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The Protege V: Harvest	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1555 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters, and I make no money with these tales.

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Beta reader: Mindirith

Chapter three: Lovers Will Come and Go

Just a few days ago, his body had been a trembling mess of quivering, cramping flesh. His training with Glorfindel had played havoc with him; he had felt weak, for the first time in centuries – yet now, now he felt good, just as he did when in the Greenwood, where warfare was a daily event, there he was always fit, on top form, strong, resistant.

He would train this morning, perhaps even spar with Glorfindel, Elladan and Haldir. After, he would seek out his lovers and see if he could procure himself with a little afternoon delight. There was so little time left, and he would not waste a single bit of it.

And so he jogged down to the barracks as he had done for the past few days now, only this time he did not ache, and Yaavan did not sit quite so heavily upon his shoulders.

……………………………………………………………

The band of friends, which now counted the king amongst its numbers, were returning to the house after their morning spar, filthy except for Arwen, who was as fresh and crisp as a spring lettuce, smiling as she listened to the males banter and argue on this or that technique, or who had conquered who.

A breeze caught Legolas’ long locks then, surprising him, for the day had been mild, not a cloud in sight; it was simply not logical, until he turned and saw what had caused it, for it was no weather condition, but the mighty wings of a majestic eagle, landing in the grounds beyond the gardens of Elrond’s house, a brown-clad wizard atop its feathered shoulders - Aiwendil.

Legolas stood stock still, he could not have moved even if he had tried, yet his brain registered every detail of the huge bird standing before them; the colour of his feathers, the strange hue of his slanted eyes, the benevolent, wise expression on his face. He even seemed to smile at him, yet that could not be so – or could it? And then the sounds registered, for the bird spoke to him, not through its beak though, but through the canticle of nature.

‘Hail, Lord of the Forests.’

The voice was deep and mellow, soothing yet commanding, a voice that struck a deep sense of empathy in his heart.

‘Hail, Gwaihir, Windlord. I am honored to make your acquaintance, said Legolas duteously, yet somewhat lamely, for he was astonished at the sheer size of the animal, and of course there was the fact that he was speaking to it. His mouth had complied with strict protocol, but his mind was lagging far behind, listening to himself hail the winged lord.

“Come close,” shouted the brown wizard as he gestured with his arm, laughing heartily as he watched his young, future apprentice meet his friend for the first time. With his head tilted to one side, and an expression of bedazzlement upon his fair face, he looked for all of him like a baffled child.

‘The honour is mine, young Lord. I have come to pledge my fealty to you. Should you ever require help on that which is your path, you must call to me, and I will aid you, if I can.’

Now, Legolas knew the stories of old, and he remembered that the great eagles answered only to a privileged few, lords and leaders of their people, in the service of light and goodness.

‘I am most honored, and shall remember your words,’ he said, as he reached a tentative hand out to touch the magnificent beast before him, looking up in a silent request for permission before he did so. He thought again, that the bird had smiled – he was sure of it.

‘You are right, young Lord. I do smile, when the fancy takes me. You are surprised?’

‘I admit it – it fascinates me, although why I do not know,’ scowled the king, for it was true, he was somewhat ashamed that he had shown himself so ignorant, for he himself spoke to trees and other small animals – why not to an eagle? What did size matter when dealing with inter-species communication? But then it hit him, how had Gwaihir known what Legolas was thinking?

The bird chuckled as it turned its massive head back towards Aiwendil, who sat behind him, and then back again.

‘No, I cannot read your mind, young King, but I heard your question, for you involuntarily projected it into the canticle. You speak and understand me, yet you cannot yet fully control what you don’t want to say - I am sure Aiwendil will help you with that.’

“Well then, Legolas,” said the brown wizard, “I will find you in the Greenwood once you return, for I have much to teach you! Farewell!” he exclaimed joyfully. Gwaihir let out a mighty scream as he swiveled round and took graceful flight once more, their destination, unknown.

Legolas turned back to the house in a daze, meeting his gaping friends head on. They had not moved, not said a single word, not even a gasp of surprise or awe, nothing.

Legolas looked to Mithrandir who had materialized beside him, and burst into contagious laughter, for he thought then that he must surely be sporting the same expression as they wore. Mithrandir guffawed along with the childish sounding giggles, for now, it was his friends’ turn to feel like mewling children, and Legolas would have his revenge.

……………………………………………………

Needless to say, lunch was lively that day, for the morning had brought much excitement. The friends talked together about their training and the remarkable visit of Gwaihir, which most of Imladris had missed, save for a privileged few. Legolas, however, had seen his opportunity for revenge for their good-natured teasing after his grueling training sessions with Glorfindel.

“I must say, Haldir, that your teeth are perfectly white. Do you use Hardwood ash?” Galdithion snorted while Haldir cleared his throat. “And I must say you handled that errant fly quite well, Lord Elrohir – happened to me once and I nearly choked, truth be told, yet you! You were magnificent; having the presence of mind to leave your mouth open so that the creature could escape was nothing short of commendable, my Lord.”

The lords at the head of the table were listening to it all, smiling as they imagined what must have happened during the eagle’s visit. All of them had met the Windlord at least once, except for Erestor, and they still remembered their first time - the awe he had inspired in their young hearts.

However, Elladan was now chuckling merrily, for he was thoroughly tickled by the king’s witty comments, avidly awaiting the next pun as he skewered a green bean and stuffed it into his upturned mouth.

“Now, the jewel, my Lords, the gem to crown today’s extraordinary events, was when the Lord Elladan emitted the finest imitation of a Spotted Eagle-owl that I, as a wood elf, have ever heard, or seen.”

He continued to explain as the table erupted into peels of silvery laughter.

“You see, the hoot, its timbre and tone, the richness and colour of it, were perfect,” he continued as he used his arms and hands to illustrate and colour his words, his voice that of a school master imparting forest lore. The laughter was becoming louder, there were even some screams and hoots.

“And then, when his head swiveled to the side to look at his lord brother, it glided as if on oiled hinges, his eyes rounded as those of the Spotted Eagle-owl are.”

Loud exclamations hailed the final onslaught of unbridled, hysterical laughter – Elrohir especially, had lost his lordly demeanor entirely, and was bent over the table, his body jerking up and down as heave after heave of hilarity assaulted him. Indeed Elrond was laughing so hard that tears sprang to his eyes, only just quashing the urge to slap his thighs as Celeborn was wont to do.

It took them all a long while to finally calm themselves, yet it was enough for one elf to simply hoot, and the table would bet set off once more.

……………………………………………………………………

He had taken a short rest in his rooms - not that he was tired, yet his overactive mind needed to organize itself into some semblance of order, for in less than an hour, he would attend the closed-door meeting with the other lords in residence, in order to discuss and decide on the apprenticeships and exchanges, and to agree to their travel plans.

It had been publically dictated that any elf would be free to present their candidature for either of the programs. They were to make a formal, written request, stating to which realm they wished to travel, and in what capacity they wished to serve, along with any other information the candidate deemed relevant. The only requisite had been to have a true wish to learn, and then impart what had been learned in their homeland once their tutorship or exchange had concluded. They were also required to stay for at least one year, extendable to two if they so wished.

He had been surprised at some of the candidatures, both from the Greenwood and the other realms; Llyn had requested to stay in Imladris and tutor under the great Erestor, famed as the best negotiator in Elvendom. Her father, Aradan, had half-heartedly tried to dissuade her, for he did not wish to travel back to the forest kingdom without her, yet he knew the experience would be both positive and rewarding, to her personally, and later in her service to her homeland, in Greenwood. What that experience would bring on a personal level he knew not, but knowing his daughter, she would live life to the utmost, and be enriched, and for that he was so very proud.

And then there was Henian, his captain on this journey, and one of his closest friends. He had suspected that he might want to stay, for he greatly respected Glorfindel, and as one of the best captains in the Greenwood militia, he was the perfect candidate as a future leader of the joint Elven forces the three realms wished to create. He would miss his quiet, tempered character - a stark contrast to his strong presence on the battlefield. The loss of his wise council, his loyalty, wit and companionship would be impossible to replace.

In return however, Greenwood could potentially make two curious and surprising military acquisitions; Lieutenant Elladan Elrondion, and Lieutenant Melven …. Ion (find male elven name), who had both requested to serve with Legolas. Elladan, he knew, had rediscovered his vocation as a warrior, and Melven, he suspected, was searching for change, a life of service that he could be proud of.

There were other considerations too, yet he no longer had the time to ponder on them, as he pulled on a formal, calf-length blue robe, and tied off a green sash at his side, into which he inserted Legaelair’s Gondolidrim dagger. Combing out his hair and arranging it with Glorfindel’s gift, he opened the door and wandered through the corridors until he reached the library.

The door was open and so he stepped inside, immediately walking over to the balcony where Celeborn stood with Galadriel, Mithrandir and Elrond.

The balcony doors were open, and although sunlight still flooded the hallowed room, candles were dancing merrily along the tapestry-lined walls and tables, lending the room a warm, relaxing atmosphere that would be most propitious to discussion and agreement.

Aerion arrived then, moving straight to Elrond and dipping his head in greeting.

“My Lords,” he acknowledged, sweeping the room in a quick reconnaissance of the still missing lords, namely Glorfindel and Gildor. Arching an eyebrow, he reached for a glass of wine, not before briefly catching Erestor’s fleeting glance. It seemed he was not the only one to speculate on the reasons.

Moments later, both elves appeared in the doorway with a merry smile on their faces, especially Gildor who was – ecstatic, thought Erestor, for some reason he did not wish to consider at this precise moment.

“Good evening, my Lady, Lords,” exclaimed Gildor as he walked towards them, his reclaimed lover at his side.

They bowed to the king as they walked over to Elrond and his group, snagging their own glasses along the way.

Erestor knew they had been at it. He wondered then what Gildor possessed that Glorfindel was attracted to. He was attractive enough to the eye, yet he was not stunning, and then he had that irksome air of arrogance about him ….

“Well then, shall we?” intoned Elrond as he gestured to the long oak table. Taking their places, they remained standing, until Legolas realized they were waiting for him to sit. He would have to get accustomed to the protocol of kingship; a task he knew his father would gladly help him with.

……………………………………………

As time passed, the atmosphere had relaxed and the afternoon was proving to be both enjoyable and worthwhile, if not somewhat surprising.

Amongst the many agreements, it was decided that Henian would indeed stay and serve with Glorfindel and Cormion. They would learn from each other, implement new ideas, techniques and tactics. This was a necessary step, as not too far into the future, a multi-cultural army would be formed, and their captains would need to be familiar with the style, discipline and organization of all three realms.

They had all been surprised when Elladan had requested to go to the Greenwood, which his father had seen with favorable eyes, but their surprise had been paramount when Melven had made known his desire to tutor in the Greenwood. Both candidatures had been readily accepted by Legolas, although he had made his reservations known to their Lord; he had then resolved to talk to them later and ascertain to what extent those reservations were unfounded.

Cultural exchanges would be made by Mentathiel and Amanthor who would stay in Imladris together with Lindir. It was also decided that Eruanna, Gaerwyn’s daughter, would travel to Greenwood to learn of their cuisine, and likewise impart her knowledge of Noldorin cooking, which was more than fine with Legolas, for there would be mushroom delights galore.

Politically, it was Llyn who had requested to stay in Imladris, to learn under the tutorship of Erestor, the master negotiator. She also wished to spend more time with Elrohir, with whom she had recently come into more contact, thanks to her nascent friendship with his sister, Arwen.

Maeron had also specifically asked leave to stay in Imladris, for its renowned healing wing offered much to be learned. That had also been agreed, with the condition that Nestaron Balentar go to the Greenwood, for they had knowledge of poisons that were not documented in Imladris, and the Imladrian healer was a renowned expert in toxins.

The other major issue under discussion was the journey back, and whether all realms should travel together, or whether their departure should be staggered. If there were an attack, they did not want all the lords to be together.

They had finally decided that the Greenwood would depart first, two days hence at daybreak. Later that same day, Gildor would leave with his band of exiles, while Lorien would leave the next morning, accompanied by Arwen, who was to continue tutoring with her grandmother.

Finally, Aerion and his citizens would ride back to their coastal home, where the advisor would inform his lord of the extraordinary events that had taken place during his stay.

And there was no more to speak of, for it had all been discussed, agreed for the most part. Only two more days, and Legolas would find himself on the road again, back to his father, his loving people, and his ailing woods.

As he walked back to his suite, Legolas pondered on the surprising turn of events. He would be travelling with Elladan and Melven, amongst others of Elrond’s court. They would be riding with him on his patrols, learning how the Sylvans organized their defenses. He knew the learning curve would be steep, for he doubted they had the slightest inkling as to what they were getting themselves into, both physically and mentally.

Finally arriving at his rooms, he walked straight into the bathing room. Once he had refreshed himself, he donned a light house skirt and padded out to the inviting chaise long before the wide-open balcony, flinging one arm behind him, the other resting on his defined abdomen. The sounds of birdsong and the hum of insects in the gardens below were lulling him into a state of semi-vigil, he felt languid – and lustful.

A knock at his door spoilt the peaceful moment, yet it brought with it the prospect of some afternoon loving, and so he strolled to the door and opened it, only to see Gildor in the company of Glorfindel. Not that it bothered him, he knew Gildor was attracted to him, he was almost positive Glorfindel had brought him here with that very purpose. Indeed Gildor wore a somewhat ill-conceived expression of surprise, as his eyes travelled from Legolas’ face, down to the waistband of his skirt.

Smiling at them knowingly, he turned and glided back into the room, heading for the side-board where he kept the wine.

“Good afternoon, my Lords,” he droned lazily. “I have cold white wine that is waiting to be tasted.”

Finally collecting himself from the initial onslaught of sensations, Gildor schooled his face, straightened his back, and strutted into the room, a smirkinig Glorfindel just behind.

“Ah, good, for we were – parched,” said Gildor somewhat purposefully and seemingly unnecessarily. Legolas knew they had been sharing themselves, it had been clear to all after their tardy arrival at the meeting - yet Gildor seemed to be gloating.

Under these circumstances, Legolas had always sustained that the best way to gain the upper hand was to attack harder than your opponent – not that Legolas thought he had an opponent, but Gildor certainly believed he did.

“Ah, you have both been rutting, I see,” he began.” Tell me, Gildor. Did you ride, or were you ridden?” he asked, as if requesting the time of day.

Gildor was rather taken aback, for he had been enjoying the baiting, yet the Forest Lord seemed to be completely unconcerned that he had just fucked his lover.

Never one to be dominated, Gildor rose to the unspoken challenge. Glorfindel saw the change in demeanor immediately, deciding to wait for the time being, and see what would transpire - for Gildor was making the same mistake – again.

“Oh, I rode him, and then he rode me – we have quite exhausted ourselves, young Lord,” he said as he sipped his wine, watching the lord’s reaction from over the brim of his ornate goblet.

Yet Legolas remained impassive, unreadable to the eyes of the gloating exile.

“You must be sore then, Gildor. Yet that will not free you from the inevitable. For if you stay to finish your wine, or indeed drink another cup, you will submit to my wishes, and should you leave, you will not have another opportunity to share with me. With Glorfindel, you may do as you please, of course. He is his own self.”

And with that, he turned, and poured himself a glass, waiting for Gildor’s reaction, or flight. Yet he just sat there, staring into his glass, pondering his next move.

“Gildor,” said Legolas. “You wish to mark what you believe to be your territory, yet you are wrong, my friend. Glorfindel is not yours to mark, and neither is he mine – but his own. Enjoy him – and me, if you so wish, but cease this arrogance, this aberration of love and desire – leave jealousy in the cesspit, where it belongs,” he finished, as he stepped out onto the balcony, leaving Gildor in the bedroom with a silent Glorfindel.

The warrior bristled then, for his pride had been touched upon, yet something niggled at him from the back of his mind; it was his honour, for deep down he knew that Legolas was right – he was jealous. He had done this before, many times, and the last incident had been during the meeting to discuss the lord’s proclamation as king. He had opposed the idea, supposedly because he could not believe it until he could see it with his own eyes, yet that was not right. He had rejected the idea because he had been irked by the talk of beauty and skill – he had been jealous, again. And then Glorfindel had told him as much, that it had also been jealousy that had ended their relationship. The fault was in him, not in Legolas – yet he was angry, irritated – at the wrong person.

And so he simply heaved a mighty sight as his adrenalin slowly began to return to its normal levels as he began to reason things out. ‘What is wrong with me? I bragged to the king about taking his lover, I give Legolas the impression I have no interest in him whatsoever – he may even be thinking I want to fuck him so I may dominate him and become the predominant partner in Glorfindel’s life, yet for the love of Elbereth I do desire this elf.’ And it was true, for every time he but glimpsed at him his cock would stand to attention.

Glorfindel, meanwhile, simply leant against the chair, listening and watching, and then finally smiling kindly at Gildor, for Legolas had seen him for what he was – a jealous, arrogant, yet passionate and honorable elf. He was glad of the exchange that had taken place, for Gildor needed to hear it from another, not only from he whom he coveted, and it seemed to be working – he knew Gildor would be fretting now, torn between lust for the king and worry he would not be accepted. Of course he did not know Legolas as Glorfindel did; for had Legolas taken offence, Gildor would not still be here – his lover was implacable when it came to speaking the truth and being consequential with it.

Glorfindel decided that the best way to pull Gildor back from his brooding, was to show him he was still welcome, and so he stood and walked towards the balcony, sitting beside the once more reclining king. Bending down, he kissed his lover softly then, watching his eyes as they softened, and then shone for him.

“Gildor, come. Sit with us a while,” called Glorfindel, patting the space on the other side of the sprawling king.

Walking somewhat awkwardly, he sat next down, feeling somewhat nervous at his nearness with this elf. He was now unsure as to how he would be accepted, indeed if he would be accepted at all. His body was screaming at him to touch this enticing creature, to take him and stop thinking.

“The view from here is spectacular, don’t you think,” said the general, as he placed his palm over the silk-clad shin of the king, gliding it up to his thigh, where he began to knead the strong, generous muscle below.

Gildor watched Glorfindel’s hand caress the covered body, revealing hardly anything of the flesh he so wanted to touch.

“The view is wondrous, truly beautiful,” he whispered, placing a tentative hand on the other leg as he glanced up at Legolas to check his reaction. The lord simply watched him coolly.

“This skirt is exquisite, Legolas, is it silk?” asked Glorfindel.

“Yes, a gift from a friend.”

“I like you like this, concealed yet not so,” he murmured as his hand travelled beneath the cloth to his genitals, ghosting his fingers over the growing flesh.

Gildor watched lasciviously as Glorfindel fondled the lord then, aching to touch him there, too, but not daring to.

“Gildor has expressed his – desire for your body, Legolas. Will you take pleasure with him, and me?”

Legolas looked to Gildor then, and saw the lust, the want, the blatant desire straining his breeches.

“I will,” he whispered, as Glorfindel moved in to kiss him hard and passionately, as Gildor finally registered the king’s words - he had been given leave, in spite of his own clumsiness and against all odds.

The first thing he did was part the cloth of the skirt to reveal the flesh beneath, now hard and eager, beautifully proportioned, he thought, as he touched the cock, the balls, traced the lines and crevices, delighting at the first whispered gasp that escaped the alluring lips and straight into Glorfindel’s mouth.

Glorfindel watched Gildor fondle his lover and he was suddenly, inexplicably enflamed. The scene was sending him reeling. He had watched many times as Legolas had shared sex with Elrond and Erestor, but they were not strangers. This, however; Gildor was an almost complete newcomer to Legolas’ life, and the thought of watching them together excited him as nothing so far had managed to do, save perhaps that first night of ‘Carnal Delight’.

Legolas was in bliss. For his lover kissed him and touched him, as this – stranger – fondled him. It felt, almost, as if Glorfindel were yielding him, offering him – he should have been irritated, yet he was rock hard, he enjoyed the idea – for his streak of exhibitionism had come to the fore. However, he would not yield completely to Gildor – not yet.

He gasped softly again, as Glorfindel kissed him once more, and Gildor took his cock firmly into his fist, pulling up slowly as he observed the king’s face, only to push down and place his mouth over the head, taking Legolas’ entire length down his throat, until his lips met with the taught balls below.

The shout that escaped Legolas’ mouth was loud, and went straight to Glorfindel’s cock as he caressed the king’s now open thighs as Gildor worked his magic, taking him deep into his throat and sending his new lover into a frenzy of gasps and moans that the general would mute with his mouth and tongue.

“Let him pleasure you, see how he takes you completely? When you come, you will spurt down his throat, and he will swallow every drop you have.”

“Ahhh Glorfindel, please, I need…”

“Watch, Gildor, tell me you have never seen anyone come as beautifully as he does,” he murmured, watching as Legolas’ muscles began to coil as his breath quickened.

“That’s right. Come for him, give him your seed.”

And he did, moaning and thrusting rhythmically as he came inside Gildor’s mouth.

Gildor moved back up to the other side of the panting Forest Lord, both elves looking down at him as he regained his senses.

“’Tis true, Glorfindel, he comes so exquisitely. Let’s see if we can bring him to completion again.”

“Oh, we will, Gildor. Wood elves have much stamina, believe me!”

Legolas listened to them both, and thought then that it was time to exercise his authority, for Gildor was a stranger, and he would not be taken by this one yet.

And so he moved his face directly in front of him, and in a low, seductive voice, uttered the last words Gildor had expected to hear.

“Gildor, get yourself on all fours, for your king wishes to fuck you – you will yield, I presume?”

A rhetorical question if ever Glorfindel had heard one, and he was unsure of how Gildor would take to this new development, yet he would not interfere. It had taken his lover’s fancy to take Gildor, and he would not gainsay him.

“I … uh, it has been a while…”

“Then who better than to reintroduce you to that forgotten delight, than your King?”

He was at a loss, for the king pulled rank. He knew he could refuse, yet did he really want to? He had lost the habit of allowing his lovers to take him because he knew them, and therefore felt the need to dominate them, at least to an extent. Yet Legolas he knew not, and would not be meeting him on any kind of regular basis – could he afford himself this luxury, perhaps?

“Yes, my Lord,” said Gildor, surprising both himself and Glorfindel with his submissiveness, for Gildor had ever been dominant. He was fascinated, watching as Gildor complied with Legolas’ wishes, bending to his desire as he was thoroughly and vigorously mastered by the Forest Lord.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Dusk had fallen, the warm blue sky had become dark enough for the first stars to twinkle visibly, the moon still below the horizon.

After they had recovered from their afternoon of frenzied coupling, they had talked quietly. Gildor had sincerely apologized for his behavior, saying in his defense only that Glorfindel was his weakness. He was also left rather sore, yet wonderfully sated, for he had enjoyed the ride, allowing himself to be taken for the first time in many years. He knew that he would allow it again, for he had forgotten how much pleasure was to be had from it, especially with one as skillful as Legolas.

He had left then, leaving Glorfindel and Legolas alone for the first time all day.

“You, my love, have a vicious streak in you – one that has me enflamed still,” he murmured, as he brushed his lips over the curved mouth.

“You wish to be mastered, General? I would gladly comply, for as you so rightly say, wood elves have much stamina,” and with that, Legolas rolled Glorfindel onto his back, and descended upon him, his face that of a dangerous predator, his prey – the Gondolidrim warrior.
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The Protege V: Harvest