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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.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER FOUR

His last day in Imladris had been a flurry of activity. Packing had been completed and the chests and bags now stood against the wall beside his door, amongst them, Yavanna’s ornate chest that housed his ceremonial attire. It was a stark reminder of his departure come the morning.

Their horses had been prepared, their wagons had been inspected, wheels and tack oiled. There was nothing more to do, save load their luggage, which had grown twice its size at least, since their arrival.

Legolas had spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon overseeing their preparations for departure, and organizing the warriors for the dangerous journey back to their woods. With Henian staying in Imladris on the exchange program, Gondien would be his captain for the ride back. Glorfindel had also been closeted with his own patrol, for he would be moving out with Greenwood caravan, escorting them to the eastern borders of the valley.

Now that all had been seen to, Legolas decided to take a last walk through the grounds of the Last Homely House, and perhaps to Celebrian’s now vibrant gardens. Then, he would seek out Glorfindel.

It was late afternoon, and the hum of insects was at full force; grasshoppers and crickets, bees and beetles; they all sung their strange song, along with the warbling and whistling of the early evening birds, who added their cheery descant to the inimitable symphony of nature.

He closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply, noting the sweet aroma of Witch Hazel and Honeysuckle, Jasmine and Hyacinth. His home still smelt like this, in the northern areas, at least; in that part of the forest that was still untouched by evil – the part they still called Greenwood.

Opening his eyes once more, he spotted Arwen, not far away. She had seen him with his eyes closed and so she had waited, not wanting to interrupt. Yet she did not speak, she simply gestured to him to follow her, before gliding away on her path through the trees.

Following slowly, he finally emerged into a small clearing, where he found the ‘band of friends’ lounging beneath the bows, sitting in a ragged circle, obviously having been there for some time, as the remnants of their picnic suggested.

Legolas smiled as he sat beside them, wondering what they had been discussing, for their faces were dour indeed. If he had to guess, he would be inclined to think they spoke of Elladan’s imminent departure to the Greenwood, together with Melven.

“It is good that Arwen spotted you, for we wanted to talk to you,” began Elrohir.

“Then tell me, my friends,” he said, as he crossed his legs and rested his arms upon his knees.

It was Elladan who broke the ensuing silence.

“You come from the meeting?”

“Not directly,” he smirked, “but yes, all has been decided.”

“And my candidature?”

“Was reiterated, yes, as was Melven’s. I will admit I am apprehensive that you do not quite realize what to expect – if I am wrong, tell me, my friend, for I do not wish to patronize you, ‘tis not my intention.”

“Nay, you are right, I am sure I do not know what I am getting myself into, yet that is a secondary concern to me. I thought it through most thoroughly, Legolas. I have weighed the pros and cons, I have spoken to Elrohir, Arwen, Father and Glorfindel, I have had time enough to digest their words, and I am sure – this is what I want – if you will have me.”

Legolas searched his eyes then, and decided to see if he could surprise the warrior, shock him with his words, before answering his question.

“You will be in the wilds more than at the fortress. You will fight almost on a daily basis. You will be either wounded or exhausted almost the entire time you spend in the Greenwood. You will make the best and most loyal of friends, and then you will watch them die, not peacefully, but cruelly. You will cradle them in your arms and talk to them, sing to them, as they fade, wailing or screaming, crying and gasping for air, drowning in their own blood, clutching at their severed limbs. You will talk to young brides, bonded mates, young sons and daughters, and tell them that their loved one is dead, that he died a hero to the nation, you will be punched and scratched, slapped and insulted by the ones that are left behind, and your heart will rent itself in two. You will feel terror, anxiety, all-encompasing disgust at the blight of the trees in the south - you will gag and vomit at their foul stench. You will cower in terror before the evil of the Ulairi as their screams rip into the heart of your soul … Elladan – can you? Can you truly do this, my friend?”

They sat and stared at him as a tear escaped Arwen’s grief-stricken eyes. Haldir had understood him more than most, yet although Lorien was closer to Dol Guldur, they rarely ventured outside their protected borders.

Elrohir sat staring at his brother beside him, as if echoing the king’s words, his expression almost accusing.

“Your words are harsh,” said Elladan, “and they give me food for thought, yet they will not sway me, for my conviction is absolute. I want to achieve all I can as a warrior; perhaps I will not be as good as I wish to be, and yet again, perhaps I will. You are telling me that a warrior in the Greenwood relies not only on his blade, and his bow, but on the strength of his mind and soul and I tell you honestly that I do not know what strength I possess, only that I wish it – is that enough?”

Legolas’ eyes bored into his, the irisis moving from side to side, reading every nuance, considering every word he had said, contrasted it all with what he already knew of the Peredhil.

“Then yes, I will have you,” he said, as he smiled sadly at this brave elf.

Elladan returned the smile as he nodded, yet Elrohir’s eyes took to the floor, pensive.

“And what of the others, Legolas. Will Llyn stay? And Amanthor?” asked Rumil, successfully redirecting the conversation from the dour turn it had taken.

“Yes, Llyn will stay to tutor with Erestor. Amanthor and Mentathiel will also stay on the exchange program with Lindir. Maeron is to stay too, you may be surprised, and in his place, we will receive Balentar.”

“Balentar is an excellent healer, Legolas,” said Elrohir most softly. “He studies toxins, you know, and has a magnificent publication on the topic.”

“Yes, I know. ‘Tis one of the reasons his candidature was accepted, for you have no documentation of the various classes of spider toxin we have in the Greenwood. It will be valuable to record the information.”

The conversation continued a while longer, until Legolas decided it was time to head back, for this was the last night he had with his lovers.

“Well, my friends. I may not get the opportunity later on, or indeed tomorrow, therefore I would bid you goodbye now, here, while we may.

They stood then, as Haldir approached Legolas, a smile on his face as he held his arms out to clasp those of his newfound friend.

“It has been a great pleasure, Legolas. I hope we will meet soon, perhaps in fair Lorien?”

“I would love that and I am honored to call you ‘friend’.”

Rumil likewise, clasped his forearms. “We have an appointment with the short swords, you and I.”

“I look forward to the sport!”

“I will see you later, Legolas,” said Elladan as he approached his friend, clasping his shoulder as he walked past him on his way back to the house, for he had much to prepare. He knew that Elrohir and Arwen sought reassurances from the king, and he did not want to be around when they were not given.

“Legolas, look after him; keep him safe, for I cannot survive the loss of him,” said Elrohir worriedly. Arwen moved beside her brother then, waiting for Legolas to answer the younger twin’s heartfelt plea. Yet they were both sadly disappointed, for Legolas’ face became blank as he watched to two, hopeful faces transform into grimaces of pain.

He placed a comforting hand on their shoulders, as he spoke the only words his conscience would allow.

“I cannot promise you anything, my friends. For it is the way of the warrior to face death, accept it even, in service to their nation. Elladan has made his choice and he knows that his life may end, that he may never see you again. All that I can do is to protect him, with my life should it become necessary. That is all I can offer you, ‘tis all I have to give.”

Elrohir heaved a great sigh as he checked his emotions, nodded curtly at Legolas, and walked away, leaving Arwen alone with the king.

She watched him go, before turning back to Legolas, closing the gap between them then, and cupping his cheek softly in her hand as she gazed into his sad eyes, her own brimming with unshed tears.

“Thank you.”

“What is this, Arwen? This feeling that we share?” he whispered.

“For me, it is desire, Legolas, and something more. Yet I know I cannot have you the way I wish it, for you love another, and so,” she hesitated a moment, as a single tear traced its way down her marble cheek, “I will settle for your friendship, if you will have it?”

“Of course I will have it!” he said, as he took her into a fierce hug, pulling her close to his body, taking as much as giving the comfort that Arwen needed.

…………………………………………………………………

Glorfindel had finally found his lover sitting on a stone bench near the house, lost in thought as he stared off into nothing. He had been absent, immersed in thoughts of what Glorfindel could well imagine, for his mask was down, his screen of peace and well-being had slipped and Glorfindel now had a first glimpse into the true feelings of his lover’s heart. He looked desperate, his brow furrowed, his eyes downcast, and Glorfindel wanted nothing but to run to him, to take him in his arms and hold him tight, smooth back his hair and wipe the frown from his beauteous visage.

But he stayed himself, for he knew Legolas would not feel comfortable with having shown his raw, untempered feelings, and so he stepped heavily upon the ground, giving him time to compose himself, which he did – and the transformation was nothing short of skillful. Glorfindel wondered then, if the day would ever come when Legolas did not feel he had to hide his feelings thus.

“What say you to procuring a basket, and inviting our dark-haired friends to the pool?”

“Um, that sounds perfect. ‘Tis a hot evening, the last I will share with you for some time. I would not waste a single moment of it.” And there it was again, it had slipped again, almost imperceptively, yet he had seen it - the intense sadness and melancholy, and again a wave of love and desire crashed over the Gondolidrim warrior.

Legolas had taken it upon himself to extend the personal invitation to Elrond and Erestor, and Glorfindel was to banter with the kitchen staff to provision themselves for the evening.

Both Elrond and Erestor had been delighted at the proposal. Their lordly duties had been fulfilled for the day, and were now free to enjoy their evening. Dressing accordingly, the three lovers walked out into the hot spring evening, bound for the sheltered pool, where they met an already waiting Glorfindel, two large baskets at his feet.

“Gaerwyn has been indulgent, I see,” drawled Legolas, as he approached Glorfindel, kissing him hard on the lips as he unbuckled his belt, unclasped his tunic and undershirt, pulled of his boots and breeches, and dived into the peaceful, inky waters of the rocky pool.

Smiling, Glorfindel greeted his other two lovers, who sat with him, loosening their own clothing and inspecting the contents of the baskets.

And what a feast had been prepared for them, for there was cold chicken, a fresh spring salad, stuffed mushrooms, savoury pastries, marzipan, fresh fruit – Erestor was delighted, while Elrond imagined the possibilities that such a feast presented.

Erestor grinned then, as the sounds of splashing reached his ears, and his groin, for the Forest Lord was frolicking naked in the waters.

Elrond was thinking the same. One more night with this marvel of nature, and he would not squander it. And so he unclasped his own tunic, almost ripping the rich cloth from his body as he rose, naked, and ran to the pool before diving in and searching for his woodland prey.

Glorfindel and Erestor were left looking at each other, utterly dumbfounded, for since when had Elrond been so impetuous?

Well, they would not be left alone to guard the picnic, and so they stripped and ran in search of their own woodland feast.

Legolas swam under the surface of the water, watching as his three lovers came crashing into the crystal clean waters. Making his selection, he slithered over to the blonde male, and deftly swallowed his cock, wrapping his arms around his hips and cupping his buttocks.

Glorfindel sucked in a surprised gulp of air as his member was engulfed by a warm mouth below the surface. Elrond and Erestor drew up beside him and peered into the rippling liquid, seeing only a mass of blond locks floating freely before Glorfindel’s groin.

The warrior moaned, as he arched his back and opened his legs, for the sensations Legolas was wringing from him were making him dizzy with desire.

Elrond bent then, and took a nipple into his mouth, as Erestor did likewise with the other, both placing a hand on the warriors’ taught back to steady him.

Legolas’ wet, shiny face emerged, smoothly and soundlessly breaking the surface, his eyes fixed upon the blue irises of the body he relished. Smiling angelically, he took a deep breath and submerged himself once more, leaving Glorfindel groaning in delight, for just that glimpse of the wet, woodland creature was enough to send his blood racing into frenzied anticipation, until he was encased once more and he came helplessly as his dark-haired lovers held him upright.

Glorfindel sighed as he let his body drop back into the water, fully submerging himself as he enjoyed the wonderful, tingling afterglow of pleasure. Legolas however, had scurried away, briefly surfacing for air before arching back under the fresh, cool water, his taut buttocks appearing and disappearing just as quickly.

Now that was an open provocation if ever Elrond had seen one, and so he submerged himself, peering into the depths for his Sylvan prey. It was swimming towards the rocks on the far side of the pool, and so he followed, surfacing at the large boulders, where Legolas now half leaned, half lay, his hair plastered to his scalp, down his neck, around his shoulders, clinging to his torso, his hips.

Legolas simply watched as Elrond emerged with eyes that bored into him intensely, his face a stony mask of determination as he approached the Forest Lord, holding out one hand to take the side of his face, and place a demanding kiss upon his wet lips, as his own lean body pressed against his blonde lover, his hot shaft brushing against the straining erection.

There was an urgency to Elrond’s kisses, thought Legolas. They were hard, passionate, and not once did his eyes stray from his own. It seemed to Legolas that Elrond was somehow pushing himself inside him, willing his soul to enter him, as his hands roamed his body, as if he thought perhaps, that Legolas would disappear.

The Forest King took Elrond’s face in his hands then, peering at him closely as his lover prepared to breech him.

“Take me one more time, Elrond. Love me, and know that you are loved in return; I shall miss you so…”

It was a far as he got, for the wind left him as Elrond drove into him. The healer could not bring himself to look away, his eyes fixed on those of his lover’s, watching as they would widen, then droop, only to roll back and then slowly open again, all in response to his thrusts, his slow yet powerful lunges that were giving them both such intense pleasure.

Legolas raised his legs then, circling Elrond’s torso and squeezing.

The lord gasped as he was clutched tightly and pulled forward, his cock submerging itself even deeper inside the golden elf as he increased his pace, cradling the heart-breakingly beautiful face once more between his hands.

“Sweet lover. Take my love and remember,” he ground out as he felt his orgasm building rapidly.

Legolas leant back, opening himself fully as Elrond’s eyes continued to bore into him as he was mastered so completely, so intensely, until he could take no more and moaned out his pleasure - acutely aware that Elrond watched every nuance, every twinge on his face. The lord thrust harder and harder, until he yelled out his own bliss, as his seed shot from him, again and again, still watching as the king himself spiraled into ecstasy, his own essence bathing his chest.

Elrond leant heavily over a heaving Legolas, for both were winded after their intense coupling, yet the moans and grunts coming from the other shore drew their attention, for Glorfindel was coming inside his dark lover who was face down over the mossy bank, half inside, half outside the water.

Legolas smiled placidly as he turned his face once more to Elrond, who was still inside him, and then took his lips in a seering kiss of love and gratitude.

The four lovers strolled back to where they had shed their clothing, Gaerwyn’s baskets awaiting them, as they sat upon the fresh grass, wanting to dry off before taking out the blankets they had brought with them.

Glorfindel had sat behind Legolas, pulling him back into his strong, protective embrace, encircling him with his powerful arms, as Elrond sat watching them, smiling indulgently yet somewhat sadly.

It was Erestor who took it upon himself to redirect a potentially heart-wrenching conversation, by flipping open the top of the first basket, adding an artistic flair as he revealed its contents, dish by dish.

“Fresh greens, dressed with fragrant oils and spices, hard quail’s eggs, ah! mushroom delights, my Lords! Ooh, and look at this – crispy breaded fowl. Oh, your favourite, Elrond, that tangy goat cheese – that will go well with these pickles. Ah, Glorfindel, you will love this crusty bread…”

“Erestor!” chuckled Legolas. “You have me salivating – cease your ranting and let me to it, for I am famished.”

“Nay! Nay! – You must wait for the second basket to be revealed,” he said, throwing his arms up into the air in theatrical impatience.

“Now, I presume this is the desert basket – oh yes, look, there is fruit, of course,” he said, reaching for it and placing it beside the already considerable feast that lay before them. “Ah, the marzipan – ooh Legolas you must try this, and ah – I cannot believe our luck, fresh cream… oh…”

“Erestor!!” shouted Elrond and Glorfindel, as Legolas chuckled wildly, shimmying over to the advisor and stealing a kiss. Erestor promptly stopped talking and poured himself into it, leaning desperately into the king’s demanding touch.

“I think I know what he needs, am I right, Erestor?” breathed Legolas huskily, as he kissed his way down the advisor’s neck.

“Oh, yes – oh!” he exclaimed then, as Legolas sucked on his nipples, pushing him down onto the grassy floor and moving over him. Staring down at the elf below him, he took his lips once more, this time in a bruisingly hard kiss, his knees opening Erestor’s long legs before reaching down to position himself, and driving his way inside his already slick lover, eliciting a surprised groan that set his whole body tingling.

Taking Erestor’s legs over his arms and placing his hands on his hips, he hoisted him forwards until Legolas was able to fuck him whilst kneeling, completely immobilizing his lover, jostling him mercilessly with his powerful thrusts.

Straightening his back and tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his movements, staying himself to make it last. However, Glorfindel and Elrond were not going to make that easy, as the general pushed up behind the kneeling king and rubbed his stiff cock against his thrusting buttocks. Elrond stood before him, and beside the elf Legolas was now pounding into, offering his own hard column for the blonde to suck on.

Legolas was reeling with desire. He leant his head back onto Glorfindel’s shoulder, whispering to him what he wanted.

“Fuck me, Glorfindel.”

“That is my intention, elf – hold yourself firm, for by the Gods I am going to rut you hard.”

Glorfindel’s words enflamed him even more, as he groaned loudly, feeling this lover’s fingers move inside him.

He looked up then, and engulfed the hard shaft before him, letting it slide down his throat as he took the balls and squeezed them.

Soon, the four lovers were driving into each other, Glorfindel setting Legolas and Erestor’s rhythm with his own, slow, deep thrusts. Elrond held Legolas’s head firmly as he pushed himself inside the wet mouth, again and again, closing his eyes when the visual stimulus became too much. They all tried to draw out the ecstasy, but they were in such bliss, inside each other as they were, that their orgasms finally began. Glorfindel was the first as he shouted loudly, pouring himself into Legolas, who pounded into Erestor’s clenching passage. Elrond watched it all and finally exploded, this time over his lover’s face.

They continued to rock gently inside each other for some time, for the sensations had been intense, and even though they had all climaxed, there was still pleasure to be had from the slick friction, from the union of their bodies, for they could get no closer than they were now.

………………………………………………………………………………..

A while later, two further sessions of steaming sex and another dip in the pool, and all four sat cross-legged, reaching for this or that delicacy, munching and chewing with relish; Elrond especially was crunching loudly on his favourite pickles, looking for all of him like a child left with the pantry door open. However, it was the deserts they engorged with particular delight and relish. Glorfindel had reached for a piece of marzipan and delicately popped it into the king’s delectable mouth. He smiled as he chewed it slowly, savouring the almond and sugar as it slowly dissolved over his tongue.

Their feast lasted many long hours. They ate slowly as they conversed on this or that topic, of their future plans and projects, until finally, the words were spent and they could eat no more, not that there was much left of anything, that is.

They lay back, or reclined against each other, enjoying a glass of liqueur. The conversation had petered out, and there was no need to force it, and so they sat pondering and contemplating, until the sky had darkened completely, the stars shining as brightly as they would this night.

Elrond lay flat on his back as he observed his father’s asterism approaching the zenith.

“Would that I could board it at will, stand at the celestial helm and look down upon this land – put things into perspective.”

Erestor looked up then, as he contemplated his lord’s words, a still embracing Legolas and Glorfindel by his side.

“If you had a particularly powerful eyeglass, you might even be able to see the valley, the elves as ants, moving here and there,” mused Erestor.

“And then, you could see things that others cannot,” said Glorfindel, as he too, stared up.

“Yet you do not need an eyeglass for that to be so, Elrond. So tell us, what do you see?” asked Legolas, now looking straight into the grey eyes of Elrond, the Lore Master.

“I see – darkness and suffering, pain and loss. I see a light of grey eyes and dark hair, like my sons, yet mortal. I see torture and desperation… light and dark, dark, then light – my visions do not define themselves – ‘tis always this swaying from good to bad, and back again – I cannot tell, Legolas – my eyeglass is cracked, my vision of the future distorted.”

“Yet there is one true thing, Elrond – Erestor, Glorfindel. And for this one thing, we need no eyeglass, no priviledged position upon the decks of the Vingilot. And this one true thing is that I love Glorfindel of Gondolin with all my Elven soul, and then you, my dark-haired lovers. That we will be together until the ending of this world I have no doubt, in soul if not in body. This I know.”

They were quickly entwined in a desperate embrace of love and fear, sorrow yet hope, for they could not have said it any better – there were no more words to be said.

Sometime later, Legolas rose from his blanket, leaving his three lovers sleeping soundly, as he made his way further into the copse, trailing his fingertips over the shrubbery as he passed. He finally came to a beautiful willow, whose boughs were so arched they fell to the ground, creating an umbrella of branch and leaf – the effect was beautiful, and so Legolas decided to sit beneath the cascade, pressing his back against the bark and greeting the elder. He would remember this place and come back to it, however far into the future that may be.

A rustle of leaves marked the arrival of another, as Legolas peered out into the night from under his leafy cave. It was Glorfindel, wandering blindly through the night, in search of him, he assumed.

“Come, my love, for I have found a place of great beauty. Share it with me?”

“I could not find you - I need you,” he whispered, as he stood there staring at the king, his shoulders slumped, his eyebrows hooded in sorrow.

“Then come, and embrace me.”

Before long, the two were entwined in a passionate embrace, until both were naked and panting. It was Legolas, however, who took the initiative, as he slid himself inside his Gondolidrim warrior, towering over him as he took him slowly, relishing every contact, every touch, every smile, gasp, moan – he watched his lover’s face as he moved inside him for the last time in many years.

Glorfindel looked up at the one who took him, his beauteous face haloed by the vibrant leaves of the willow and the sparkle of moonlight as it filtered through them – surrounding him with diamonds and emeralds – he was being loved by a God, he thought then, for no other could make him feel thus, this was his God, his Vala, his golden warrior king. He arched his back as he cried out his utter bliss, as Legolas came inside him, his tears splashing onto Glorfindel’s own, tear-stained face.

“By all the Gods, I love you so,” Legolas managed to grind out as his orgasm slammed into him. He felt Glorfindel’s hand over his cheek, as he replied.

“For always, Legolas – you and I.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

The evening had been perfect, for no one had disturbed them. They had swam and dived, splashed and played, laughed and wrestled, made love, kissed, talked, reminisced, promised and vowed to see each other again soon, that they would not get themselves killed or maimed, that they would stay strong and not succumb to sorrow or shadow.

They looked so peaceful, so innocent, she thought. Woe that their destiny was so harsh, would be so demanding on these, her favourite elves, those that would shape the course of history not too far into the future.

And how beautifully her protégé shone – for he was content, and of that she was glad. Yet the pang of regret she felt every time his destiny came into her mind’s eye was willing her to concede a boon, should he emerge victorious.

“Legolas.”

…………………………………………………………………………..

How happy he felt at that moment, lost in reverie as he was. Yet his mind wandered the memories that the evening had yielded – those wonderful moments of happiness, of bliss, ecstasy and friendship. Would it be like this in the undying lands? Would he make it there? Or would he perish on the battle field? That he could not say, yet if he could perpetuate these moments and make a life of them, how wonderful it was to be immortal.

He was tired, so tired, and so he left his pleasant ponderings and surrendered himself to deep sleep, encircled in Glorfindel’s powerful, protective embrace.

‘When all is done, a present shall be gifted. For the light that is sundered may return to its source, should friendship prevail.’

He awoke with a start, the words lingering in his mind as he struggled for rational thought, his mind grappling for the words that would not, quite, materialize.

……………………………………………………………………………..
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The Protege V: Harvest