Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Barad-en-Elei (Fortress of Dreams)	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and no profit of any kind is earned by this story. Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Part Seven - Elros

A soft, jubilant cry left Maglor's lungs and he cupped Elladan's face between his hands, sealing their mouths together in a passionate kiss filled with relief and joy and solace and gratitude, all wrapped up in his abiding love. As on the first night they met, Elladan reached up for those hands, but this time he held them tight, never wanting them removed from him, returning the kiss with all the heat he could manufacture, well aware of the promise to be fulfilled. They parted, eyes shining and lips smiling, and set about disrobing one another, yet only got as far as open tunics before Maglor revealed that he had anticipated this outcome. Gently he lured Elladan deeper into the cavern with light, tempting kisses and seductive touches, tugging him by the nipples to a dimly lit alcove wherein a nest of cushions and silken sheets awaited them.

With a gleeful shout he leaped backwards and fell into the soft heap, laughing as he extricated himself from his tunic and tossed it playfully at Elladan. The next second he gave out a loud, surprised cry as the younger elf pounced, landing squarely atop his chest and driving all the air from him. While he struggled to catch his breath, Elladan stripped off his lover's boots and had the leggings nearly untied. That would not do; Maglor wanted to control this experience and his virgin lover was too eager by far.

"Patience!" he said stridently, bucking Elladan off him and snatching him around the waist. He threw him over and pinned him down amid the pillows, smiling down into the flushed countenance. He pulled Elladan's arms up and gathered the wrists in one hand, smiling as Elladan's tunic gaped wide. He bent down and nipped at one tight brown nipple and lapped its twin.

"Ai, no, saes," pleaded Elladan. "No teasing."

"I am not teasing," Maglor said gravely. He traced around the rosy aureole of one hard nub, watching as Elladan pressed into the touch. "I have this all planned out and will not abide any interference."

He pinched the tender node and then kissed it, rolling his tongue over it. Then he sucked for a time enjoying the taste of Elladan's skin, exulting as the body beneath him writhed and rubbed most enticingly against his. He shifted to the other nipple and applied the same treatment and all the while his free hand petted and caressed the muscular planes and valleys of his beloved's magnificent physique. Elladan had a warrior's body, hard and well defined, yet he was so soft and sensitive in certain places that the contrast itself was beguiling. He finally gave up the maroon points and settled higher, tonguing Elladan's ear so that he groaned and twitched, desperate to get their cocks in communion, but Maglor would not permit it.

"Interference?" complained Elladan. "Am I not to have any say over this? I would touch you as well." He could have worked his hands free but was reluctant to challenge Maglor.

"Nay. Not this time." Maglor smiled serenely and suddenly let him go. "Everything off, I need complete, unrestrained access to every bit of you."

He sat back and peeled off his leggings, laughing as a dark head pushed into his lap and a sweet, hot mouth enveloped his erection. Elladan sucked him voraciously and he pushed deep into the willing maw.

"Ai, Elladan, you do that so well." He leaned back and watched, hand smoothing over the ebony crown as he was suckled and nipped and lapped with gusto. It was tempting to empty his testes into that warm, wet cavity, but Maglor had other plans. Still, he was experienced and had no difficulty holding back, thoroughly enjoying Elladan's efforts to bring him to orgasm. Finally, he took a handful of black hair and pulled the gluttonous mouth off his penis.

"Why did you stop me?" Elladan rubbed his sore head, unable to keep his eyes on Maglor's face as that gloriously virile form was right there in front of him, just begging to be caressed and kissed and shamelessly fucked.
"Valar, you are so disobedient. DId I not say to strip?" Maglor scolded. Not waiting to be obeyed, he yanked the half-open tunic off and shoved Elladan onto his back. He lay there quite docile and submissive, just waiting for whatever Maglor wished to do to him, dark eyes shining in eager anticipation, so ready to be taken. The singer felt a thrill go through him, for while this time would be a fairly conservative coupling, Elladan's compliant posture promised erotic deviance was in their future. He eyed the rigid bulge that stretched the leather leggings and deftly stroked the confined flesh, grinning when his lover thrust up into the touch.

"What have we here?" he snickered. "Doesn't look very comfortable. Perhaps these ties are too tight, hmmm?"

"Ai, Maglor, saes, just get them off."

"You are entirely too bossy. Who is Lord here in Himring Castle?" he asked, half in jest but also utterly serious, and gave Elladan a light slap on the cheek.

Elladan gasped and went still, eyes wide and dark. "You are, Hîren," he whispered, breath ragged and heart pounding.

"Excellent." Maglor rewarded him with a searing kiss during which he untied the laces and parted the soft supple garment. He sat back and watched as Elladan involuntarily flexed his hips and the hard shaft slowly found its way out. He inspected it carefully, taking it up and then pulling to make it stand straight out, holding it thus with the tip of his finger pressed against the very pinnacle. Elladan moaned and squirmed under the pressure of that single digit.

"You are longer than I remember, more slender. I like it."

"So glad you approve," Elladan huffed out, excited and impatient. "I hope you plan to do more than stare…AI!"

The minstrel's other hand, ignored and thus free to do as its owner would have it, had just burrowed inside the pants and seized his balls. It hurt in the most exquisite way and he lay sprawled out, gasping as those hands held him captive and tortured him with delicate precision, rubbing the tip of his cock, rolling the tender testicles.

"You keep using that insolent and demanding tone," mused Maglor, stroking the florid erection slowly, watching the skin slide over the hot column of engorged flesh, "and I'll have to punish you. I can make this go on for a very, very long time."

"Oh, please!" Elladan drew the word out in a trembling, pleading, breathless moan, for Maglor chose that moment to straddle him, cock to cock, and ground against him with maddeningly glorious friction, straining forward to capture one of his ears, sucking it avidly. Deciding two could play, he reached for a firm arse-cheek and grabbed a handful of flesh while slipping his head beneath one of the strong arms and nuzzling a dark maroon nipple. He bit the luscious skin and pulled a bit, only to let go at once as his ear received a much sharper bite that left him shaking, hot spiky flares of delight racing over his entire body.

"You beg so earnestly it makes me want to give in." Maglor lifted off him and took a firm grip on the waist of the leggings, dragging them down with such force that Elladan was pulled half-way to the floor. "Now, those are entirely too tight if it's that hard to get them off you," stated Maglor. They both giggled, Elladan scooting back into the midst of the plush mound, blatantly displaying his arousal as he went, legs wide and inviting.

"It isn't the pants it's these slippery sheets," he defended his choice in clothing valiantly.

"Too slippery? Obviously you haven't thought enough about the possibilities inherent in that quality," drawled Maglor, taking up a corner of the fabric and wrapping it around Elladan's shaft, enclosed both in his fist, letting the soft, silky cloth glide over the sensitised skin as he vigourously stroked the hidden organ, bringing his love right to the brink before tearing away the cover and at once snatching Elladan's grasping hands, preventing him from finishing the stimulation himself. He watched as the hips rose off the fluffy bedding and the straining penis fucked the empty air. "Ai Valar, you want it so, you wanton thing," he chided. "But I am in control."

"So you keep saying," growled Elladan, managing to get an arm free and making a grab for the ruddy erection peeking out between Maglor's legs.

Maglor deflected this attempt easily by claiming another deep kiss and straddling Elladan's thighs. He perched provocatively above the hard, hot, roll beneath his arse and wiggled it deep into the cleft as Elladan groaned down his throat in ecstatic misery.

"Valar, you're so eager, Elladan, you're going to come the instant I enter you," complained Maglor.

"When do you think that will be?"

"Tomorrow at dawn."

"What? That isn't funny," Elladan tried shifting his hips to make his cock rub against the warm flesh enveloping it, but Maglor's weight prevented him from doing much. The minstrel clenched his gluteal muscles and gave a little push with his bottom and Elladan began to wonder if he might come just so. At once he became alarmed, for he did not want another coupling to end with mutual but separate gratification. "Maglor!" he implored with real distress. "Not like this, saes. You know what I need."

"Hush, it is what I need, too," Maglor crooned, smitten all over again by this desperate plea for their union. "I shouldn't have teased you." He slid off and lay beside Elladan, holding him close, letting their legs and cocks get all entwined. Elladan rocked against him urgently, trying to stimulate them both. "I would have you now, but I don't want to rush it. I want to enjoy this, relish it."

"But I cannot wait," mourned Elladan. "I have been waiting a very long time."

"Have you?" He examined the frustrated expression filling the stormy grey eyes and smiled gently, kissing the hungry mouth that practically devoured his tongue, extricating it with care and many small kisses along the way, forestalling another grab at his erection. He ran a hand over the glossy black locks and hummed a soothing tune so that Elladan calmed. "I suppose for you it must seem so. Even though your years are few in number, they represent your entire life." He smiled in exultation. "So, you have been waiting your whole life for me. I wonder if you realise how erotic that is."

"Apparently, not erotic enough," griped Elladan. They had pleasured one another many times and while he enjoyed the intricate varieties of foreplay Maglor invented, now that there was nothing standing in the way of their joining, he would have it. "Have never wanted anything so much," he wailed softly.

"Be at peace," murmured Maglor, fascinated by such ardour, recalling the near terror that had gripped Elros on their first joining all those years ago.

The twin's Coll o Gwaith (Coming of Age) had been the occasion and then it had been Maglor so eager and impatient. The experience had been intense but ultimately the fear overshadowed Elros' joy and it wasn't until their third of fourth coupling that he'd begun to really crave the sensation. Suddenly he got up and stepped beyond the light into the shadows of the cave.

"Maglor?" Elladan was on his feet in seconds, worried about this development for the singer's gaze had taken him far away from their lover's nest and that was dangerous. No answer came. Had they come this close only to end apart? His heart gave a huge lurching beat; had his lie been discovered? "Do you not want me after all?" he called, fear and anguish colouring his words. "Are you playing with me, punishing me for not being…"

Maglor did not let him finish, returning in a flash, silencing the bitter words with a deep, lingering kiss, refusing to let Elladan break away, snatching up his cock and pumping to subdue him, caressing his ears and plucking his nipples to heighten his excitement. He tore his mouth free and met the stunned visage, eyes alight with fiery passion, with equal fire.

"Be calm; I merely went to get something vital to this process." He grinned a wicked grin and held up a small flask of pale golden liquid as he casually hooked his foot behind Elladan's knees and jerked, sending him down hard save that the nest of pillows received him gently.

A curse escaped Elladan's lips and he immediately made to rise, determined to be taken as an equal, but a naked foot thumped him soundly on the chest and pushed him down, the weight of the elder elf holding him fast. His gaze travelled up the bent leg to its crux where the long red shaft stood proudly poised, dripping and ready. He swallowed, eyes continuing up the powerful body looming over him and he had no doubt that Maglor could indeed master him utterly. The idea excited him and his lips parted as he panted in expectation. Finally his vision connected with the singer's and they shared unspoken consent. With slow, deliberate movements Maglor uncapped the vial, poured the contents into his palm, and liberally rubbed the shimmering oil over his cock, working it slowly from root to crown in silent promise to fuck him well.

Elladan emitted a strangled plea, unable to even beg any longer, and almost at once Maglor fell upon him, flipping him over so that his face pressed down into the bedding. The heavy heat of the singer's rigid erection pressed tight against his rear. Instantly he yielded, quaking as slickened fingers probed him, digging in and spreading him. He moaned softly as Maglor shifted, positioning his cock at his entrance and holding it there. The tip of the penis poked him, felt enormous, wet and slick, and he gasped, staring over his shoulder as the pressure built. Maglor met his gaze and breached him with a strong thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt.

The pain was swift and hot like fire whittling him out and filling him up at the same time. Elladan gave a croaking cry of protest, struggled against it, couldn't get his mind past the realisation that he had Maglor's cock in him, the massive male organ impaling him, stretching him, owning him. A low, rumbling growl arose from behind him and the weight and power of the muscular body covered him, bearing Elladan down. Hands whisked the hair from his face and jerked his chin rearward; he was kissed passionately as the huge penis moved, pulling out and ramming him with incredible potency. The kiss broke as Maglor howled in ecstasy.

"Ai, Elros, Valar!"

He gripped the angular hips presented before him and pulled all the way out, wanting to watch as he inserted his cock back inside that tight virgin arse, impatiently shushing his beloved's plaintive complaint. He eased the shaft in slowly, slowly, moaning as the inexorable suction gripped it powerfully and drew him in, looking up to find Elladan's head bowed low as tremors rippled through his shoulders. With a glorious shout he pulled against the muscles holding him and shook with the sensation as every centimetre of his cock was enveloped in the tight compressing warmth.

"Valar I have wanted to fuck you for so long," he gasped out, setting to with vigour and great relish, rolling his hips on each penetration and watching avidly as Elros squirmed and bucked, first trying to get free and then eagerly started to push back. Maglor smiled, heart soaring; Elros was screaming his name over and over. It had never been this good, never, and the thought drove him to greater efforts, striving to stroke his lover's core with every thrust. He was going to spill in this incredible, unique, miraculous elf and possess him forever.

Elladan was lost, caught between the searing invasion and its swift jabs of scintillating, enervating light and the misery of hearing his beloved call out his uncle's name at this pivotal moment when they would be bound heart and soul. He wanted to make him stop but at the same time feared to; he could not lose this elf, not ever. It must be true; he must be Elros; he could be Elros. He would be Elros or whatever Maglor wanted, needed, or demanded of him; he would give anything, everything to get this love in return.

The cock driving into him was relentless, fucking him so hard he was seeing stars, spearing him with such exacting precision that Elladan struggled to maintain coherence. The sensation escalated to frenzied levels of anxious anticipation; he was about to come, felt the yearning, aching need gathering tight in his loins, but before he could give in a fearsome roar blasted his ears and a quick jet of warmth liquid coated him. His mind reeled as Maglor injected him with seed, exuberantly calling out Elros' name in love and triumph, exhilaration spurring the penis to delve deeper still and with more three potent lunges sent Elladan toppling into resplendent delirium. The very sun exploded somewhere near his heart and set him afire, transforming him into golden radiance, just like the living presence of the Silmaril.

When the light and the pounding ecstasy settled back into normal space and time, Elladan found himself cuddled tight against Maglor's heart, just as they always ended, the minstrel whispering his name over and over, awe and wonder in his voice as if the syllables were a mantra that would save his soul. He began singing, as he always did, never realising which name he'd been speaking or how much it hurt his chosen one. Yet Elladan could say nothing, for was this not the fate he'd chosen, freely and with his eyes wide open?

Elladan stood before the altar, gazing at the glorious white stone as his mate, exhausted at last from their ardent lovemaking, lay drifting in deep slumber. Maglor had taken him twice, teasing and toying with his body, making it do and feel things he'd not imagined possible, bringing him to such a paradise of elation and completion that he could not regret his choice. Even now his body sang with tingling delight, though he was rather sore in places he had not previously thought possible to bruise. It was nothing; he loved the renowned minstrel and was loved in return. What did it matter if Maglor believed he was Elros? With time he would make him understand and all would be well, everything would be forgiven. Once completely healed of his grief, Maglor would see him for himself, Elladan of Imladris, and love him still.

That, he knew beyond doubt, was what he wanted. He did not want to hear his beloved call out for his long dead uncle during their lovemaking. He did not want to hear the constant references to events from a past so distant he could not even imagine it. How to achieve this, that was Elladan's quandary and the puzzle would not let him rest, not yet. He had risen to peer at the magnificent creation of living light, deeply enthralled by its potent beauty, lost in its manifold planes and prisms. He let his soul wander freely there and poured out his troubles, encouraged by the pure, bright light, certain the SIlmaril knew the truth about him but still wanted him, needed him as it needed Maglor.

Therein lay his hope, for surely the gem would help him know what was right to do, guide him properly so that he would not lose Maglor and yet manage to clear his conscience. The stone soothed and placated and, when he took it up, showed him scenes of the life he had chosen, and he found it comforting and his heart eased. Within the images a persistent thought flickered into his awareness, a notion spawned by the gem itself, and he latched onto it and to it he would hold tenaciously in the days ahead: a year. He would give the gem a year to heal the noble singer, using his love to do it. After that he would reveal all, make him understand, and suffer the consequences, whatever they might be.

It was noble and good, what he was doing. The Silmaril must be guarded, its sanctifying grace vital to the remaking of Arda when the time came and the Last Battle ravaged the world. Maglor had been chosen to do that but now his grieving heart could stand no more; he could not do it alone. Elros could never be returned to him, not with all the powers of the Valar combined, but Elladan could love him and love him better. He would find a way to make it work between them, not only for the sake of his captive heart, but for Maglor and for all those innocents who had given their lives for this pretty pebble.

Still naked, he left the chamber and ascended the stairs, finding his way to Maglor's study. There he penned a hasty note to Arantar, sealed it, and returned to Maglor, rousing him. Whatever lies he must live with, he would not act in secret behind his mate's back. If Maglor wondered about his reasons for sending a missive so suddenly, he never had chance to voice them for Elladan gave a full accounting that left nothing hidden. Except, of course, the reason for the subterfuge.

"I've become a liar," he said quietly, "but I don't care. I believe, firmly believe, that within a year this is going to be healed, this fractured life we share. If I am to be your mate, I will find a way to win your forgiveness from my people. I will not hide you forever; you are part of me."

"Forever is a long time," sighed Maglor, "but I understand you. I will not stand in your way. If you think you can effect this pardon, I would welcome it. I would have your parents' approval and permission, if possible."

"This note is not to them," explained Elladan. "It is too soon for that. I write to Arantar, bidding him lie for me. I need more time."

"And who is this elf that would so easily sully his honour for you?" Maglor demanded, jealousy suddenly making him possessive and he reached for Elladan's slack penis, fondling it and pulling on it to draw his newly bound mate to him, crushing their lips in a claiming kiss.

Elladan came away smiling and besotted with pride, shaking his head. "Not an elf, but a kinsman. One of the many progeny of Tar Minyatur. Arantar fostered at Imladris, as have all the King's heirs, and is my foster brother."

"As well as your grandchild removed by many generations? Extraordinary," Maglor remarked and played with Elladan's rising cock, eager to get back inside him, and summoned an Avarin page. Judiciously standing in front of Elladan's arousal, he bade the servant carry the letter to one of the messengers across the small harbour. That they were both naked and sporting sprouting penises did not seem to phase the elf in the least. In fact, he gave them both a thorough appraisal, leaning sideways so to scrutinise his master's new lover, and smiled a discrete invitation that made Elladan's jaw drop.

"What?" Maglor asked, seeing his aghast expression. "You didn't think I remained celibate for four thousand years, did you?"

Another winding staircase. This time they ascended on steps carpeted in thick wool died a deep, rich red, steadied weary bodies on the handrail finished in polished brass. The graceful open spiral arose from the main entrance to the castle, now permanently sealed: an oval rotunda tiled in marble and panelled in teak between pillars of granite, the windows barred behind ornate wrought iron over more stained glass, the scenes depicting events that were meaningless to anyone who had never lived in the Blessed Realm. Bright afternoon sunlight painted the stone with a mosaic of colour and warmth. Arms draped around waists, pressed close side by side and temple to temple, the lovers moved in step trailing the Avarin page. Elladan had insisted first on an introduction to the boldly insolent servant and then on retrieving his leggings from the cavern, not entirely comfortable with being ogled by D'râk (Wolf). Maglor submitted to covering his lower half in sympathy with his beloved. They climbed two stories to a landing that deposited them at the centre of a long, broad hall, doors opening here and there on either side, and Maglor bent to kiss Elladan lightly, smiling.

"D'râk will show you to your rooms, beloved."

"I have rooms? Where are yours?"

"Just at the end of the corridor. You may join me there but go and see the suite prepared for you first."

Maglor's eyes were shining with such anticipation there could be no doubt he had readied this apartment with great attention and hoped to please his new mate. Elladan could do no less than smile and accept the gift, though he was a little disconcerted to be so suddenly parted from his lover so soon after their bonding. He followed D'râk and the page was smiling with nearly the same conspiratorial glee; obviously a mutual effort, then, to install him in a manner which would be to his liking, but Elladan felt a bit disoriented by it all. What he really wanted was to curl up beside Maglor and rest for a time, then make love again and maybe have a bath.

"Here, Eldâ-Târa-khil Ndêro, the key," D'râk said, voice friendly enough but his eyes roved avidly over Elladan's chest, noting each love-bite his master had left there.

"A key?" Elladan frowned, taking it: a huge ornate brass instrument with a great red tassel hanging from its filigreed end. He was surprised but the servant's blatant interest disturbed him more and he decided it was time to address both issues. It was imperative to make his position plain to D'râk. "Do I need to lock my rooms here? And what did you call me just now? I will not have nicknames or pet-names from anyone, unless Maglor wants to give me one."

"Ah, bâ! Nay!" D'râk bowed deeply, face crimson. "No need to lock things here, no need. B'rôna Kâno has kept it so until now. Only to clean, I go inside. The name is your name: Elf-man and title of honour for this day only: bridegroom. I ask forgiveness; it is just that B'rôna Kâno has said you liked, used to like, in the past, for more attention than he could give sometimes. He was not always well in those days, so I am told. I was not born then."

Elladan's brows went high. "By attention do you mean sex?" he demanded, and at the servant's nod of assent his cheeks coloured. "And are you meant to supply that extra attention to me?" Another dip of the head, D'râk plainly upset to have given offence and equally disappointed to have the idea voiced in such strident and disapproving tones. "That is not to be," stated Elladan succinctly. "Maglor is fine and strong now; your assistance will not be required. And I can clean my own room and have been able to dress myself without aid since I was two," he added for good measure, just in case D'râk planned on hovering near and leering at him whilst performing these domestic chores. "And I will be called by my right name, which is Elladan."

"Aye, Hîren," D'râk could not meet the young Lord's eyes, worried now that he had displeased his master's new mate. B'rôna Kâno's wrath was never slight or short-lived, once awakened. "I am sorry."

"Aye, well then, that is settled," Elladan grumbled as he fit the key into the lock and turned it. A new thought occurred to him. "Are you in the habit of giving such attention to your master?"

The poor page would have rather been tossed out the window than answer and visibly shrank away, giving the faintest of nods and raising terrified eyes for the briefest of glances. "Not for many months, though," he assured, "not since you came back."

"That is a wise answer, D'râk," intoned Elladan sourly and pushed open the door.

He stepped over the threshold and froze, a gasp leaving his lungs as he took in the sitting room of the suite. It was opulent in a manner he had never beheld except in paintings, renderings of the homes of the Noldorin Princes during the First-age. The space was bright and more than ample with a high ceiling and tall windows. The furnishings were heavy in dark wood, lavishly ornamented with gracefully turned legs, artfully carved relief, decadently soft upholstery, beaded and embroidered and embellished. The rugs were thick and expertly crafted, the detailed scenes of hunting and forest life masterful, the tasselled fringe in creamy white silk. Paintings adorned the walls, landscapes of the area and one of Hithaeglir, many of the sea, wild and violent under a lead-coloured sky. One was a portrait and at first Elladan mistook the two elves for himself and his brother, realising as soon as his feet had carried him closer that it had to be his father and uncle instead. An uneasy feeling assailed his stomach and he turned from it abruptly. He could not tell one from the other.

There was a desk and he went to it, finding the padded leather surface unmarred, tooled in gilt scrollwork around its borders, a standard inkwell and quills ready for use. A brass seal stood beside a fresh stick of wax and he reached for it, turning it to see, dreading what he would find. He blinked; they were his initials, his seal: double E's beneath the crest of the House of Eärendil. Heart pounding, he set it back down and backed away. They all had the same initials, the same seal, all of them: him, his brother, his father, and his uncle. How was anyone to tell one from the other? How was he?

D'râk was babbling happily over the amenities of the apartment and Elladan crossed to him at the fireplace, disregarding his words as he looked over the objects on the mantle: a hunting horn, a small penknife, a leather pouch crossed by a smoking pipe. With an inarticulate exclamation he took it up the briar wood bowl, examining the interior to find it stained dark with a fine varnish of charred carbon, the result of frequent use.

"Just as you left it, except the leaf in the pouch is fresh, of course. B'rôna Kâno has me replace it every week without fail. How wise he is!" D'râk remarked, smiling to see the young master's stunned amazement in finding his belongings intact and so well cared for.

Elladan stared at him, incredulous, and put the pipe back, hands shaking.
A cold chill ran down his spine and he hastened from the hearth, almost running for the inner door, throwing it wide to enter a sun-bright sleeping room, a massive canopy bed draped in royal purple velvet dominating the space. The mattress was covered with a white silk counterpane embroidered in golden threads and the pillows propped against the headboard proudly displayed the colourful crest of the Mariner's House.

He was in Elros' suite.

Clothes were laid out at the foot of the bed: a long, beltless robe of midnight blue satin, soft black silk trousers, no shirt or shoes. A dressing table held combs and brushes and a mirror; Elladan had the bizarre notion that if he went and looked into it, he would not see his own face but that of Elros. The idea seized his mind and became a certainty. Panicked, he backed out of the room, stomach rolling with nausea, head pounding with the sound of his racing pulse.

He gave a hoarse cry and fled the apartment, making it to the railed balcony overlooking the stairwell. Gripping it tight he groaned, leaning over as he fought the urge to vomit. He was dimly aware of D'râk tearing past him down the hall, shouting for his master, and seconds later Maglor was there.

"Elladan! Beloved?" Concerned and frightened, he wrapped his arms around Elladan and drew him from the banister. He attempted to move toward the suite just exited but his lover balked.

"Death!" Elladan gasped out, eyes bulging in horror. "Why did you give me those rooms? It is another museum, a room filled with his things, with only the past where everything is dead, all turned to dust Ages ago. I cannot bear it!" he railed, clutching the minstrel's long black tresses.

"Aye, Elros!" Maglor gathered him close, distraught for he had not thought this would be the result of his gesture. He had hoped the sight of the rooms, carefully and lovingly preserved for all this time, would stand as a testament to his unfailing love and devotion. Instead it represented a choice rejected, and obviously feared, in this life. He drew a sharp breath. ~Perhaps in the first one, too. Did I drive him to so bleak a decision?~ "I did not mean for this to be upsetting; it was meant to honour you."

"I just want to stay with you; can I not abide in your rooms? Do you not want me there?" Elladan felt like his world was coming apart and just knew, without any doubt, that if he slept in that suite he truly would awaken as Elros. The idea terrified him for already his identity, never quite so solid in the first place, seemed to be slipping away. "I don't want to be him!" he wailed, burying his face against the warmth of a firm chest where a strong heart beat a frantic, anxious pace. "I just want to be Elladan, please. Can't you love me as Elladan?" He lifted imploring eyes and was immediately answered, his lips covered and caressed with loving tenderness. He opened for them and welcomed the distraction of Maglor's able tongue.

"I do love you, Elladan," the minstrel insisted, peering into the wild, anguished eyes, imparting all the sincerity his heart held into the simple words. "Come, you will stay with me; there is plenty of room. It will be my joy to keep you there." Gently he propelled his new mate down the hall, worried for he was still more or less holding him up. He motioned to D'râk. "Bring his clothing; add it to my wardrobe."

"Valar! I will not wear those things!" Elladan sought to twist free from his lover's hold but was quickly caught fast and willingly submitted, too exhausted to fight.

"Nay, the clothing is all newly made. I commissioned the tailors in Lindon for a new wardrobe for you. Please, they are for you, made for you just weeks ago. Nothing is from the First-age or your previous life with me," he reassured, coaxing his lover back into motion, smiling kindly as he tried a light joke. "Besides, all your old clothes would be out of style now. I couldn't very well have that."

Elladan stared at him a second and then relaxed, the weak comedy finally making it through his addled brain. Next he flushed in chagrin, thinking of the display he'd just put on, and mentally winced to think of the servant observing his breakdown. Well, perhaps it was best this way; now Maglor must know the truth and would have to either accept him or reject him. A sharp stab of fear assailed his heart and he clutched tighter to the arm supporting him, afraid now to force the subject lest the latter be his lot.

By now they had passed through Maglor's sitting room and entered the bedchamber. Elladan sat hard on the cushiony mattress and buried his head in his hands, a low moan escaping him. Callused fingertips massaged his neck and shoulders, a sweet voice began singing, and at last he calmed, breathing in deeply and finding the air filled with the scent of his beloved. He raised his head and offered a sheepish grin.

"I dare say I acted rather like a fool just now," he began.

"Nay. I was wrong to try and make you stay there. I know how much it bothers you to compare your life now to then, for nothing remains in your memory of those early days. Can you forgive me?" Maglor knelt on the floor in front of his new husband and as was his habit, took up one of Elladan's hands, pressing it between his own.

"There is nothing to forgive," insisted Elladan, guilt gathering around his agitated soul.

"You are generous in spirit," spoke Maglor, leaning in for a quick peck on the cheek, "and I want to prove that I can do this right. There is something missing which our union ordains we should have. I did not ask you before, Elladan, but would you consent to wear my ring?"

Elladan's eyes brightened, for here at last was proof that their bond was real and it was to him the singer's soul was bound. Then his happy smile faltered. "It isn't the same…"

"No, pen vain," Maglor interrupted, a peculiar look in his eyes as he studied Elladan. "You would not have one before, though I offered, for you had not yet made your choice, mankind or elf-kind. What say you now?"

"But was it made for him, then, or for me, now?" came Elladan's querulous demand, staring into his husband's unreadable expression.

"Valar, the things you say! You are he; he is you. I have had them a long time, yes, I freely admit it. Does this mean you will refuse me again?"

"No," said Elladan, horrified that he had almost turned aside his beloved's token of fidelity. "I will wear it gladly and with pride, but let me see it. If his name is there…"

"Ai! No, there is just the traditional inscription: Uir (Eternity)." Maglor rose and went to his dressing table, opening a drawer and retrieving a small leather-clad box. He brought it to Elladan and set it in his hands. "Look and see if that is to your liking, my skittish heart-mate. Mind you, we are already bound forever whether you will wear it or no."

That made Elladan feel much better and he smiled. Yes, they were mated and would be for all time. Maglor could not reject him now. He opened the box, prepared to see a wide golden band, plain and unadorned, and instead caught his breath, for the article was indeed created from the precious yellow metal, but plain could never be used to describe it. The wedding ring was intricately carved in a swirling pattern of open-work that recalled the curling crests of breaking waves, a dusting of glimmer and shine coating the rigid curves, gleaming like the dust of diamonds, the sparkle and flash too similar to the living light enshrined below to be anything else. Elladan turned it fully and then tipped it to see the engraving, smiling over it. He raised exultant eyes to his husband's and held it out to him.

"Put it on me," he insisted, holding forth his right hand, heart swelling with unbounded jubilation as Maglor slipped it over his index finger and settled it snugly behind his knuckle. The fit was perfect and he could not take his eyes from it until the singer lifted his chin and demanded a kiss to seal the moment.

"We are one," Maglor whispered, devotion and exhilaration filling his ancient eyes as he drank in Elladan's euphoric expression.

"Aye, we are one," answered Elladan, taking up the box again for in it was a matching band for Maglor and this he passed over the minstrel's right index finger as well, hand trembling somewhat as the metal slid over the long, elegant digit, seating easily in the correct place. It winked and gleamed at him and he laughed, truly happy and at ease, and boldly claimed his husband's mouth, pressing him down to lie upon the bed, eager to replay the moment of their union, this time demanding the dominant role.
Maglor permitted this, submitting to all Elladan wished to do, and enjoyed immensely the eagerness with which he was disrobed, the skill with which he was primed for penetration, Elladan rolling him to his side and laving his anal opening with his tongue, bathing the sensitive skin with the sweetest kisses, probing with a tightly rolled tongue-tip, spearing into the tight canal repeatedly with the red oral muscle, pushing it as far as he could extend it, which was far enough to impress the singer. The only thing he did of his own accord was to remove Elladan's leggings and drag the ellon's body closer to him so that he could suck and lap his mate's erection, making sure it was slick and wet.

The moment of penetration was deeply moving for them both, with Elladan reaching up to entwine his fingers with Maglor's, wonder and awe filling the grey eyes he trained upon the singer. They were quiet but for the deep and regular respiration the strenuous exercise required, Elladan almost leaping forward as soon as the hot tip of his shaft met the wet, puckered hole, boring in with steady, careful force, watching for any signs of distress, grinning hugely as he found only encouragement and passionate impatience displayed on his husband's face.

When his second thrust struck Maglor's prostate precisely, both became lost in the sensation, the singer massaging his mate's ears whenever they came within reach, Elladan straining to kiss and lick as much of the glorious body beneath him he could. Delighted to find his husband so responsive and so compliant, Elladan worked to make the experience the best the elder elf had yet enjoyed in all the Ages of time he'd thus far been alive. He was able to draw out the coupling, his pace slow and regular, his technique skilled but not practised, adjusted with every motion to his lover's somatic cues, missing not a tremble or a twinge, a sigh or a moan.

As he neared the fiery peak of the joining he groped for Maglor's cock and found the minstrel's fingers already coaxing the instrument toward their finale. Smiling, he wrapped his own around them and together they stroked the long erection to spurting fruition, Maglor groaning deeply, eyes rolling shut as the orgasm rolled through him. It was more than enough to bring Elladan to cataclysmic completion, frantically thrusting as his seed poured into the clenching bowels, crying out Maglor's name. He collapsed atop his mate in limp, ecstatic fulfilment, sucking in great heaving breaths, and smiled as he kissed the equally struggling breast beneath his cheek.

"Valar, I love you," he said, extracting his exhausted organ as he rolled to spoon up beside his beloved, throwing an arm over the hard belly, not caring at all about the sticky residue of passion smeared across it.

"That is good, since I've been in love with you since the first time I beheld you on the beach that night. Ai, Elladan, you love me truly this time," sighed Maglor, absolutely sated and content. He caressed the dark head resting on his shoulder and grinned as Elladan fairly glowed with pride to have his prowess extolled. "You have done that before," remarked the minstrel.

"Aye," Elladan gave a self-conscious shrug, blushing. "Not often, though."

"That was obvious, but not in an unwelcome way," assured Maglor, "and yet during those previous encounters, never would you submit? Why so?"

"I cannot say," Elladan smoothed his hand over the curve of the pectoral opposite his face, testing the resilience of the dark red nipple. "I never wanted that before. In fact, the idea of penetration, of being possessed, appalled me. There is only one person, besides you, I would trust on that level and with him I wanted it. But he…" Elladan broke off, uncertain how this would be taken, wanting to speak of it, and was surprised when Maglor supplied all the details himself.

"Ai! History repeats: 'twas your brother. He rejected you as before, no doubt with equal scorn and disgust for he abhors the kind of love we crave and would find intimacy of that nature between blood so close an abomination." He sighed and pulled Elladan into a tight embrace. "He hurt you again, just like before."

"He said he didn't know me, that I was not his brother."

"I would punish him were he here; I will punish him if ever we meet again," growled Maglor.

"You are not disgusted?" Elladan lifted anxious eyes to study the grimacing face.

"Of course not. I had twin brothers, remember. They shared many lovers between them, but truly only trusted and loved one another. I am certain they were bound soul to soul, though they never spoke of such."

"Valar." Elladan was glad for another example, relieved not to be the only one ever to have desired such a union. He sighed and snuggled closer. "But Muindoren reacted in anger and shock, for I was trying to win him from his beloved, a fine Lady who truly does hold his heart. I think his words arose from his anguish over that as much as from disgust for what I asked of him."

"You always defend him, no matter how harsh his words or unwarranted his punishments. There will be no more of that now that you are mine. He encouraged you to choose the Gift of Men, told you he would rather see you dead than know you were my mate. I blame him for all that happened, for that put the idea in your head, and when the first troubles came between us, you reacted impulsively, as is your nature, but the consequences were permanent." He shifted to better see Elladan's eyes and judge how this speech was being received, grateful to find distress but not panic and terror. "You are still impulsive, but I have seen signs of restraint and reflection. Perhaps he is better as a father than a brother."

"Adar is very strict," Elladan was abruptly struck by the mismatch in their conversation, realising with cold fatalism that he had just led Maglor to believe he'd sought to couple with his own father, yet could not bring himself to declare the truth. "He despises the kind of love I need and calls it immoral and degenerate." He paused. "Nay, I must attribute any improvement in my mastery of patience and thoughtful consideration to my tutor and mentor, Lord Erestor."

Maglor's eyes grew wide and he smiled with wonder and what could only be proud delight. "Erestor had the raising of you?" he laughed, long and loud and rolled over atop Elladan, kissing him playfully all down his neck and over his face. "Eru is just and has an apt sense of humour, then. There is none better, no other would take such care to prepare for me the perfect mate."

"You know Erestor?"

"Aye, my dear young husband, I know him well. He is my son."

TBC soon

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
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Barad-en-Elei (Fortress of Dreams)