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The Moth & The Flame	By : Avaloyuru Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3099 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any copyright to the Tolkien/Middle-Earth Fandom, nor his canon characters or languages. I do not receive any form of compensation for this fanfiction. Original characters are my property.

Chapter List
- 16
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- 18
Thranduils’ love for Tauriel grows deeper as he discovers more of her secrets. While unbeknownst to him, the ladies of his council and court are not only protecting him, they are playing match-maker as well. Yet the darkness still looms far closer to home as Ráerû learns the identity of the tall dark elf in Lake Town.
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Long after he son had left his chambers, Thranduil continued to stare unseeing into the glowing embers of the hearth. His thoughts took him back to another place and time when he too was a different person, with no desire to sit on the throne. Even then he had sensed the subtle shifting and somehow knew that he would be forced live to see the world change around him. Perhaps he had been far too lenient with his son, overly indulging him as some of his advisors liked to point out to him from time to time. Yet he had no regrets as dark memories of his father intruded unbidden upon his thoughts.
“Our experiences do influence how we think, but they do not define who we are meant to be.” Elronds’ words from long ago filtered through the painful memories of his own youth.
Although he refused to accept it, in his heart Thranduil had known for a long time that Legolas would never sit on the throne. Impetuous like his grandfather, he was too quick to react yet far too much like his mother, with a gentle fäë (soul) that could be easily manipulated by those who would seek to control the crown. Over the years he had seen through the different plots and schemes to undermine him, to sway him from his goals. He had rebuilt this kingdom after the death of his father and he would continue to see it through, with or without his son.
A soft smile curled his lips as his thoughts now turned to more pleasurable things. The visible signs of his desire had abated, he felt the stirrings returning as he pushed himself up from the chair. He sensed that Legolas knew something was amiss between him and Tauriel, it was only the combined handiwork of Laurefindë and Gilaiwë that continued to muddy the rumors to shield him from any outright suspicion at this point.
Entering his private sitting room, he went straight to the wood framed tapestry on the far wall. Lifting the tiny lever, the door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Pulling it closed behind him, he listened for the faint click that told him it was secure before making his way through the narrow passage upward to Tauriels’ rooms. Slipping silently into the small parlor he paused to listen for signs of a possible visitor before stepping out into the larger expanse of her public sitting room.
His smile broadened as he caught sight of her, curled up asleep in one of the chairs before the hearth. A small leather bound book lay open on its pages where it had fallen from her grasp. Kneeling before her, he picked it up, frowning slightly as a small slip of parchment and a dried flower fell from between the pages. Picking up the folded piece of parchment, he recognized his handwriting, his gaze immediately dropped to the Länciföliûm.
“You kept them.” He thought in amazement as he looked up at her sleeping face, he felt his heart swell almost painfully.
Carefully placing them between the pages of the book, he closed it and laid it on the small table beside her. He had forced her to agree that there would be no secrets between them but this was different, these were her private things and he would not take them from her. For long moments he knelt there, admiring her, seeing her not only for her beauty. He knew it had been as much her strong willed and determined nature that had drawn him to her long ago.
“Thranduil!” She gasped, her eyes fluttering open as she sat straight up. “I...”
“Shh.” He silenced her as he quickly leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss. Slipping his arms around her, he pulled her close, treasuring the feel of her body as she molded herself against him.
“It was not my intention to make you wait so long.” He whispered softly, burying his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her as his arms tightened around her.
“Is everything alright?” She asked quietly, smoothing his silken hair as a mother would comfort a child.
“We must be more careful.” He told her as he reluctantly pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “I do not think he knows anything for sure but Legolas has his suspicions about us and it is too soon.”
“How?!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening as she stared back him, impulsively reaching up to caress his face.
“There are those who read into things.” He said quietly as he reached up, tucking a few stray tendrils of her hair behind her ears. “A subtle glance, a smile, different things can be turned into so much more by those prone to gossip.” He sighed heavily.
“I do not want to think of those things right now.” He stated as he gathered her into his arms, a broad smile stretching his lips at the sound of her soft laughter as she buried her face in his neck.
Clinging to him as he strode purposefully toward her bed chamber, Tauriel could not resist the urge to tease him. Enjoying the feel of the slight tremble that went through him, she playfully traced the tip of her tongue along the outer edge of his ear. Laughing softly as she heard his soft groan, she gently sucked his earlobe into her mouth.
“I dhû hen and pen neth nîn.” (You are in for a long night my young one) He growled deeply, the sparkle in his eyes belying the implied threat in his tone as he fell onto the bed, pinioning her beneath him.
Surrendering to the hungry mouth that now possessed her own, she slipped her hands beneath the soft silk of his tunic, raking her nails teasingly over the sensitive flesh along his sides just above his hips. Smiling to herself as she felt him shiver then stiffen slightly, his tongue thrust deeper into her mouth as he struggled to ignore it. Tugging impatiently at the laces of his leggings, she felt the subtle vibration in his chest as he tried to stifle his laughter.
Groaning softly as he felt her hands sliding between his flesh and the silk of his leggings, arching back slightly his breath hissed between his clenched teeth as her gentle fingers found the crown of his now achingly swollen sex. Trembling, he pressed his cheek tightly against hers as she grasped his erection, teasing the tiny slit with her thumb as she spread his arousal fluids over the sensitive crown.
“Tauriel.” He groaned in her ear, his voice sounding more like a soft caress as he clung to her, his body stiffening as she brought him close yet denied him release. Suckling her earlobe as she continued to touch and tease him, trailing her fingers over his flesh grasping his backside as she arched her hips forward against him.
Breathless and impatient, their mouths locked together in a hungry kiss as searching hands touched and teased each other. Nimble fingers making quick work of stripping away the last shreds of their clothing that now lay rumpled beneath their tangled bodies.
Once more, he seemed to know just where and how to touch her that would ignite the fire within her. Warm lips placed soft teasing kisses across her shoulders, pausing at the hollow of the base of her neck. Gentle teasing fingers roamed over her skin, tracing teasing patterns across her stomach and thighs. Threading her fingers in his hair as he trailed his kisses lower, nuzzling between her legs. Only the tip of his warm tongue teasing the tiny nub at the apex of her sex, sending shivers through her as she struggled to press herself tighter against him.
Smiling to himself, he watched her as he pursed his lips around it, gently sucking it from within its protective sheath as he continued to flick his tongue over it. Ignoring his own aching need for release, he did not want to cause her pain. He knew it would be easier for her to accept its girth once her own release had relaxed her muscles a little. Flinching slightly as her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, he pressed harder against her as her body, tasting the sweet nectar of her arousal.
“No!” She gasped breathlessly as she arched her back, pulling away from him. “Together.” She breathed as he looked up at her, startled for a moment.
“Tauriel?” He whispered her name, his breath heavy with a mixture of desire and concern as he moved up over her, his gaze studied her curiously as he cradled her in his arms.
“Please, I need to look in your eyes.” She said softly, her lips brushing his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I need to see it in your eyes.”
Capturing her mouth in a searching yet gentle kiss, he slipped one arm between them as he used his knee to part her thighs a little further. Hesitant to cause her discomfort or pain, yet unable to deny her, he guided himself toward her, rubbing the crown teasingly as he mingled their fluids. Frowning inwardly, he pushed slowly forward into her tight warm sheath as he swallowed her soft whimper.
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“The damned fool Tulcë has all but pledged Cäthdéirÿn to Tirithiáël’s eldest that’s what!” Lady Presráë exclaimed as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair before the hearth, her normally bright blue eyes darkening with her anger.
“How do you know this?” Her husband, Lord Arthädión asked, a deep frown forming on his brow as he looked up from his goblet.
“Malinaloxë is beside herself with the fact that Thalión is even considering Tirithiáëls’ offer for the hand of Cëänielóra to his second son.” Lady Presráë complained, her eyes narrowing slightly at her husband. “I do not trust him. I know he is up to something, I can feel it. He only has that seat on the council because he was his fathers’ heir.” She reminded him, her tone much softer at the memory of their dear friend.
“Do you not see what he is doing?” She asked, her brows rising as she stared at her husband who remained silent.
“He has always been a bit of an arrogant one.” Lord Arthädión said quietly, almost to himself as he turned his gaze toward the hearth. “I have no doubts this is has been on Thranduils’ mind for quite some time. The Prince is well past the years when most have already taken a wife and his interest in the young captain has never been a secret. You know as well as I that he is loath to go the way of an arranged marriage for his only child.” He added as he turned back to smile softly at his wife.
“A pompous arse if you ask me but then I never favored Oropher’s heavy handed manner of ruling.” Lady Presráë commented, pausing to sip her tea. “Garävegión and Laurefindë were right to advise him to send Thranduil to Lórinand...”
“We will not discuss that Presráë.” Her husband stated quietly but firmly. “Those were dark times for Thranduil. He has done well for the realm since the passing of his father and we are better for it. I am actually surprised it took him so long to abandon that mockery of an oath.”
“None of us expected Athëálÿssíä to just up and leave him and her little son the way she did!” Lady Presráë exclaimed, her eyes widening at her husband. “Had she stayed by his side and perhaps had more children, we would not be in this predicament. Eru (God) only knows why he has not considered marriage again for himself, the two never bonded.”
“It is difficult to say.” Lord Arthädión sighed heavily. “She was never truly happy here. I know of no one that has caught his attention over the years save the Lady Gilaiwë. Even then I fear it would have been little more than a mere arrangement to satisfy the oath. Ever since he was but an elfling, Thranduils’ heart has always belonged to realm.”
“There has been talk...”
“You know how I feel about that Presráë.” Lord Arthädión interrupted her firmly yet he smiled softly at his wife. “There is always talk but much of it is just palace gossip and not to be taken seriously.”
“Ordinarily I would agree with you.” She commented, her soft gray blue eyes sparkling as she leaned forward to pick up the small teapot to refill her cup.
“Ordinarily?” He asked as he arched a brow at her, deciding to humor her a little.
“He reminds me a little of you in your younger days.” Presráë said quietly, smiling warmly at her husband. “Personally taking it upon himself to retrieve the young captain. Quite romantic do you not agree?”
“I have to admit it did raise quite a few eyebrows.” Arthädión commented, returning his wife’s warm smile. “But I hardly think that is the case since he has appointed her as commander of the patrols. It would seem more appropriate that he would want to protect her rather than put her in harm’s way.”
“Really dear.” She chuckled as she dipped a bit of honey into her tea. “I personally think they would be perfect together.”
“Presráë.” Arthädión sighed, frowning as he tilted his head in that warning manner she knew all too well.
“She is the only elleth (elf maiden) with enough backbone to stand up to him.” She continued, deciding to ignore her husbands’ prudishness.
“Stand up to him?!” Arthädión exclaimed as he turned his full attention to his wife. “You say that as if he’s some kind of overbearing...”
“Quite the contrary.” She stated, yet unflustered as she interrupted him. “Thranduil lives too much in the past. His heart is too heavy, he needs someone strong enough to remind him that there is still love in this world.”
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For the fourth evening Ráerû sat quietly in an obscure corner of the Half Barrel Inn trying to ignore the stench of unwashed bodies as he picked at his evening meal. Elvändéruil had warned him of the people still flooding into Erebor in hopes of sharing in the newly liberated hoard of gold within the mountain in spite of the sickness that had spread so rapidly. Making it much more difficult for the elven healers to get it under control much less stop it from spreading. Thankfully with the help of additional healers from Lord Fládëithnôr of the Grey Mountains they were able to figure out the right combination of herbs and other flora available within the region that they finally began to see solid improvements.
Wrinkling his nose at the half eaten plate of food, he was at least thankful that fish was the main course in most of the meals at the Inn. Like many Woodland elves, he was not in favor of the red meats and only ate fish but could tolerate ground fowl such as chicken or duck. Summoning a young girl he asked for another pot of the strong tea and more honey to properly sweeten the bitter brew.
It had taken him the better part of the first two days to clearly identify the two men Elvändéruil had told him about. Humans he quickly recognized as Northmen, what region of the north he could not tell as their dialect was unfamiliar to him. So far however, he had not seen anything of the tall dark haired elf they had supposedly been meeting. His only satisfaction was that they seemed to be just as impatient as he was for him to make another appearance.
Seated directly across from the only door available to the patrons, his eyes continued to glance about the large dining area in a triangular motion each time the door opened. With his head slightly bowed, his gaze flickering over the faces of those entering before turning toward the two men then scanning the still crowded room to gauge their reactions. The hour had grown late and the majority of those remaining were enjoying the cheerful hearth as well as an overabundance of wine and ale for his personal preferences. Still, as loud as some of them were, their rowdiness was easily swayed with a stern glance from the grim face of the inn keeper.
Glancing up as the young girl brought him the requested pot of tea, he was able to catch a brief but clear view of the face of the dark haired elf as he passed directly beneath the glow of a small lantern just inside the door. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he recognized him.
“I would love more of those wonderful honey rolls if you don’t mind.” He said as casually as possible, forcing a sweet smile at her as he watched Ardara and Donagh rise from their seats.
“Certainly.” She replied, returning his smile and quickly scampered off to fetch them for him as he quickly turned his attention to the tea pot. From beneath the veil of his thick lashes, he watched as they followed him up the stairs to the rooms on the second floor.
“Oh dear! This does not bode well.” He thought to himself, the sick feeling in his stomach now twisting painfully as he spooned an ample portion of the honey into his cup.
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End Notes:
Thanks for reading! I hope this is as enjoyable to read as it is to write. Comments and reviews are always welcome!
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The Moth & The Flame