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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4275 -:- 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.

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Chapter V: Knight’s Desire

Legolas looked out at the forest beyond his windows and breathed in the sweet herb-scented air. The dryadic loveliness of Ithilien had waxed with the arrival of the Elves and the forests flourished under their care. In turn, the woods nourished the Elves and brought them respite from weariness and grief. The archer sighed. If only he could find relief from his inner turmoil.

He sensed a new presence and turned. Elrohir had entered his bedchamber.

The twin looked about the room with a smile, delighting in the way it seemed almost part of the oak around which the dwelling had been built. It was also smaller and cozier than Legolas’ quarters in his father’s halls.

“‘Tis not quite as large as your room in Greenwood,” he remarked.

“I like it well enough,” Legolas replied briefly.

Elrohir glanced at him and smiled. Legolas was not certain what to make of that smile. “I just realized,” the other said, “I have never been in this room before.”

Legolas lifted his chin a little challengingly. “You never had a reason to be here before.”

Elrohir’s smile changed; it no longer reached his eyes. “I do now,” he said with ominous softness.

Legolas felt his muscles tense. He had not wanted to confront Elrohir tonight. Yet he’d known something might happen after what occurred after the dance. He tried to clear his mind but it was difficult to think lucidly when the sudden pounding of his heart drowned out everything else.

Elrohir seemed to sense his tension. He gazed at the prince and then, slowly and deliberately, raked his form with his eyes. He did not attempt to hide his appreciation of what he saw nor did he veil the desire he felt.

More than ever, Legolas felt like a stag that had been trapped in a hunt.

He was clad in naught but a thin bed-shirt and trousers and the raiment did nothing to conceal the hard planes and symmetrical contours of his slender frame. His hair hung loose, unbraided, like a gleaming waterfall of silver and gold. Under Elrohir’s predatory gaze, he suddenly felt vulnerable as he had never felt even when he fought Mordor’s forces before the Black Gate.

You will be mine, Legolas. I think you know that.

Legolas caught his breath as the words came back to him. He turned away and stared out the window and found himself contemplating escape though the opening. But he realized that doing so would not stop the inevitable confrontation; it would only merely postpone it or, worse, impel Elrohir to pursue him, something that might very well rouse the warrior’s ire and impulsiveness, a lethal combination.

Elbereth only knew what the twin would do once he caught him and Legolas was certain he would for Elrohir was one of the most fleet-footed Elves ever to grace Middle-earth. He knew his friend well enough to fear that the darkling Elf might simply throw prudence to the wind and take him right in the clearing, unheeding of watching eyes or listening ears. Better to face Elrohir now in the privacy of his chamber.

As if reading the prince’s thoughts, the twin closed the door. Legolas heard the rarely used bolt slide into place. His shoulders visibly stiffened. Elrohir had bolted the door not so much to keep others from entering the chamber but to hinder any other attempts of the prince to flee. Paralyzed by his nervousness, the archer could not bring himself to turn around as the other Elf approached him.

Elrohir stood behind Legolas, his body closer than was comfortable for the prince. “I have missed seeing your hair loose like this,” he remarked. He reached out and tucked a shining strand behind a shapely ear. It was silky to the touch, almost elusively so.

Legolas moved his head slightly away. He would not admit it but he found Elrohir’s touch disturbing both to his senses and his thoughts.

“Avo,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. Don’t.

Elrohir’s lips formed a small knowing smile; he perceived that the prince was affected by his proximity.

“Avo man?” he countered. Don’t what?

Legolas threw a cautious glance at him. He found himself at a loss for words. What was it that he wanted Elrohir not to do? Not to touch him? Not to look at him in that discomforting way? He’d always been in command of himself, never giving away more than he desired, aloof and unattainable. Not even Aragorn had probed the innermost recesses of his heart and soul. Only the twins had truly known him though within the bounds of their millennia-long friendship, of course. But now Elrohir had stepped beyond those bounds once more, this time for good. If he elicited what he sought from Legolas it would not be for the here and now but for all eternity.

“Do you fear me?” It was more a statement than a question.

Legolas turned to face him warily. Elrohir was taller by an inch or so and his frame more solid. And they were fairly matched in strength for though Elrohir had Edain blood in his veins, he counted the ancient Kings of Doriath and Gondolin among his forebears and the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood besides.

“A little. You are not the Elrohir I knew.”

“We all change to one degree or another.”

“I would that you had not changed so much.”

“You would have me remain unaltered like unfeeling marble or stone?”

“Nay, but I would have you remain as I knew you. My best friend. Elladan’s beloved twin.” He hesitated. “Aragorn’s trusted kinsman.”

Elrohir’s eyes flashed warningly. “Estel again,” he remarked acidly. “I will not be his brother in your eyes. I will be Elrohir and no other.”

“I was not comparing you to him,” Legolas said. “I promised you that I would not. But I do wonder why you pursue me now.” At Elrohir’s puzzled expression, he said: “You have been bitter of late whenever I speak of him. Are you sure your desire for me is not simply because of what I felt for him?”

Elrohir laughed shortly. “If that were the case then I would not be here at all. I care not for Estel’s leavings.”

Legolas’s eyes turned glacial. “I am no plaything to be discarded at will by anyone, man or woman,” he said icily. “What I do, I do of my own free will. I am nobody’s leavings.”

Elrohir gazed at him. “Nay, you are not,” he murmured. “Despite all your years of life and the lovers you have known you are still quite untouched, malthernilen.”—my golden prince.

Legolas eyes’ widened. The iciness within them faded to be replaced with uncertainty once more.

“I do not seek to be Estel’s rival for a place in your heart,” Elrohir said. “Nay, what I seek is to supplant him. I want you to be wholly mine and nobody else’s.”

Legolas sucked in his breath. He had never known such depths of feeling could exist. He had to admit, it frightened him. To willingly give of one’s self so completely and hold nothing back was something he had never done for anyone. Now, Elrohir not only wanted it, he was intent on getting it.

“Elrohir,” he said shakily, “Do not ask of me what I cannot give.”

“I do not but I will take what you can give.” He suddenly moved forward.

Reflexively, Legolas stepped back and found himself against the wall. Before he could move again, Elrohir was upon him.

The twin pushed the prince by his shoulders flush against the wall. He was not rough but neither was he gentle. He ignored the sudden hiss of breath Legolas let out at such handling and instead reached up with one hand to cup the prince’s sculpted jaw.

“I thought you could not be more beautiful than you were on the day of Eldarion’s betrothal,” he said silkily. “I was wrong.”

Legolas gasped as Elrohir kissed him full on the mouth. His first impulse was to fight and flee but the other anticipated this and grasped his wrists to hinder him. Bringing to bear all the power of the Eldarin blood flowing in his veins he trapped Legolas against the wall and kept him there.

Shock put Legolas at a disadvantage. He had always known the other’s strength but he had forgotten that passion and singular desire would impart to him more than enough force to subdue a fellow warrior.

Memory slowed him down and made him susceptible to Elrohir’s demands. His lips were compelled to part and accept the other’s onslaught. Again the familiar wild thrill swept through his veins. Pleasure coursed through his limbs and cascaded over his body as it had in all their previous encounters.

Reaction stripped him of resistance. He could summon neither the strength nor the will to stop the other. Elrohir plundered his mouth and he could do nothing. And a heady, heated sensation akin to liquid fire enveloped him like a glove. It forced a sound of unmistakable pleasure from him.

Elrohir drew away as suddenly as he had initiated the kiss. They were both breathless from the contact. Legolas stared at the warrior, his eyes wide with conflict.

“You cannot deny that you enjoyed that,” Elrohir said with just a hint of a challenge in his tone. “More than you did when you last yielded to me.”

Legolas averted his gaze. “This is not right,” he murmured agitatedly.

“Why? ‘Tis not as if you have never done this before.”

“‘Twas different then.”

“How was it different?”

Legolas drew in a shaky breath. “‘Twas out of friendship. I wanted to help you.”

Elrohir laughed softly. “You certainly helped me. I would not have minded being helped that way these past many years.”

Legolas glared at him in exasperation for a second before turning his eyes away once more. “You know what I mean!” he said. “Elrohir, we have been the closest of friends for most of an age. ‘Tis difficult to see you as anything but that. My yielding to you was for our friendship’s sake, nothing more.”

“Yet you told me once that I alone could make you feel pleasure in a man’s touch.”

Legolas felt his cheeks color. He had forgotten his words to Elrohir the last time they had lain together.

“You knew desire even then, Legolas,” Elrohir softly said. “And you say you knew it with Estel though you could not act upon it. But I am bound to no other and I love you with all my being. Can you not lay our past to rest and look to the future? Or are you afraid to look because of what it can mean to both of us?”

Legolas let out his breath. “Mayhap,” he whispered.

“Look at me now,” Elrohir said. “What do you see, Calenlass? What do you feel?

Reluctantly Legolas turned his gaze upon Elrohir. He swallowed hard as he studied the fair countenance before him. Scion of the Eldar and Edain and Maiar, Elrohir was one of the comeliest of the Firstborn. Legolas had never denied the darkling Elf’s beauty and had even anchored himself on it when he first submitted to the other’s need for him. It had been the means by which he had initially endured their unlikely intimacy, and then learned to find pleasure in it. That beauty now pulled him. He could not ignore what the other’s touch awakened in him.

Elrohir saw the change in the blue eyes, the easing of tension in the finely wrought mouth. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss upon now pliant lips. Legolas shuddered at the tenderness of the caress. Of their own volition, his hands snaked around the twin’s waist.

The prince trembled. His body betrayed him. It responded to Elrohir all too readily. He had no control whatsoever over his reactions, the way his nerves sang like the strings of a harp when stroked by a master musician.

Like the onrushing flow of a raging river the pleasure swept through his veins. He could not help responding and the more he responded the more Elrohir gave back until they were both breathing raggedly.

Valar! His kisses are more potent than I remember! Legolas dazedly thought.

The sound of fabric rending startled him out of his haze. He jerked back to find his shirt torn nearly halfway down the front. Elrohir ignored his shocked expression and simply finished ripping the material, leaving the shirt open to its hem.

“What are you doing?” Legolas gasped.

“It will take forever to pull it over your head,” came the matter-of-fact answer. “I am not about to give you time to change your mind.”

He took the archer by the wrist and pulled him purposely to the bed.

“You are impatient, Elrondion!”—son of Elrond!—Legolas protested.

With a sudden movement, Elrohir spun Legolas around and compelled him to move backward. The edge of the bed caught at the back of the archer’s knees and he fell upon the mattress. Elrohir swiftly followed him down.

“I am done with waiting!” Elrohir retorted.

Legolas found himself torn between amusement at the other’s keenness and apprehension at what was to come. “I hope we won’t regret this,” he said under his breath.

“We won’t, I promise you,” Elrohir murmured.

Before the prince could speak once more, he was silenced by another kiss, so deep and passionate that all sentient thought fled. Legolas gave up any notions of further resistance and yielded to his war-brother’s desire.

Their garments were divested with rapid precision. A pair of silvery eyes swiftly studied his body anew, dwelling on his groin with a dark gleam that made him catch his breath and made him feel butterflies in his belly not felt since his adolescence. Not even the prospect of facing Sauron’s hordes had unnerved him this deeply or easily. One glimpse of the Elf-knight’s formidable length increased the fluttering sensation and he chided himself for looking at all.

He succumbed swiftly to Elrohir’s sensual onslaught, astounded anew by how well the twin knew his body. He had lain with many an Elf-maid since their first coupling but none had ever brought him to such peaks of pleasure as Elrohir did with seeming ease. And he had never been tempted to sample the attractions of another male Edhel. Only the Elf-knight roused that latent desire in him and stoked it with such enthralling skill that he made all the prince’s past affairs pale in comparison. Tonight was no exception.

With long-honed ability, bold Imladris tamed, seduced, conquered anew the sacred core of primal Greenwood.

Elrohir was not merely a skilled lover, he was a consummate one. But the talent came not only from lengthy experience but also the twin’s sensitivity to his partners’ needs. Legolas had never heard less than glowing assessments of the Elf-lord’s abilities and when those same abilities had first been turned on him, he’d had to concede that the compliments were not exaggerated.

Hands knowingly mapped his body, lips mercilessly teased his flesh; even whispered words inflamed his senses in their sheer eroticism – the warrior wielded as many weapons off the battlefield as on. Elrohir took his time pleasuring him, seeking the places that responded to his touch, bringing him repeatedly to the brink of completion then pulling back to prolong the sweet torture. Before long, the archer’s whole being was alive with exquisite sensation.

Legolas gasped when Elrohir finally took him into his mouth, fondling him with lips and tongue until he was groaning and bucking his hips needfully. Incoherent words and meaningless sounds spilled from his lips as the pleasure mounted and peaked; he felt he could no longer endure it and still stay sane. Sensing that he was near the end of his forbearance, the twin adroitly delivered him into shattering release.

The tumult of completion left him nearly winded. He lay still, breathing hard and unevenly. The mattress dipped as Elrohir crept up to lie beside him, one arm curling around him possessively.

At his touch, Legolas felt a slow fire blister its way through his nerves. Desire flaring in his veins, he languidly turned to face the warrior, blue eyes deepening to indigo, and pressed his lips to the other’s mouth, eliciting a low thrilling moan. He reached behind and unbraided the thick single plait that held back Elrohir’s mane then ran his fingers through the sable locks, luxuriating in the satin softness of it.

Two millennia ago, when he’d first shared his bed with Elrohir, he had been for the most part, a passive partner. Despite the pleasure he had experienced, it had been too new to him, too different from what he had known. But the last time they’d lain together just over a century past, he’d taken a more active role, his passion awakened by Elrohir’s peerless loving. Now, in rediscovering the twin’s singular effect on him, he felt a burning need to give as well as take. Letting his hands roam, he touched and stroked the darkling Elf until the latter’s body thrummed with pleasure. He watched the twilight eyes darken dangerously and felt a thrill of anticipation shoot up his spine.

His actions had indeed astonished Elrohir and filled him with delight though he sensed that Legolas withheld a part of himself. The Elf-knight did not resent this emotional reticence. He knew his Greenleaf all too well. It was the prince’s way of protecting himself from heartbreak and the anguish that inevitably followed. For Elrohir, it was enough that Legolas yielded to him once more; their renewed intimacy a gift he treasured. And the reciprocation of his attentions served to deepen his love and desire, evident as he renewed his assault upon the other’s senses.

He surprised the archer by urging him onto his stomach. It was a new experience for Legolas, to be unable to see his lover, to only feel what the other was doing to him.

He caught his breath as Elrohir covered him with his own body, bracing himself on either side of the archer’s torso with his powerful arms. He shivered deliciously as the entire lengths of their graceful frames molded together and warm kisses and shallow bites were teasingly administered to his nape and shoulders and the skin just behind his ears, a newly discovered spot highly sensitive to the twin’s caresses. He moaned as the twin’s lips wandered down his back, exploring, tasting, nibbling, all the way to the taut mounds of his rear. Before long he was gasping with every swipe and thrust of Elrohir’s tongue.

By the time Elrohir crept up his full length once more, Legolas was trembling violently from the wild surges of sensation that raced through his very veins. Beyond shame, past prudence, he found himself imploring the twin to end the heady torment.

Acquiescing to his plea, Elrohir gently eased him up onto his elbows and knees. He groaned with mingled relief and pleasure as the warrior entered him slowly then began to breathe erratically when the twin drove into him with deep, even strokes. Heated kisses were pressed to his back and shoulders leaving him all aquiver.

When Elrohir reached around his hips to cup him in his hand and fondle him to a second culmination, Legolas’ senses reeled wildly. The Elvenlord was a master at overwhelming him with multiple assaults, driving him mindless with rapture. Taken from behind, claimed from below – soon he was teetering on the brink of yet another explosion.

It was then that he felt it. An echo of pleasure not his own, building up swiftly, resounding in his mind and senses, building his pleasure to even greater heights. It occurred to him, even in his fogged state, that it must be Elrohir’s feelings that he was experiencing though how he did not have the time to ponder. For a moment later, release overcame them almost at the same instant.

The result was near cataclysmic. The rapture, however faintly felt, reverberated through him, linked with his own rolling climax and stoked and drew it out until it seemed his whole being was one mass of pure and powerful sensation. With every overwhelming wave that washed over him, he cried out hoarsely, helplessly, clutched convulsively at the sheet that it nearly came apart.

As he breathlessly rode out the multitude of sensations, he heard his name gasped out, Elrohir’s warm breath feathering his nape. He knew then that his assumption was right and that he had somehow tapped into Elrohir’s pleasure as it evolved into completion. Or had the warrior unleashed a gift or skill he’d previously hidden from his friend? Whatever it was, it left the prince completely drained and sated.

After Elrohir withdrew from him, he rolled onto his back and looked tiredly at the sable-haired Elf. He was unaccountably pleased to see the twin looking as spent and contented as he himself felt. But though sleep beckoned, he forced himself to stay awake a while longer. He had to know...

When he’d regained enough breath to speak, he said: “What – what did you do?” At the Elf-knight’s questioning gaze, he added uncertainly, “I felt your pleasure. It was faint but it – it joined with mine and – and heightened it.” He shuddered as he recalled the almost unbearable rapture. “I have never felt anything like it before.”

Elrohir hesitated before answering. “As I told you I have loved you long and deeply. Mayhap ‘twas but my passion spilling over that you felt.”

Legolas peered at him wonderingly. For some reason, he had the feeling that the twin was holding something back. But before he could question him further, Elrohir forestalled him.

“Does it matter how it happened?” he softly said. “So long as you enjoyed it that is all I care about.”

Legolas thought about it then nodded and relaxed back against the pillows.

“Valar, you’ve exhausted me,” he said with a tired grin. “I shall really need this night’s sleep.”

Elrohir’s answering smile seemed somewhat pensive. “I would ask a favor of you,” he murmured.

“If it is within my power.”

“I would that you still be by my side come morning,” he said. The twilight eyes quietly pleaded with him, the shadow of expected denial hovering at their edges.

Legolas comprehended the significance of the request. Save for the last time they had lain together, he had always left Elrohir’s side by dawn. It had been his way of keeping his twofold roles as longtime boon companion and occasional lover from merging. Now Elrohir was asking him to stay. To be both.

He gazed at Elrohir. Meldir, gwador, melethron. Friend, sworn brother, lover. He had not thought it possible for anyone to be all three to him. Yet here he was again, sharing his bed with his best friend and pledged brother. When will I learn never to underestimate him?

“I will be by your side,” Legolas whispered, educing a smile of such tender gratitude that his heart filled with gladness.

He moved into Elrohir’s inviting embrace and laid his head upon his shoulder. Strange, he thought bemusedly as sleep took hold of him, but this feels so right. As if I have always belonged here...

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

Glossary:

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

To be continued…
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince