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Twilight Tales - The Captain's Guerdon	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8528 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter XVIII

Rohan, Nórui 14 TA 3019

The bride-to-be of Gondor’s king was escorted to her nuptials not only by her own people of Rivendell but also the folk of the Golden Wood. It was fitting that this third union of Elf and Man should be celebrated by both kindreds but in particular by any of Elrond’s kin. For at last the long sundered lines of the Peredhil would finally unite once more.

On the eve before they would arrive in Edoras, the Elves encamped in one of the groves that dotted the rugged landscape of the Riddermark. Numerous though they were, it took keen eyes to see them from afar for they seemed to blend in with their surroundings, such was the efficacy of their muted garments and tents. Only their campfires gave away their presence and then only if mortal eyes caught sight of them where they blazed shielded by the Elves’ tents.

Glorfindel listened to the talk around him but spoke little. It was still a matter of astonishment to him that he was kin to the Peredhil, which accounted for his current inclusion in their small circle. He sat between Arwen and Elrond, across from Celeborn and Galadriel, and was privy to the most intimate discussions amongst them. As he listened, it struck him that he would always be a part of such gatherings; that his thoughts and opinions would no longer be regarded as those of a mere soldier or advisor but as a close relation.

He was one of them now. He was family. And, splendor of Eru, it felt good.

When the talk turned to the time it would take to reach Minas Tirith, he and Arwen exchanged glances of tacit understanding. They were in accord. They were both anxious to reach their destination and be united with they who kept their hearts.

The stars were shining brightly when he finally retired to his tent. But before he slipped within, he felt eyes on him. With a sigh, he glanced back to a group of Geledhil where they had gathered around another campfire. He was not surprised to find young Rúmil watching him.

It had been so ever since they met up with the Lothlórien contingent. Celeborn and Galadriel had brought a fair number of their warriors with them and amongst them had been Haldir and his brothers Rúmil and Orophin. From the first, the guard had avoided him but nevertheless observed him from afar. Resentment had been his first reaction upon seeing the Elf-lord but that had later been supplanted by incredulity when he espied the gold band on Glorfindel’s right index finger. The captain did not think it beyond Rúmil to suspect that he had been coerced into matrimony. For such had been the Balrog slayer’s reputation that few ever expected him to bind himself in wedded eternity.

The disbelief had given way to bitter resignation. It told Glorfindel that the warden still held much affection and desire for Elladan. Had he not bound himself to the older twin, Rúmil would not have hesitated to try his luck again so to speak. The very notion caused an answering flare of anger in the captain but was swiftly followed by patent relief that he need never again face the prospect of losing Elladan to another Elf. Elrond’s older son was his and he was never as grateful for the inviolability of elven marriage vows as he was now.

He slipped into the tent, his heart singing even as it yearned for the one who made it trill its tune. He had just shed his tunic when he heard a soft commotion outside. Someone was approaching the camp and the guards had issued a challenge. He wondered if the Rohirrim had gotten wind of their presence and had come to investigate.

That was when he felt it, surging through his very veins. The sense of nearness was so overwhelming that it all but froze him to the very spot. Snapping out of his momentary trance, he hurried out of the tent in time to see two great warhorses canter into the midst of the camp, their riders clad in silver and grey, the colors of Imladris. They swiftly dismounted and were swept into the fervent embraces of Elrond and Arwen and the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Glorfindel strode toward them quickly. One of the horseman whirled around at his approach and a moment later, he had his arms around his Peredhel spouse.

To say that he caused quite a stir with his actions was an understatement. The Glorfindel of old would have simply nodded at his lover; mayhap gone so far as to smile or extend a welcoming hand. But the Glorfindel who had so recently joined his heart and spirit to the older of Erond’s twins did no such thing. In full sight of everyone, he cupped Elladan’s face and sealed their mouths together in a devouring kiss that set eyebrows rising in astonishment and lips spreading into brilliant smiles of approval.

Even when they broke apart, still they had eyes only for each other and it took the discreet clearing of Galadriel’s throat to remind them that they were in the middle of a camp. Elladan chuckled as his mate actually blushed with chagrin at having behaved with such wanton enthusiasm before Elves not of Elrond’s household.

“I never thought I would live to see such a sight as our fair captain overcome by love’s thrall!” Arwen laughingly quipped.

Whereupon Elrohir declared: “You had best bed him down for the night, tôr iuar”—older brother—“ere you scandalize the more proper souls amongst us.”

Elrond shook his head in supposed reprimand though his lips twitched suspiciously. With a faint, sympathetic smile, he said: “Go, both of you. Elrohir can recount to us what passed since you rode away.”

Elladan beamed gratefully at his father before grabbing Glorfindel’s hand and demanding he lead them to their tent. The captain wasted no time but did as he was bid.

“I had not thought to see you until we reached Gondor,” he whispered as they walked.

“I could not wait,” Elladan replied, tightening his arm around his lover’s waist. “As soon as we received word of your journey south, I insisted that we meet you.” He stole a kiss just as they came to the tent and was gratified when Glorfindel refused to release his lips even as they slipped into the tent.

Once within, Elladan at once grabbed at Glorfindel’s breech-laces and virtually tore them loose. The captain gaped in surprised delight when his spouse dropped to his knees before him, freed his rigid shaft and promptly clapped his lips around the engorged flesh. Time came to a standstill for Glorfindel as Elladan hungrily sucked him to the brink of completion. Pushed past the edge, he groaned harshly and spilled himself quite copiously then gasped when Elladan drank him down.

“Valar, but you are eager!” he exclaimed when he found his breath once more.

Elladan laughed as he rose to his feet, already starting to undress as he did. “I have thought of naught but this moment since the dawn we parted,” he retorted. “I have missed you so much, meleth.”—love.

Glorfindel’s eyes darkened with desire. “Not more than I have yearned for you,” he declared. “This is the last I will suffer so long a separation from you, Elladan!”

He caught his spouse in a crushing embrace and a ravaging kiss. How they managed to strip off the remainder of their clothing, they could not be certain. All that mattered was to leave nothing but skin between them ere they lay themselves down upon Glorfindel’s wide pallet.

Elladan broke their kiss long enough to take notice of the uncommon width of the bedding. “You came prepared,” he grinned.

Glorfindel grinned back and said: “With you, ‘tis prudent to always be prepared.” He rolled Elladan onto his back and spread himself atop the twin. “Not to mention provident.”

He preempted any more remarks with a spate of scorching kisses, supping deeply of the sweet confines of Elladan’s mouth. It simply had been too long and the addition of the fears wrought by war had whipped his desire to such a peak that he could scarce keep himself from simply burying himself in his lover’s body.

He forced himself to slow down – somewhat. It was not easy at all and he had Elladan crying out here and then from the sheer intensity of his sensual assault. It seemed not an inch of creamy skin would be left unmarked by suckling lips and nibbling teeth if the telltale bruises on Elladan’s throat, shoulders, arms and chest were any indication.

“Ah, sweet Eru!” Elladan moaned when his nipples were mauled to a scarlet hue while a grasping hand gripped him and began to stroke him lustily.

Glorfindel impatiently parted his lover’s thighs and knelt between them. Without letting go of Elladan’s shaft, he summarily reached behind his spouse with his other hand and pushed his fingers into him. Elladan arched, instinctively surging against the incursion. With a hoarse cry, he came to completion, his seed dappling his belly and Glorfindel’s fist.

Elladan fell back with a weak groan, his sudden release winding him for a moment. He presented a sight too delectable to resist for the already ravenous captain. Hissing with the effort not to spend himself over-soon, Glorfindel delayed no further in taking his pleasure.

Elladan gasped as the captain shoved his turgid length as deeply as possible into him. He clutched at Glorfindel’s arms, struggling to adjust to so sudden and thorough a breaching. The captain went still, barely holding on to the last strands of patience, unwilling to cause any further discomfort for his mate. Elladan drew a deep breath, opened his eyes and, with a smile, nodded his readiness.

Glorfindel’s control snapped and he drove into Elladan repeatedly with almost brutal force. Yet it was exactly what the twin desired, this feral, primal joining that made their reunion all the more real to him.

They moved together in ecstasy, every lunge of Glorfindel’s hips met by Elladan’s accommodating bucks. The darkling prince curled a leg around the golden captain’s hips and pressed into him with his heel, as if to push him in even more deeply. He reached up and pulled Glorfindel down to meet his waiting lips. Their mouths melded in near savage rapture. Their hard bodies slipped and slid against the other with every sheathing of flesh within flesh.

It did not take them long to explode together in utmost bliss, their bond heightening every thought and sensation between them. It did not take them long either to embark on another round of loving as soon as their bodies recovered from the first. Nor was the second the last.

They finally shared their respective experiences of the War during a lull in their couplings. Glorfindel’s swift recounting of the battles in Mirkwood, Dale, Erebor and Lórien was in contrast to Elladan’s more halting narration of the eerie ride through the Paths of the Dead, the anxious journey down Anduin, the brutal fight on the fields of the Pelennor, the somber meeting of the Captains of the West and the final desperate battle before the very gates of Mordor.

“I truly thought ‘twas the last battle I would ever know,” the twin murmured. “I was not afraid of death but I did not wish to break my promise to you. I did not want to leave you alone yet again with nary a word of farewell. I rued the oaths that had parted us once more. I have never done so before, Glorfindel.”

The captain held him tightly. Elladan had echoed the sentiment in his heart and for warriors of their mettle to think thusly spoke volumes of the feelings they held for each other, both the love and the need.

“Then you will quest no more?”

“I am done with it. This war has drained me of all my rancor. I will still defend what is mine to protect. But I will no longer seek out evil. Let evil come to me if it dares.”

Glorfindel felt a mighty surge of relief. “That gladdens me,” he whispered.

They lay in companionable silence for a spell. At length, Elladan looked at Glorfindel, a hint of anxiety in his grey eyes.

“Are you in haste to return to Aman?” he inquired.

Glorfindel frowned. “Not truly. Why?”

“Legolas has expressed a desire to establish a colony of Elves out of Mirkwood in Ithilien. ‘Tis a province of Gondor, just across Anduin from Minas Tirith. A lovely place, Glorfindel, with forests far more beauteous than any I have seen in the North. ‘Tis rightly named the Garden of Gondor.”

“I can see why Legolas would be enamored of such a place,” the captain said. “But why a colony there? What of his father’s realm?”

“Legolas wishes to aid Estel in the rebuilding of his kingdom. In its healing. He and Gimli have offered him what succor they can give.”

Glorfindel looked keenly at his Peredhel mate. “Will Legolas leave Middle-earth one day?”

Elladan nodded. “He has told Elrohir that he wills stay only for the duration of Estel’s reign. After that, he will sail for Valinor.”

“Meaning Elrohir will forego sailing with your father until then.”

“Aye.”

“And you wish to stay on as well.”

“We both do. Estel is dear to us and we would help him if we can. And we would also keep company with Arwen until – well, until the end.”

“But what of the edict laid upon you that you must go with your father or forfeit your immortality?”

Elladan smiled faintly. “Legolas will become steward of Elrohir’s immortal flame in Father’s place when they bind,” he explained.

“Ah, then you are asking me to stay on as steward over yours,” Glorfindel concluded.

“‘Tis a request, not a demand,” Elladan hastened to say. “If you feel you must leave, then I will go with you.”

Glorfindel smiled and shook his head. “Nay, I feel no great urge to return soonest. I wish to abide wherever you are, Elladan. So long as you are at my side, I am content. Finish what you must, seron vell.”—beloved. He reached for Elladan’s quiescent shaft and lazily stroked it, enjoying the feel of it beginning to stir and lengthen under his caressing fingers. “I will serve you as faithfully as I served your father.”

Elladan stared at him in bemusement. “Serve me?” he repeated, trying to ignore for the moment the pleasurable sensations in his groin.

“But of course,” Glorfindel grinned. “You will be Lord of Imladris once Elrond sails and I your captain.”

The older twin looked horrified. “You are my bereth!”—spouse! “You will not serve me!”

“Yet Elrohir will also serve you when you assume your father’s mantle,” Glorfindel pointed out. “And he will do so with great pride as will I. Do not shy from what we offer you, Elladan. ‘Tis given in love and trust and not out of mere fealty.”

Elladan sighed. “‘Tis not what I had in mind,” he grumbled. He suddenly shook his head vehemently. “Nay, ‘tis not I that you will serve but Imladris! I will have neither of you treating me any differently than you do now!”

Glorfindel chuckled. “But I find it a great pleasure to serve you, melethen.”—my love. “Or should I say ‘service’ you?”

Elladan did not respond by way of protest or assent. He could not when his very breath was stolen from him by the engulfment of his shaft in his mate’s mouth. What had been slowly awakening with languid fondling promptly hardened into full arousal with vigorous suckling.

Satisfied with Elladan’s state of readiness, Glorfindel anointed his moist length with their combined nascent seed. Without further ado, he straddled Elladan’s groin and gloved the turgid flesh with his body. His dear mate’s drawn out rapturous groan was more than ample reward for his efforts.

The remainder of their waking moments for the night was devoted to wringing the greatest pleasure from this last coupling. They did so with as much joy and lust as they could muster in celebration of their pact never to be parted again for longer than either could bear.

*********

The elven cavalcade set forth for the capital of Rohan early the next morn. They would stay one night in Edoras before departing on the journey to Minas Tirith.

Elladan’s face glowed with a felicitous smile; he was wonderfully refreshed by a full night spent in Glorfindel’s arms. He glanced fondly at his spouse who had dropped back to have a quick word with Erestor who rode immediately behind with his wife and children. His eyes strayed to several Geledhil who rode abreast with the counsellor’s family. Amongst them were the guard-brothers, Haldir and Orophin. He wondered where the third, Rúmil, could be.

“He is at the rear of the Galadhrim, behind Grandsire and Grandam,” Elrohir informed him, neatly guessing at his puzzlement. “And looking most poorly I must say.”

Elladan frowned and took a swift look back to where their grandparents were. Sure enough, the Elf in question trailed behind them and, as Elrohir had put it, appeared far from hale. That worried Elladan. Whatever his dalliance with Rúmil had cost him, he could not wish any evil on the Galadhel. With a nod at Elrohir, he slowed his steed until Orophin caught up with him.

“What ails your brother?” Elladan asked the warden, tilting his head in Rúmil’s direction. “If he were not an Elf, I’d say he looks positively ill.”

“Not ill, hiren”—my lord—“but sick at heart mayhap,” Orophin said wryly. “My brothers and I were quartered in the tent next to yours last night.”

Elladan gaped at the Galadhel for a moment. Then he remarked: “You are remarkably calm about his distress.”

Orophin shrugged. “Rúmil is no greenling in affairs of the heart,” he replied. “And Haldir and I did counsel him to move to another tent when you arrived. But, as usual, he did not heed us and thus must suffer the consequences of his mulishness.” He regarded Elladan amiably. “You are kind to trouble yourself over our affairs however trivial. I wish you joy and contentment in your binding. And also a stout heart. I for one would be too timid to take on such a one as the Balrog slayer!”

Elladan had to laugh at the Elf’s last comment. “Aye, a stout heart is indeed necessary with my lord Glorfindel,” he agreed with a smile.

He returned to his place at Elrohir’s side. Before he could speak, Glorfindel returned as well, a golden eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“What need had you to confer with Orophin?” he asked.

The brethren grinned. There was no mistaking the slightest hint of suspicion in Glorfindel’s tone. Elrohir gibed: “And would you care were it any Elf other than Rúmil’s brother?”

Glorfindel laid a severe glare on his law-brother. But it did not quite have the effect on the Elf-knight that it ought to have had for Elrohir was actually pleased with this show of possessiveness over his twin. Elladan hastened to intervene before his brother turned a simple exchange into a verbal battle and told them what Orophin had said.

To his surprise, while Elrohir guffawed over the story, Glorfindel beamed with what he could only call smugness.

“I thought he would,” the captain said. “He is indeed of a mulish disposition.”

“You thought he would?” Elladan repeated. “What do you—?” He gasped in astonishment. “You knew they were in the tent next to ours and did not tell me?”

“Yea, I knew. And pray tell, why should I have told you? So that you would temper your passion to spare his sensibilities? I think not!”

Elrohir’s restrained hilarity escalated into raucous laughter while Elladan could only stare at his fair spouse, not quite certain whether he was aghast or delighted by the manner of Glorfindel’s retribution against the Elf who had done him injury.

“‘Twas only poetic justice,” Glorfindel calmly pointed out.

Elladan groaned before his sense of humor got the better of him and he joined his spouse and brother in mirth.

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

Glossary:

Nórui – Sindarin for June

Geledhil (sing. Galadhel) – Tree-elves

Galadhrim – the Elves of Lothlórien

To be continued…
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Twilight Tales - The Captain's Guerdon