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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26421 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Chapter XIII

The days flew by with a swiftness Legolas could not like. Not when each rising of the sun brought his sojourn in Rivendell closer to its end ere he felt it had truly begun. But that was the nature of true love. Reunions however sweet and fervent never quite seemed enough to make up for lengthy partings.

“I cannot believe 'tis almost autumn,” he was heard to complain more than once. “Why does time have to pass so swiftly when one is enjoying one's self?”

Even the bubbly presence of the twins' infant sister born the previous year could not mute the sharp pang of their impending separation. True, Arwen was a lively distraction, demanding as she was of everyone's attention and affection. Certainly she was a novelty of sorts to the woodland princes who had never known the joys and rigors of growing up with a sibling of the female variety. Why, Nimaras despite himself could not help being fascinated with the little elleth though he took pains not to be seen displaying his curiosity overmuch.

But delightful a babe as Arwen was, she could not mitigate Legolas' unhappiness. No, not even the chance to mark his 43rd begetting day with his Elf-knight was much solace. Now that he had gained Elrohir's assurance of requited love, all the more did he yearn to be constantly with him and for longer lengths of time than of old.

“I miss my first visit here,” he murmured one lazy afternoon as they lounged together in one of the reading alcoves in the library. “I spent a whole year with you, Elrohir. 'Twas a most wonderful time for me.”

“For me as well,” Elrohir agreed, brushing strands of golden hair from the prince's forehead. Legolas was still not fond of plaiting his long tresses and went without as often as possible. “But take comfort from the certainty that when we bind, our times together will be counted in years and not mere months.”

“That cheers me greatly,” Legolas admitted. “Yet I wish we need never part at all. Spouses should spend their lives together, not reside in separate realms.”

Elrohir sighed. “Were we not our fathers' sons, that would be feasible. But it is our fates to put duty and the welfare of our folk first while we still dwell east of the Sea.”

Legolas looked at him curiously. Sitting up a little straighter, he said: “I just realized that you have not spoken of the choice of the Half-elven. Not even yours.” He eyed Elrohir a little anxiously. “Surely, since you have asked me to bind to you, that means that you are inclined to follow your father's example?”

Elrohir smiled. “I am. But I would like to make my formal avowal with Elladan. I hope you do not mind if I delay on his account.”

“Elladan is not yet decided?”

“He has no compelling reason to choose either way just yet. Though I warrant it may be another prince out of Greenwood who will prove persuasive enough to convince him to take the straight road.”

Legolas shook his head. “But they have not even progressed beyond the bounds of friendship and so cautiously at that. I know Galvreth is eager for much more. What stays Elladan?”

“His reluctance to give up his freedom so soon,” Elrohir replied. “He fears Galvreth will be too great a temptation should he give in to his desires this soon. But after all, he has seen how well one woodland prince has thoroughly ensorcelled his brother. How can he be certain that he will be immune to just such another when his own twin was not?”

Legolas flushed with pleasure at the implicit compliment. He happily sank into the Elf-knight's arms, closing his eyes in bliss when Elrohir bestowed a number of tender kisses on his temple and cheeks. Thankfully, he was in a languid mood and did not try to initiate a bout of improper behavior. Though most of the residents of the Last Homely House already suspected them of unchaste conduct, Elrohir did not care to supply them with visual evidence of their less than innocent dealings. Least of all in a chamber meant for the pursuit of higher learning or the satisfaction of curiosity of the intellectual kind.

Not that they spent the entire spring and summer in naught but the indulgence of their passion for each other. Elrohir was ever conscious of his primary role as guide and teacher to his betrothed and Legolas did not forget the other purpose for his sojourn in the elven refuge. For never did Thranduil's sons come away from Rivendell without some new gleaning of knowledge or skill unless they willfully ignored or declined what was freely offered. In this Haldoron had excelled and Nimaras looked fit to follow in his less than estimable footsteps.

He did not go out of his way to antagonize the valley folk as his eldest brother had done on occasion but neither did he bother to keep company with them and usually behaved with such condescension that they did not seek his company either. As such it oft fell to the twins to provide him with non-fraternal companionship even if it went against their very grain.

Elladan did his best to spare his brother the trouble of constant vigilance when in Nimaras' presence. But when duty called the older twin away, Elrohir always exercised utmost caution when dealing with the bronze-haired Elf.

He strove to avoid discussing topics that might instigate an argument or spat. And always did he ensure that either Elivorn or Galvreth were about lest Nimaras bring some charge of wrongdoing against him. That would pit his word against the former's and that could lead to rancor and distrust. And so he deemed it wisest to always have others around to bear witness to the propriety of his comportment with the fifth-born prince.

He did not fear Nimaras. But he did abhor the thought of Legolas belatedly bearing the brunt of his brother's ire because of something Elrohir might have said or done.

Nimaras however conducted himself with restraint, keeping his sarcasm and quick temper in check for the most part. That was not to say that he made no biting comments or waspish remarks to either Elrohir or Legolas. But he did abstain from indulging his usual propensity for venomous pronouncements or malicious asides. Still and all, Elrohir did not lower his guard. Better to overdo caution than later rue undeserved leniency.

His wariness was not without basis. He was aware that in Eryn Galen there had been a few attempts to besmirch his name in the hopes of dimming Legolas' regard for him. But for the prince's unstinting refusal to listen to the Elf-knight's detractors, Elrohir knew that the latter's ranks would have swollen enough to ensure that his name would be so blackened that no amount of polishing would ever return it to its pristine state. But Legolas had shut his ears to those who sought to malign him and even turned on them in umbrage and that had nipped any more efforts to disrupt their betrothal in the bud.

Elrohir could not blame the would-be interlopers. Thranduil's prognostics were proving most accurate. So beauteous and noble of bearing was his youngest son that he was coveted by nearly every eligible Elf in the forest kingdom. More than ever, his betrothal to Elrond's son was heartily rued by those nursing either higher ambitions or baser motives.

When he held his woodland prince in his arms and knew his worshipful affection, Elrohir could only thank the Powers for the good fortune of having been gifted with so precious a lover. And he prayed that nothing untoward would occur to tarnish their relationship. Like Legolas, he cherished every moment they spent together and looked forward to the day when they could abide together as avowed mates and the lengths of their partings would be briefer than their times of oneness.

Alas, the eve of the Greenwood princes' departure finally arrived and with lamentable speed in the lovers' eyes. With heavy hearts, they did their best to steel themselves against the loneliness that was sure to follow once they were apart. Strange how a simple declaration of mutual affection could affect them so that what they had endured afore with equability they now braced themselves for with dread.

As was their custom, the woodland princes invited the brethren for an evening of convivial talk and drink out on the garden porch. With their departure on the morrow, they could drop their self-imposed deportment for one night and behave as they wished. One stricture remained in place however. Until he reached his majority, Legolas could imbibe only a flask's worth of ale, no more than a cup of miruvor and absolutely none of the Dorwinion wine their father had sent them toward the end of their stay.

The last was a delicious but particularly potent libation that was guaranteed to reduce Dwarves to gibbering idiocy, Men to under-the-table insensibility and Elves to unwonted tipsiness even when consumed in moderation. Elves not yet of age were not permitted to partake of the heady liquor at all. But that was a justifiable precaution for the constitutions of young Edhil were not as tolerant of the effects of alcohol and a brew of the strength of Dorwinion wine could wreak havoc on their physical wellbeing.

Sure enough, Legolas complained of feeling just a tad light-headed before too long. Elivorn promptly bade him to return to his room and sleep his mild wooziness off. Legolas rose from his seat with so forlorn an expression that Elrohir offered to escort him thence. The others save for Nimaras grinned at the sudden revival of Legolas' spirits upon receipt of the offer.

They made their way to the princes' suite, arms around each other, mounting the stairs in leisurely fashion as if to delay the moment when they must part for the night. But hardly had they entered Legolas' room when the prince turned about and wrapped his arms tightly around Elrohir, pressing his face against his shoulder.

“I'm going to miss you so much,” he whispered, his voice raw with melancholy. “I have always hated being parted from you but 'tis worse even now. How can I bear the waiting? Why must we desist, Elrohir? Why can you not take me now?”

Elrohir forced himself to speak past the tightness in his throat. “You know full well why that is not possible, Legolas. Would you break your father's trust in us? In me?”

“Yet the memory of your loving would go far in sustaining me,” Legolas mournfully said. “Eru help me but I love you so much it almost hurts.” He sealed his lips to Elrohir's, drawing out the kiss until they were both breathing quite heavily.

Unmindful of the others still awaiting Elrohir's return, the young archer pulled him toward the bed. Mayhap the feeling of bereavement at his beloved's imminent departure played the greatest part in Elrohir's choices. Or the knowledge that Legolas' urgency was driven more by love than lust. Or it could have been the alcohol he had consumed - not sufficient to render him drunken but enough to lower his usual self-possession. Most likely it was a combination of all these factors that impelled him to take unprecedented action.

He did not protest when Legolas insistently led him to the bed and even permitted the prince to pull him down atop him. It did not take long before they were locked in a spate of searing kisses and scalding caresses and Elrohir could not resist plying his lips and tongue on the smooth, white flesh of Legolas' throat, eliciting the sweetest sounds he had ever had the pleasure to hear from the archer. He felt the upward thrust of the prince's hips and sensed his desperation and frustration. Indeed, ever since Elrohir had made his admission of love their trysts had been fraught with just such simmering emotions. But some minute shard of sense still remained to the Elf-knight and he managed to retain his resolve not to sully his betrothed any further than had already occurred.

Marshalling his last shreds of self-control, he opted for a much more intimate approach to pleasuring Legolas but still stopped short of actually coupling with him. Reaching between their bodies, he yanked the prince's breech laces loose and released his straining shaft. Before Legolas could guess what he was about, he moved down the archer's body and without a word closed his lips around the rosy column of flesh that rose proudly from its bed of golden curls.

Legolas gave a strangled gasp, shocked by the unfamiliar sensation of wet warmth engulfing him so snugly. Losing himself completely in the rapture of Elrohir's knowing ministrations, he bucked helplessly into the mouth that drew upon him, one hand buried in the Elf-knight's raven mane, the other clutching the sheet beneath him so tightly it was a wonder he did not tear it asunder. Soft cries and whimpered moans escaped the prince as he was brought closer and closer to a peak of ecstasy he had not previously experienced.

He spent himself with a sobbing cry, shuddering his release into the younger twin's mouth. It was many seconds before he could bring himself to open his eyes and face the starkness of reality once more after having known such soaring bliss. Only when Elrohir drew him into his arms did he do so and that was only so that he could look upon his beloved's countenance.

“That was - that was unbelievable,” he rasped. “Ai, Elrohir, never have I felt such - such rapture.” Kissing the twin, he tasted his own seed and started in disconcertment. He drew back, his face suddenly aflame. “You swallowed - I mean…” he stuttered. “Elrohir, did you - did you truly wish to do that?”

Elrohir softly chuckled. “Rest assured that I did,” he murmured, pressing his lips to a rosy cheek. “Indeed I look forward to the day when I might know your favors in full. I expect I will be more than compensated for all my waiting.”

“Oh.” Legolas fell silent for a moment, burying his burning face in the Elf-knight's neck. Snuggling against Elrohir, he inadvertently nudged the twin's groin with his thigh. Elrohir tried to stifle his groan at having his own still unrelieved shaft prodded. But Legolas heard and quickly perceived the cause of his distress.

“Let me do the same for you,” he said, hurriedly undoing Elrohir's breeches. Elrohir stopped him from proceeding further however.

“Nay, I have already transgressed enough,” the twin protested. “Let us not add to my list of sins, long as it is to date.”

When Legolas saw how adamant he was on this regard, he relented and resorted to their usual way of pleasuring each other instead.

“But surely you do not object to this,” he whispered, sneaking his hand into Elrohir's breeches. He did not give Elrohir a chance to respond either in consent or dissent but kissed him ardently while he fondled and stroked him to completion.

**********

When Elrohir at last made his way back to the others, he perforce had to put up with their amused innuendos. He had taken much too long in seeing Legolas to his room and the archer's brothers made their suspicions of the reasons behind the delay quite clear. Fortunately, they did not take him to task for what had clearly been a lusty interlude with their youngest sibling, not even Nimaras though he obviously was not pleased either.

“Is our brother proving too gamesome for you?” Elivorn snickered as the younger twin sat down beside Elladan.

Elrohir rolled his eyes in resignation at having to put up with much teasing for the rest of the evening, his cheeks reddening somewhat despite his attempt at nonchalance.

“Oh pish, Elivorn,” Galvreth laughed, tossing Elrohir a cup. “I warrant 'tis not Legolas' playfulness that has our esteemed Elf-knight all hot and bothered but the abominable timing of it!”

Elladan joined in their mirth earning him a glare from his brother. Feeling a little embattled, Elrohir silently debated the prudence of taking to his bed soonest. For one thing, he was not quite up to fending off their lubricious jibes however harmless they were - even Nimaras deigned to toss in a jape or two albeit a touch sarcastically. For another, he was nursing a discomfort that could only be taken care of in the privacy of his bedchamber.

He had not told Legolas that, despite his release, his shaft had not grown completely lax. Simply put, his body was not fully content. Even now the luscious tang of the young prince's seed lingered on his tongue and thus inspired the renewed arousal of his desire. It was as if his admission of love for Legolas spurred his body into clamoring for much more than a mere hand's touch. It wanted oneness. It desired a joining of far more closeness. He began to wonder whether it would have been better to allow Legolas to pleasure him as he had the prince.

Elrohir quickly rebuked himself for even entertaining the thought. He could not allow Legolas to take him into his body in any manner. Not until the prince's majority, he firmly reminded himself. But his self-chastisement did not eradicate the continued hardness of his shaft. Not so long as he could still taste Legolas' seed on his tongue.

Desperate to banish the reason for his problem, he reached for the Dorwinion wine and poured himself a brimming cupful. He downed the rich liquid with scarcely an intake of breath. The diminishment of the taste of his comely prince in his mouth engendered a slight depletion of his nether stiffness. Eager for complete relief, he poured himself another cup prompting Galvreth to caution him half-jestingly.

“Have a care, meldiren!”-my friend!-he said. “That is not watered ale for you to quaff it so straightly!”

“Aye, 'tis strong enough to down an Elf,” Elivorn added. “What more one of the half-blood? Elladan, do talk some sense into him.”

Elrohir nodded his acknowledgement of their warnings but drank his second cupful nonetheless though with a little less haste. A third was not long in following.

Elladan chuckled and, patting him on the back, remarked: “Really, Elrohir, a dip in the Bruinen would work more swiftly and without the threat of a raging headache come morning!”

Galvreth and Elivorn guffawed upon realizing what ailed the Elf-knight but Nimaras shook his head with what seemed to be distaste. Neither twin nor his brothers paid him any mind, accustomed as they were to his ready contrariness to anything he deemed not to his liking.

Elrohir winced when his fourth cup yielded him both an abated arousal and a none-too-steady head. “I had best call it a night,” he said, flinching inwardly when he heard the slight slurring in his speech.

He rose to his feet rather gingerly lest a sudden movement send him stumbling to his knees. Elladan caught him by the arm and he looked back to find his twin regarding him with some concern.

“Methinks you will find it hard going to get to your room without tripping over your feet,” Elladan commented. “Let me help you thence.”

Flushing at the smothered laughter of the others, Elrohir firmly demurred, embarrassed that his inebriation should be witnessed by the princes, more so since they knew just why he had indulged himself too fulsomely.

“I can manage by myself,” he insisted. “Stay with our guests, tôren.”-my brother. “After all, 'tis their last night here.”

A flick of his eyes made it clear he was referring to one guest in particular.

Elladan grinned faintly and nodded. “Very well. Be off with you then.”

But several minutes later, as he sought to negotiate the stairs, Elrohir realized he should have accepted his brother's help after all. Elbereth, the wine was not only potent but also acted with as much speed as miruvor. Only miruvor did not set one's head spinning and make it difficult to plant one foot in front of the other with any semblance of symmetry.

He finally made it to the second floor but with much difficulty and many a pause for steadiness on the way. And when he peered down the lamp-lit corridor, his door seemed impossibly far away to his liquor-befuddled senses. He took a determined step forward and staggered sideways instead, barely avoiding a complete fall by leaning against the wall. Cursing himself for letting pride get in the way of brotherly assistance, he made another attempt to walk toward his room. This time it was not the wall that saved him from falling but a strong grip on his arm.

He was pulled back from his near tumble and turned to find himself facing an amused Nimaras.

“What - what are you doing here?” Elrohir managed to ask, too tipsy to don his usual cool demeanor with the bronze-haired prince.

“I, too, seem to have imbibed far more than I can tolerate,” Nimaras replied. “Dorwinion wine is a treacherous brew I must say.” He looked down the corridor. “Is it just me or is the hallway longer than I remember?”

“'Tis that damn wine,” Elrohir retorted. He pulled his arm from Nimaras' grasp and turned to go. The prince caught him just in time to keep him from slumping to the floor. He vaguely noticed that the woodland Elf seemed just a trifle unsteady himself.

Nimaras giggled at their shared strait. “Come, let us lean against each other and mayhap we shall reach our rooms still upright,” he said. “I have no wish to be found flat on my face on the hallway floor by the housekeeping staff tomorrow morn!”

Elrohir peered owlishly at him then nodded in agreement. The motion abruptly sent his head spinning and he swayed then lurched forward. Nimaras' suggestion was the last thing he recalled of the evening with any lucidity worth mentioning.

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

Glossary:

elleth - Elf-maid

miruvor - the cordial of Rivendell

Edhil - Elves

To be continued…
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness