Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8921 -:- 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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Aearlinn - Glîr o Nár

Elo! Lasto!

Lasto a Tiri!
Now comes the night of Ened Ethuil, the night of Fire and Love,

A night of renewal and rejoicing, of merry song and dance.

Tilion, bring Ithil-bant to light the sky;

Bear witness to our deeds.
Gather the sweet essence of the Sacred Wood
to the Valar in their Western Realm
across the sea.

Tonight flame and fire come at our command, a foe subdued.

No longer feared, no longer spurned, a mighty tool within our hands.

Let sparks rain down upon the wood, kindle the pyre, ignite our hearts.

Come,Yavanna and Arâramê! Sing the Song:

With your grace shall the limbs become imbued; the flames shall set it free.

Come, revellers! Dance amid the smoke and fire; dance beneath the stars,

Leap across the soaring blaze; feel Love's quickening desire.

Seek amid flickering the gleam, seek your heart's companion.

Share the Love, share the night,
Body, soul, and mind as one,

At Dawn shall the fire be quenched, passion spent, and yearning done.

Then in Sacred Waters bathe; soul-to-soul behold your fire-mate.

If the Light of Love yet burns, then mates you shall remain.

For a year and a day until the night of Fire returns.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Wedding ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Last Homely House did not require any additional dressing in order to present the most pleasingly elegant setting possible in which to conduct the holy ceremony of matrimony, yet even so the grounds and mansion were embellished to honour the couple and their respective lands.

The fact that the wedding coincided with Ened Ethuil only added to the abundant decorations symbolic of romantic love, passion, and appreciation for beauty in all its manifestations.

In the central courtyard the banner of the White City floated on the breeze beside the standard of the Golden Dunes and the Swan's Wing pennant of Eärendil's House. Out in the garden where the ceremony would be conducted, every trellis and fountain was bedecked in garlands of scented blossoms. Every statue and green-way was adorned and draped with silk and satin streamers in colours of sand and ultramarine for Dol Amroth, sable and silver for Gondor. The gentle cadence of tinkling chimes filled the air, for from nearly every branch and bower hung clear, crystal tubes clustered around mithril strikers, flashing panes of polished silver dangling down to capture the breeze. Amid this harmony of wind and glass drifted the more structured sound of Elven music from pipe and lyre, harp and voice.

The lawns were sprinkled with white dogwood petals to designate an ephemeral path that directed the measured steps of Prince Adrahil and his daughter from the house to the altar. He was in appearance as richly and regally dressed as any king. A diadem of golden filigree rested on his brow above noble, patrician features that betrayed none of his inner turmoil. The concerned father had spent the long day closeted with his beloved princess and from her had wrung every bit of truth regarding her astounding accusation against the Gondorian valet. Yet, he could neither convince Finduilas to retract her troth nor deny the pride in his heart for her strength and dignity, her honourable loyalty and sacrifice. Tucked into the crook of his arm, the slender fingers of her hand remained firmly covered by his. Now and again he squeezed them tight in hopes of conveying his support.

Finduilas walked with her head high and her heart heavy, yet she was determined to keep her affronted dignity secret, displaying nothing other than maidenly splendour as she matched her father's careful stride. She was all in white and silver, her gown an extravagant creation of delicate silk and gauzy laces, beaded and embroidered with tiny white conch shells shaped like spiralled trumpets, translucent peach and lavender whelks spread open to mimic the wings of gulls, and pearls as small as grains of sand. A fine mesh of spun silver veiled her face from sight, the fabric draped over her head and across her nose so that only her dark eyes were revealed. Held fast by a braided band of mithril encircling her forehead, the filmy net cascaded down her back, alternately fluttering in the air and trailing on the grass.

Father and daughter were at the very rear of a lengthy procession comprised of the entire entourage from Dol Amroth, which followed an equally long parade of Gondorian nobility with Denethor and Mithrandir at its head. The Steward's son seemed a prince indeed, so glorious was his raiment and so numerous the jewels and links of precious metals peppering his person. A cloak of royal purple edged in fox was clasped about his shoulders and his boots shone like polished onyx. Upon his head no circlet topped his wavy chestnut tresses but he made up for the missing symbol of lordship by bearing the Horn of Vorondil upon his belt. Yet for all his pomp and princely mien, Denethor was notably subdued, his usual swaggering arrogance checked. His stern demeanour was caste in planes of respectful deference, an almost pious reverence for the solemnity of the vows he was about to speak.

Thorongil and Echthelion came next in line, the doughty ranger looking more like a Man of ancient and high blood than ever he had seemed before, though it was clear by his dress that this was not deliberate. He wore the fashion common to the nobles of the North Downs: dark knee breeches and hose, a pale green doublet, and a full woollen cloak woven in a geometric pattern of hunter green and blue divided into sectors by lines of red and yellow. No jewels or other such adornment decorated his person, but a bright silver star held the cloak clasped upon his right shoulder. The clothes were well-made but not ostentatious.

Beside him, Echthelion's garb rivalled the elegance of the kings of old yet he held no sceptre, wore no crown or coronet. Instead, with dutiful devotion he carried the Sceptre of Annúminas borne upon a blue velvet pillow, courtesy of Lord Elrond in whose possession the relic remained. For all the apparent affluence of his more elevated estate, the Ruling Steward was less a presence than his trusted aid and confidant. He did not seem to notice this disparity or perhaps attributed the difference to his own advancing years. In any case, Echthelion bore Thorongil no ill-will and marched beside his friend proudly, beaming in delight over the union about to take place. The elder leader longed for quiet days with grandchildren to spoil and dreamed of stepping down in favour of Denethor once a new heir was born. His shining eyes remained fixed upon the strong, steady back of his son until their destination finally came within sight.

The place this grand, ceremoniously sluggish train approached was set upon an idyllic knoll beside the reflecting pools. Erected thereon was a canopy of wrought silver, an arch of graceful lines and swirling ornaments through which ribbons and buntings and garlands abounded. A taut hithlain rope spanned the interior at the peak of the temporary gazebo and to this was attached a series of the crystal bells. A handle in the frame of the structure could be worked to send a wave of motion across the line and set all the chimes to ringing. A small table dressed in white linen served as a simple altar, and bore two golden bands beside a single mithril chalice. To one side of the pavilion stood the representatives of Imladris while on the other was space for the Gondorian folk and the people of Dol Amroth.

The wizard and the Steward's son reached the altar and turned to stand before it, facing the crowd of Elves gathered to observe the ritual, a large number of folk, among them Glorfindel and many of the nobles of the court. Gradually, all the remaining mortals reached the goal and divided, filling the assigned places opposite Elrond, the Fair Undomiel, and Erestor, the Lord's kinsman. Elladan and Elrohir were not in attendance and neither was the Wood Elf, though few among the assembly would attach any import to that fact. It was not, however, discounted by Elrond. Indeed, he was so absorbed in worrying over the coincidental failure to appear of both his sons and his young mate that he barely noticed Finduilas' arrival.

Adrahil gave a brief speech fraught with his intense distrust and secured from Denethor a solemn oath to protect and cherish Finduilas above all else before reluctantly handing off his beloved daughter. The couple stood before the altar and Mithrandir began the formal incantation and prayers. The Lord of Imladris attended with but half an ear, one thought only on his mind: Are they together now?

The idea made his heart sink and then flutter ominously. Arwen nudged him discreetly and Elrond startled, turning to bow toward the west just a second or two behind her. He tried to send her a reassuring smile but his daughter was not fooled. Yet this was not something he could ever tell her about; she had only recently come to accept his bond with Legolas. Sharing the sylvan with her brothers, that she would never condone.

"Eru, Iluvatar, creator of all we are and all that shall ever be, see this couple here before you and bless the life they now pledge to share," recited Mithrandir and paused, waiting for the congregation to voice the required response.

"We praise your wisdom and all that you have wrought," the murmur swelled, sonorous and sweet, amid the chiming of the bells and the soft rustle of silk as again the crowd rose and faced west, bowing low from the waist.

"When the Second-born awoke, their place and purpose on Arda were hidden from them," Mithrandir started again. "This was the will of Iluvatar, for Men to learn of the world and make their way within it by the might of their hands and the steadfast courage of their hearts…"

Elrond suppressed a sigh of irritation and a sour scowl, scanning the crowd for the hundredth time, hoping to see Elladan and Elrohir there. Legolas said it would be tonight; there must be another explanation. Perhaps they are trying to prepare for it. That notion was enough to turn his stomach. Fortunately, another reply was required and he was glad when the ringing of the bells signalled his chance to lean over and press a hand to his midsection for a few seconds. He heard Arwen whisper to him but could do no more than give a barely perceptible shake of his head.

"From even the earliest days, the union between man and woman has been deemed sacred, a bond to be honoured for the power of creating new life such converse grants, for this sharing of life and love mirrors Iluvatar's love for all the melodies in the Music wrought by human-kind…" The wizard droned on.

The Lord of Imladris twitched. This was torture unimagined, for every word and every blessing only reminded him that he had yet to sanctify his union to Legolas. They had made life together without the very sanction from Eru the mortals sought this day. Why did I deny my heart so long? Is it now too late? What if he turns to my sons instead and I lose him tonight? The urge to run from the garden and search for Aearen was difficult to control, for the sylvan Elf's call had not sounded in his soul for hours. Elrond probably would have bolted then and there save that Erestor's hand gripped his shoulder as the seneschal leaned close.

"What is amiss?" he whispered, as concerned now as Arwen for Elrond's distracted agitation was unusual to say the least.

"Aearen hasn't called me."

"What?" Arwen breathed, her voice bewildered while her face remained a mask of courteous attention trained upon the ceremony.

"I can't explain here," Elrond hissed and once more rose from his chair in accord with the crowd. "May the light and grace of Elbereth watch over their fate," he responded in concert with everyone else and resumed his seat with a sigh. Sit, stand, turn, face west, speak, bow. Why must the humans have such long-drawn and elaborate rituals? Let them exchange their rings and go.

"Finduials and Denethor shall today unite not only their lives but the lives of their people," Mithrandir cast a surreptitious glance in Elrond's direction as he resumed the rite. He could verily feel the anxiety peeling off the Elven Lord's person. "Staunch allies for long centuries, these domains shall now be bound even closer with the ties of kinship. It is the desire of Finduilas and Denethor to meld their separate families into one. Let the betrothed announce this intent clearly, each with their own voice, that all may witness the true sincerity of the covenant."

Now Finduilas rose and turned to face the assembly, bowing first to her father and the Steward, then to Elrond and his family. She took a steadying breath and spoke, her voice strong and clear. "I am Finduilas, daughter of Prince Adrahil of Dol Amroth. I am committed to this union with Denethor son of Echthellion, Steward of Gondor. It is my own heart and mind that I obey and no person has induced me to act in this manner. I pray the Valar may bless our marriage and strengthen our nations."

As was the tradition of Men, all her people rose to their feet clapping and cheering and praising their fair princess. Finduilas could not help smiling and a less dreadful light filled her eyes as she sat back down. With a quick glance she found Denethor smiling also, pride and admiration in his face and a warmth in his gaze that surprised her. Spontaneously, she reached her hand toward him and he caught it in a flash, carrying it to his lips for a kiss that was not chaste for all he held only her fingers. Another rousing chorus of cheers erupted and even the Elves could not help smiling over the Lady's blush, barely visible under the concealing veil.

Denethor was grinning hugely as he rose, for he was certain he had seen real hope in the fair Lady's features. She did not want to live their life together as adversaries; her heart was not yet closed. He bowed to his father and the Prince, to the Lord of Imladris and the Istar. He was so overwhelmed he even bowed to the crowd, which earned him a soft smattering of congenial laughter. It did not anger him and he found his smile grew even broader. At last he recited his part.

"I, Denethor II, son of Steward Echthellion II of Gondor, here state that I will take to wife Finduilas daughter of the Prince of Dol Amroth. It is my own heart and mind that chooses this course and none have influenced my decision. May the Blessed Valar grant me the grace to prove Finduilas wise in her choice of husband."

Another cacophonous bout of pleased and joyous shouts echoed through the garden and the bells were set to ringing, too. When all the hubbub died down, the couple resumed their places and the ritual continued.

On and on it went. As was mandated by the rubric, Mithrandir recited the ancestry of both bride and groom that the legitimacy of each one's birthright might not be questioned. He recounted significant facts and acts of courage involving various progenitors, making certain to favour neither one family or the other and all were satisfied. Once that was done, he moved on to another responsory, a canticle of praises for each of the Valar and their many works. More standing, bowing, sitting, and reciting ensued. At last he reached the actual exchange of vows and for this the couple rose and joined hands, swearing to remain faithful and devoted one to another until parted by death.

Now it was clear to the onlookers that the pair had quite forgotten there was an audience watching, for their vision excluded all but each other and as one the clasped hands lifted, drawing them closer until the toes of their shoes warned them to halt. Finduilas peered with shrewd scrutiny into Denethor's dark eyes, searching for falsehoods and finding none whatsoever. She gave a little gasp and her heart leaped in hope; he would be true. Denethor smiled gently and bent his head to kiss the hands cupped between his. "I shall not fail you." The whispered words poured from his very soul. Abruptly both jumped, for this display of devotion had set off another round of cheering. Mithrandir raised his hand for silence.

Gandalf smiled as he sprinkled the golden bands with sacred water from the chalice and pronounced over them an ancient blessing in Quenya. At his prompting, Finduilas placed her ring upon her betrothed and he did likewise. Now they were married, yet one more custom remained before they could face the crowd as husband and wife. Mithrandir handed Denethor the cup and he raised it to Finduilas lips that she might sip the consecrated fluid and she returned the favour to him. As soon as Denethor swallowed, the wizard raised his staff and called out loudly: "Hail Denethor and Finduilas, husband and wife, destined to rule the land of Gondor! May the marriage be both joyful and fruitful."

Just then the sun set, sending a last glimmering shaft of ruddy golden light to linger over the little silver pavilion, flashing like fire through the crystal bells so that a burst of coloured light briefly illuminated the scene. Unable to contain an awed outcry over this unlooked for blessing from Arien, the newly wedded couple turned for one final bow to the west before facing the gathered crowd. The humans all leaped to their feet, clamouring in raucous praise, every bell began clanging, and from some hidden location a flock of golden finches flew into the air, a swirling cloud of yellow wings.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Feast and the Fire Dance ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Husband and wife retreated down the petalled path, laughing as everyone began flinging blossoms into the air and at their feet. Their respective families and countrymen followed, yet it was a much less staid and formal procession than before. In no time the garden had cleared and all the revellers, guests, and citizens were enjoying the wedding feast, save one.

Elrond found his nerves stretched beyond tolerable limits while his stomach churned, forming agonised knots of worry and dread. He could not taste the food and finally gave up even the pretence of eating. One or two sips of wine was the best he could manage, enough to toast the couple's happiness and the future well-being of the allied realms. Several times Arwen tried to draw him out but he refused to speak, growing more morose as time passed. The twins did not appear for the sumptuous repast either and their father was now convinced his Wood Elf must be with them. Try as he might, he could not prevent fleeting images of their hands caressing Legolas' bare skin, their lips claiming his, their bodies covering him, moving in that most delicious of all rhythms. The scenes danced blithely through his mind and after each one Elrond grew paler.

Never had a happy occasion been such a cause for discomfort and irritation. With a heavy sigh the Elven Lord rose and declared the evening's entertainment about to begin with song and dancing in the Hall of Fire. Elrond came as close to stomping as it was possible for one of the First-born, angered for he was certain his sons had somehow seduced Legolas and brought about the joining before the Wood Elf was ready for it. His protective side was invoked, recalling how truly frightened of the encounter Legolas had been. The sylvan archer had come close to begging Elrond not to leave him, though the words never left his heart, his eyes betraying what his soul knew: the answer would have been negative.

That truth made Elrond even more perturbed. He realised how often and how quickly he must have refused a spoken request to spend a day with Legolas. Aye, and with aggravation in my tone, as if the mere question itself was an imposition upon my oh so valuable time. He felt sick and hurried to find a seat near the hearth, mindful of his promise to remain in support of Lindir's revelation in song. Hah, I did not even think to refuse him. Why is it so much harder to say yes to Aearen? His thoughts could manage no coherent answer and this only troubled the noble ruler more. He wondered how his sons would treat such a petition and ruefully concluded they would be thrilled. No doubt they would find all manner of activities to wile away the hours, never noticing the passing of the day.

His wrath doubled. If they harm my beloved or cause him one second of pain or fear, I shall disown them! Elrond raged internally; it was either that or collapse in sorrow and grief, for he had almost convinced himself he was to lose his golden warrior to the dashing and daring cavaliers. Unable to keep his fiery emotions from showing on his features, none could guess the cause of his ire nor its swift transition to absolute misery and despair. Ai! Elbereth, do not let them take him from me! I swear to show him my love and share my life with him henceforth. Grant me this last chance at redemption and I shall not fail!

Had Lindir not arrived at that moment in all his sylvan glory, Elrond might very well have deserted his guests and run from the room. As it was, the minstrel garnered everyone's attention and soon held them enthralled. Before beginning his own Song, he rendered one or two ballads for the newlyweds, some sweetly romantic, others bawdy and suggestive. He couldn't help but notice Elrond's despondency and understood. Lindir sent him a reassuring smile but it did little to comfort the worried suitor. Well, perhaps the singer took a small amount of sadistic pleasure in that, believing Elrond deserved this punishment for all the years he'd made Legolas suffer. With that thought in mind, the minstrel strummed a new chord upon his harp and began his Song, often returning his eyes to Elrond to ensure the Noldorin prince comprehended what he was saying.

He needn't have wondered, for Elrond became more and more disheartened and ashamed with every note and every word. Had he subjected his beloved Wood Elf to such shame? Had he regarded Legolas only as his possession? Worse, I treated him as an unwanted responsibility and a burden. I wasn't even mindful of the disgrace he bore, never even imagined such a thing possible for him to feel. Eru, mayhap I am not the best choice for him. Perhaps he should remain in the care of my sons. It wounded him to admit this and brought salty tears to his eyes, but he didn't bother to check them. To all observing, it seemed he was but deeply moved by the sorrow and strife in his dear friend's history.
Just when Elrond could bear no more, Lindir's song finished and truly there were few who remained dry eyed. The singer was not ashamed of the tears he shed, either, as he made his way to Elrond and Arwen, who was a sniffly mass of satin and dark tresses tumbled in her father's arms. Even Erestor was suspiciously misty and Glorfindel openly wept, standing to envelope the singer in a tight embrace as soon as he was close enough to do so.

"Mellonen, mellonen, I never knew; I didn't fully comprehend. How I wish I had been there then to protect you from so dreadful a fate," he said.

"It's all right, Glorfindel. There was no one who could stop them and if events hadn't transpired as they did, then mayhap something similar would have befallen Elrond and Elros. So you see, though it is a painful story, I am glad I lived through it to meet those two miscreants. Who knows, without my careful tutoring and mentoring, they might have become as twisted and obsessed as their Noldorin cousins." Lindir smiled, glad to have such good friends. He met Elrond's gaze over the Balrog Slayer's shoulder before settling his eyes on Erestor. As soon as Glorfindel released the sylvan singer and stepped aside, the solemn seneschal gravely bowed.

"Lindir, never again will I use your people as the subject of my jests nor subject them to my scorn," said Erestor. "I hope you can forgive the crass injustice wrought by my crude words."

"Of course, mellonen, consider it forgotten. I cherish our friendship too much to harbour such a grudge. I'm sure there's some remedy we can find for that wicked, wayward tongue." Lindir's mellow voice was laced with more than absolving mercy and his entire person presented an open invitation.

This perked up Erestor's downcast demeanour immediately. He unconsciously felt in his pocket for the small leather box containing the minstrel's Ened Ethuil gift, a uniquely carved stone amulet he'd discovered an Age ago while roaming the grounds. Erestor believed the artefact was left behind by Avarin Elves, proof that sylvans may have once populated Imladris long centuries before Elrond discovered the hidden valley. He hoped it would please the fair harpist and was about to utter a wittily provocative rejoinder when Arwen flung herself upon Lindir.
Weeping and trying to speak of her sorrow and distress, the fair Evenstar was sobbing too brokenly to be understood. Lindir was touched by her compassion and rubbed her back gently, soothing her as best he could with soft assurances of his soul's complete healing. It was only in telling her this that he realised the truth of his observation and it was as if a new melody burst into song within his heart, replacing his dirge of bitter sorrow with a triumphant flourish. He hugged the Evenstar with great joy, silently blessing the day Legolas came to Imladris, for surely it was encountering the sylvan archer that had given Lindir the courage to face his past and lay it finally to rest.

"Lindir, never ever doubt that you are loved," Arwen sniffed, smiling as she pulled forth her handkerchief and dabbed at her nose, gathering composure as she stood back to give her father a chance to greet his former mentor and eternal friend.

"I never will again, dear Undomiel," said Lindir, elated in this outpouring of genuine affection and compassion. He turned to Elrond, who was on his feet, red-eyed and haggard and looking as he had the day Elros had died. Some of the singer's joy diminished and he opened his arms to his former charge. Elrond fell into them readily, clutching at the flimsy fabric of the diaphanous robe, bawling like an elfling.

"All will be well, Alph Brannon. Trust in the love he has abundantly given; remember his pledge is sealed in the gift of new life. You will not lose him," Lindir crooned only loud enough for Elrond's hearing. A long shuddery breath preceded their parting and the minstrel gave his dear friend a bolstering smile.

"I'm trying, muindor iaur, yet he hasn't called and I fear…"

"Nay, don't permit such thoughts to overshadow your heart," reproved Lindir, holding Elrond away from him so he could peer into the stormy grey eyes. "He will be waiting for you at Amon Naur and you will see that he is eager for your arrival. Come on, it's full dark now and Ithil is rising. We must go for many revellers are already ahead of us. You don't want Legolas to think you won't be there, do you?"

"No!" Elrond gasped, shaking free from Lindir's hold and turning toward the exit in distraction, reaching into one pocket to make certain the comb was there, carefully rewrapped in rich purple velvet and tied with a golden ribbon, while tugging from the other a cloth to wipe his face. "Hurry! I want to be in front; I don't want to miss the Fire Dance. Well, are you coming, my friends? Arwen?" Elrond called over his shoulder as he retreated from the rooms.

The four stared, amazed at the rapid transformation from desolate hopelessness to undaunted determination. Lindir hastened to rejoin his Lord and Erestor fell in behind him. Glorfindel did not attend the bonfire rites, finding the idea distasteful to his strict moral code, and Arwen discretely turned aside in the courtyard to wait for Aragorn, counting on confusion and the milling throng to guard their secret assignation.

The trio dashed through the gardens, joining the flux of merry-makers heading for Amon Naur. They could see the blaze long before they reached it; someone had lit the bonfire and already a great crowd of Elves was circling the roaring beacon. The way parted before Lindir, his alluring costume garnering numerous appreciative remarks and offers to share the rites of the night, and thus Elrond and Erestor managed to make it to the centre of the scene as well. Erestor arranged his features in the most forbidding façade of menace he could produce, determined to ward off any from reaching Lindir's side. The minstrel would be his tonight and no other's. The advisor managed to keep a possessive hold on the singer's elbow as well, which amused Lindir highly, yet he didn't shake free nor encourage any other suitor.

The grassy slope of the altered hill was all but obliterated by the immense numbers of feet covering its surface and the light of the fire cast the billowing tide of bodies attached to them in sharply contrasting planes of light and shadow. All the revellers smiled and laughed and called for a jumper to come and begin the festivities, shouted for the musicians to start the dance. Who among them had kindled the flames was impossible to tell and what Legolas would make of it Elrond couldn't predict. He ran his gaze amid the throng, searching for the woodland archer but finding his sons instead. They saw him at the same time and as one moved forward to greet him, wary and watchful for his mood was somewhat fey.

"Adar," they bowed and spoke in unison.

"Where is he?" Elrond demanded tersely, rigid in anger as he peered into their eyes. Yes, there was something new there, faint but clear and pure nonetheless. His soul cringed as a spike of pain pierced his heart and deflated his anger. "You…have you…?"

"Yes," said Elladan honestly and directly. "Do not be alarmed; he is well and will be here in a moment or two."

"He said he needed his vaulting pole," added Elrohir with a smile and a shake of his head.

Despite the noisy crowd the three Elves felt the silence that followed their brief exchange intensely. Lindir cleared his throat.

"It is for the best, Elrond, now this need not interfere with the rest of the night's fun."

"Fun?" snapped Elrond. "How can you expect me to enjoy this knowing my beloved has…has been…"

"Healed is the word you're seeking, Adar," Elladan spoke seriously, a disapproving frown turning down his lips. "Healed, as we are."

"Aye, all is well unless you do something to upset things," said Elrohir.

"Something stupid and thoughtless and hurtful," growled Elladan, "like blaming Legolas…"

"…or showing anger and disgust."

"He loves you so; it would break him to feel this harsh and judgemental scorn you bear."

"I do not scorn him!"

"We will not permit you to hurt him," they said together, presenting an intractable determination that defied dissent.

Elrond was dumbfounded, staring from one to the other. They would not permit him to harm Legolas? "I would never hurt him," he insisted hotly, guilt inundating this inadequate and false denial. He swallowed, seeing that his sons were all too aware of the truth.

"See that you don't," snarled Elrohir.

"And neither shall we," appended Elladan.

"Well then it's settled!" announced Lindir brightly, a jovial smile upon his face. "Now that you three have declared a truce, let's…"

His words were interrupted by a great shout of excitement lifting from the crowd. They turned to see the throng dividing before a running figure, a long, phallus-capped rod lifted high above the bobbing heads, and then Legolas broke into the centre, beaming joyfully, clothes soaked to the skin, his formal robe left behind in the glade.

His eyes found Elrond's for a second and between them passed a spark so potent it would have ignited the fire were it not already burning high. Without pause, the Wood Elf raced at full speed toward the blaze, only at the last second thrusting the end of the pike down against the ground, catapulting his body through the air. Higher and higher he rose, tucking into a tight somersault and whirling through the very top of the skyward flames, straightening into a graceful pirouette for a turn and a half ere landing on the other side.

The assembly erupted in loud cheers and whistles, shouting compliments and pleading for more. Legolas absorbed it all triumphantly, traversing the circumference of the stone ring until he was back at the point of lift-off and retrieved his staff. He raised it high, acknowledging the thunderous applause, and turned to meet his beloved Nín'ódhel. No sooner had their eyes met anew than Elrond fiercely snatched him close, holding him tight, burying his nose in the steaming mane, murmuring Legolas' name over and over.

"How I missed you!" Elrond whispered.

Legolas' heart swelled to hear this and he held on just as hard, letting Elrond cover him with kisses. "I am here now and for the entirety of the night."

Elrond pulled back a bit but refused to let go, searching his sylvan lover's eyes again, and found what he dreaded: that same small hint of peace and joy the twins' harboured, a flickering ember of contentment that belonged not to him. "And beyond this night, Aearen? Will you be with me then also?"

"Always, beloved, for as long as you permit it," Legolas answered tenderly, shocked and deeply moved to hear the very fears he had held voiced by the usually confident Lord of the land. He captured Elrond's lips in a kiss filled with promise and desire and only relinquished them when he began to grow light-headed. He realised the crowd was cheering again, this time for their display of passionate ardour, and once more his spirit uplifted in hope. Perhaps their union would be accepted after all.

"Jump for us!" someone shouted.

"Aye, another leap, another leap!" many voices cried at once.

Soon the entire assembly was chanting for more and Legolas could not deny them. He broke from Elrond and only then did he discover Lindir. Mouth agape and brows high, Legolas looked him over, a scarlet blush climbing to his ears as the minstrel laughed and shook his staff.

"Are you up for a bit of competition, penneth?" he asked and that set the onlookers to shouting in gleeful encouragement. Lindir carefully removed the gossamer robe and handed it solemnly to Erestor.

"Competition? How long has it been since you leaped the blaze, peniaur?" countered Legolas with a grin. "Better bind up your locks and take a soak in the pond first."

Thus the frivolity began and the sylvan residents of Imladris delivered a thrilling exhibition, for while Legolas was the unequivocal expert in the art of fire jumping, Lindir demonstrated quite ably that any skill once mastered was never truly lost. The contest ended as the music for the dance began and everyone paired off together. Through all this Elladan and Elrohir remained apart from Legolas and their father, attending to Lindir and Erestor instead, and for this the Elven Lord was grateful. By midnight the long, serpentine chain of dancers weaving in and out about the bonfire had thinned significantly. The minstrel assumed the role of the prelate and declared the public revelries at an end, bidding all peace and joy through the night. The remaining Elves needed no other prompting and eagerly descended the hill. Lindir linked arms with Elladan and Elrohir tugged Erestor away, whispering their real plan in his ear to soften the blow to the seneschal's ego upon seeing Lindir racing away with Elrond's elder son.

This left only those who would tend the fire, the Lord of Imladris, and the Wood Elf. Elrond recognised his head groom and one of Glorfindel's warriors as they bowed and smiled and made urgent shooing motions with their hands to get him moving. He quickly dismissed his internal curiosity as to how they had come to accept this task when Legolas snuggled close, nipped at his ear, and darted away into the night. Elrond had to move quickly so as not to lose sight of him, yet truly he knew Legolas wouldn't leave him behind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Alone at Last! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They raced through the darkened woods, hand in hand, laughing as they dodged around this tree and that, the jubilant sound underscored by the rustle and stir of nocturnal fauna startled into motion by their headlong pace. The way was marked by eyelets of argent gleam as Ithil poured his lustrous splendour into these pockets of open ground where the grass was half-green, half-grey, bordered by a lacy fringe of shadow cast by the trembling leaves of the over-hanging limbs. Amid one such zone no larger than a metre round, Elrond stopped, pulling Legolas hard against him, sealing their mouths and lapping up the excited gasp that fled his Wood Elf's lungs.

The sylvan archer broke away but did not try to entirely escape the possessive grip concentrated at the small of his back. Smiling, he draped his arms upon Elrond's neck and sighed, the silver glint of the Moon flashing in his eyes just like the playful sparkle of starlight. He laughed and closed the gap between them, resuming the kiss with joyful abandon, snaking his fingers up through the dark cascade of ebony locks, quickly unravelling the braids, seeking for sensitive ears.

Elrond gave an encouraging little grunt of approval and tightened his hold around the svelte figure, widening his stance for better stability and to ensure his growing arousal was pressed close against Legolas.

Aearen smelled strongly of wood-smoke and faintly of singed hair, for his braided tresses had swept through the roaring bonfire no less than three times. Ah, that had made Elrond's heart thunder in both trepidation and proud admiration, for Legolas' acrobatics were more daring than in previous years, whether due to the enhanced thrill of competition or the elevated approval from the citizenry he couldn't guess. He was only glad to have the Wood Elf all to himself at last and it was difficult to resist stripping him down and taking him there and then in the moonlit grass. As it was, one hand found its way beneath the waist of the leggings where a firm, round rear flexed in response to the appreciative caress, the other released the golden mane from the confining plait and separated the crimped and crinkled strands.

Legolas ended their languid oral duet and brushed his nose against Elrond's, eyes shut as he inhaled and released the breath, so overwhelmed with blissful contentment that every particle of his being was suffused with warmth, like having a small piece of the sun tucked inside his heart. He felt the bond between him and Elrond and their child expanding and strengthening, becoming a sustaining, splendrous presence. He felt restored instead of depleted and realised this was primarily due to the unexpected accord achieved with Elladan and Elrohir. All this was underscored by the lack of anger or judgement in Elrond's response of needy insecurity, his almost desperate desire. Even so, Legolas was unwilling to share any of this, uncertain how such news would be received.

Reluctantly, Legolas pried the exploring fingers out of his pants and giggled at the resistance encountered. "Nay, let go for we have yet to reach our destination, melethen."

"Why don't we stay the night here? This place is more than suitable; it's perfect, for only here will Ithil's light set your eyes to sparkling so brightly," Elrond's rebuttal was enforced by fingers swiftly loosening the ties of the soot-smudged tunic.

"Ai! Not here, saes Elrond; anyone may happen along, seeking a hidden clearing for their coupling. Everything is already prepared for us; come with me," Legolas pleaded, trying to keep up with those healing digits that somehow seemed to have multiplied, becoming twenty instead of ten, and possessed of a will of their own, all bent on divesting him of his clothes.

Elrond relented, chuckling as his hands were tightly gripped within Legolas' and held out well away from contact with the lithely muscled body, affording him a moment to appreciate his work for the sylvan's tunic was all but discarded and the sheer silken shirt gaped wide. His smile faded, for there upon the creamy skin of Legolas' chest lay a necklace, just a simple chain with a single charm, but it was not one he had given the archer. Tentatively, Elrond reached out and touched it, just letting the tips of his fingers trace the links, warm from the heat of Legolas' body. Carefully he lifted the charm and at once recognised whence it originated. His brows rose in surprise but before he could speak Legolas burst into frantic babble, apologising and trying to explain.

"Forgive me, I fell asleep and then I was running late and forgot to take it off. I didn't mean for you to…"

Elrond quickly moved his fingers, pressing them against Legolas' lips to silence him, shaking his head as he held the young Elf's gaze. "Nay, no more of that. This is a bonding gift between my sons and you, is it not?" He waited as Legolas gave a quick nod, eyes so round the whites of them glowed. Elrond sighed, saddened that he had put his beloved in such a conflicted position, for Legolas had said nothing of his union with the twins and most likely had hoped the topic would not come up. I have trained him to keep quiet about what his heart most needs to speak. The idea disgusted Elrond but he kept his features calm and open. It was up to him to repair the trust he'd so foolishly tarnished; with time Legolas would be able to confide in him fully.

"Aearen, there is no cause for you to apologise. The twins told me it was done and you are whole again, as are they. You owe me no explanation for why you're wearing this," he trailed his index finger down the chain lightly. "A symbol of bonding is usually a ring, yet I'm grateful they did not choose to give you one, for I want only my ring on your hand. This is a fitting substitute and its history is important to the twins; did they speak of it?"

"Nay." He could scarcely find air to voice the simple word, for he'd suspended respiration, tensely braced for harsh repudiation.

"Then I will not," Elrond offered a rueful smile. "It is for them to reveal. I must tell you, though, that it would not be proper to remove this chain for my sake. Keep it on for it represents the link you three share; that is the right thing to do."

"You are not displeased to see it?" Legolas searched his beloved's face for any hint of wrath, any glimmer of wounded feelings. "Above all things, I would never betray your heart," he swore fervently, squeezing the hand still within his grip.

"This I know," Elrond's features described an exultant smile and he touched the graceful cheek with adoring fingers, "and you have not. I won't lie to you; seeing the necklace was a shock, but I realised, somewhere in my subconscious, that tokens would be exchanged to secure the bond. It doesn't distress me as much now as the idea of it did before it occurred. Remember, I granted my permission before hand, though I suspect the choice of time and place was removed from you."

"Aye, 'twas Lindir's doing, yet I can't fault him for I wasn't sure I would be able to…" The sentence diminished into silence as Legolas tried to look away, colour rapidly suffusing his face.

Elrond gently raised the averted countenance and carefully bent forward, pressing the tenderest of kisses on the grimly set lips. He retreated only far enough to clearly focus on the troubled eyes. "I'm sorry you had to endure such doubt and turmoil alone," he whispered and leaned in to impart another soft impression upon the archer's mouth, letting his tongue just faintly glaze the lower lip. "I love you, Legolas. I want to be the one you turn to for support when you need it, no matter the reason." He kissed him again, sighing as Legolas opened for him, arms winding about his neck as a barely heard moan passed between them. He relinquished the inviting orifice only because he wanted to sample the slender neck and shivered when he felt warm breath gust over his ear.

"Nín'ódhel?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Thank you." The whispered words were quickly followed by a swift lick across the reddening tip and another tantalising rush of cool air over the wet skin as Legolas continued: "We tarry over-long here; I would renew my bond with you this night, but not in this place."

"Oh, so eager, Aearen?" Elrond grinned and forced himself to step back, holding Legolas at arm's length the better to appreciate the erotic display. Under the light of the moon, Legolas' exposed torso glowed in soft, warm tones of ochre and mahogany where peaked nipples tempted him to taste. Elrond decided that was not an enticement he needed to resist and leaned low, laving each hard little node of nerves thoroughly, settling a delicate bite on the left one that raised a fretful groan from his beloved. Now Elrond was eager to get where they were going and, guessing it was Lindir's clearing in the woods, tugged on Legolas' hands and resumed their journey.

The night-lit landscape fled beneath their racing feet, its quality of veiled beauty unappreciated, its magical potential unremarked for the lovers heard only the pounding concussion of their hearts, saw only the inner vision of what they wished to do. They burst within the secluded circle of trees and then Elrond froze, astounded by the change. Always a picturesque glen, the meadow presented an atmosphere of romantic allure he would not have believed possible. From the limbs of the surrounding trees the subdued light of tiny oil lanterns winked and flickered, highlighting the bower and its opulent invitation to recline amid the cushiony comfort of silk and down-filled pillows. The sapphire colour of the coverlet looked as rich and dark as the midnight sky and the trailing vines of honeysuckle released a hint of sweet nectar into the air.

"Amazing! It hardly seems the same place. Legolas, this is beautiful," the Elven Lord enthused, smiling as he drew Legolas into his arms.

"I can't accept the praise for it. This was Lindir's idea." Legolas simply could not bring himself to speak the twins' names. Instead, he wriggled closer and lifted his lips for another kiss, eyes half-lidded, hips gently swaying side to side, thigh rubbing against the thickening bulge beneath Elrond's robes. As he hoped, his beloved happily responded by sealing their mouths together and while they were thus engaged, Legolas managed to shrug off his shirt and tunic.

That done, he began working loose the clasps on the heavy robes concealing the Elven Lord's magnificent body, smiling as Elrond's lips released him only to resume marking his neck and shoulders. He sighed as the talented tongue began moving upwards again while the gifted healer's fingers stroked across his stomach and traipsed up the centre of his chest. Just as Elrond's mouth reached his ear, the fingers began flicking across his nipples, pulling and rhythmically circling the rising points until Legolas believed they had to be standing out a thumb's breadth from his body.

"Ai! Nín'ódhel, the things you do to me!"

"You know you like it, Aearen."

Elrond slid down to his knees, lips and tongue and teeth partaking of smooth, smoky flesh as he went, hands working feverishly at the leggings. The task was perhaps not as easy to perform or as quickly accomplished as it should be, but that was solely due to Legolas flagrantly fondling the luxurious black hair, twisting his fingers through it, lifting up handfuls that fell through his grasp in cascades like fine silk, using the very ends to brush and tickle the Elven Lord's exposed ears. "Elbereth!" this sacrilegious exhalation preceded the poking of Elrond's tongue right in the centre of Legolas' belly-button, which earned him a sharp gasp and an unintentional yank on his hair.

Elrond didn't mind at all and in fact smiled up at the youthful sylvan as he dragged the pants down. Legolas' erection bobbed up and nudged him in the chin and that was sufficient seduction to lure his attention back to the sultry crux of sexual delight. He burrowed into the soft downy hair surrounding the root, nuzzling the crease where the leg joined the body and lapping the salty sweat, fingers languidly teasing the tip of the rigid shaft that was as a consequence pressed against his cheek. The other hand Elrond used to massage those long lean thighs from the back of the knees to the tight little arse, up and down, pinching the firm cheeks now and again, until he could feel shivers running over Legolas' frame.

By then the archer's slender cock was quite slick about the head and Elrond heard a faint but distinct whimper. Grinning, he sat back slightly on his haunches, pulling the organ toward him so that Legolas staggered forward a step as the penis entered his mouth. It was rare for the sylvan to be loud but surprise was on Elrond's side and he was delighted to wring a sharp cry from his beloved. Elrond sucked, moaning as he reached underneath and rolled the testicles in their smooth, hot sac, relishing the uncontrolled thrust of Legolas' hips that drove the shaft down deeper. One hand held him there, securely planted on one soft mound of arse, its counterpart slipped from the sensitive balls and stroked the narrow opening behind them, just penetrating slightly to feel the heat radiating from it, gathering the silky secretions to lubricate the digits. Elrond relinquished the penis, dipping his head lower to take in the scrotum as he pushed the fingers inside the resistant anus.

"Ah, saes," Legolas whispered, panting as he was spread and another finger entered him. "I need you. Can't you get rid of these clothes?"

Elrond lifted his head and met the furrowed brow and pleading eyes, quirking a brow in mock dismay. "Why, Aearen, you are entirely too coherent. I thought my technique would take you beyond the capacity to make such demands."

"Yes, it does; I am, but all I can get to is an ear and I've been dreaming of your naked body next to mine and…"

"What if I just undo my breeches and take you into my lap, pin you right to me, and fuck your slick hot hole?"

Before Legolas found the means to respond to this suggestion, Elrond removed his fingers and rapidly made good on his offer, releasing the long hard column of maroon flesh from his leggings, holding it up and out. Next Legolas was jerked strongly, the noble Lore-master's hand firmly pulling at his hip. He sat as Elrond rose slightly; in one swift motion he was impaled on the ruddy cock. He tried to lift up and begin the delicious friction that would please them both so thoroughly, but found he was held fast. The confused sylvan sought Elrond's eyes for enlightenment.

"A few rules," the Lord of Imladris smirked at the wide-eyed stare of disbelief this elicited. "First, you may ride me as hard as you like but I'm not going to come this way."

"It was your idea!"

"Second, you are not to come either, for you will spend too quickly and I have something special in mind."

"Valar! Now who's too coherent? Normally when I've got your cock this deep inside me you can't think of anything except how good it feels." Legolas wasn't sure if he was amused or worried and decided it was both at once. If this was a new game, he was certainly intrigued.

"I can't and it does, beloved Wood Elf mine, now give me a few strands of your hair." Elrond chuckled at the complete confusion on his lover's face and dropped his hand between their bodies to tickle the tip of the hard penis poking him in the stomach. Legolas shuddered and tried to grind into the tantalising grip, but Elrond was the one shocked when the archer decided to take several strands of his ebony tresses instead. "Ai!" The stroking hand came away from the rigid organ and raised a plaintive groan from the sylvan. "That smarts, Aearen, but no matter; hand them over."

Legolas obeyed and watched, spellbound, as the Elven Lord wove the threads into a single thin string, realising just a second too late exactly what Elrond wanted it for. By then the black hair was wound tightly around the base of his cock, effectively cutting off any possibility of achieving orgasm. He gasped, squirming as the cock inside somehow got even harder and thicker. "Saes, Nín'ódhel, untie me! I can hold on."

"Nay, you won't be able to; not with the sort of pleasure I have in mind. Trust me, Aearen, this will be the most enjoyable joining we've yet completed," Elrond soothed his mate, kissing him all over his face, rocking his hips to send little jolts of sheer delight racing through the slender body.

Legolas growled softly but his eyes sparkled as he began to shift in concert with the gentle thrusts. "That is quite a promise, beloved. Our time together always results in the most wondrous ecstasy."

"Oh, this is good," muttered Elrond, steadying and assisting Legolas' lifts with hands at either hip. "Bend a bit when you come up. Aye! Ah, Legolas!" His words dwindled away into naught but heavy breathing.

Legolas settled his arms around his beloved's neck and leaned down to kiss the parted lips. "Aye, it's grand, beloved. Would be better if you were naked. And better still to enjoy this in the comfort of that soft bed behind us."

Elrond merely rumbled out an incoherent and non-committal noise and kissed him back eagerly, removing one hand in order to stroke a tantalising caress across the glans of the sylvan cock, which made Legolas jump and all the internal muscles contract around the penis inside him. Elrond moaned under the exquisite compression and then in complaint as Legolas slowed his movements. The noble Lord severed their oral entanglement and found his mate's expression was one of worry rather than pleasure. He stopped what he was doing, fear clutching at his heart, fanned to greater heights by the little golden swallow charm pressing into his skin. Mayhap he couldn't provide the kind of excitement the twins could. "Do you truly not wish to continue?"

"I do!" Legolas cried, alarmed by the tone of defeat. "Elrond, you know this well. It's just that…" the archer faltered, his cheeks flaming, and shut his eyes.

"What? Tell me, Aearen; you're frightening me," pleaded Elrond, framing Legolas' face and shaking it a bit, hoping to induce him to lift the lowered lids.

A miserable groan exited the sylvan's lungs but he bolstered his courage and continued. "There's no cause to fear. I just don't want to be so sore that I can't appreciate whatever this new game is about." He slowly opened his eyes to see how Elrond was taking this statement and found an expression composed of equal parts dumbstruck surprise and self-recrimination.

Elrond bowed his head against Legolas'shoulder, mentally berating himself for not considering this, comprehending why he hadn't as a surge of jealousy raced through every nerve right behind a vivid vision of his Wood Elf being ravished by his two sons. It took a great effort to control this undesirable reaction and Elrond knew his tension would translate to his mate. Indeed, Legolas wrapped him in his arms and started caressing his hair, murmuring apologies again. Elrond's heart sank and so did his erection. With a sigh he snuggled into the lean frame and kissed the clavicle beneath his cheek, encircling Legolas in a secure embrace.

"Shhhh, Aearen, don't be sorry, don't say those words, please. I'm the one who should beg forgiveness; I didn't think about this very carefully. Listen to me, Legolas. I promise you will enjoy the new experience; trust me."

"I do." Legolas straightened up, very aware of the decreasing girth of the penis inside him and feeling terrible about it. Exactly what he didn't want to do: spoil Elrond's fun. He waited as the elder Elf raised his head and then offered a faint smile and a one-shoulder shrug. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said anything."

"Nonsense! It's a valid concern and this night's pleasures aren't all about me, you know. We're to relish the joining mutually or not at all; agreed?" Elrond smiled with gentle amusement at the eager nod that followed this. So very young, so willing to please. "A compromise is in order, then. You have consented to being 'restrained' for the duration of the game; I will allow you to strip me so you may have ready access to this glorious body you've been dreaming of all day."

"Oh yes, a good diplomacy, my Lord," tittered Legolas, fingers resuming their earlier efforts to divest Elrond of the many layers adorning him.

"Wait, there's more," Elrond took one of those busy hands and carried it to his lips, kissing the calluses on the deadly digits. "We shall remove to yon bower of luxury and comfort. Up, woodland fey, your magic only works under a canopy of apple boughs and floral garlands."

"Nay, you can't escape my enchantment, mighty Lord," Legolas whispered seductively in Elrond's pointed ear. "I'm in your blood now."

They rose together, Elrond's slackened penis already beginning to come to life even as it slipped from its warm confinement; Legolas' throbbing erection flush against his belly. It rocked and bobbed as they walked and Elrond giggled, reaching out to flick its tip with finger and thumb.

"Ai!" Legolas shouted indignantly and reached down to squeeze the large balls peeking through the gaping pants. The Lord of Imladris wheezed out an undignified little squeal and Legolas let go quickly, darting out of reach, running for the bower, laughing over his shoulder.

"Ah, raug!" Elrond bounded after him and lunged the last metre, catching his beloved Wood Elf round the waist and bearing them both down upon the fluffy bed. They landed in the position he most favoured, on top, his thickening penis wedged between the parted cheeks of that lovely rump. Elrond couldn't resist a few swift shoves against that inviting rear and decided to plant his teeth into Legolas' left shoulder blade, too. He hummed a deep, dark growl low in his throat and thrilled as the sylvan shivered and shimmied under him.

"Aearen, how you rule me," he exhaled this remark in strained and husky notes. "It's true; you're in my very bones now." He smoothed his hands down the strong back as he forced himself to sit up, determined to follow through on his promise though thought was rather inhibited by the consuming desire to shove his aching organ back inside the Wood Elf where it belonged. He shifted and settled on his heels, unable to resist kneading the pale flesh before him. Elrond parted the graceful limbs and explored the darkly shadowed region between them, each hand delving a separate cavity, and Legolas' resultant moan accompanied a submissive tremble as he adjusted his hips for penetration.

He'd decided just to let Elrond do as he would. Sore or not, their bond would be renewed before dawn and only then would he feel content and complete. He needed this joining; his soul craved the union and his body fairly cried for Elrond's essence to fill him. Legolas relaxed and spread his legs further when suddenly the fingers withdrew, but the invasive thrust of hot, hard flesh didn't follow. He turned to look over his shoulder and found Elrond regarding him with blatant hunger. "Why did you stop?"

"You always tempt me thus," Elrond pouted, an expression not accustomed to residing on his visage so that Legolas blinked to be sure it was really there. "You lure me in with your scent, entice me with such compelling submission, so open, so willing that I can't resist the urge to bury my cock in you as deep as it will go and spill there. But not tonight, Aearen. Tonight it's my turn to be lavished with such adoring caresses, to feel your teeth and tongue lingering over every inch of my skin, to know what you feel like from the inside."

Legolas' eyes widened and he sat up. "It is?"

"You said you wanted me naked, too, but haven't done a thing about it," the noble Lord complained, "and it's Ened Ethuil yet you've brought me no gift." He crossed his arms over his chest in petulant displeasure, but Elrond's eyes were glimmering brightly and the corners of his mouth twitched in their struggle to remain down-turned.

"Ai! I do have a gift, a wonderful present," Legolas insisted, scrambling over to the small table where his robe was neatly folded. From beneath it he retrieved an elaborately carved box of black oak and held it out to Elrond.

He had made it himself, of course, working into the top surface an intricately carved relief of Lanthir Fân and its veil of falling water. All around the sides were other scenes from places he loved in the valley: the pond where he and Elrond spent tea-time, his lily-bog, the cedar and their balcony as viewed from the gardens, the merry brook and its well-marked trysting bridge. On the bottom were inscribed his and Elrond's names, intertwined amid a scene of flowering vines and birds. He grinned as Elrond took and inspected the box, admiring the design and then attempting to open it. The lid remained firmly shut and the Elven Lord flashed his mate a disgruntled grimace as he began pressing and pushing on this carving or that, searching for the hidden clasp.

"It's true Wood Elf magic this time," Legolas announced proudly. "You must speak the correct words to release the lock."

"Well, what are they?" demanded Elrond, pleased to find Legolas could use the whispered rumours for a joke of his own.

"You must guess," giggled Legolas, "and while you do that, I will see to the removal of these numerous garments." He started with Elrond's boots so as not to be overly distracting.

"Oh Valar, how am I to know?" whined Elrond, viewing the box from all angles as if it would reveal the answer to him. One glance at Legolas' happy and expectant features convinced him; it was, after all, no harsh task to play at riddles while a beautiful, naked, aroused Elf disrobed him. "Edro enni!" he commanded and tried to lift the top. Nothing happened.

Legolas exhaled a snickery snort from his nose. "You'll have to be more original, beloved," he said, dragging his nails lightly across the sole of Elrond's foot, which jerked involuntarily as all the toes curled up. Quite abruptly Legolas found himself wondering what they tasted like and before he could question the new desire he had the small appendages in his lips, sucking greedily.

"Aearen!" Elrond shouted and laughed at the same time, twisting under such ticklish torment. "Daro! Saes, daro. I can't think when you're doing that."

"Sorry," Legolas blushed and set the foot back down contritely. "Guess again, Nín'ódhel." He busied himself untying the long satin sash binding the plush robes about Elrond's waist.

Elrond considered carefully, or as carefully as anyone can with a naked wood-sprite slowly unwrapping a satin sash from around one's mid-section. Especially challenging as Legolas managed to brush the fabric over the weeping head of his cock where it jutted from the enveloping folds of velvet. "Ah, I have it: Erchad Daer And."

Legolas whooped and fell over sideways, rolling to his back and howling with laughter. The soft strip of fabric escaped from his hands and arranged itself provocatively across his genitals. The black thread binding the base of the shaft stood out in sharp contrast to the red erection and the pale blue belt. The Wood Elf's guffaws transmuted into decadent moans as the silky cloth was slowly drawn off him and he looked up to find Elrond hovering over him, the box forgotten and cast aside. He gasped as a wet tongue licked him from root to tip. "Ai, Nín'ódhel, saes!" Lips closed over him and his hips rocked off the mattress as the slick muscle probed the sensitive slit. Suction drew from him a trickle of fluid and a reedy wail but then as quickly as the pleasing stimulus had begun it ended. "Elrond, please," Legolas begged, heart pounding and every nerve on fire.

"No. I made a promise and I'm nothing if my word can't be honoured," Elrond's voice trembled with lust as he turned away from the vision of quivering desire splayed upon the quilt. He retrieved the box and cleared his throat, refusing to allow his eyes to ogle the naked, moaning Elf beside him. "I want my gift," he told himself stubbornly.

"I'll be your gift, beloved; take me," whispered Legolas.

Elrond couldn't help himself; he had to look. What he saw took his breath away in a low and jagged whine of decadent discomfort as he watched Legolas bend his knees and lift them high, one hand reaching down to frantically pick at the tightly wound strands of hair as the other carefully cradled his sac. Elrond was on him before the will to move registered in his brain, snatching the errant hands away, sheathing himself fully in one swift, smooth motion. He steadied himself and gave a quick push out and in, striking deep at the hidden gland so that Legolas gasped and arched into the thrust, wrapping his legs around Elrond's waist. "Is that how you like it, Aearen?" Elrond grinned, securely pinning his sylvan's hands against the mattress to prevent any further infractions of the rules.

"Aye. Nay. Let me touch you. Valar, let me touch myself!" Legolas panted out, meeting the simmering stare of lecherous glee, torn between frustration and delight.

"No." Elrond set to fucking, slow and deliberate strokes that soon had Legolas in a torment of thrilling ecstasy. The sight of the Wood Elf was exhilarating; body trembling into every move, head tipped backwards, elbows digging into the bed, hair swaying in a shimmering cascade across his chest and shoulders, lost in his passion. The golden swallow charm slid off to the side, the fine mithril chain catching on his nipple; Elrond bent forward and bit it on his next thrust, savouring the sensation of cold metal between his teeth and the hot flesh, and kept his mouth there for a soft sucking lick as Legolas pressed closer into the warm, wet kiss. A deep, shuddering groan left his lungs.

"Elrond…"

"Look at me, Aearen. Open your eyes," Elrond ordered and stopped moving, enthralled as Legolas struggled to obey, slowly raising his face and forcing his wrinkled lids to part. The blue irises were nearly vanished, just a thin band rimming the dilated pupils, and the Elven Lord saw himself reflected within them. Then Legolas moaned again, twitching in urgent impatience as his brow scrunched up into deep creases and he blinked, licking his lips.

"Please, finish me, please."

There was real distress in his voice and Elrond came back to reality at once, all his elaborate plans discarded as he cradled the golden head and kissed his beloved archer tenderly, wrapping his other arm around the narrow waist to support the quaking frame as he slowly rocked back. With care he shifted one leg and then the other until he had Legolas in his lap, leaking penis still snug and tight in its comfortable socket. Their mouths parted and Legolas leaned heavily on Elrond's shoulder, curling his torso inward to give him room to untie the cincture around his cock. A long sigh of relief escaped him as the searing pressure subsided but try as he might he could not take himself in hand for Elrond still prevented his efforts. He lifted a confused and distraught countenance, uncertain why Nín'ódhel would be so cruel.
"Nay, don't fret, trust me, Aearen, you won't be denied any longer," Elrond was quick to reassure him, kissing him again as he slowly leaned back, lowering himself to the bed until Legolas was straddling him, the inflamed cock pointing at him accusingly. "I told you; I want to feel you from the inside."

"Inside you." Legolas really didn't believe his ears. Elrond had never expressed interest in being on the receiving end during their sexual exploits.

"Aye," Elrond chuckled lightly and swept away the wisps of hair hanging over Legolas' face. "That inside me." He pointed at the rigid erection. "I would know this pleasure with you, Legolas, and only you. Will you consent?"

"Yes, of course I do," Legolas breathed, eyes very bright indeed and a triumphant smile overtaking his features. He dismounted quickly and barely registered the sound as the thick rod slapped back against Elrond's stomach, too busy yanking on the waist of the leggings. The venerable Lord of Imladris was truly a magnificent example of male perfection and the sylvan archer frequently regretted, silently of course, that the fine physique was always so thoroughly covered in a way that masked the hard muscles in arms and legs and obscured the broad, masculine chest.
Still, he could understand the reason for such voluminous robes and so many layers. Elrond's genitals were about as amenable to conscious control as his, which meant not at all, and thus whenever they were in close proximity a massive erection made itself known. Not very dignified for a noble Lord. Legolas sighed as he caressed the powerful legs, admiring the shape of the calf, the graceful transition from thigh to hip, and found that he was kissing his way up the limb. Elrond seemed to like it but shivered impatiently and no sooner than Legolas raised his head to meet his gaze than the long maroon penis twitched up toward him in blatant invitation. He smiled and dragged his tongue across it as he crawled higher, thrilling to the eager moan this aroused, licking the flat belly and dabbing into the navel. There those omnipresent formal flowing garments halted further oral adoration.

"Off with these infernal robes!" commanded Legolas, straddling his lover's thighs in order to make it so, smiling as Elrond giggled in response. Finally the mighty Lord co-operated, even if that was simply to lie still and permit Legolas to do as he willed, and in no time the offending velvet and brocade was cast aside upon the grass. "Ah, beloved, you are too glorious for words. I would have you naked all the time, just like this," Legolas sighed, scooting further along so that he was now seated right atop the throbbing heat of that solid organ as his hands slid seductively up the smooth, supple skin, stopping when his palms felt the hard points of erect nipples beneath them. He pressed down, massaging in tight little circles as he did, and bent low to lick and kiss the rest of the chest, smiling as Elrond's hands came up to play with his hair and smooth down his back, settling on his rear where he was cupped and squeezed.

"Aearen," Elrond exhaled, straining to draw sufficient air to satisfy his heart's increasing tempo.

"What?" Legolas removed one hand and attacked the dark, puckered bud revealed, biting in swift little nips that tugged just enough to be unbearably titillating.

Elrond's answer returned as a series of wheedling cries, pelvis rocking as he sought to enhance the sensation. When Legolas switched to tease the opposite nipple, he slid one hand down into the crease of the archer's arse and pressed against the anus. That made the Wood Elf wiggle a bit and that almost made Elrond forget his promise to remain yielding and compliant. "Aearen!" he rasped out, unable to resist rolling to the side and dislodging the slick and tempting pressure tauntingly poised above his inflamed organ.

"Elrond?" Legolas lay in the Elven Lord's arms, confused about what he'd done now, staring into eyes darkened by the night and filled with fiery emotion that might be passion and yet again might be something else. "Was that too hard?"

"What?" Elrond was completely lost, being that he was trying to banish images of flipping the sylvan over, prying his legs apart, and taking his pleasure first in one opening and then the other.

"You've changed your mind, then."

The drab tone of stoic acceptance brought Elrond out of his tempestuous battle with temptation and he sighed heavily, shaking his head and drawing Legolas close for another kiss. "No; it's just not what I'm used to, beloved. Before you, I hadn't taken a male lover in many many centuries; not since my warrior days in Lindon. Even then, I wasn't partial to this role."

"Are you saying you haven't been… penetrated since…"

"…the mid-Second Age, yes. I think I want to slow down, or maybe you should just hurry so I don't have to struggle not to break my word." He smiled and gave a sheepish shrug.

"Nín'ódhel, we don't have to do this tonight," Legolas soothed, a little disappointed but not so much that his lust lost its edge. "We have eternity to try out new positions. I just want to be with you; I need you; need this union." He trailed a fingertip down his mate's breastbone and settled a kiss on his lips. "Make love to me." he whispered, the sultry command mingling with Elrond's breath as they parted.

"Oh, Legolas, I want that, believe me, and I will, but I want you to make love to me first. It's important to me, no matter how awkward I feel about it. I truly want to give in to you this time." He paused and studied the uncertain face before him, smiling with just a hint of wicked pleasure. "I know you fantasise about this. Do you imagine it while you're bathing, thrusting your hard shaft deep inside me, hearing me beg for it?"

"Uh…I…"

"Well, then, take me, Aearen; I'm yours."

With that Elrond drew aside and flipped over on his stomach, collecting his arms under his chin and turning to stare at Legolas with a look the sylvan could only describe as apprehensively seductive. Despite the direct and exciting invitation, the archer had to bite his lip and lower his eyes to keep from laughing as one Noldorin brow rose skyward in what he supposed was meant to be a coy come-hither manner.

"In my dreams," he began slowly, mastering his mirth as he reached out and caressed the curve of the fine, strong back, "I always start by combing your hair."

"Really?" Elrond was now fully intrigued and joyfully recalled the naughty grooming tool he'd brought. "I would like that, Legolas, and there in the pocket of my robes you'll find a magnificent comb."

"My Ened Ethuil gift?" Legolas asked, sliding to the edge of the mattress and rifling the voluminous garment's many hidden pouches. He removed a fob with two golden keys on it, a scrap of parchment with a scribbled list of tasks to complete, a time keeper, a palm-sized abacus, and a damp, rumpled handkerchief before at last locating the prize. With a huge smile he carried the velvet-wrapped parcel back to Elrond's side and hastily disposed of the ribbon. He gasped in exaggerated surprise as the mithril comb was revealed. "Just what I've always wanted, Nín'ódhel; how did you know?"

"Imp! You know Glorfindel delivered it into my hands this morning," scolded Elrond, but he was smiling. "It was Lindir, however, who revealed the real appeal of such an article."

"Ah, it seems to me we owe much to your minstrel, then. Did he explain how the game is played?"

"There's a game?" Elrond sat up eagerly and crossed his legs under him so that his rigid penis was on flagrant display.

Legolas noticed, of course, and suddenly reached over, touching the edge of the comb to the very tip of the engorged organ. Elrond's grunt almost obscured the decadent sigh that issued from the shining teeth. "Aye, there's a game. You choose a number, not a large one, please, and then I will draw the comb through your lovely ebony locks that many times. Whatever the comb says on the final stroke, we do."

"Valar!" Elrond's eyes were huge in disbelieving appreciation for the Wood Elves' highly evolved sense of erotic enjoyment. He swallowed, "Five," and shivered, unconsciously gripping his cock and pumping it.

"Five it is," repeated Legolas, carefully taking hold of the wrist in motion and halting it, "but none of that, melethen, or I'll have to restrain you."

"Oh? Perhaps later, Aearen, now demonstrate how the game is played." Another shiver passed along his spine as Legolas moved around behind him and carefully gathered all his hair together.

"One." announced Legolas and sank the fine tines into the thick mane, drawing it all the way through to the end.

"Oohhhh, do that again!" the lurid male voice pleaded and both Elves laughed.

"With pleasure. Two." The second pass began.

"Ahhhhh! Tongue my ear, you wicked Elf."

"Oh," Elrond's voice held mild regret that he had chosen a higher number.

"Three."

"I want you to swallow my cock and drink my seed."

The lovers groaned in unison at that and it was with a trembling hand that Legolas raised the comb again. "Four," his voice was faint and fraught with escalating desire.

"Touch yourself."

Elrond whimpered; he loved watching Legolas do exactly that. He met the archer's eyes over his shoulder; this was it.

"Five." The comb began its descent.

"Taste me! I want to feel your hot tongue inside me."

"Yes!" Legolas grinned and tossed the comb aside. "Lie down again, beloved, let me …" he didn't finish the sentence for Elrond quickly returned to his prone position, on his back this time, and willingly bent his knees, spreading his legs wide. Legolas was presented with an incredible view of the huge crimson cock between naked thighs while the tiny crinkled entrance remained hidden by the darkness. No matter, he was sure he could find it.

He crouched low, eager to set about preparing his beloved Nín'ódhel in such a thoroughly decadent manner, but decided to pay homage to the exposed genitals first. A quick swipe across the base of the tight sac made Elrond gasp, penis and legs twitching of their own volition, so Legolas repeated the action, adding a plaintive purr that remained just short of a hungry growl. Then he sampled the tender skin of the perineum and that almost made the Elven Lord come on the spot as a huge jolt rocked his spine. Legolas wasn't sure if the garbled shout was meant to be his name or a plea to be quick. He decided he needed to hear it again to be certain and licked the smooth skin slowly, settling a dainty nibble on the inside of the right leg.

He paused to sneak a peak between the legs and found Elrond clutching the quilt, arms so stiff they trembled, mouth open and eyes squinched shut. It wasn't exactly a look expressive of ecstasy but Legolas checked the groin and found the proud erection unflagging. The covers rustled and he turned to see Elrond gazing at him with a peculiar mix of trepidation and hunger, the unspoken question clear within his eyes.

"Just making sure you're all right," Legolas said and gave a reassuring smile when both those dark brows soared upward. He decided he didn't want to hear any retort couched in indignant tones laced with superiority and licked the potent root whilst breathing out the most decadently wanton moan he knew how to make.

Ignoring the imploring uplift of the thick shaft, he resumed his place lower, laving over the creased, red opening thoroughly. This was all territory he'd explored before, however, and it was time to expand the bounds of his experience. Cautiously he pressed the tip if his tongue against the small ingress and met strong resistance; Elrond's body did not relax and welcome him inside. Again he circled round the sealed hole and then gently blew across it. That raised another surprised cry from Elrond as a shuddery spasm worked through him.

Legolas was pleased by the response and remembered what Elrond used to do in the early days when all this was new to him, too. He reached up and took hold of the solid organ, squeezing and pumping slowly as he resumed lapping at the tightened anus. The effect was immediate and most gratifying for Elrond groaned and worked his hips to enhance the sensation as his body visibly relaxed. Legolas pressed against the opening again and this time the tip of his tongue made it past the strong ring of muscles.

The taste was acrid and biting, the scent earthy and musky and Legolas wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He pushed in further and felt the ripple as the internal walls tried to expel him. He fought against it, seeking to reach the small swell beneath which the prostate lay hidden. His tongue was not that long, it seemed, and he withdrew, sitting up and ceasing his stimulation of the hard penis at the same time. This was really not so simple and he suddenly felt incredibly inadequate to the task. Elrond truly didn't want this, no matter how much he might say so, and it was rather difficult to maintain a high state of arousal in the face of such denial. He met his mate's questioning eyes.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Elrond," he said dejectedly.

The Lord of Imladris was upright in a flash, arms encircling the drooping shoulders and lips pressing kisses against the golden hair. "Of course you can. What's wrong, Legolas?"

"It's just not the same. I want to be with you; I want it to feel the way it always does. This is different." He shrugged, unable to find means to express his worried dissatisfaction. "I'm…I know you don't really want me inside you. You're just offering because you know I wanted that. Now that it comes down to it, I don't want to be taking pleasure from you; I want to give it instead. I don't think I can, not this way."

Elrond lifted Legolas' chin and searched his eyes carefully, not liking the small glint of hurt and the faint spark of fear shining there. He sighed; once more he'd failed his beloved. Legolas should be lost in his fantasy but instead he was worrying about what Elrond was feeling. "Aearen. Legolas." He smiled and hugged his sylvan archer. "You mustn't give up so easily. You may not remember but in the beginning you were quite wary of our bond and resisted joining with me. In fact, that first year we coupled exactly three times."

"That was different!" exclaimed Legolas, eyes wide as he wriggled out of Elrond's arms to meet his indulgent gaze. "I was sick. I didn't know you at all; I didn't love you then. I was driven by the bond alone."

"Ai! Don't get angry; I know all this. I only meant it wasn't easy for you at first, even though our union was pleasurable. It was difficult to get you to relax for anal penetration, as if you didn't much care for it."

"That sounds so clinical and to be truthful, I don't."

"What?" Elrond's spine straightened and he lost every thought in his head, shocked to hear this admission.

Legolas flinched, dropping his eyes to the mattress. "I didn't mean I don't like it at all; I like everything you do to me, I just like joining with you more the other way. Feels better."

"Don't do that," Elrond's voice was sharp with anger and he regretted seeing Legolas cringe but couldn't help it. "Don't tell me what you think I need to hear. If you're not honest with me how can I hope to please you? You should have told me you didn't want me to enter you that way."

Legolas stared at him. How could he make Elrond understand? "It wasn't my place," he started and swallowed, feeling his throat tighten up and tears start to gather. "I belonged to you but you didn't belong to me." He couldn't manage more just then and was grateful to feel Elrond's strong arms around him again. He leaned his head on the broad shoulder and held on tight, tears escaping despite his efforts to hold them back.

"Ai, Legolas," Elrond could barely speak, feeling as if he'd been kicked in the gut as all the truth in Lindir's Song was revealed anew. "You thought you were mine, like a…" he inhaled sharply, unable to voice the word that came to mind, "like a pet or a toy." Rapid motion of the bowed head indicated agreement as the Wood Elf quietly sobbed, a faint mumble succeeding it of which 'ruined everything' was all Elrond could make out. It was more than enough. "Nay, that's not true. You haven't ruined things, Legolas, you haven't." Elrond shook him a little for emphasis and then squeezed him tight, rocking slowly back and forth, realising he just needed to let Legolas cry. "It's going to be all right; I promise you," he whispered in a pointed ear and kissed it tenderly.

The tears stopped after a few minutes and Legolas felt around until he found the hem of the velvet robe, dragging it close to dry his eyes and wipe his running nose. He inhaled a deep and steadying breath that hitched slightly and settled back in the comforting protection of Elrond's embrace, ear pressed against the warm, bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For a long time they stayed like that, Elrond offering support and reassurance in calm, soothing words, Legolas clinging to every syllable. Soon consolation and apologies melted into affirmations of love. Pledges and endearments were punctuated with sweet kisses; fingers traced familiar contours and lingered in favoured places; desire rose and replaced despair.

They made love to one another under the bower, discovering they didn't need the festival's heightened atmosphere of sensual frenzy or elaborate erotic toys to enjoy the experience. They only needed each other and confirmation that both felt the same consuming passion, the same blinding terror of losing the only thing in life that mattered. It was a blissful joining if a rather conservative one, each in their accustomed positions, that left them smiling and locked in on another's arms again.

"I thought I would lose you tonight." The pair spoke their penultimate fear in unison, startled but not too much as they laughed over it and kissed. Both inhaled and smiled, foreheads touching, and answered: "Never."

TBC

~ ~ Glossary ~ ~

Glîr o Nár: Fire Song

Elo! Lasto!: Look! Listen!

Lasto a Tiri!: Listen and Watch!

Erchad Daer And: Big, Long Prick

Alph Brannon: Swan Lord - a reference to the Mariner's House

Alphdal: Swan-foot

melethen: my love

meril: rose/roses

Sidh, aderthatham: peace, we shall reunite

Lilta Nár: Fire Dance

hervenn/hervinn: husband/husbands

Lúthadron: Enchanter, the twins' nickname for Legolas.

NOTE: Well, took a lot longer than I meant for it to, partly because I'm working on other stories, too; partly because once again it wasn't supposed to be like this. Lots of re-writing and lots of cut material; maybe that will end up as an Extra. Even after that it's a very long chapter. Did sitting through the wedding make you grit your teeth in impatience? At least you could skip ahead and forego all the standing, bowing, and responding Elrond had to do. Way back in the day when I was a little girl going to church on Sunday, there was much of this sit-stand-kneel-genuflect-respond-sit kind of pattern, especially on sacred days or for sacred rites like marriages and baptisms. Hope I transmitted some of Elrond's frustration and anxiety during the long ceremony.

Then a quick meet-up with the twins and he knows. A few turns around the fire and then off with Legolas he goes. What can I say about that? Someone once called me the Queen of Angst and I guess it's true: can't even have a steamy sex scene without a whopping side-dish of emotional agony. Oh well. It seemed there was too much tension between them, too much insecurity, too much fear for it all to just be a rousing, rutting romp. They were trying so very hard, weren't they? We did get a taste of what the comb can do, though, and perhaps later they will try it again. Of course, Elrond didn't get the box open in this scene yet I assure you they didn't stop where I stopped and those details will have to come along later. (The magic words were accidently given away in the glossary a few chapters ago; that's how long I've been working on this scene.) I hope everyone understands that I need to move this along, for to me this crisis is over now, the humans' issues are settled, and I'm ready for the relative to arrive.

Thanks once again for all the kind support from everyone reading!

© 12/03/2007 Ellen Robey

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Aearlinn

Aearlinn - Glîr o Nár

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Wedding ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Feast and the Fire Dance ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Alone at Last! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ Glossary ~ ~