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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26418 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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 XXIII

Imladris, lairë T.A. 250

“'Tis ironic that he of all my sons should be the first to bind himself in wedlock,” Thranduil commented. “The babe of the family has overtaken his brothers.”

It was summer in Rivendell and the sun rode low in the sky as the afternoon swiftly waned. On this most golden of days the Elves of the Last Homely House had put forth all their energy to make the first binding in Elrond's family since the Peredhel lord's own a most memorable occasion. The long banquet tables were laden with the finest delicacies known to Elf-kind and the housekeeping staff had dressed up the grounds with garlands of the most fragrant blooms and greens to be had and hung festive lanterns from the trees. Elrohir and Legolas would wed amidst the understated splendor of the Last Homely House's vast garden.

The Elven-king had arrived a week ago in the midst of the flurry of activity, accompanied by his older sons. Aelluin and Elivorn would return to Greenwood straightly after their brother's binding rites for their forest kingdom needed governing. But Thranduil and Galvreth and Lalorn would stay on for the remainder of the summer. He would never openly admit it but the woodland monarch was feeling sentimental about the marriage of one of his sons.

“May I assume that Elivorn will not be long in following?” Elrond inquired, his eyes straying to the dark-haired prince who strolled about the garden with his fair maiden love. They were formally betrothed and Elivorn had insisted that she join him for this joyful event.

“Aelluin as well if Gilthalion does not wish to incur my displeasure,” Thranduil added with a wry smile. “And if his wooing proceeds without any hindrances, Lalorn may soon take a bride.” After a thoughtful spell, he glanced with a slight frown at Galvreth who was conversing with Glorfindel and Erestor.

Elrond followed his gaze and stifled a sigh. He knew that if Thranduil could have his way, the Elven-king would have all his children settled down forthwith. Thanduil was looking forward to having about him the extended family he himself never had.

“You will be awash in grandchildren when Elivorn and Lalorn marry,” Elrond said, adroitly skirting the issue of Galvreth's lack of marital plans.

“Aye, and my household will likely rue it if my sons' progeny are anything like themselves and their brothers when they were growing up,” Thranduil replied. He glanced at Elrond curiously. “But what of you, my friend? Methinks your sons will not beget grandchildren for you and your lady. Do you regret their choices?”

Elrond smiled and shook his head. “'Tis more important that my children choose as I and share eternity with us.”

“Ah, then Elrohir…?”

“Would make a poor mate for your son if he did not pledge himself to Legolas' eternal care.”

Thranduil's eyes gleamed with pleasure. “My felicitations then.” He considered his silver-haired son once more. “Mayhap Elladan will find good cause to choose as his brother.”

“I dearly pray that is so,” Elrond agreed. The two prospective law-fathers whiled away what remained of the afternoon reminiscing over the past, only pausing to inspect the vintages the wine steward had chosen for the occasion. Come nightfall, they also took a moment to praise little Arwen when she prettily presented herself for their approval in the manner of maid-children the world over.

After listening to Thranduil bestow lavish compliments on his delighted daughter, Elrond glanced up at the darkened sky. The stars were beginning to peek out one by one. He addressed the Elven-king beamingly. “Come, it is time.”

He and the woodland monarch walked back to the house. But the other members of their families made their way to the center of the garden where tall torches had been arranged in a wide circle. Celebrían took her place within with Elladan and Arwen while Thranduil's sons ranged themselves on the opposite side.

Outside the circle, the Elves in attendance gathered about, only leaving open a flower-strewn path from the house. In the hush that followed, a single voice lifted in song to the strains of flute and gittern. Eyes turned to the path in time to see Elrond emerge from the garden porch where he paused a moment until his younger son came to his side. Mutterings of appreciation greeted Elrohir's appearance.

In keeping with elven nuptial tradition, he was clad primarily in white from his silken shirt to his formal hose and dress boots. But over this he had donned a knee-length brocade tunic in the lightest shade of gold possible, almost the color of sparkling wine. It emphasized the warmer hue of his fair skin, a trait unique to the Peredhil. About his waist was a jeweled belt of ancient age and design, worn by his hallowed grandfather when he wed his beloved Elwing. Upon his brow was a small but perfect adamant set within a delicate mithril star mounted on a simple gold circlet.

His joy was readily apparent in his eyes for they were bright with an almost otherworldly light. There was no doubt that the younger twin was entering into a bond he wholly desired. A far cry from the day when he had signed a contract not for love of his heart's choice but to protect a child's innocence and wholeness of spirit.

Arwen darted from her mother's side to clasp him by his legs as soon as he stepped into the torch-lit circle. He leaned down and embraced his sister tightly, dropping a tender kiss on the top of her head. He adjusted the slender wreath of dainty forget-me-nots that crowned her dark hair before leading her back to their proud parents. Elladan held him close a moment and then they grinned at each other before taking their places facing the jovial Greenwood princes.

It did not take long before Thranduil led his last-born down the path. A hushed silence descended on all upon first sight of him. Legolas had never looked more innocent or comely as he did now, arrayed almost completely in pristine white, the artful silver embroidery and delicate crystal beading on his high-collared satin court tunic making him seem a fragile, ethereal creature rather than the primal warrior prince that he was. In Wood-elven fashion, he wore light shoes of palest grey. A cunningly woven silver circlet crowned his golden head. In the moonlight, his rich flaxen tresses shimmered like purest silk.

As soon as Elrohir laid his eyes on his woodland love, they darkened with unmistakable intent. A charming blush stained Legolas' cheeks when he came under his intended's covetous gaze. He was seen to tremble ever so slightly as he took his place before Elrohir and for a moment he was unable to lift his eyes to meet his gaze. When at last he did he was immediately ensnared by the Elf-knight's spell and perforce endured that desirous sweep of his beauteous self that also promised delights to come ere the night was over.

The young Elf was welcomed by his brethren with either hearty hugs or gentle brotherly teasing. This too was a great change from when he had known next to no attention from them and even less affection. It was a heartening sight and Thranduil was hard-pressed not to weep at the fulfillment of one of his dearest wishes. At length, when the Greenwood royals had taken their proper places, Elrond invoked the presence of the Powers that they may bear witness to this union of two souls.

The Elf-knight and Elven prince uttered their vows under the panoply of stars and the weight of a collective regard that was beyond mortal understanding. It was not an oppressive weight but rather a moving one that struck deep to the very centers of their hearts and intensified the import of their choice to commit to matrimony. Their oaths were simple and straightforward but were nonetheless so powerful and binding that even death could not render them null save if one or the other chose never-ending immurement within the Halls of Awaiting. It was always a solemn moment in the Firstborn's rite of marriage for the profundity of such a commitment was something even Elf-children were aware of.

Arwen and the other Elflings present watched with rounded eyes and mouths when the ritual bloodletting was performed, their awe growing when upon the sealing of the pair's vows with the mingling of their blood through their clasped hands, the scarlet wounds healed even as they looked on. But the removal of their silver betrothal bands and the loving exchange of the gold rings that signified their wedded state in the waxing brilliance of Eärendil's light promptly banished any childish fears and elicited many an enthralled 'ooh' and 'aah'.

With a mischievous smirk, Elrohir capped the ceremony by pulling Legolas flush against him and, instead of bestowing a chaste and proper kiss on him, virtually pillaged his mouth in flagrant foretelling of what he intended for his new mate that eve. What Thranduil made of it Elrond decided he would rather not uncover. But Legolas' brothers dropped their courtly manners and joined Elladan in lustily lauding his twin's audacity. When Elrohir finally released him, Legolas hid his reddened face in the Elf-knight's shoulder. It was one thing to behave the wanton when they were by themselves and jest about it after with his brethren, quite another when there were witnesses about, in particular his very own sire!

“He is indeed recovered,” Erestor was heard to wryly remark with a shake of his head. “I must extend my sympathies to Legolas.”

Glorfindel laughed. “You said much the same thing of yourself when we wed, melethen”-my love-he pointed out. “I do not hear you complaining overmuch these days.”

Erestor prudently declined to reply.

The newly bound pair did not stay long at the nuptial feast. And no one begrudged them their haste to depart soonest. It was plain they would not be passing their binding night at the Last Homely House but in some secluded haven of their choosing. And so once they had partaken of a light meal and participated in a few dances they slipped away with their families' respective blessings and a goodly supply of miruvor and heady ale courtesy of Elladan, delaying only long enough to doff their finery and change into plain tunics, long breeches and hardy boots.

They rode north for the most part in amiable silence, occasionally exchanging glances in the dark, both quite overwhelmed by the enormity of what they had just undertaken. Not that they regretted it in the least but still and all the knowledge of their eternal espousal was neither that simple nor swift to digest. They would revel in it but like all wedded couples they would learn the ways of marriage with the passage of years and not in the space of a single night.

When they arrived at their cabin, they spent a few minutes making it homely enough for their purposes. They had already stocked it beforehand for a sennight's stay and so all that was needed now was to light their bedside lamp, store the additional libations Elladan had given them and open the windows and the panels by the sleeping alcove. Legolas turned from sliding the last panel into place in time to see Elrohir pull the cover down the bed. The realization that consummation was finally at hand set his heart pounding madly.

The pounding worsened when Elrohir beckoned to him with a tilt of his head. Drawing a steadying breath, Legolas went to him. Sleekly muscled arms looped around him as soon as he reached the Elf-knight and drew him close for a lengthy, achingly tender kiss. It calmed him considerably and by the time Elrohir ended it he was quite a-prickle with anticipation once more.

“Two score years is a ridiculously lengthy wait,” Elrohir murmured. “Eru be praised that you have finally grown up.”

Legolas softly laughed. “Yet I wager I was the more impatient of the two of us,” he claimed.

“You would lose that wager, my prince,” Elrohir quietly told him.

Legolas looked at him skeptically. “Would I?” he said. “But you were always at pains to deter my efforts to seduce you.”

“Be grateful that I was well trained to do my duty. Else I would have bedded you as soon as your Greenwood custom permitted it even before I knew I loved you.”

The archer stared at the Elf-knight, his breath hitching. “You restrained yourself…?”

“By the skin of my teeth,” Elrohir affirmed. “Did you not suspect at all?”

Legolas dumbly shook his head, humbled by the revelation. Elrohir laughed under his breath and the sound was enough to set Legolas' skin simmering.

“Well, I would end the drought forthwith,” Elrohir murmured, hands reaching for the clasps on his tunic. “I suggest you strip as swiftly as you can, lassen vell”-my dear leaf-“if you wish to keep your clothes whole for another day.”

Spurred by the wicked gleam in Elrohir's eyes, Legolas hastened to comply. And yet he was not quick enough for hardly had he shed his tunic and boots and loosened his breech-laces when he was summarily borne down onto the bed. He gasped as he landed on the soft mattress, gasped louder when Elrohir yanked his breeches down his legs in one impatient motion. He would have protested such hasty handling save for the distraction of Elrohir's bared image before him.

It seemed so long ago when he'd stealthily watched the Elf-knight pleasure himself. He had not seen Elrohir in naught but his skin since. With innocent zeal, he let his eyes avidly roam over his spouse's resplendent graces.

So engrossed was he in studying Elrohir's body that it was some while before he realized that his mate was regarding him with similar appreciation. It struck him then that the Elf-knight had not beheld his fully naked form since before his gangly adolescence. Beneath that knowing argent gaze, Legolas of a sudden felt very young and vulnerable and unexpectedly afraid. With a shaky exhalation, he closed his eyes and raised a trembling hand to partially conceal his apprehensive mien.

“There is nothing to fear, melethron”-lover-he heard Elrohir say with a lilt of gentle laughter in his voice. “I will do nothing that you do not desire. Though in truth I cannot think of anything you would decline to try, my precocious Wood-elf.”

The bantering tone had the desired effect for Legolas opened his eyes and gazed back at Elrohir's mirthful countenance. Realizing that the act about to take place was meant for their enjoyment and not some test of endurance or skill, he slowly relaxed.

“I will be as gentle as possible if you wish it,” Elrohir offered.

Legolas let his eyes rake the Elf-knight's splendid frame. Meeting Elrohir's gaze, he shook his head and said with a brave smile: “You need not be gentle, rochiren”-my knight-“only - only have a care until I have learned some.”

Lean fingers slid through his fair hair until they touched one still over-warm cheek and caressed his skin. He sighed when Elrohir stroked his lips with his thumb, his eyes never leaving his face.

“It would be folly to leave you too raw for more than a ride or two,” Elrohir told him with a raffish grin. “I have no intention of passing this night in slumber.”

Legolas caught his breath. Galvreth had confided a little about his and Elladan's first tryst, including the older twin's near inexhaustible ardor. It was obvious that Elrond's sons were nigh identical in more than their physical appearance. If Elrohir was anything like Elladan in concupiscence, prowess or stamina, neither he nor Legolas would spend the night in wasteful repose.

“Elbereth preserve me,” he blurted out in some dismay.

Elrohir chuckled and bent lower until their lips were barely touching. “I have waited much too long to practice restraint now,” he murmured, his breath mingling with the archer's.

Before Legolas could respond, he sealed their mouths together while he blanketed his golden mate's quivering body with his own. Legolas moaned when for the first time he felt himself molded against Elrohir with nothing to separate them. Every movement against each other was akin to that of a flint being sparked particularly where their groins met and their shafts rubbed together. It did not take long ere he felt himself afire with almost unbearable desire.

Without breaking their kiss, Elrohir took his hands and drew them up to grip the base of the carved headboard. Only then did he end their lips' union and dipped his head to ply his mouth and tongue on the prince's white throat and shoulders. Legolas shuddered with every swipe of Elrohir's tongue or press of his mouth to his flesh, an occasional shallow bite eliciting a startled hiss from him. One reason for his extended hands soon became apparent in the spate of nips and kisses to the smooth inner flesh of his upper arms. If Elrohir meant to mark him as his, he was certainly being thorough about it, Legolas deliriously thought.

Unthinkingly, he arched his body into Elrohir's only to softly cry out when their shafts slid against each other in nigh excruciating bliss. Elrohir lifted his head and looked down at him with passion-darkened eyes.

“If you do not wish to finish this over-soon, you must stay yourself,” he instructed, loving amusement limning his lust-roughened voice.

Breathing unevenly, Legolas could only nod his assent. He bit his lip as Elrohir embarked on a downward exploration of his body. A moist tug on one nipple nearly undid his resolve however and he began to lower his hands to clasp Elrohir to him. But the Elf-knight caught his arms and, with a shake of his head, pushed them back up. Keeping a silver stare on his shivering spouse, he resumed his maddening suckling and laving of the prince's now peaked nipples. Caught by that commanding stare, Legolas was forced to watch him until sensation overcame him and he perforce closed his eyes.

Onwards Elrohir journeyed, as if Legolas' form were a yet unexplored landscape that needed detailed mapping. By the time he reached the sensitive juncture where sleek limbs met taut groin, Legolas was nearly beside himself with barely contained rapture. The sensual strain did not abate but only waxed when Elrohir pressed kisses to the top of his thighs ere nuzzling the golden curls that cradled his engorged shaft. With patent enjoyment, he lazily licked the delicate pouches of flesh underneath then drew his tongue along the rigid length before taking the entire column into his mouth.

Legolas heard someone sobbing breathlessly, realized it was his own self. Clutching tightly at the headboard in a bid to obey Elrohir not to lower his hands, he could not keep himself from lifting his hips and thrusting helplessly into the wet warmth that enclosed it. Nor did Elrohir stop him but cupped his bottom to abet his wanton bucks. It was as much his blatant savoring of Legolas' shaft as his ardent pleasuring of it that sent the prince careening wildly toward completion.

Calling out Elrohir's name, Legolas spilled a creamy stream down his darkling mate's throat, gasping as he was all but sucked dry. He lay quite still for several minutes, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. He felt Elrohir's hands on his flank and thighs, stroking them to sooth him while dropping tender kisses on his belly and groin.

“Valar! I will not last the night if you continue thusly,” Legolas hoarsely declared when he finally found the strength to open his eyes and look down at his spouse.

He whimpered at the sight of Elrohir's answering smirk. “You do not need to in order to be ridden well and long,” the twin cheekily replied while he shifted to kneel between Legolas' outspread legs, his hand slipping under to caress the cleft in the archer's rounded backside.

Legolas dropped his head back and groaned. “Ah, do what you will then,” he said. “I can see that my consent is of little consequence.”

Elrohir snorted. “As if I would force anything on you,” he mildly reproved. “Admit it, my sweet, you are not in the least averse to letting me have my way with you, awake or no.”

His pronouncement was accompanied by a slippery, probing finger. Legolas gasped when he felt the intrusion but Elrohir did not desist and slowly but firmly slid his finger into the archer's untried flesh. Wriggling, Legolas instinctively tried to pull away.

“Be still, Legolas,” Elrohir commanded. As if mesmerized, the prince did as he was told and stopped moving as much as he was able. But he winced when a second finger joined the first, the slight burn adding to his shock. “Heed this lesson well if you do not wish to cause me undue discomfort when you take me,” Elrohir softly advised him.

Legolas caught his breath and stared at him, suddenly aware of what Elrohir's counsel portended. Swallowing hard, he nodded wordlessly. Lying back once more, he put his mind wholeheartedly to learning what Elrohir sought to teach him. Gingerly stroking his fingers, Elrohir caressed something within him that caused molten heat to surge in his groin. The thought of likewise treating the Elf-knight inflamed him even further and he was soon pushing against Elrohir's fingers, taking them deeper into his body.

So enraptured was he that he protested when Elrohir withdrew his hand. But a scant minute later, he was gasping wildly anew. For Elrohir hooked his hands behind his knees and pushed them up. When the twin's warm tongue lapped at him where his fingers had previously been employed, Legolas wondered if the bliss could grow any greater. And when that talented tongue pressed into him, the archer knew that it could.

Only to discover that he had not reached his limit when, after a good breath-stealing while, Elrohir wedged himself between his thighs to replace his tongue with his seed-slick shaft. With a stab of apprehension, Legolas wondered if he could accommodate so formidable a sword. He looked up at Elrohir, vestiges of his earlier fear returning.

Warm hands cupped his face and sinuous lips caressed his. Elrohir gazed reassuringly at him. Be one with me, beloved.

A shuddery breath escaped the prince as the Elf-knight's thoughts brushed his mind. Recalling that he had yearned for this moment for far longer than he cared to remember, he resolutely hooked one slender leg around Elrohir's hip, opening himself fully to his mate. His arms wove about the twin's shoulders and he managed a tremulous smile.

Elrohir smiled back, eyes glittering with equal parts love and lust. He lifted Legolas' bottom slightly and, purposely ignoring the fair-haired Elf's gasping whimpers, slowly but steadily eased into him until he was completely berthed within, claiming his prince at last. It was a defining moment for them when in that instant they knew themselves to be in union in all senses of the word.

Legolas stared at Elrohir in felicitous disbelief, wonder at their joining slowly supplanting the initial pain of this first breaching. Reaching out in response to Elrohir's silent invitation, he felt their spirits meet and realized a bridge now spanned the natural divide that separated any two beings. Elrohir murmured his name with such gutting love and passion it set Legolas' heart all a-flutter. His eyes widened at the thought that this was but the beginning for they had not yet reached the summit of their loving. Could he survive such blinding bliss?

“Sweet Eru,” he moaned when Elrohir delivered the first thrust and fetched him a burst of purest pleasure. He clutched hard at the Elf-knight's shoulders with every subsequent plunge of rigid flesh into his body, gasping or crying out as he was caressed from within. Soon he was arching up into every lunge of Elrohir's hips and, no longer capable of lucid speech, begging his spouse through the communion of their minds to take him harder, deeper, faster.

Elrohir could not deny him even though granting Legolas' fervent request inevitably depleted his bodily restraint. Breathing harshly when the coil of pleasure in his gut tightened almost painfully, he reached between them to curl his fingers around Legolas' turgid length and firmly stroked it, relishing the feel of the hard, thrumming flesh. It proved too much for the archer.

The multiple sensations from without and within abruptly unraveled him and with a strangled keen he spent himself. Copious pearlescent seed coated Elrohir's fingers and dappled their bellies while silk-bound muscles closed convulsively around the Elf-knight's spearing length. That wrenched the last slivers of Elrohir's control from him and he drove deep into Legolas to spill himself fulsomely into the prince's satin core. Their joy and pleasure flowed uninhibitedly between them. Caught in love-thrall, they could only cling to each other and ride out the waves of the binding rapture, the first of a countless many in an eternal union. Their wedded spirits embraced in that uttermost intimacy unique to Elf-kind.

Elrohir paused to catch his breath before lifting himself off Legolas and carefully uncoupling their bodies. Legolas gazed at him with glistening eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their joining and suffering through the pangs of their bodies' separation. Elrohir offered him the haven of his arms and he hurried into them, pressing his face against his mate's neck. Elrohir held him tightly until his trembling diminished.

When he could speak coherently once more, the prince whispered: “Is it always thus? So strong, so joyful…”

“I cannot say for I have never known the like before,” Elrohir murmured against hid forehead.

Legolas stilled then looked up to meet the Elf-knight's gaze. He was astonished to see the moist gleam in Elrohir's eyes. “But you had lain with others afore me,” he said in hushed voice. “Surely you knew pleasure with them.”

“Pleasure, aye, and always some fondness,” Elrohir replied. “But only with you have I felt such shattering bliss. Or known this oneness of spirit.” He laid gentle fingers on the prince's lips. “You alone have I taken in love, Legolas.”

The archer could only stare at him in wonder and gratitude for several moments ere he moved close to kiss him with renewed desire. Passion blazed once more between them and their kiss turned wild and wanton. Locked in a spate of incendiary caresses, they molded their bodies together, long legs sensuously entangled.

Clutching Elrohir to himself as the Elf-knight pressed him down on his back, Legolas briefly wondered what it would be like to claim Elrohir for his own at last. But though the thought thrilled him to the core he realized it was a pleasure he preferred to consign to another day. Tonight he wanted to savor the bliss of being his Elf-knight's sheath. To be taken as oft as Elrohir could or desired and know the full force of his passion. The ache of his deflowering had subsided somewhat but even if it had not he could not wait. In any case, there was the whole of tomorrow to recover from this night's indulgence. And wherefore his elven resilience if he did not put it to good use once in a while and for such a worthy reason?

With a needful moan, he spread his legs and drew up his knees. Feeling the nudge of his mate's primed shaft, he tipped his hips upward until the rigid flesh cleaved him fractionally. Elrohir caught his breath at the blatant invitation then gazed at him in unfettered hunger. Without further ado, he pushed into his fair prince until he was completely sheathed. A smile of utter radiance graced Legolas' lips as he felt himself filled to bursting.

With a blissful sigh, he gave himself up to their shared desire.

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

Glossary:

lairë - Quenya for summer

gittern - medieval stringed instrument that was the forerunner of the guitar

adamant - unbreakable legendary stone; also the heraldic name for diamond (archaic)

miruvor - the cordial of Rivendell

sennight - abbreviation of seven nights; defunct Middle English term for a week

To be continued…
- 23
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- 25
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness