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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6313 -:- 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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Epilogue: Soul’s Promise

As they rode out into the forest with the rest of the party, Legolas felt Elrohir’s gaze upon him and he glanced at the twin. A meaningful gleam lit the Elf-knight’s pewter eyes from within, making the archer blush. It reminded him all too vividly of what had passed between them this morn.

He had awakened from blissful slumber to the feel of Elrohir’s mouth upon his shaft, coaxing him out of sleep, teasing him into full awareness and a potent arousal. But the twin had wickedly declined to do anything further about that and lured him instead into the warm bath he had prepared for both of them.

Once in the balming heat of the bathwater, however, Elrohir had turned on him with roguish ardor, making every stroke and caress and kiss an incendiary gesture. Somewhere along the way, he’d found himself on a thick towel on the floor by the bath, writhing and gasping wildly whilst the twin finally paid loving attention to the rampant need between his thighs.

No sooner had he spent himself in Elrohir’s gifted mouth than the Elf-knight had taken him in turn, summarily burying himself to the hilt in the velvety confines of his ever so eager form. Then he’d driven relentlessly into him while his hands and mouth brought his body back to thrumming, thrashing life. The result of such treatment was explosive to say the least.

Legolas felt his blush deepen as he recalled the knowing grins upon the faces of their immediate neighbors in the nearby royal pavilion. Elladan and Nimeithel, Gimli, Glorfindel and Erestor, Elendir, and Elros and Lindir had not hidden their amusement at all when they met up later in the morning. As for their not-so-immediate neighbors – well, nothing could quite adequately evince the exasperated countenances of their respective parents. He could only imagine who else had heard his too fervent vocal expressions of pleasure and hoped not everyone had recognized the owner of said expressions! The hobbits, at least, seemed oblivious, thank the Valar.

Trust a Peredhil twin to make you lose all sense of propriety, he thought ruefully.

This morning both families and friends set out on a picnic. They made for the forest river that marked the boundary of the Woodland Realm. Here they would eat and drink and simply enjoy each other’s company. They did not mind when several other groups of Elves came to the river. It was, after all, a popular location for such revels, its beauty and serenity soothing to all and sundry. Besides, with the festival just over, it was not surprising that many Elves would seek ways to unwind from the festivities of the previous days.

After the meal, Legolas took a leisurely stroll along the riverbank while waiting for Elladan and Elrohir to conclude a lively debate with Erestor. He looked back and grinned as he regarded his spouse’s animated gestures. The twins had never done anything by halves; from the looks of it, Erestor was in for a long and fearsome discussion. Deciding to go back and help a nettled Glorfindel break up the rapidly escalating argument, he retraced his steps only to be suddenly hindered by an unexpected obstacle.

He glanced frowningly at the Elf who had barred his way and inwardly groaned. Bregon. It would have to be him. He forced a civil smile upon his face.

“My dear prince,” the other Elf cooed. “I could hardly believe my good fortune to find you here as well.”

“Good fortune?” Legolas commented. “Last I recall, I left you sitting in a pond. You can hardly wish to be in my presence after that incident.”

The Elf laughed with spurious penitence. “I do not hold it against you, golden one,” he said glibly. “I admit I had imbibed too much and may have been more forward than you were used to.”

Forward? Legolas thought incredulously. The fool had tried to take him right in Celebrían’s gardens! His smile turned visibly frosty. Unfortunately, such subtle nuances seemed lost on the brash Elf before him.

“Well, ‘tis pleasant to see you again,” Legolas lied through his teeth. “Now if you will excuse me...” He lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell.

To his shock, Bregon caught his hand in a steely grip. He stared at the other Elf, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You take too many liberties, Bregon,” he warned.

“Nay, I am but merely preempting another unfortunate flip into chill waters,” Bregon chuckled crooningly. “I have no desire to take a swim in the river this morn. As they say forewarned is forearmed. You are as mettlesome as you are beautiful, Legolas, but as you can see, I came prepared in case you tried that little trick on me again.” He leered suggestively at the prince. “A nice move, I must admit. Mayhap I should try it myself. You would look utterly stunning lying on your back, my fair one.”

Legolas was rendered speechless by the sheer crudeness of his pursuer. A slow rage began to build up within. What did this insolent creature take him to be? A tawdry bed-treat?

“You are quiet, my prince,” Bregon grinned smugly. “Mayhap you think my declaration lacking. Let me complete it thusly. You would look utterly stunning lying on your back and even more exquisite with the right Elf between your thighs.”

That was it! He was on the verge of beating up this pathetically hopeless idiot within an inch of his life when movement behind the latter caught his attention. Over the persistent Elf’s shoulder, Legolas espied a figure rapidly nearing him and Bregon.

He looked back at the other and with deceptive mildness said, “I think you’d best unhand me right now.”

Bregon smiled and replied, “I think not, cunn lend.”—sweet prince. “Not until you’ve given me some token of, shall we say, encouragement?” He lustfully beamed at the prince and raised the latter’s imprisoned hand to his lips.

A powerful hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. Bregon yelped as he was slammed against a tree with a very solid forearm rammed against his windpipe. He found himself lifted a few inches off the ground, goggling frantically as his air supply dwindled to nothing. A pair of silvery eyes glared icily at him.

“He. Is. Mine.” Elrohir’s voice seethed with barely contained rage. “Keep your hands off him lest you desire a prolonged stay in the gardens of Lórien!”

The twin abruptly let go of the choking Elf. Bregon fell in an inelegant heap, clawing at his much-abused throat. But a moment later, he was roughly hauled up by the scruff of his neck and unceremoniously hurled into the river, the Elf-knight coldly oblivious of his shrieks of terror.

After dusting off his hands disdainfully, Elrohir grabbed Legolas by the wrist and walked away, unmindful of the shocked stares upon them. Just as the warrior pulled him away, the archer glanced at the hapless, floundering Elf and called out, “I warned you!”

He allowed Elrohir to lead him a fair distance from the rest of party. He grinned as he listened to the warrior’s muttered oaths in Quenya, Sindarin, Westron and even a few choice words in Rohirric and Dwarvish. Suddenly, Elrohir came to a halt and turned on his heel to face Legolas.

“Lecherous, presumptuous knave!” he growled. “Just who is this Bregon to you?”

“He is merely an Elf who tried to seduce me before your rebirth,” Legolas answered with a small smile.

Elrohir’s eyes flashed furiously. “And just how did you respond to his enticements?” he demanded ominously.

The prince smirked. “I flipped him into the pond in your mother’s garden to douse his ardor.”

The twin stared at him in surprise though his anger did not completely dissipate. He laughed dryly. “Did you now?” he said. “Yet judging from his persistence, it seems his ardor was not doused enough.”

“It is now,” Legolas grinned. “Your return is timely, Elrohir.”

“So it would seem.”

Legolas wondered at his mate’s jealous response. “Melethen”—my love—“you were the only ellon whose touch I could bear, the only one I desired,” he softly said. “And now, you are the only Edhel I want. Do you not trust me?”

Elrohir cast a glance in the direction of the other Elves. With the exception of his and the prince’s immediate families and household members, the rest were watching them with ill-concealed curiosity. He frowned.

“Oh, I trust you, Legolas,” he replied. “But they are another matter. ‘Tis intolerable that they should continue to approach you in my presence.”

“You only recovered your memories but four days ago,” Legolas reminded him. “They do not know you recall our binding.”

Elrohir’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Then I think ‘tis time I made it clear once and for all just who you belong to, ernil daur.”—forest prince.

He suddenly pulled Legolas into a crushing embrace and, in front of everyone, kissed him with such burning zeal as to ensure no one would ever dispute his ownership of the youngest prince of Taur Galen. When he finally saw fit to end the kiss it was clearly apparent he had succeeded beyond measure for every Elf, ellon or elleth—male Elf or Elf-maid—who did not know of the full return of his memories, now looked on aghast. And amongst those who had sought to woo the archer despite his espousal to Elrond’s younger son, belated consternation as well. Some hastily made themselves scarce before the Elf-warrior’s baleful regard should be drawn to their shameful selves.

Flushed and panting slightly from Elrohir’s passion, Legolas humorously noted the mirth of Elladan and Nimeithel and their twins, the resigned demeanors of Glorfindel, Erestor and Lindir, Gimli’s rolling eyes, the wide-eyed stares of the hobbits and the long-suffering expressions on the faces of his and Elrohir’s parents.

He chuckled a little breathlessly. “I think you’ve more than made your point,” he smiled.

He did not doubt that word would spread swiftly that it was no longer safe to even look covetously at him, much less dare to approach him for anything more than platonic reasons. That was a relief the prince was looking forward to.

His blue eyes turned serious. “Never leave me again, Aduial,” he whispered, tilting his head so that his brow touched the Elf-knight’s.

Elrohir’s eyes softened and he solemnly murmured, “I promise, Calenlassen, I will never leave you again.”

Legolas smiled in joyful contentment. For this was one promise that would be kept. An eternity of love stretched out before them. There could be no greater bliss.

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

Glossary:

Edhel - Elf

Aduial - Twilight

Calenlassen - my Greenleaf

The End
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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight