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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
“No.” Cerályië stated as he pushed himself up from behind his desk. “I much prefer that we not to be seen.” He said as he began pacing in front of the hearth in his study.
“If they’re lucky, small groups on foot might have a chance at moving through the forest, but a caravan would surely draw the attention of the shelob (spiders) as well as their patrols.” The commander stated, his tone was heavy with frustration as he tried to reason with the Lord of the Keep. “They are on edge as it is. We cannot risk being stopped and searched or worse taken prisoner. These elves are not like their kin, they don’t take kindly to trespassers.”
“We are not going through the forest.” Cerályië replied firmly without looking at him, folding his arms across his chest as he continued to pace. “We head south east to Eregion, there is area for most of the main caravan to camp once we reach the Hollin Pass. I only need a couple of guards to go with me. It is safer to leave him just north of Drimmill Dale. It’s populated by humans and close enough to Lórinand they can get him there.”
“The journey will take twice as long.” The commander stated, his frown deepening as he watched his frustration grow as he continued his pacing. “And you have no way of knowing how long it will take before anyone comes along to find him. There has to be another way.”
“I’ll think of something but I cannot go near Lórinand!” Cerályië exclaimed angrily as he stopped his pacing to turn and face him. “The evil in Dol Guldur may help disguise my powers from the Vanyar but I’m not willing to risk it. I will draw enough attention from the necromancer as it is and I don’t want to put us in any more danger than absolutely necessary.”
“Then I suggest we send the main caravan in the morning.” Elaéyadär stated cautiously as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “They can take the same route through the pass and wait for us once they reach the Field of Celebrant.”
“I would prefer you take charge of the main caravan and continue on without waiting. It is more important that you and the larger force are with the coffers to see that it arrives safely.” Cerályië stated as he sank down into the chair opposite him in front the hearth. “I only need my personal guards as an escort. I will follow in two days, Daedalus and Odhrán can drive the wagons.”
“I don’t like it but I can live with it.” The commander sighed heavily as he pushed himself to his feet tiredly. “If you have nothing further, I will inform the captains of the change in plans and see you the morning before we depart.”
“That’s all Elaéyadär.” Cerályië relied, smiling slightly. “I don’t mean to be so...”
“I understand.” He shook his head as he held up his hand to forestall any further comment. “We are all anxious but it will be over soon.”
Nodding in silence Cerályië watched him leave before turning his attention to the flames in the hearth. Frowning slightly as he felt sadness at their impending departure, Fornost and this keep had been his home for almost four thousand years. Leaving it was proving to be harder than he thought it would be yet he knew he could no longer remain as he was endangering the lives of innocent people. He could feel the stirring of changes in the world as the evil in Dol Guldur grew, drawing its power from Mordor. Other necromancers had begun to eye the Ettenmoors and Carn Dûm once again and his powers would only draw their attention to the villages.
“Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) The servant spoke softly as he entered the Masters study. “You asked to be reminded of the evening meal.”
“Yes I did didn’t I.” He chuckled as he rose to his feet. “Thank you Nhaéslal.” He said as he walked toward him.
“Hîr vuin?” (My Lord) Nhaéslal asked quietly, touching the Masters’ elbow gently as he started to walk past him.
“What is it Nhaéslal?” He asked softly, frowning as he turned and looked into the servants imploring eyes, now dark green with concern and worry.
“What about Säévÿl and myself?” His voice trembled slightly as he stared up at the Master. “I wish to remain with you and I know he would feel the same.”
“But I would feel better knowing the two of you are safe with Elaéyadär.” Cerályië told him as he embraced him, hugging him close. “It will only be for a short while and Säévÿl will need you most. I know you will take care of him.”
“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord) He replied quietly as the Master released him. “I will do my best.” He added, trying to smile.
“Then I know everything will be fine.” He said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “I am retiring for the evening. You are free to do as you wish and I will see you in the morning.”
Nodding, Nhaéslal watched him in silence as he strode purposefully down the corridor toward the dungeons. Unlike the villagers whose memories of the Mage Wars had faded to little more than fables, the elves of Fornost remembered all too well the horrors of being held captive by Annûmëä. Yet none had felt the cruelty of his evil touch to the depths as did the Lord and Master of the Keep. All who remained had gladly chosen to serve and protect him in return for their freedom although he never asked for it. It would be good for him to get away from the shadow of that horrible memory, maybe then he could begin to heal.
“Daedalus.” Cerályië greeted him as he approached the door to the last dungeon room.
“Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) He replied as he opened for the door for him.
Entering the room Cerályië smiled, turning toward the settee as Thranduil lifted his head to look at him. His heart swelled as he gazed upon him, sitting on the stool with his arms still on the cushion where he had been resting his head while he waited for him. The untouched tray of food sat on the stand nearby. There was an innocence in the expression on his beautiful face that tore at him as he saw the anxiousness as well as a level of cheerfulness in his eyes, like a child who was not quite sure if he was in trouble yet hoped he was not.
Thranduil felt his gut twist painfully as the elf stood there, a soft smile on his face as he stared at him. His facial expressions were far more guarded and had become difficult to read these past few days. There had not been any punishments since the days before he had awakened in the Herdirs’ (Masters’) bed chamber, yet the sudden change in him that day was still clear in his mind. The dark eyes were so guarded and difficult to read from where he stood.
“I’m glad you waited for me.” Cerályië said quietly as he approached the settee, leaning down to capture his mouth in a brief but deep kiss before lowering himself onto the seat in front of him. “I shall miss you terribly.” He told him softly as he poured a cup of tea.
“Will you not at least tell me your name?” Thranduil asked, stiffening slightly for speaking without permission.
“Who I am is not important pirá neth (little one). He chuckled as he glanced fleetingly toward Edicûve. “In time you will forget about me and this place.” He said quietly, his tone becoming somewhat distant as he picked up a few pieces of the fruit and cheese.
“No.” Thranduil told him, meeting his gaze as he pulled back slightly when the elf held a piece of fruit to his lips. “I feel you inside me.” He said softly, putting what he felt into words for the first time.
“That too will fade.” Cerályië told him, feeling tears sting the backs of his eyes as he touched his lips with the fruit. “Our paths were not meant to cross...”
“Do not take them from me.” Thranduil interrupted him, growing bolder as he leaned a little closer to him, noting the glassy look of unshed tears in the elf’s eyes.
“I know it is you who comforts me at night by taking away the nightmares.” He continued when the elf only stared at him in silence. “They are but fragments of memories that will haunt my sleep until the end of my days. Memories are what make us who we are and you cannot take them from me.”
Lifting his gaze as tears slipped silently down his cheek, Cerályië met Edicûves’ soft gray eyes for long moments. Blinking them back, he glanced down as Thranduil pressed his face into his lap.
“Thranduil.” He said quietly as he lifted his face upward to gaze into the pleading sapphire eyes. “Do not speak of this again. Let us enjoy what little time we have left.” He stated as he leaned down, kissing his forehead.
Opening his mouth obediently as the elf touched his lips again with the fruit, he stared up at him, studying him. His expression was now guarded, but there was a softness in the dark eyes that studied him in return. The spray of starlight in their depths seemed brighter somehow as they watched him, as if he struggled within himself. Thranduil wanted to remember them, he wanted to remember his face, the warmth of his lips and the softness of his hair. He wanted to remember the scent, the taste of him and the way he felt in his arms as he surrendered to him.
At the same time he wanted to remember the sweet taste of his own surrender to him, before he told him of his love for him. The freedom of not being a king, of not having to be strong, to be able to completely give himself over to him. He had never known the exhilarating sensation he had experienced at those moments when he fully submitted to him, with no thought beyond the feeling of losing himself in the pleasure. Caught in the cycle of pain and humiliation that weakened him physically and emotionally, he craved the remuneration afterwards of gentle hands caring for him, tenderly kissing away his tears, holding him like a loving parent would a heartbroken child, had slowly shattered the barriers he had put up. Not since his childhood had his heart yearned for approval as he did from this elf, basking in the delight as he reveled in the rewards of the simplest attentions from him.
It was only in the darkness in the Herdirs’ (Masters’) bed as he hugged the elf’s sleeping body close to him that Thranduil became aware of the true source of his deep pain. It had been by far the worst of the punishments that had been inflicted upon him, yet the ache in his heart came not from the pain his body suffered. It was because the Herdir (Master) had simply walked away from him, there was no remuneration, no strong yet gentle arms to hold him and comfort him afterwards, no loving words of approval for his suffering and that hurt more than he was willing to admit even to himself.
Cautiously as he stared up into the velvety depths of the Herdirs’ (Masters’) eyes, Thranduil slid his hand along his thigh toward his groin. Smiling faintly as he gently caressed the length of his slightly hard sex through the silk leggings, watching as the dusky lips parted revealing the tip of his tongue as he wet them almost nervously.
“Leave us.” Cerályië said quietly as he reached forward, caressing Thranduils’ jawline and chin with gentle fingers. “Oh Eru (God), you are so beautiful and so precious to me!” He thought as he slid his hands behind his neck, lifting the mass of silvery blonde hair, enjoying the feel of it as he fanned it out across his back. His desire for him rising rapidly, Cerályië leaned back against the settee as Thranduils’ fingers quickly loosened the fastenings of his leggings.
Grasping the soft material as the Herdir (Master) lifted his hips, Thranduil pulled them well past his knees as he leaned forward between them. Eager to please him, he grasped his hips, nuzzling his lower belly, he breathed in the deep musky scent of him as he placed soft kisses over the warm flesh. Smiling to himself, he heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his fingers tangle themselves in his hair as he traced his tongue teasingly upward along the length of his sex.
Groaning softly, Cerályië sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he felt the warmth of his lips encircle the crown, the slow teasing swirls of the hot tongue sent jolts of pleasure through him. Stiffly, his fingers caressed the muscled flesh of his shoulders as he struggled against the urge to drive himself into his mouth. Laying his head on the back of the settee, he closed his eyes as Thranduil slowly drew the full length of him into his mouth.
Smiling to himself as he listened to the growing frustration in the elf’s groans, he brought him close once more, only to pull free of him to kiss the trembling flesh of his inner thighs. Wincing slightly as the elf clutched at his shoulders, digging into the muscles as he rocked his hips toward him.
“I swear you tease me beyond reason!” Cerályië exclaimed in exasperation, thrusting his hips forward hard enough to dislodge him as he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Closing his eyes, he trembled as he felt the warm lips sucking gently just below his ear. “You are making this so hard.” He thought to himself even as he tilted his head, savoring the feel of his tender kisses.
“Are you enjoying it?” Thranduil whispered, breathing softly in his ear before sucking his earlobe into his mouth.
“Yes.” Cerályië sighed more than said, shivering as he buried his face in his neck.
“Let me make love to you.” Thranduil said quietly, kissing his temple as he stroked his hair gently.
Nodding, Cerályië released him, his smile trembled as he watched him lower himself back onto the stool. Clasping his face in his hands, he leaned forward, kissing his lips tenderly. They only had these two more nights together and he would deny him nothing.
Shaking his head, Thranduil smiled at him as he moved his hands away when the elf reached down toward his boots. Thoroughly enjoying himself as he felt him watching him, he carefully removed the soft leather boots and pulled the leggings free of him. Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on the slightly parted lips as he unbuttoned the front of the tunic and pushed it down off his shoulders. His smile broadened as he rose to his feet, extending his hand toward him.
“I think you are enjoying this too much.” Cerályië stated, narrowing his eyes even more, his tone carrying a hint of laughter as Thranduil pulled him up from the settee.
“Is it such a bad thing that I would enjoy pleasing my Herdir?” (Master) He replied quietly as he pulled him into his arms.
Whatever response Cerályië would have given was swallowed as Thranduil captured his mouth in a searching kiss as he lifted him in arms. Carrying him the few steps toward the hearth, he lowered him gently onto the furs, covering his body with his own. Slipping his arms beneath his shoulders, Thranduil cradled his head in his hands as he continued the now hungry kiss.
“I love you.” Thranduil thought to himself, knowing he would never be able to say the words out loud. Releasing his mouth, trailing his kisses lower, listening to the soft moans as he sought out all of his sensitive places. Using his knees, he pushed his thighs apart as he settled in closer to him.
Gently pulling the crown of his sex into his mouth, he reached toward the ledge in front of the hearth to find the small tin of herbal salve that was always there. Smiling to himself, he slipped slowly down the length him as he dipped his finger into the tin. Pulling back up to the crown, he teased him with his tongue as he sought the small wrinkled muscle. Swallowing the length of him as he pressed his finger past the tight ring in search of the tiny hard nugget that would bring him pleasure.
“Ahh!” Cerályië cried out in pleasure, digging his fingers into the soft thickness of the furs beneath him as he arched against the almost overwhelming pleasure that coursed through him. It felt as if the world fell away from him, there was nothing beyond the feelings incited within him as Thranduil pleasured him beyond all thought.
“You may take my memories, but you will remember me.” Thranduil vowed silently, slipping his arms beneath his knees as he moved up over him. Capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss as he entered him, he swallowed the cries, taking him in long measured thrusts.
~*~
Although the grip of winter had faded from the lower regions, the winds blowing down from the north through the valley between Mount Gundabad and the Ered Mithrin Mountains to the north were bitter. The trio clutched their winter cloaks tighter as they reached the wider part of the trail in their final dissent to the Hithaeglir Plains on the western side of the Misty Mountains.
“We can make camp here.” Legolas stated as guided his mount toward a small gorge in the shadow of the mountain.
Three sets of eyes scanned the surrounding rock formations as they dismounted, leading their mounts further into the gorge toward the enormous pile of boulders in the canyon. The winds could still be heard whistling above them as they settled in behind a small stone outcropping near the base of the mountain.
“North Downs is still at least five hundred miles west of here.” Träëliôrn commented quietly, his gaze flickered between his two companions as he dug into his saddle pack for something to eat.
“Fornost should be at the south end of there.” Legolas sighed as he pulled out his water flask.
Exchanging worried glances, Träëliôrn and Ivósaar watched the prince with great concern as they ate in silence. What little information they were able to glean from different conversations at the Silver Thorn Inn at Langwell Pass was questionable. Most were too far into their cups to take everything they said as more than the rumors they had already heard coming out of Esgaroth and Erebor. None of the patrons had spoken a name, referring to him only as the dark elf. It was their revelation that this dark elf had a penchant for light haired Sindar elves that concerned them the most.
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Of Light and Shadow