Request: In-character-ness, an Elven myth (either canon or plausible in terms of canon), angst -- and finally, well-written consensual BDSM would be a major plus

Summary: Maybe that Sindarin game had some kind of curse...

Author's Notes:

1) Erestor is a Gondolin survivor in this story.

2) As noted in the following excerpt from Silmarillion:

'She spoke no word; but being filled with love Elw� came to her and took her hand, and straightaway a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word.'

In my interpretation, Tolkien did not openly state that Melian was responsible for the spell that took over Thingol, or at least not deliberately. However, in this story, the naming of the game the elves played (Melian Spell) is solely made out of author's creative liberty (or lack thereof). It isn't meant to imply that Thingol had been bewitched by Melian on purpose.

3) I'm a layman in BDSM topic. This is my first (light) BDSM-esque fic. Massive fail is to be expected.

4) This space is exclusively reserved for lavishly thanking my beta-highness. All remaining mistakes are mine.

//flashback//

******************

The twin doors of the Halls of Fire swung open with muted exuberance, followed by the now familiar voices of a young human, who wasn't normally this talkative even in his best mood, and. of course, the one elf that could bring out the bright-eyed, chatty youth repressed somewhere within him. 'They're like corporeal children of Arien whenever they're around each other,' mused Erestor while sipping the belly-warming cordial he had been leisurely nursing. 'Always buoyant, always game for just about anything. They're thick as thieves. It's almost like having another pair of twins in this valley.' This was not entirely a good thing for the peace of the chief advisor's mind, for they reminded him too much of the younger version of the Elronnion twins, and that could never be good.

The only thing which tempered his dread and concern was that Elladan and Elrohir were never this bound to their judicious conscience and sense of duty when they were of similar age. Legolas' commendable self-restraint was a reflection of his father's wisdom and dutiful care as a loving parent and stern ruler. And perhaps owing to the fact that he had grown up without a mother, his upbringing had been much like that of Estel, who had been turned over to Elrond and his sons for instruction at a tender age. It explained to an extent, he supposed, that they were naturally drawn to each other, like long-separated siblings.

"Ah, I see that you two managed to arrive home from your hunt in a timely fashion," Erestor made a sidelong nod to indicate the unfriendly weather outside the partly-draped window, just shy of a rattling storm.

"This Wood Elf here," Estel thumbed toward his smug-looking companion in mock-disgust, "claimed that he could sniff the storm coming on amidst the few, selected fragrances his delicate nose can generally abide."

"And look how well my so-called delicate nose guided us! You owe this offended nasal marvel your grateful adulation, Trainee Ranger," the Silvan prince shot back in feigned aggravation. "I can mark the scent of orcs long before they catch your unsuspecting bottom in their field of fire."

Estel snorted in derision. "I suppose I should start cultivating flower beds beneath your guestroom windows as a token of my overwhelming awe and reverence."

"You may start down that path, yes," Legolas nodded sagely. "There's an invigorating breath to be savoured from your servile passion."

"Why you misbegotten warg-cub!" snarled the irked youth.

Legolas laughingly danced out of Estel's reach as the ranger grabbed for his collar. He took another swipe and lunge but the elf ducked behind one of the many artfully-arranged draperies that were meant to create and veil more intimate spaces for conversation in the great hall. He turned around, his heart stumbling along with his feet. They were not alone, or rather, Erestor was not alone before their merry arrival. He futilely blamed himself for lowering his guard after a relaxing, long soak in a warm bath earlier.

Flushing helplessly, Legolas stuttered for a wordless moment before he drew a deep breath and mustered a level voice. "Lord Glorfindel, Saelbeth. Please forgive our raucous intrusion on your quiet moment."

"Forgiven and forgotten! As well as all the rest of your imaginary faults," offered Glorfindel with a smile that secretly reminded Legolas, with the barest quiver of spine, of afterglow. He stiffened slightly as his apprehensive glance met the all-too-knowing look from Saelbeth who was lounging comfortably next to the seneschal, head pillowed on Glorfindel's solid arm stretched out on the back of the settee, a crystal goblet of red wine perched on his elegant fingers and a lazy smile on his comely face. Together, they made such an exquisite vision of beauty it made Legolas' heart ache.

Erestor observed the undercurrent of tension slowly pervading the air around the Mirkwood prince with a spark of unexpected interest. Glorfindel and Saelbeth's relationship was old news in Imladris, but it had been heart-breaking news to many, even to this day. That perchance a young woodland prince might be counted amongst the crestfallen suitors should not have come as a surprise. Yet the story was not as simple as it seemed, not without the clues to let you know what you were looking for.

Saelbeth hailed from Thranduil's court. He was raised in the Silvan culture of Mirkwood, possessing a great mind, an eye for politics, and a silver tongue. He had a gift for the art of diplomacy, and was an intimidating, threatening presence in the council room. Erestor often praised him for these abilities, quite a heady compliment coming from Elrond's Chief Advisor. Less secure councilors had been known to bandy criticism behind their backs.

Saelbeth also happened to be around the same age as Legolas, perhaps only a decade or two younger, yet one would be surprised to learn how vastly they differed from one another. Nobody ever referred to Saelbeth as 'the youth', just as none would ever regard Legolas as 'the elder'. Saelbeth embraced the prestige and constrictions of court life, whereas Legolas could not sit through a drawn-out council fight without a wistful look. Saelbeth did not simply perform his duties, he excelled. He was one of those rare individuals who was gifted with flair for anything he put his mind to, while Legolas was fairly well acquainted with humiliating failures.

There had been a whispered joke within Thranduil's court that carried over to Imladris, of Saelbeth and Legolas being switched at birth. Erestor could not think of a more wicked way to break a person's self-confidence, especially a son of King. At least in Imladris he had a firm say in tamping down any rampant gossip. In Mirkwood there was Galion, or so he hoped... Nay, he should not cast doubt upon the ancient Sinda's integrity, even though the irony of Saelbeth being his beloved nephew did not escape him. Galion had served the House of Oropher since time immemorial...

Glorfindel laughed quietly at something Saelbeth said under his breath. He then shared the jest with Legolas, who gave a brief chuckle. To Erestor's astute ears, it sounded more out of politeness than genuine mirth. The calm advisor still made no excessive move or sound that would remind others of his presence in the room, content to be ignored for the moment. His attention was piqued slightly when the lines of Legolas' lithe frame gave off signs of pending retreat, but Estel beat him to it. The young man appeared at the Mirkwood elf's side bearing two wine cups, one he passed smoothly to his friend without turning his gaze. Legolas was helpless to do aught but accept it.

The man took a look at the reclining blond warrior and raised a half-questioning, half-disbelieving eyebrow. "You abstaining, pen iaur?"

"Surely you know me better than that, Estel," drawled Glorfindel. "One does not necessarily need a cup to enjoy the heady sweetness of excellent wine." Taking the cue as Saelbeth chose that moment to pull another slow sip of his own wine, Glorfindel made a show of elaborating his point, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Here, let me broaden your wine-drinking horizons."

The golden head bent down, and didn't emerge for air for a long while.

Erestor had seen it coming from the beginning word of 'abstain'.

"Shameless old lecher," grumbled Estel, grinning.

"That he is," agreed Saelbeth, more than a little breathless and dizzy after Glorfindel's oral assault. "Though I must say I hardly mind."

Unamused and uninterested, Erestor idly took a trickling mouthful from his own goblet and let his field of vision narrow to a single figure.

At times, Erestor wondered what the young prince was thinking when he furtively stole a moment for himself, like now, when no one paid him attention, and the blue mirror of his eyes became murky and aged.

He must have carried a torch for Glorfindel for so long. Such a sad thing.

'That he is.' Erestor swung his eyes so swift and sharp his gaze could have cut glass, meeting the source who deliberately gave him a projected thought. The piercing depth of his midnight orbs met pale, green eyes over the rim of crystal glass, raised slightly to salute him.

Pale, green eyes that twinkled with laughter and hidden secrets.

'That... he is.'

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"There you are. Since I heard you went hunting with Legolas, I had high hopes you'd beat the storm in time," greeted Elrohir as the yo-... nay, it has been close to twenty five years now - man walked through the portal and approached them. Erestor turned his gaze from the windows. His mind had wandered in aimless thought for an immeasurable time when a great sense of d�j� vu suddenly descended over him. Only he wasn't taken back to the great hall, he was sitting in Elrond's family room, a heavy tome lay forgotten on his lap and he had the twins and Estel for company.

Outside, the brooding sky had finally decided to fly into a rage.

Erestor eyed the lines of the philosophical text he usually found absorbing. Tonight, though, they appeared to be as interesting to his weary eyes as lines of ants. He turned a couple of pages to see whether a paragraph or a thread of some theory would jump at him; but none did. His drifting thoughts and gaze eventually found their way back to the wet racket beyond the windows.

Stormy nights made people desire warmth: in their drink and food, in their bed, warmth in their soul. These were the natural cravings of being alive, and stormy nights brought them out stronger than any other time. Erestor appreciated stormy nights for different reasons. They grounded him, reminded him to be thankful for what he had, to be fully conscious of the simple pleasures in life, like a blazing hearth to warm your cold toes and the presence of your dear ones in the same room. He had always blithely ignored these things in his younger days.

A magnificent concert of thunder and lightning filled the rolling expanse of the inky sky with a short-lived panoply of nature's wild dance. Erestor's heart lifted in a tame kind of awe before settling back into tranquil reflection.

It was so easy to let the pelting rain cleanse the earth of your past footprints and let you start anew, yet a living mind could be a stubborn masochist. Even without closing his eyes, undesired imagery still stole across his vision, the mocking spectre of his past, deriding the fact that he was sitting there in comfort, able to daydream and reminisce when on another day, another lifetime, he had been on the verge of losing his sane mind to the cruel meddling of fate.

There was blood, and rain, and an endless muddy path littered with fallen comrades...

He never forgot the hollow gaze of his King... he could never forget...

...yet he lived on.

He lived on.

"Take care not to leave your body unattended for too long, oh scholarly one, lest it might get snatched away by a wandering spirit."

Erestor returned to the present smoothly, almost like his mind had not wandered, and regarded the younger twin with a gleam of dry humour. "Worry not on my account, pen neth. I heard say they fancy younger vessels for their wicked purposes."

Estel chuckled briefly as he rose from his seat. "Would you like me to pour you some of that exotic, spiced wine from Harad, Erestor? I notice it has become a personal favorite of yours as of late."

A personal favorite as of late. Yes, he had many personal, occasionally changing, favorites. Being an elf of discriminating taste, he usually couldn't help falling for the irresistible charms of something that was intricately concocted, hid many subtle surprises, and was subsequently able to make every inch of his senses aware and alive, be it wine... or other less than innocent things. Yet tonight, he found himself yearning for something simple and homely; something that would cocoon him in soothing warmth and fonder memories.

Erestor closed the thick volume he held and placed it on the tea table. "My thanks for your offer, Estel. But you may go ahead without me. It so happens that I was thinking of visiting the kitchen and getting myself..."

A cheerful voice answered him from the door. "Some tea? Elbereth is smiling upon you, Lord Erestor."

In walked Legolas, bearing a tray of tea wares, the tantalizing aroma of fresh tea wafting from the fat, porcelain teapot sitting primly beside the upturned cups. Erestor couldn't believe his luck. Small and insignificant it might be in the face of greater concerns in life, but here he was, admiring the slender fingers that poured the liquid gracefully and raised the first cup of blessed warmth for him to take.

"Thank you, Legolas. It was... very thoughtful of you." Erestor contemplated his own reflected image in the teacup for a pensive moment. "If only life were made of more serendipity and less... misfortune."

"You are awfully sentimental this night, Erestor," commented Elladan.

"Bear in mind that I'm much older than your father. I have a right to be sentimental when the mood strikes me."

Erestor took a slow, glorious sip then suddenly paused, raising a knowing gaze to the prince, and nodded in instant approval.

"I took the liberty of complementing the brew," explained Legolas when he took stock of the inquiring looks made by Estel and the twins. "It's a family recipe, but I've done some experimenting on my own and this is one of the improved results. A mix of black tea with Southern Rum and a nice tang of citrus. Although I've made sure to brew it milder than what I usually drink. Mine usually tastes, uh... fruitier and sweeter. Would you care to try some?"

Erestor smiled to himself.

A seemingly ordinary thing, yet not so simple at all.

This might just be the perfect thing for him.

Legolas gave the dark-haired advisor a puzzled look when, after pouring a round of tea for everyone else in the room, he noticed the elder's eyes appear to be glued to him with a twinkle of mirth. "What is it, Lord Erestor?"

"Nay, Legolas. I just found it adorable that you never grew out of your sweet tooth and are not too proud to admit it. I remember the first day you visited Imladris with your father. Endearingly small and cuddly you were, fighting your nervousness to greet all the strange elves you had never met. You were a very sweet and shy little elfling, always so polite and careful not to disturb the adults. But the best part was how your sweet nature shone brighter than ever when, one evening after dinner, Glorfindel cut you a piece of cake topped with the biggest strawberry you claimed to have ever seen. You looked as if Glorfindel had just plucked the sun from the sky for you and thanked him, your small voice so grateful, your cheeks rosy, your face alight with happiness. I thought everyone present was thinking of gifting you their strawberries but then Thranduil cleared his throat and firmly said no, obviously reading our collective minds."

Even as the anecdote progressed, Legolas' cheeks grew rosier and rosier until the tingling heat reached the tip of his ears. Estel quickly swallowed his tea to save himself from choking, listening with rapt interest while struggling to suppress his bubbling laughter. Only after Erestor finished the story did he throw his head back and let out all that pent-up glee in a hearty guffaw. The twins did not fare better either. Legolas threw them all a dirty glare.

"Aw, you precious little darling. How Erestor breaks my heart with your baby story. You have my solemn oath to never pilfer the strawberry from your cake ever again," intoned Estel seriously before he succumbed to another playful snicker.

"Take care not to choke on your own spittle and die of suffocation, Estel," rejoined Legolas darkly. "as you will find no aid from your former Mirkwood ally."

"Too bad we didn't see it for ourselves. Where were we at that time, Erestor?" asked Elrohir.

"Gallivanting somewhere in the wild, I have no doubt," replied Erestor breezily, his usually reserved smile just a tad brighter than usual. He was feeling inordinately warm and relaxed, which was a rare sensation for him. Something about the tea, or so he believed, was doing unaccountable wonders to his slumbering lust. All things considered, Erestor didn't think the somehow increasingly attractive prince had put any untoward ingredient in the drink. Elrohir was on his second cup and Estel a third one and they seemed to be fine and unaffected, which incidentally gave him a perfect excuse to ask for a refill and brush their fingers together oh so innocently. Erestor couldn't care less if his body was behaving out of character or even if Legolas had started to sense the thrumming echo of his quickening desire. His inventive mind was too busy formulating an ingenious plan that would permit him to get closer to the prince, and perhaps make off with an appreciative feel of the silky-looking skin to carry into his dreams without evoking the wrong kind of impression and thus chasing the Wood Elf away prematurely.

"I also recall an interesting game introduced by one of your father's older advisors during that visit." He picked up the thread of conversation again. "An old, traditional Sindarin folk game that traces its roots back to ancient Doriath; one that is oft played on stormy nights like this when the orchestra of nature outperforms a minstrel's vocals. Do you know of which game I speak, Legolas?"

Like the proverbial lamb, Legolas took the bait and stepped right into the trap. "Oh, you're talking about 'Melian Spell'!"

"Melian Spell?" The twins visibly perked at the mention of a game that was inspired by their Maia-ancestress. "We never heard of this game in the lamentably brief time we spent in Mirkwood. What is it like?" Elladan voiced their curiosity.

"You're no stranger to the myth of how King Thingol came to find Melian in the depths of Nan Elmoth, right?" Upon looking at the contentious look rapidly growing on the twins' expression, Legolas hastily amended his words. "Ai, I know it was a bad choice of words for an elf to use, since we're supposed to be the Elder Kindred who has witnessed far more unimaginable things in our history. But you have to admit that the tale of their first meeting has a strong mythical air about it."

"In which Thingol had been intractably smitten with the Maia upon her first sight and as he reached out to take her hand, an enchantment fell over him and long years passed before they spoke any word?" Estel piped up. "I certainly have no trouble agreeing with our woodland friend here."

Erestor quickly interjected in his equitable loremaster tone, before the younger ones lost interest in the game and felt drawn to start a debate instead. "There's no written account of their first meeting, not even from King Thingol himself, only lore and songs passed through oral tradition, yet the source itself never confirmed or denied anything. Whatever happened in that forest stayed only between them."

"In other words, Thingol did not kiss and tell," Elladan smirked.

"Exactly. But that did not discourage the bards and minstrels from getting creative, especially when they have arguably the greatest love story known to the Firstborn," Erestor concurred amicably.

"So what is this game like?" Elrohir brought up the topic again, much to his former tutor's silent approval.

Legolas continued his explanation. "Ai, 'tis rather silly! At least as we used to play it among ourselves as children. The story goes that Melian's magic wove itself around Thingol upon contact and thus he fell into a deep trance. To outside world, it would appear as if he'd been turned into a statue as he neither made a move nor sound for an unreasonably long time. The game basically takes off from that idea. It is merely a contest between two people to see who can outlast the other in their imitation of the pair of enchanted lovers."

"So are you saying that the players must stand stock-still, holding each other's hands and not move a muscle until someone caves in first?" Elrohir couldn't stifle a quirk of an amused smile. "Sounds to me like the kind of game that could get boring pretty quickly."

"Is that even possible, though?" remarked Estel skeptically. "Surely you can't do without blinking for so long?" His question was met with a concerted blank look from the elves. "Well, you can't, can you?"

"Isn't it a joy to learn new things every day, Estel?" quipped Elladan lightly, enjoying the way his casual statement seemed to knock his foster brother's wit off its feet and leave the man gaping. Estel looked back and forth to determine whether or not they were pulling his leg, finally conceding defeat after his incredulous gaze landed on the calm, erudite advisor. Erestor would not lie over something so meaningless.

"This is ridiculous," Estel muttered under his breath.

"Which is why you never have any inkling that we're capable of pulling such act," added Elrohir. "Flaunting such ability would make us even more ridiculous."

"But not for this game," Legolas beamed cheerfully. "We may be capable to quell the urge to blink for a prolonged time, yet it still requires some effort and concentration, which is all part of the challenge. It really isn't as silly as I initially made out to be. In fact, it can be quite fun and challenging. For elflings it could turn rather silly because we were a giddy bunch and just couldn't stop giggling. We giggled at everything and nothing! So it was very hard to stay still and not... burst into giggles.

"However, adults have been known to spice up the game with bets of sexual favours." Legolas nearly laughed out loud when the twins suddenly leapt to full attention, their backs snapped into straight lines so abruptly it startled the heir of Isildur, who had chosen that moment to drain the remaining tea in his cup. Erestor snorted, albeit elegantly. Those two were embarrassingly predictable.

Clearing his throat, Erestor offered a piece of his own knowledge gleaned from curiosity-driven research. "Well, 'tis true that in ancient Doriath, proposing to play Melian Spell had been implicitly known as an unspoken invitation to explore mutual attraction. If not established beforehand, whichever side wins the game usually procures the privilege to lead their first dance between the sheets."

"All the more reason for us to learn the finer points of this game," enthused Elrohir.

"Because flaunting such ability in order to get inside someone's pants makes you not ridiculous at all." Estel rolled his eyes.

"Whine all you like, muindor. This game is out of your league," grinned Elladan.

"Why don't you show us, Legolas?" the younger twin asked.

Legolas briefly considered the request then looked up and smiled devilishly. "A great disservice I will likely do to my Sindarin kin by teaching you this game, but why not? Shall we start then? First, it takes two to play..." Legolas' words faded as he considered each elf in the room.

Great surprise overtook the young archer when the noble advisor rose graciously from his seat, silver-grey robes spilling from his lap in a fluid sweep of velvet as he gallantly strode around the low table separating their seats and held out his hand.

"If I may have the pleasure, my dear prince."

Legolas could not explain to himself why his heart suddenly decided to pound furiously, sending the ruby blood rushing up to his face and stubbornly refusing to journey back for unnecessarily long minutes. Before the scene could grow awkward, he offered a courteous smile and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"You have played this game before, my lord?"

"Indeed I have," affirmed Erestor.

"Then I can find no teaching partner more suitable than you."

Legolas rose from his seat, inclined his head, and took Erestor's hand, letting the older elf guide him away to the clear space in the room unobstructed by furniture. They stood before the cluster of sofa seats they had vacated, where Estel and twins were left to enjoy the show. Slowly the Noldo lord relinquished his hold and turned, leaving the prince for a little while, to head towards the tall cabinets lining the north wall. He returned, carrying an hourglass which he passed over to Elladan before he reclaimed his place on the floor a few paces away from his partner. Legolas nodded to him to signify his readiness.

Legolas began again in the direction of their attentive pupils, "The rules for players are these: both must remain alert until the end of the game. They may not slip into waking reverie -- no matter how slightly -- to dull their senses. The only movement you are allowed to make is your breathing -- still, you may not go overboard with it. Just breathe as if a dagger is pressed to your throat; keep the rise and fall of your chest imperceptible.

"The rules for observers are also quite simple. Whatever you do, you may not touch the players, however indirectly, such as blowing air into our faces or using inanimate objects to harass us. And no dirty tricks, either. When I was a child, there was a bully who always sneaked a lizard inside my clothes whenever he saw me playing this game. I was only thankful that he was too cowardly to catch any poisonous insects or spiders for his vile pranks." Everyone winced in sympathy; some added a scowl of disdain.

"I did not mean to imply that any of you would actually stoop that low," added Legolas sheepishly. "I just thought it would do no harm to have a clear understanding from the start. That brings us to the last rule -- you may try to verbally provoke any one of us but you may not speak untruths."

"Really? That is an interesting twist to the game," noted Elrohir, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "How far may we take it?"

"Hmm... As long as it will not bring about a breach of confidence, I say do your worst. How about you, Lord Erestor?"

"That is acceptable -- However�" Erestor stressed the last word for the twins' benefit, smirking menacingly. "I will give no promise of letting you off easily, without repercussions, should you get carried away."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a look and answered with their own fearless smiles. "We'll live with that."

"That goes for you, too, Estel."

"You wound me, lamb vaen!" Estel put up an affronted facade. "I can't believe you just put me on the same level as these creatures of ill repute! For that remark alone, I shall now side with Legolas and be sure to divulge all your sleaze before hightailing it to the wilderness."

"Oh, but sooner or later you shall have to return," said Erestor evenly. "Or face the risk of a certain elleth utterly forgetting your existence and finding herself free to cultivate a round-the-clock, more devoted suitor." Flushing, Estel ducked his head, triumphantly silenced. Erestor resumed the tedious prep talk so they might finally get on with the game. His patience could only last so long dealing with trivialities, especially when he was so close to getting what he wanted. "Because this is merely a tutoring practice and not a real contest, we will simultaneously stop when the hourglass runs out of sand and declare it a draw if neither of us yields first."

"Who shall be the judge?" asked Elrohir.

"The more judges the better," Legolas replied.

"It is settled then!" Elladan proclaimed as he held the hourglass aloft. "Let the game begin..."

Both elves turned their gaze to the other, and suddenly it felt as if the light in the room dimmed softly as their inner lights burned brighter. Like a pair of distant beacons in the moonless night, wordlessly calling to each other. Time slowed; the air stilled. All else faded into grey insignificance.

The descendants of Thingol and Melian held their breath as the taller, darker elf took a sedate step, followed by another, and yet another, seemingly in no hurry but at the same time, the only thing that mattered in their segregated-from-reality universe. Erestor drew disconcertingly near, yet Legolas did not shy away, a light of profound emotion flickering in his eyes.

Wearing his smitten heart on his sleeve unashamedly, the charcoal-eyed elf gazed down at the vision who had stolen his breath, filled his heart with love and desire so mindlessly powerful they clouded his wisdom, turned him blind and deaf to the rest of the world. A splash of the sweetest blush stained pale cheeks as blue eyes bravely bore the intense gaze, and Erestor's heart soared to even greater heights of affection and tenderness to witness the desirous effect of his presence on this ethereal being -- It made him all the more reachable, attainable.

And so he sought to prove himself right, to make his dreams come true.

Flesh reached out to touch flesh, even as chastely simple as holding hands, yet the gesture was pregnant with their unspoken vows. Cradling the smaller hand in a gentle yet firm hold of strong fingers that would forever be reluctant to let it go, the stranger pulled his beauty closer. Their eyes delved into each other's soul, let the other do the same, hiding nothing. Their faces inched closer until a beholder could not help thinking that one of them would either bend down or rise on their tiptoes to kiss the other... but nothing happened.

They stopped... and were no longer moving.

Elrohir inverted the hourglass with a flourish� "now!"

Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel all breathed a sigh, born from a mixture of breathless wonder and crushing disappointment, having watched the romantic prelude to the game which, in truth, was anything but inanely boring. They had to give a nod of respect to their friend and tutor. They did not just play the game, they played the roles as well!

"As much as I am loath to admit it, I never thought it was possible to make love with just your eyes," confessed Elrohir, somewhat distracted.

"Aye. Had I not known better, I would start penning a message to warn King Thranduil that he might never see his precious son inside the borders of his kingdom again," Elladan chuckled faintly.

The next handful of minutes were spent studiously observing the immobile couple -- Estel in particular was intent on proving the truth about the whole 'not blinking' thing. Unfortunately, he did not possess the keen sight of the elves, so he had to get up and approach the pair of elves, circling them a bit and finally settling on watching them from the opposite direction of his foster brothers, to ensure they had full supervision from both sides. A surreptitious glance told him that the twins had decided to keep an eye on each player -- Elladan on Erestor, while Elrohir on Legolas. That gave him freedom to watch a bit of both.

Seconds trickled by into minutes, minutes steadily crawled towards the end of the hour. Aragorn barely marked the passage of time, so occupied was he in his many attempts to distract the pair of living statues. At first, he tried to invade their personal space, stepping in close and peering into their eyes from unnatural angles. Next, he tried making funny faces. When that attempt failed as well, he tested another method -- walking casually behind Legolas, he suddenly paused and coughed loudly. The elf did not even flinch. Switching targets, Aragorn gave it another shot, this time yelling "Dear Valar! The library is on fire!" behind Erestor's back.

The twins gave up their vigilance in favour of clutching their sides as hysterical laughter burst from them and shook their frames.

"You just broke one of the rules, Estel," Elladan said.

"...by telling one big, fat untruth," finished Elrohir. "Nice try, though. Very dignified."

"Shut up! I don't see you helping at all!" snapped Estel testily, though the indignation swiftly crumbled from his face as he could not bridle his own laughter. Amid the chortling and sniggering, he stole a glance at Erestor and Legolas, almost sure he would find one of them unable to remain serene and unperturbed by the hilarity of the situation. He didn't know whether to feel irked or unnerved to be proven wrong.

"Why should we when we're having so much fun watching you do it for us?" the younger twin teased.

"While your methods so far have only broken one rule, I think your notion of the game may have veered off the trail somewhat. You have to remember what this game is all about. Ease up a bit. Let me show you the more entertaining way to distract our lovebirds." Elladan rose from his seat.

Estel stepped back and let Elladan close in on the couple in order to demonstrate his diversionary skill. "Knock yourself out," he deadpanned.

Elladan initiated his move by taking his sweet time prowling around the elves, just letting his presence be absorbed. Tension began to gradually flow into Legolas' posture. The twin could sense his growing apprehension, all to his smug pleasure. He had a feeling Legolas would likely be the first to come apart. Erestor had too icy a demeanor for Elladan's plan to ever work with him. But that did not matter, the advisor wasn't about to be spared from his share of taunts either.

And so he began his assault, by purring -- quite audibly for all to hear -- into Erestor's ear.

"Isn't he a welcome sight? Truly it is difficult to find another elf quite like him. Such big, trusting eyes Legolas has, like they were like begging you to defile his sweet body."

Estel nearly slipped off the wall he was resting his back upon. Elrohir was smiling like a cat who'd just stolen the cream.

"Have you never wondered, when he blushes prettily like this, whether the rest of him would glow just as prettily in the throes of desire?"

Legolas responded by displaying the brightest shade of red known to elfkind.

"I've seen you naked before, Erestor. We both know your robes hide more than anyone could possibly imagine. Now you've seen how slender our prince's waist is, how beautifully proportioned he is. Imagine how much that tiny space inside him would tightly grip you."

Elladan knew what lust looked like. One only needed to take a deep look into the eyes to identify it. In Erestor, lust was darkly dangerous and all-consuming and as it was growing infinitely thicker, Elladan actually began to fear for his friend's safety. Yet he was having too much fun to stop now.

"Legolas, ah sweet Legolas... you're such a lucky elf. Do you have any idea how many ellyn and ellith in this valley would tear each other's limbs just to be in your place right now, to be on the receiving end of that smouldering, hungry look from our virile advisor?"

Elladan bent down close to the Legolas' ear and whispered in a deep, husky voice.

"When he looks at you like that, does it not fill you with an unberable desire to please him? Does it not make you ache to be filled to the hilt and taken like a beast in heat?"

Legolas was almost at his limit, Elladan could tell from the desperate look in his eyes. Just a little nudge ...

A gust of cold wind suddenly invaded the room from the open doorway, interrupting the twin's focus. He turned around to see who it was that had decided to join them in the family room as Elrohir and Estel did the same. Elrond had long since retired to his bedroom and rarely emerged again unless there was an emergency. Glorfindel was visiting the Golden Wood with his Silvan lover and Lindir was busy with his correspondence. Who could it be?

"See? I knew we'd find them all in here."

"Glorfindel! Saelbeth! When did you return from Lothl�rien?" exclaimed Elladan in surprise, giving an even greater shock to the Mirkwood elf whose back was to the door.

"This morning, actually." Glorfindel sauntered into the room while Saelbeth took off in a different direction, no doubt thinking of pouring some mead for both of them. "Though we were a little too preoccupied with presenting a formal a report to your father, among other things, to make an appearance at dinner."

"I bet these other things required a whole day to finish, eh?" drawled Elrohir, his eyes following Saelbeth's movements briefly before he came back to address his blond mentor with a teasing wink.

"Absolutely," smirked Glorfindel.

Erestor inwardly frowned at this unexpected arrival. His gaze was still locked with Legolas' and neither of them made any move to call off the game, yet he was no longer in the mood to keep up the competition, not with the other two blonds in the room. Their unexpected presence seemed to portend trouble. Erestor did not want the evening, which had been going excellently well so far, to end unpleasantly.

Glorfindel raised a golden eyebrow upon discerning the couple, who stood so completely transfixed on each other they did not even bother raising their eyes to greet them. "Care to explain what our dear friends are doing here?"

"Ah, they're playing Melian Spell. How nostalgic," crooned Saelbeth, who had just returned to his lover's side, passing Glorfindel one of the goblets he had brought. "A fitting game for a romantic evening, don't you agree, meleth?"

Something seemed to suddenly occur to Glorfindel, for his grin suddenly grew wide and excited. "Why, Erestor, you sly rogue. I admire your temerity to chase a royal prey."

Erestor's mind boggled at his old friend's insensitivity. Glorfindel could be scandalously short-sighted at times and carelessly free with his speech despite his harmless intentions, but this was beyond forbearance. No matter how familiar they had been over the centuries, Legolas was still a king's son and a warrior who had worked hard to earn his recognition. Even an elf-maid of lower status did not deserve to be spoken of in such a manner. While Elladan's licentious taunts were meant to get under their skin in the game, Glorfindel's rude comment was inexcusable.

Erestor was about to make his thoughts known quite scathingly when he felt a slight tightening of Legolas' fingers.

'Please, don't,' the blue eyes pleaded. 'Please.'

Erestor had no choice but to waive his reply. That didn't mean he was not planning to give Glorfindel a bleeding earful on the next day outside the hearing of the prince. The blond oaf was long overdue for a reminder to be more conscious of his surroundings and people's feelings.

"Since we're all gathered here," he heard Saelbeth speak. "Why don't you share the good news, beloved?"

Glorfindel nodded, taking one of Saelbeth's hands into his and smiling fondly into his beautiful lover's eyes. The room fell silent in anticipation.

"During our stay in Lothl�rien, we decided to exchange rings of betrothal."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Two hours later Erestor was still mulling over the whirlwind of events that had brought them to this unpredicted moment -- here, on his freshly rumpled bed, catching his breath as the sated prince clung to him in his recuperating sleep. Maybe that Sindarin game had some kind of curse, though far be it for him to complain.

He looked down at the sleeping face of his companion and gently wiped the lingering dampness at the corners of glazed blue eyes. For the first time in his ancient life, he did not know what he should do. His heart wavered, his ever sensible mind driven out of its depth. Erestor always prided himself on knowing exactly what he wanted out of life, out of a relationship, out of anything. Yet now, he barely even understood what he was doing.

//After fleeing from the room with some vague, mumbled excuse, the prince could not be found anywhere. Everyone, excluding Saelbeth, had expressed their concern for him, but Erestor assured them that everything was fine before he took off to grimly pursue the distraught elf. Yes, everything was fine except Legolas.

The Noldo Lord met Estel, who was on his way to check on his Mirkwood friend also. The prince's guest room was empty, which did not bode well. The rainstorm had not relented and was unlikely to do so for the rest of the night. He could not bear the thought of the young elf, drenched to his bones and chilled to his core, somewhere in the vast grounds of Imladris.

Alerting the guards had been the first option that leapt into the advisor's mind yet, unfortunately, it would also be the last thing Legolas would welcome right now. Aragorn had wisely chosen not to pry and simply aided the advisor by covering as much area of their search as possible. They parted ways and met again after making a wide circuit around The Last Homely House. Both came up with nothing, not even a single hint where the Wood Elf might hole up. Surely he couldn't have blindly run into the storm?

"Legolas!" Erestor stepped out onto an open balcony and cried out in frustration, heedless of the rain and wind battering his face and clothes. "Legolas, where are you!"

An insistent hand on his shoulder pulled the Noldo elf back deeper into the dry corridor. Erestor turned to meet Estel's empathic blue-grey eyes. "He will probably return to his rooms after a time. Let him be, Erestor."

A moment of silence, then Erestor nodded. Estel spared a last look over his shoulder, before he reluctantly faded into the dark corridor, leaving Erestor alone.

A thought of waiting in Legolas' rooms until the prince returned crossed Erestor's mind. As he took a moment to ruminate over the propriety of this action, and how it would affect Legolas if the young elf returned to find an unwelcome guest waiting for him in his bedroom, his old warrior's instinct suddenly kicked in and sensed the other's presence even before he emerged from the shadows.

"You may want to return to your room, Chief Advisor." The face that was partially obscured by the darkness said. "Trust me."

A bright flash of lightning illuminated the corridor fleetingly, followed by a blasting clap of thunder and its rumbling conclusion. The look the Noldo Lord gave to the elf spoke volumes of his black mood.

"Am I also a part of your grand plan, Saelbeth?"

No answer was given, only a glimpse of a thin smile before the figure retreated out of sight. Erestor clenched his fists tightly, longing for a means to channel his boiling anger. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and went to his chambers.

As he rounded the last junction of corridors that would bring him to the door of his rooms, his steps faltered for the briefest moment, then halted completely. The term 'a drowned kitten' couldn't be more apt to describe the forlorn elf leaning on the wall beside the entrance, eyes cast down, heedlessly creating a growing puddle on the stone floor. A small, untouched part of Erestor's old, jaded heart broke a little.

"Legolas," he softly called.

The Mirkwood prince raised his eyes from the floor. Judging from the dazed look he wore, he was clearly still in a state of shock. Upon seeing Erestor's fixed, stoic stance, as if waiting for him to remove himself from Erestor's path, Legolas became even more hopelessly lost.

"I'm sorry. I... I thought I heard you call my name." The words were spoken in a small, brittle voice.

At that moment, Erestor cared not for eloquence or tact. All he could think of was to pull the rain-soaked elf into his room.//

The golden prince stirred lightly in his embrace, unconsciously tightening the hold over Erestor's broad chest and long, sculpted legs, afraid to lose the only source of warmth and comfort his body and mind craved so much right now. Erestor pulled the smaller elf closer, kissing the anxiety-ridden forehead and whispering soothing nonsense until his sleepy lover relaxed again, examining his own inner turmoil.

Protective compassion was what he would like to call the feeling he harbored for the fair prince, but deep down inside, much as he wished to deny it, he knew it was different.

He knew it was more.

//Rummaging inside the hidden compartment built in his wardrobe which he hadn't opened for quite a long time, his fingers soon struck home and drew out two sets of leather cuffs, each with its own silver fastening that could be attached to a chain, and Erestor had a number of them of varying lengths.

"Put these on your ankles and wrists," he ordered the doe-eyed elf who was sitting on his bed, wholly divested of his wet clothing.

Legolas meekly complied and did as he was told, his movements not those of someone who was doing this for the first time. Erestor did not say a thing until he finished strapping the cuffs and returned to his previous position. Only then did he stride forward and grab a handful of those luxurious, moon-kissed locks, bringing their faces so close they could taste each other's breath.

"You know what a safeword is, Legolas?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what to do with it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Ours will be hourglass."//

When did this happen? When did this distant admiration, what used to be paternal affection, turn into something that threatened to throw his peacefully boring world off balance? Everything in his old life used to make sense, yet now, after only one stormy night, he barely recognized himself anymore.

//Legolas moaned pitifully, stretched around a thick, oiled phallus expertly manipulated by his master. The Noldo Lord had attached a palm's length of chains linking each wrist to an ankle after he made him bow down on his slightly parted knees so far until his face touched the sheets, baring the supple globes of flesh and shy opening exquisitely. Erestor smiled.

Truly he had never seen a sight quite this beautiful.

"The things I would like to do to you," he murmured to himself.//

Erestor closed his eyes and felt the rapid re-awakening of his passion. Over the long millennia, he had never been so lucky as to find such a responsive lover. He could easily become obsessed if he did not tread carefully.

//"No! No, please don't pull out! Please..." Legolas pleaded sobbingly. "Spill inside me, Master. I want to feel the heat of your release."//

He remembered how hard and deep he had taken him, until the breathless elf beneath him nearly passed out from the overwhelming force and pressure, yet still, he begged for more.

//"Come for me, Legolas."

"Yes, Master... anything... anything for you... Aah!"//

"Erestor?"

The advisor looked down and stared mutely at the gentle visage of his young lover. He was surprised to hear Legolas call his name without his usual polite honorific. Erestor had learned early in their acquaintance that the prince had grown up under strict teaching to respect his elders. That's why it was difficult for him to eschew the use of honorific even if others insisted that he change his ways.

Not receiving an answer, Legolas began to squirm self-consciously, perceiving Erestor's silence as a blatant sign of disapproval. "Please forgive my presumptuous disrespect..."

"Nay, it wasn't that," Erestor hastily replied, unable to hold back a smug smile as his fingers softly brushed the ivory cheek. "I like it. I like it very much."

Erestor never thought to see the day when he could feel his heart expand to the point of nearly bursting just from seeing Legolas' happy smile. Had he really fallen beyond rescue?

"Where do you want to go from here, gilith tithen?" he asked softly.

"I don't... really know," Legolas spoke slowly, hesitatingly. "All I know is that I don't want to go back to the way we were before tonight. Is... is it too insufferable of me to ask this from you?"

"Nay... not you." The ancient Noldo breathed a deep sigh, profound relief uncoiling inside him.

"Thank you... Master." Erestor was amused to note how enthusiastically ready his sweet elf was to play their bedroom games again. Such a bundle of endless energy, he would derive great pleasure from discovering him. "Please let me show you how deeply grateful I am."

The End

Elvish translation:
pen iaur: old one
pen neth: young one
muindor: brother
lamb vaen: clever tongue
gilith tithen: little heaven