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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Part VI

It was late and all was silent in the Last Homely House but Elrohir could not sleep. Seeking solace he rose from his bed and stepped out onto his balcony. Stealing a glance to his left, he espied the flickering light shining through the window of the bedchamber just three doors from his. It seemed sleep also eluded his friend.

Nay, he could no longer address the Mirkwood prince as that. He had forfeited the privilege to do so that mad afternoon in the woods south of the Ered Mithrin. He resolutely turned his eyes back to the view before him.

He stared at the darkened landscape, then gazed up at the stars. But he could find no peace. All he could feel was the dreadful weight in his heart that refused to diminish but only seemed to grow ever heavier with each passing day.

It was now more than a month since he’d last spoken with Legolas. More than a month since he’d sworn never to trouble the Sindarin archer with his presence again. It had been the bleakest period he had ever yet experienced. As always, in times of grief and trouble, his mortal half beckoned temptingly. More than ever he felt the lure of Men’s brief existence; hearkened to the promise of an end to sorrow and suffering that was not permitted the Firstborn.

Wearily, he laid his elbows on the balustrade and raised his hands to cover his face. Several minutes ticked by before he sensed that he was not alone. Warily, he lifted his head and turned to see who the intruder was. He was taken aback to see Legolas at the other end of the balcony, leaning against the balustrade. He straightened up.

“How—?” he started to ask. Then he saw the overhanging branches of the tree by the balcony and realized how the prince had made his way there. “You climbed from your room?” he asked in disbelief.

Legolas shrugged. “As you once told me, it is more discreet this way.” He approached Elrohir. “You have been keeping to yourself,” he said.

Elrohir averted his eyes. “I promised you that I would stay away.”

“I do not recall accepting your offer,” Legolas softly pointed out.

Elrohir turned back and stared at him. “Why are you here?” he asked. “Why seek me out when you must despise me so?”

“Despise you?” Legolas sighed. “I could never despise you, Elrohir.”

“You should. I wronged you terribly.”

“I do not dwell on it. I only know that I have missed your company these many weeks.”

Elrohir gazed at him in surprise. “Why should you miss me?” he choked. “I caused you so much pain.”

Legolas returned his gaze, his eyes sad and troubled. “Because you are still the dearest of all whom I hold dear,” he whispered.

The gently spoken words took Elrohir’s breath away. Tears stung his eyes. They were like a balm to his wounded heart. And coming as they did all unexpectedly, they were a gift to his soul. He closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling, his warrior’s pride refusing to let him weep in front of his friend. Still his guilt and shame did not completely abate.

“I do not deserve you,” he said brokenly.

Legolas pulled him into a heartfelt embrace. “Hush, do not say that,” he murmured.

Elrohir held him tightly, buried his face in the crook of his neck. He did not know how long they remained thus. He only knew that he felt at peace, as he had not in a long time. One thing only was missing.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered.

“There is nothing to forgive. I only want us to be friends again.”

Elrohir pulled away. “That is what I wish, too. To be as we were before I desired you.” He looked away, his eyes pensive. “I regret now that you ever found out how I felt.”

“Why should you have regrets when I do not?” Legolas said.

Elrohir could not help looking at him curiously. “You are as kind as you are mettlesome,” he quietly remarked. “Others would not have been so accepting.” He paused. “You should have fought me in the woods, Legolas,” he finally said. “Why didn’t you?”

The prince hesitated. “You needed me,” he finally replied.

“Sirgon needed you and he was your friend as well.”

“But not as close to my heart as you.”

Elrohir turned his dark gaze on him. He was filled with great wonder that he should have ever gained so much loyalty and love from anyone who was not his kin. He noticed the bruise on Legolas’ mouth, faint but still discernible. Strange, it should have disappeared by now.

He reached out and regretfully ran his thumb over it. To his relief, Legolas leaned into his touch, a small smile gracing his lips. The twin suddenly felt a great urge to kiss the bruise away.

He put his thought into action but as lightly as possible, barely brushing his lips against the fading mark. He had no intention of asking anything more from Legolas. The other had already given him too much. But Legolas turned his face and their lips touched.

He drew back, startled. Their faces were just inches away. Elrohir felt the change in his body, knew that desire was upon him once more.

“I think you had better leave, Calenlass,” he whispered. “I do not wish to hurt you again.”

Sapphire eyes glittered in the dim light. “Nay, I do not wish to leave,” the prince murmured.

Elrohir stared at him but the other’s gaze did not falter. The dark-haired Elf gave up and closed the gap between them. He strove to be gentle and undemanding; he did not want a repeat of the transgression he had committed against his friend. But he was all undone when Legolas responded with alacrity, his lips opening under his.

Groaning inwardly, he deepened the kiss, pulling Legolas flush against him. Surprise awaited him when both kiss and embrace were fully returned. All the times the prince had yielded to him there had always been an element of restraint on his part. He had always been pliant and cooperative, nothing more, and Elrohir had been content.

This was different. There was far more than pliancy here. He trailed kisses along the prince’s finely chiseled jaw, drifted down to the smooth column of his throat. He heard the soft intake of breath, felt the tremor that passed through the slender, muscular body in his arms. He was astonished when he felt Legolas press against him in active pleasure.

His passion flared, desire deepened. When he released Legolas it was not to free him but to lead him into his room. No words were spoken as they peeled away each other’s raiment; there was no need for any. Even when they came together upon the bed, they still said nothing. Words were superfluous in this moment of reconciliation. Action said everything.

Yielding once more to the Elf-knight, Legolas reveled in this coupling as much as he had recoiled from the last. Making up for his previous brutality, Elrohir lavished upon him all the tender passion and fervent loving in his being. He repeatedly brought the prince to the highest peaks of pleasure and the greatest depths of passion, seeking to erase the shame and violence of their earlier encounter.

He had Legolas moaning helplessly as he made his way down the archer’s lean form, kissing, laving and caressing virtually every inch of flesh along the way; had him clawing at the sheets beneath him as he skillfully drew upon his swollen shaft, voraciously taking tiny draughts of sweet-salty cream with each suckle until the prince, hips wildly bucking in purest rapture, spent himself in full. Lying dazedly upon the rumpled sheets, Legolas blushed as he watched Elrohir luxuriate in the opulent mouthful before downing it, smiling in sheer bliss as he did so.

When their bodies joined at last, it proved a most felicitous experience as the archer dared to unleash what he had long kept secret from the Elf-knight. Their wondrous forms melded in a coupling more ardent than any they had yet shared, their ecstasy greater than in all their previous unions. Afterwards, they lay together, drained and thoroughly sated, Legolas nestled comfortably in Elrohir’s protective embrace. Still they did not speak. Words were for the morrow in the full light of day. For now, they let sleep overcome them, their spent bodies sinking into the peace of restful repose.

*******

Bathed in the cool light of early morning, Elrohir curiously watched Legolas as the latter dressed. More surprises had been sprung on him last night. He wondered about them.

For one he had awakened to find Legolas still beside him. During that entire fateful week in Mirkwood, never had the prince remained in bed with him past daybreak. If the night had been passed in his chamber, he had invariably risen, dressed and waited until Elrohir woke up. And though he had twice gone to Elrohir’s room he had left it when dawn came. That had not changed that time in Rivendell when the archer had comforted the twin in his sorrow.

Elrohir had understood. What Legolas did for him was out of love for a friend. But he had neatly separated his two functions of boon companion and lover, never melding the two together. Leaving Elrohir’s side as soon as the sun rose had been a way of keeping that dichotomy intact.

So why did he not leave me now?

Elrohir did not deny that it had filled him with delight and contentment to find him there. To reach over and gather him against his tall frame and wait for him to awaken. And when he had, Legolas had not pulled away and risen from the bed but had lain there awhile until his drowsiness had passed.

As for the other surprise… He involuntarily shivered at the memory of powerful legs locked fiercely around his waist, flexing unexpectedly to draw him ever more deeply into the heated confines of the prince’s supple form. Legolas’ needful, urgent response had shaken him to the core even as it had spurred him into explosive release bare seconds after the archer found his.

“Legolas?”

“Hm?”

“There is something I do not understand.” The archer looked up at him and raised a golden eyebrow, waiting for his question. “Last night, you were...different,” Elrohir said somewhat hesitantly.

“How was I different?”

“I know that when you lie with me ‘tis out of friendship. I do not resent that. ‘Tis natural for you not to want anything more than whatever pleasure I give you. But last night…” He paused. Legolas had gone still, was looking at him, his eyes unreadable. “Last night, ‘twas as if you…” He could not continue for his idea seemed so absurd it did not bear saying.

“As if I desired it,” Legolas finished for him. He drew a deep breath. “I did.”

Elrohir stared at him nonplussed. “But you are no lover of males,” he said incredulously.

Legolas considered the matter then gravely said: "'Tis true, I care not for the love of ellyn”—male Elves—“do not crave the touch of any. Save yours.” He smiled a little at Elrohir’s expression. “Remember what you once said about love and desire having no rational reason for being and that the rules of attraction apply to everyone?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“I understand now what you meant. If I find pleasure in what we do and should even now desire it, ‘tis because I share it with you. I feel nothing with other ellyn.” He paused, searching for the right words. At last he admitted: “You draw me as others do not.”

Elrohir could only stare at him, a blistering mix of emotions stirring within him. In that moment, he knew his love for Legolas had deepened beyond redemption of any kind. There would be no going back for him, no assuaging of the fire that consumed him. Not even in the beds of the most comely maids of Arda would he ever find more than brief respite from his passion. And as for lying with another ellon...even the mere thought was abhorrent if that ellon was not he whom he loved; he had not bedded another since claiming the Mirkwood prince all those centuries ago. But he also knew he could not voice this truth just yet.

He had thought to confess his love to his friend now that they were reconciled and closer than ever. The temptation had grown stronger in the wake of Legolas’ surprisingly passionate response to him during their coupling. But the archer’s palpably reluctant admission made him reconsider.

Legolas may have discovered that he enjoyed yielding his body to Elrohir but the heart was a completely different thing. Elrohir did not wish to lose the trust and affection the Wood-elf held for him and he instinctively discerned that both would be significantly diminished should Legolas discover the depths of his feelings for him. The prince simply was not prepared for yet another earth-shaking revelation from one he deemed dearest of all his friends.

Elrohir wondered if he would ever be permitted the relief of an admission to Legolas. Not that it would change anything. Whether blessing or doom, his heart was given. It was Legolas’ to do with as he wished whether he one day accepted it or never. He fully understood as so very few did the real nature of true love.

He became aware of the archer’s curious regard; realized something of his feelings must have shown on his mien and would lead the archer to think him troubled anew. He moved to allay his friend’s budding anxiety.

“Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?” he asked, carefully keeping his tone much lighter than he actually felt.

Legolas smiled, his incipient perturbation dissipating. “Always,” he replied beamingly. “And I shall never tire of hearing it.”

Elrohir noticed then that the fading bruise by his mouth had completely vanished. It seemed he had not been the only one in need of healing.

The wailing of a child suddenly pierced the early morning quiet.

“Elbereth! ‘Tis Estel!” Elrohir exclaimed, recalling that Gilraen occasionally indulged herself in early morning strolls while her son still slept. “He must be alone.”

Legolas grinned. “Then you had best go to him before he rouses all of Imladris,” he suggested. “And I think I should return to my own room. Discreetly,” he added.

With a wink at Elrohir he walked out to the balcony and vanished into the branches of the tree outside. Elrohir chuckled and set off to appease the crying child.

To be continued…
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Greenleaf & Imladris 14 - Crucible of Love