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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4275 -:- 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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Chapter XV: Morning’s Embrace

The Citadel was dark for it was way past the midnight hour. The guards stared into the darkness, their ears and eyes alert for anything beyond the usual, ready to challenge any presence that did not belong there. But none of them heard the feet that swiftly traversed the stone pavement or saw the slight figure that passed through the gate under their very noses and melded with the shadows in the Court of the Fountain. With an ease that spoke of great familiarity with his surroundings, the intruder made his way into the royal pavilion and hurried down a dim corridor with nary a sound. It stopped at one particular door.

Legolas stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He silently passed through the sitting room and entered the bedchamber. Only the moonlight from the balcony and windows illuminated the chamber. He walked to the bedside table and set alight the single taper upon it. As the wick burst into flame, he looked down at Elrohir.

The Elf-knight lay on his side, his obsidian mane spilling about his shoulders and upon the pillow like a mantle of darkest silk. In the flickering light, Legolas could see the disquiet in the perfect even if drawn features of the twin. Though asleep, he was not at peace. A slight frown marred his fine brow and the sable lashes were still damp from recently shed tears. The archer realized he must have just fallen into this troubled repose.

He looked utterly alone and painfully vulnerable. And to the prince’s newly enlightened eyes he was achingly, bewitchingly, incomparably beautiful.

He swallowed hard then stifled a groan when he felt the heat pool in his groin at the very thought of claiming the Elf-knight for his own. He fought to still the tremors that threatened to weaken his limbs. By Elbereth, he was no chaste maiden on her wedding night! He was a warrior, learned in all the ways of loving save one. And this last one he intended to master before the night was done.

Legolas sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the other’s cheek with the back of his hand. He knew Elrohir’s war-honed senses, not yet completely lulled by deep slumber, would alert him to the presence of an intruder. He did not wait long. One moment, Elrohir was fast asleep, oblivious of his surroundings. The next moment he had jerked awake, grabbing at the wrist of the hand that touched him. He stared up at the face he beheld.

“‘Tis only me.”

Elrohir blinked in disbelief, his mind still dulled by sleep. “Legolas?” He struggled to sit up but Legolas placed a hand on his chest and kept him from rising any further.

“What are you doing here?” Elrohir asked thickly. “You should have been in Ithilien by now.”

“I turned back.”

“Turned back? Why did you do that?”

In answer, the prince bent over him and kissed him on the mouth. Elrohir was rendered motionless by surprise. Then he felt the hand on his chest firmly pushing him down onto his pillows. Any residual grogginess promptly vanished as his lips were forced apart and his mouth invaded and tasted with a voraciousness that left him bereft of breath and sense. To his shock, slender fingers set to nimbly unlacing the ties on the loose shirt and trousers he had taken to wearing as his waning rendered him susceptible even to the pleasant coolness of early autumn.

Bewildered, he attempted to stop the other Elf. But his hands were caught in a strong grip and pushed down at either side of his shoulders. Weakened as he was by his grief, his strength was no longer equal to the archer’s. Legolas continued to undress him, silencing him with his lips whenever he tried to protest.

“What are you doing?” he finally managed to get a few words in.

“Hush,” the prince whispered. “Just let me.”

“Let you—?” Another kiss effectively cut him off.

Elrohir’s head spun in confusion. He wanted to know why Legolas had returned, why he was doing this, why he would even want to in the first place. But he could not pull his thoughts into any coherent pattern for long. Not when Legolas’ lips and tongue explored his flesh as it was bared. Or when shining hair brushed seductively against his skin while a beguiling woodsy scent filled his nostrils. And when the prince quickly stripped then molded his slender form against his, all was lost and he finally gave up trying to forge anything in his mind, lucid or not. He surrendered and let Legolas do with him as he wished.

With new but well-learned skill, audacious Greenwood subdued, ravished, took possession of the hallowed center of noble Imladris.

Elrohir moaned as the prince trailed hungry kisses over his neck and throat, gasped when he sucked hard at the roseate nipples that graced his smooth muscled chest, groaned as the finely boned hands roamed over his body all too knowingly and intimately. For the first time in a long lifetime of carnal exploration, he lay helpless, submitting to another’s demands. It was partly his physical decline, partly the peremptory manner in which Legolas had taken control.

He shivered as the archer moved steadily down his body, tasting, it seemed, every inch of skin along the way. Elrohir was thoroughly befuddled. What has come over him? Why this hunger? He was abruptly shaken out of his cerebral meanderings when he felt himself enclosed in the moist warmth of the prince’s mouth.

“Legolas!” Shocked, unbelieving, he reached down to the golden head to grasp the other’s shoulders.

The prince gripped his wrists and pinned them down. He looked up at the dazed twin, his sapphire eyes meeting the Elf-knight’s grey gaze.

Elrohir stared at the archer. He did not recall ever seeing Legolas’ eyes so lust-darkened. And then the prince took him once more into his mouth and he fell back against his pillow shuddering with the sensation.

Legolas proved an excellent student. Everything Elrohir had ever done to him he now employed more than ably on his erstwhile teacher. And found he enjoyed it immensely. The very taste and feel of Elrohir maddened him. Now that he had unshackled his heart and given it free rein, it opened his eyes and the full measure of Elrohir’s radiance was thus revealed to him. Overcome, he found the darkling Elf utterly irresistible.

Whether he was plundering the honeyed reaches of his silky mouth, pillaging the sinewy plains of his slender torso or ravaging the luscious column of his proud length, he could not decide which he savored most. Everything about Elrohir pleased his senses, heated his blood, roused his predatory instincts. And it was intoxicating to see the Elf-rider lose command of himself; gratifying for he knew just how rarely the twin relinquished dominance in any matter.

Under such edacious handling, Elrohir soon found himself perilously close to exploding. He did not know how Legolas would deal with his release. He hoped it would not prove unpleasant for the prince this first time. Not that he could hold back any longer. His usual control deserted him and he finally gave in, spending himself in the archer’s warm mouth.

He lay with his eyes closed, panting, striving to regain some semblance of order in his being. He felt Legolas move to straddle him and he opened his eyes to stare at the golden-maned Elf. He colored slightly when he saw the other’s lips glisten tellingly. The archer’s mouth curled into a smile in response to the rosiness that stained the warrior’s cheeks.

“Had I known how delightful this could be I would have tried it centuries ago,” he teased huskily.

Elrohir’s bafflement deepened. “I do not understand,” he murmured unsteadily. “Why are you doing this?”

Crystalline eyes raked his tall frame with a curious mix of salaciousness and reverence then returned to regard his endearingly bemused countenance. “I want you, Aduial. I would take you if you will let me,” Legolas whispered.

Elrohir’s eyes widened. He’d never yielded to Legolas for the prince had not shown a proclivity to take that position with him. Admittedly, that had relieved him. It was something he’d never allowed with anyone for to submit to another was alien to his nature. But now Legolas did want it and he knew it was not in him to deny the one Elf who owned his heart. He swallowed hard and tried to calm himself. Wordlessly, he nodded.

Legolas noted his unease and wondered at it. “Have you never let anyone take you before?” he queried in some disbelief.

“Nay,” Elrohir admitted whisperingly.

Legolas gazed at him with fast burgeoning elation. “I suppose this should not surprise me,” he said. “Your pride would never let you submit to anyone.”

With a wicked smile, he slipped a pillow beneath Elrohir’s hips then parted the Elf-knight’s legs further and moved down purposely between them. Elrohir grasped convulsively at the sheets then uttered a guttural groan when he felt Legolas’ tongue pierce him. It had been ages since he’d last allowed any to caress him thusly and those had been his first bed-teachers. But none had been as aggressive as Legolas, tasting of him far more deeply and possessively than any previous lover ever had. Pleasure snaked its way through his nerves and his quiescent shaft came to life anew.

He could not help flinching when a seed-slickened finger replaced the prince’s tongue soon followed by more. There was no hint of hesitation in the deft fingers, no uncertainty in the slender hands as Legolas accustomed him to the sensation of penetration just as he had done for the archer his first time of submission. He hissed as the intrusion became more pronounced and his vulnerability more apparent. And then rapture crept through his limbs once more as Legolas stroked him where he was most sensitive. He bit back a moan, could not stifle another as the prince continued his peerless ministrations.

All the while, Legolas peppered his belly, groin and thighs with lusty kisses and playful bites, pausing to suckle teasingly at his reawakened shaft. The miniscule part of Elrohir’s mind that was still sentient pondered the prince’s ability to recall in detail virtually everything he had done to him in the past. Not to mention his unexpected creativity in an act he’d had the opportunity to experience with Elrohir alone.

He had to close his eyes when Legolas lifted his hips and legs, shifting him into position. He involuntarily held his breath when he felt the archer press against him only to release it in a startled gasp when Legolas breached him in one swift, sure thrust. His eyes flew open to stare at the archer.

Legolas was gazing at him with something akin to exultation. The sapphire pools were nearly black with passion. “You do not know how much this pleases me, Elf-knight,” he growled. “To claim the one part of you still untouched by any other...your pride has served me well!” he almost crowed.

Elrohir barely had time to register the unexpected words before the archer began to move. He drew his breath in sharply as Legolas sought and found the exact spot that caused lightning streaks of pleasure to course through his body. He felt the prince’s hand on his shaft, stroking him confidently, rhythmically, with each pounding thrust. Elrohir pressed back against the pillows, shaking as exquisite sensation rushed through his very veins. It was useless trying to hold on to any control at all.

“Legolas, this-this is too m-much!“ he rasped as his body neared the end of its tether.

“Then let go, Aduial!”

The archer’s words were like a trigger and, panting raggedly, Elrohir surrendered to his body’s need. Stars exploded behind his closed eyes as he shuddered uncontrollably, his body surging with indescribable rapture. Instinctively, he tightened his muscles around Legolas’ shaft, giving in to his body’s need to heighten the singular sensation of pleasurable fullness even further. And the throes of his climax flowed from him to sweep over his lover.

Legolas’ breath caught as he felt the Elf-knight’s powerful muscles clench around him. He had not known, never imagined that could happen. The sensation was astounding. It was almost excruciating in its intensity. It was absolute bliss. And coupled with that now familiar echo of pleasure that resonated through him, it was exquisite beyond description.

Elrohir heard Legolas’ feral groan of completion, felt the prince sink deep and hard into him with one last plunge, and experienced for the first time the sensation of liquid heat spilling deep within him.

After several heartbeats, the archer withdrew from him, reluctantly it seemed for he certainly took his time doing so. As his senses sought their peripatetic way back to normalcy, the Elf-lord finally opened his eyes and saw that Legolas was bent over him, bracing himself with his strong arms on either side of the twin’s shoulders. He, too, was breathing heavily but there was no doubting that he’d relished the reason for it.

The archer’s eyes bore into him with – what? Satisfaction? Triumph? Elrohir could not make heads or tails of what had just happened. “Why?” he whispered.

His answer was a deep kiss that only confounded him further. Legolas drew away with a gratified sigh, then shifted off him. Elrohir stared at the enigmatic prince as the latter pulled him into a tender embrace so that they faced each other.

Though he was already struggling against his exhausted body’s demand for sleep, he tried once more. “Legolas, please, what is it you—?”

A finger on his lips silenced him. “You need to rest,” the prince crooned softly. “We can speak of this tomorrow.”

Elrohir gave up. He was in no condition to insist. He was just too drained at the moment. His eyelids fluttered then closed. The last thing he remembered was a gentle kiss upon his forehead and a whispered, “Sleep well, my brave one.”

When Elrohir awoke at dawn the following day, his first drowsy thought was that he had had the most improbable dream. But he started when he felt the bite of the chilly morning air upon his skin and came awake with a snap. He was naked and his clothing was on the floor beside the bed. He sat up quickly; the sudden movement caused an unaccustomed ache to course through his lower body and he winced. But he felt strangely invigorated, as if he had passed through the depths of a shadow into the golden light of a new day. How...?

His heart pounding, Elrohir let memory wash over him like a wave. Elbereth, ‘twas no dream! Still in shock, he noticed a small piece of parchment upon the pillow at his side. He took it up. There was just one word on it written in flowing elvish script.

Elrohir rose from his bed and swiftly dressed. Within minutes he was hurrying out of his chamber, pulling his cloak about his shoulders. He was still affected by his recent grief and was, for now, vulnerable to the elements. Mindful of the prince’s apparent desire to keep his presence unmarked by the denizens of the Citadel, he took care to slip past all the sentries sight unseen.

He left the City and climbed up the steep path to the high field on Mindolluin where he had declared his feelings to Legolas more than a year ago. All the while, his thoughts swirled around in his head and questions abounded. He reached the field and saw Legolas standing near its edge, gazing out at the Pellenor. The Elf’s eyes were unfocused, as if he were in deep thought or lost in a dream. Elrohir slowly approached him.

“Legolas?” he hesitantly said. The blue eyes lost their vacant stare. Legolas turned his gaze upon the twin. Elrohir was startled by the look in them. “Are you all right?” he asked, now hurrying forward.

Legolas smiled tremulously then caught his hand in his. “I hope you did not mind my leaving you before you woke,” he murmured. “But I needed the time to prepare this.”

Elrohir stared at the large basket the archer indicated where it rested under the shade of a slender tree. A basket filled with crusty bread, sharp cheese, fresh fruit and sweet mead.

“I thought you might enjoy breaking your fast here...with me.”

Elrohir felt his bewilderment increase. Why this attention to his needs? What was going on? He peered wonderingly at the archer and thereby caught the merest flicker of uncertainty in the depths of his eyes.

“Are you all right?” he repeated.

The prince went still. And then he half laughed, half sighed. “All right? I do not know. I...” The Elf-knight grew worried. He rarely saw Legolas so unsure. “Elrohir, I am afraid,” the archer suddenly whispered.

Elrohir was astonished. “Afraid of what?” he said.

“Of what I feel.” Legolas drew in a deep breath. “You asked last night why I returned.”

Elrohir nodded. “It seemed strange that you turned back when you were already so near home.”

“Nay, it did not feel like home. Something was missing.” Legolas struggled with what he would say. It was more difficult than he had expected and he found he could not come to the point as quickly as he would have liked or should have. “I left Minas Tirith with a heavy heart and it refused to lighten even when we came to Ithilien. I realized then that this was because what I wanted was not there but here. I could not stay away.” He let out a regretful breath. “I should have listened to Aragorn and not left in the first place.”

An awful suspicion formed in Elrohir’s mind. “Aragorn?” he managed to repeat. He stared at the prince with bated breath.

“Aye, when he saw me off yesterday, he urged me to stay and mend things with you,” Legolas said ruefully. “His love for you is such that he scored me quite severely for abandoning you.”

Incredible pain surged through his very being as Elrohir considered Legolas’ words. He hardly paid attention to the rest of the archer’s account.

“And Arwen was even worse. She—”

“Sweet Eru, is that why you came to me?” Elrohir cut in tightly. “And I thought...” He could not finish his sentence.

Legolas looked at him, startled by the raw agony in the warrior’s eyes. “Elrohir—?”

Elrohir suddenly made a sound that was a cross between a harsh sob and a bitter laugh. “I should have known,” he said, his voice shaking. “You esteem him so highly you could not endure the loss of his regard even if it meant playing whore to my needs!” His eyes suddenly gleamed with anguish and betrayal. Oblivious of the archer’s shocked reaction, he snapped: “You should not have come back, Legolas. I have no need for false comfort!”

In a flash, Legolas realized what his careless words had wrought. Horrified, he grasped Elrohir’s wrist when the other turned to leave.

“Nay, Elrohir, ‘tis not what you think!” he exclaimed. “I returned because I missed you!” The Elvenlord stopped but did not turn around. “Aduial, please look at me.”

The twin did as he was bid but the eyes he cast upon the prince were wounded and wary. Legolas felt his heart ache for the other’s grief. Elrohir was so near breaking he could not summon even the faintest hope despite what Legolas had just revealed.

“I wanted you, Elrohir nîn”—my Elf-knight—Legolas said earnestly, tugging firmly at the twin’s hand.

Elrohir blinked at the possessive utterance of his name. Slowly, he allowed Legolas to pull him back. He was still cautious for he had suffered too many blows to let his guard down now. “I do not understand,” he said. “You said you came back because Estel—”

“I only meant that had I listened to him I would not have wasted so much time,” Legolas urgently explained. ”Had I stayed I could have been with you that much sooner. But I did not do this for him. I care not if his esteem for me is gone. ‘Tis you I desire, Elrohir, you and your love.”

His words pierced Elrohir’s caution. For the first time the twin’s eyes reflected just the tiniest spark of hope. It was enough for Legolas. He clasped the warrior’s hands in his and lifted them to his lips.

Elrohir felt a tremor course through his arms as Legolas almost reverently kissed the fine knuckles of his hands. The prince lifted his eyes and gazed at the Elf-knight.

“My heart is yours, Elrohir,” he softly declared.

The twin’s eyes widened incredulously.

“If you – if you... Do you still...want it?”

Elrohir let out his breath at the apprehensive, almost timorous query. The archer was virtually quaking in his boots, dreading that his long-held fear would still come to pass. That in finally giving his love, it would now be crushed and cast away.

Elrohir had always understood his lover’s fear. Legolas had long protected himself from being crushed by love’s vagaries by withholding himself from love. For him to deliver into anyone’s hands the power to hurt him was indeed a frightening experience. But to the Elf-knight, it was a most precious gift.

A gentle smile lit up Elrohir’s countenance. “Legolas, you are my heart,” he said quietly. At the archer’s quick intake of breath, he added softly, “Do you realize what day this is?”

Legolas looked at him wonderingly for a moment then started. His eyes lighted up in comprehension. “‘Tis your begetting day,” he said.

“Aye, and I had thought it would be the darkest day yet in all my life,” Elrohir said in a hushed voice. “But, the Valar be praised, ‘tis now one of the brightest for you have given me the only gift I ever desired.”

Legolas caught him to himself and held him tightly, burying his face in the Elf-knight’s sleek neck. His heart swelled and his spirit soared when the twin enfolded him in a snug embrace. Peace and contentment enveloped him like a warm mantle. It felt as if he had finally come home.

He was keenly aware of this almost undeserved blessing. Elrohir could have very well turned him away and no one would have blamed him, least of all Legolas himself. Indeed, it had gnawed at him as he awaited the twin’s arrival, torn as he’d been between hope and apprehension. For Elrohir’s acquiescence the night before, however glorious, had been no surety that he would accept Legolas after all that had passed between them.

He’d been weakened by his waning, taken unawares by the prince’s seduction. In the rousing brightness of day, his mind returned to full lucidity, there had been every chance of the Elf-knight deciding he wanted no more to do with so willful and difficult a lover. He could very well have spurned Legolas’ belated overtures.

It had terrified the woodland prince to the very foundations of his soul. For one thing he knew with certainty. He did not have Elrohir’s strength of heart. Not in this first and only venture into love’s reaches. Had his Twilight turned from him, he would have been lost.

He shivered as tender lips pressed against the side of his neck. A compelling need to confirm his acceptance, to prove that he did belong to Elrohir seared him. Turning his face, he looked into the warrior’s mithril-hued eyes.

“Love me,” he implored.

“Forever, Calenlassen,” came the sweet reply.

“Now, Aduial, love me now,” Legolas begged. “I would know that I am yours.”

Elrohir’s breath caught at the passionate plea. “ As you wish,” he whispered.

Legolas undid Elrohir’s cloak and upon drawing it from his shoulders, threw it down on the grass. In mutual desire, they joined in a kiss. Tender at first, the tentative beginning of a new phase in their relationship. But it could not remain so gentle. Before long, they were sealed in a burning caress that left them both shuddering. They sank down upon the mantle, their mouths still clinging.

It was nearly an hour later when they became aware once more of the world beyond. Legolas lifted his head from Elrohir’s shoulder to gaze at his lover. When Elrohir sensed his regard and returned the gaze, he brushed soft lips against the twin’s mouth.

“Thank you,” Elrohir whispered.

Legolas peered at him wonderingly. “For what?”

“For giving me your heart.”

The archer stared at him then shook his head. “‘Tis I who should be grateful,” he murmured. “Others would have given up on me long ago but you...” He pressed another kiss to his Elf-knight’s lips.

Elrohir was looking at him raptly when he drew back. “What gained your trust? What stayed your fear?” the twin softly asked. “I had thought you forever guarded.”

Legolas lowered his eyes, somewhat abashed by the question. “I have listened to my mind all these long years,” he murmured. “And always it counseled me to beware. To trust no one with my love. But on the way to Ithilien, I could not still my heart’s plea to be heard. And so I finally hearkened to it.”

“And?”

“It wanted you.” He lifted his eyes to meet Elrohir’s gaze. “It knew it would be safe with you. I realized then what a fool I’d been to fear your loving. I realized that if I lost you I would regret it forevermore.” The archer sighed. “Would that I had listened to my heart long ago,” he murmured repentantly.

Elrohir could not speak at first. But he looked at his beloved prince with such radiant affection as to rival the heat of Anór itself.

“The way you look at me...” Legolas whispered. “I pray it will always be thusly.”

Elrohir smiled. “Always, melethron.”—lover.

Undone, the archer eagerly sought anew his Elf-knight’s potent kisses. His sweet embrace. His incomparable loving.

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

Glossary:

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

Calenlassen - my Greenleaf

Anór - the sun

To be continued…
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince