Imladris 2151 III
Thranduil wandered aimlessly through the lush greenery of a well-ordered garden, his thoughts restless and disturbing. For nigh a moon the woodland king had tarried in Imladris, enjoying Elrond's hospitality as well as the more intimate comforts offered by Glorfindel and Erestor. The day of his return to Mirkwood rapidly approached, and the imminent parting form his friends-turned-lovers preyed on his mind.
Though he longed to see his family and home once more, Thranduil was loath to surrender the warmth and comfort he had found in Imladris - and his guilt at being so torn became more pronounced with each passing day. 'Have I betrayed her, after all?' he mused, his heart heavy with doubt. 'Should I not be eager to return to our children, our realm? Instead I dread the emptiness of my own bed. I do not wish to face again the loneliness of these last years.'
"What troubles you so, Thranduil?" a soft voice queried. "There is oft relief to be had in the telling of fears."
Startled, the woodland king turned to find Celebrían studying him kindly. "Hirilen," Thranduil replied, inclining his head in greeting. "I did not hear your approach."
"'Tis no wonder," the Lady of Imladris answered, a slight smile curving her lips. "You were deep in your thoughts. Will you not share them?"
The woodland king was silent for a long moment, his desire to voice his concerns warring with his fear of impropriety.
This morn Celebrían appeared less a ruler's wife than a wood nymph, fragile and elusive. She was dressed in a simple white gown, her shimmering silver hair braided in the manner preferred by her sons, the single heavy plait falling nearly to her knees. The daughter of Galadriel might have been a young maiden were it not for the wisdom and compassion that lit her warm grey eyes.
"I am not sure 'twould be appropriate, though I thank you..."
Celebrían shook her head, laying one delicate hand on her companion's arm. "I am rarely shocked, híren, and even less often offended." Her smile widening, she added, "And I am my Naneth's daughter. 'Twill be easiest if you simply concede now."
Chuckling in spite of himself, Thranduil offered his arm to his hostess. "Indeed. I long ago acknowledged the futility of refusing Galadriel anything she sought."
"Then I insist that you extend me the same courtesy, mellonen," Celebrían said firmly. "I would not have you leave us guilt-ridden, nor filled with doubt. Tell me what troubles you."
Reassured by the warmth and understanding in the questioning grey gaze, the woodland king did as he was bid. All the fears and doubt that had plagued him since the beginning of his changed relationship with Glorfindel and Erestor came tumbling out. His confusion over his place in their lives, and their place in his. The guilt spawned by his reluctance to return to Mirkwood alone, despite his yearning to see his children and his subjects. And worst of all, the suffocating fear that he had betrayed his queen, his bond, by allowing himself to seek more than physical release with another.
Meeting the troubled emerald eyes, Celebrían did not respond immediately. Instead she indicated a grove of silver-clad trees. "Let us explore the hillside garden, híren," she suggested. "The gwanûn tell me it was particularly favored by Legolas during his visit."
Thranduil approached the massive trunks appreciatively, reaching out to touch the silvery-white bark. "Aye, I can well understand my son's love for this place. There is a serenity here that has been absent from Taur-na-Fuin for many years."
"Have you told Erestor and Glorfindel of your worries?" Celebrían asked after a moment's silence. "Surely you do not doubt that they care for you deeply."
"Nay, I do not question their affection for me," the woodland king replied. "Only the expectations that might accompany that regard." With a wry smile, he continued. "Having abused my eternal bond by feeling more than passing lust for another, I am faced with yet a second quandary. Do I now owe fidelity to Glorfindel and Erestor as well? Have I any cause to expect such from them?"
His companion smiled kindly. "I would say that you owe only that which you wish to give. Do not turn a blessing into a burden, mellonen. But I will not speak for the living. Ask them."
"I will not speak for the living," Celebrían repeated, squeezing the king's arm reassuringly, "but I will venture to speak for the waiting. Miluien will understand."
Thranduil's eyes filled with unexpected tears. "No one speaks her name to me," he said hoarsely, his throat suddenly tight. "The children speak of 'Nana', my advisors praise 'the queen', but none mention my Miluien. It is as though 'tis forgotten that she was more than a naneth, more than her title." His voice breaking, the king added, "And I fear the day when her face and voice and touch fade from my mind, as well. I would not replace her love with another."
"Ai, Thranduil," Celebrían sighed, turning to face the distressed ruler. "Love is not finite, and every love is different. One need not replace another."
Settling comfortably on an enormous stump, she pulled at her companion's hand, urging him down. "Must Elladan and Elrohir love one another less because they have grown to love Legolas, also?"
"Nay," the king replied, his fingers tracing the growth rings of the long-dead tree. "But 'tis hardly the same, hirilen. And 'tis a quite young affair."
"And there is still hope for an ignominious ending?" Celebrían retorted, a hint of laughter in her voice.
Thranduil shook his head. "You know I would not wish it so. 'Twould please me greatly to see our houses joined. But that is for the future."
"Then let us speak for a moment of the past," the Lady of Imladris replied quietly. "Is Elrond's love for Gil-galad diminished by his love for me? Or say you that he loves me less because he loves Ereinion still?"
Discomfited by the directness of the question, Thranduil moved restlessly. "Celebrían, I do not think 'tis..."
"You were there, híren," his companion interrupted calmly. "Was theirs a love that could be diminished by time?"
Memories flooded the king's mind. Campfires flickered as warriors talked, laughed, sang, and loved - the nights alive with the desperate gaiety of those who know themselves doomed. Banners rippled above clashing armies and the air rang with defiant battle cries as well as the screams of the dying. The ground grew slippery with the blood of orcs, elves and men.
And always, always there was the High King and his herald - their heads bent close in jest, their bodies locked together in passion, their raven-dark hair mingling in the wind as they fought side-by-side, back-to-back...unhelmed and unyielding. Until that final dreadful day, when Sauron was laid low at such horrific cost.
"It was not," Thranduil answered reluctantly.
"You need not fear for my feelings," Celebrían said quietly. "Elrond loves me, híren, and I am happy in that knowledge. I cannot replace Gil-galad, as he could not truly replace Elros. That sundering has left a hole in my husband's spirit which no lover can fill."
Her eyes suddenly distant, she added, "And if someday we must part, I would wish Elrond a companion to ease his pain and treasure him as I do."
The woodland king looked at her keenly. "Elrond is fortunate to have found you, hirilen."
"And I to have found him," Celebrían answered gravely. "As you were blessed to win Miluien's love, and the affection of Glorfindel and Erestor. Love need not be diminished because it is shared."
Rising from her seat on the stump, she looked toward the formal gardens and smiled, then reached out a hand in invitation. "Come, mellonen. They are waiting."
Mirkwood 2151
Legolas watched in amusement as his lover - who had survived all manner of battles and foes over his long life - was completely overrun by one young elleth with a hairbrush. "Do not frown so, 'Roh," he snickered. "You make quite a lovely princess."
"Aye, he is very pretty," Galueth agreed happily, completely unaware of her brother's sarcasm. Her small fingers flying, she wove Elrohir's dark hair into the same ornate braids that held her own mahogany tresses.
"You do that very well pen neth," Elladan observed with a smile, fingering the mithril beads that had been peremptorily placed in his hand.
"'Tis ever so much easier on another head," the princess announced seriously, tying off the last of her victim's braids. "I cannot yet plait my own hair, though Amoniel is teaching me."
"Amoniel?" Elrohir repeated, looking at Legolas questioningly.
"Galueth's nanny," the woodland prince explained. "She is a lovely elleth, despite her bizarre liking for Anteruon's company, and has been with us since Nana passed."
"'Ruon is going to bind with her someday," Galueth reported blithely, as she turned a determined gaze on Elladan's beaded braid.
"Indeed?" Legolas, replied, one golden eyebrow arching in surprise. "And how came you by this knowledge, thêl dithen?"
"Please, 'Golas," the princess sighed, before turning her attention to unbinding Elladan's hair. "I have eyes. And ears."
A look of horror beginning to spread across his face, the woodland prince asked, "And precisely *what* have you seen and heard, pen dithen?"
Oblivious to her brother's anxious state, Galueth looked around carefully before bending close to whisper in his ear. "Every night, when he comes to say 'Posto mae', they *kiss*!"
Elladan narrowed his eyes. "Is that not Tiri?" he asked, pointing to a figure on one of the second level balconies.
"It is, indeed," Legolas answered with a grin. "And 'tis Sílolwen behind him. Come and meet her."
"They may not wish for company just yet, 'Las," Elrohir cautioned, as the two forms seemed to meld to one. "He has been gone many moons."
As though in reply to the elf-knight's warning, Tiriadon's voice rang out over the courtyard. "Elladan! Elrohir! Come join us if you have recovered from Galueth's attentions." Grinning at Legolas, he added, "And bring him with you, if you must."
Climbing the curving staircase, the twins found themselves scrutinized by enormous brown eyes, which lit on their bead-studded braids, and suddenly Elladan was caught in an embrace of surprising strength, considering that the giver barely reached his chest.
"Hannon chen," the auburn-haired elleth said gratefully, squeezing him once more for good measure. "Thank you for healing him."
Rendered nearly speechless by the unexpected greeting, the elder twin patted one slender arm tentatively. "You are welcome, my lady. Though I did little, really."
Tiriadon chuckled as his lover returned to his side, one arm twining around his waist. "This, as you may have guessed, is Sílolwen. These are the infamous Peredhil twins, melethen. The healer you have thrown yourself at so shamelessly is the eldest, Elladan. Elrohir is the one looking decidedly cheated."
"'Tis simply your fate, 'Roh," Legolas snickered, grinning as he and the elf-knight were hugged in turn.
"We must not begin our friendship with a slight, híren," Sílolwen said, smiling warmly at the younger twin. "'I am pleased to meet both of you. And I doubt not that your skill saved him many times."
Opening the chamber door, she indicated a table that was visible through the far door. "Will you join us? We have wine and fruit aplenty."
As they followed Sílolwen onto the back balcony, Tiriadon caught Elladan's arm. "All is settled, then?" he asked quietly, meeting the clear grey gaze.
"All is settled," the elder twin agreed with a smile. "And you have shed your tears, captain?"
"I have," Tiriadon answered, his eyes dancing. "Several times."
"Then we are all lucky, indeed."
Names:
Miluien - gentle maiden (Thranduil's queen)
Amoniel - hill maiden (Anteruon's lover)
Sílolwen - shining maiden (Tiriadon's lover)
Elvish Translations:
hirilen - my lady
híren - my lord
Naneth/Nana - Mother, Mama/Mom
mellonen - my friend
gwanûn - twins
Taur-na-Fuin - Mirkwood
Ai - Oh
elleth - female elf
pen neth - young one
thêl dithen - little sister
pen dithen - little one
Posto mae - Sleep/rest well
Hannon chen - Thank you
melethen - my love
Imladris 2151 III
Thranduil settled into the comfortable garden chair, sipping thoughtfully at a goblet of fruited wine. "This is quite good, mellynen," he said, smiling at his companions.
"'Tis refreshing in the summer's heat," Erestor agreed, adeptly rescuing a strawberry from his glass and popping it in his mouth.
"Though 'Restor finds as much enjoyment in the fruit as in the wine," Glorfindel chuckled as his mate carefully retrieved another berry. His expression becoming serious, he caught Thranduil's emerald gaze. "Are you ready yet to share your worries?"
The woodland king drew a deep breath and nodded. "Aye, I am. Though the Lady Celebrían has done much to ease my mind."
Erestor nodded, looking intently at his new lover. "Our Lady is very wise, meldir. She sees much that is hidden to others."
"She does, indeed," Thranduil replied with a sigh. "She has helped me unburden myself of much guilt and confusion, and for that I am more grateful than I can say." Meeting his companions' eyes levelly, he went on, "But she will not speak for the living."
"A good thing, all in all," Glorfindel broke in mildly. "Come, melethron. What troubles you so?"
"I would know what is expected of me," the woodland king said bluntly. "I feel as though I have been made alive again by your affection, by your loving. I would do nothing to jeopardize what we have built during my stay here."
Erestor leaned forward to grasp Thranduil's hand. "What we share with you is freely given, melethen. Nothing is expected of you, save to be truthful regarding you wants and fears."
The woodland ruler opened his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by a shake of Glorfindel's head. "We understand your question, mellonen. You are free to do as you please. We will take no other in your place, but we do not ask that you remain chaste during the long months we will be apart."
Folding his hand around the others, Glorfindel smiled. "Follow your heart, Thranduil. It will not lead you astray."
Mirkwood 2151 III
A gentle breeze danced through the open balcony door, cooling the bedchamber, which was awash in the light of the full moon. Muffled murmurs and gasps rose from the rumpled bed, and Elrohir sighed with pleasure, stretching his neck invitingly as sharp teeth and warm lips marked his skin. "Mmm, yes," he breathed, "That is nice."
And then he felt it. Again. The faint echo of melancholy - the solemnity that had become a persistent part of their lovemaking, as well as the bane of his existence.
Looking at Legolas intently, the elf-knight saw that the emerald-dark eyes were once again mithril-rimmed, sparkling with unshed tears. Turning to his brother, he noted that Elladan's darkened grey gaze also glimmered in the soft light.
Elrohir rose abruptly, turning his back on his astonished lovers.
"What are you doing, 'Roh?" Legolas asked, his confusion apparent. "Where are you going?"
Elladan sat up slowly but remained silent, sensing his twin's surging irritation.
The elf-knight closed his eyes, fingers burrowing through his own tousled hair. With what seemed a heroic effort, he kept his voice nearly free of exasperation.
"'Tis supposed to be enjoyable, you know," he said mildly, his back still to the others. "Else there is truly no point, as we are unlikely to produce any contribution to the next generation."
"Your sarcasm is unwarranted, tôren," Elladan replied quietly, silencing Legolas with a look.
"Is it?" Elrohir demanded, his calm facade slipping dangerously as he moved to face his twin. "You call it settled, 'Dan. Over and done. And yet we cannot come together without surreptitiously wiped tears and mournful sighs. From the both of you."
"They are tears of relief, rohir nín, not tears of sorrow," Legolas said, ignoring the warning touch of Elladan's hand. "Would you not have us treasure what has been restored?"
"I would have less weeping and more rutting in my bed," Elrohir snapped, turning a frosty glare on the woodland prince. Legolas winced at the stinging retort, and the elf-knight's voice softened, becoming almost wistful. "I would have things as they were before."
Come here, then, tôr dithen.
The seductive drawl curled through Elrohir's mind, answered by a flare of heat in his groin. The ghost of a frown flitted across his face as he turned to meet his brother's glittering gaze.
Not that long before, 'Dan.
One ebony eyebrow arched in disbelief and Elladan opened his mind, the corners of his mouth curling in a predatory smile as Elrohir swallowed heavily, his eyes wide and dark.
The elf-knight gasped as his thoughts were flooded with an erotic mix of images and words that left no doubt as to Elladan's intent.
Legolas watched raptly, his own heart pounding in the near palpable tension of the silent chamber. Watched as Elladan's chin rose imperiously, the obsidian silk of his hair sliding over hard muscle and soft pillows. Watched as Elrohir moved to stand before his brother, their midnight dark gazes meeting a mere heartbeat before Elladan reached for the lacings of the elf-knight's rough-woven sleep pants.
I want to taste you.
Elrohir shivered as the shared thought brushed his mind, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. Cool air caressed heated skin as his loose breeches fell open under Elladan's impatient fingers, revealing a shaft already thick and heavy with blood.
Elladan pushed the thin fabric to the floor and pressed his face to the elf-knight's groin, inhaling the familiar musky scent with a sigh of pleasure.
'Tis finer than any incense or oil ever made, melethen.
A moan escaped Elrohir as his lover's breath moved over sensitive skin, and he reached for the arched branches that formed the bed's headboard, seeking support for his trembling body. Soft skin and silken hair teased him as Elladan pressed a line of wet kisses from hip to thigh before lapping at the tender pouch beneath his arousal.
His hips pushing forward of their own accord, the elf-knight dropped one hand to his brother's head, his fingers twining in the glossy ebony strands. "Please, 'Dan..." he breathed. "Please."
Legolas' swallowed hard, his stomach tightening in sympathy as Elladan ignored the whispered plea, continuing to nuzzle and nibble at the now-snug sac. Silvery drops of fluid clung to Elladan's dark hair and smeared one flushed cheek, and the prince was suddenly overcome by the urge to lick away the shimmering trail.
Crawling across the wide bed, Legolas buried his face in the elder twin's hair, lapping at the smoky-sweet dribbles before turning his attention to the tempting smear on Elladan's face.
Elrohir groaned aloud as he watched the golden elf, entranced by the barely visible pink tongue that moved cat-like over his brother's hair and skin before luring Elladan into a lingering kiss.
Pulling away, the woodland prince drew his tongue lightly over Elrohir's hip, tracing the sharp planes of muscle and bone with a line of wet fire. A moment later he threw out a steadying arm, his support keeping the elf-knight upright in the face of Elladan's onslaught.
A wordless howl was ripped from Elrohir as his brother's mouth engulfed him without warning. His legs seemed suddenly useless, and if not for Legolas' arm and Elladan's firm grip on his hips, the elf-knight would surely have fallen.
The golden elf shivered, his own arousal pulsing insistently as he watched the slick column disappear again and again into Elladan's mouth, to be worked expertly by tongue and teeth.
Elrohir's head fell back as he became lost in sensation, the ends of his raven dark hair brushing repeatedly across the gentle swell of his backside. Closing his eyes, he tightened his hold on the headboard, allowing Elladan to control his pleasure.
Legolas watched the mesmerizing swing of the elf-knight's hair for a long moment, then slid to the floor behind the dark elf, his hands kneading hard thighs before wandering upward to map curves and creases. Feeling Elrohir shudder under his caresses, the woodland prince bit back a smirk as he carefully guided one of his lover's knees to the bed.
Though he was dimly aware of Legolas' movements - and what they likely portended - the elf-knight stiffened, a broken litany of oaths and pleas spilling from his mouth, when he felt the first wet slap of his lover's tongue.
His thumbs opening the way, the golden elf lapped teasingly at the puckered entrance, waiting for Elrohir's body to relax before pushing past the tight muscle, unconsciously matching the torturous rhythm Elladan was setting.
Elrohir trembled, his breath coming in great gasps as the pressure in his groin curled tighter and tighter. At last the earlier tension combined with the agonizingly slow pace of his lovers' movements to bring the elf-knight to an overwhelming climax.
As Elladan released his softening length with a final lick, Elrohir's knees buckled and he collapsed into his brother's arms.
"Melin chen, tôren," the elder twin whispered, stroking the sweat-damp hair soothingly. Easing the limp form to the bed, Elladan met the woodland prince's emerald gaze questioningly, a trace of apprehension gleaming in his darkened eyes.
Understanding immediately, Legolas shook his head and reached to tuck a strand of ebony hair behind the elder twin's ear. "Nay," he replied quietly, answering the unasked question. "He has need of you now, el nín, not me. 'Twas for his pleasure. Nothing more."
Elladan's relief was palpable as caught the prince's hand and urged him down onto the bed. "We would have you here beside us, anor nín," he whispered, pulling Legolas into a gentle kiss.
"Always," the golden elf promised. Wriggling out of his sleep pants, Legolas settled comfortably against the mounded pillows. "Now," he said, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Entertain me."
"By all means," Elrohir chuckled, drowsy and content in the aftermath of his explosive completion. "Amuse our wood-elf."
Stretching languidly, the elf-knight reached for his brother's lacings. "Take those off, 'Dan," he ordered, smiling slightly at the speed with which his demand was met. "Eager, are we, melethen?"
"We are," Elladan retorted, covering Elrohir's body with his own, scattering soft kisses over his lover's flushed face. "I am. I need you."
"And I need you," the elf-knight whispered, raising his head to capture his brother's mouth in a tender kiss. "Love me, tôren."
Legolas drew a deep breath as the two identical forms melted into one another, a tangle of pale limbs and midnight dark hair. He still found the sight of his twins together breathtaking, and the tension and disharmony of the past days made this joining all the more poignant for the woodland prince.
Unable to ignore the ache in his own groin for a moment longer, Legolas wrapped one hand around his weeping erection, groaning aloud as he began to stroke the slick flesh slowly. He watched spellbound as Elrohir's legs snaked around Elladan's waist and the elder twin pushed forward, taking the elf-knight with one forceful thrust.
The silvery shimmer that heralded the twins' fusing spread quickly, the light of the moon suddenly pale and cold beside the warm glow. His hand moving ever more rapidly as his climax approached, Legolas forced himself to pause as a single voice echoed in his mind.
Will you not join me, 'Las?
"Nay, melethen," he answered aloud, his voice rough in his own ears. "Tonight I wish only to watch you."
The voice was now amused, a lilt of laughter obvious beneath the strain of passion.
Voyeur.
"Exhibitionist," Legolas chuckled, his hand moving again despite his best efforts to still it.
Coal black eyes met the prince's emerald gaze.
Then we are well matched.
"We are," Legolas agreed hoarsely, giving in to the need to stroke faster, harder as the entwined bodies of his lovers began to rock as one, whimpers and moans increasing in intensity until at last a blended wail signaled their release.
Spilling over his own hand with a shuddering groan, the woodland prince fell weakly to his side and lay still, waiting for the violent pounding of his heart to slow.
When strong arms reached for him, Legolas rolled gratefully into the offered space between his lovers, his head cradled on Elrohir's shoulder, Elladan's body spooned tightly against his back.
"Was that rutting enough for you, 'Roh?" the golden elf teased, rubbing his cheek over the elf-knight's hard chest.
"For the moment," Elrohir replied with a grin, brushing his lips across the silken strands that tickled his chin. "I do believe I am in your debt, however, 'Las."
"Deeply, rohir nín," Legolas murmured sleepily. "And you may be sure I shall collect. Tomorrow."
Elvish translations:
tôren - my brother
rohir nín - my knight
tôr dithen - little brother
melethen - my love
el nín - my star
Melin chen - I love you
mellynen - my friends
meldir - friend (male)
melethron - lover (male)
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