Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Arcane Land	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2529 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine, and neither are its characters. I make no money with my writing. This story was written for the simple pleasure of it.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
CHAPTER THREE: Prodigal Sons

He was lost in a sea of sensations as his body was pleasured over and over again. He lay sprawled over a cool, slick rock on the shores of Love Lake, his legs wide open as the beautiful male with full lips sucked his cock so very tenderly, lips shining with saliva as he relished the flesh sliding inside his mouth. Elladan felt the feather-light touches of soft hands as they traced the muscles of his body, a kiss here or there, the brush of skin as a body moved in to lick his neck, his nipple – he was truly in paradise, he thought, as he felt his third orgasm crash over him, his cry dampened by a mouth that covered his, a slick tongue thrusting itself in and out as he bucked his hips and emptied himself once more.

……………………………………………………………

He was exhausted, but he wanted more. He had not allowed himself to be taken, for that he had not done in a long while. But he had fucked so many elves he had lost count. He was now leaning back against a trunk, a young warrior embracing him from behind as a well-endowed female licked and sucked him.

The warrior rubbed his hard sex against Melven’s backside, sliding it up and down, waiting for the Noldo to give him leave.

The female engulfed him then, as she thrust one finger up his behind, eliciting a surprised gasp from the dark warrior. His would-be lover joined his finger with hers, and Melven was lost, as he finally yielded, sighing as he leant his head back upon the youngster’s shoulder, giving in to the sensations that were drowning him so very beautifully, and that would irrevocably change him.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

The night had been long, and the companions were to be found scattered around Love Lake, or inside the glade, around their camp fire. Galdithion had met up with Elladan, who he had found adjusting his clothing as he slowly navigated his way back to the Great Sequoia.

“Well, how do you fare this morning, my friend?”

“Oh wonderful, Gal. However, how I shall hold my saddle I have no idea!” he chuckled as Galdithion clapped him on the shoulder jovially, yet Elladan had seen a flicker of uncertainty, before it had been deftly erased under the façade of carefree banter.

“And you, Gal?” asked Elladan as nonchalantly as he could, not quite managing to look at his friend.

“I will hold my saddle,” he answered as he smiled kindly. The truth was that the guard had not dared make his move. It had been the perfect opening, yet he had hesitated, and now he sorely regretted it, for he had noticed the tone in which Elladan had made his enquiry, it had been inquisitive, probing, wistful even. He realized that Elladan was unsure of how Galdithion felt about him. He would need to remedy this soonest, lest he lose his chance at wooing the son of Elrond – for he would be mercilessly coveted in the Greenwood and then, perhaps, he would lose him forever. He suddenly realized that the notion hurt him, for a stab of regret had pierced his heart – yet he would not let it show, not now.

“Come, let us find our wayward king and retrieve him from his admirers,” he leered as Elladan’s eyes shot up to his hairline.

“Well, perhaps we should wait, I mean, what if he hasn’t finished or something, I would not want to intrude! We could search for Melven first, and then…”

“Wherefore this prudishness, Elladan? You are no heterosexual, and the thought of finding Legolas naked should not be one to avoid.”

“Under normal circumstances no, but Gal, he, he is – he is my father’s lover – I cannot covet him in that way!” said Elladan, a frown marring his lovely face.

Galdithion laughed uproariously as he clapped his hands.

“Oh, my word, but you surprise me! Let me tell you that Legolas would not take you either, for that very same reason, but that would not stop him from admiring your body, my friend. And should he ever cease to lie with your father, he would have no scruples about a tumble with you.”

“Oh…,” was all Elladan could enunciate, wondering at the implications of Galdithion’s words.

A few moments later, they came across a shady corner of the lake, where six elves slept naked, their bodies entwined in a mass of arms, muscled thighs, breasts and taut backsides. Legolas stirred in their midst then as their shadow fell over him, looking up and shading his eyes with his arms.

“Uugh, is it time?” he asked as he began to extricate himself from the mass of flesh.

“Yes, my Lord. If you will?”

“Of course, Lieutenant. Give me a moment,” he said as he sat up now, smiling at his lovers as they, one by one, kissed him and left. However, instead of dressing, he jogged to the shore and dived into the water, and was lost for a good while. He surfaced further out, shaking his head and swimming back to them, emerging from the lake as a golden god, for he was indeed glory to behold, thought Elladan, watching in fascination as the water ran down his rippling muscles, dripping from his nipples, his fingertips, his perfectly formed sex.

Legolas simply watched him as he passed him by, reaching for a skirt from Galdithion’s outstretched hand. ‘So much like Elrond,’ he thought, as he wrapped the leather around him, leaving himself otherwise naked and dripping as he marched towards the glade and the sweet smells of breakfast, wondering where on Arda Melven had gotten himself to.

As they entered the woods, they found their hearth full of jolly, chuckling elves. Pengon cracked eggs into a pot as Koron en’ roasted bread over the fire. Ram en’ prepared the tea as Lindo distributed the plates. They had sliced the left-over boar from yesterday’s feast which was now being shared out, along with the eggs and the hot, crispy toast. Lindo held the first plate out to his lord, who accepted it with both hands, waiting until all had been provisioned before beginning his morning ritual.

The crunching of leaves and the snapping of twigs alerted them that the remaining member of their group was approaching, yet this was not the Melven they remembered from the night before – nay. He was changed, for he was beautiful, thought Lindo, as he strolled over to the fire, wearing only his breeches, carrying the rest of his gear which he set down before sitting at the fire. His chest was muscled but not overly so, his hair in disarray, a new light in his lovely grey eyes.

“Lindo, I will snatch the egg from your mouth if you do not close it,” muttered Koron en’, smirking at his comrade who had been struck dumb by Melven.

Legolas smiled as he watched the interaction, lifting an eyebrow at Elladan, who lifted both.

………………………………………………………………………..

Sometime later, the elves that would move on to the fortress had gathered at the accorded time, waiting for their leader to take them in to the Greenwood proper.

Legolas had said farewell to his men, agreeing to meet with them in a few days time for briefing and timetabling, and that for the moment, they were officially on leave. This time, the cheer that went up did not startle the Noldorin warriors, who glanced at one another in satisfied surprise, before smiling merrily at their own antics. However, Lindo’s eyes strayed for a moment longer over the lovely form of Melven, who was woefully unaware of his scrutiny, unaware of the attractive, alluring male he had become.

Their horses were a charming sight, for their coats shone, their tac was clean, the buckles and clasps glinting in the morning sun, crins entwined with sweet-smelling flowers, perfect for a joyful homecoming.

Legolas smiled as he saddled up, not before noticing Melven as he took his seat, a wince of discomfort fleeting over his undoubtedly handsome mien. It was amazing – what a night of unbridled sex could do for an elf, he thought then, as he turned his attention back to this task, wiping the rebellious smirk from his face, and silently wishing Lindo luck in the hunt.

Lifting his arm in a sign to move forward, the score of horses proudly moved forward at a comfortable walk; soon, they would stand in luxury in the stables of the Greenwood, where they would be fed with oats as their carers sang to them.

Elladan watched Legolas as he took in the sights, sounds and smells of his homeland. He looked beautiful, as he always did, but there was a hint of melancholy below the surface that the Noldo had captured easily. He was sad, yet resigned, and he knew why. He knew that Glorfindel would be missing his new-found love, and his father – and well, who could blame them? For this elf’s body was irresistible to any and all, including his sister, who was in utter thrall of him.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The way was slowly becoming more populated. Many elves now stood to one side of the path, bowing and waving. One little boy escaped his mother’s restraining arms and ran to his prince’s horse, as he held up a little pot plant that had no flowers, its leaves a sickly yellow.

Legolas signaled to stop as he bent low over his horse’s neck, touching the plant lovingly.

“You must not overwater it, young one. Touch the earth every morning, and if a small bit sticks to your fingers, don’t water it – can you do that?” he asked.

“Yes, pince, thank you!” he lisped, watching in childish awe as the leaves recuperated their vibrant green colour and small buds began to peak from their folds – behind his little plant was the startling face of his prince, his eyes a sparkling, vibrant green, a saucy smile upon his lips. The boy swiveled, almost toppling over in his enthusiasm as he held the plant up for his mother to see, before running to her and jumping with joy. As the party moved out, the woman and her companions held out their arms as if to touch him, a sign of ultimate respect, to which he nodded humbly, sparing one last amused glance at the euphoric imp.

………………………………………………………………………………

A short while later, and Elladan was peering off into the distance, for a stone construction loomed on the horizon. It had to be very tall, he deduced, for they were still a good hour’s walk away. Melven for his part, was once more struck by the sophistication of these constructions.

“My Lord, is that the entrance to the fortress?” he asked.

“Aye, impressive is it not?” said Legolas.

“Indeed, my Lord,” he said with childish wonder, for the closer they got, the more detail he was able to discern.

It was a fortified wall; the arch he supposed, was the main gateway. The doors, set into the solid stone, were made of oak with iron reinforcements running the entire width of each leaf, it was an imposing structure, yet dark, and daunting – not at all what the Noldo had expected for the dwelling of the wood elves, if he had to make a guess, he would be inclined towards dwarven craftsmanship, although since when the wood elves had been on such good terms, Melven could not say. He realized then, that the wall had a walkway at its pinnacle, for tiny spots could be made out, moving from one side to the other; however, a screen of trees barred any further detail of what lay to the side.

“Legolas, this is – huge – I have never seen the likes, I tell you,” said Elladan, genuinely awed at what he was seeing.

“This is what it takes to keep the enemy away from us – and our people safe. Would that I could rip it down and reveal the splendor within, alas, I cannot.”

Melven had guessed as much, for the walls seemed out of character, yet a necessary addition to their realm, no doubt. It only made him more impatient to see what lay within, as he fidgeted surreptitiously in his saddle.

They were closer now, as the wall and towering doors loomed over them with a power that humbled them all.

“See there, Elladan,” began Galdithion, “see the figures carved into the merlons on the crenellations?”

“You must excuse my ignorance, my friend, but what is a crenellation?”

Melven gave thanks he was not the only one that hadn’t understood as he listened to the guard’s explanations.

“The crenellation is the area at the top of the wall. The space our warriors have to stand guard, fire from, and so forth. The merlons are the equidistant stones along the crenellations, you see?” he said enthusiastically as he pointed to them.

“Now look carefully, for the merlons are not simple stones, but carvings, statues.”

“Statues?” blurted Melven. “Statues of what?”

It was Legolas who continued the explanation.

“Statues of those gone before us, those that gave their lives for their land, my comrades, my warriors.” His voice tapered off as a lump formed in his throat as it always did when he returned home.

Galdithion, who knew him better than most, fell back slightly, pleased to see that both Elladan and Melven followed his lead.

“Remember that I am his guard, but I pertain to the Home Guard, I am not on the patrols – you will have noticed I do not have a warrior name. I knew most of them, but I did not serve with them. I did not share injury, grief and tragedy with them, yet Legolas – so many have fought to join his company and died for it. In the Greenwood there is no greater honour. You will see this during your stay here. Our Lord often has to deny entry to a warrior he deems too green to join them, and is often begrudged for it. Yet he still loses many warriors during the course of one cycle. He remembers every single one of them, every name carved upon the stone bows and swords of the merlons that are not merlons.”

“You lead a hard life, my friend,” said Elladan flatly then, taking in the stone archers upon the walls, their bows drawn taut, their cold, chiseled faces fierce and loyal.

………………………………………………………………………………………

A low whining, followed by a series of clanks and a rattling of chains, told the group that the doors were being opened. Indeed a crack of white light appeared through the middle, as each leaf moved slowly inwards. The ray of light thickened, bathing Legolas, Galdithion, Melven and Elladan and finally the remaining elves in glorious afternoon sunshine, their pupils closing almost shut as they adjusted to the brilliance of it.

The mechanism groaned, whirled and clanked, finally grinding to a halt with a shuddering bang, the only sounds to disturb the utter silence that had fallen around them.

Melven and Elladan shielded their eyes, yet the Sylvans looked ahead in awe, smiling joyously as they took in the sight before them. The entire Greenwood was there, lining both sides of the pathway that led to the doors of the stronghold.

Lords and ladies, children and warriors, scribes and bards, teachers and healers, the entire population of the inner sanctum stood there in silence, their most prized clothes and jewelry lighting up the grounds before a construction that seemed worthy of some fable of the first age. For there, as Elladan’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, was a fortress that had been cut from the very mountain itself. Its façade was carved into massive, spiraling roots that jutted high into the air. A multitude of wooden balconies had been built into the numerous floors of living quarters, softening the overall effect of the otherwise imposing construction.

Elladan was completely flabbergasted, for once inside this ‘fortress’, the upper layers must surely afford the most magnificent views over the forest, and the lake. Yet upon further inspection, he realized that the carved roots only existed to the front, and that the sides sported only windows and balconies - what surprises the back held he could not say. It was truly a bastion, the wood elves’ stand against darkness, an open invitation to defy them, a clear statement that they would not be moved.

“Elbereth, Lady of Light,” whispered Elladan, as Galdithion placed a soothing hand on his thigh, eliciting a startled intake of breath from lord, who had been immersed in his visual inspection.

Galdithion withdrew it, nudging his horse a little further forward, just behind his lord, the place that corresponded to him while on duty, worried that he had been too explicit, yet not daring to look back lest he be disappointed with what he would see on Elladan’s face.

The horses walked slowly down the path, with Legolas at the fore. Galdithion watched as the Greenwood subjects, his friends and family, inspected him, puzzled yet overjoyed at what they saw, for he was changed – his hair was most strange, they thought, his eyes startling and mysterious – he was beauty to behold and it brought a tear to their eyes, for here, was the prodigal son of the Greenwood, and Galdithion heaved a sigh of pride and love.

Legolas wore his simple leather skirt and his leather jerkin, the attire the Noldor now recognized as that of The Company. His arms were covered in vambraces and bands and his bow jutted out from over his shoulder, crossing the mighty Yaavan which curved proudly upwards to the heavens, sparkling and glinting defiantly. He had pulled back his twisted locks to sit high on his crown, Glorfindel’s clasp securing it firmly, embracing it lovingly. The rest of his silky hair was left loose to brush against his hips, a luxury he could now afford.

They bowed and curtsied as he passed, to which Legolas smiled and nodded to them all, moved at the homecoming they were receiving. Yet his eyes strayed to the end of the path, where a group of elves stood proudly, especially one tall, blonde Sindarin, whose eyes bored into his own with an intensity few could withstand.

“Elbereth, Lady of Light,” said Elladan once more, wrenching a smile from Galdithion.

They finally came to a halt and dismounted before the many steps that led up to the impressive doors leading into the mountain fortress. Upon the highest step, stood the foremost elves of the Greenwood, yet the one in the centre shone with an intensity Melven had only ever seen in Legolas himself.

He was at least as tall as the Forest Lord, and had about him an aura of strength and command that left none indifferent. His hair was the very same shade, kept from his face by an impressive crown of gold, roots and flowers. His face was more rugged, however, lined with the sorrows and cares of time and experience, his eyes a brilliant sky blue. He was strong and beautiful, commanding yet magnanimous. His body was clad in a long blue velvet skirt that trailed the ground to the back, yet was cut up the front to the top of his brown boots. His chest was wrapped in green silk, and an impressive rich brown cape embraced his generous shoulders, falling to the ground in a shimmering cascade of opulence, his sword hung by his side, sheathed in a magnificent, bejeweled scabbard. Thranduil Oropherion, Sindarin King of the Greenwood.

Beside him stood Bandorion, Thranduil’s brother, and Barathon, his nephew. To the other side stood Thranduil’s sister Caladwen and his niece Alastegiel. Finally, behind the king stood a dark elf that sent a shiver up Elladan’s spine.

Legolas walked slowly towards his father, their eyes not once disengaging.

As he drew nearer, the king’s eyes shifted to his son’s hair, following the thick locks, as they disappeared well past his waist. His eyes shone a brilliant green, not their customary sky blue, so like his own. He was fit beyond his usual standards, and a mighty weapon sat on his muscled back.

This was his son, yet he was changed, physically and mentally -yet he was still, heart-breakingly beautiful to behold, and he loved him above all else, above anyone else.

He smiled then, as Legolas moved before him and knelt, bowing his head and waiting for his father’s leave to rise.

“Rise.”

And he did, yet no sooner had he reincorporated himself that his father bowed low to him, revealing the crown of his head as protocol dictated when saluting a king. Now, the entire Greenwood followed suit until the king stood once more.

“Welcome home, Lord of the Forests, King Legolas.”

And there it was, his father had recognized his status with this one, simple gesture. Legolas knew he held back, as he himself did, but the love and pride shone from his father’s eyes so that it set his skin tingling and his eyes itching – there was nothing he wanted more now, than to melt into the strong arms and breathe in the reassuring scent of his protector.

Thranduil made a subtle gesture to his side and Legolas immediately joined the group of dignitaries, as Galdithion approached, accompanied by Elladan and Melven.

Galdithion knelt before his king, yet before he could rise, he found himself looking at his sire’s black boots.

Standing once more, he found the king’s face before him, feeling his hand as it came to rest on his shoulder - heard his deep mellifluous voice as he spoke.

“You have kept him safe, and returned him to me. I expected no less of you, faithful guard, Captain Galdithion.”

Galdithion’s eyes bulged uncontrollably, for he had not expected to be promoted, in public and with no prior warning, yet delighted he was.

The king took his arm then, placing a new armband of gold and mithril over his bicep, marking his new rank. The sovereign smiled then for the first time, as Galdithion bowed once more before catching his king’s eyes once more.

“You honor me, my King. I have already offered you and your son my life, and I have nothing more to give, save to renew my vows to you today.”

“Brave Captain. Now tell me, who stands here with you?”

“My Lord, may I introduce Lord Elladan Elrondion, and Lieutenant Melven Hadorion, both of the Imladris militia.”

Both stepped forward and bowed reverently to the imposing elf before them. The King was, however, momentarily taken back.

“You are of a likeness with your father, Lord Elladan.”

“Yes, my Lord. I bring greetings from Lord Elrond Earendilion, your ally, and I relay to you his thanks for your part in making the Spring Festival the great success it has been. My father sincerely hopes that a meeting of state may come to take place between you soon.”

“And that is my wish also. I would converse with you later, at dinner perhaps. Meanwhile, be you both most welcome to my realm, young lieutenants – that your stay with us be instructive, useful and pleasurable.

The warriors bowed once more, leaving room for Aradan to step forward with a once more quaking Balentar and an apprehensive Eruanna, who stared as if fascinated at the floor, before looking up into the wise eyes of Thranduil, and falling completely and utterly in love.

Once the introductions had been completed, the king turned his attention to the crowd, and addressed them formally.

“Tonight, we will feast to mark the homecoming of our representatives, who return to us victorious, and to welcome our Noldorin guests. We also celebrate our Prince’s ascension, as is the Lady Yavanna’s will. Now go, and rejoice, for happy times are upon us.”

Yet before Thranduil could invite his son inside, he was surrounded by family and friends, touching him as they kissed him and placed flowers in his strange hair. It was fifteen minutes before he was able to extricate himself, calling over to Melven and Elladan, who stood next to a euphoric Galdithion.

“Galion will show you to your quarters, my friends. I will seek you out before tonight’s feast.”

“Go, my Lord, we will see each other anon,” smiled Elladan, as they were led away by Galion, the Greenwood’s famous housemaster.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Arcane Land