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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26417 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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AN: (1) First of all, thank you for all the wonderful feedback for the last chapter and my apologies for this much delayed update. I can only plead the frenzied rush of the holidays. (2) In answer to the question about my take on elvish weddings - the only parts that might be considered canon would be the exchange of gold rings, the presence of the couple’s parents and the eternal nature of their wedding vows. Everything else you can consider my inspired *tongue firmly in cheek* interpretation of elven nuptial rites. (3) Finally, may the cheer of the season lift your spirits and may the coming year prove a happy and prosperous one. Happy Holidays to all!

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Chapter XXIV

Four days into the newly bound pair's seclusion the bucolic glade gleamed beneath the dawning sun's light in all its pristine serenity, the rippling stream a silver ribbon of clear and surprisingly bracing water despite the balmy weather. All was calm and cool in the lovers' sacred haven. Not so within the cabin they had built with their own hands.

Legolas lunged forward with coltish abandon, embedding himself as deeply as he could in satin-soft flesh he would never have guessed at judging from the sleek, hard body that held it. It was only the eve before that he had finally claimed his lover's due, having gained enough confidence from the experience of his own numerous takings to at last turn the tables on his Elf-knight.

Argent eyes had sparkled with affectionate mirth when he took up the reins of ownership, eagerly pushing Elrohir down onto their bed that he might get to know his graces as thoroughly as Elrohir knew his. His earlier novice's coyness had since given way to a primeval Wood-elf's passion and he had striven to prove himself as capable of giving pleasure as receiving it. Still simmering with the sensual memories of Elrohir's tutelage, he did his utmost to apply what he had learned and set to it with youthful exuberance.

By the time he made his way down Elrohir's body, the younger twin was quite dizzy with elation and sheer shortness of breath wrought by his prince's ferocious ardor. After having been denied his prize for so long, Legolas had all but attacked Elrohir's proud shaft, suckling it so hardily, the Elf-knight had to plead for some mercy. What he lacked in finesse he more than made up for with his enthusiasm and blatant enjoyment of that luscious flesh. Elrohir wondered briefly whether he had ever been serviced so zealously before and perforce decided he had not when a climax of such eruptive force ripped through him and left him nigh shorn of his wits for a perilous while.

Legolas straddled his hips and leaned down to lavish lusty kisses on his face, lips and neck until he was caught between hilarity and a litany of groans and gasps.

“Legolas!” he laughingly protested. “Do give me a moment to recover else I will expire from the surfeit of your attentions.”

The archer chortled merrily and desisted for the moment. Gazing down at his spouse as a lion would eye a much desired prey, he said: “I would chasten you for denying me this bliss for so long did I not know 'twas honor that stayed you.” He lazily lay atop Elrohir and laid his tousled head on one shoulder, liking the feel of the other's sinewy frame beneath him. “'Tis no wonder my brother coveted you so. You are too beauteous for your own good, Peredhel. Thank Eru some good sense remained to him afore he went too far.”

“He went further than I could ever stomach,” Elrohir retorted. “Do not remind me of his perfidy. I loathe the memory of what he took from me. Indeed, what he robbed us both of.”

Hearing the catch in Elrohir's voice, Legolas lifted his head and stared at him. The twin's countenance had sobered, the sordid recollection of his near ravaging enough to dampen his cheer. Adding to the horror was that the transgressor had been one for whom he bore no love and, even worse, brother to the one for whom he did.

“Forgive me, seron vell!”-beloved!-Legolas softly exclaimed, his voice tight with remorse. “I did not intend to mar your joy this eve.”

Elrohir turned glistening eyes on him. Cupping Legolas' face in his hands, he drew the archer down for a spate of heated kisses. When their lips parted, he shifted their bodies until Legolas came to rest between his legs.

“Take me,” he whispered. “Fill me with all that you are and have. Help me forget.”

For the first time, Legolas comprehended the damage done to Elrohir's sense of personal inviolability by that craven assault. His eyes gleamed with sympathy and compassion, fully realizing the depth of the Elf-knight's distress. To have so vital a choice taken away from one was a terrible violation of the spirit as well as the body.

“I will fill you, melethen”-my love-he hushedly declared. “I will make you forget.”

Finally understanding Elrohir's counsel when he had readied him for his deflowering, the archer likewise treated his Elf-knight with utmost gentleness. The flaring of rage against his brother for having tasted something of what should have been Legolas' alone swiftly evolved into a determination not to hurt Elrohir in like manner. He would not revive unwelcome memories of Nimaras' crude ministrations or the misleading discomfort he had inflicted on Elrohir, which had caused the Elf-warrior no small amount of anguish and shame.

Elrohir's patience and trust would not be in vain, Legolas vowed to himself as he oh so tenderly prepared his mate for the incursion he would make on his body. This coupling would be of as much import as their wedding night union for neither had yet played the roles they would now fill. For both, it would be a first time. A first they would share and cherish evermore.

The glow of bliss that brightened Elrohir's features told Legolas that he had sufficiently readied his mate and when he moved to sheath himself it was as much with relief as lust for his forbearance had been wearing thin, so acute was his need. Yet try he did to be as gentle as possible when he gained that much yearned for entry though none could blame him for faltering when he finally sank into the heated silk of the Elf-knight's core.

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced and the urge to be gloved entirely in that indescribable softness nearly undid him. Gasping raggedly he instinctively thrust hard enough to elicit a wince from Elrohir. But he swiftly collected himself, repulsed by the thought of causing his spouse even this primal pain. With an effort, he managed to temper the force of his movements and angle them as Elrohir had shown him. He was amply rewarded with a drawn out moan of utmost ecstasy followed by the sound of his name whispered in a taut voice that bespoke a barely contained urge to cry out.

Giddy with excitement at achieving Elrohir's pleasure, he strove to steady himself and deliver more of what pleased his beloved. Bending low, he took frequent draughts of the Elf-knight's lips, smoothed kisses over his throat and shoulders and chest. He reveled in every groan and gasp he wrung from Elrohir, felt a surging joy when he espied the rapture in his mate's eyes. And limning that happiness was that otherworldly ecstasy known only to bound Elves, each and every wave and crash of sensation heightening then sweeping across the channel that linked their spirits even as Legolas' quickening thrusts joined their bodies.

So close to completion was he that he nearly forgot the last of his lessons but the fortuitous prodding of his belly by Elrohir's shaft reminded him and he eagerly curled his fingers around the rigid column and stroked it in time with his thrusts. He rejoiced when Elrohir's eyes widened in surprise, unused to the one experience he had foregone until this moment - the sensation of being filled and caressed at the same time.

Legolas could not suppress the welling triumph that washed over him, elated by more evidence that the Elf-knight had waited all these years to yield himself. Legolas was schooling himself not to be overly possessive of his Peredhel love but he and Elrohir knew that he would never be completely rid of the trait. In any case, Elrohir did not deplore it for he had long ago accepted his prince's jealous nature and indeed come to enjoy many of the manifestations of it.

With a sharp cry, Elrohir spent himself and Legolas nearly crooned with delight as opalescent cream spilled over his fingers and dappled his belly. But ere long, the tightening of Elrohir's flesh around his enclosed length set off his own climax and, hoarsely calling out Elrohir's name, he poured himself into his spouse. Gasping for breath, he all but collapsed atop Elrohir once he had expended all his seed. A heaving chest beneath his cheek and the sound of ragged breathing was testament to the shared explosiveness of their release and that knowledge made his heart leap with nigh excruciating felicity.

Elrohir was his at last and nothing and nobody could ever come between them. Neither foolish interlopers, the vagaries of life nor cruel fate, not even should the Powers themselves try to interfere. For even the timeless halls could not forever part Elves wedded in love and actively bound or sever the connection between them.

They spoke in whispers afterward, Legolas ascertaining that he had not caused Elrohir undue discomfort and receiving his Elf-knight's praise and gratitude in turn for loving him so well. It moved Elrohir enormously that Legolas had intuited his unease so keenly that he had restrained himself despite his lack of experience and long-suppressed desire. His felt his love for the archer wax and deepen until he thought his heart would brim over with it.

“I was right to wait,” he murmured against the prince's golden tresses. “A greater gift I could not receive than your peerless loving, calenlassen”-my greenleaf.

Legolas beamed at the compliment. “You are one to talk when 'tis you who has blessed me with so much,” he softly replied. He turned his head and nipped at the roseate nipple nearest his lips until it stiffened in response. At once he felt the stirrings of another arousal thicken and lengthen his shaft and with a moan he rose to his knees to hover over his spouse. “Are you able to take another tumble? For I am verily famished for you, my Elf-knight.”

Elrohir glanced down at the evidence of the archer's need and chuckled. Eyes shining with his own resurgent passion, he rolled a surprised Legolas over and moved astride his hips.

“Aye, I am most able,” he grinned. “But methinks you might enjoy another manner of coupling and one I would have you employ on me afore our sennight is done.”

With that, he slowly slid down on Legolas' member, taking it to the hilt, its passage eased by the cream of the prince's prior release within him. Legolas could not stop the gasping groans that escaped him at so sensual and complete a sheathing. He gripped Elrohir's knees hard, fighting his body's compulsion to spend too soon. Elrohir did not move but allowed him time to stay his raging need enough for a fairly prolonged ride.

Afterward, they lay entangled once more, Legolas amazed at the heights to which Elrohir had taken them. The Valar help us both, he thought in some dismay, as the mere memory of it aroused him once more. He looked pleadingly at Elrohir.

“Forgive me, Elrohir, but it seems I cannot get enough of you,” he whispered with embarrassment.

Elrohir stared at him, startled, then gently laughed. “Ah, it seems I have truly found my match,” he remarked. “Very well, you bore my desire patiently enough our first night, I would return the favor now, my voracious one.” He smiled when Legolas blushed. “But let us do this slowly for I still ache from your considerable girth.”

He leaned forward and kissed Legolas long and lingeringly. “Who would have thought a Wood-elf could be so impressively endowed?” he said teasingly against his prince's lips, chuckling at the mingled pleasure and indignation in Legolas' expression.

If the archer had thought a whole night's worth of rutting would sate his lust, he was quickly disabused of the notion upon awaking the following morn. The lovely view from their cozy bed of the verdant woods and gurgling brook beyond the cabin was no match for the even comelier sight of Elrohir enticingly bare and invitingly prone. Which was why the day dawned on the pair coupled in passion once more and racing toward completion.

All it took to rouse Elrohir from slumber was a trail of moist kisses down his back from his nape and shoulders to the slight swell of his taut backside and the probing caresses of an insistent tongue further down. After nigh a whole night of playing the sheath, Elrohir needed no further readying than that and Legolas easily slid into him with a blissful sigh. Now he drove repeatedly into him with lusty enthusiasm.

He saw Elrohir move to take his shaft in hand to seek relief from the gathering pressure in his groin. The image that formed in his mind enflamed him all the more and with a low growl he reached around to curl his fingers around Elrohir's fist.

Elrohir gasped when Legolas joined him in stroking his rigid length. Newly awakened, he had little self-control at his disposal and he swiftly peaked and climaxed, groaning and shuddering as his shaft pulsed and his seed spurted onto their entwined fingers and the sheets below.

His senses flooded by Elrohir's ecstasy and his shaft spasmodically caressed by the heated flesh that enveloped it, Legolas followed him into rapture and, with a sobbing cry, spilled himself once again into the Elf-knight's core. They sank onto their sides, Legolas still clasping Elrohir's waist and pressed against his back that he might remain within him a while longer.

Elrohir looked over his shoulder at the prince with a lazy grin. Legolas was obviously paying him back in kind for the nights they had fallen asleep with Elrohir still berthed deep inside him. Reading his thoughts, Legolas smirked in wordless agreement and captured the twin's lips for a hungry kiss that hinted at further play as the day progressed.

“Insatiable,” Elrohir murmured as he was hugged close.

Legolas lightly bit his shoulder. “You disapprove?”

“Most certainly not!” Elrohir chuckled. “'Twould be the height of folly to complain about your ardor. Particularly when I am so fortunate to be the recipient of it.”

Legolas beamed. “Who would have thought when you first championed me that it would come to this?” he happily said. “It will not wane, will it, Elrohir? This passion we share?”

Elrohir looked back at him. “All feelings ebb and surge with the passage of time,” he replied. “'Tis but natural else our bodies would wear down from too much usage!” He smilingly paused when Legolas chortled at the idea. “But our passion will never end, merely temper on occasion to allow us some needed respite.”

“That pleases me,” Legolas purred. “I cannot picture a life without our loving, our love. I am besotted with you, Elrohir. I cannot imagine a night's passage without coupling with you even once.”

Elrohir grinned. “The pleasure is new and intoxicating, melethron”-lover-he tenderly reasoned. “Your libido will calm after a while and you will not always seek our bed.”

“Indeed I will not,” Legolas drawled. “There are so many other places suitable for that purpose.”

Elrohir snorted. He playfully swatted Legolas' thigh. “Come, let us bathe and have some breakfast.” He noted the unmistakable scent of rutting that infused their beddings. “And I think we'd best change the sheets as well.”

Legolas snickered against his shoulder. “But that would be a fruitless exercise. They will only be soiled anew before midday!”

Elrohir shook his head in spurious dismay. “As I said, insatiable.”

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The last eve of their nuptial holiday witnessed them quietly preparing their simple supper. It was a chore they had enjoyed sharing throughout the week for the supposedly mundane exercise of preparing meals together actually contributed to their intimacy as a couple. While Legolas tended a meat and vegetable stew as it simmered over the fire in the hearth, Elrohir patted out unleavened dough, which he would bake in the hot ashes at the edges of the fire. The resulting bread would be flat and crisp and perfect for the rich stew.

Legolas watched him curiously, amazed that the Elf-knight had troubled to learn more than the most basic skills of food preparation. But on hindsight, he realized it was a useful talent for a warrior who might have to live for long periods of time far from the comforts of home and the convenience of cooks and bakers. That Elrohir and most likely Elladan as well had armed themselves with this homely knowledge was testament to their acceptance of and commitment to their duties as defenders of their realm despite their privileged births. The woodland prince resolved to learn from their example and made up his mind to seek the kitchen staff's instructions when they returned to the Last Homely House.

After dining, they opened their last bottle of miruvor. As they downed the heady cordial, Elrohir asked: “Have you given thought to how oft and long you can endure any partings?”

He had broached the subject to Legolas as they broke their fast their first morning in the glen. The archer had not been too keen to think about it but had acknowledged its necessity. As Elrohir had long ago pointed out, they were princes of their respective realms with oaths to land and folk and for so long as they called Middle-earth home, they would be held to those oaths.

Legolas nodded and said: “I know that we cannot shirk our duties but I wonder why we must part at all.”

“My love…”

“Can we not reside together? Can we not move between here and Eryn Galen at intervals?”

Elrohir stared at him. “That would entail taking turns living apart from our families for many years at a time,” he mused. “You would willingly do this?”

“Aye, I would,” Legolas earnestly replied. “I do not wish to be separated from you for any great length of time, Elrohir.” He took a deep breath. “Indeed, I do not think I could bear it.” His eyes glistened suspiciously and to Elrohir they suddenly seemed bluer than usual.

“I am not made of stern stuff where you are concerned,” Legolas whispered. “I cannot envision a life apart from you nor do I care to try it. Laugh at me if you think me a maudlin fool or decry me for a coward and a weakling but this is how I feel. This is what I choose. Part from you I will not do, honor and duty be damned. I beg of you, do not ask it of me, berethen.”-my spouse.

Silence fell between them for so fervent and final a statement could do no less than reduce Elrohir to mute contemplation. But as the quiet wore on, Legolas began to fear that he had said too much and perhaps disillusioned his spouse too soon. His lower lip started to quiver and he bit it to still it. He stared down at his clasped hands where they rested on the table, his gaze lingering on the gold band that graced his right forefinger. He saw that his hands were trembling and clenched them further to stop the shaking. He started when Elrohir's palm covered them before gripping his wrist and pulling him from his chair to sit astride his lap. Elrohir looked up at his fearful prince then drew him close to tenderly kiss him.

Pulling away only far enough to speak, he quietly said: “You are no coward or weakling. And certainly neither foolish nor maudlin. I would not easily suffer partings from you either, Legolas, for my heart you have in your keeping and how could it be at peace when its keeper is far away? Yours is a splendid suggestion and one I did not consider because I thought you would not countenance living in occasional exile from your beloved Greenwood.”

Legolas shook his head. “Even were we homeless nomads forced to take our rest where our wanderings took us, still I would not deem it exile. Because you would be with me, Elrohir. Whither you go I will follow. Where you abide, I will call home.”

Elrohir felt his heart swell with overflowing love and adoration for this gloriously passionate, wonderfully plainspoken Elf he had taken to spouse. “Then we are agreed,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “All that needs considering is the length of our stays in our fathers' realms.”

Legolas' answering smile was radiant and his eyes brilliant with joy. “Would every twelve years be sufficient for our needs?” he ventured.

Elrohir chuckled. “Make it ten and I will concur,” he amended.

“Done!” Legolas shot back. He brushed his lips against Elrohir's. “And now we must seal our pact. Have me as oft as you can muster, rochiren.”-my knight-he huskily demanded. “Love me through this night.”

“We ride home tomorrow,” Elrohir reminded him though his eyes glinted wickedly “Would you suffer as Galvreth undoubtedly did?”

Legolas laughed at the memory, the sound resounding joyously within the cabin. “Oh aye,” he vigorously agreed. “For I desire to wear the same smile he bore the morning after!”

In lieu of a spoken response, Elrohir wrapped the archer's legs around his waist and rose, lifting Legolas in that fashion. He bore his giggling prince to the bed and tumbled him onto it, swiftly following him down and pressing him into the mattress.

When action could say so much more, mere words were superfluous.

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Glossary:

Peredhel - Half-elf/Half-elven

miruvor - the cordial of Rivendell

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

End of Part One
- 24
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- 26
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness