A Prince's Desire | By : nimeme Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 1625 -:- 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. |
“Elrohir? Are you in there?” Haldir called to the other
side of the closed door. The door opened
and Elrohir stood there. A smirk played
mischievously on his face. He held a
large candle stick that supported three candles burning brightly.
“I’m here,
Haldir,” Elrohir fully smiled. His hair
was unbraided and curling its way into messy tendrils of dark silk. His skin was unusually pale, even for him,
and dark purple tones circled his eyes. His
chest was revealed: his shoulders were not broad but neither were they weak,
his form was muscular. He only wore a
pair of pants ripped at the knees and stained with an orangey-brown
substance. He wasn’t wearing any shoes
and his feet were filthy. His hands and
lower arms were spotted with small straight red cuts that occasionally dripped
blood.
“By Valar,
what is wrong with you?” Haldir reached out to touch one of the tendrils but
felt his arm burn. He hissed in pain and
quickly withdrew his hand.
Elrohir
laughed, he had moved the candlestick in front of him, “Oh, no! I hope you are not burnt!”
Haldir
offered him a look to kill and shoved the candlestick out of his hand. It crashed to the floor and wax splattered on
to his clothes, Elrohir’s clothes as well.
He gripped the twin’s shoulders and pushed him into the room.
“I see
you’ve already relieved yourself of much of your clothing? A fine choice,” as the blond leant to kiss
the dark elf, he tripped over something.
He cursed as he fell on the floor.
The spines and hard-covers of books were strewn indiscriminately;
countless pages also littered the floor.
The marchwarden slowly sat up observing the scene around him in
confusion. To be honest, he was
scared. On the large bed lie hundreds of
books, some old, but most looked relatively new or even mint: not a page was
misplaced from them unlike the trash he sat on.
“May I beg you what is going on here?”
Elrohir
slowly backed away until he leant on the wall.
His back arched seductively and he traced his abdominal muscles with his
fingertips. His face was like a child’s:
innocent but tempted by the allure of mischief but also scared of its repremandible
consequences.
“Oh,
Haldir, I am guessing that you have come here for something to do with- what’s
it called? Oh yes, lust,” he hissed. “That is what
I have been reduced to.”
“Elrohir,
you mean more to me than that!” he protested.
“I do? Like what?
What do I mean? Didn’t you ever
step back and see that I have turned absolutely mad?” Haldir opened his mouth to protest again but
was interrupted: “But at least I’m
sexy. Don’t you agree, Haldir?”
Haldir
slowly rose to his feet, finally regaining his courage. With much caution, he walked to the
door. Elrohir’s eyes followed his every
move.
Just as he
was to open the door, “Goodbye, Elladan.”
Elrohir
laughed, “Excuse me?”
Haldir
realized his mistake immediately and looked at the twin again, “I apologize,
Elladan!” He covered his mouth in
shock. “Elrohir, Elrohir!”
“Get out of
here,” Haldir didn’t need to be told twice and left the room in a hurry. He slammed the door behind him and exhaled in
relief.
“Keep away!
Do you hear me?” the dark elf wielded a sword and smashed it against
his hip, sending Haldir to the floor.
The
marchwarden looked up at his assailant, gripping his side in pain.
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