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Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3386 -:- 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
- 5
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Chapter V: Blow Up

Abandoning the main trail, which they now deemed much too hazardous despite their need, they made use of the less-travelled byways. Every so often one of the twins would return to the trail to seek clues as to where the non-orkish denizens of the mountains most often headed. A pattern soon emerged and they journeyed in a northeastern direction.

Three days after their encounter with the orc band, they set up camp in a relatively secure glade far from any of the mountain paths. Here they would rest for a spell and get their bearings. Even the twins needed a respite from relentless tracking. But they still maintained their guard, constantly conscious that they were in enemy territory and an enemy of whom they knew next to nothing at that.

It was on the morning of their second day of encampment that trouble of another sort broke out. Elrohir awoke to find Legolas gone. The prince had taken the last watch of the previous night.

Alarmed, he roused the others and, after a quick perusal of the grounds, swiftly picked up the archer’s faint trail. Leaving Elladan and Gimli behind to guard the camp, he raced off. He had not gone far when he saw the archer poised on a high ridge, partially hidden by the bare branches of a stunted tree. He was watching something.

Elrohir sucked in his breath as a half-dozen goblins came into sight. They were hurrying along a narrow track just below, oblivious of the Elf warrior who watched them with cold blue eyes. He gasped as Legolas raised his bow.

Cursing beneath his breath, he sprinted toward the prince, grabbed him by the arm before he could loose his arrow and hauled him down. Legolas could not help a soft startled yelp. Immediately the orcs stopped and looked up in their direction. Elrohir let out a shrill birdcall, hoping the orcs would not perceive the difference between it and Legolas’ earlier cry. The two Elves lay as still as possible. At length, they heard the orcs move off, the heavy thuds of their trudging, dragging feet fading into silence.

They stood up and peered carefully about them. There were no orcs in sight. Elrohir’s ruse had worked.

He took Legolas by an arm and pulled him back to the camp. “Valar! What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Why did you come here?”

Legolas frowned, disliking the warrior’s brusque manner. “I heard them approaching and thought to waylay them before they discovered our location,” he said.

Elrohir scowled. “They were not even aware of our presence. You would have called their attention to it had I not stopped you. That was a needless chance you took, Legolas.”

Legolas bristled at the apparent criticism. “I did what I deemed best,” he retorted. “I feared they would pass our way and alert the rest of their band. Better to deal with that small number than a whole den’s worth!”

“Better not to deal with them at all if we can help it!” Elrohir countered. “We are far from help and ‘twould be wiser to avoid any confrontations if we can.”

“This from one who took on whole tribes of orcs in his days of errantry!” Legolas almost taunted.

Elrohir felt his temper begin to flare. “Elladan and I never took on more than we knew we could handle! As you know full well, Legolas!”

“And I could have taken on that pitiful group as you know full well, Elrohir!”

“A witless risk to my mind. I will not have you imperil yourself so readily!”

By now they had reached the camp. Elladan and Gimli looked at them in consternation upon hearing their less than civil exchange. Legolas was in a veritable stew, his pride struck hard by Elrohir’s interference. He yanked his arm out of his mate’s grip and faced him, eyes flashing angrily.

“I am not a child for you to whisk away at the first whiff of danger!”

“Nor am I a fool to let you plunge into peril mindlessly!”

“I am a warrior, Edhel.”—Elf. “I will not be treated thusly!”

Elladan rolled his eyes and signaled to Gimli to follow him. The Dwarf stared at him in surprise then worriedly glanced back at the arguing pair.

“We can’t leave them like this!” he protested. “Let us make them see reason.”

Elladan placed a firm hand on his shoulder and insistently propelled him away from the vicinity.

“Never come between two quarrelling Elves,” Elladan grimly advised him. “Especially if one is a Peredhel and the other a Thranduilion.”

“But what if orcs—?”

“We will stand watch. In the meantime, ‘tis best to let them have it out.” When Gimli still hesitated, he added: “Would you bear witness to what they might say to each other?”

Gimli heaved an exasperated sigh and allowed Elladan to lead him out of earshot of the pair.

Meanwhile, Elrohir and Legolas’ verbal battle had not abated one whit. If anything, it seemed in danger of escalating further.

“Our binding does not give you the right to dictate to me what I may or may not do!” Legolas blasted at the twin.

“But it does give me the right to protect you when I feel the need to do so!” Elrohir countered acidly.

Legolas exclaimed vexedly: “Elbereth! How did I ever wind up with a jailer for a binding-mate?!”

Elrohir’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You should know, Legolas,” he retorted, “since ‘twas you who begged that we bind to each other.”

Legolas took umbrage at such a charge. “I would never lower myself to beg for anything,” he spat irately. “And certainly not from an overbearing, half-breed Elf!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Legolas knew he’d made a potentially fatal mistake. Elrohir’s face whitened and his mouth tightened ominously. His eyes blazed with unholy rage. Legolas attempted to stave off the onslaught of the darkling Elf’s fury.

“Elrohir, I did not—”

He did not get to finish the sentence. With a snarl, Elrohir tackled him to the ground. Instinctively, he fought back and they rolled on the withered grass, wrestling savagely for mastery.

But Elrohir had the advantage of his anger to aid him. After a brief struggle, he forced Legolas onto his stomach, grabbed his arms and pinioned them at an angle designed to break them if the archer attempted to free himself.

He bore down on the prince, using the full length of his body to pin the other down. Legolas bit back a cry of pain as the ache in his arms worsened from Elrohir’s merciless hold on them. He felt the twin’s warm breath against his ear, felt the raven tresses brush his nape and cheeks.

“Get off me!” he howled furiously.

“Why, Legolas?” Elrohir hissed tauntingly. “Does it gall you to lie beneath a half-breed Elf?”

The archer froze at the bitter words. He attempted to speak. “‘Tis not—”

Elrohir cut him off. “Has it been a torment to you all these years, ernilen?”—my prince?—he seethed. “To be bedded by a mere Peredhel? To be taken by an Elven mongrel, a lowly adanedhel?” —man-Elf?

Shocked, Legolas protested vehemently. “Nay, that is not so! I – ah, Elrohir, you will break my arm!” he said through gritted teeth.

For an agonizing moment, he thought his left arm would snap. And then, Elrohir abruptly released his arms and got off him in one fluid motion.

Legolas painfully pushed himself off the ground, panting slightly. He glanced at Elrohir. The twin was sitting cross-legged, arms resting loosely on his thighs, his dark head bowed. Tentatively, Legolas reached out to touch him but the Elf-lord pulled back his arm, evading his hand. Vaguely alarmed Legolas crept to him and knelt before him. He stared wordlessly at his mate.

Raw hurt radiated from the Elf-knight’s hunched form. Legolas cringed inwardly, regretting his harshly spoken words. What has become of me? I am no better than Melthoron in his arrogant youth, he thought, recalling his once ill-tempered brother’s vile tongue. He held his breath when Elrohir raised his head to look at him. His twilight eyes glittered and his cheeks were streaked with silent tears. Legolas could have whipped himself for hurting the Elf-warrior so grievously that he would weep before him.

“I am sorry I hurt you,” Elrohir whispered.

Legolas flinched at the apology. He shook his head. "'Tis I who should ask for forgiveness,” he said contritely.

Elrohir did not seem to hear him. He lowered his eyes once more, stared unseeingly at his hands.

“Elladan and I were called many things by those who thought themselves our betters,” he murmured, his voice low and dull. “They did not trouble me for I cared nothing for their opinion or esteem. But I never thought that you—” He broke off as his voice caught and he shuddered visibly.

“I did not mean it,” Legolas said remorsefully. '"Twas my anger that spoke, not my heart.“

The darkling Elf heaved a sorrowful sigh. “Bound but for ten years and already you rue it.”

Shocked into speechlessness by the allegation, Legolas could only stare at him. He reached out to take Elrohir’s hand but again the twin evaded his touch. Legolas exhaled in frustration.

Elrohir looked away, staring into the distance though it was clear he saw nothing. “There is no breaking such a bond in Arda,” he continued dispiritedly. “But for you...” He swallowed hard, “I will try to find a way.”

The unexpected offer snapped Legolas out of his daze. Consternation coursed through his veins like burning ice.

“Nay, I do not desire that!” he cried, forcibly pulling Elrohir into his arms, refusing to let the twin evade him once more. “Elrohir, I love you!” He pressed his face into the Elvenlord’s neck. “Do not speak of cleaving us apart.”

He felt Elrohir’s arms curl around him but the embrace was tentative, as if the warrior was unsure whether to hold him close. Legolas drew back and gazed at him, anxiously looking for any sign that he had assuaged some of the terrible pain he had inflicted so callously.

The light in the mithril-hued eyes was muted, the vibrancy stilled. Love still glowed in their depths but the trust – his Elrohir’s trust was profoundly shaken. Legolas cupped his mate’s face, wondering how to heal the wound he’d so thoughtlessly dealt.

“Please, Aduial, do not shut me out,” he implored. When still the twin failed to respond, he almost sobbed. Pridefully forcing back his treacherous tears, he pleaded: “Forgive me, beloved, forgive me. I did not mean those words. Please, Elrohir, I love you.”

Impulsively, he crushed his lips against the Elf-knight’s and kissed him with a violence neither had ever thought him capable of. Even Elrohir’s pain could not withstand the heat and force of the prince’s passion. He moaned when Legolas refused to relinquish his lips, gasped as the archer tore at the clasps of his tunic. He tried to pull away but Legolas pursued him with all the tenacity of a rÿn, or hunting hound, on the trail of its prey.

“Legolas, avo…”—don’t—he entreated, breaking away momentarily. He was silenced by an even more possessive kiss while the archer’s hands yanked his tunic from his shoulders and down his arms.

Desperate needs required desperate measures. In the first years of their espousal, Elrohir had led the way in their couplings more oft than not. But that had changed in recent years as was evident now. Legolas seized the role, exerting his mastery, forcing his desire upon the Elf-rider. He wanted to erase the anguish of his brutal words, longed to bridge the yawning chasm that had opened between them and seemed to widen with every passing second. But after such a primal confrontation, only something equally elemental would breach the walls of Elrohir’s resistance. He bore the warrior down, marshalling all his elven strength to subdue him.

Without breaking their kiss, he reached between their bodies and tugged at the lacing of the twin’s breeches. Feeling the loosening of his clothing, Elrohir managed to free his mouth from Legolas’ demanding custody.

“Nay, I cannot do this,” he protested, struggling to get out from under the archer.

Legolas pinned him down by sheer force of will. “Do not fight me,” he pleaded roughly. “Let me love you. Please, Elrohir.”

Elrohir stared at the prince uncertainly, reluctant to render himself vulnerable in the wake of the latter’s unbidden verbal assault. Love battled it out with pride for primacy. He drew in a shaky breath as the prince pressed kisses to his damp cheeks and nuzzled his neck. In the end, his love for Legolas won. It always will, he thought helplessly.

Resignedly, he lay back, unresisting. With swift, able hands, Legolas divested him of his remaining clothes then stripped himself bare as well. With their raiment shielding his mate from the chill ground, the prince began an assault of another sort, bent on reclaiming the Elvenlord, intent on making their bodies one. He maintained a relentless pace, withholding even a moment’s respite from Elrohir lest the twin retreat from him anew. What he lacked in long experience, he more than made up for in gut-feel and remorse-driven passion.

Elrohir gasped as the archer’s lips and teeth left yet another crimson mark on his flesh, joining the myriad others randomly scattered on his throat, shoulders, chest and abdomen. More made their appearance on the creamy skin of his groins and thighs. When Legolas took him into his mouth, he groaned from the sheer acuteness of the sensation. The archer suckled him rapaciously, almost forcibly awakening his body. Pure pleasure blurred his thoughts, blunted his will. But even as he felt his body surge to life, he knew he could not bear to be brought to release in this manner. It made him feel too completely at the prince’s mercy and this he could not endure. Not now. Not when he felt so fragile within.

He reached down desperately, saying beseechingly, “Legolas, not like this, please. I cannot...”

Instinctively, Legolas understood his plea. Though he regretted foregoing the chance of bringing Elrohir to completion thus, he also knew it would only undo what he had so far achieved. Breathing raggedly, he moved between Elrohir’s thighs, lifted the twin’s hips and sheathed himself completely within the Elf-knight, melding their slender, powerful forms into searing union. For several moments, all that existed for them was the shared symphony of their impassioned outbursts, the harmony of their pounding hearts and the counterpoint of their writhing loins.

Their coupling was as fierce and blistering as their fight had been. It needed to be for just as they eased their furies and expended their energies on the fields of battle, so now did they need to resolve their differences and spend their raging emotions in another arena.

Overwhelmed by the crashing, unrestrained waves of Legolas’ spiraling rapture that swept over and through his body, Elrohir swiftly found his release, the force of it buffeting his lean bulk, partially winding him in its intensity. A bare second later, Legolas came to explosive completion as well, spending himself deep within the younger twin. After a few moments’ reprieve, the prince slowly eased himself from his mate. And then, to Elrohir’s astonishment, he leaned down and licked the Elf-lord’s taut belly clean of his seed.

Only then did he creep up to lie beside the darkling Elf, insistently drawing him into the circle of his arms. Elrohir’s eyes were closed, his mouth trembling though he strove to still it. Legolas brushed his own mouth gently against the quivering lips. The caress stilled the trembling and the Elf-knight opened his eyes to look at his golden spouse.

“Please tell me you forgive me,” Legolas whispered, his eyes imploring. “I will beg this of you if you demand it.”

Elrohir drew in a shuddering breath. “I would never allow you to bring yourself so low as to beg,” he said.

“Let me hear the words then,” the prince murmured anxiously. “Assure me that I have not lost your love this day.”

Elrohir regarded him somberly. For the dreadful space of a heartbeat, Legolas thought that what he feared had already come to pass. But then the twilight pools softened and the tense mouth relaxed somewhat.

“I told you I would never cease to love you,” he quietly reminded the archer. When Legolas continued to gaze at him pleadingly, he murmured: “Aye, I forgive you.”

Nearly swooning in heartfelt relief, Legolas held tight to his mate. He did not delude himself that all was right between them. With one fell swoop, he had crippled the trust they had built over most of the last age. In his oblivious spite, he had revealed to the twin a side he himself had not even realized he possessed; the knowledge gutted him to the core. It would take time before Elrohir fully trusted him once more.

He deemed me worthy of him yet I have just proven how undeserving I am of his noble heart. Legolas felt tears of shame and apprehension sting his eyes though he stubbornly hid them from the raven-haired Elf.

For uncounted years, Elrohir had loved him without condition, both his perfections and his flaws, even when he had hurt him in his thickheaded refusal to accept that love. But Elrohir had known his fears, understood his reluctance and patiently borne his misguided attempts to escape the trap of his own unacknowledged love for the Elf-knight.

This was different. He had deliberately struck at his binding-mate, knowing he would draw blood, nay, counted on it. He guiltily admitted to himself that had not the Elf-lord been roused to such a fearsome rage, he would have savored the effects of his well-aimed blow. He felt shriveled inside from the baseness of his previous intentions.

What if this has tainted me in his eyes/ Legolas could not bear to even think of the consequences.

*******

Elladan and Gimli waited in the small clearing to which they had retreated while the pair tussled. Elladan stood quietly to one side. But Gimli could not keep still and fidgeted and paced and demanded every few minutes what in Durin’s name was happening.

At length, Elladan let out a rather weary breath. He looked at Gimli, his countenance grave and troubled.

“They are done. Let us go back,” he quietly said.

“How do you—?” Gimli stopped then grunted. “Ah, you sense your brother’s feelings, don’t you?” At Elladan’s nod, he said: “I wonder how they settled their argument.”

“With swordplay,” Elladan softly replied.

Gimli stared at the Elf-lord in shock. “What? And we left them to it?” he nearly sputtered. “Confound it, Peredhel, they could have killed each other!”

Elladan turned sage eyes on him. “Not all swords kill, Master Gimli.”

Gimli stared at him uncomprehendingly at first. Then enlightenment came upon him and his mouth formed an ‘o’. His ruddy cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Dratted Elves,” he muttered as he followed Elladan back to the camp.

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

Glosssary:

Peredhel – Half-elf, Half-elven

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

To be continued…
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold