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Greenleaf & Imladris 14 - Crucible of Love	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 6739 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 3
- 4
- 5
Part IV

“What madness has taken him?” Elladan said, worry etching his smooth brow. He stepped forward to follow his twin.

Legolas stayed him. “Let me talk to him,” he pleaded.

Elladan protested. “You saw his reaction to us,” he pointed out. “He is distraught beyond belief. I have never seen him thusly.”

“Nor I. Yet I would help him, Elladan,” the archer said. “Let me do this. Let me help him if I can.”

The Elf-lord looked at him uncertainly. Finally, he sighed and nodded. Legolas hurried after the younger twin.

He searched for several minutes, following the evidence of Elrohir’s discomposed passage through the woods. Finally, he caught a glimpse of black against a slender tree trunk. The breeze carried a familiar and singularly appealing scent to him. Pine and heather and clean rushing waters. The sweet enticing scent of the hidden vale. Of Elrohir.

He came upon the twin seated upon the springy grass, leaning wearily against the tree, arms folded upon his bent knees, head bowed, eyes closed tightly.

Legolas got down on his knees and reached out to Elrohir. At a loss at how to ease the other, he pulled him into his arms and cradled him against his chest. The warrior started, then tried to pull away but Legolas refused to release him.

“I wish you would tell me what troubles you,” he whispered.

Elrohir only shook his head, slumped against his friend. At least, he has stopped resisting, Legolas thought. That was a start.

He held his friend, stroking the sable hair, hoping his compassion and empathy might reach him. One thought comforted him in turn. Elrohir had been protective of him during the battle, leaving Halbarad’s side to take his place by the archer as was his wont of old. Surely that signaled some change in him. A return perhaps to the comrade he knew?

He was startled when he felt Elrohir’s face turn into his neck. He felt warm lips press tellingly against the slope of his throat. Legolas shivered. It was now some four hundred years since he’d last yielded to his friend when he’d comforted him during and after the dark day it was revealed that Celebrian would have to leave for the Blessed Realm ahead of her husband and children.

He cannot want this now, Legolas thought with some apprehension. I did not expect it. I am not prepared.

He hoped he was wrong. He hoped Elrohir would not ask it of him this day. But his hope failed him. He looked down at his friend and saw stormy grey eyes staring up at him. He knew the look in those eyes.

“Elrohir—”

He got no further. The raven-haired Elf grasped him by the nape and drew his head down. He gasped as their lips met in a hard, almost violent kiss. Legolas was caught by surprise. There was nothing gentle or caring about this. Only pure hunger. Sheer need.

He tried to pull away but Elrohir only increased his grip on him. Legolas became aware that though they were fairly equal in strength, passion would lend Elrohir greater power. That became evident when Elrohir broke off the kiss only to tug at the clasp of the prince’s cloak so that it came open. With one hand he drew off the cloak and threw it down on the grass. Shocked, Legolas understood what he intended. He tried to pull away but Elrohir’s grasp on his arm was hard and unyielding. Legolas felt his tunic being unfastened; he panicked and tried to struggle out of his friend’s grip.

“Elrohir, stop!” he pleaded.

Do not deny me!

The imploring thought fairly cried out to him. Legolas’ resistance faltered. Under other circumstances, he would have fought back and fled. But he could not forget Elrohir’s grief, could not set aside the fear of losing his friend to whatever sadness was consuming him. For better or worse, his love for Elrohir would remain paramount no matter the consequences.

I yielded before. I can do so again.

He did not resist when Elrohir bore him down upon his cloak. Yet it was all he could do not to protest when his friend tugged at the clasps of his tunic, tore at the lacing of his breeches, each motion brusque and hasty yet done with curious precision. Their ensuing intimacy bore none of the concern and care Elrohir had always shown him in the past. For the first time, Legolas did not feel loved but violated.

The feeling heightened when Elrohir took him with little preparation. It was a mercy his body was no longer untried and the warrior slid into him with little difficulty. But he was not fully aroused and was therefore unready for such a peremptory breaching. Given a little time he would have adjusted to the discomfort. But to his shock, Elrohir did not allow him even the briefest of respites but began to drive into him so brutally that he finally cried out in pain. He desperately clutched at the cloak beneath him; shut his eyes as he prayed it would soon be over.

His agonized countenance registered upon Elrohir’s fevered senses. Remorse smote him at the sight of Legolas’ distress and he moved to make amends no matter how belated. He slowed down, tempered the feral edge of his thrusts and applied himself to ensuring the archer derived some pleasure from this feral coupling.

Legolas was relieved when Elrohir gentled his pace and the pain diminished. But he was startled when he felt the twin’s hands upon him, fondling him with practiced skill. Shame singed him when his body responded to his friend’s masterful ministrations. It should have been inconceivable that he would derive any pleasure from what was for all intents and purposes his ravagement by Elrohir but his body betrayed him and he came alive with each stroke and caress.

The bruising thrusts began once more, Elrohir driving into him so hard and deeply he thought he would burst. But the discomfort was blunted by the pleasure dealt by the other’s hands and he soon lost himself to the sensations pooling forcefully in his groin.

His release came amidst an odd mixture of rapture and humiliation. To be so easily reduced to such wanton need even under virtual assault was degrading to say the least. He shuddered with relief when Elrohir’s found his own completion. He did not think he could have borne more of the Elf-knight’s near savage handling.

It felt like ages later when Legolas drew on his clothes. He was weary in body and spirit. His lips were slightly swollen; there was a bruised cut at the corner of his mouth. His slender frame bore dark marks from rough fingers and rapacious lips and teeth and he ached all over. His fingers shook as he tried to refasten the clasps on his tunic. His shoulders drooped. He could not even concentrate enough to get the simple task done.

He started when Elrohir knelt before him and brushed aside his hands. “Let me do it,” the twin quietly said.

Legolas watched him in silence. When he was done, Elrohir rose once more. Legolas followed suit. He waited for the other to say something.

He needed answers. He wanted to know the reason for what had just happened. But when no explanation was forthcoming he decided to speak.

“Perhaps you’ll tell me now what troubles you?” he quietly asked.

Elrohir shook his head. “There is nothing to tell.”

“Elrohir—”

“There is nothing!”

The last was uttered with such cold finality that it stunned Legolas. He stared at his friend, his heart heavy with hurt. “Are you telling me that you made me do this for nothing?” he asked in a dangerously low voice.

Elrohir looked away. “I am sorry if I hurt you,” was all he would say.

Legolas felt his throat tighten with indescribable anguish. Of a sudden he felt as if a stain was upon him. I swallowed my pride, buried my dignity and for what? he thought painfully. To save a friendship he no longer cares for? He felt tears of anger and sorrow sting his eyes. He fought to keep them dammed. He would shed no more of his dignity than he already had.

He picked up his cloak and pulled it on. Eyes glittering with unshed tears, he said: “I yielded for the sake of the love I have always borne you. The least you could have done was tell me that you no longer value it.”

Though his voice shook with emotion, his gaze did not waver. He drew the hood over his golden head shadowing the injury on his mouth. Without another word, he turned away and walked back to the camp.

He did not know it but his words had their effect on Elrohir. The raven-haired Elf watched him go, his heart bursting with pain. But he could not bring himself to go after him.

‘Tis better this way. He will forget and so will I.

*******

Elladan was discouraged. Sitting by the campfire, he could not participate in the conversation of the Rangers on watch. His thoughts were too confused.

Though it was but hours since Legolas had followed Elrohir into the woods, presumably to talk, it felt more like days. Elladan had been hopeful that the bond between them would be restored, as would the close relationship the three of them had once shared. But that had not happened. Apparently, they had done more than just talk. Elladan did not know what had occurred between the two but he could tell it had been disastrous at best.

He looked at his brother who sat by himself in the dark shadow of a tree. He had kept to himself, scarcely exchanging a word with his companions. And he avoided Legolas as if his life depended on it.

Come to think of it, Legolas had done the same thing. Elladan turned his head to the prone figure of his friend who lay asleep some distance away from the rest of the company. He frowned. There was something unusual in the way Legolas lay. He got to his feet and walked to the Mirkwood Elf. Aye, that was it, he realized when he saw him.

Legolas was curled up on his side, his cloak wrapped around him like a shroud. It was not the way he had ever seen the Elf asleep. The prince always lay stretched out whether on his back or on his side. And he never wrapped himself with the cloak as he did now. With his natural resistance to extreme climates, there was no great need to do so.

He also noticed that the prince had kept the hood of the cloak up. How odd. And then it struck him that Legolas had worn it that way ever since… Apprehension filled Elladan. What is he hiding?

He knelt beside his friend, bent low and peered into his face. He blinked. There was a shadow at the side of his mouth. Elladan reached out and with infinite care so as not to disturb the sleeping Elf, pushed the hood aside.

He stared at the bruised cut that marred the perfect mouth. He fell back appalled. How...? Who...?

On the heels of that thought came suspicion. He jerked his head around and his eyes zeroed in on his brother. Swearing under his breath, he gently pulled the hood back into place and rose to his feet.

Swiftly he strode to his brother, his thoughts running into each other in his agitation. He dropped to his knee before Elrohir, startling the latter, and asked without preamble: “What did you do to Legolas?”

“What are you talking about?” Elrohir retorted.

“Why does he have a wound on his mouth?” Elladan persisted. “Did you strike him?”

“Of course not!” Elrohir said indignantly. “I would never raise a hand to him.”

“Then what—?” Elladan went still, his eyes widening with shock. “Elrohir, you did not force him…” His voice trailed away for he was too horrified to continue.

“I do not take unwilling partners, Elladan!” his brother snapped, bristling at the very notion.

Elladan stared at him. It was as if he was talking to a stranger instead of the twin who had shared virtually every waking hour of life with him. Not just the aloof sibling of the last six years but a totally unknown entity.

“And how willing was he?” he asked harshly. “Or did you make it impossible for him to refuse?” Elrohir’s start was enough to confirm his awful suspicions. He grabbed his twin by the arm. “How did he come to be hurt?” he hissed. “Tell me the truth, brother, or I will forget our kinship and do you harm!”

Elrohir wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp. He stared back at Elladan, his eyes open wells of emotion. Elladan shivered at the darkness he saw in them.

“I was rough,” Elrohir said. “That was all.”

Elladan let out his breath. “Why would you do this to him?” he questioned. When Elrohir remained silent, he said, “Did you tell him why?” The other twin shook his head. “Sweet Eru, you made him yield and gave him no reason for it?” Elladan half exclaimed. He forced his voice down when the Rangers curiously turned their heads in their direction. “I cannot believe he did not want to know.”

“He asked but I could not tell him,” Elrohir conceded bending his head.

Elladan felt sick. “He went after you because he wanted to help you, because he wished to restore your friendship. And instead you—” He slammed his hand against the tree in outrage. “What has happened to you, Elrohir? What drives you that you should hurt one who has ever remained caring and true no matter what you asked of him?”

He sat back feeling spent. “He loved you enough to go beyond the bounds of friendship to aid you. How many do you think would make such a sacrifice for a friend? I know of none.”

Still Elrohir refused to respond. Elladan grew angry. It was an alien feeling that he should feel this anger for his twin and the thought only fed his rage. He clenched his fists, trying to keep calm. What use would there be in striking his brother?

“You once said you could not bear to lose him,” he whispered bitterly. “I see it is no longer true because, by Elbereth, you have ensured that Legolas will depart from our lives and never return. But perhaps that is exactly what you seek in which case I am wasting my time trying to talk sense into you.”

He rose and returned to his place by the fire. If the Rangers noted the difference in his demeanor they did not comment on it. But none failed to discern that some great trouble now sundered the brethren.

To be continued…
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Greenleaf & Imladris 14 - Crucible of Love