Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 12116 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Advent
- 2-Bridging
- 3-Pledges
- 4-Serendipity
- 5-Deepening
- 6-Request
- 7-Bedfellows
- 8-Liaison
- 9-Catalyst
- 10-Tidings
- 11-Profession
- 12-Rift
- 13-Seeking
- 14-Confluence
- 15-Oneness
- 16-Assignation
- 17-Covenant
- 18-Gambit
- 19-Recovery
- 20-Bond
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter XI: Profession

Ringarë TA 3018

The brethren came back to Rivendell in the early hours of the eighteenth day of December, last to return of all who had ridden out to scout the lands around the vale. They spoke to no one when they arrived but immediately closeted themselves with their father in his study. What they related to him none knew or presumed, not even Gandalf or Aragorn who were thought to be in their confidence. The only certainty was that Elrond would apprise them in turn of all that had passed while they were gone.

Including the news that the Company of the Ring was nigh complete and which six intrepid souls had thus far formally sworn themselves to the task of accompanying Frodo Baggins in his perilous undertaking. This latter piece of information had the twins reeling in shock.

“Legolas is going?” Elladan gasped. “Father, how could you let him do this?”

Elrond noted the sudden pallor of Elrohir’s countenance. “He insisted on it,” he explained. “In the presence of all the others who would go. How could I tell him to desist without impugning his worth and that of his people?” He looked apologetically at his younger son. “Had he approached me in private, I could have attempted to dissuade him without touching on his Wood-elf’s honor. But in front of virtually everyone else…” He shook his head. “I am sorry, Elrohir. I knew you would not approve.”

Elrohir gritted his teeth then slammed a hand down on his father’s desk in frustration. “I should have guessed that he would do this!” he hissed. “He would make amends for allowing Gollum to escape!”

Both Elrond and Elladan drew their breaths in sharply.

“But of course!” Elladan said. “Ai, that confounded pride of his!” He scowled. “You must speak to him, brother. You must make him see the folly of his decision.”

Elrohir laughed bitterly. “Folly of his decision?” he repeated. “And is it folly for Glóin’s son to offer his services or faithful Samwise? They need not place themselves in danger yet they will – out of duty, honor and fellowship.” His mouth tightened. “I know not how to convince him to withdraw now. I can give him no grounds that will appeal to his reason.”

Elladan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Then do not use reason to persuade him,” he counselled. “Hold him here on your account. Tell him how you feel about him.”

The Elf-knight glared at him. “You would have me use that as a means to keep him here?” he said aghast. “‘Tis not the way I had thought to declare myself to him, Elladan!”

“Declare yourself?” Elrond echoed, stunned. “Splendor of Eru, he was right all those years ago!” he softly exclaimed. “But I suppose I should have expected it given your long-standing affair.” He regarded both his sons when they stared at him in curiosity. “Mithrandir foresaw this when Legolas was little more than a babe out of swaddling clothes,” he explained. Smiling faintly when Elrohir began to blush, he clapped his hand on the younger twin’s shoulder. “My felicitations, my son. Legolas will make a fine binding-mate.”

Elrohir let out a gust of breath. “‘Tis too soon to speak of espousals, Ada”—Papa—he muttered. “He does not even know of my intentions and I know nothing of his feelings in that regard.”

“Yet you believe he returns your love,” Elladan said bluntly. “You said so yourself.”

“I do believe it,” Elrohir said warily.

“Then tell him at once,” the older twin urged him. “He will not refuse you if he knows the main reason why you would keep him from going.”

Elrohir placed a hand to his suddenly throbbing forehead. “This is too sudden!” he protested. “‘Tis hardly how I had hoped to tell him!”

Elladan snorted. “Better to make haste and keep him safe than delay the telling and watch him walk into peril!” he pointed out.

Elrond raised a cautioning hand. “Elrohir is right. We cannot be certain that Legolas will respond as we desire.” Forestalling Elladan’s quick retort, he added: “However, I do agree that you must tell him, gwanneth” —younger twin—“if he is to go on this quest. ‘Twill be hazardous and we know not what might befall the Company ere they achieve their end.” His eyes softened as he considered Elrohir’s apprehensive expression. “Tell him before he leaves that he might carry your love with him even should the worst come to pass.”

When Elrohir hesitantly nodded his acquiescence, Elrond turned his thoughts back to the looming expedition and its attendant problems. He said to his sons: “Tell Mithrandir I wish to confer with him then have Estel and the hobbits join us after. I would have Frodo affirm his commitment to this enterprise.”

*******

As soon as their father’s talk with the hobbits was done, the brethren confronted the archer in the Hall of Fire where he had been avidly listening to a lively debate between Boromir and some well-travelled Elves regarding the route the company ought to take on the trek south. As soon as they walked in, Legolas guessed what was afoot for their countenances were grim and troubled. He leaped to his feet and hastened to greet them. That they swiftly took him aside to a secluded corner confirmed his suspicion of the reason for their unsmiling miens.

“You are back,” he said, an uncertain smile of his own not quite curling his lips. “And not too pleased with me, I dare say.”

“How can you expect us to be?” Elladan said tartly. “To come back and find you have committed yourself to the quest without so much as a by-your-leave is hardly a delightful surprise!”

Legolas glanced at Elrohir. The Elf-knight was regarding him impassively – alarmingly so. “I am sorry if I have offended you in this respect,” he said carefully. “But when your father sought volunteers from amongst the Elves, I had to ensure that I would have a place in the company.”

Elrohir’s eyes narrowed. “Then you had meant to offer yourself even before we left,” he murmured. At Legolas’ guilty start, he said: “You made up your mind during the Council yet you did not tell us.”

Legolas sighed. “I cannot deny that,” he admitted.

Elladan shook his head, muttering something under his breath about mule-headed woodland archers. Legolas glared at him in umbrage only to subside when he noticed Elrohir’s reproachful expression. Chastened, he placed a placating hand on the Elf-knight’s arm.

“Forgive me, pen vell”—dear one—he softly said. “I know you cannot like this but I must take this road. You know I must.”

“Gollum’s escape was no stain on your honor, Legolas,” Elrohir said tightly. “And I asked you not to make any rash decisions while I was gone.” He pulled away in frustration. “I thought I had some sway with you but it seems I was mistaken.”

Legolas’ eyes widened, taken aback by the younger twin’s uncharacteristic pique with him. “You do have sway!” he insisted. “But this is something I have to do. Surely you understand this, Elrohir.”

Suddenly feeling weary, Elrohir abruptly said: “I understand all too well. If this is the only way you feel you can absolve yourself of whatever blame you believe is yours – so be it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left the hall, leaving his brother and friend to stare after him, the first in sympathy, the other in consternation.

Elladan resisted the temptation to throw up his hands in exasperation and simply said to the archer: “Well, that should please you. He has given you his blessings!” He gave in to the impulse to roll his eyes and left the hall as well.

Stunned by Elrohir’s precipitate abandonment, Legolas silently returned to his place. But he heard little of the continued debate.

********

Midnight approached but sleep continued to elude the woodland prince. Legolas tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find rest even in his waking dreams. For the memory of his less than happy encounter with Elrohir lingered and intruded on his consciousness without respite and darkened whatever pathways his mind attempted to follow.

The Elf-knight had not returned to the Hall of Fire when Elrond announced soon after that the hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, had insisted on completing the company’s number. Though surprised by the younger Halflings’ unexpected gumption, Legolas had not opposed their inclusion, trusting to Elrond and Gandalf’s wisdom in the matter. But he had been troubled when Elrohir did not attend so vital a moment and stayed away from him for the remainder of the day.

The thought of going to the Elf-knight and apologizing had nagged at him but he had resisted the impulse. For he was just as certain such a gesture would only lead Elrohir to try and convince him to withdraw from the quest. And that Legolas could not do.

But the non-resolution of their unprecedented spat now left him restless and morose. Never had they parted on unfriendly terms before – even the mildest arguments had always been settled to their mutual satisfaction. Legolas lay back and stared unseeingly at the coffered ceiling. It looked to be a long and lonesome night.

The door opened. Startled, the archer hurriedly sat up. A moment later, his heart near leaped with relief when Elrohir quietly entered the chamber clad in naught but a night-robe.

“Elrohir!” he softly exclaimed, moving to clamber out of bed. “I feared you were still—”

A gesture from the Elf-knight both stopped and silenced him. He stared as the warrior shed his robe. The mere sight of the other’s bared beauty inflamed him almost at once and he held out his arms to the twin. Elrohir slipped into the bed and into his embrace. Feeling his lover’s hands tug the lacings on his bed-trousers loose, he lifted his hips to permit the garment to be eased down and off him.

Their mouths met in searing union. No words were needed to express the yearning of their bodies. No speech could evince the deep longing more than two score years apart could evoke.

Legolas clutched the Elf-knight to himself, savoring the heated press of their bodies, seeking the mingling of thoughts and emotions that made his couplings with Elrohir so different and memorable when compared to all his other experiences in the carnal arts. His need was all the more heightened by their disagreement earlier in the day. Fleeting though it had been, it was the first Legolas could recall that had not been resolved almost as soon as it had started. The first he’d had to endure the consequences of by himself while apprehensiveness and loneliness gnawed at him.

It spurred him to take as much as he could of this joining. He would carry the memory with him on his journey; use it to buttress his spirits when they were low or threatened to fail entirely.

Elrohir sensed his near desperation for their singular intimacy. Not for a moment did he allow their bodies to lose contact, his hands constantly stroking and fondling while he plied his lips and tongue and teeth on flushed, simmering flesh. Legolas moaned as he was steadily unravelled; cried out when he was at last drawn into the moist warmth of Elrohir’s mouth.

He always let go when in the Elf-knight’s thrall. In Elrohir’s arms, he did not need to retreat behind a wall of discipline and mastery. He could be himself and give of himself as wholly as he desired. In their shared bed, he could be as helpless as he was masterful; as wanton or as tender as his mood dictated.

With Elrohir, he knew complete freedom and the abandoned ecstasy that came with such freedom.

Sobbing, he gave in to his body’s craving, spending himself fulsomely, trembling and moaning as he was milked almost beyond forbearance. He lay limply for several moments after while Elrohir crept up to lie beside him once more. The feel of the twin’s rigid length against his hip served as an eloquent reminder of the Elf-knight’s still unabated arousal. Desire burgeoned anew in Legolas’ loins – he did not wait for his strength to return but pulled Elrohir atop him, and lifted his legs to lock them around the twin’s waist. The mute invitation was swiftly answered.

He was speared and delved with a hardiness and speed that bespoke the Elf-knight’s own longing for him. Legolas wondered if his lover had denied himself these last four and forty years as he had – the prince had simply been unable to abide yet another body that was not Elrohir’s in his bed and thus refused any and all offers to quench his hunger. The thought that perhaps they had shared this so very rarified yearning and chosen continence over indulgence as a result stoked the renewed fire within him into a virtual conflagration, raging through every vein and nerve and sinew of his body. His shaft, so recently tended to blissful completion, surged anon into thrumming vigor and began to clamor for yet another rapturous culmination.

Elrohir did not leave his need unattended but reached for it and stroked him even as he drove deep and hard into his quivering form. Legolas groaned, gasped and begged as the exquisite sensation of unravelling blossomed inexorably, bringing him ever closer to the point of eruption. And then it did and he was crying out Elrohir’s name, grasping convulsively at his shoulders while his body jerked with every spurt of pearlescent cream into the Elf-knight’s hand.

Involuntarily, he tightened himself around Elrohir’s thick shaft and in so doing wrenched the last vestige of control the Elf-knight still possessed over his own body. Gasping, Elrohir buried himself to the hilt and spilt his seed deep within the one and only being with whom he had ever shared more than just his body or the merest fraction of his mind or heart.

They stayed joined for a long while, relishing the feeling of wondrous closeness their couplings always wrought. When Elrohir finally withdrew from him, Legolas could not bear even the fleeting separation and at once turned into the twin’s arms and sank gratefully into his embrace. There was no haven on Middle-earth like the Elf-knight’s caring arms.

Kisses were pressed to his golden crown. A hand so strong it could break an Orc’s neck, stroked his hair with utmost gentleness. Legolas nuzzled his face against Elrohir’s throat then nibbled at a hard shoulder, ghosting his lips over the silvery scar upon it, a memento of the twin’s years in errantry.

“I am glad you are no longer enraged with me,” he murmured, breaking the silence at last.

Elrohir sighed and bestowed a tender kiss on his brow. “I was not enraged with you,” he amended. “I was only overcome with fear for your safety. Had the hobbits not spoken first, I would have offered to join the company as well.” He smiled sadly at Legolas’ expression of surprise and the ensuing disappointment. “‘Twas this denial of my desire to be with you on this hazardous journey that made me less than amiable earlier. And, yea, some displeasure that you did not await my return ere making so grievous a choice.”

“After you asked me to abstain,” Legolas quietly finished. “I confess, I did not dare wait. Not that I do not cherish your counsel but I knew you would seek to stop me. I could not risk that.”

He winced when Elrohir ceased to stroke his hair but relaxed when he was only held more tightly. “I suspected that to be the case,” Elrohir said in a low voice. “Yet if there was something I could say that might yet change your mind, I would utter it.”

At length, the younger twin released him though not entirely for while he urged them both to sit up, he drew Legolas against his shoulder. The archer looked curiously at him, recognizing the signs of an impending talk of considerable gravity.

“There is yet another reason for my distress over your choice,” the twin quietly said. “If I do not wish for you to walk into peril, ‘tis because I cannot bear losing you.” He stroked the archer’s cheek, biting his lip before continuing. “I had not thought to broach this matter to you so suddenly but time is not on our side. I would have you know this truth before you leave.”

“What truth?” Legolas softly queried, wondering at Elrohir’s uncertainty. It was so unlike the warrior not to be confident of the course he was taking.

“That my heart has long been in your keeping though you did not know it,” Elrohir murmured.

Legolas stiffened then pulled away to turn and stare at the warrior in patent shock. He sought to speak but no words emerged and he could only continue to stare at his lover. Noting Legolas’ startled reaction, Elrohir strove to be clearer about his meaning.

“The words have never been said but in truth a formal binding would only affirm what is here,” he said, briefly placing his clenched fist over his heart. “I love you, my Greenleaf. I have belonged to you these many years, heart, body and spirit. How could I not begrudge parting from you now?”

Legolas swallowed hard, his eyes clouded by confusion. After a moment, he turned and looked down at his capable archer’s hands where they lay on his lap and clenched them briefly. He had not expected such a confession. Indeed, he had never even thought of his centuries-long relationship with the Elf-knight in that guise. All these years, he had known the comfort and caring of their closeness even unto the binding of their bodies.

But not their hearts.

He had never considered what other emotions might lurk within his heart, much less Elrohir’s. Had not taken his own feelings apart and examined them for more than the deep platonic affection he harbored for his dearest friend, his inexplicable lust for the warrior notwithstanding. He had simply regarded their admittedly unique relationship as a rarely bestowed blessing from the Powers and accepted it as such. With much gratitude and appreciation but no more. He had not expected romantic love to encroach on the comfortable intimacy he shared with Elrohir.

His mind in turmoil, he did not pause to consider the effects of whatever words he might utter. And so he said the first thing that made any sense to him in his befuddlement.

“You would resort to a jest just to dissuade me from leaving on this venture!” he blurted out.

Silence greeted his reply. Fraught silence. And then he felt the bed dip as Elrohir left it. He turned his head sharply in time to see the Elf-knight catch up his robe and don it. Speechless at first, he watched the warrior head for the door. He found his tongue when the twin opened it.

“Elrohir!” he cried out in alarm. “Where are you going?”

Elrohir stopped. It was a breathless moment before he glanced over his shoulder at the archer. Legolas felt his heart lurch painfully at the anguish he saw in the argent depths.

“‘Twas no jest, ernilen”—my prince—Elrohir said in a hushed voice.

And then he was gone leaving Legolas to stare in stricken silence at the door, his heart pounding madly before it sank to the pit of his suddenly unruly stomach.

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

Glossary:

Ringarë – Quenya for December

To be continued…
- 10
- 11
- 12
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond