled again under the covers and held the insentient body in his warming embrace.
Only now Haldir let his thoughts drift towards the next days. What would happen if the proud king who was known for letting no one get too close to him neither physically nor psychically, would wake up to find himself held by the arms of another? Everyone knew that for Thranduil the need for help was a sign of weakness. Would this make his temper rise to one of his well known and feared outbursts? It could easily be that Haldir would be punished for his well meant intrusion of Thranduil´s privacy. But Mirkwood herself had called out for him to help! Maybe the marchwarden would be able to point this out before being penalized; maybe he could avoid the worst punishment for disregarding the stubborn pride of the monarch. But he would deal with this when he had to, for the moment he was content to hold his secret infatuation tenderly in his arms.
Thranduil felt like he had come home after a long and exhausting journey. There was a dull pulsating pain spreading from his arm through his whole body and a foul taste lingering in his mouth. But beside that he felt warm and cozy like he had not felt since a time he almost couldn’t remember. It was like being an elfling again cuddled in his father’s arms after he had had a terrible nightmare. But his father was long gone and Thranduil was no longer an elfling. He was grown up and a king by now. But then – what had happened? Faintly he remembered stumbling through the dark wood, excruciating pain tantalizing his body, his mind threatening to go blank under the effect of orc poison. And now he found himself wrapped in consoling warmth his wounds almost healed. Too tired to think it over Thranduil snuggled instinctively closer towards the source of the calming comfort and with a content sight drifted off into a healing sleep.
Haldir awoke from a peaceful slumber. He smiled softly to himself as he noticed that the king had curled up in his embrace during his sleep. So at least his body knew what he needed even if the stubborn mind denied it. Thranduil seemed to be in quite a good state today, his fever had broken and his color looked almost healthy. The marchwarden let his gaze linger on the relaxed elf nestled to his own body. A fluttering feeling stirred in his belly, a sensation he had not noticed as long as the monarch had been in danger. All his blood seemed to gather in his groin and he felt a sudden tightness of his leggings. But this he could not allow to happen. Surely it wouldn’t be a good idea to have the proud Thranduil wake up in the embrace of a stranger with a raging hard-on. Reproachfully Haldir entangled himself and got up to prepare fresh tea and warm the leftovers of yesterday’s soup. He was just adding fresh herbs to the boiling water when he heard a gruff voice.
“Who are you and how dare you to intrude my shelter unbidden?”
Turning around the marchwarden noticed that the king was awake and had managed to sit up, leaning against his makeshift pillows.
“Haldir of Lorien at your service, my king!” respectfully bowing to the monarch Haldir started to give every explanation he had thought over. “I came to-“
“Haldir of Lorien”, he was interrupted brusquely,” I know about you, marchwarden of the Golden Wood. But what are you doing in Mirkwood, uninvited and unwanted.”
“I was sent to your rescue my king.” As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth Haldir knew he had made a big mistake. How could he speak about rescue to an elvenking who was so very certain that he could manage everything by himself?
“My rescue!” Surely the uproar would have been ear-splitting if Thranduil had been in good health. “I don’t need rescue; I don’t remember to call for help from Lorien. I have my own sources of help. My own Land sees to my wellbeing. So I ask you one last time, why did you invade my country, warrior?”
Haldir felt hot anger rise within him. If it came up to pride and stubbornness he was almost a mach for the mighty king. Sparkling blue eyes met the fierce gaze of green ones although the marchwarden forced himself to reply as calmly as he could manage.
“Please, my king let me speak for once without interruption!” At this Thranduil´s eyes shot daggers at the Lorien warrior but he did not falter for a single moment. “Please hear me out for once. I know, you didn’t send for help, I know about your own sources of power. But Mirkwood herself has called out for your aid; fearing great harm would befall her king. Your Realm herself led me to your shelter in time to help you healing.”
“Mirkwood sent for you?” The king’s voice was a sarcastic snarl. “And why would my Realm call for a foreign warrior instead of one of my own very capable healers?”
“I have to confess, that I can not answer this. My Lady Galadriel got the call and she sent for me to fulfill the task, telling me that only I would be able to be successful. I don’t know why it had to be me, and to be honest,” a new bolt of anger surged through Haldir’s mind, „I was very much looking forward to some weeks off duty, some weeks of rest and bantering with my friends. But my Lady bade me to go and I trust her enough to never doubt her decisions.”
Thranduil looked stunned. Never ever had anyone dared to stand up to him like this. And could it be that Mirkwood really had called out for this fierce warrior? But for what reason? He had cured him well enough, but that was nothing any healer couldn’t have done and maybe better. The king didn’t doubt that there would be a deeper sense behind Galadriel’s request, knowing her wisdom well enough. Galadriel’s request – and Mirkwood’s? Why had it to be the proud and stubborn marchwarden, an elf with quite a reputation of taking everything what was to be taken but never letting anyone near? An almost forgotten sensation flared through his body straight down towards his loins as he looked at the handsome warrior with the fierce sparkling eyes. Suddenly Thranduil noticed that he was naked under his blanket. With new flaring anger he tried to get up but found himself still too weak, a situation which made him furious beyond measure.
“How could you dare to undress me? How could you dare to take advantage of me if I had been in a state like you told me? After all I heard about you I still thought you to be an honorable elf!” All reasonable thinking gone the king could do nothing more than to shout out his fury.
For a moment Haldir stood frozen in shock than red waves of rage began to blurry his vision. No one, be it a king or not, was allowed to insult him like this. He really had tried to stay calm, but now he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Take advantage!! How dare you insult me like that? Be you king or not no one has the right to insult me like this! You dared to offend my honor! Would you be healthy I’d request satisfaction! I know, you have the might to punish me for shouting at you, but I don’t care! You just don’t have the right to call me dishonorable as mighty a king as you are! I – I tended to your wounds, fed you droughts, washed your body reeking of rancid orc poison. I wrapped you in linen drenched with herbal brew to drag the venom out of your system. You could have died without my help! I even cried for you and prayed to the Valar for your rescue.” Here his voice started to break, “I- I even kept you warm during the nights with my own body-heat, gave you every healing energy I had to give. But I did not, never ever take advantage of you, this I swear by my life. And now you can put your sentence on me.”
Worn out from his outburst Haldir sank to the floor, not daring to look up into the king’s face. Surely he had overstretched his limits, surely he would be punished, but it was well worth it. Defending ones honor always was worth it.
Stunned by the outbreak of anger Thranduil stared at the exhausted warrior. Deep down in his heart he noticed a blossoming feeling of admiration for the attractive elf who braved his royal wrath, something no one ever had had the courage to do before. Just admiration – or was there not something more – something like longing? The unsettling stir within his loins made itself known once again; certainly he would embarrass himself if he couldn’t stop this. The king felt a slight pang of remorse as he thought of his former words. Surely he had overreacted, he never should have said things like that, never should have questioned the marchwarden’s honor. He actually was grateful for the help, realizing that he really had been in danger. And what was this about keeping him warm? Had this wonderful comforting sensation he had so much cherished when he woke up during the night been the embrace of Haldir, supporting him with his body-warmth? Unquestionably it was time to say some words of thank for the healing, but he would never confess his disturbing other feelings.
“Well then, let’s put this matter aside. Maybe my mind in fact is a little dull from my illness.” This was more of an excuse than anyone had ever heard from the proud monarch. “I am truly grateful for your help with medicines and the tending of my wound. Looks like I really had some use for it. I even won’t hold the other things you did against you, because they were done purely out of good will. But I assure you, there hadn’t been any necessity for this. I’m sure I would have been strong enough to handle this by myself.”
Half relieved that he had not to deal with another tantrum but still upset by the easy way the king discharged his insults Haldir took a deep breath to steady his voice for a calm answer.
“I never doubted your strength, my king. But with due respect, you don’t know how far yonder you had gone when I found you. I imagined you could need all support I was able to give to you. I just feared you would –“
“I would what?” A menacing cold undertone rang through Thranduil´s words and his eyes flared in new kindled anger, “What exactly do you suggest with this? I wouldn’t have done anything but heal in time. It should have been enough for you to help me with your herbs. My Realm herself would have cared for everything else. So stop justifying your unnecessary tasks.”
“Unnecessary tasks?” Both elves glared hot daggers at one another. “Would you have preferred me to turn away as soon as I had tended to your wounds? Remember my king, your Realm herself called out for help! Would you rather have abandoned her? And what about your people – and your son? Isn’t he too young to be left with a responsibility like this? Would you have abandoned him like – “
“Not one more word!” This time the uproar was deafening. How could he, how could this bold warrior dare to remind him of his dreadful loss? The loss that had shattered his whole life, that had made him to lock himself up within his heart to shut out everyone whom he feared to come too close to his heart, even his former wife and his son. The loss that had forced him to become the proud and mighty king of Mirkwood, the king his father would have been proud of. Suddenly a strangled noise broke through Thranduil´s rambling anger. Shocked he noticed that tears were streaming out of Haldir’s eyes.
“Abandoned him like my own parents did abandon me.” Whispering these words in a barely audible trembling voice Haldir turned his back to the king, his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. The emotional exhaustion of the last days and the gruesome quarrel finally was taking its toll. Deep embarrassment mingled with his grief. How could he break down like this in front of Thranduil, Thranduil of all beings, the only elf whom he secretly had loved for so long? Surely the proud king was repelled by such a display of tearful weakness.
All anger gone Thranduil stared at the shuddering back in front of him. He didn’t think that anyone ever had seen the proud warrior dissolved in tears and to his utter astonishment he didn’t feel disgusted. There was no weakness in this elf grieving a terrible loss, a loss he himself knew so well to be unbearable. Something stirred deep within his soul, something like the melting of an ice cube he had never noticed to be there and his own eyes suddenly filled with hot liquid. A part of him wanted to reach out to pat the trembling shoulders, offer comfort and compassion but the bigger part just didn’t know what to do.
Finally able to pull himself together Haldir didn’t dare to turn around and face the king. He was truly afraid of the appalled look he was sure he would get. The only thing he could do now was to apologize for his behavior and take whatever was to come.
“Please forgive me, my king, this was never meant to happen. I’m truly sorry to have disgusted you with my weakness. I can’t do anything than beg your forgiveness,”
“There is nothing to forgive marchwarden. There is no weakness in grieving the loss of someone dear to one. I assure you I know this feeling better than you imagine.”
Was there a crack in Thranduil´s voice? Haldir spun around and saw the treacherous moisture in the king’s eyes. Suddenly everything fell into place. The call of Mirkwood and Galadriel’s request that only he should answer it suddenly made sense. Could it be that the Land not only wanted the king’s body to heal but also his soul? And that as a side-effect Haldir himself would be healed? For a short moment the silence between the two elves seemed to grow tense but finally Thranduil cleared his throat.
“Weren’t you up to do something when I woke up? I think I smell soup and my stomach feels so empty that I could devour a whole cow.”
Thankful for changing the subject to something normal Haldir smiled at the king.
“I have some broth ready and you should drink some more of the tea I prepared for you. You seem to be healthy enough today but I wouldn’t want you to take any risk. Afterwards I’ll see to your wound.” Here the marchwarden stopped his talk. He didn’t want to mention his intention to rub Thranduil´s body down and to wash his hair. Maybe it was too soon to speak about that, he would deal with it later. He approached the king with a bowl of steaming broth.
“I should help you with the soup, you need two hands to hold the bowl and eat.”
“Just hold the bowl and give me the spoon. I’m no elfling which needs to be fed.” Again there was a slight growl in Thranduil´s voice and Haldir was glad that he had ceased to speak earlier.
With a shaking hand the king tried to bring the spoon to his mouth, spilling half of its contents on the way. But the little sip he got was enough for him to pull a face.
“What the hell did you put in there, or are you just a lousy cook? Besides, I think I’m not used to eat with my left hand, so if you would be so kind-, I mean, would you-.”
“With pleasure, my king, but it would be a lot easier if you would lean onto my shoulder.” Taking the spoon out of the trembling hand he let the king settle himself against his chest. “The strange taste comes from herbs I put into the broth. I thought they would be good for you.”
Thranduil instinctively relaxed into the warrior’s embrace At once the comforting feeling he had cherished so much the other night came back. He let himself be fed the whole bowl of soup and even drained a cup of the bitter drought. It felt so good to be held like this, so good to feel the warmth of another body. He thought he could drift into sleep in Haldir’s soothing embrace. He suddenly was very aware of the startling sensation in his groin and to his utter amazement realized that he longed for a more intimate contact.
A tender smile graced Haldir’s face as he felt Thranduil cuddle more closely to his chest. He liked the way the other elf felt in his arms and for the moment had no intention to let him go. He even found a way to check on the wounds without ceasing his embrace and found the cut on the scalp well healed. Even the gash looked quite good today, the flesh no longer festering and swollen obviously all of the poison had been drawn out. He decided to keep the arm immobilized for another day to let it heal cleanly wrapping it only in fresh linen. But now time had come for the more intricate tasks. The marchwarden hoped that Thranduil by now would feel enough at ease with him to allow him to do what had to be done.
“There are two more things that ought to be done, my king”, he said softly, “first I’d like to rub you down with the remains of the herbal brew. There are still traces of orc venom mingled with your sweat, and I’m sure you don’t want to have these on your body. Then I want to wash your hair.”
Thranduil had watched Haldir’s ministrations with half drowsy eyes. He was astonished how tender these strong warrior hands could be. But then the marchwarden’s words stunned him out of his reverie. He wanted to rub his body down! For this he would have to get naked and then Haldir would notice his growing arousal.
“No, don’t!” he burst out before he could really think of what to say, “I think I can manage this on my own.” At once he noticed the hurt look in Haldir’s eyes.
“I assure you, I wouldn’t take advantage of you, my king, I only offered you my help.” Still bitterness about the former insults lingered in the marchwarden’s voice and made Thranduil squirm uncomfortably.
“I know, you wouldn’t and I really regret my thoughtless words from before. I never should have spoken to you like this. But I’ve been confused, barely awake I know you only want to help me but I’m just not used to be this – weak.”
Softened by the rueful words Haldir managed a wry smile.
“Surely you can manage this by yourself but it would exhaust you beyond any measure. There is no weakness in accepting freely offered help. I’d only quickly rub you down, I wouldn’t even look at your body and you could drape a blanket over your more – private parts if this would make you more comfortable. As for washing your hair, it would be quite a task to do it one-handed so please let me help you.”
As Thranduil silently nodded his agreement Haldir quickly rubbed him down from head to toe before he gathered a basin with soapy warm water to wash the tangled hair. As he carefully untangled the silky strands and massaged the elf’s head with tender movements of his strong fingers he couldn’t help to become aware of his hardening member. The king seemed to be totally relaxed under his touch and the marchwarden wanted to draw this peaceful sensation out for both of them as long as possible. A blissful moan escaped Thranduil´s lips and Haldir noticed a certain bulge growing under the blanket. Could it be that he was not the only one to be affected by his tender administrations? Could it be that the king of Mirkwood shared the same secret longing? How much he wanted to hold this beautiful elf in his arms, touch him, taste him, make him shiver and moan wantonly under him as he brought him to release. Rock hard by now Haldir’s erection strained against the uncomfortable tightness of his leggings. He had to finish washing Thranduil´s hair or else he would loose it here and there, creaming his leggings like a juvenile elfling. He rinsed the silky mane with clear water and rubbed it dry with soft linen. Still very aware of the other’s nearness he brushed out the golden strands until they shone like moonlight.
Thranduil felt like he’d be in heaven Never ever had he experienced sensations that felt as good as the tender care of Haldir’s strong but gentle hands. Giving himself over to this absolute bliss a delightful moan came out of his mouth. He didn’t want this to end and was almost disappointed when Haldir finished brushing his hair. Settling back against his makeshift pillows he smiled dreamily at the slightly blushed looking marchwarden.
“That felt really nice, thank you my friend. But you were right I feel slightly exhausted although you did all the work. I think I will rest now.” Not really wanting to loose the calming touch he added as if in an afterthought, “If you want you can lie down beside me.”
Swallowing hard Haldir crept under the blankets, carefully avoiding his almost painful hard-on to touch the warm body beside him. It would be hell to stay like this, but had there ever been a hell more sweet?
Thranduil suddenly wasn’t sure any more that it had been a good idea to invite Haldir into his bed. He was very aware of the gorgeous body next to him and his arousal grew to full hardness. Closing his eyes he tried to hide his disturbing feelings from his companion.
Haldir noticed a slight change in the king’s breathing and realized with a flush of heat that the other elf seemed to be in the same state than he, although he in vain tried to conceal it.
Smiling he turned over and whispered softly: “Are you in distress my king? Is there any way I can help you?”
“Nothing I can’t handle myself,” came the muffled replay.
“Surely you can handle it by yourself,” the mirth rang clearly through Haldir’s voice, “but would it not be much more pleasurable if you’d allow me to – handle it for you?”
With a groan Thranduil rolled onto his back, hot flames of need racing through his body.
“You could do that if this is what you want. But first help me to sit up; I want to see what you are doing to me. And I insist that you get into the same state that I am; I don’t want you to be fully clothed while I am stark naked.”
Moaning Haldir did as requested. Both elves felt a shuddering bolt of lightning flare straight down there groins as their skins came into contact for the first time. Gently Haldir reached out to run his nimble fingers over Thranduil´s silken hardness letting them trace the thick vein on the underside. At once he was rewarded with a strangled gasp. Slowly he let his thumb swirl over the purple head, gathering the first drops of precum only to massage them into the straining skin marveling over the texture of warm silk covered steel. He could not tear away his eyes from his hand wrapped around the throbbing thickness and the knowledge that the other elf was watching too made this the most arousing thing he had ever known.
Thranduil swam in a sea of pure bliss. His breath came out in heavy moans as he watched the wicked fingers move over his arousal. All of a sudden a new picture entered his mind and he wanted to watch another scene.
“Ah Haldir – feels so good – want to feel your mouth on me – want to see your lips around my cock – ah - please let me feel your tongue.!”
Eagerly obeying Haldir traced his tongue over the slip savoring the first taste of Thranduil´s sweet essence with a needful moan, the wet touch making the elvenking almost cry out with pleasure. Wanting to give a good show to his lover the marchwarden let his lips slowly cup the swollen head before gliding them inch by inch over the weeping length. Holding the needful moving hips in place he relaxed his throat and swallowed around the straining hardness, massaging the underside with his tongue, only to draw away again and repeat his movements in a steady rhythm.
For some time Thranduil watched the erotic display as if in a daze then his eyes shut and he gave himself over completely to the heavenly sensations. His back arched and his mouth fell open releasing an increasing stream of shuddering moans. He felt a growing tightness in his belly and knew he would not be able to hold back any longer.
“Ah – Valar – so good – so very good please do this again – don’t stop – Ah - can’t hold it back any longer – going to come - Haldir – Aaah!”
With a hoarse cry the king spilled deep down Haldir’s throat who eagerly swallowed the sweet essence and licked his lover through the shuddering aftermaths.
“Your taste is so sweet; it so wonderfully quells my thirst although I feel I never could get enough of it.” Whispering tender words of endearment the marchwarden reached for his own aching hardness only to find his hand pulled away by a gentle grip.
“A sweet taste would be a welcomed change after the foul droughts you poured down my throat, my lovely one. Let me taste you; show me that you can pour other things in me than your nasty medicine. Surely this would help me heal more throughout. Let me let you feel what you did to me”
With a shaking groan Haldir got to his knees straddling the broad shoulders of his new lover and shifted his hips until his precome dripping hardness was in easy reach for the eager mouth. His head fell back with a soft cry when the hot wetness of Thranduil´s tongue traced over his engorged flesh. He braced his arms against the rough wall and cradled his head in them as he moved his throbbing length in and out of the moist cavern, careful not to gag his lover. The sucking of the skillful mouth and the wicked movements on the nimble tongue were almost more than he could bear. Too quickly he felt the tension rise and soon he was sobbing out his staggering release.
As Haldir’s eyes regained focus after some time of post-orgasmic daze he found his gaze caught by sparkling green eyes. Tenderly the elvenking let his hands roam over his lover’s body capturing his hand and guiding it to his once again straining erection.
“Now see what your wantonness did to me, my lustful one. See how you made me hard again for you. But this time I want to come in you. Do you think Lorien would open her borders for Mirkwood? Do you think her marchwarden would welcome my visit? Will he let me trespass his borders?”
“Lorien would be very glad to welcome a guest as dear as you within her borders.” The playful words had rekindled Haldir’s own arousal. “The marchwarden would be most pleased by your visit. I’m not used to have my borders trespassed but I would really like you to do it.”
“So let me see how Lorien prepares for a royal visit. Do you have something to smoothen the way to make the encounter more easy for the both of us?”
Moaning Haldir reached for a vial with herbal oil and poured quite an amount of it over his fingers. Opening his legs wide in front of his lover he traced one oil-slick digit around his secret opening. He fought the urge to close his eyes in pleasure but held the gaze of the green eyes blazing with hot arousal. As he slowly pushed two of his fingers past his guardian muscle he could not suppress a needful groan. The steady gaze of his lover fueled his ecstasy to an almost unbearable measure. His hips started to rock back and forth as he fucked himself wantonly on his own fingers biting his lips to keep himself from crying his pleasure out loud. Adding a third finger he brushed lightly over his prostate making him arch his back, his head thrown back in a keening wail.
“Ah please! Take me now! I’m so ready for you, need you so much. Can’t wait any longer!”
Thranduil thought he could come alone from watching this most erotic display in front of his eyes. To see his striking lover fuck himself wantonly on his fingers was the hottest sight he’d ever behold. Groaning deep in his chest he let his gaze wander from the hidden opening stretched tightly around the invading fingers to the stunning face shining in utter bliss. Hearing his lover’s needful request he was just too willing to obey.
“Come here, my lustful one. Need to have you now! Let me take you, let me bring us both to fulfillment.”
Eagerly Haldir straddled his lover’s hips, coating the throbbing arousal with the remaining oil and positioned his entrance just above the considerable girth. Pain flared through his body when the thick head breached his opening making him draw in a sharp breath. Willing his body to relax he slowly pushed down on the hard length wild pleasure floating through him as soon as his body had adjusted to the invasion. Hearing his lover hiss in delight he threw his head back moaning out his own bliss. It felt so incredibly good to be filled like this, so incredibly good to feel the velvety steel of his lover’s arousal so deep within his body.
Having set up a steady rhythm both elves were soon giving themselves over to increasing pleasure moaning out loud with every movement.
“Ah- -so good to have you in me – so good to be filled by you- ah please touch me- -need so much to be touched.”
Wrapping his hand around the neglected weeping shaft Thranduil drew his lover closer to his chest this new angle making his length touch his lover’s sweet spot with every thrust. Hearing Haldir cry out his lust with every thrust and feeling his trembling passage clench around his length almost brought him over the edge.
“Ah my love – so close – so very close – come for me my love –ah Haldir - need you to come with me - aah Valar – Haldir!”
“Valar – so good – ah – so close – can’t hold back any longer – ah yes – ah my king – my love – aah now – Thranduil!”
Clinging to one another they both shivered in a mindblowing orgasm crying out their names like they would be a secret mantra. When they came back from the highs of their united climax they still held onto another until their breathing started to even out. With brightly shining eyes they looked deep into their souls finally healed from dreads from the past. Gently Thranduil kissed his lover’s lips and smiled lovingly at him.
“I faintly recall you asking me to put a sentence on you although it slipped my memory what you had done. Well then, my sentence will be that I keep you in Mirkwood as long as your Lord and Lady will allow it to – deepen our – diplomatic relations.”
“Whatever you wish my king, I’d be very glad to – deepen every kind of relation with you, be it diplomatic or not.”
The End