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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 12116 -:- 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-Advent
- 2-Bridging
- 3-Pledges
- 4-Serendipity
- 5-Deepening
- 6-Request
- 7-Bedfellows
- 8-Liaison
- 9-Catalyst
- 10-Tidings
- 11-Profession
- 12-Rift
- 13-Seeking
- 14-Confluence
- 15-Oneness
- 16-Assignation
- 17-Covenant
- 18-Gambit
- 19-Recovery
- 20-Bond
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter VII: Bedfellows

Legolas walked aimlessly about his bedchamber, lost in his thoughts. Clad in a snowy silken bed-shirt and its accompanying trousers, his shining tresses loose upon his shoulders and tumbling down his back, he looked every inch the virginal prince that he was. Virginal in body that was. For his mind was by no means innocent; ignorant mayhap of some things but innocent, no.

For too long had he pictured to himself the act in which he hoped to indulge this night. Too often had he endured sleepless nights from the onset of his unruly adolescence all the way to the moment of his joyous reunion with Elrohir on the plains outside Mirkwood. Then the sleeplessness had been replaced by dreams of such potency as to unravel him even in his sleep. And always at their center was the Elf-knight. His Elf-knight.

No one had ever dared claim Elrohir as he had. No one had ever worked up the nerve save for an irrepressible Elfling with a stubborn streak in his makeup. With the passage of time, it became a natural thing for Legolas to refer to Elrohir as his. So integral to their relationship had this possessive allusion become that everyone now accepted it to the point of taking it for granted.

And Legolas had taken it for granted, too, especially during his childhood years and with much delight and self-satisfaction that it was so. That had changed when he first laid eyes on Elrohir during that fateful rescue more than three score years ago. Of a sudden, he became sharply aware of things that had always been intrinsic to the Elf-knight in heart, body and soul.

Such as his sensual grace. And his captivating gentleness. And the enticing scent that clung to his body. His tall, sleekly muscled body with its broader than usual shoulders and chest and long powerful limbs, bearing strength that was uniquely Peredhil. As was the beauty of his face. Arresting argent eyes that looked deep into your soul, a proud nose and cheekbones that bespoke an impressive noble lineage, and sinuous lips that beckoned whether they were curved in a smile, tight with ire or parted in melodious laughter.

He’d known then, even all those years ago, that no matter who else he might deign to bed, Elrohir had to be the first to unravel him, would be the only one to know him wholly and fully. He was the one Elf whose conquest he would submit to with nary a protest and long for with all the passion he possessed.

Legolas shook his head in frustration. Valar, he had lived with this yearning for so long it would surely drive him to madness if he did not quench it soon. He sighed then. There lay his problem. He was certain Elrohir would come to him this night. But that did not necessarily herald the warrior’s acquiescence to his request. Elrohir simply would never leave him wondering – he would come whether his answer was yea or nay. And he would gently and carefully let him down if it were a nay. Legolas gritted his teeth. Ai, let it not be that, he thought fretfully.

A soft knock on his door yanked him out of his musings. Quelling the impulse to hold his breath, he hurried to the door, not even bothering to inquire as to the identity of the caller. He opened it - and stared. There was no mistaking the nature of the answer he sought.

Elrohir leaned sideways against the doorjamb, raven hair unbound for the night, arms folded across his chest. A chest that was partially exposed since he had foregone the fastening of his bed-shirt. Below, the matching trousers were slung rather low on his lean hips. Both were of a blue grey shade bordering on mauve that only served to further point up the silver of his wondrous eyes. This time, Legolas did hold his breath.

“Are you still set on this?” Elrohir quietly asked.

Wordlessly, Legolas nodded, his eyes riveted on the twin in patent fascination.

“You do realize what conclusions will be drawn from this once I step into your room,” the Elf-knight remarked, tilting his head to indicate the corridor.

Legolas looked as well and marked the surreptitious but clearly curious glances being cast their way by sundry retainers and a few noble guests whose apartments were located nearby. He suddenly smiled and found his tongue.

“All the better,” he murmured. He flicked shining dark blue eyes at the Elf-knight and held out a hand.

Elrohir straightened and took the proffered hand. Ignoring the disbelieving stares of the Elves outside, he allowed Legolas to draw him into the bedchamber.

The prince said nothing as they walked to his bed, releasing Elrohir’s hand only when they came up beside it. In truth, his insides were all a-flutter now that the moment had come. It was one thing to dream of an experience, quite another to live through it and know it in the flesh. Dreams had an elusive, distant quality to them. Reality was close and solid and far more overwhelming.

He gazed at Elrohir, unable to speak. Everything he had always imagined was about to come true yet he was no longer so certain about his fortitude, no longer calm and confident as the incessant flip-flopping in his belly evinced.

Silently, Elrohir reached for Legolas and pulled him flush against him. As the archer’s eyes glittered with mingled anticipation and apprehension, he slid a hand up and behind Legolas’ nape and drew him into the first kiss of their long acquaintance.

Legolas could not help the faint moan that fled his lips when their mouths met and melded. In none of his prior forays had he encountered the feelings Elrohir evoked in him with a simple kiss. Though the word was an egregious understatement. There was nothing simple about this kiss.

His lips were caressed with maddening sensuality, waking in him the need to press hard against the warrior. And then they were urged apart by a gentle yet peremptory swipe of the tongue. Whereupon he soon experienced the heady sensation of the pillaging of his mouth. His moans deepened and roughened. He tightened his hold on Elrohir, a mad yearning to merge himself with the twin fast overtaking him.

When Elrohir released him, he could only stare back at him, panting with an aching desire he had not thought possible. Elrohir marked his lust-darkened eyes, his stained cheeks, his slightly parted lips and the nervous lick of a rosy tongue tip.

“‘Tis your last chance to withdraw,” Elrohir said, his arm firm around the prince’s slender form. “Are you certain you want this?”

When Legolas in his daze did not respond at once, he gripped a fistful of golden hair in his other hand and, exerting just enough force, compelled the archer to tilt back his head. He used the other’s momentary muteness to suckle at his throat; it elicited a hoarse groan from Legolas.

“Are you?” Elrohir repeated with a growl against the sweet flesh.

Legolas clutched tremblingly at him, shaking with every nip and kiss to his neck. “Ah, Valar!” he gasped. “Aye, Elrohir, I am more than certain. Please, do not stop now,” he all but whispered in desperation.

Elrohir lifted his head to capture the archer’s lips once more. With just the slightest of nudges, he propelled Legolas back a step. The edge of the bed caught the prince behind his knees; Legolas could do naught but allow Elrohir to lower him onto the bed. A moment later, he was pressed into it by the Elf-knight’s taller, stronger body.

Elrohir did not hurry but leisurely lured him into play, reminding him that they were to enjoy themselves and each other this night. Legolas savored the languorous pace, which steadily stoked the fires of his passion yet permitted him time to adjust to each stage of waxing intimacy.

So enthralled was he by the Elf-knight’s ministrations that he protested when they ceased. Only to catch his breath when supple fingers undid his shirt and loosened his trousers. Legolas gazed up at his darkling lover while Elrohir divested him of his clothing. He stared raptly as the twin shrugged off his shirt and tugged at the ties of his own trousers.

Eager for his first glimpse of the warrior’s unclothed form, Legolas reached out to help Elrohir shed his raiment as well. They gazed upon each other for a spell, letting their eyes map what hands and mouths would later thoroughly explore.

“You have truly grown up, Legolas,” Elrohir murmured, tracing the line of a finely sculpted chest muscle with his finger, making Legolas shiver with delight. “And grown beautiful beyond words. You would drive any Elf to distraction just by baring your charms.”

The archer’s breath hitched as the wandering finger lingered on a fast hardening nipple. “And you could seduce even the Valar themselves, I warrant, just by revealing yours,” he whispered, eyes gleaming with elation. “Splendor of Eru, you cover your graces well, Elf-knight!”

Elrohir softly laughed though the faintest trace of color touched his cheekbones. So charming was this sight and so very alluring that Legolas cast all uncertainty and timidity aside and molded himself to the twin’s long frame, sealing his mouth to the other’s with lustful shamelessness.

His wantonness unleashed Elrohir’s previously restrained ardor. He pinned Legolas down to the bed, trapping him with his body, and proceeded to tutor him in the first of his lessons in the love-arts.

Legolas soon had more than ample reason to crow over his decision to avail of Elrohir’s considerable knowledge and skill. No awkward queries or hesitant fumbling marred their play. Even the least gentle of maneuvers was still executed with a grace and certitude born of the Elf-knight’s long experience. But more than that, he quickly realized that Elrohir’s mastery lay most markedly in his attentiveness to his partner’s needs and meeting them if possible. Not to mention springing a few surprises if in doing so he added to their shared rapture.

As he did with Legolas when he moved beyond the use of his hands and employed his mouth in seeing to the archer’s most fervent need. Legolas nearly keened when he was drawn into wet silken warmth no enclosing fist could match. He gripped the bed sheet convulsively as he was sucked to the brink of completion only to be denied it for a maddening moment, and then drawn upon anew until he was hoarsely begging for an end to the exquisite torment. Elrohir did bring the torment to an end by easing one finger slick with his incipient seed into the prince’s untried body to stroke him from within. Another soon followed. Legolas would never know how he retained his sanity after that.

Barely recovered from the most shattering climax he’d yet known, Legolas burrowed into Elrohir’s embrace, wondering if he could withstand further pleasuring yet curious and eager to learn more and be undone anew at Elrohir’s so very capable hands. There was no comparing the clumsy, unlearned kisses and caresses of his earlier explorations with the Elf-knight’s inimitable servicing.

He shivered with bliss at the memory of Elrohir’s stroking fingers within him, lifting him to such heights of pleasure as he had not previously thought existed. He could feel the Elf-knight’s hard length against his belly and suddenly yearned to know what it would be like to sheath the thick and rigid flesh. Strangely, he did not fear the experience even if there should be some pain. Not if it was Elrohir who speared him.

The thought made him giddy with expectation and he hungrily pressed his mouth against Elrohir’s throat and suckled hard at the twin’s fair skin. He knew and Elrohir knew that it would show in the morning – no collar would hide the mark he left for it was too high and vividly colored. Legolas chortled mischievously as he imagined the expressions of all who would note it.

Elrohir looked at him with tender amusement. “Marking me, lass dithen?”—little leaf?—he mildly inquired though the intent of his roaming hand was anything but.

Legolas wriggled deliciously as his flank was stroked and his thighs were caressed.

“‘Tis to make certain everyone knows what we did this night,” he said, gasping in between words as Elrohir’s hand cupped and squeezed his bottom meaningfully. “And I told you, I am not little any longer!”

Elrohir laughed under his breath. “Indeed you are not. And I would have you know that the brimming mouthful you bestowed on me was just as sweet to taste as your impressive girth and length.”

“Elbereth,” Legolas said chokingly. “You are no less bawdy of tongue than your brother!”

“It comes easily when I have so luscious a treat to myself as you,” Elrohir murmured while he rolled Legolas onto his back and wedged himself between the other’s thighs. The prince watched, engrossed, while the Elf-knight coated the length of his shaft with their mingled seed.

Legolas drew in a shuddery breath as they came to the verge of his full undoing. But with typical verve, he did not shy away or flinch from timidity but eagerly lifted his legs to wrap them around Elrohir’s waist.

The twin’s eyes glittered perilously in the dim light. “Heed me well, Legolas,” he whispered. “Let no ellon do unto you as I do now or any elleth dictate her wishes save if he or she be your heart’s choice. Take what you desire, but yield only to your soul’s chosen mate. I would see you safe, melethronen.”—my lover. “I would have you happy and content.”

Legolas smiled in deepest felicity both at the endearment and the sage advice. “I will abide by your guidance, pen vell”—dear one—he said, his voice soft with affection.

Elrohir smiled back. Holding Legolas’ hips firmly, he slowly eased into the archer’s body. He did not force his entry but pressed in with caution to keep from hurting Legolas unnecessarily.

The archer gasped and writhed as he was steadily filled. Nothing, not even his most fevered imaginings could have prepared him for the reality of his body’s breaching. Swallowing hard, he strove to ignore the natural discomfort of a first yielding and focused on the beauty of their joining instead. In this, Elrohir aided him with words of comfort and caring, his hands stroking the prince’s quivering thighs soothingly. He dipped his head to lick and tug at Legolas’ nipples.

The discomfort swiftly receded before such loving and sensuous attention and soon Legolas was only aware of the warm, thrumming column that impaled him. He opened his eyes and gazed wonderingly at Elrohir. The Elf-knight adjusted his angle minutely even as he delivered a shallow thrust. Another adjustment and another thrust and suddenly Legolas let out a strangled cry of rapture.

It was what Elrohir sought and he began to drive into the prince, at first slowly and carefully, always aiming for the latter’s pleasure, then more rapidly and heartily. Body humming with indescribable sensation, Legolas pushed back with wild abandon.

Elrohir leaned low over him as they both approached their peaks. Legolas moaned when he felt his shaft enclosed in the warrior’s fist and stroked in time to their bodies’ movements. With shaking hands, he reached up, cupped Elrohir’s face and pulled him down to meet his parted lips in a hot-tongued, plundering kiss.

It came then, an almost unbearable wave of ecstasy that had him arching desperately against the twin, his legs locking fast around him as tremor after tremor raced through his body. Instinctively, he tightened his muscles around Elrohir’s spearing length, which further heightened both their pleasures. Still unused to such breath-stealing sensations, Legolas sobbed uncontrollably against Elrohir’s lips before a stifled cry finally escaped him. A moment later, he gasped as the Elf-knight embedded himself deep and hard in his core and liquid heat filled him. He heard his name uttered hoarsely. Curling his arms needfully around the warrior’s shoulders, Legolas buried his face in the crook of Elrohir’s neck.

Quite a long while passed before they gave thought to uncoupling their bodies only to draw together once more in an encompassing embrace, arms around each other, legs gently entangled, Legolas’ head resting contentedly upon Elrohir’s shoulder. They spoke quietly then, Legolas questioning about a myriad matters, Elrohir forthcoming with his answers. In between, their mouths met in liquid unions that soon had the flames of desire building once more.

It was way past midnight ere they both drifted into restful repose. Conscious of the faint throbbing in his backside from his two takings, Legolas wondered how pain could be so delightful. He smiled dreamily as he reflected on the manner of Elrohir’s tutelage.

His friend had been gentleness itself in these, his first piercings, whether with deft fingers, wicked tongue or formidable shaft. But he had not been as tender in other areas, intuitively divining Legolas’ liking for some rough usage. The prince did not doubt that his next taking would no longer be as wary.

Nestled in Elrohir’s arms, Legolas grinned smugly to himself. There would be a next time – he would see to it. One did not forego the pleasure of such peerless mastery as the Elf-knight possessed unless one was a hopeless fool.

*******

The singing of his praises was as fulsome as the hearty viands that were laid out upon the groaning long tables. The torch-lit garden was a fitting setting for the numerous oft-florid odes to his beauty and grace. And with every fresh pouring of wine, embarrassingly ardent toasts were offered in his name.

And that was all.

No sly propositions were uttered. No lingering caresses were attempted. Legolas beamed happily through the night, basking in attention that was welcome, unencumbered by that which was not. And he owed his bliss to the grey-eyed Elf-knight who scarcely left this side during the course of his begetting day feast.

Hardly a day had passed after their first joining ere the whole of the Woodland Realm knew of his undoing by Elrohir. Soon, everyone was whispering of their trysting. It was not only the gossip courtesy of the Elves who noted the younger twin keeping nightly company with the king’s last-born that told of their intimacy. It was also the vivid love-bruises Legolas enthusiastically inflicted on Elrohir’s creamy neck each night that gave away their budding affair.

Neither Thranduil nor Elrond quite knew whether to be appalled or amused by the turn of events when informed of it by the pair’s respective siblings. But after gaining enlightenment from Elladan as to the reason for their preemptive coupling, they had to concede that if it had been Legolas’ intention to avoid unwanted advances, he had certainly chosen the most effective way of achieving it.

Thranduil simply rolled his eyes in resignation, quite used by now to his youngest son’s headstrong ways. But Elrond, recalling Gandalf’s words of long ago, wondered what lay in store for the two though he made no mention of his concern save to his lady-wife who was also his most trusted confidante.

Whatever their various feelings about the affair however, both families agreed that what mattered in the end was whether or not Legolas and Elrohir were pleased with the intimate turn their relationship had taken. It was clearly evident that they were.

Ellith pouted and ellyn scowled in the days preceding the feast. Not a few black glares of envy were directed at Elrohir for having plucked what they’d so coveted. But it was a useless exercise in pique. The deed was done. Legolas had been irrevocably shorn of his bodily innocence by none other than his dearest friend. And so, would-be suitors of both genders kept their dashed hopes to themselves (though not their lubricious stares) and doused the burning desire to approach the prince despite his present unavailability.

But it was not any proprietary gesture on Elrohir’s part that warned them away. The Elf-knight’s reputation was such that none dared court ridicule by harboring the absurd suspicion that he had taken advantage of his close relationship with Legolas. He was too noble a soldier-prince to have ever thought of wooing an Elf whose adoration and trust he’d had in his keeping since infancy, much less seducing him. It was simply inconceivable. The Mirkwood Elves quickly discerned just who had made the first overture and even more swiftly caught the message behind the whole affair.

Legolas would be nobody’s guerdon. One could flirt with him or try to beguile him. But anything beyond that would not be countenanced. He would do the courting, the seducing, and the taking. Let any Elf who attempted otherwise beware. This prince would brook no presumptions on his person.

Until the day he chose his eternal spouse, only to Elrohir would he surrender all. For the Peredhel who had virtually breathed life into him and always guarded that life no matter the cost would never deem it other than what it was – a most cherished gift. A shared blessing between two friends bound by an exemplary closeness and a singular regard for each other.

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

Glossary:

ellon – male Elf (pl. ellyn)

elleth – Elf-maid (pl. ellith)

To be continued…
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond