Princes Three: In the Shadows of Mirkwood | By : nuwing Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4141 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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. |
Author's Note: I am reposting this story, as it was lost in one of the AFF.net crashes, somehow- along with all its lovely reviews. **sniffle** Thanks to everyone who has read and left feedback- I am absolutely devastated that all your wonderful comments have been lost. **sigh**
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Title: Princes Three: In the Shadows of Mirkwood
Author: Minuial Nuwing
Contact: minuial_nuwing@yahoo.com
Website: http://geocities.com/minuial_nuwing
Rating: NC-17 overall
Type: FPS
Pairing: Elladan/Elrohir; Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas, and various combinations thereof ; ) --Glorfindel/Thranduil, Glorfindel/Erestor implied
Warning: Explicit TWINCEST- if this squicks you, please don’t read it ; )
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…
Summary: Sequel to ‘PT: The Beginning’ -- Imladris’ favorite triad descends on Mirkwood…and Thranduil.
Notes: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not for simple emphasis.
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Princes Three: In the Shadows of Mirkwood
The Eaves of Mirkwood, 2150 III
Legolas sighed heavily, pushing back his hood, the failing light setting his pale gold hair ablaze. The cold rain had finally ended, but not before soaking elves and horses, causing them all to chill miserably in the fading warmth of the autumn sun. "And ‘twill only be worse under the canopy," he muttered, looking at the first ranks of Mirkwood’s giant trees in irritation.
The party of five- the woodland prince and his guard- had been nearly a moon on the trip from Imladris, and there remained two or three days of travel through the forest ere they reached Thranduil’s realm. Delayed by unexpected rain and mudslides in the Misty Mountains, as well as the occasional thug, they were tired, sore, and ill-humored.
"Aye, it will be, ernilen," the guard’s captain replied, smiling ruefully. "’Twill most likely be damp, chill and dark. As always. Why do elves live in the woods, anyway?"
Chuckling, the woodland prince clapped his companion on the shoulder affectionately. "I am not at all sure, just now, Tiri. It seems a dank place, indeed, after such a rain. But we must bear it, to get back to the Halls." Clucking to his horse, Legolas said, "Come on, ‘Faer. Take us home, mellonen."
Pausing to nuzzle his master’s knee affectionately, the spirited dark-bay stallion tossed his head, then set off confidently through the closely-packed trees. Picking his way, first right, then left, Ornfaer soon found the path he was seeking. Snorting loudly, he waited for the others to regroup, then headed down the uneven trail at a fast pace.
As the small band of elves moved quickly through the dim forest, Tiriadon pulled his mount alongside the prince. "I think we should stop at the first open clearing, Tiri," Legolas said thoughtfully. "We can not possibly make the second this day, and ‘twould be fool hardy to rest among the trees, even with a watchman, this far from the Halls. In the clearing we can build a fire, at any rate."
"Aye, and thus be able to dry out, also," the captain agreed with a grin. " There is also a small rain pool for the horses, which is surely full after such a storm as just passed. You are wise, for all your youth, ernilen."
Legolas snickered. "Of course, pen iaur. And the fact that your birth was ten years ere mine makes your wisdom much deeper, eh?"
His moss-green eyes sparkling, Tiriadon replied, "Aye, it does. If you will let me pass, híren, I will use my greater experience to secure the clearing."
Checking Ornfaer slightly to allow Tiriadon’s fiery chesnut mare to move ahead, the prince found himself thankful- not for the first time- for the devotion he enjoyed from his guards. Assigned to him permanently, they were companions, as well as protectors. They had all killed for him many times over, and he had no doubt they would willingly die in his service.
And, more importantly at this moment, he trusted them implicitly with his secrets. Though they wore the colors of Mirkwood, their loyalty- in any situation short of an armed revolt, at any rate- was to Legolas, rather than Thranduil. As they had all been at least distant witnesses to his changing relationship with the Peredhil twins, the promise of their discretion was reassuring, indeed.
Turning suddenly through a nearly hidden opening, Tiriadon entered the clearing, followed closely by a second guard. They quickly scanned the open area for any obvious threat. Finding none, the captain slid thankfully from his mount. "We must get a fire going as soon as may be," he instructed, quickly assigning the soldiers their tasks. "There is little time to spare before sunset, and we need the warmth to dry us."
Helping his captain relieve the horses of their burdens, then feed and water the exhausted animals, Legolas viewed the trees thoughtfully. His forest-honed senses troubled, he turned to his companion. "I do not like this, mellonen. Though I see no ungol-sign, it is strangely quiet. There is no birdsong, no movement of small creatures." Frowning, the prince repeated slowly, "I do not like it."
Looking intently at his lord, Tiriadon nodded. "Aye, ‘tis very still. We will keep the fire going, and set a watch."
Moving back to the warmth of the blazing fire, the two elves gratefully stripped off wet clothing, slipping on dry garments from their packs. Digging through the food stores, which had become distressingly short due to the delays, Legolas handed a strip of dried meat and broken lembas to Tiriadon, taking the same for himself. "’Twill be good to get home, for fresh food, if nothing else," the prince said with a smile.
The captain laughed. "Aye, ‘twill be nice to have fresh food." Grinning broadly, he finished. "Among other things." Wincing at the flash of pain in his friend’s eyes, Tiriadon said, "I am sorry, Legolas. I did not think. Forgive me, mellonen."
"’Tis naught to forgive," the prince returned, his smile sad as he glanced at the mithril cuff that spiraled around his forearm. "I did not beg your pardon in Imladris, though you were without your lover." After a moment, Legolas looked curiously at his friend. "How do you do it, Tiri? How do you manage, being away from her?"
His lips curling slightly, the captain answered, "With my hand, híren, much like everyone else."
Good humor restored, the woodland prince chuckled. "That is not what I meant, mellonen. I am well acquainted with that particular skill. I was speaking of the loneliness. How do you manage to keep up your spirits?"
Tiriadon was silent for a moment. "’Tis not really so bad, ernilen. You have always done your extended traveling with Lord Elrond’s sons, so I am rarely gone for more than a week or two at a time. Usually it is a matter of days apart, not weeks or months." Grinning, he continued, "Unless you drag me off on a fool errand such as this one."
Legolas smiled, but his intended jest died on his lips as one of the horses screamed in terror. Leaping up, he notched an arrow, running to where the trembling animals stood. Unable to see any threat, even with his keen eyes, the prince stood very still. Over the scent of the horse’s faerr, he became aware of another odor. Wild, rank, and unmistakable. "Not yngyl, Tiri," he called softly. "Warg."
"In the forest?", the captain replied, quickly pulling the frightened horses into the center of the clearing, as near the fire as they would bear. "’Tis something new."
"Aye," Legolas said grimly, scanning the surrounding trees for the gleam of yellow eyes. "Something has drawn them from the mountains, I wager." Listening intently, he ordered, "Be ready, mellynen. They are coming."
Backs to the fire, and to the nervous horses, the elves waited, weapons at the ready.
Suddenly, with a snarl and a flash like yellow flame, the first warg attacked, falling to the ground in mid-leap, Legolas’ arrow piercing its throat. Even as the first creature fell, others charged the ring of elves, snapping and slashing with teeth and claws. Though the outcome was never truly in doubt, Legolas sighed with relief when the last beast fell to Tiriadon’s knife. "’Tis a bit much, fending off a pack of wargs after a day in the mud and rain," the prince observed wryly, as they piled the carcasses to burn.
"Aye, it is," the captain agreed, heaving the last warg onto the stacked remains. "Come, ernilen. Let us wash, and then take some rest. We will set two guards for what remains of the night."
Nodding, Legolas headed for the rain pool to clean himself of the dark warg blood. "’Twould be best to leave by dawn," he added, kneeling by the water. "Mayhap we can make the Halls by ithil’s rise tomorrow, if we have no further delays."
"Mayhap," the captain replied cautiously, his red-gold braids swinging, as they scrubbed their bloodied hands and faces vigorously. "’Twill be quite a day’s ride, though."
"But not impossible, Tiri," the woodland prince countered, leading the way to the fire. Spreading his blanket, he dropped to the ground. "’Twill be better to ride hard tomorrow than spend another night such as this one."
"’Tis a fact, indeed," the captain said with a grin. "Get some rest, híren."
Legolas rolled himself in the blanket, and lay watching the dancing flames. Reverie did not come easily, and when the blue-green eyes finally lost their focus, his waking dreams were filled, as always, with silver-grey eyes and black silk.
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Imladris, 2150 III
"Elladan!", Glorfindel yelled in frustration. "Wait! Your arm needs seeing to, pen neth."
"’Tis alright," the elder twin called back, never slowing his pace. "Ada will look at it." Grabbing his brother’s arm, he urged ,"Come on, ‘Roh. Let us find him."
"Aye," Elrohir agreed, his haste as great as his twin’s. "Mayhap there has been word while we were gone." The two hurried down the corridors of the manor, oblivious to the effect their state of disrepair had on those they passed.
Elrond half rose from his chair when his sons burst into the library. Taking in their bedraggled appearance, as well as Elladan’s blood-stained sleeve, the peredhel lord immediately took charge. "Sit down, ionen," he insisted, pushing the elder twin into a chair. "Elrohir, fetch my healer’s box, and some water, please."
Quickly ripping open the torn, bloodied sleeve and the makeshift binding, the ancient elf was relieved to see a relatively clean laceration, though it ran half-way from wrist to elbow. "It appears there was no poison on the blade," he said thankfully, carefully cleansing the wound. "’Tis deep though. It must be stitched, I fear."
"It is naught to worry over, Ada," Elladan insisted, wincing as the water flowed over his arm, stinging where it touched the torn flesh. "’Twas only a gang of brigands, and they will bother Imladris no longer. Have you any word from Thranduil?"
"Nay, pen neth, not yet," Elrond answered soberly, as he gently dabbed the wound with pain-dulling salve. Looking at his eldest son questioningly, the healer received a slight nod. "Hold his arm, Elrohir," he said, quickly preparing his needle. Elladan turned his head, burying his face in his twin’s neck. The sting of the needle was followed by the burn of silk thread sliding through injured flesh, and both father and son breathed a sigh of relief when a clean bandage was secured in place.
"But ‘tis just at a moon since they left. We should probably have news at any time," Elrond offered, as though there had been no break in their conversation. Pressing a kiss to the elder twin’s forehead, then to Elrohir’s, he laid a sympathetic hand on each dark head. "He is well, yn nín . You must have faith."
"But ‘tis not a full moon’s trip to Taur-na-Fuin, Ada," Elladan argued, carefully flexing his injured muscles. "They should have arrived several days ago, if all is well."
"Aye, they should have," the elf-knight agreed. "Unless some difficulty has befallen them in the mountains."
"’Tis no profit in such talk," Elrond said kindly, but firmly. "We shall hear soon, I wager, and until then, we will expect all to be well. To do otherwise is to doubt Prince Legolas."
Taking in the dirty and exhausted condition of his sons, the Imladrian Lord sighed. "To the bathing chamber, with both of you now, I think. Do not get that dressing wet, Elladan. Elrohir, you will need to help him bathe."
As identical ebony eyebrows arched skyward over barely suppressed grins, the younger twin replied, "I fully intend too, Ada. The return from a near three-week patrol requires a long soaking bath, and much scrubbing. ‘Tis definitely better with two."
Elrond, having once had a twin of his own, was unable to squelch the images called forth by the teasing comment. Sighing, he shook his head ruefully at his younger son. "There are times, Elrohir, when it is well to limit yourself to a simple ‘Yes, Ada’. I do not require details." Handing the elf-knight a clean bandage roll, he said calmly, "If the dressing gets wet, ionen, it must be changed. I will expect you both for a late dinner, hmm?"
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Leaning back comfortably against his brother, water lapping around his chest, Elrohir sighed contentedly. Elladan chuckled, his good hand drawing idle circles on his lover’s stomach. "I agree, rohir nín. ‘Tis good to be home. And good to be clean."
"Aye, it is," the elf-knight agreed, stilling the circling fingers with his own. "How fares your arm? Is the bandage wet?"
"Damp," the elder twin admitted. "’Twill need changing, when we leave the tub. But the pain is much improved."
"That is well," Elrohir said, turning to sit astride his brother’s thighs. "Because I am not yet ready to leave the water." Pressing a lingering kiss to willing lips, he murmured, "How long has it been, el nín, since you last had me like this, hmm?"
"Too long," Elladan breathed, gathering the other in a tight embrace. Hissing as their bodies slid together sensually in the warm water, the elder twin twisted ebony-dark locks around his hand, gently forcing the elf-knight’s head back, nuzzling and nipping the pale throat.
Unable to stifle a groan, Elrohir reached down and seized both their hardened members, stroking languidly with an open hand. "I want you now, tôr nín ," he whispered, tickling a sensitive ear. "Have me, and make it last, hmm?"
Heedless of his injured arm, Elladan slid both hands down to caress the firm cheeks, running teasing fingers over the puckered opening, before carefully slipping in one finger. His breath hitching, Elrohir pushed down on the searching hand. "Please, ‘Dan," he gasped, "’Twill not hurt."
Swallowing hard, the elder twin quickly pushed in another finger, then another, stretching the tight muscle, before pulling his hand away. Capturing Elladan’s mouth in a fierce kiss, the elf-knight pressed tightly against the other’s chest, then pushed down, slowly impaling himself on his brother’s throbbing length with a harsh moan.
Breaking the kiss, Elrohir raised a hand to touch his twin’s face, their midnight-dark eyes locked in an intense gaze. They remained motionless as the familiar silvery sheen began to envelop their bodies, and each half of their faer reached eagerly for its mate. Thoughts merged, and the warm feeling of wholeness began to flow, but still they remained unmoving, until finally the fusing was complete, and the sensation of both filling and being filled became too much to bear.
With a sobbing gasp Elrohir began to rock his hips, his straining member rubbing against Elladan’s hard stomach. Moving as one, hands roamed, mouths nuzzled and nipped, as growls and moans fell in perfectly blended chorus, ending in a keening wail, as silvery seed spilled from both in the same instant, a single name echoing in the fused soul.
Legolas
Snuggled tightly together, clinging to the warmth as their faer reluctantly halved once more, the thoughts of the Imladrian Princes remained haunted by blue-green eyes, and golden braids.
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Names:Tiriadon - guardian or watcher ('Las' captain of the guard)Elvish translations:
ernilen- my prince
mellonen- my friend
pen iaur- ancient one
híren- my lord
ungol - spider
yngyl - spiders
mellynen- my friends
Taur-na-Fuin - Mirkwood (wood of nightshade)
ionen- my son
yn nín - my sons
pen neth- young one
el nín - my star
rohir nín - my knight
tôr nín - my brother (by blood)
faer - spirit, soul
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