Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Of Light and Shadow	By : Avaloyuru Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2298 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any copyright to the Tolkien/Middle-Earth Fandom, nor his canon characters or languages. I do not receive any form of compensation for this fanfiction. Original characters are my property.

Chapter List
- 5
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Slowly, as the last dregs of sleep drifted from him, Thranduil became aware of the softness of down feathers cradling his body. He felt nothing but the same heaviness pressing in on him that he had felt when he awakened that first day that now seemed so long ago. Stiffening as he felt the icy fingers of fear twisting in his lower belly, he struggled to clear his mind of the lingering fog of sleep, he turned his thoughts inward. The memory of the elf’s sudden anger at him was clear in his mind yet it felt almost distant, the pain and soreness that wracked his body was gone. The beatings had been brutal but it was the rape that would leave the deepest and lasting scars.
Warily opening his eyes, his vision focused on the polished oaken canopy above him. Forcing himself to remain still, he glanced toward the crackling sound in the hearth, he caught sight of the dark elf seated silently in a chair in front of it. Illuminated only by the flames in the hearth, he appeared soft in an ethereal way with his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin resting on the back of his fingers as he curled his hand in a loose fist, his other hand hidden in his lap behind his crossed legs. The long ebony tresses cascaded over his shoulders, spilling into a pile around his slender hips in the chair. Trailing his gaze upward toward his face, he paused at the slender neck. Frowning slightly as he drank in the beautiful oval face, noting the glistening trails down his cheeks as silent tears slipped freely from his half closed eyes.
Drawn toward him yet repelled by him at the same time, Thranduil wanted to hate him for what he had done to him. His frown deepened as he struggled with the urge to go to him, comfort him from whatever darkness it was that seemed to haunt to him. He found himself wanting to look into his eyes again, to see the beautiful spray of starlight when he smiled. Against his will he felt his desire stirring as he recalled the many nights they had lain together on the furs, warmed by the hearth and the heat of their desire for each other. Confused, he questioned his feelings as he struggled with just when his obedience to him evolved from a basic need to survive to conscious willful submission.
“Are you hungry?” Cerályië asked quietly as he rose from the chair and walked toward him. “I’m surprised.” He added when Thranduil only shook his head. “You have been asleep for a few days, you should be starving.” He told him, smiling softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to him.
Frowning, Thranduil said nothing as he let his gaze trail over the elf’s upper body, now fully exposed to him as the loosely tied house robe fell open. The soothing fragrance of Sólanäceae mingled with the stronger scent of Sandalwood wafted to him as the elf moved closer, resting his hand lightly on his chest.
“Our time together grows short.” Cerályië told him, studying his face as he caressed the length of his jawline with the tip of his finger. “Shh.” He smiled, pressing a gentle finger on his lips when Thranduil opened his mouth to speak. “In another place or another time you would not be a king. Oh how I would have cherished you...” He said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, his words trailing off as the lump in his throat returned.
“And what of love?” Thranduil asked as he reached up, pressing the elf’s fingers tighter against his lips, kissing the tips.
“The fates care not for love.” Cerályië sighed heavily yet smiled warmly as he traced a fingertip over the soft moist lips. “For my part, I will find solitude on the arms of my slaves. But you...” He paused, leaning down to kiss him softly. “You still have a chance to find that dream one day.” He said, brushing the trembling lips as he spoke.
Relaxing in the strong arms that suddenly embraced him, Cerályië closed his eyes and offered no resistance as Thranduil pulled him into the bed and rolled on top of him. He felt the sting of his tears as he clung to him, surrendering to the searching kiss that ravished his mouth hungrily. He knew from the beginning it had been foolish of him to even think he could have kept him there, yet he would treasure every moment he had spent with the beautiful king.
“If this were another place, in another time. I could easily love you with all my heart.” Those words had haunted his thoughts and dreams as he waited for him to rest and heal from the punishment he did not deserve. In just a few short days he would take him to the appointed place where he would be returned to the world where he belonged, a world far away from him.
Although his heart was heavy, Cerályië clung to him, arching as the hot mouth slowly kissed the length of his body. Gasping softly as he willingly spread his legs as Thranduil moved lower, gently sucking on the crown of his sex, swirling his tongue teasingly around it, sending jolts of pleasure through him. His fingers trembled as he caressed his cheeks only to tangle themselves in his hair as he slowly pulled the length of him into the warmth of his mouth. Moaning softly, he rocked his hips forward as the tension built with him.
Pulling free of him, Thranduil smiled at the startled expression on his face as he moved up over him. “I want to make love to you.” He said quietly as he leaned down, kissing his parted lips, dipping his tongue deeply in his mouth. “I want to be inside you when you surrender to me.” He whispered teasing his lips as he spoke.
“On headboard.”   Cerályië told him softly as he took his face in his hands, kissing him fiercely.
Looking toward the headboard, Thranduil saw the familiar tin of herbal salve. Stretching over him, he retrieved it and settled back down on the bed between his thighs. Scooping out a liberal amount, he tossed the tin aside as he looked up at him. Smiling softly as he slipped his finger beneath his ball sack, he easily found the wrinkled muscle and spread the salve over it before pressing firmly into the tight entrance.
Taking his time as he watched him, enjoying the blissful expression spread across his beautiful face as he gently slipped a second finger into him. Smiling as he watched him close his eyes, the pink tongue flicker over his dusky full lips in anticipation. Slipping a third finger alongside the first two, he carefully relaxing the grip of the tight ring, preparing him to accept him.
Pulling free of him, he moved up over him and turned him onto his side, pushing the soft house robe up out of his way as he pressed the length of his body along his. Guiding himself in place, he reached over his hips to grasp the length of his sex as he pressed into him. Burying his face in his neck as he pressed his groin tightly against the firm flesh of his backside, he held himself still for long moments as he leisurely stroked the elf’s swollen shaft.
Cerályië whimpered softly, his entire body shuddered as the long thickness entered him for the first time in many long years. Reaching up, he caressed the softness of Thranduils’ cheek as the pleasurable weakness flowed down his legs. Slowly as he felt him rock against him, each thrust pulling a groan from deep inside him, as the tension built, Cerályië surrendered his body to him completely.
                                                                      ~*~
“Thank you for joining me Elrond.” Lord Garävegión sighed deeply as the servant nodded a polite bow and disappeared, closing the door behind him. “I thought it more prudent we first discuss this matter in private.”
“Of course.” Elrond replied, a slight frown forming on his brow as he moved further into the lords private sitting room. “Aldalómë.” He nodded respectfully, noticing the young March Warden who stood anxiously at the corner of the hearth.
“Please.” Lord Garävegión began, waving toward the chair opposite him. “It has been more than four moons. I fear we must prepare ourselves for the reality that Thranduil may be lost to us.” He sighed heavily as he sank back down in his chair.
“No! We cannot give up hope!” Elrond exclaimed, his eyes widening as he glanced quickly between the two.
“We will never give up hope.” Aldalómë stated firmly, his expression guarded. “My father has always been the pragmatic one but his advice is sound and has served the realm well in the past. Our forces are stretched to the limit as it is. The destruction of Smaug has left Esgaroth in much disorder with the arrival many from other lands. It grows more and more difficult to distinguish between fact and rumor.”
“What have you heard?” Elrond asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back in the chair. His heart ached at the thought of losing one of his closest friends, particularly when that loss left so many unanswered questions.
“If we are to believe the rumors...” Lord Garävegión began, glancing at his son briefly.
“I saw them with my own eyes.” Aldalómë interrupted him angrily, clearly struggling with his emotions.
“Who did you see?” Elrond asked, noting the brief flash of a very deep pain in the young march wardens’ eyes before he could conceal it.
“A slave trader known as Crevan from Harad.” Aldalómë stated, his voice heavy with anger. “At first I thought nothing of it as he is known to travel these parts. It was his meeting with Egan that bothered me. He is a Northman often seen in the company of Lochinvar of the Ettenmoors known for his preference of elves as slaves.”
Closing his eyes, he cringed at the horrible images that flashed through his mind, Elrond felt as if the world had dropped from beneath him. If Thranduil had fallen into the hands of slave traders his fate was now in the hands of powers greater than their own. As the Elvenking, they would be able attract the attention of those with more than enough wealth to pay whatever they asked.
“We will keep this from Legolas until it can no longer be hidden from him.” Elrond stated, his eyes narrowed as he pinioned Lord Garävegión with a hard stare. “The prince is far too fragile in his mind right now to deal with that possibility.”
“I agree.” Lord Garävegión replied. “Unfortunately as my son has already stated, we do not have forces to extend the search that far.”
“Then we start with what we do know.” Elrond sighed heavily. “You have already searched as far south as the Sea of Rhûn and north to Withered Heath and found nothing. I suggest you recall your patrols and concentrate the search efforts in the northwest between the Ettenmoors and Emyn Uial.”
“You seriously think...” Lord Garävegión blurted.
“I do not think anything at the moment.” Elrond interrupted him firmly. “The searches have thus far revealed no sign of him, nothing, not so much as a scrap of his armor. This could mean that he managed to find some place safe on his own but has been severely wounded. In that case his natural powers to heal himself would also be limited enough that he has not yet been able to return on his own. I am merely suggesting that we cannot ignore other possibilities.”
“Legolas will question the recalling of the patrols.” Lord Garävegión said quietly, his anxiety growing as he studied Elronds’ guarded expression.
“Let me worry about Legolas.” Elrond stated as he rose from the chair. “We will discuss this again later.” He added, nodding in respect to Lord Garävegión.
“Damn it Thranduil! Where are you?!” He thought angrily to himself as he strode purposefully from the lords chambers.
                                                                     ~*~
“Everything has been prepared just as you requested.” Ivósaar stated, his eyes filled with concern as he studied the prince. “There are others who wish to join us.”
“No.” Legolas emphatically, shaking his head as he turned away from him to refill his goblet. “I will take only you and Träëliôrn. I do not wish to draw unnecessary attention.”
“These men are hardened warriors and we do not know for certain just how many there are.” Ivósaar stated, shaking his head as Legolas offered to refill his goblet. “What chance does only three elves stand against that?”
“It is not my intention to confront them.” Legolas sighed, his expression hardening as he walked back to the hearth. “If my father has truly been sold as a slave...” His voice cut off as his body shuddered visibly at the thought. “I doubt seriously they plan on killing him. We will return once we have gathered enough information to...”
“Come.” Legolas called out, holding his hand up toward his friend to silence him.
“Lord Elrond.” Legolas greeted him with a forced smile as he turned toward him. “Please, join us. This is Ivósaar, one of the captains in the forest patrol.”
“I trust there have been no additional problems arise?” Elrond stated more than asked, arching a brow as he approached them.
“No.” Legolas stated, inclining his head toward one of the chairs in front of the hearth. “Unless you know something I don’t, I am still the commander of the patrols. We were discussing the value of a different strategy that might thwart the encroachment of the shelob (spiders) any farther north.”
“I’m glad to see that you are becoming more active in your duties.” Elrond stated, glancing at the young patrol captain before seating himself opposite the young prince. “What strategy have you devised if I may ask?”
“They are breeding like flies in Dol Guldur.” Legolas sighed, guarding his expression as he turned to look at the Lord of Imladris. “Our forces are still weakened, but if we concentrate the patrols further south along the Mirkwood Mountains and leave the elite forces to guard along the Forest River, I think we can slow their advancement.”
“It might have merit. Have you presented this to Aldalómë or Lord Garävegión?” Elrond asked, sensing something uncomfortable within the young prince. Yet he smiled to himself as he saw much of his father in the young prince, a strength he would sorely need in the coming days.
“I thought it best to see to the details first.” Legolas replied, hiding behind his goblet as he took a long drink. “The next council meeting is still two days away.”
“My Lord.” Ivósaar stated, nodding respectfully toward Elrond before turning his attention to the prince. “If I may, I should meet with others before they retire for the evening.”
“Yes, of course.” Legolas nodded yet he did not look up at him.
“Lord Elrond.” Ivósaar addressed him respectfully as he turned away from them and quickly departed.
“Where do you propose to acquire the additional patrols?” Elrond pressed him as he relaxed back in the chair. Shifting his position as he rested his chin in his hand with his elbow on the arm of the chair, arching a brow inquisitively toward the prince.
“There are more volunteers as time passes.” Legolas replied, schooling his expression as he met the lords’ gaze evenly. “Much of the information coming from Esgaroth and Erebor has proven to be little more than speculation. I suspect Aldalómë will soon withdraw most of our forces from the region.”
“And what of the promised support?” Elrond continued, the uncomfortable feeling in his gut growing yet admiring the intuitiveness of the young prince.
“We will honor the agreement.” Legolas stated as he rose to his feet, acutely aware of Elronds’ unique ability to read others quite accurately. “It is what my father would have wanted.”
“Would?” Elrond asked, the frown now deepening across his brow. “You speak as though you have already given him up as lost.”
“Never!” Legolas exclaimed as he swung to face him, unable to hide the hurt and the rage that flashed in his pale blue eyes. “I will never give up hope that my father will return to me!”
“Legolas...”
“Stop coddling me!” Legolas stated angrily, stepping back slightly as Elrond rose to approach him. “He is my king but he is also my father! I cannot believe anything other than the fact that he still lives.”
“Thranduil has done well with you.” Elrond thought as he continued toward him, remembering how fiercely his friend had also defended and believed in Oropher in the face of so many doubts during the Battle of Last Alliance of Elves and Men. It had been Orophers’ own impetuousness that had resulted in his death, a loss that still haunted his friend to his very fäë (soul).
“None of us give up hope Legolas.” He told him quietly. “Your father is one of my closest and longest friends. As long as he draws breath he will find his way back to us, I have no doubt.”
“If you do not mind.” Legolas sighed, struggling to school his expression. “The hour grows late and I am tired.”
“I understand.” Elrond nodded as he clasped the young princes’ shoulder reassuringly. “It has been very trying for you. Perhaps I will see you at breakfast?”
“Of course.” Legolas nodded, a weak smile curling his lips as he nodded.
Draining the last of the wine in his goblet, his expression hardened as he watched Elrond walk calmly toward the door.
“If he leaves I want to know about it.” Elrond told the guard quietly once he had closed the door behind him. “I don’t care what the hour.”
“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). Thalieth replied with a sharp nod.
Disappearing immediately into his bed chamber, Legolas striped himself of his royal robes and hastily donned one of his older patrol uniforms. Pausing only briefly as he mentally checked himself, he lifted the silver circlet from his head and laid it on his dressing table. Without the slightest hesitation, he strode purposefully through his private chambers to the secret passage in his fathers’ chambers. His pace quickened decisively as he made his way to the tapestry in his fathers’ private sitting room. Slipping behind it, he carefully secured it back in place before sprinting silently down the narrow escape passage that led deep beneath the fortress.
Under the cover of darkness and hidden in the thick pine grove several miles to the west, Ivósaar and Träëliôrn waited impatiently. They had no idea how long the Lord of Imladris would delay the prince, yet there was no doubt between them that he would find a way to meet them.
“There.” Träëliôrn whispered quietly as he caught sight of a flash of silvery blonde hair in the moonlight just beyond the grove.
“We have until morning before I will be missed.” Legolas stated as he sprinted up to them. “We ride west along the Forest River.” He continued as he swing himself gracefully into the saddle. “We do not stop until we reach Langwell Pass.”
Without another word, the trio turned their mounts west and galloped into the night toward one of the most dangerous passes through the Misty Mountains.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Of Light and Shadow