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Greenleaf & Imladris 13 - The Choices We Must Make	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 5824 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 1
- 2
- 3
Part II

Melthoron practically scurried down the corridor to his bedchamber one night a week later. It was way past the midnight hour and all was silent in the residential pavilion save for the sound of his light footsteps. In the stillness, they seemed uncommonly loud.

The Crown Prince of Mirkwood darted into his room as if a pack of Wargs were on his trail. He swiftly shut the door and sagged against it. So flustered was he that he did not notice that though his windows and balcony door had been opened to let in the fresh night breeze, the draperies were drawn thereby shutting out moon and starlight. And since not a single taper had been lit, the room was steeped in darkness so deep he could barely make out the contents of his room. Mayhap he preferred it that way. The dark hid his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance even from himself.

His heart beating erratically, Melthoron staggered blindly to the wide four-poster bed, ripping off his cloak as he did so, and sank down shakily. He flinched and groaned as certain body parts protested almost at once. Elbereth! What had he been thinking? Why had he allowed that? His thoughts wandered back unwillingly to the events of the evening.

Since the advent of the Peredhil in Greenwood, a society of Elves who dared to explore their duality had come into being in the Woodland Realm. Always painfully discreet, these Elves met in secret in selected residences where they could be open about their loves and lives. Typically the larger gatherings were held in the more spacious multi-chambered homes of Wood-elves of noble birth while smaller homes hosted more intimate affairs. In these havens, they could freely unite with their loved ones and voice their frustrations and joys. And in these hidden refuges, they could experience as much or as little intimacy as they desired without fear of discovery.

Not all were involved in long-term relationships. Some simply went to these gatherings in search of the fleeting satiation of a casual coupling. And for the few who were wary even amongst kindred souls, these meetings were especially attractive because of the anonymity they afforded to those who were not prepared to unveil themselves.

They were always dimly lit, these sanctuaries. Partly to accommodate those who wished to conceal their identities, partly to avoid calling attention to the residence in which a gathering was occurring. Of course, for the greater number with no need to hide, there were always adequately illuminated chambers at their disposal. And anyway, with time, even the shyest or most timid came to trust their fellows and revealed themselves, thus sharing in the freedom of unwariness the others enjoyed. All save one.

When Melthoron first heard rumor of this secret society within the bounds of Mirkwood, he’d thought to confirm its existence with the object of exposing its members to the greater population of the Woodland Realm. Though the participation in same-kind relationships was no longer treated as a criminal offense as had been the case during Oropher’s time, those who were proven to be involved in such activities were usually ostracized to the extent that they were either forced to renounce their partnerships or leave Mirkwood for more friendly realms.

And so the prince had managed to learn of the time and location of one gathering and attended it incognito. It was fairly simple to do so. A heavy cloak with its hood up, the dim lighting, the understanding that not all Elves who came desired to reveal themselves. Melthoron went. And found he could not expose these Edhil as he’d planned.

Something awakened within him when he witnessed the intimacies between paired ellyn or ellith.—male Elves or Elf-maids. Curiosity at first. Then bemusement that he should be curious. And finally and improbably, unexpected arousal and desire.

That had shocked him to near witlessness the first time he recognized his feelings. It had spurred him to be even more vicious in speaking out against those very same Elves who inspired the feelings in him. It was part foolish reprisal against them for unknowingly upsetting his life and part insurance that no one would suspect him of harboring these unnatural proclivities when he so actively opposed them in public.

But he could not stay away. Not from what beckoned so seductively to his very spirit until, finally, he began to tread at the periphery of their activities. A passionate grope here, a flurry of kisses there, always in the darkest shadows where even elven eyes could not make out features enough to identify the other. He’d spent himself on occasion in the capable hand of one partner or the other but had never gone any further than rabid fondling; that Mirkwood warriors were known to do so on occasion when far afield was an excuse he clung to no matter how spurious.

But tonight! He groaned and fell back on his bed, staring blindly at the invisible ceiling. What had possessed him to allow things to proceed that far?

By now, he knew most of the Elves who belonged to the society. He’d been quite shocked to discover not a few prominent names amongst their number including respected nobles, highly regarded scholars and renowned warriors. He’d avoided trysting with them, fearing they would recognize him since they moved in the same circles. He was extremely cautious about being caught. It would not only be personally humiliating but would also produce the biggest scandal to hit Mirkwood since Thranduil precipitately wed Ithilwen when she’d carelessly allowed him to get her with child.

Tonight, he’d sat by himself in a corner of the darkened common hall as he always did when he attended one of these gatherings. Sooner or later, someone would approach either to inquire as to his comfort or to proposition him. When it was the latter, he always made his limitations clear at once and so matters never progressed beyond whatever couch he happened to have seated himself in from the start.

But this evening, an Elf had sat by him uninvited and engaged him in hushed conversation. He couldn’t tell who the other was since he, too, was cloaked and hooded. But he was soon beguiled by the stranger’s droll wit, obvious bodily beauty and seductive appeal. One thing had led to another and before he knew it he was unmoored by kisses and touches that rendered his brain all but incapable of doing what it had been created to do. Which was why when his companion softly suggested they go somewhere more private...

“I trust you are recovered from your earlier exertions?”

If an Elf could experience a heart attack, Melthoron came very close to doing so now. He bolted to his feet in shock, his heart thumping madly, his breath coming in short, erratic spurts.

“Who—?!” He became aware of a shadowed figure seated in the armchair by the cold hearth. “How did you get in here?” he demanded, somewhat stupidly on reflection.

“‘Tis simple to get anywhere if one knows one’s way around,” the stranger murmured. Melthoron frowned. Somehow he sounded...where had he heard that voice before? “I would not do that if I were you,” the intruder added when the prince opened his mouth to call for the guards. “Not if you wish the whole of Mirkwood to know where you just spent your evening. And a very dissolute one I must say.”

Melthoron stared, appalled, at the other Elf. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he blurted out at length.

“Then let me elucidate. This night, a certain Elf came to the gathering at Lord Grithnir’s home seeking, shall we say, congenial companionship. As he has gone to several others in the past five years or so. Always cloaked, always hidden, always silent save for the sparest of whispered utterances. None know who he is for he alone refuses to give even a hint as to his identity. He is recognized only by the mithril clasp with which he fastens his cloak.”

“But tonight, this Elf met another whom he apparently could not resist. He allowed himself to be drawn into a private chamber, permitted more than just the usual kisses and caresses. For the first time, he knew the full pleasures of intimacy with another ellon.”—male Elf. “That Elf was you, Melthoron of Mirkwood.”

“Nay, that – that is a lie!” The prince was virtually shaking in his fine leather boots.

“A lie? Were your moans of satisfaction a lie as well? Or the seed you spent so copiously upon the sheets?” Mild amusement limned the other Elf’s voice at the prince’s horrified countenance. “Or the reason for the unusual scar you bear on your thigh? A broken branch that dug into it when you fell during a hunt several years back, you said. Was that a lie, too?”

The world came to a stop as the familiarity of that maddeningly seductive voice suddenly became more acute.

Melthoron gasped. “You?”

“Aye, me.”

The fair-haired Elf sat down upon the edge of his bed, his knees giving way at last. “What is it you want of me?” he demanded hoarsely. “Would you have me in thrall to your demands?”

A husky chuckle reverberated through the room. Unbidden, it sent a thrill of excitement up the prince’s spine much to his disconcertment. The Elf rose, revealing a lean form clad in naught but a thin, form-hugging shirt and tight long breeches. About his shoulders spilled dark, lush unbound locks.

“Have you in thrall, my prince?” he softly said. “Nay, but I would have you again.”

Before Melthoron could move, the other Elf had him flat on the bed, pinning him down with the ease of one who was well versed in the love-arts. Shock blunted the crown prince’s otherwise battle-swift reflexes. Before he could mount a counter-attack in earnest, his assailant reached between them, tore open his already loosely laced breeches and had him in hand. He groaned and collapsed completely, gasping and trembling as skillful hands worked him to near excruciating arousal.

“Relax and enjoy yourself,” the Elf crooned as he made short work of Melthoron’s garments. “This is but the beginning for I intend to deliver you into rapture many times before the light of day.”

Melthoron succumbed to his partner’s masterful attentions.

********

Hours later, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood awoke with a start, his long legs tangled in the cool white sheet with which he had been thoughtfully covered. He winced as he rolled onto his side, his backside throbbing with unaccustomed rawness. But that was to be expected after having been ridden to near senselessness and sharpest pleasure several times in one night. He squinted into the still dimness. Dawn was just breaking and the window and balcony draperies were still drawn.

He became aware of the figure leaning against the wall by the balcony, looking at him. Fully dressed, he realized with a jolt, and his dark hair neatly bound into a style he found different yet unaccountably familiar.

He sat up gingerly and stared at his bold bed-teacher. The other Elf said nothing.

“Who are you?” Melthoron finally asked.

“Why do you wish to know?” the Elf softly challenged. “So that you may hound me out of Mirkwood?”

“Nay, of course not!” Melthoron objected. “I could hardly do that when you--” He halted, feeling his stomach lurch at the thought of the hold this Elf now had on him.

“And what of the others?” his companion pointed out. “You infiltrated their band that you might expose them. Were it not for the revelation that overtook you, I have no doubts they would have been revealed to Mirkwood years ago. Indeed, you always speak quite vehemently against Elves who love their own kind though I wager ‘tis partly to throw off any suspicions that you had taken to exploring your dual nature.”

Melthoron swallowed hard. “I will not pursue that course,” he finally said. “I concede I may have need of – of...”

“Sanctuary?” At the prince’s hesitant nod, the dark-haired Elf said: “You will come to know where your heart lies; whether ‘twill be an ellon or an elleth that will stir you will matter not. Or you may never give your heart to any one Elf at all. That is perfectly acceptable as well. ‘Tis is your right to choose, Melthoron. ‘Tis the right of all Edhil.”

The prince sighed. “So I was told by somebody recently. But I did not wish to accept it.”

“And now?”

“I have no choice, do I? Though I cannot be open about this. Mayhap I never can. I am still the Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm and as such must uphold the laws of this kingdom.” He looked at his one-night lover. “But this much I can do. I swear I will stay my hand and tongue in this matter. Is that what you want?” At the other’s nod of assent, he pleaded, “Now, please tell me, who are you?”

The Elf grasped the draperies and pulled them aside. The hazy light of early morning flooded the chamber and illuminated his features.

Had Melthoron chosen to howl his shock, it would have been enough to rouse all of Mirkwood and neighboring Esgaroth besides. As it was, all he managed was a strangled gasp of recognition tinged with equal parts disbelief and awe.

********

“Is it my imagination or is Melthoron more civil towards the two of you these days?” Legolas inquired.

He and the brethren were lounging by the drill yard, watching the newest and youngest batch of Mirkwood warriors go through their paces.

“Nay, you are not imagining things, Calenlass,” Elrohir demurred. “He has been admirably civil and has even deigned to converse quite politely with us on occasion.”

Legolas noticed the slightest quiver in the younger twin’s lips, which indicated a tightly suppressed desire to laugh. He gazed suspiciously at the Elf-knight then at Elladan who was pursing his lips for the same reason as his brother.

“I wonder what wrought this change?” the prince commented, keenly studying his friends. “Oh, and only this morn he rebuked several counsellors for suggesting that Adar”—Father—“come down harder on Elves who practice their duality. ‘Tis a thing unheard of where my brother is concerned!”

Elladan smiled so gently Legolas at once found it suspect. The older twin said very softly: “Well, he can scarcely allow such harsh measures when more than one Mirkwood prince has had a Peredhel up his backside.”

For the space of a heartbeat, Legolas stared at him blankly, the enormity of the simple statement too great to register all at once. And then he gaped at the older twin in utter speech-stealing shock prompting Elrohir to dissolve into silent, shoulder-shaking laughter. For the longest while, the prince remained thusly. When he finally found his tongue, he could only inadequately mutter, “That must have been quite a lesson...”

Hidden a short distance behind them by the gnarled thick trunk of an ancient tree but still within earshot, Nimeithel just managed to stifle her own gasp of surprise. Melthoron? Bedded by Elladan? She peered around the tree to regard the older twin. An odd mixture of pangs of unwonted jealousy and a coursing of desirous admiration burned through her being.

Ai, what madness had come upon her that she should feel this way about Elrond’s older son? Of all the Elves in Arda, why Elladan who saw her as nothing more than his friend’s little sister?

It was a most improbable and impossible situation.

*******

The brethren stayed until May. With Melthoron’s unruly tongue miraculously tamed insofar as the twins and elven duality were concerned, no more untoward incidents occurred and the scions of both the woodland kingdom of Mirkwood and the valley realm of Rivendell enjoyed each other’s company to the fullest. To the royal household’s amazement, Melthoron actually joined in some of the revels thought up by his youngest brother and the twins. It was such unprecedented behavior that many wondered if the crown prince had taken leave of his senses. But as he seemed in full possession of them, everyone eventually concluded that he’d simply grown up at last.

But delightful as the brethren’s visit was, their stay had to end and, as summer encroached, they made preparations to depart. Legolas did not hide his distress that they would soon take leave of Mirkwood. Ever loath to dispense with their company, he complained that they were much too stingy of late with their fellowship what with their errantry and journeying. It was nigh twenty years since last he’d been with them. Would it be another score before they met once more?

Heedful as always of Legolas’ sentiments, Elrohir sought to rectify matters. After feeling Legolas’ doleful gaze upon him as he packed the last of his belongings the eve of their departure, he straightened up and looked at the prince.

“We need not wait so long before meeting again,” he said. “Elladan and I plan to rest a year in Imladris before we go hunting once more. If you would care to visit us in the spring...?”

“Only in the spring?” Legolas scowled.

The Elf-knight chuckled. “Nay, we would be pleased to have you stay for as long as you can. What say you?”

Legolas considered the prospect of spending most of the following year’s spring, the whole of summer and part of autumn in Rivendell. A grin curved his lips and his eyes glowed with pleasure.

“Done!” he enthusiastically agreed. “Look to the east as soon as the first blossoms awaken, gwador nîn.”—my sworn brother.

Elrohir smiled. “I will, Calenlass.”

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

Glossary:

Edhil – Elves

Peredhel – Half-elf

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

To be continued…
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Greenleaf & Imladris 13 - The Choices We Must Make