The Early Years: A Barbaric Mirkwood Tradition | By : nuwing Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2643 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: The Early Years: A Barbaric Mirkwood Tradition
Author: Minuial Nuwing
Contact: minuial_nuwing@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Type: FPS
Pairing: Elladan/Elrohir, and a nearly clueless Legolas
Warning: EXPLICIT TWINCEST, piercing (non-graphic), irresponsible use of alcohol, mindless fluff followed by mindless smut, followed by a tiny bit more fluff…
Archive: First Light, AFF.net, LoM, OEAM, Naughty Elves; Others: I would be honored-Just let me know, please!
Feedback: Makes me smile, and write faster…
Beta: No, actually. I keep them too busy with ‘Princes’!
Summary: The story of Elladan and Elrohir’s mithril nipple rings… A vignette from the years before ‘Princes Three’…but it will stand alone as a PWP, too.
Note: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts.
Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else belongs to the creator-god of Middle Earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and humbled by his vision. I promise to clean them all up and return them with smiles on their faces when I am done playing!
Author’s note: The original idea for this little piece came from a review of the first ‘Early Years’ fic in which someone…I think it was Piper…suggested a piece about the nipple piercing episode. At the time my respose was that the Princes weren’t tumbling then, and I jokingly suggested a twins-only episode…well, here it is! The bunny wouldn’t go away! So, thank you, Piper…or forgive me for taking your name in vain if it wasn’t you! **grin**
A/N 2: Forgive the title...’A Barbaric Taur-na-Fuin Tradition’ just didn’t have the same ring! *LOL*
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…Elladan handed his twin a glass of miruvor with a smirk, and turned to Legolas, who was eyeing him with a grin. "I am glad I amuse you, ‘Las. What do you find worth such a smile?"
" I was remembering the night you got this, gwadoren,", he answered, lightly touching the mithril nipple ring that glimmered on the elder twin’s chest. "I think it rich that the Princes of Imladris were persuaded by drink and dare to take part in a barbaric Taur-na-Fuin tradition- even if you only had stomach enough for one," he teased, indicating the pair of gold rings that graced his own peachy-pink nipples…
-- Princes Three: The Beginning, Chapter 3
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Mirkwood 1793 III
Legolas pulled himself to his full height, his chin lifted haughtily. The second-born prince of Mirkwood was a regal sight, the effect only slightly marred by the fact that he was shirtless, and clinging to a tree trunk for support. “I yare dou,” he repeated tauntingly, a smug smile on his fair face.
Elrohir cocked his head thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in drunken concentration. “You yare dou?”, he parroted suspiciously, focusing fuzzily on his golden-haired friend. Turning expectantly to his equally inebriated twin, the elf-knight asked, “Do we yare dou?”
One ebony eyebrow arched in consideration as Elladan pondered the question, assisted by another tip of the wine bottle he grasped possessively. “I do not think so,” he replied cautiously, then reached a firmer decision. “Nay, I am sure we do not.”
Watching the exchange between his friends confusedly, Legolas suddenly burst into decidedly un-regal laughter as he realized what had gone awry. “I don’t yare dou,” he chortled, qualifying his earlier remark, “I dare you…I dare you to do it.”
“Do what? Who?”, Elladan returned with obvious interest, a predatory grin beginning to spread across his face.
“Not that, certainly, ‘Dan,” the woodland prince replied in exasperation. “If there is an innocent of edding bage…I mean of bedding age… left in all of Elvendom, ‘tis not due to your lax efforts.” Sighing dramatically, he pointed at his own chest. “What were we discussing, gwadoren?”
“Oh,” the elder twin said, his disappointment apparent. “The rings.”
“Aye, the rings,” Legolas agreed with a grin. “Well? Will you accept? Or are you too squeamish, hmm?”
“’Tis barbaric, ‘Las,” Elrohir interjected grumpily, folding his arms protectively across his own bare chest. “Why any elf would do such a thing…”
“’Tis tradition in Taur-na-Fuin, ‘Roh,” the archer explained earnestly. “The left ring is for first love…’tis done after an ellon’s majority rites. The right ring is for first kill in battle.” Breaking into a brilliant grin, he added, “I daresay the two of you qualify for both rings.”
Two pair of grey eyes met and locked, and Legolas huffed impatiently. “’Tis impolite to mindspeak…”
“…in public,” Elladan finished with a snicker. “Aye, so we have been told. Endlessly.” Looking at the prince speculatively, he went on, “We will do it…and we agree, the two of us qualify for both rings. I will take the left, ‘Roh the right.”
Legolas shook his head, “But both rings are…”
“We are twins, though, ‘Las,” the elf-knight said ingratiatingly. “We have no need of four rings.”
The woodland prince frowned, struggling to mount an opposition to what admittedly seemed an reasonable argument.
“A vote,” the elder twin announced suddenly. “We shall have a vote.”
Legolas considered the idea briefly, a suspicion that he was, in fact, being tricked nagging at his wine-blurred mind. “Aye, I suppose ‘tis fair,” he granted finally. “I say you each need two rings.”
“I say one each,” Elrohir said quickly, glancing at his brother. “What do you think, ‘Dan?
“One,” the elder twin replied promptly. “Definitely one.”
“Very well,” the prince agreed with little grace, sure he had somehow been outmaneuvered by his friends, who were grinning broadly. “I wager you will wish you had agreed to both in a few days, though,” he chuckled mysteriously, the thought improving his mood greatly.
“Who commits this atrocity, then?”, the elf-knight asked with a sigh. “I would have it over ere I am too sober.”
“The left piercing is most oft done by the one who…well, by the ellon who took part in your majority rites,” Legolas finished quickly, the spirit-induced flush on his cheeks deepening slightly. “The right is carried out by your captain, usually after the first engagement.”
The twins’ gazes met again briefly, and matching grins curled their lips. “He is not here,” they replied together, identical ebony eyebrows arching wryly.
“Nay, I suppose not,” the prince agreed resignedly, though he glanced around as though expecting both unnamed elves to appear magically from the trees. “I could do it, I suppose.”
“Have you ever done so, ‘Las?”, Elladan asked with remarkable calmness, folding his arms more tightly across his chest.
“Nay, I have not,” Legolas admitted. “But I do know how, in theory,” he added, his expression brightening thoughtfully.
“Absolutely not, Thranduilion” Elrohir broke in firmly. “You will not approach my chest with a pointed object, save on the practice field.”
Legolas raised one golden eyebrow in wordless comment, then broke into a broad grin. “Of course! I have the perfect solution…and we will not even be waking him at this wicked hour. Come with me, mellonen.” Blue-green eyes twinkling he added, “And bring the wine.”
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“Are you sure ‘tis a good idea, híren?”, the patrol captain asked warily, taking in the obviously intoxicated trio that had unexpectedly appeared at the gates. “Your friends are rather drunk…”
“As am I, Nóruigallon,” Legolas replied with a lop-sided grin, passing the half-empty botttle back to Elladan. “And ‘twill probably seem a dire idea tomorrow,” he admitted. “But tonight they are willing.”
“Very well, ernilen,” the warrior agreed with a sigh. Turning to the twins, he added, “Sit down, híren. I will be but a moment.”
Returning with a small bowl and what appeared to be a piece torn from a towel, Nóruigallon looked at the Imladrian elves expectantly. “Who will be first?”, he asked, his gaze moving from one visitor to the other.
“I will,” Elladan replied with a sigh. “What shall I do?”
“Can you sit on the wall?”, the captain probed cautiously. “’Twill be easier, but if you are too…have had a bit too much wine, I mean, ‘twill be no matter to remain on the floor.”
“I am not that drunk,” the elder twin insisted petulantly, lifting himself to sit on the waist high wall that surrounded the guard’s walk across the massive gates.
Unconvinced, Nóruigallon motioned Elrohir and Legolas to either side of the seated elf. “Your pardon, ernilen,” he said firmly, taking in all three of his guests, “But I will not risk Lord Elrond’s heir falling from the gates on my watch.”
“Which side will you have, then?”, the captain asked, as he soaked the toweling in the clear spirits that filled the bowl.
“Left,” Elladan answered shortly, watching with uneasy interest as his chest was wiped liberally with the spirit-soaked cloth, causing his nipple to pebble in the cool air.
“’Tis customary to turn your head, gwadoren,” Legolas said quietly, drawing the elder twin’s gaze to himself.
“Aye, it is,” the captain agreed, reaching into the bowl. “’Twill prevent your reflexes from ruining my work.”
“I do not see why I cannot wa…”, Elladan began, his complaint ending in a wordless hiss as a searing pain streaked across his chest.
“There you are, híren,” the warrior announced with a grin, dabbing a final time with the toweling. “Enjoy.” As an afterthought he added, “I thought mithril better than gold with your coloring. You can change it as you wish after a few days.”
The dark elf looked down, unaccountably surprised to see a small ring of mithril gleaming palely against the dusky rose of his nipple, the sharp point guarded by a tiny frosty ball. Raising his head, Elladan met the elf-knight’s darkened gaze.
‘Tis very becoming, tôren. Does it pain you?
A bit, rohir nín . ‘Tis naught to compare to Ada’s stitches, though.
I shall make it better, el nín . Later.
“Never mind them, Nórui,” Legolas said with a smile. “They have yet to learn proper manners.”
Turning to Elrohir, he passed the younger twin the wine bottle with a grin. “Your turn, ’Roh.”
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“’Tis beautiful here, ‘Las”, Elladan confided, looking up at the stars that twinkled through the rustling leaves.
Legolas stretched luxuriously on the lightweight blankets that covered the open platform. “’Tis a beautiful night,” he agreed, turning to look at his friend. “’Twould be a shame to spend it indoors, I think.”
“Indeed it would,” Elrohir chimed in, rolling to look across his twin at the woodland prince, who had happily claimed the last of the final bottle of heady Dorwinion wine. Acutely aware of the warm body beside him, the younger twin breathed a silent plea to any interested Vala in which the quick and blissful unconciousness of a certain Mirkwood royal figured prominently.
Elladan reached up to touch the mithril ring that glittered against the elf-knight’s right nipple, the caress quickly turning into an impersonal healer’s touch as he became aware of the woodland prince’s curious gaze. “Does it hurt, tôren?”
“A bit, aye,” Elrohir answered aloud, suppressing a shudder as his brother’s fingers ghosted over his skin, the seemingly professional touch belied by the obsidian glitter of the elder twin’s eyes.
You are wicked, melethen.
Mayhap. Will he slip into a peaceful stupor, do you think?
Aye, I think so. ‘Tis a shame, really. He is very fair.
Elrohir! He is also gwadorem dithen, is he not?
True, tôren. And we need no guest tonight, hmm?
Watching the silent conversation with amused tolerance, Legolas found himself pondering the bond his friends shared, so different from that of he and his brothers. His eyelids growing heavy, the prince wondered with drunken lucidity if they were aware of what a sensual sight they were, mirror images separated by a mere hands breadth, their gazes locked in such intimate communication…
“’Las?”, Elladan said softly. “Are you awake, gwadoren?”
“Hmm?”, Legolas managed, forcing his eyes open with an effort. “Only for a moment, ‘Dan. Maur dú
, mellynen.”
“Posto mae, ernilen,” the elder twin replied with a smile, moving to cover the drowsy form with a loosely woven spread. A scant moment later deep, steady breathing heralded the prince’s slide into sleep.
Stretching out beside his brother, Elladan grinned down into midnight-dark eyes, where desire wrestled furiously with wine-induced lethargy. “And are you awake, rohir nín ?”, he asked teasingly, lowering his head to lick languidly at a tempting ear tip.
“I believe I will manage a few more minutes,” Elrohir purred, turning his head to capture the exploring mouth in a lingering kiss, his tongue tangling lazily with his lover’s as teeth nipped and nibbled.
Burying his hands in the curtain of ebony hair that fell around him, the elf-knight pulled his twin closer, narrowing the distance between until their legs tangled, drawing their legging-clad hips tightly together. A blended growl escaped as both arched into the delicious friction, and they froze as Legolas stirred restlessly, apparently disturbed by the sounds of pleasure.
He has indecent hearing, even for an elf, melethen.
He does, indeed, rohir nín . We must be nearly silent, I fear.
Aye, we must. I suppose glowing is out of the question?
Elladan snickered softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Aye, melethen, I daresay glowing is out of the question. I have no wish for an audience.” When Elrohir raised an eyebrow skeptically, the elder twin amended, “Tonight, at least. And the glow is private on any night, hmm?”
“It is,” the elf-knight agreed with a smile. Pushing his lover gently over into the blankets, he whispered, “What would you have then, tôren, if we may not glow?”
“Your mouth,” the elder twin breathed, reaching up to draw his brother closer as teasing lips settled on his throat.
Feeling a gentle nip, Elladan grabbed a wandering hand, causing Elrohir to raise his head in surprise. “What is amiss, el nín ?”, he asked quietly, concern creasing his brow.
“You should not mark me,” his lover answered reluctantly. “’Twould be difficult to explain in the morning.”
The elf-knight nodded soberly, then a dazzling grin spread across his face.
You are right, ‘Dan. ‘Twould be hard to explain…if anyone could see it.
Slithering down the marble pale body, Elrohir left a trail of wet kisses in his wake, careful to avoid marking the translucent skin. Pausing at the unfamiliar nipple adornment, he gingerly extended his tongue, wiggling the piercing ring gently. Elladan hissed sharply, grabbing a fistful of silken black hair, yet arching up into the sensation.
Intrigued, the younger twin repeated the movement before drawing back to look at his brother questioningly. “’Tis a little painful, melethen, but there is such a pleasant tingle…”, Elladan explained breathlessly, his eyes nearly black with desire.
Reaching the top of his twin’s leggings, Elrohir loosed the lacing, tugging the leather down to expose his lover’s hardened shaft to the cool air. With only a teasing lick for the weeping head, he pressed his mouth to the tender skin where stomach and groin met, biting and sucking a deep red-purple bruise into the fair skin.
The elder twin bit down hard on his own hand, struggling to keep from crying out in pleasure as his neglected member was suddenly engulfed, sliding smoothly into the wet warmth of Elrohir’s mouth. Groaning despite his best efforts, he thrust up, panting helplessly as he was swallowed completely, the rippling throat muscles kneading his aching length rhythmically.
Wait, rohir nín .
For what, melethen?
Come up here. I would taste you, also, tôren.
Allowing his brother’s weeping member to slide from his mouth, the elf-knight slid up into a fiery kiss, gasping as nimble fingers opened his leggings and curled around his throbbing flesh. Rolling slowly, Elladan forced his twin onto his back, quickly dipping his head to lap gently at the newly pierced nipple, drawing a whimpering groan from his partner.
Once again, Legolas rolled restlessly, stirring as though disturbed by the nearly inaudible sounds of pleasure emanating from the twins’ blankets. Both of the Imladrian elves stopped moving, struggling to quiet their labored breathing as the woodland prince settled back into a heavy slumber. Obsidian-dark eyes met in relief, as the steady sound of the prince’s breathing filled the air once again.
Turning his body gracefully, the elder twin quickly lowered his head, running a teasing tongue over Elrohir’s weeping member before taking ithe velvety-hard shaft into his mouth, to begin moving in earnest. The elf-knight forced back a ragged moan, his head lolling for a moment as he lost himself in the sensation.
Focused on pleasuring his partner, Elladan nearly shouted when his own hardened length was drawn back into the slippery heat of his brother’s mouth, and strong fingers dug into his thighs, pulling him deeper still. Feeling his own release fast approaching, the elder twin grasped his lover’s hips tightly, swallowing the throbbing length and sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks even as he felt his own groin tighten forcefully.
Only long years of practice- and a good portion of luck- kept Elrohir from being rather unpleasantly bitten as his twin released convulsively, shuddering as he spilled deep in the elf-knight’s throat, his whimpers and moans thankfully muffled when he swallowed forcefully one last time, the firm caress of his throat bringing his brother’s completion, as well.
Gasping breathlessly, Elladan crawled back up beside his twin, relacing both their leggings before curling contentedly into the offered embrace. “Melin chen, ‘Roh,” he murmured sleepily, the wine and exertions of the night finally taking their toll.
“Melin chen, tôren,” Elrohir whispered, his eyes already slipping closed.
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Legolas woke just before dawn, stretching with feline-like enjoyment before sitting up and glancing at his friends. Half expecting the twins to be up and waiting to tease him about his late rising, the prince was amazed to find them still soundly asleep…and curled around one another like drowsy elflings.
He briefly considered waking them in some annoying fashion, only to find he had not the heart to disturb the peaceful picture thay made. Sighing ruefully, he carefully laid another blanket over the tangled forms, then stretched out to watch the sun rise, and wait.
**Finis**
Name:
Nóruigallon - fiery hero
Elvish Translations:
gwadoren - my sworn brother
Taur-na-Fuin - Mirkwood (wood of nightshade)
híren - my lord(s)
ernilen - my prince
el nín - my star
rohir nín - my knight
tôren - my brother
Vala - singular form of Valar
melethen - my love
gwadorem dithen - our sworn little brother
maur dú
- good night
mellynen - my friends
posto mae - Sleep/rest well
Melin chen - I love you
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