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Twilight Tales - Troth	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 2353 -:- 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.

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Author’s Note: When I wrote Chapter 13 of The Captain’s Guerdon, I originally included a more detailed description of Legolas and Elrohir’s interlude in the conservatory. But upon going over the draft afterwards, I felt it disrupted the flow of the main story; that it was gratuitous and not necessary to the overall clarity of this part of the tale. Furthermore, it was way too long – almost a whole chapter in itself! (I tend to get carried away whenever I write about these two. *shakes head*) Hence, its removal. However, I received requests for more of Elrohir and Legolas together. So I decided to resurrect the ‘deleted’ scene – I always preserve discarded scenes for possible use in another story – and post it anyway. Keekercatt, Ithilslight and Serein: I hope this is enough ‘hot Elf on top’ for you.

Title: Troth

Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Legolas/Elrohir

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.

Summary: Just before embarking on the Quest of the Ring, Legolas receives the most precious gift of all. An ‘out-take’ from The Captain’s Guerdon.

Rivendell, Ringarë 25 TA 3018

Legolas sighed with contentment as he felt Elrohir’s arms enfold him. Just minutes earlier, he had gained Elrohir’s pledge of eternal devotion to him no matter what fate the Elf-knight’s twin chose. That and the fast and fevered coupling that followed had washed away his fear that he would lose Elrohir to a fate the Mirkwood prince considered worse than death.

He smiled with some amusement that they had been too impatient to seek the privacy of either of their bedchambers and instead had rutted with abandon right on the floor of the Last Homely House’s conservatory. Granted, the abundant foliage and lush floral clusters hid them from immediate sight of anyone coming into the large chamber. Still, they were in a public space – he could only imagine what his parents would say were word to reach them of their youngest son’s behavior.

His pleasant musings were interrupted when Elrohir raised himself on one arm and looked in the direction of the conservatory entrance, as if in answer to a call. His own view of the door obscured by the thick greenery that concealed them, Legolas could only guess that someone had entered the chamber. He instinctively reached for his breeches. Though wanton when in Elrohir’s arms, he was still a reserved Wood-elf in the presence of others. But Elrohir stopped him, slightly smiled and shook his head.

“Stay here,” he softly said. “I will be but a minute.”

Legolas watched curiously as the Elf-knight quickly drew on his breeches and shirt then strode to the door. He heard the low murmur of voices punctuated by a muffled exclamation from Elrohir followed by an indistinct reply. He stiffened, recognizing Elladan’s voice. Trepidation assailed him once more – what had Elladan said to elicit that obviously distressed response from Elrohir?

He rose to his knees to peer over the flora. In time to see the brothers embrace tightly before Elladan drew away and departed. Elrohir stood awhile at the entrance, watching him go, before he turned to walk back to Legolas.

Elrohir looked somberly at him for a moment. The prince waited with bated breath, dreading the announcement of a sudden change of heart. But to his surprise, Elrohir dropped to his knees and pulled him into his arms to kiss him long and heatedly before holding him close.

Legolas clung to him, sensing the conflicted feelings his lover harbored. “Elrohir, what is wrong?” he fearfully asked, not daring to look at the warrior’s face.

Elrohir whispered: “You have nothing to fear. Elladan only came to tell us that Father has requested the Company to assemble in the Hall of Fire before you depart.”

Something in his voice caught Legolas’ attention. He swallowed hard, raised his head and looked searchingly into Elrohir’s gleaming argent eyes.

“Only that?” Legolas said in a hushed voice.

Elrohir hesitated then sighed. “He told me not to await his choice before declaring mine,” he murmured. “That henceforth, ‘tis you who must come first in my regard.” He suddenly cupped Legolas’ face and said: “And he is right, melethen.”—my love. “You indeed come first with me and will evermore.”

Legolas gasped when his mouth was claimed in a molten kiss that inflamed him so abruptly he could think of nothing but the need to seal his body to the Elf-knight’s once more. He hurriedly yanked Elrohir’s shirt from his shoulders and down his arms then quickly unlaced his breeches. Elrohir drew away for a moment to shed his trousers.

As soon as he did, Legolas was back in his arms, kissing him hungrily, pressing their bodies together in blatant lust. He bore the prince down upon the makeshift bedding of their raiment, their lips never parting.

It was a slower coupling this time around but no less passionate than the first. Elrohir poured all his love into their joining, acutely aware that there was no telling when they would see each other once more, knowing that Legolas would use every memory as a means of staving off fear or despair during the Quest.

He caught Legolas’ hands in his and pushed them down on either side of the archer’s shoulders then draped his feet over the archer’s ankles, effectively pinning his legs down as well. Ignoring Legolas’ wide-eyed gaze, he smiled and bent to run his tongue along the rim of one delicate ear then nibbled at the silky skin behind and below, eliciting shuddery moans from his lover. Moved lower to kiss and nip the alabaster flesh of his throat, lingering at the sensitive hollow at its base. Followed the line of one collarbone to shoulder slope down to the soft inner expanse of his upper arm. Each gasp and groan and whimper urged him on and he obliged his beloved Wood-elf, moving to the smooth plane of his chest to suckle at his already taut nipples.

Legolas arched up instinctively. He wanted to clutch Elrohir to him, lock his legs around the warrior’s body and sheathe the hard flesh he could feel jabbing at his belly. But Elrohir did not surrender control of the leisurely pace he’d set and he was forced to endure each maddening infliction of pleasure.

Only when Elrohir descended further to apply his lips and tongue to the archer’s belly and groin, did he release Legolas’ hands only to catch his hips in a firm grasp. The prince’s moan rent the air upon the engulfment of his shaft in the Elf-knight’s talented mouth. For the next few minutes, Legolas could neither speak nor think coherently. He dug his fingers into the tunic beneath him, gripping it so tightly he nigh tore it to shreds.

He was openly sobbing by the time Elrohir finished him off, drinking him down so voraciously that Legolas wondered if he would recover from this draining before the day was done. Feeling Elrohir crawl up over him, he snaked his arms around the warrior, seeking as much the closeness of their spirits as the intimacy of their bodies. Elrohir allowed him a few moments respite, pressing gentle kisses to his lips.

His thighs were nudged apart and Elrohir reached down behind his knees to pull his legs up and guide them around his waist. Almost undone by relief, Legolas eagerly complied. And then Elrohir took hold of his hands and again pushed them down alongside his shoulders. Legolas glared at him in protest but his ire faded swiftly when he felt the warrior’s primed shaft enter him. Barely.

Elrohir took his time sheathing himself, sliding in just enough to tantalize his impatient lover then retreating before he was fully enclosed. The gradual, teasing penetration wrung a litany of moans and gasps and an occasional imprecation from Legolas. Smirking wickedly, Elrohir resisted the insistent pressure of the lean legs around his torso and withheld that last satisfying plunge long enough to keep his prince on the very edge of fulfillment.

“Elrohir, please… enough…” Legolas finally begged. Still the Elf-knight restrained himself and gazed at him, mischief dancing in his pewter eyes. Legolas stared back imploringly. “Have mercy, seron vell”—beloved—he pleaded in a voice broken by overwhelming need.

Elrohir’s eyes flashed with answering desire and he drove hard into the prince’s quivering form. Legolas reared up in response to his body’s impalement. The mild, shallow thrusts gave way to deep, pounding plunges, every inward stroke angled to wrest the greatest pleasure possible for both of them. So intense was Legolas’ rapture it bordered on excruciating. He did not know whether to revel in the dizzying sensations or regret hurrying Elrohir into this blissfully ungentle coupling.

Elrohir released his hands to slide one arm under him and cradle him, kissing him hard before letting his lips wander down to his neck. While Legolas wrapped his freed arms around his back, the twin reached between them to cup and stroke the turgid seed-slick column that prodded his stomach. Legolas writhed wildly upon contact but Elrohir held him fast, nipping ardently at the archer’s creamy throat. He felt the beginnings of Legolas’ release course through him, evident in the delicious tightening around Elrohir’s embedded length and the mindless thrusts of his shaft into the warrior’s hand.

A startled cry escaped Legolas when he felt Elrohir’s warm lips latch onto a peaked nipple. His climax ripped through him, spiraling with every pull on his shaft, and every moist tug on his nipple lengthening the rapture, until he was almost weeping from the joy of it. An instant later, Elrohir joined him in ecstasy, muffling his gasps against Legolas’ breast, buried as deep as he could get in the heated satin of his core.

They remained joined as the waves of their pleasure crested then slowly receded. Still Legolas refused to unlock his limbs from around Elrohir, relishing the utter bliss of feeling the warrior’s flesh within him. Elrohir did not oppose him and responded to Legolas’ fervent kisses with like feeling. Finally he sighed and took a quick glance out the mullioned glass panel that overlooked the garden. The sun was slowly waning.

“Come, my heart,” he murmured. “You need to freshen up lest you wish all of Imladris to know what manner of send-off I gave you.”

Though his cheeks colored faintly, Legolas chuckled and nodded. With no little reluctance, he unwound his legs and released the Elf-knight. Together, they rose and drew on their clothes.

Legolas had just finished fastening his tunic when he looked up to see Elladan approaching. The woodland prince blushed, wondering if the older twin had been outside the door all that time. But Elladan smiled kindly at him before addressing his brother.

“‘Tis time, brother mine,” he said, revealing a small silk pouch to his twin. Elrohir nodded, his eyes turning somber. Elladan regarded Legolas fondly. “I promised I would stand as his witness when he declares himself to the Valar. I have persuaded him to do so before you leave. ‘Twill make a fine betrothal gift – one fit for a prince. Don’t you agree, Legolas?”

The archer stared at him in astonishment. With a small smile, Elladan inverted the pouch and emptied it into his hand. Two gleaming bands of purest silver lay in his palm. The prince turned his gaze to Elrohir, eyes widening in patently hopeful inquiry.

“I had them forged the day after we first lay together,” Elrohir softly admitted. “I would have presented them to you as soon as the smiths were done but…” He looked a little sadly at Elladan.

The older twin shook his head. “You must not darken Legolas’ last day with you, gwanneth”—younger twin—he gently chided. “Rejoice that you have found one another instead and claim him forthwith!”

Elrohir laid glistening eyes on his twin then gazed at his prince. Seeing Legolas’ renewed uncertainty, he set aside his sadness and a sweet smile lit his face. Without further comment, he took one ring and held out his hand to Legolas. Eyes now also gleaming with unshed tears, Legolas entrusted his visibly trembling right hand to the Elf-knight’s clasp. He drew in a shaky breath as the ring was slipped onto his index finger. When the time came for them to wed, he would return the ring to Elrohir and a gold band would take its place signifying the eternal binding of their hearts and spirits. He did likewise for Elrohir with the other ring, holding onto the warrior’s hand a mite longer and staring at his silver-adorned finger as if unable to believe that the latter was truly his betrothed.

“And now your gift, Elrohir,” Elladan tenderly exhorted.

The Elf-knight swallowed hard then kissed Legolas’ hand before relinquishing it and placing his hands in his brother’s. Their near identical eyes met and their fraternal bond surged with their everlasting love for each other. Each knew that, come what may, this love would never fail even should the timeless halls themselves come between them.

““From this day forth I will take my place amongst the Elder Kindred,” Elrohir stated in a soft but strong voice. “With the blessing of the Valar, I pledge myself to eternity and to the binding of my soul to the Elf of my heart.”

The sudden flaring of his elven flame took him by surprise and he drew his breath in sharply. For several moments his cheeks turned ruddy with the heat within and his eyes took on an unearthly glow – like limpid pools of shimmering silver. He tightly gripped his brother’s hands as if he felt a chasm yawn between them. And he knew in that instant that they were alike in kindred no more even if they were still linked by blood and brotherhood.

He broke then and could no more dam the tears that flowed than he could halt the steady onslaught of the Great Ocean on Middle-earth’s shores. Elladan knew and pulled him into a comforting embrace. For a time the brethren withdrew from all else without, silently reaffirming their love for each other even should they face the most grievous parting of all.

At last, Elladan held his twin from him and gently pushed him toward Legolas. The prince had kept silent in sympathy, comprehending the enormity of what had just occurred. But seeing Elrohir’s tearful countenance and Elladan’s stoic attempt not to follow suit, he suddenly realized that the gift bestowed upon him was as much the older twin’s as the youngest’s. Biting his lip, he hugged Elladan close.

“My thanks, gwador”—sworn brother—he whispered before letting go of his law-brother to be.

He turned to Elrohir and of a sudden looked distressed. “I have no gift to match what you have given me,” he said to the Elf-knight, embarrassment shading his tone.

Elrohir lifted his hand to cup the archer’s comely face. “You gave me yourself freely and wholly, my Legolas, even without certitude of my choice,” he replied smilingly. “That is more than a match for my gift and one I will cherish for all the ages to come.”

Legolas beamed happily at the heartfelt answer. He drew his lover into a tight embrace and a lengthy kiss that promised the future and beyond.

At length, they drew apart, aware that dusk was nigh upon them. His arm firm around Legolas’ slender waist, Elrohir extended his hand to Elladan.

As his twin took it, the Elf-knight heaved a sigh and said: “Let us go.”

*************************

Glossary:

Ringarë – Quenya for December

forthwith – without delay

The End
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Twilight Tales - Troth