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Greenleaf & Imladris 30 - Finale: Just Reward	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4743 -:- 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
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Interlude: The Eyes of the Beholder

Taur Galen, Narquelië

Entering their bedchamber, Legolas at once regarded his mate with curiosity and just a shade of reproof. Elrohir was stretched out on their bed, quietly reading a book. Dressed in naught but bed-trousers, his sable hair loose about his shoulders, he was a most enticing vision. But though the very sight of the Elf-knight stirred him, Legolas firmly set aside his feelings.

He skirted the bed, catching Elrohir’s eyes as he did. The warrior glanced at him impassively, noting the archer’s slight frown. He waited for Legolas to voice whatever it was that disturbed him.

The prince drew out a towel and night-robe then headed for the bathing chamber. But ere he entered the adjacent room, he stopped and met the darkling Elf’s gaze.

“Nana tells me you stuffed Girluin into the feed barrel by the stables,” he abruptly said. “Is this true?”

Elrohir simply nodded.

“And used the remnants of his painting of me to, er, adorn his person?”

Again, another nod. Legolas’ frown deepened. “Aduial, he has painted my family’s portraits for centuries uncounted,” he said. “How could you treat him with such disrespect?”

Elrohir’s eyes glittered perilously. “I can when he dares to use you so basely,” he retorted.

“Use me basely?” Legolas said bewilderment. “He did a portrait of me, Elrohir. As my Adar”—Father—“wished. What is so base about that?”

“That he rendered you in all your naked splendor.”

Legolas gaped at him. “He what?”

“I came upon him leering at it,” Elrohir quietly explained. “He had painted your countenance but below your neck he portrayed you in naught but your skin. And in graphic detail at that.”

Legolas gasped. “But I never posed for him thusly!” he exclaimed.

Elrohir nodded. “I know you did not else you would have heard of my displeasure afore this,” he said. “He resorted to his imagination, no doubt aided by what little he had seen of you in all his years of service to your family.”

Legolas stared at the warrior in mounting anger. At length, he pursed his mouth grimly and said, “I take back what I said, Aduial. Indeed, you were kind to merely adorn him with his work. Would that you had stuffed it down his throat!”

With that, the prince entered the bathing chamber. Elrohir smiled faintly and went back to his book. But he hardly read a word as he awaited his spouse’s return.

A scant half hour later, Legolas emerged from the other room. Clad in his loose robe, his fair locks damp and streaming down his back like gold silk, he again skirted the bed and headed for the writing desk. Elrohir watched him intently as he sat at the table and began to sort out various missives. Elrohir’s gaze did not waver but only intensified.

It did not take long for Legolas to feel the heat of his mate’s scrutiny. He lifted his eyes from the letter he was reading and turned to look at the twin. A quiver snaked through his limbs at the other’s unrelenting stare.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asked.

Elrohir’s smile held no humor in it. “I was pondering my situation,” he remarked. “I have the wondrous fortune to be wed to one of the fairest Elves in Eldamar; so fair that even so august an artist as Girluin could not stay his need to feed his lust for him. Yet this fair Elf will not let me so much as touch him. I would like to know why.”

The threatening undertones in Elrohir’s statement elicited a sharp inhalation from Legolas. The archer bit his lip then bravely turned in his seat to face his mate.

“I am grown big as Gondor’s largest warship,” Legolas murmured. “How can you think me fair?”

Elrohir lifted one elegant eyebrow. “Legolas, you would still be the fairest Elf alive even were you as huge as the fleets of Gondor and Harad combined,” he declared. He patted the bed beside him in tacit invitation.

Legolas took another deep breath and did as he was bid. Despite his self-belittlement, he was indeed beyond passing fair. His skin glowed from within giving him an incandescent beauty that was breathtaking to behold. Though his torso was no longer lissome but now rotund from the continued growth of the child within, he did not seem so much swollen as ripe as a rosy peach. But it seemed he did not recognize this as was evinced by his responses to Elrohir’s overtures.

He sat down hesitantly by his mate; flinched slightly when Elrohir pulled him close. And when the Elf-knight untied his sash allowing his robe to fall open, he turned his face away, his cheeks staining with color.

Elrohir studied him wonderingly. “What is wrong, Legolas?” When the archer only shook his head, the twin drew back with a sigh. “You do not want this,” he said softly. “Or is it that you do not want me?”

This suggestion had the effect of forcing Legolas to turn and face him at once. “Nay!” he protested. “I do want you. Indeed, I – I have been yearning for you these past many weeks.”

Elrohir gazed at him bemusedly. “Then why do you keep me at bay, Calenlass?” he queried.

Legolas bit his lip then lowered his eyes to his belly. “You cannot possibly want me like this,” he whispered. “I am misshapen, Elrohir. Grotesque. How could you desire me?”

He felt a gentle hand slip under his chin and lift it until he met Elrohir’s argent eyes. “In the same way that all but the most foolish of men desire their women even when they are at their ripest,” he tenderly said. “The loveliness of an expectant woman is beyond compare. Indeed, ‘tis a pity that such beauty lasts but a brief season.”

“That may be true for a woman,” Legolas said hesitantly. “But not for an ellon.”—male Elf. “No man was fashioned for this. ‘Tis not natural. How can you even bear to look at me?”

Ignoring the prince’s apprehensive start, Elrohir reached up and drew the robe from his shoulders and down his arms, smiling at the deepening color in the prince’s cheeks. “Do not doubt your allure, melethron”—lover—he murmured huskily. “You have it in abundance. Or have you not yet realized how beauteous you are? How irresistible you can be. Not only in my eyes but in the eyes of many others as well.”

The archer shook his head. “That is not true of all,” he murmured. “Last we were in Alqualondë, there were those who thought me a strange sight. I saw the amusement in their eyes. As I did in the eyes of some Elves in Tirion.”

Elrohir snorted with ire. “Then they are blind,” he stated icily. “As much in their minds as their vision.” His voice warmed once more. “You were one of the comeliest Elves to grace Middle-earth. So perilously beautiful that mortals desired you but feared to approach you. That has not changed, inden.”—my heart. “You are still the closest thing to perfection that I have ever known.”

Legolas had a moment to savor his mate’s praise before he was gently but firmly borne down upon the bed. He swallowed nervously. “Are you certain?” he asked in a tremulous voice.

“More than certain,” Elrohir crooned. His fingertips ghosted over the taut skin of the archer’s distended belly. “There is none more beautiful than any creature that carries life and nurtures it. I envy our child, Legolas, that he can lie safe and warm within you. Would that I could crawl into you and know such bliss.”

Legolas’ eyes widened at this tender utterance. And then he gasped as he felt a distinct kick from within. Directly beneath Elrohir’s hand. Legolas looked at his spouse and saw the expression of complete delight and awe on his handsome face.

“It seems our child agrees with the rightness of our love, Calenlass. With our loving.” Elrohir leaned down and dropped several kisses on the prince’s abdomen. Legolas watched him in some astonishment.

Grey eyes lifted to gaze at him. The archer caught his breath. The lust in the twilight pools had not abated one whit but had deepened even further. And when Elrohir shed his trousers and revealed a formidable arousal, Legolas let go of some of his uncertainty. For the first time in weeks, he began to believe that he was not after all what he had thought. He was beautiful in Elrohir’s eyes. That was all that mattered.

He moaned softly as the Elf-knight caught his lips in a searing caress. In all their years together, one thing had not changed. Elrohir’s kisses were as potent as when he had first known them. He closed his eyes and let himself drown in the sensations of his mate’s sensual attentions.

His lips were quite swollen by the time Elrohir released them to explore the white column of his sleek neck, marking the pale flesh with scarlet bruises. He gasped as his nipples were suckled; they felt more sensitive than of yore and were plumper as well. Was it any wonder that Elrohir played with them far longer than he used to? And then the warrior was following the arcing line of his belly, his hands mapping its slopes, his tongue teasing his navel.

Legolas could not help tensing as the Elf-knight disappeared from his line of sight, his dark head lowering between his outspread thighs. But in the next instant, all thought abruptly vanished as he was engulfed in moist and heady warmth.

Elrohir drew on him steadily, voraciously, as if milking him of all that he had withheld for so many weeks. It was too much for Legolas to bear. The pleasurable tension pooled in his groin inexorably until finally, he cried out his release and his relief and spent himself explosively in the Elf-knight’s demanding mouth.

He fell back, panting hard at so intense a climax. When he felt Elrohir’s arms slip around him to enfold his body, he readily turned, pressing his mouth needfully against the warrior’s lips. He had denied himself this pleasure out of fear of his undesirability to his mate. But assured most heartily of Elrohir’s never waning lust for him, he now sought what he yearned for and a yearning of such forcefulness as he had not known before. Given free rein it consumed him beyond endurance.

Elrohir felt his hunger and fed it with alacrity. Soon, Legolas was shuddering against him and his kisses had turned almost desperate with want. Elrohir drew away slightly to look at his charmingly flushed prince.

“I need you,” Legolas whispered, blue eyes so dilated they seemed almost black.

“As I need you,” Elrohir crooned softly, scattering kisses on the porcelain fair countenance.

“But how—?” Legolas implored. “This bulk of mine—”

Elrohir cut off his anxious words with a kiss. He stroked the archer’s fine cheekbone soothingly. “I trafficked with whores and faithless wives in Middle-earth during my benighted youth,” he reminded the prince. “Even when they were great with child. Trust me, meleth”—love—“there are ways to get around this problem.”

Even as he spoke, he placed a pillow beneath the other Elf’s belly to support its weight, mindful as always of Legolas’ comfort. He slipped behind his mate then pulled him back into the slight curve of his body that he might rest against his tall frame.

Legolas sighed as his hair was pushed aside then caught his breath as kisses were pressed against his nape and the back of his shoulders. Instinctively pushing against the Elf-knight, he soon felt the evidence of his spouse’s desire for him against his backside.

“Please, Elrohir,” he softly implored. The warrior acceded to his desire.

He groaned as he was filled, gasped raggedly as he was repeatedly breached. Elrohir reached around him and curled his hand around the prince’s once again aching shaft.

“Have my loving, Calenlass,” he whispered hoarsely. “Have my love.”

Nearing the summit of his forbearance, sobbing in sheer rapture, Legolas turned his head, begging for his lips to be pillaged anew by the twin. His mute request was swiftly answered and he lost himself wholly to the mounting sensations of their imminent completion.

It came with all the force of a gale. Elrohir gasped out his golden prince’s name as he spilled himself within his fair form even as Legolas expended his seed upon his stroking hand. They lay thus for several heartbeats as they waited out the last sweeps of their spent desire.

Elrohir carefully helped Legolas lie back before gathering him close in his arms. The archer snuggled in his embrace ere lifting a grateful if slightly puzzled countenance to him.

“Elrohir? Why is it that the connection between us seems muted?” he asked. “It has been so since I conceived.”

Elrohir smiled and pushed an errant lock of gold silk from the prince’s cheek. “‘Tis only to protect our child,” he explained. “The strength of our passion would overwhelm the babe within you and so it has been dulled for the duration of your term.”

A slight frown marred the prince’s smooth temple. “Will it be restored?” he asked vexedly. “I miss the oneness it bestows upon us, Aduial.”

Elrohir smiled. “It will be restored once you birth our child. ‘Tis the way of our kindred, meleth.”

Legolas relaxed at this assurance and settled further into the twin’s embrace. Whatever doubts he had harbored about Elrohir’s regard for him had been all but vanquished. By his Elf-knight’s peerless loving and the love that made it so.

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

Glossary:

Narquelië - Quenya for October

Nana - Mama

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

To be continued…
- 3
- 4
- 5
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Greenleaf & Imladris 30 - Finale: Just Reward