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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26417 -:- 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.

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Chapter XV

Eryn Galen, ethuil T.A. 247

Gloom enshrouded the pathways leading to the elven realm within Eryn Galen. There was scant evidence of the normal cheer of a forest newly come awake with the passage of spring. No trilling birdcalls or chattering of squirrels to signal the return of beasts of air or land. And an odd scarcity of the vivid blooms and brightly verdant foliage that had heralded the onset of the season. The very air itself was thick and heavy with sorrow and regret. The grief of the Wood-elves permeated the woods with which they shared so close an affinity.

The Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm was dead and his brother now stood in his place.

The brethren Elladan and Elrohir gravely pondered the events that had taken the life of Thranduil's firstborn while they slowly made their way along the elven track that would bring them to the heart of the Silvan Elves' forest kingdom. They were aware of the eyes that marked their journey and of the silent scurry of feet as border guards hastened to send word of their advent to their king. But they took little notice for their thoughts were on the erstwhile heir to the woodland throne and their hearts sympathized with the father and brothers he had left behind.

They had just crossed Anduin when their party met Thranduil's messengers bearing the doleful news to Imladris. After apprising the twins of the tragedy, the messengers had continued on their sad errand while the brethren quickened their pace that they may reach Greenwood the Great soonest.

All it had taken to deprive the Woodland Realm of its heir apparent was an Orkish incursion. That and Haldoron's ill-founded cockiness. The late prince's overweening self-confidence had been instrumental in his untimely demise.

He had led a contingent of scouts in pursuit of a small band of Orcs that had trespassed on the Wood-elves' territory. Cautioned by his soldiers to be wary of possible reinforcements the further they ventured from the bounds of their realm, he had ignored the warnings nonetheless, his belief in elvish superiority in strength and skill overshadowing his good sense.

The result had been disastrous. And lethal.

Pursuer and pursued had encountered another Goblin band near the fringes of the north of the forest. Under different circumstances, the newcomers would very likely have turned on their fleeing comrades to divest them of what plunder they bore and turn them into the main meal of the day. For Orcs had no true loyalties after all. But they had common hates and their hatred of the Elves was one of the greatest of all the hates the Goblin tribes shared.

And so they had joined forces and by sheer numbers alone near overwhelmed the Wood-elves. Only the timely arrival of a troop of warriors led by Aelluin and Legolas had prevented a complete massacre. But not timely enough to spare Haldoron's life.

The twins considered the effect of his death on the Woodland Realm. Haldoron may not have been beloved of his people as his father was and some of his brothers. He had been far too stiff-necked and oftentimes over-proud even for the fiercely independent Silvan Elves' tastes. But he was still one of their own, an Elf of Eryn Galen and their monarch's eldest son and that was enough to garner him the heartfelt mourning of the woodland folk.

Their impending arrival was long known afore they reached the Elven-king's cavernous palace. Legolas came forth to welcome them as did Galvreth who of Thranduil's sons was counted closest to the twins save for his younger brother. But Aelluin came in his father's stead, the most obvious evidence of the great change in the royal hierarchy. The son Thranduil regarded as his de facto heir was now the Crown Prince in name as well.

Legolas did not stand on ceremony but flung himself into Elrohir's arms, his red-rimmed eyes attesting to his yet unspent grief. Elrohir looked at him wonderingly while he stroked his back and shoulders comfortingly. Haldoron had never forged a close friendship with Legolas. Likewise, Legolas had only kept scarce company with the eldest prince, put off by the former's aloofness and lack of interest in his welfare. Yet Legolas evidently felt his brother's loss keenly and mourned for him accordingly.

“Legolas, what is it?” he murmured against the archer's hair.

Legolas shook his head and only pressed his face against his shoulder. Elrohir did not question him further but, keeping an arm around him, pulled him gently along as he and Elladan were conducted to their quarters. He watched his twin talk with Galvreth and Aelluin and noted the older princes' grief. But it was not quite the same as Legolas' sorrow and he wondered at the difference.

Eager to scrub away the grime of long travel, he bade Legolas await him in his room while he and Elladan sought the baths. They did not speak much as they bathed or linger in the warm waters. The somber mood of their hosts had affected them greatly, more so Elrohir who was troubled by his betrothed's demeanor. They parted right after with Elladan reminding Elrohir of their audience with the king later that evening ere the dinner hour.

Returning to his chamber, Elrohir found that Legolas had already unpacked his clothing and sorted them, putting away the unsoiled pieces in the tall wardrobe by the bed and dropping the rest in the woven laundry basket in the corner nearest the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he wordlessly handed over a clean shirt and long breeches to the younger twin then bowed his head. Shedding his bathing robe, Elrohir regarded him curiously, worried about his uncharacteristic reticence.

Only after he had donned his clothes did Legolas finally look up, his eyes glittering with barely dammed tears. He reached behind him and withdrew one of Elrohir's shirts. This he extended to the Elf-knight with a shaking hand. Rust-hued bloodstains marked the left shoulder of the garment.

“When were you hurt?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Elrohir started in surprise. “We ran into a band of brigands west of Anduin,” he said, taking the shirt from him and crossing the room to toss it into the laundry basket. “They held humans captive for ransom and we gave chase.”

“And how were you wounded?”

“One of the scoundrels sought to slay the captives. I blocked his first blow.”

“With your own body?” Legolas demanded as Elrohir walked back to him, the trembling in his voice deepening.

Elrohir shrugged. “There was no other way,” he said. “No one else was close enough to stop him. But I knew he could deal me nothing worse than a shallow cut. Indeed, it is already quite healed. See for yourself.” He pulled open his shirt to reveal the fresh scar just below his shoulder. “I was never in great danger if that is what troubles you.”

Legolas swallowed hard then began to shake much to Elrohir's shock. He sat down quickly beside the prince and pulled him into his arms.

“What is wrong?” he exclaimed. “This is not the first injury I have sustained. Why does it dismay you so much?”

The archer lifted fearful eyes to him. “It could just as well have been fatal,” he whispered. “What if you had not managed to evade the brunt of that blow? I will not lose you, too, Elrohir, will I? I could not bear it if something should happen to you!”

Elrohir stared at him. “Legolas, whence these fears? I am hale and whole. And I have no intention of running on my ruin as Haldoron so rashly did.”

“I know, I know, but… Ah, I missed you so these past years and then this had to happen and… I felt so lost and you were not there to hold me!”

He leaned against Elrohir and began to weep in earnest. Sensing that his beloved needed to unburden his heart of much anger and anguish, Elrohir said nothing in reply but rubbed his back soothingly and waited out his tearful outburst. It was several minutes before Legolas finally calmed down enough to speak coherently.

“We hastened to their aid as best we could when we received word of their straits,” he said. “But by the time we arrived, nigh half his troop had been cut down and he - he had been among the first to fall for he led their charge. And we were too late to keep the Orcs from defiling his body. They hewed at it until we could scarcely recognize him. I never understood before just how evil these wretched creatures are until I saw what they did to our dead. And to think that you have faced them time and again and braved their malice!”

Elrohir shook his head. “As you will face them more and more, Legolas. 'Tis the chance all warriors of any worth take.” He gazed at his distraught intended searchingly. “But there is more to your distress than this I think. Please tell me what grieves you so.”

Legolas returned his gaze mournfully. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, “He never befriended me even when I sought his regard. Always he looked at me with disdain and did not think me fit company.”

“He envied you, Legolas,” Elrohir insisted. “'Twas not anything you ever did to him.”

“Mayhap. But it matters not. I had still hoped to win his regard one day. To be his friend and brother.” He shivered and closed his eyes. “Now I will never know it. Not unless he and I walk in the glades of Aman some far off day that is so distant I cannot begin to fathom it.”

Elrohir held him closer, his own heart clenching at Legolas' sorrow. There was really little he could say in consolation save the bald truth. “'Tis his loss for refusing to recognize the value of your love, Legolas,” he softly pointed out. “But I think he will realize this as he contemplates his life while he sits within Mandos' hallowed halls and he will come to rue his folly. Then mayhap you will indeed walk with him once again and he will call you 'brother' with all due affection.”

Legolas sniffled then looked at him hopefully. “Do you think so, Elrohir?” he whispered.

“With all my heart,” Elrohir answered. “Haldoron was not evil, only stubborn and foolish and that led him to this pass. But I dare say enforced contemplation will do him much good and when you meet again I am certain he will be the eldest brother you had always longed for.”

He staunchly met Legolas' pleading gaze, knowing the other needed his unflinching reassurance to salve his troubled heart. When Legolas seemed to subside, he kissed the archer's smooth temple before sealing their lips together in a tender kiss. For a moment, Legolas seemed to freeze, his clutching hands on Elrohir's shoulders stilling.

In the next instant, however, he hungrily deepened their kiss, refusing to release Elrohir's lips, and snaked his arms around the Elf-knight's neck tightly. Elrohir gasped at the sudden heat that sprang up between them. He had not been expecting such a turn in their reunion so soon. Not in the wake of Legolas' obvious grief.

But he soon realized that Legolas needed physical comfort as much as he had Elrohir's emotional support. Tension raged within the young Elf's body - tension born of a myriad feelings ranging from his yearning for Elrohir the past several years to the last vestiges of anger at himself and guilt for failing to save his brother. Irrational really, this last, for there was nothing he could have done as his own recounting of the situation demonstrated. But grief clouded people's good sense and Legolas needed to expend his in order to regain reason.

Elrohir let him do as he wished, exerting only enough restraint to keep the prince from overstepping his bounds, mindful as always of the constraints placed upon them. In seconds, his throat was covered with scarlet bruises and his lips were swollen from the prince's fervent assault on them. More molten kisses and searing caresses later and Legolas was all but rubbing himself hard against Elrohir, desperate not only for release but also for the unique intimacy of a carnal encounter.

Intuitively guessing that merely stroking the archer to completion would not entirely relieve him, Elrohir slid down to kneel on the floor between Legolas' thighs. Swiftly unlacing the prince's breeches, he freed his aching length and summarily drew his tongue down the rosy column repeatedly, eliciting frenzied whimpers from Legolas, before enclosing his lips around the firm flesh.

Legolas groaned helplessly when he was all but swallowed whole. With every draught upon his length, he spiraled ever higher into mindless rapture. He grasped the Elf-knight's wide shoulders, trying to withstand the pleasure a bit longer and failing ere many more minutes passed. Digging his fingers into the silk of Elrohir's sable mane, he explosively spilled himself, shuddering as he was ardently drank down.

Elrohir rose to sit beside him once more, catching Legolas when the archer swayed woozily against him. Legolas rested in his embrace until his breathing deepened once more and his heartbeat slowed to normal. Only then did he open his eyes and raise them to look gratefully at the Elf-knight.

“Thank you, seron vell”-beloved-he whispered. “I had wanted your touch for so long.”

Leaning forward to kiss Elrohir, he let his hand drop to the younger twin's thigh, close to his groin. To his surprise, Elrohir visibly flinched, a sharp hiss escaping him. With a puzzled frown, Legolas pulled back and gazed at him wonderingly then down at his hand. He stared at the marked bulge in Elrohir's crotch then quickly looked up to meet unmistakably lust-darkened eyes.

Smiling faintly, Legolas murmured, “Let me help you.” But when he would have gone down between Elrohir's legs, the Elf-lord stopped him.

“But Elrohir-” Legolas protested.

“Not until you are of age, ernilen”-my prince.

“You are much too noble, Elf-knight!”

Elrohir sighed. “Nay, not noble enough. I have already done far more than what your sire would have countenanced did he know that you needed such servicing.”

“Or that you have been seeing to my needs at all,” Legolas said, unable to suppress a smirk. “Still, you must let me see to yours. Though…” He looked down again and skeptically noted the extent of Elrohir's arousal. “…methinks this will take far more than my meager ministrations to appease!”

Elrohir groaned. He could not deny Legolas' contention. He felt as he had their last eve together. Indeed no mere stroke of a hand however skillful or fulsome would suffice to tame his desire. The closeness of their spirits and near binding of their hearts were manifesting themselves in the driving need of their bodies for greater familiarity. Of coming as close to union as possible if actual union was not yet permitted. By pleasuring Legolas with his mouth, he had afforded the prince the ecstasy of a vicarious breaching, the ultimate bodily intimacy between two beings. The same could not be said for him. Yet that was precisely what his body was clamoring for.

He hesitated, uncertain as to the wisdom of taking matters a step further. But he recalled what had occurred the last time he'd denied himself a more complete release. A chill snaked its way up his spine even as the heat in his groin seemed to intensify. He was acutely cognizant of his current vulnerability to the temptations of the flesh. True, he had erred unknowingly but he did not care to use that as an excuse for having erred at all. He would not fall into that trap again - only a fool did not learn from his mistakes.

“Elrohir?”

Legolas' inquiring whisper decided the matter for him. The sound of the young prince's hushed voice uttering his name just so had more potency than an erotic ballad crooned by a scantily clad siren.

He sealed his lips to Legolas' and bore him down beneath him. He heard the archer's breath hitch in astonishment and some apprehension. Pulling back he silently undid his breech laces, freeing his rigid shaft, all the while holding Legolas' mesmerized gaze. But when he drew the prince's trousers down to his knees, Legolas broke that gaze and peered down in confusion.

“What - what are you going to do?” he asked, his eyes riveted on their nether regions, his quavering voice betraying his bewilderment and fear.

Keeping a tight leash on his raging need, Elrohir cupped his chin and made him meet his eyes. “Trust me, melethron”-lover-he murmured. “I promise I will not despoil you.”

Legolas stared at him then drew a shaky breath and nodded. He lay back, his effort to calm his anxiety in plain sight. The picture he made was utterly endearing and utterly enticing. Elrohir forced himself not to contemplate stripping the archer to his skin lest he break his word to the young prince.

Kissing Legolas once more, he gripped the young Elf's thighs and parted them slightly. He slid his seed-slick shaft into the snug space between. Legolas gasped against his lips in shock then groaned in surprised bliss when Elrohir lowered his body to trap his length between them, inducing it to harden once more. Using the friction of the prince's enclosing limbs and their bellies surging against the other, the Elf-knight wrought pleasure for them both that Legolas had never thought possible much less conjured in his wildest imaginings.

He moaned with each thrust against him. Instinct kicked in and he pressed upward that his shaft might rub even more firmly against Elrohir's abdomen while tightening his thighs further about the hard flesh they berthed. The ensuing sensations promptly undid him, inexperienced as he was in controlling his body's reactions. He could not hold back his sobbing cries when the rapturous pressure in his groin abruptly uncoiled and ecstasy erupted in its place. He clung fiercely to Elrohir while spurt after spurt of creamy seed marked his culmination, a greater, more breathtaking one than any he had yet known. A similar warmth seeping between his legs and Elrohir's sharp gasp and shaking shoulders told him his lover had found blissful relief as well.

The sheer sensuality of what they had done brought a further rush of deep color to the archer's already flushed cheeks. Elbereth, but if this was but a portent of what a true coupling was like-! He wrapped his arms more snugly around Elrohir's shoulders, relishing their closeness and wishing with all his heart that they did not have to wait for two more agonizing years to finally know union in all senses of the word.

**********

Thranduil was noticeably subdued that eve when the twins were ushered into his august presence. Not only grief haunted the Elven-king but some measure of self-reproach as well. It had been no secret to the insightful of mind that Thranduil had lost confidence in Haldoron's ability to rule their people wisely and well. That he had looked to his second-born Aelluin to be the true power behind the throne when he relinquished it though Haldoron would wear the crown. Now Haldoron was dead and there was no longer need for discretion. But guilt there was aplenty though not even the most spiteful of detractors would have claimed that Thranduil had desired his heir's demise in order to make way for his more capable second son. No, it was simply and understandably a father's guilt at not having been able to protect one of his progeny.

His children were no less affected. Legolas was not alone in brotherly grief though the extent and nature of his regret differed from the rest. After all, Haldoron had gotten along with his other siblings for the most part. Legolas rued lost opportunities, the might-have-beens had fate been kinder; the others would miss Haldoron's actual presence - his face and voice and opinions, even the misguided ones.

That sense of acute loss showed itself in the faces of the older princes who were in residence - Aelluin, Galvreth and Lalorn. Elivorn and Nimaras were missing. They were out on a mission of vengeance, pursuing and exterminating the remnants of the Orcs who had brought about their brother's death.

Elrohir could not help heaving a sigh of relief upon learning of their absence. Five years had passed since that still hazy misbegotten night spent with the bronze-haired prince but he was not any more at ease with the thought of being in the latter's company than he had been in the immediate wake of that heartily regretted episode. And there was still the matter of confessing his part in it to Legolas.

He did not know how long his and Elladan's visit to the Woodland Realm would last but he knew he would finally have to reveal all to Legolas ere they parted once more. There simply was no putting off that evil hour any longer. Not if their pending nuptials were to be based on a foundation of truth and trust fundamental to any relationship of the heart.

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

Glossary:

ethuil - Sindarin for spring

To be continued…
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness