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Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6473 -:- 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
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Chapter II

The Last Homely House, Imladris

The warrior looked up from the report he was reading. Was someone calling to him?

“Elrohir!”

He peered out the window of their bedchamber and saw Legolas in the gardens below signaling to him to come down and go to the back of the house. The archer’s tone of voice brooked no delay or refusal to accede to his summons. With a sigh, Elrohir set aside the sheaf of parchment sheets and left the room. Now what?

Since the departure of Elladan and Nimeithel for Mithlond with Celeborn but two weeks ago, he and Legolas had seldom had a moment’s peace. Elendir and Elros were proving as much a handful as he and Elladan had once been though not necessarily for the exact same reasons.

Elrond’s sons had rocked Rivendell with the pranks they had enjoyed unleashing on the vale’s various inhabitants. But they had never courted danger for themselves or others in the line of mischievous duty and any visits to the healing chambers had been for the most minor of bumps, cuts and bruises. Elladan’s sons were a different case. They liked plaguing the valley’s citizens to distraction as much as their father and uncle once had but they were also inclined to end up in the hands of the healers simply because they were too exuberant for their own good.

They were constantly colliding with walls and trees and posts as well as each other and everyone else in the name of play. As soon as they had learned to climb they had tried out their skills on just about everything and anything that looked interesting. Thus, they had steadily progressed from tables to trees to the Last Homely House’s steep rooftops. Not a week seemed to pass that they did not make a trip to the healers for medical attention for gashes, abrasions and lumps. About the only thing they had not had to be treated for as yet, thank the Valar, were broken bones.

As Elrohir hastened to meet up with the archer, he thought a little uncharitably that, while broken bones were not in the least to be desired, a sprained ankle now and then would do the twins some good. Not to mention the beleaguered healers and all those they had targeted for one prank or another.

When he came out of the house, Legolas grabbed him by the arm and wordlessly led him beyond the stables to the poultry yard. Several servants were gathered around the enclosure that housed the fowl population of the Last Homely House. Elrohir came to a stop and stared bemusedly at their nephews’ latest handiwork.

The red-crested cocks and hens that normally strutted about with proud, almost arrogant elegance were staggering about, crashing into each other and anything else in their way. And they were clucking most idiotically and vociferously. If he did not know better, Elrohir would have thought them inebriated for they behaved as any drunkard would.

“What is wrong with them?” he asked worriedly, peering into the pen.

Legolas let out an exasperated breath. “Our dear nephews laced their feed with ale,” he said.

Elrohir stared at him in shock. Elbereth! The poor things were inebriated!

“And have you dealt with them?” he queried, wincing as a couple of hens stumbled over each other, then started a wobbly fight as a consequence.

“I confined them to the library for the day to help Lindir and Ailios catalogue the new books and scrolls,” Legolas said. “With luck, that should keep them out of trouble for a while. I hope.”

Elrohir sighed and shook his head. He grimaced in sympathy as he observed one amorous but unfortunately confused cock try to mount one of his fellows and receive a vicious peck for his trouble.

********

The Grey Havens, Lindon

Elladan looked up from his book as Nimeithel swept into their room in the seaward wing of Círdan’s house, the wispy skirt of her dressing gown trailing behind her. He set the book down to look at his wife with more than mere appreciation. The raiment she was clad in was very fetching indeed, especially since it hinted at the very delights it was supposed to conceal. His storm blue eyes darkened.

Thus far, they were enjoying their reprieve from raising their much loved but all too gamesome twins. Strolls by the pebbly shores of the gulf, relaxed sorties around Mithlond proper, late night trysts under the stars... As far as Elladan was concerned, the last was the most rectifying activity of all.

He had missed having his wife to himself. He had missed having his wife, period.

He grinned now as she slid enticingly onto the bed beside him, her eyes sparkling with far from innocent intent. He was about to teasingly ask her what she had in mind when she suddenly pulled the covers off him, baring him to her gaze.

Elladan did not blush, of course. He felt no shame or shyness with her. Not after all his countless years of carnal adventuring. But he was surprised at her forward behavior. Nimeithel was a most willing and wanton partner but he took the lead more oft than not in their couplings. After all, she had been a maid when he first loved her and as such had been under his tutelage in love-play for the better part of their relationship even unto their marriage.

“You are bold tonight,” he remarked softly as she let her grey eyes sweep and linger on his tall frame.

“With one as beautiful as you, melethen”—my love—“‘tis difficult to restrain one’s self,” she purred, slipping between his legs, nudging them apart insistently.

Again, he regarded her with some surprise. But he was distracted when her gown parted down the front to reveal naught but her own flesh to his gaze. He drew in his breath sharply as the very sight of her charms caused his groin to heat up deliciously. It was what she was waiting for.

With a smile of purest lust, Nimeithel dipped her head and proceeded to attend to her husband’s suddenly aching need. Elladan gasped at her audacity before deciding to let her have her way with him. It was not a difficult decision at all considering the delightful havoc she was wreaking upon him. Besides, she had proven a most adept pupil in this particular form of pleasuring him. Who was he to complain? He was not in the least averse to letting her indulge him through this well-taught act.

Caught in her sensual thrall, he did not notice what she was about. Did not realize how she intended to employ her lithe and slender fingers. Until she did.

Celeborn nearly leaped from his bed. Sweet Eru! Was that Elladan he had just heard? He was all set to race to the neighboring room when he suddenly recognized the nature of the sound that had awakened him. For a moment, the Elvenlord stared at the wall that separated him from his grandson. And then he groaned, got back into bed and pulled a pillow over his head.

The following morning dealt him another cause for discomfiture when Círdan mildly alluded to his inability to sleep soundly the night before. It was all he could do not to grab the shipwright by his beard when the latter had the cheek to tell him that it seemed his grandson had taken after him in such vociferous expressions of bliss if his memories of Celeborn’s long ago Lindon nights with Galadriel were accurate!

********

The Last Homely House, Imladris

Ordinarily, the study was the best place in which to report an infraction to the master of Rivendell. But on this day, it was the worst. Indeed, any enclosed space was highly unsuitable and Legolas thought Daurin should have realized it.

He did his best not to snicker as Daurin recounted his latest encounter with Elendir and Elros. Or rather with the jest they had played on him. It was difficult to keep a serious mien when Rivendell’s formidable captain smelled like a bouquet of varied blossoms, the aroma of it seeming to expand and deepen in the warmth of the chamber.

Indeed, Elrohir had risen to his feet and stayed by the open window behind Elrond’s august desk almost as soon as Daurin entered the room. It was the only way he could keep from passing out from the overpowering sweetness that emanated from the Imladrin captain. He glanced at his mate who sat by the other window and had to stifle his own smile. Yet he was also filled with exasperation anew, an emotion that seemed to be in great supply these days.

Daurin’s tale was but the latest in a string describing the escapades that would have done the twins’ parents proud had they been of a more productive nature. Unfortunately, replacing part of the captain’s herb-scented bath oil with a mixture of their mother’s flowery fragrances did not fall in that category. And even more unfortunate for the good captain, the lordlings had gotten wind of his habit of pouring the oil in after he had immersed himself in his bathwater and put the knowledge to effective use. Daurin had not sniffed the altogether feminine scent of the brew until much too late.

Both Elvenlords sighed with relief when the warrior exited the study, fanning the air in front of their noses most emphatically. The less than pleasing aroma of the combined scents of lavender, roses and gardenias lingered for a spell in the room. Elrohir looked across at Legolas with an expression that defied description.

“Count yourself fortunate that they have not turned their dubious talents on us thus far,” he remarked.

Legolas laughed. “Nay, they adore you too much to besmirch your dignity in any way. And if I have been spared, ‘tis simply because it would displease you were I to be similarly besieged.”

Elrohir grinned but shook his head. “You belittle your worth to them,” he said. “They do not touch you either because they worship you, Calenlass. As I do.”

The last he added under his breath, regarding his spouse with ill concealed wanting. Legolas felt his heart start to beat erratically. Just one look...

“They will have to be chastened for this latest misdemeanor,” he managed to say. “Have you decided on the manner of it?”

Elrohir continued to gaze at him, the glittering argent of his eyes darkening with each passing moment. “We will think of something suitable,” he said. “Later.”

And his manner of speaking, Legolas thought distractedly. Low and suggestive and all too beguiling. He swallowed hard as Elrohir beckoned to him to join him. Warmth suffused him as he moved to do as he was bid.

Elrohir sank down upon the windowsill and pulled him onto his lap, compelling Legolas to straddle his hips. A moment later, the archer was lost in a pillaging kiss that left him bereft of breath and thought while knowing hands mapped the hard planes and contours of his lean form. He surrendered to the intoxicating sensuality of the Elf-knight’s caresses.

He closed his eyes as the warrior’s lips followed the sculpted line of his jaw before slipping lower to nibble at his throat, dipping his tongue seductively into the hollow at its base. And then his mouth was captured anew and plundered voraciously, until he was shuddering with the pleasure of his imminent undoing.

Elrohir slipped his hand down between them and, with maddening slowness, began to stroke Legolas’ crotch with the flat of his palm. The archer groaned gaspingly against his mate’s silencing lips as he was deftly and inexorably brought to molten arousal. He tensed with delicious anticipation when he felt Elrohir tug at the lacing of his breeches.

The door burst open and slammed against the wall hard enough to leave a fine web of eggshell cracks on the surface. Elros rushed in prompting his uncles to swiftly break apart, Legolas springing to his feet, fervently hoping his long shirt would hide the telltale evidence of his arousal. He and Elrohir stared at the younger half of Imladris’ twin harbingers of disturbances.

Elros was quite a sight, his shirt muddied, his breeches torn at one knee exposing a nasty bloodied bruise, his hands crisscrossed with scratches and his temple hosting a rapidly purpling lump. Yet for all that, the lad was startlingly comely, promising to be as beautiful as his father and uncle when he came of age.

Elladan’s sons closely resembled him and his twin but traces of their woodland grandsire’s striking features gave them a look all their own. They were also more elven in their frames than their father or uncle and thus bid fair to be as slender as Legolas. But their most compelling features were their eyes, the dove grey irises intriguingly ringed by deep blue.

But this was not the time to indulge in idle contemplation of the twins’ beauteous luminosity.

Elrohir rose from the sill, prudently tugging his own shirt into place. Other Elves would have been alarmed by the youngster’s appearance but to the Elf-knight and his archer spouse, it was no more than the usual thing to expect of either twin.

“What happened to you, Elros?” he queried. “And where is Elendir?”

“I brought him to the healers, Uncle,” the youth said. “They think he may have broken his wrist.”

With admirable calm, Elrohir merely shook his head and said: “And what were you two doing that led you to this pass?”

Elros flushed with embarrassment. “We, um, got curious about Uncle Las’ new stallion,” he admitted.

Legolas rolled his eyes in active annoyance. “You mean you attempted to ride him,” he tartly corrected. When Elros reluctantly nodded, the prince added acerbically: “Considering that I have yet to break him in, you are fortunate ‘tis only your brother’s wrist that was broken. Ai, you two will never learn!”

Elros bit his lip then looked entreatingly at the Elf-knight. “Will you not come and see Elendir, Uncle Rohir? He is quite frightened.”

“As he should be,” Elrohir retorted. He strode out of the study, Elros hurrying after him.

Legolas heaved a frustrated sigh. Couldn’t the twins have waited until his need had been attended to? he thought sourly. He and Elrohir had not had a decent coupling since the youngsters had been left in their charge. There always seemed to be one situation or another involving them that needed their immediate attention, leaving little time for extended bed-play. He was beginning to understand Elladan’s oft voiced frustration. Scowling, he followed his spouse and nephew to the healing chambers.

Fortunately, the suspected break turned out to be nothing worse than a sprain. Both younglings were tended to swiftly. But Elrohir’s observant gaze brought something else to his attention.

He eyed his nephews severely. “Were you the only ones injured?” he questioned.

The lads flinched. Their guilty gazes darted to the neighboring room where a pair of healers was busy administering to two Imladrin warriors.

“Helmir and Dirion tried to help us when the stallion went wild,” Elendir admitted.

“And thus suffered hurt on your account,” Elrohir finished for him. “You have gone too far in this instance, pin nith.”—young ones.

The twins gulped. They oft pushed the limits of their elders’ tolerance but they were not so heedless as to draw their uncle’s well-known fearsome anger down upon them. Elrohir’s tone of voice held a warning: a faint one but very real nonetheless.

“I am in no position to chastise you for the jests you inflict on others,” Elrohir said sternly. “But to risk serious injury or worse to yourselves or anyone else is not only foolish but deplorable. You will apologize to Helmir and Dirion and make amends soonest for your misconduct. Do I make myself clear?”

Elendir and Elros bowed their heads in shame. “Yes, Uncle,” they whispered in tandem.

After both children departed for their rooms, Legolas clapped a hand on his darkling mate’s shoulder.

“Well done, Aduial,” he murmured. “They need to be disciplined here and then.”

Elrohir smiled wanly. “They are as we once were,” he sighed. “‘Tis difficult to fault them overmuch when Elladan and I did much the same in our foolish youth.”

Legolas shook his head. “But you were ever careful to avoid hurting anyone,” he said.

“Save for their pride,” Elrohir had to grin.

“Better their pride than their precious skins,” Legolas pointed out. “‘Tis something our nephews need to learn.”

He started when Elrohir suddenly snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“And you, ernilen?”—my prince?—he teased huskily. “What do you need?”

Legolas gasped as he was clutched anon below the waist. “You should know since ‘twas you who induced it,” he rejoined, trying for indignation and only managing compliance as his hips treacherously thrust into the warrior’s clever hand.

“Then let me take care of it,” Elrohir crooned mischievously, backing the archer up against the bed Elendir had just vacated.

“Here? Now?” Legolas almost choked. He looked about disconcertedly only to discover that everyone had discreetly left them alone.

“Here. Now.” Elrohir smiled wickedly and lowered his wide-eyed, crimson-cheeked mate onto the bed.

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

Glossary:

Calenlass - Greenleaf

Aduial - Twilight

To be continued…
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- 3
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Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble