Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6473 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
Chapter V

The Grey Havens, Lindon

Nimeithel looked up at the stars from the balcony outside the guest chamber she shared with Elladan. The elenath seemed much more brilliant out here by the ocean. And the air was bracing in its salty freshness. She no longer wondered about Legolas’ sea-longing.

It had awakened in her as well though not so strong as to overcome her love for Middle-earth. She did not wish to forsake these lands just yet and certainly would not enjoin her husband to do so in the near future. But when the time came, she would not be so reluctant either.

Aman beckoned and, eventually, she would heed its call.

She smiled as two strong arms snaked around her and pulled her against her spouse’s powerful frame. She half-turned her face, pressing her cheek against Elladan’s shoulder.

“Happy, melethril?”—lover—he murmured against her fragrant hair.

“Very,” she softly replied. “Though I miss our sons.”

“As do I,” he admitted. “But I do not regret this reprieve.” He leaned down and stole a kiss from her. “I sorely missed having you to myself.”

Nimeithel looked back at him and beamed tenderly. “We still have a few days, Eledhiren”—my Elvenlord—she pointed out suggestively.

Blue grey eyes glittered darkly. “And nights,” he said huskily. “Come, wife, let us make good use of them. Though, I suggest you keep your pretty hands to yourself for now,” he added rakishly. “Grandfather and Círdan could use at least one decent night’s sleep before we depart.”

Nimeithel laughed as he insistently pulled her back into their room.

********

The Last Homely House, Imladris

Elendir and Elros strove to behave themselves after so traumatic a scolding. For the longest while, there were no irate Elves complaining about being doused, tripped or hoodwinked by the twins providing their uncles with a welcome respite. Nor were the healing chambers graced with their presence for a time much to the healers’ collective relief.

Until they poured a harmless but long-lasting dye into the hobbits’ baths that gave rise to the phrase “little green men.”

And personalized the ancient prank of a bucket of liquid atop a door by substituting rich cream for insipid water, thereby leaving poor Ailios fit to be churned.

And mixed a copious amount of salt into the batter for a cake Iorwen served to a rather pompous Elf-messenger from Greenwood.

And had half the barracks of Imladris up in arms over their watered down, honeyed up ale.

And locked the usually forbearing Lindir in the supplies pantry with the arrogant advisor, Merenwë, whom the steward utterly detested, which almost resulted in another case of kinslaying had Legolas not heard their scuffling within the confined space.

And dared to braid and beribbon Gimli’s beard while he dozed on the lounging chair in the garden porch.

“It did not last, did it,” Elrohir wryly remarked to his mate.

“It was too much to hope for,” Legolas agreed.

From the wide window of the study, they watched with equal parts amusement and resignation the spectacle of their nephews scrambling up a tree in the garden like a pair of cats with a snarling cur snapping at their tails. Down below, an axe-bearing Dwarf, strips of bright colored silk still entangled in his not quite unraveled beard, sat to vengefully wait them out. What he planned to do once they clambered down, neither Elf-uncle knew. But it didn’t bode well for the youngsters’ tender rumps if Gimli’s constant flexing of his right hand was any indication of what he had in mind for them.

Legolas sighed. A Dwarf with a festively garnished beard was no lovely sight; he could not blame Gimli for wanting to give the twins a hearty spanking. Well, Elladan and Nimeithel would soon be home. Their arrival would not by any means bring their sons’ antics to a halt but, at least, he and Elrohir would not have to take the brunt of their victims’ charges any longer.

Not to mention bear with the constant interruptions that had so plagued their private time together. Much heartened by that prospect, he reached down and squeezed the Elf-knight’s firm backside, prompting his spouse to yelp in acute startlement.

********

“They are here!” Elendir cried out. He raced out followed by his brother as the graceful steeds cantered into the courtyard of the Last Homely House.

A moment later the brethren were nestled in the loving embraces of their well-rested parents. Celeborn, however, did not look as refreshed. Elrohir eyed his grandsire wonderingly as he hugged him in welcome.

“Are you well, my lord?” he inquired solicitously.

Celeborn snorted. “As well as is possible under the circumstances.” He raised a jaundiced eyebrow at Elladan. “Your brother is astonishingly vocal in bed-play. I warrant the noise would be enough to wake up all the dead in Arda! Thank Eru that Círdan agreed to transfer me to the other side of his house. Though ‘twas too late to prevent him from recalling my own youthful folly and remarking on it without cease.”

While Elrohir stared at the Elvenlord in puzzlement, Elladan flushed a deep scarlet. But Nimeithel giggled merrily much to her law-brother and sons’ surprise. Legolas grinned and upon bestowing a welcoming kiss on her cheek, said: “I take it you learned your lesson well, muinthel?”—sister?

His sister smiled mischievously. “Too well it would seem, judging from Círdan’s relief when we left,” she laughed. “Thank you, tôr iaur.”— older brother.

As they walked into the house, Elrohir looked questioningly at the prince. “What did she thank you for?” he murmured.

Legolas chuckled. “Later, meleth.”—love. “‘Tis not a matter fit for Elflings’ ears,” he said, indicating their nephews. “As well as innocent hobbits,” he added as Merry and Pippin greeted the newly arrived Elves.

Hardly had Elladan and Nimeithel settled down when they were besieged by a host of complainants starting with one gruff Dwarf and two indignant and startlingly verdant Halflings. Iorwen, Ailios and Merenwë soon weighed in with their grievances and Lindir had to bite his lip to keep from airing his so precipitately.

“And that is just the household,” Elrohir informed his brother. “I believe the warriors have a thing or two to say about the gwenyn”— twins—“as well.”

Elladan rolled his eyes. “You and Legolas were supposed to keep watch over them,” he reminded the other.

Elrohir snorted. “When Legolas and I grow eyes on the back of our heads, come back then and reprove us for negligence.” At his brother’s pained grimace, he pointed out, “At least you found some rest this summer. I cannot say the same for the rest of us!”

They paused in their conversation when the twins suddenly ran up to Elladan and hugged him around the waist anxiously. The older pair stared down at the younger in perplexity then looked up at the others.

Legolas was striving mightily not to laugh while Nimeithel looked torn between sympathy and satisfaction. Celeborn, however, had trained upon his great-grandsons a most fearsome stare.

“Sire?” Elladan looked at him curiously.

“I believe I would like to spend some time with your younglings, gwaniuar”—older twin—Celeborn said. “This autumn and winter should do nicely.”

Elladan blinked. “Exactly what do you mean, Grandfather?” he said.

Celeborn shrugged. “I have just realized that I have not spent much time with the pin nith.”—young ones. “I would like to rectify this oversight and take them under my wing for two seasons. And off your hands.”

The brethren stared at him in amazement. Why would anyone want to take charge of Elladan’s twin gales?

“You are brave, sire,” Elrohir commented.

“Nay, I am only being practical,” Celeborn rejoined. “I would rather have your brother well-rested in Imladris than ever ask him to join me again in Mithlond or anywhere else. Particularly if we must live in the same house! I refuse to endure any more comments as I had to take from Círdan for two whole months.” When Elrohir opened his mouth to ask him for more clarification, he quickly preempted his younger grandson. “Ai, gwanneth”—younger twin—“ask your Legolas for my reasons. He obviously knows enough to enlighten you. Well, Elladan, will you accept my offer or not?”

Elladan gaped at him then looked down at his quavering sons. He could understand their nervousness. Celeborn was a loving Elf but could be stern when he needed to be. And when he was, he was positively intimidating. To young Elves who had not had the opportunity to keep frequent company with him, that translated into terrifying.

He glanced at Elrohir. Noted the heated look he exchanged with Legolas. He caught his twin’s eye and winked at him. Elrond’s sons smiled at each other.

Elladan’s sons did not. “Adar!!!”

*********

Silver light peeked through the veiled windows as Ithil slowly made her ascent into the late evening sky. But to Legolas, her soft glow was no match for the luminosity of his moonlit knight. He let out a shuddery breath as Elrohir delved deeply into him, every thrust of his hot, proud length driving him ever closer to utmost rapture.

In the throes of passion, Elrohir was ever more beautiful to behold. That only he had the privilege and the right to see the warrior thusly was a gift the woodland prince never took for granted. He gazed as if entranced at his mate as the other moved with exquisite mastery above him, owning him as no other had or ever would. Silvery eyes limned in lust, sinuous lips plundering fair flesh, creamy skin glistening with the faintest sheen of moisture, he repeatedly speared his golden spouse to the silken core of his being.

He caught Legolas’ wrists, guided them above his head and pinned them there with one powerful hand. With the other, he reached between them and began to stroke the turgid column that prodded his tight belly. He had earlier ravaged the luscious flesh, supped of the opulent cream of his mate’s resulting pleasure, then caressed him to renewed arousal. Now he fondled his writhing prince, teased the roseate buds on his chest, pillaged his searching mouth. Yet he denied him the freedom to move as he pleased, the maddening constrainment heightening the archer’s bliss.

Legolas tried to hold back a moan; failed as ardent lips enclosed an aching nipple and drew upon it until he cried out. He tried to free his hands but Elrohir held them fast. And all the while, he was steadily stroked and headily breached until he was raggedly sobbing in excruciating delight. He attempted to speak but found he could no longer give coherent voice to his longing.

Finish it, Aduial! I beg of you!

Elrohir’s eyes gleamed ever darker at this sign of his beloved’s imminent undoing. Their mutual pleasure mingled and flowed and washed over them with storm-force. It was too much for the archer.

Shaking helplessly, Legolas keened as completion overtook him, tears streaming down his cheeks at the indescribable rapture of his release. His wrists were abruptly freed and he desperately clung to Elrohir as the warrior buried himself to the hilt and spent himself explosively within his golden spouse. One word alone burst from Elrohir’s lips. One lone name.

He shuddered and nearly collapsed onto his mate. Still trembling, Legolas held him fast, refusing to let him sever the connection between them either of body or spirit. He cupped his Elf-knight’s face and kissed him fervently, ever hungry for his love, for his loving. Elrohir fed his hunger, giving of himself, of his heart and spirit, to sate his prince’s still scarcely abated need. An always welcome need.

He was about to utter an endearment when something crashed against their door. No, make that two things. Elflings on the cusp of adolescence to be precise.

Legolas stared in consternation at the door, expecting it to burst wide open and reveal them as bare as the day they were born and in this most indecent of poses. But though the insistent pounding on the other side continued, the door did not yield.

“I bolted it,” Elrohir whispered with a grin.

“I should have remembered that,” Legolas softly said with a smile.

“Elros! Elendir! To bed, both of you!”

A doleful groan was followed by a dolorous reply. “Aye, Grandfather.”

The Elven prince and the Elf-knight listened with amusement as two pairs of feet shuffled away from the door. They burst out laughing at the thought of their incorrigible nephews so summarily tamed by their silver-crowned forefather.

“How long will this last?” Legolas purred, nibbling at Elrohir’s throat.

Elrohir groaned at the tantalizing nips. “Until they realize that Grandfather is a tender-heart,” he chuckled breathily. “The moment they shed tears, he will be revealed and our peace will be at an end.”

“Mayhap they won’t find out until spring,” Legolas murmured, pressing upwards to slide his sleek shaft against his bereth’s—spouse’s—swiftly reawakening length.

“Mayhap.” Elrohir’s argent gaze evolved into molten mithril. “So eager anon, Calenlass?”

“What do you think?” the archer crooned. And he drew the warrior once more into his body’s deep embrace.

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

Glossary:

elenath - starry host

Ithil - the moon

Aduial - Twilight

Calenlass – Greenleaf

The End
- 4
- 5
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

Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble