1. Conception Day Gifts
Wearily, Elrohir pushed open the door to his room, then closed it behind him. Dumping his pack on the floor, he crossed to the bathing room, dripping muddy water on the floor as he went.
He and Elladan had just returned from a two-week long patrol around the borders and outlying lands surrounding Imladris, during some of the coldest, foulest, wettest spring weather he could recall. The torrential rain that had soaked him to the skin had somehow completely failed to remove the mud that splattered him liberally from head to toe. They had taken the time to make a rather brief report to Elrond, and greet Celebrían and Arwen – carefully – before heading to their rooms to bathe, eat, and fall into an exhausted sleep. He was at least grateful that despite the delays they had encountered, he and his brother had arrived home in time for their conception anniversary the next day; a special day; when they celebrated their first millennia. He was bitterly disappointed though, that one who he had hoped desperately would be here had apparently not arrived. Be reasonable, he chided himself. Only a fool would travel in this weather. Do you want him caught in a mudslide, or worse? Stop being so selfish.
The lure of clean, fresh water; warm and fragrant, beckoned to him, and he blessed whoever had seen their approach and drawn the bath for him. Stripping off his sodden, filthy clothes he dropped them into a heap on the stone floor and stepped into the deep water. It was hot, but not too hot – perfect for driving out the damp chill that seemed to have penetrated bone-deep in the last two weeks, and easing the stiffness of his wrenched shoulder. He relaxed mindlessly for a few minutes, his thoughts blank, then submerged completely, soaking the dirt from his hair.
By the time he finally felt totally clean, the water was cooling, and he decided reluctantly that it was time to move. Reaching out one hand, he realised belatedly that there was no towel within reach, and cursed his lack of foresight.
“Is this what you are looking for?” an amused voice asked lightly.
Startled, Elrohir sat up, turning to the door. He was amazed that someone had been able to enter without him being aware of it – he must be even more tired than he realised. Then he smiled with delight – his unexpected visitor was one of only a handful who could approach him unawares like this. “Legolas!” he exclaimed in joy.
Legolas stood only feet away, holding the elusive towel at arm’s length. Elrohir stood, water cascading from his body, and stepped out, reaching for the towel. Instead of passing it over, Legolas threw it aside and enveloped Elrohir in his own embrace.
“I will get you wet,” Elrohir protested half-heartedly. He made no attempt to move though, and returned the embrace with a sigh of pleasure, content for the moment as they simply held one another. At length he drew reluctantly away, giving Legolas a light kiss, and picked up the discarded towel. “When did you get here?” he asked, as he wrapped the towel around himself and wrung water from his hair. “I feared you would not make it in time.”
Legolas smiled. “The day before yesterday. I asked your father not to say anything when you saw him – I wanted to surprise you.”
“You certainly did. A most pleasant surprise, I might add.” He kissed Legolas again, lingeringly. “It is wonderful to see you again – I missed you,” he murmured. As they emerged from the bathing room, he saw with further surprise that a table had been placed before the fire, set with plates and glasses, heated platters, and a decanter holding a deep red wine. “Did you do all this?” he asked.
“I did indeed. I asked Erestor if we could have our meal here – I thought you may not want to go down to the main hall tonight.” Legolas looked rather smug.
Elrohir smiled appreciatively. “You thought right.” He dried off, and dressed in a loose black robe with threads of silver embroidery. Sitting at the table, he began to investigate the various platters, and sniffed at the decanter. “Dorwinion?” He glanced at Legolas, one eyebrow raised in surprise.
“Dorwinion,” Legolas agreed. “My father’s conception day gift to you both. It is a special occasion, after all.”
Elrohir’s face fell. “We should share it with Elladan, then,” he pointed out a little reluctantly. Although the three of them often ate together when Legolas visited Imladris, tonight he did not want to share Legolas with anyone, not after their long separation.
Legolas laughed. “As fond as I am of your brother, I would rather spend the evening with just the two of us. There is another bottle for Elladan in my pack.” He poured two deep goblets, and raised his own to Elrohir. “To us,” he said simply. “Ten years is a long time. I missed you, too.” They drank, and began to talk of all they had done in that time, renewing their friendship as much as their bond. An hour passed swiftly, before they recalled the specially-prepared meal, fortunately still warm on the heated platters.
They ate, savouring the delicacy and variety of dishes. Elrohir, after two weeks of trail rations, was particularly hungry. He and Elladan tended to take it in turns to cook their evening meal when on patrol, and both did it well, but game had been scarce, and the hunting slim. Also, they never took wine with them, relying on water alone, and the Dorwinion was a very welcome treat. “Your father gave you two bottles? He must be mellowing,” Elrohir commented. “I thought he did not altogether approve of our relationship?”
Legolas shrugged. “It is true he would be happier if my heart had been given to your sister,” he admitted. “He would be planning the wedding even now! But he likes you well enough, you know that. He accepts our bond.” He sighed. “He regrets that I will never have elflings – he would have made a wonderful daeradar.” He glanced down at his plate. “It is my only regret, too.”
Elrohir took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know,” he said tenderly. “It is easier for me; Elladan and Arwen will both eventually have children, so my parents will have their grandelflings; and I can share in them, as you can. It must be hard for Thranduil.”
His hand was suddenly gripped tightly between both of Legolas’s. “I would not change anything,” he said vehemently. “You know that. You know how I love you, Elrohir. Let me show you again.”
Elrohir nodded, his throat dry. This was what he had missed. Legolas’s passion, as much as his companionship. Quickly, they stacked the plates and dishes onto trays, placing them outside the door for collection. “We will not be disturbed now,” Elrohir murmured, as he shut the door firmly. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
“This.” Legolas pushed him down onto the bed, kneeling over him and pushing the robe aside. “My conception day gift to you.” He kissed Elrohir, gently at first, then with increasing passion. Elrohir stopped him briefly, unfastening the laces of his breeches and the clasp on his tunic and Legolas stilled momentarily as his tunic was pulled off. Elrohir took the opportunity to run his hands lightly over Legolas’s chest, but Legolas shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured. He slid his breeches down, and kicked them off into a corner. They were now both unencumbered by clothing, and Elrohir found Legolas’s merest touch enticing, as his hand slid across Elrohir’s cheek, along his neck and round to cup the back of his head.
Elrohir shuddered as his lover’s fingers brushed against the tip of his ear. “More,” he whispered. He felt Legolas’s other hand drifting downward, across his chest, circling both nipples, down across his stomach, to his hip, then lower still to his legs. Legolas caressed the sensitive spot at the back of his knee, then drew his hand higher, along the skin of his inner thigh, using gentle, butterfly-light touches that inflamed Elrohir.
Elrohir gave a low moan, but when he tried again to return the caresses, Legolas gently moved his hand away once more. “No touching. This is my gift, remember,” he whispered. Moving his head, Legolas began to use his considerable skill, his mouth, his lips, tongue and teeth, biting, nipping, sucking, licking and kissing every inch of exposed flesh. His hands, too roamed everywhere, ranging from gentle caresses and feathery touches to a sharp pinching that was exquisite torture. They had been lovers for a long time, and knew exactly what enflamed and aroused one another.
Initially, Elrohir found it frustrating that he was not permitted to participate more actively, but before long he was helpless to do more than moan and gasp beneath the relentless onslaught. There was only one part of him that was not limp with passion and longing – his arousal was almost painfully hard, and was the one part Legolas had omitted from his loving exploration.
Finally, their mouths joined again, and this time Legolas heeded his lover’s desperate pleading. His hand gripped Elrohir’s arousal at last, his thumb brushing again the tip, and he began to stroke firmly. It took only seconds. With a harsh cry, stifled by Legolas’s hard mouth, Elrohir came, a convulsive shudder shaking his body from head to toe. He grasped Legolas to him tightly, returning the kiss passionately until at last he fell back against the bed, utterly spent.
Legolas moved to lay beside him, propped on one elbow, watching him with immense satisfaction. “Thank you,” the blond prince murmured.
Surprised, Elrohir turned his head. “Why are you thanking me?” he asked, when he had regained enough breath to speak. “I think it should be the other way around. That was – amazing.”
“Because I love to do that to you,” Legolas explained simply. “I love knowing that no one else has that effect on you, and never will.”
“No. No one else,” Elrohir agreed softly. “Only you.” He thought fleetingly, with gratitude, of the only other lover he had ever known. A visiting scholar from Mithlond had taken his virginity – not in the least against his will, to be sure. Ardamin had been both very skilled and very gentle, and had taught Elrohir that something he had always feared would be sordid and rather painful could be a thing of beauty and passion. He smiled suddenly, as an evil thought struck him. “You said something about this being a conception day gift? Does that mean you intend to give my brother the same gift again?”
There was a snort beside him. “No. Absolutely not.” Legolas continued to gaze at Elrohir, rather reflectively. “It is odd,” he mused. “You have the same faces, the same bodies. I have seen Elladan naked often enough when we have swum or bathed together – yet I have never felt the slightest flicker of desire for him. You, on the other hand …” He shrugged. “It is odd that you are so similar, yet so different.” He turned, laying now with his back to Elrohir, pressing close.
As Elrohir held Legolas against himself, his hands traced lazy circles on his chest, brushing gently over the soft skin. Pushing the golden hair aside, he placed a trail of kisses down the back of his neck and along his shoulder as Legolas gave a soft sigh. He realised belatedly that although he himself had found release, Legolas was still hard. One hand moved down to caress the thick shaft, and Legolas’s breath quavered slightly. Between kisses, and running his tongue across the sensitive spot below his lover’s ear – a place he recalled had always given Legolas intense pleasure – he whispered tender words. “What, my love, would you have me do? You brought me to such ecstasy – how shall I please you? Tell me what you desire.”
Legolas did not respond immediately, and Elrohir maintained his gentle caresses. “Hmm? Tell me. What would give you greatest pleasure now?”
There was a soft laugh. “If you still can – if I have not exhausted you – I would like you to make love to me. Like this. I love to feel you so close. Of course, if you are too tired …” his voice fell away suggestively.
“I am not that tired!” Elrohir retorted firmly. “Wait here a moment.” He rose from the bed, and rummaged in his pack, still where he had dropped it by the door. From the healing kit he extracted a small jar, nearly full with a pale-coloured cream. Unscrewing the top, he took a little on his fingers, and began to gently massage Legolas’s shoulders and back, moving fractionally lower with each broad sweep of his hands. As his fingers kneaded, he felt Legolas relax completely against him, and smiled. His love had always found this intensely arousing. One hand now went lower still, a slick finger probing at the hidden entrance. The massage had worked its usual magic, and his finger slid easily inside. He maintained the soothing massage, interspersing his touch with kisses, and slid another finger inside. Legolas gave a low murmur of protest at the slow pace Elrohir was setting, but he ignored it. He intended to do this at a leisurely rate, to prolong the pleasure for both of them. After so long apart, there was no hurry – and they had all night. Elrohir knew, too, that after the devastating climax Legolas had bestowed on him, he would need to time to recover. Legolas’s teasing comment about having exhausted him was not far off the mark.
At last he relented and carefully withdrew his fingers, moving a little closer. Slicking his shaft with a little more of the herb-scented cream, he pushed inside very, very slowly. He had to stop after a moment, taking a deep breath to maintain control over the exquisite sensations racing through him. Legolas wrecked that control. “By the Valar, Elrohir, do not torture me so!” he moaned, and pushed back firmly, forcing Elrohir deeply into him. Their gasps were perfectly synchronised, and Legolas twisted his head round to kiss him again.
Elrohir managed to maintain the slow, languid pace, thrusting gently in an easy rocking motion he knew he could maintain for some time. Wave upon wave of sensual pleasure began to build up in slow, gradual ripples, rising ever higher, and Elrohir began to stroke Legolas’s arousal again. He tightened the arm still wrapped around his lover, pulling him even closer, feeling his breathing quicken. They were both close to the edge now, and suddenly Legolas arched backwards, his head against Elrohir’s shoulder, moaning incoherently. With a final deep thrust, they came together, as the waves of passion crested and broke. Elrohir leaned forward to lap again at the hollow just below Legolas’s ear and blew gently, smiling as his entire body trembled and jerked again.
Still shuddering with the aftershocks, still joined, they lay together, sated, as breathing and heart-rates slowly returned to normal. At last, with a soft sigh, Elrohir moved, withdrawing gently. Legolas turned, still within the circle of his arms, and with a final loving kiss they drifted into dreams
Legolas awoke the next morning as the early sun shone in on him. The foul weather of the previous weeks had finally cleared, and the air at last had the soft warmth of spring. He thought back to the previous night with satisfaction – he and Elrohir had more than made up for the long separation they had endured. He turned to gaze again on Elrohir. At some point in the night they had moved apart, and Elrohir now lay on his front, his eyes still glazed and vacant in sleep. One foot hung over the side of the bed, and Legolas was tempted to brush his finger across the bare sole, knowing it to be a ticklish spot. He resisted, instead moving silently from the bed to draw a bath, washing away the stickiness that still coated his stomach and thighs, removing all evidence of the night’s activities.
When he returned, Elrohir was still asleep. This time, Legolas gave in to the temptation and stroked the bare foot lightly, smiling as it twitched. Then he frowned. Elrohir’s right shoulder was marked with dark, widespread bruises and grazing. He sat at his side, gently running his fingers over the ugly marks in concern. Elrohir stirred beneath his touch, and turned his head to smile at Legolas. “Good morning,” he murmured.
“Good morning,” Legolas returned. He leaned down to kiss Elrohir, first on the mouth, then on his injured shoulder. “And happy begetting day. Elrohir, what have you done to your shoulder? It looks badly bruised.” He touched it lightly again, tracing the sharp outline of bone.
Elrohir rolled over and sat up, flexing his shoulder carefully. “It is nothing. A fall, coming down a steep path a few days ago. El has been rubbing in some of that salve to ease it, so I could still use my sword.” Then he groaned, falling back onto the bed, his eyes closed. “Oh, no. Elladan!” He sounded frustrated, and sighed. “Poor Elladan.”
“Why ‘poor Elladan’?” Legolas asked curiously.
Elrohir opened one eye. “You know how close we are. How we can tell if the other is troubled, or injured.” As Legolas nodded, Elrohir continued: “Well, that closeness extends to other things, too. Like sensing pain – or strong emotions …”
“Ah. Oh. Yes, ‘poor Elladan’ indeed. That could be awkward.”
“Poor El. I should have shielded him – I can keep my thoughts to myself when I try, but I have to think about it,” Elrohir explained. “Last night, I was not thinking at all,” he confessed.
Legolas again began to rub Elrohir’s shoulder, massaging in the cream they had used before, kneading the tense muscles to relax them. Elrohir sighed. “That feels better,” he murmured. “It was getting rather stiff again.” He rolled over, and gave a wicked grin of appreciation. “My shoulder is not the only thing, I see!”
Legolas flushed a little. The pleasure of running his hands over Elrohir’s smooth skin, watching him writhe as a particularly tense spot was eased, feeling the firm muscles; together with the heady scent of the cream, had all had an unintentional result. He was achingly hard again.
Elrohir drew Legolas closer. “Come here,” he said simply, drawing his knees up. “Now.” He rolled across the bed, pulling Legolas with him, until they were facing in opposite directions. Legolas gasped as he felt Elrohir’s mouth engulf his erection, lips and tongue swirling around the tip, then swallowing him deeply. He matched the motions at first, then delved lower, his tongue probing gently at the tight entrance. Elrohir stiffened in his embrace, uttering a low moan, and Legolas probed more deeply, feeling the tense muscles relax and give way to him. Elrohir’s groan deepened, sending delicious ripples through his erection, and the steady motion of Elrohir’s mouth faltered. “Enough. Come here,” he repeated in a whisper.
With a smooth, practised movement, Legolas twisted around until he knelt over Elrohir. Taking the jar of cream in a hand that shook slightly, he smeared a little on them both and thrust in deeply in one smooth stroke. There had been minimal preparation, and he searched Elrohir’s face for any signs of discomfort – but his sigh of pleasure dismissed any concerns. He withdrew almost completely, then thrust back again, hard.
Their coupling this time was fast and fierce, totally unlike the slow, sensual love-making of the night before. There was no slow build-up of passion, but a rapid escalation of pure ecstasy. Elrohir’s hands and mouth ranged everywhere he could reach, pinching and biting, driving Legolas to his peak almost immediately. He tried desperately to hold back, but Elrohir’s ministrations made it impossible. A hard, biting kiss on one nipple was his undoing, and he felt Elrohir’s legs twine about his, pulling him even closer as he came, driving deeply and spilling himself with a cry that was nearly a sob. Still racked with shudders, he licked at the tip of Elrohir’s ear, grazing it with his teeth, knowing exactly what to do to provoke orgasm. He nipped again as Elrohir cried out, and felt the sudden splash of warmth between their stomachs and the hard, clenching spasms that caressed his shaft, driving him to an unprecedented second peak.
They lay together, arms and legs entwined, panting and drenched in sweat. Legolas knew he had to move, to wash and dress, ready to greet the world again, but he was deeply reluctant to release Elrohir from his embrace. At last he lifted his head a little. “Did you manage to prevent Elladan sensing that?” he asked.
Elrohir nodded tiredly. “Yes, but there was little point. He will have heard – you were rather loud, my love.” He chuckled.
“You were not exactly quiet yourself,” Legolas pointed out. “I thought we were normally more discreet – I hope no-one else was within earshot. It could be rather embarrassing.”
“El and I have this corridor to ourselves, fortunately.” Elrohir unwrapped himself reluctantly. “I have to get up. We have to get up. I need to bath – again – and we will be expected to take breakfast with my parents this morning.”
Legolas was nearly dressed when there was a tap on the door that led to the sitting room the twins shared. Elladan opened it and peered in. “Is it safe to come in?” he asked with a grin.
Elrohir appeared from the bathing room, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Good morning, El. Happy begetting day!”
“And to you, little brother.” The twins hugged one another, then Elladan turned to greet Legolas. “Welcome, my friend. I heard you had come.”
“Yes, I arrived two days ago –” Legolas began. He broke off when Elrohir cuffed his brother gently.
“Behave yourself, brother!” he admonished. “There was no need for that!”
Belatedly, Legolas caught the hidden meaning of Elladan’s words, and saw his smug grin. He blushed. Elladan had accepted the changed relationship between his twin and his closest friend with delight, but was not above a little gentle teasing at their expense at times. “Did we disturb you?”
Elladan grinned again. “Only three times. Do not worry – father warned me you were here. I took a large goblet of wine to bed with me last night. It helped.”
“That reminds me.” Legolas delved into his pack, finding the second flask of Dorwinion from his father. He presented it to Elladan.
“Happy conception day, my friends.”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.