45. Chapter 43
A golden head appeared from within the dark hood and a sword point aimed to kill. A beautiful, if devilish, smile graced a handsome face and green eyes sparked with age-old wisdom and mischief.
"So, tell me, *meldir (m. friend)*, what business do you have behind the stables here?"
"I, uh…well…that is…"
"Come now, penneth (young one); spit it out."
The elf kicked at the dirt, uncertain how to answer. Casting a nervous glance about the area, he stammered, "I, umm, I am waiting for someone."
"Ah, I see. Well then I regret to inform you that your companion will not be arriving. I would strongly recommend that you just turn yourself around and find something less…sinister…to occupy your time." The blond flicked his sword towards the path leading away from the main house. Not daring to hesitate, the elf scampered off into the darkness.
Gildor smirked. How that elf was ever able to nab Maglor, a warrior by nature, was beyond him. Obviously Legolas was not thinking clearly…or more likely, at all. He smiled thinking of the surprising visit he had received earlier and the promise love everlasting.
Legolas took extra care with his preparations. Everything was set. All that was left was to instruct his associate on when to make his move. Lindir would be his before the end of the night. Once he convinced his friend that Maglor had left; the sweet minstrel would need consoling and Legolas would be right there for him. Yes, this plan was perfect.
"You dishonor your kin with this deception, little prince."
Legolas spun, knife drawn. "Who dares enter my room and insult me so?" He growled at a shadow in the corner.
The shadow glided into the light. The Mirkwood Prince gasped. Before him stood the most beautiful elf he had ever dreamed of. Tall and lean with hair like pitch and fathomless eyes. The elf had an unearthly air about him and his clothing was that of a noble. This was definitely no ordinary elf.
"What do you want?" he asked the stranger, lifting his chin is defiance. The so-called elf came to stand before Legolas. The first thing the young prince noticed was a chill that permeated the air around the elf. Next he noticed the clasp holding a dark cloak in place. He had seen it before…in a book maybe. It was a beautifully crafted piece. The waning and waxing crescent moons were carved from polished onyx. The crescent points faced out and set in the center of the moons' junction was the largest black star sapphire the prince had ever seen!
"Do I know you?"
The elegant vision before him gave a lopsided grin. "No, but I know your grandfather and your mother. More importantly, I know who you are and what you plan."
"I know not of what you speak," Legolas said with a confidence he did not feel.
"Do not lie, penneth. It is an unwise decision. Also, never meddle in those things the Valar have set in motion by the will of Ilúvatar."
Legolas paled. Now he remembered were he had seen the emblem before. It was in a history lesson covering the War of Wrath. He had memorized the emblem on the standard of each Valar. A chill ran down his spine as he dropped to his knees.
"My Lord Námo," he whispered, head bowed. Terror spread through his whole being. The only time the Doomsman was on Arda, as far as he knew, was to collect a passing fea.
"Lindir is and has always been destined for Maglor. Nothing you can do about it. You only risk your fëa. If you continue on this path, it will lead to your demise. Be happy for your friend and the love he has found." The Doomsman stood to his full height and looked down at the trembling elf.
Tears dripped down the pale cheeks as Legolas kept his head bowed. It was as if a veil had been lifted and he could see the malice in his recent actions. He really did not want to cause Lindir pain. The truth was he was jealous of the love between the minstrels. The Sinda wanted to know a love like that, too. A love like he believed his father and mother shared. Ever since a spider killed the Queen when he was only 23 turns of the seasons, darkness had crept into his soul. When all the ladies of the court fawned over his father…trying to offer 'comfort', the small prince could not stand it. They just wanted to be in his bed! They did not love Thranduil, nor he them because he loved the Queen. Legolas did all he could to drive the ellyn (f. elves) away. Soon, the offers stopped; fearful of the wicked elfling who protected his Adar like a mother warg. No one dared to approach the king and a melancholy fell over the king. Legolas was too wrapped up in his own misery to see what was happening to his father. When Elrond finally made his feelings know, the Sinda king was overjoyed but Legolas' hated grew. As he got older, he twisted the whole situation to the point where he truly believed that his father used Elrond to warm his bed and he had no deeper feelings for the half-elf. Thranduil loved his wife, they were soul-mates; Legolas was certain of that…if only he had taken the time to talk with his father or if he had been a bit older, perhaps he would have seen the truth. There had been love, but no bonding of fear.
Námo gently lifted the prince's chin. "Do not weep, little one. There is a love for you, I promise. Return to that beautiful child your mother loved so much, accept your father and the love he has for Elrond…for they are soul mates. Understand that your mother is at peace and when her time comes, she too will be bonded. There is no hope for love if you continue as you are. However, it is not too late. "One will be sent to teach you what it truly means to be a prince and more importantly, a good elf." Námo smiled reassuringly. Cocking his head slightly, the Vala reached out and stroked the golden head. "You were a happy child with an enormous heart."
"How…how will I know this elf?"
Námo winked and began to fade into the shadows. "He will be there tonight." The Vala vanished and Legolas cried as he had not since his mother passed.
Elladan knocked on Rúmil's door twice before trying the handle. Entering the chamber, he heard splashing from the bathroom. The image that flashed through his mind made him hard. He wanted to join his lover, but he had already gone through the painstaking chore of braiding his hair. He had no desire to have to redo them. Instead, he sat down in a chair, facing the washroom door. Elladan waited silently.
Sometime later, Rúmil emerged with only a towel for covering. "You really should lock the door before bathing," the twin said. The archer spun around, dropping his towel in his shock. Elladan groaned at the sight before him. Small water drops ran over the sculpted muscles, shimmering like little diamonds. The dark haired elf's leggings got uncomfortably tight and when Rúmil bent to pick up the towel, Elladan thought he would spend himself right then.
Rúmil did not miss the effect he was having on the older elf. Getting a wicked idea, the Silvan elf tossed the towel onto the bed and headed for his wardrobe. He opened it without a word and removed the garments for the evening. He laid them on the bed and made no move to dress. Instead he moved to the vanity, sat before the mirror and began to comb through his hair.
Elladan moaned as he watched lean muscle move beneath the creamy skin. His member throbbed. The twin leaned back and stretched out his legs, hoping to alleviate some of this discomfort. It did not help. Rúmil took his time combing through his silver tresses, listening intently to the nearly silent sounds coming from his lover. Elladan's breathing was shallow and small moans and sighs slipped from his lips. It took all of Rúmil's control to not become aroused. It was not time yet.
Getting up, he paraded across the room to retrieve a glass of water, he took slow deliberate sips, always making sure that Elladan had a good view. Setting the glass down, he stretched and returned to the vanity to braid his hair. He never spoke or looked at his lover. He did not need to.
Elladan watched with growing arousal. His hand slid over the bulge, massaging it as he watched the erotic sight before him. When that was no longer enough, he pushed aside the layers of fabric and unlaced his leggings. There was some relief when his shaft sprang free of the confines but it was short lived. Rúmil, with a mischievous smile dropped one of his hair ties and had to bend over to retrieve it.
"Oh gods, Rúmil," whispered Elladan, once again presented with twin globes just begging to be caressed and licked. Rúmil continued to ignore his guest. As much as the Imladian elf wanted to touch the vision before him, he found himself unable to move, captivated as he was. Reaching for his member, Elladan began to stroke himself. Gods, he wanted Rúmil to be doing this to him, he wanted Rúmil's hot mouth to devour him. His movements sped up and he began to thrust into his own hand. With a cry of completion he thrust one last time before sliding boneless to the floor. Rúmil turned to see his spent lover and heat pooled in his groin. Elladan lay there resting his back against the chair, panting, covered in his own seed. The two locked eyes and with cat like movements, Rúmil approached.
"That will teach you to enter uninvited," the silver haired elf said, standing astride Elladan's out stretched legs. Elladan looked up at the satisfied smirk gracing Rúmil's face. With a grin of his own, he leaned forward and licked up the inside of the guardian's thigh. Before Rúmil could move, he found himself trapped by two strong hands on his arse and an erotic tongue licking the junction between thigh and groin. The younger elf felt his shaft grow as a wicked tongue lapped at the soft sacks beneath it. Rúmil's hands began stroking the ebony head between his legs. His head was thrown back and moans of pleasure tumbled from his lips. Carefully sliding between the mounds of flesh, Elladan's finger began to circle and tease the puckered opening.
Rúmil spread his legs farther apart. Leaning over his lover, he braced his hand on the chair's arms. This allowed his lover to suck his now weeping member into his mouth. The silver haired elf gripped the arms and panted as his body was ministered to. He felt a finger slide in and out of his tight passage. The mouth which engulfed him moved at the same slow rated making the young elf begin to whimper. When two fingers entered him, he thrust back. While this took care of the yearning to be full, it added much of his need to his lover's mouth. Rúmil groaned in frustration until his knees nearly buckled. Elladan had brushed that special spot within his channel and white-hot sparks traveled through his body.
Letting the velvet shaft slip from his lips, Elladan looked up into the lust filled gaze of his lover. "Like that, do you?" He thrust a third finger in, now touching the bundle of nerves with each thrust. "Tell me. Do you like this?" he demanded.
Rúmil panted, "Oh, Elladan! Aye, yes…yes I like it."
"Would you like me to taste you?" the twin asked in a husky voice.
"Aye, I beg you, please." Rúmil looked down at his lover. "Devour me, melethron (m. lover). Taste what I give."
The dark head returned to the bobbing length before him. He teased and licked and nipped until finally taking it wholly into his mouth. Elladan began to move his head back and forth, mimicking the thrusting of his fingers. He felt the delectable body tense before swallowing the seed that shot down this throat. One last thrust of his fingers and he withdrew them. Exhausted and spent, Rúmil dropped to his knees and felt loving arms hold him tight. Never had he dreamed of something so exciting or erotic. He rested his head in the crook of Elladan's neck and sighed.
"That will teach you to strut before me in a state of undress." Elladan said. A moment late, his chuckling broke the silence.
"What is so amusing, my dark one?" Rúmil asked.
Pulling back and lifting Rúmil's chin to make eye contact, Elladan explained, "I feared for my braids, but they seem to have survived this ordeal…unlike my clothing. I guess I will have to return to my rooms and change." The lovers laughed and Rúmil bestowed a kiss filled with all the love he had to give on his dark lover.
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.