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Feud	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 27149 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
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Feud

www.feud.shadowess.com

By erobey, robey61@yahoo.com

Beta'd by Sarah AK. Remaining errors are mine alone.

Disclaimer: The recognised characters and settings used in this fiction were created by JRR Tolkien. The words, other characters, and ideas here surrounding them belong to erobey alone. No infringement is intended or monies earned through this work.

A/N: I am proud to say that the inspiration for the romantic atmosphere of this and the next chapter comes from Sarah AK and the lovely, moving encounters she writes for her Legolas and Gimli.

Chapter 67: Caro Meleth Enni [Make Love to Me]

Into the air of the autumn afternoon the tall trees of the Greenwood's deciduous population relinquished their collectors of Anor's light in a slow, relentless diminishment of foliage, unveiling their stark twiggy limbs more with each day that passed. Yet this was not like a rending of garments in despair over the demise of the lush beauty of laer [summer] for the &Icirben ben [Sleepers] mourned not the advent of their time of respite. Doron, lith, fêr, and lalorn, [Oak, ash, beech, elm] all welcomed the well-earned rest of hibernation.

Languidly, as if already drifting into dream, the Îdhben loosed their leafy garb and scattered whatever remained of fruit and mast. Distracted in sleepy disregard the woods flung away handfuls of gold and red confetti as though upon a parade of honour long since passed by beneath them.

The fragile remnants of spring's rebirth, now brittle and cracklely rather than pliantly resilient, drifted betwixt the canopy and the duff. In little twirls and somersaults the leaves twisted about, revelling in one last dance amid the interstices where Anor played before lying down in eternal repose upon the mouldy ground. Sundered from the trees that grew them, they would never again be as they had begun. Another layer added to the rich loamy mulch. In the peculiar cycle of death giving birth to life, the rot of the forest giants' own substantive cover would in a season or two provide the nutrients that strengthened their roots below and made new green curls burst forth from the brown barked buds of winter's dormancy.

Too recent was iavas' [autumn's] commencement for the ground to be concealed beneath the variegated detritus and so the nearly weightless tread of elven feet across the path gave no tell-tale crunching proof of their passage. Two there were, walking at a solemn pace, side by side, close but not touching, one with hair as pale and fair as the first gleam of Arien's smile at minuial, the other's locks inkier than the deeps of Aeron under the faint illumination of Tilion's shy salute upon his retreat.

Erestor and Legolas wandered amid the towering trees.

Legolas was not exactly certain how he had come to be strolling through Greenwood's majestic beauty with the Noldo Lord. The Council had been adjourned and everyone had filtered away from the starlit chamber until only he and his close friends remained in the centre of the room. No exuberant congratulatory hugs and smiles were shared as he noted the worry and concern on everyone's countenances. They were all staring at him as if his actions bespoke complete madness.

He found he did not want to converse with Fearfaron and hear lecturing about what was in his best interest and so avoided his foster father's eyes. Nor did he care to engage Mithrandir on an internal level and soundly shut out the wizard's insistent and silent demand for answers. That brought him an inward smile of gloating that he did share with the Istar; since his brief reverie within the tunnel outside Taurant's nursery, Legolas had been successful in controlling access to his thoughts.

Aiwendil seemed to understand his reluctance to argue anymore, and he supposed the wizard could sense the depths of his exhaustion and the strain imparted by the many threats thus far so marginally evaded. Legolas could imagine, by the determined expressions upon Aragorn and Lindalcon's features, that they were as eager as Fearfaron to spend as many hours as might be granted convincing their friend of his erroneous ideas. The archer simply wanted them to let it go and trust him; why could they not trust him just this once? Was it so impossible to accept that he might know more about the reality of that day's events than anyone else?

With a repressed sigh he turned lastly to Erestor and took in the wayward hair and spoiled clothes again. Legolas had not missed the unspoken communication between the King and the seneschal, and now believed Malthen was somehow responsible for Eor'sor's unkempt attitude. Worried over what this might mean, the wild elf met the advisor's contrite eyes.

"I would speak with you," he spoke and startled, for Erestor had said the exact same phrase simultaneously. They smiled hesitantly together and as their reunion undertook its tentative beginning Legolas heard an assortment of justifications and apologies while the rest of his friends suddenly found need to excuse themselves from his company.

Now he was here, ambling along the pathway in quietude with the Noldo Lord, neither of them able to utter a single word.

Abruptly the trees opened out into a little glen and they halted on the threshold of the hidden clearing. Legolas smiled sadly to find his heart had brought him here. This was his old sanctuary, the place where he had practised his archery alone, free from the criticism of his tutors and the mockery of the warriors, where he had tried to master the power of Oropher's purloined war-bow. Here he had fled when his loneliness became heightened by the proximity of so many elves within thty. ty. This was the haven he had sought once he had grown too big to hide sorrsorrows in the arms of the Sentinel, whenever Malthen was in Lorien. Here he had first indulin sin sexual fantasies of his guardsman.

Legolas laughed, a softly bitter sound, cleared the face of his first love from his mind, and strode out into the glade past Erestor, determined to rediscover the welcome of the land.

Before the Judgement Legolas had kept it tended and trimmed but the dell was all overgrown and untamed now. {Like me.} Stringy saplings shot up straight and branchless, topped with a fringe of stems like spiky antlers, surrounded by tangled stalks of grasses and wild flowers sporting the heavy, seeded crowns of fall instead of the luxurious colour of plume and petals. Legolas' fingers gently caressed one of the stripling oaks as he passed and the tree woke enough from only its fifth yearly slumber to acknowledge the honour, leaning into the forest champion's retreat to delay the loss of touch.

Legolas crossed all the way to the farthest edges of the clearing, passing a large stump where the remains of a mighty beech gave testimony to how close the evil of Dol Guldur sometimes came to the Wood Elves' stronghold. A brighter laugh and a smile over his shoulder at last invited the Noldo into the area.

Erestor slowly moved through the dried knee-high vegetation to join him, worried, for the laughter had soundercedrced.

"Here is where my skill with the bow was perfected in my youth," Legolas said, indicating a faded and much punctured wooden disc covered over in painted hide, the red centre sun-bleached and the leather cracked and decayed by exposure to the elements.

Erestor reached out and drifted his fingers over the arrow-gouged surface and smiled back. "Many hours you must have spent to reduce the target to such pitiful condition." He observed the slight uplift and decline of shoulders made powerful by those long years of effort.

Legolas stood not two feet away and yet the distance between them was a gulf the seneschal knew not how to bridge so vast was its expanse. The wild elf was protectively withdrawn again, his arms folded tightly against his chest and his face turned away so that their eyes did not meet. Erestor could feel the pain and sorrow emanating from the warrior and desperately wanted to offer some form of comfort. He needed to find the means to open Legolas back up, for he was certain the union they had shared before had helped the heart-sore elf.

How to achieve this was a delicate dilemma, for he did not wish it to seem he merely lusted for the Tawarwaith in the absence of his bond-mates.

"This is far from the normal training grounds, is it not? No doubt you came here to spare the pride of your senior comrades. It must have been unnerving to the more seasoned archers to find themselves bested by one so much younger," he joked.

But Legolas did not smile, lost in the memory of the last time he had been in this glade. Like many of his recollections, it was not joyful. It was here that Malthen had informed him of the end of their affiliation. He could have chosen to tell Legolas in the privacy of his rooms, any place but this one, yet did not.

Malthen and Ningloriel had returned to Greenwood after a long sojourn in Lorien. Legolas had waited patiently in the clearing for his lover to come to him, for this hollow within the woods had become their trysting place, safe from prying eyes and ears within the fortress. Yet, for all the times they had coupled here surrounded by the glorious beauty of Yavanna's creations, the experience never neared the romantically erotic ecstasy that had dominated the young elf's imagination.

It was no different on this occasion. Legolas pleasured the guardsman orally and then Malthen wanted to see how his charge dealt with longing during their separations. And Legolas did not mind. He knew the sight of him masturbating, fingers deep inside massaging his sensitised core, whispering his lover's name, would bring Malthen fully erect again. The instant the archer's hot white seed began spurting Maltahondo took him. Hard. Fast. Dry.

Brutal.

And it was after this, while he was lying in exhausted culmination against the guardsman's chest, that the news was given. Legolas' mind had instantly cleared, realising in alarm they were not alone. The elf he was to be given to had been there, watching from the fringe of the trees, the unfamiliar odour of his ejaculation immediately overwhelming every other sense. The archer had scrambled for his clothes as Malthen chortled in amusement, saying he thought that was a bit premature. The three had spent the rest of the day and half the evening together, and Maltahondo had not left them until he had seen the new pair coupled, enjoying another orgasm during the display.

Legolas had cried when he was gone, finally realising it was all real and not some game designed to heighten the corpsman's pleasure. He would never again indulge in such intimate intercourse with Malthen. He had spent his tears upon the shoulder of an elf he barely knew, who now knew him all too well.

How foolish he had been to ever imagine Malthen returned his feelings! It was so obvious now that he had been nothing more than Ningloriel's substitute. {Why could I not see this then? How did I not realise? He could not have her and so he took me.} Legolas swallowed to choke back the tears threatening to rise and breathed in and out sharply twice.

And suddenly Erestor did not care about how to best approach his friend and simply reached out and wrapped his arms around the rigid figure, not concerned over being insulted, assaulted or rejected. "You may hit me very hard if you like, Pen-rhovan," he whispered, assuming the reaction was due to more recent memories of abuse. Affectionately he nuzzled his lips against the bound locks at the fallen warrior's temple. "Or perhaps you need a new target for your archery practice? I certainly deserve it. There are no adequate words to express the depth of my remorse for all the injuries you have endured, and my part in them."

"I need to get from this place," Legolas struggled to speak the despairing words, still stiffly unyielding in the seneschal's embrace, determined not to mourn over Maltahondo any longer.

"Of course, whatever you wish; tell me where to go," agreed Erestor.

But Legolas could not manage it and finally turned and slumped against the older elf, hiding his face against the broad chest as he fought the onslaught of the mounting pain. A gasp escaped and he braced himself, digging his fingers into the Noldo's sides.

"Ai, Legolas!" Erestor was alarmed, not realising before the full extent of the wild elf's distress. "I cannot bear for you to suffer so!" Cautiously he slipped one arm round Legolas' waist and with the other loosed the outcast's vice-like clasp from his body, draping the forearm across his shoulders. Erestor supported the weary warrior's halting steps back under the sheltering limbs of the forest.

Their progress was very slow at first but every stride away from the little glen seemed to help Legolas put distance between his heart and his grief. Gradually he found the means to stand up straight and Erestor let him pull his arm free, stopping him from getting too far away by firmly gripping his hand.

The wild elf looked up, bewildered to feel the determined tug, found the seneschal smiling kindly, and removed his scrutiny to their adjacent palms. After a second's resistance Legolas relented and allowed the persistent conjunction created by the encircling fingers. He was surprised to find the contact bestowed a calming effect and squeezed back, holding on tight as they walked.

He had no idea where they were going and did not care to think about it, allowing his attention to dwell on the comfort the Noldo's secure grip granted. The forest champion once more chanced to see where his companion's sight was centred and found the elder elf regarding him, the Imladrian's refined features transformed with the tension of his troubled thoughts.

"Alright?" he asked and Legolas nodded, turning his eyes back out to the trees at his left. Erestor took a short breath to steady his courage. "I should explain, or at least attempt to, about Elrond and…"

"No! Please," the emphatic reply was reinforced by a brisk shake of the Tawarwaith's long locks and a second endeavour to pull free of the confining clasp. He found the Noldo unwilling to relinquish their connection. Again Legolas let him win the tiny struggle and sighed.

Erestor refrained from any comment, fearful of speaking and injuring his friend again, glad in his heart that Pen-rhovan had not yanked away and bolted into the canopy.

They proceeded in silence for some time as the filtered light grew hazy in the long wavelengths of annûn's [sunset's] descent. Legolas became more relaxed as the ugly memory retreated back into the depths of his mind. The Noldo started gently swinging their clasped hands and the wild elf could not suppress a fleeting smile to see how hard the advisor from Imladris was working to just ghim him a sense of contentment and peace.

{Such a simple thing, walking hand in hand.} Erestor thought, relieved to notice the momentary expression of happiness that crossed Legolas' visage, gratified that his actions were soothing the tormented soul beside him. In a sudden burst of insight the venerable advisor realised he was the first to ever perform this small act of protective nurturing with Legolas.

A flare of outrage passed through his mind at the lack of gentleness in the archer's experience of love. It was profoundly wrong that Legolas had been denied the innocent pleasure of strolling in the carefree joy of contented companionship with a lover. He shifted his possessive hold and could feel the wild elf start to retreat again, but Erestor only repositioned his fingers so their digits became entwined, and grinned victoriously when the blue eyes found his for a second before darting determinedly back down to the leafy pathway.

{It is definitely comforting.} Legolas thought, both amazed and pleased to find this true. He did not want to be angry with the veteran of Gondolin, not after his actions before the Council and the King. And though he could not quite bear to enquire about it, Legolas was certain the seneschal had engaged Malthen in a personal battle to avenge his injured heart and sullied virtue.

{For my honour!} The disgraced warrior mentally sneered at himself over such a concept. Any dignity and noble bearing he may have once possessed had long ago been stripped from him. {I have lain in lascivious lust with both my mother's lovers, the first when I was but eight-and-thirty. I should not have even been thinking of such things at so young an age.} Yet, it gave him a very warm feeling to know the Noldo Lord would go to such lengths to defend his character. He wanted to thank the Imladrian, but feared to bring it up for then they would have to talk about everything, including Elrond, and those were revelations he could not confront.

And so they continued in unvoiced communion as the last of Anor's light turned to dusky grey.

The walkway took them back into the city where lamplight from talans spilled down upon the pair and before long they were passing others along the path. After more than a few sets of ogling eyes tracked them Legolas could not withhold his merriment and a brash guffaw trumpeting from his lungs.

"What is so funny?" demanded Erestor, certain he knew exactly what it was, pleased to hear the genuine amusement from the woe-weary archer, overjoyed to have a reason to speak that did not involve saying anything potentially damaging.

"Why you, of course," confirmed the wild elf. "Have you any idea how ridiculous you look? You are worse than an elfling who has been out on an adventure and became lost in the woods." He was only joking and was surprised to see the grave expression that overtook the Noldo's features.

"Aye, I did become lost on this adventure, but I have found my way again now."

Legolas could conjure no rejoinder and tore his gaze away, all at once finding the mixture of dirt and leaves at his feet fascinating.

Erestor stopped and turneon ton the path to face him but still the disinherited prince refused to acknowledge the seneschal. With careful fingertips he tilted up the bowed head of golden locks.

As his face pivoted skyward Legolas' eyelids rolled down and his brow furrowed in aggravation determined not to look at this most unnerving elf and reveal his confusion. {Why must he be this serious? Where is the debonair rogue, Berenaur?} He was about to jerk away when the seneschal bent and carefully pressed a feather-light kiss upon the wild elf's frowning lips.

Startled, Legolas froze. Another genteel compression petitioned his stern, unrelenting mouth and then withdrew.

Not with passion and fire, not with demands and desires did Erestor woo the Tawarwaith's wounded heart, but with gentle tenderness. When no response was granted he did not desist but offered the same caring caress over and over until finally Legolas' mouth lost its stony grimace and parted to release a slow sigh against the seneschal's.

Kisses.

Legolas absorbed the sedating sensation.

Ephemeral impressions of desire upon his lips, a whisper of contact then a ghost of a draft, a hushed sibillation part worship, part entreaty; his name exhaled. He breathed it in.

{Soft, like the sound of summer rain on wet leaves.}

The questing touch returned, paired pliancy meandering over his upper lip, a tongue tip dabbing down dreamily to taste the depression between the crimson peaks of the perfect bow.

{Warm, like the tingling radiance of afternoon sun caressing bare skin.}

Supple sucking secured his lower petal, now full and florid, for but an instant, leaving a gossamer glaze of moist delight.

{Luxuriant, like the plush pelt of a sable lynx.}

Fingertips traipsed the line from cheek to jaw, tendrils of vibrating exhilaration washed through him, collecting in the pulse points of awakening arousal. His body began to sing.

{Delicate, like the elusive scent of wild orchids opening under the silver shimmer of a moonlit night.}

How could he resist such tantalisingly elusive courtship? The wild elf shed the barricades thrown up to hinder further hurt and joined the playful pas-de-deux. A tilt of his head, so, and the Noldo's dipped right to capture his mouth and savour the sweetness therein. A brush of his nose on the seneschal's lips prompted a nip at his chin. A flickering lick impelled a brief exposure of the advisor's teeth as he promised access to richer treasures and taught Pen-rhovan the steps of romance's minuet.

Legolas smiled into the labial libations and mimicked every action, each caress.

A duet of whispery, heady exhalations arose from their mouths' lengthening conjunction and reluctant severance as their souls sought one another. This yearning ache spurred increased cohesion and their lips gave way in muted pops and softly sucking sighs of wet, warm, red flesh.

"There are words I must say to you," Erestor whispered between kisses.

"I cannot speak your name," the low, regretful reply filled the next interlude.

This stung Erestor's soul, yet now that Legolas was participating he was even less eager to curtail the stimulating experience, even to correct this error.

Again and again their mouths met and the Noldo would alternately take his lover's lips or let Legolas stroke his between those mobile and expressive ruby petals. Or they would both approach, equally parted in open invitation, and seal carefully together, softly wrapping just the tips of their tongues together, trading tastes, neither trying to push past the innocence of their osculation to plumb the depths of passions each knew the other possessed.

Their hands remained locked together, Legolas holding on with almost unbearable rigour. His free palm had found its way to the small of the seneschal's back and was there firmly seated.

{He has never been kissed this way.}

This thought filled Erestor with sadness for all that had been stolen from the wild elf. His lovers had eagerly instructed Legolas in carnal pleasure, but no one had ever made love to him. The revelation brought Erestor the answer to his quandary, however, for the Noldo had begun to despair of a means to overcome the archer's craving for violent intimacy. There were undoubtedly many other things no one had ever done with the archer.

{No one ever touches him.}

Erestor soothed his hand down the Tawarwaith's neck and let his fingers slip beneath the collarless shirt. He felt the ripples of excitement run through the younger elf's body. He smiled and pulled away just enough to gain air to speak.

"Shall I tell you what I am going to do, Pen-rhovan?" he breathed the query against the archer's crimson tongue as it darted out briefly to curl against his upper teeth. When it returned to the darkly delicious orifice Erestor's followed right behind and teased the muscle with little lapping licks. He was rewarded with an appreciative sigh and a delicate bite upon his bottom lip, right in the very centre.

{None has bothered tell him what makes him so alluring.}

Erestor retreated just enough to see his partner clearly and his spirit swelled with joyous desire. Legolas' hooded eyes were fixed upon the seneschal's mouth, watching for the tongue to appear again, panting slightly through parted lips, silently offering access. The Noldo willingly entered. He had not enjoyed this romantic preliminary to foreplay so much in centuries. They broke for air reluctantly, lingering over their moist massage.

"Shall I?"

"What?" Legolas could scarcely get the syllable out, a whimpery complaint of bewilderment. How could the advisor prefer talking to this other more exquisite use of his vocal organ?

"Tell you," an impetuous buss on the mouth, "what I am going to do with that magnificent body of yours?"

"You… my… what…?" an inarticulate exclamation interrupted the ambiguous answer as the seneschal claimed the archer's ear tip unexpectedly. A deep tremor ran through Legolas' limbs when the fleshy appendage was released.

"I think I will start with your ears," Erestor continued in mesmerising undertones of besotted bliss. "Such exquisite ears!" He tongued the swirled crevice between the outer rim and the interior shell. "These points, so decadently long and tapered, tempting me so blatantly. I shall suck them until they tingle and burn as your red-tipped cock does right now." He moved as though to follow through and Legolas tensed in anticipation but the seneschal's deep carmine mouth never engulfed the throbbing pinnacle. Instead, he breathed against the inflamed cartilage, forcing a strangled groan from the archer's throat.

"Next, I will unloose your hair," he murmured his sultry soliloquy as his free hand smoothed over the back of the wild elf's head and tangled in the trailing tresses, "this mane of reticulated gold. I want to feel this voluptuous silken flow caress my skin, every inch of it: tickling over my stomach when you devour my seed; teasing across my chest as you ride me, impaled and impassioned; dancing upon my spine while your shaft plunges inside, filling me with your essence. Valar! You are so beautiful, Pen-rhovan!"

He was delighted to find Legolas staring at him, eyes impossibly huge and dilated, mouth softly shut but ready to welcome another intrusion at the slightest signal, a faint stain of crimson growing in his cheeks. {Contemplating the detailed images these unexpected declarations have raised in his mind?} Erestor grinned with that thought and raised disbelieving brows at his lover's discomfort.

"You have surely been told before now that you are fair, Pen-rhovan," he insisted, suspecting he had not. "Are you trying to make me say it again?"

At that the blush broke out in full but the archer smiled devilishly and nodded. "Aye, I would hear more," he demanded and cocked his head to entice another kiss, but Erestor did not oblige.

"Very well," he said but instead stepped ahead and pulled on the wild elf's hand, coaxing him to move forward along the path. Looking back, he smirked to see Legolas walking a little awkwardly; it was evident he was fighting the urge to readjust uncomfortably tight leggings.

Erestor halted him in the midst of a centralised, multi-tiered crosswalk comprised of footpaths below and branchways above. High in the trees slender bridges, single silken strands of hithlain, linked them, trunk to boll. From within their homes escaped the dulcet sound of Sylvan voices lifted in song, and though not all were singing the same tune the entirety of the sonorous music was harmonious and soothing. Erestor smiled down into Legolas' questioning expression and began the kissing flirtation all over again.

Despite the public location and the likelihood of being discovered in their amorous exercise, Legolas readily succumbed, joining in with relish as the advisor's free fingers eased between the ties of his tunic and shirt, stroking across his breastbone with the faintest pressure. The Tawarwaith moaned and sidled closer, hoping to encourage those tormenting digits to fondle his already peaked and throbbing nipples.

Erestor graced one impossibly tight and pointed tit with the faintest flick and felt the warrior twitch in wanton desire.

"Then I shall strip you." Erestor broke from Legolas' mouth and began again just where he had left off. An exhilarating constriction in his crotch accompanied the shocked gasp that fled his lover's lips as his hand was practically crushed in the archer's grip.

"Should I start at the top?" he pondered huskily and searched the wild elf's eyes boldly for an answer, letting his fingers temptingly tug on the garments' closures. He chuckled softly at the almost imperceptibly nodded assent. "Nay, I shall have the choicest delicacy first." His palm slipped in a slow indulgent slither down to the archer's groin and shamelessly groped the restrained erection.

"Saes! Úsí!" [Please! Not here!]

"I would have these leggings off, Pen-rhovan; that rosy, rigid shaft exposed for my delight! I shall slide back the slick foreskin and hold it thus to more easily partake of the liqueur welling at the slit."

"Saes!" Legolas could not help the involuntary pivot of his pelvis to increase the tantalising contact.

"Saes man?" [Please what?] Erestor's hand roamed around his lover's hip to cup a tautly rounded derrière.

"Telithan sí avdharil!" [I shall come here if you do not stop!]

Before Erestor could continue the repartee a series of suppressed snickers and giggles captured their notice.

Legolas abruptly pulled back to find they were the objects of much amusement for three couples, warriors and maids, approaching from the opposite direction. Embarrassed, he tried to get his hand loose but the Noldo would not let him free. The group walked past them quickly, growing quieter and glancing with sympathetic grins at their champion, his face buried against the advisor's shoulder.

"Forgive me, I was a bit carried away," pleaded Erestor and patted the shaking form pressed against him.

"Valar! We cannot continue thusly here, Bere…Eres…Ai!" Legolas' countenance had lost its glaze of aroused passion and his eyes became as dark and moody as a stormy sea. "I cannot call you that! Let me go!"

"Nay! You need not despair! Wait, Legolas, listen to me. That is not even my name, not truly!" Erestor was frantic to prevent this disastrous interruption from terminating their encounter and held on tightly, locking the archer's hand within both of his.

"Do not be false; everyone knows who you are!"

"Aye, but that is just one of the names I bear, and the least important."

"I do not know if I should believe that. How many have you got and why?"

"Three, like every self-respecting Noldo," Erestor said with feigned indignance. He watched Legolas' expression carefully as he brought their bodies into complete contact and let the wild archer feel the solid distension confined against his thigh. "There is my mother-name, my father-name, and the name I gave myself. You know the last and have used the first, but it is my father-name that is most appropriate."

"And what is that?" Legolas could not deny his curiosity.

"Sigiland [Long-knife]," the seneschal said matter-of-factly but accompanied the word with a hearty shove of his hips that sent his restrained member grinding against the Sylvan's groin.

Legolas sucked in a tremendous lungful and then burst into an echoing round of light laughter at this double entendre, which of course Erestor had intended. The wild elf all but collapsed against his lover as he let the jovial mood replace the near panic threatening just moments ago.

"I do not believe you," he repeated giddily once he was able to draw breath>
"I swear it is absolutely genuine," insisted Erestor.

"Well I cannot call you that either," laughed the wild elf with an appreciative survey of the seneschal's clothed anatomy, "No matter if it is true." An intense vision of the Noldo's impressive extremity pounding into his arse as he cried out for Sigiland to fuck him harder, deeper made Legolas shudder. He grew more serious and searched his friend's eyes hopefully. "I like Berenaur, is that also a real name?"

"Aye," Erestor hugged him, heart soaring, "my mother named me so at birth. I would be honoured for you to call me thus again."

"Berenaur," Legolas sighed and leaned up to kiss Erestor, timidly almost. "It suits you, for your bold defence of my person shines like a fiery torch against the darkness I must defeat."

At these words Erestor was speechless and could only hold the younger elf close, their continuously interlocked hands pressed between their heated bodies.

"We cannot stay out on the pathways all night." Legolas whispered, leaning his brow on toldooldo's cheek. He closed his eyes with contentment, inhaling deeply the scent of their mutual desire.

"Tell me where to go and I shall get us there," said Erestor as he stroked the archer's supple back and rubbed his cheek against the unruly hair. But he did not wait for a reply, instead the Noldo tempted the Sylvan to present his lips for further adoration and once more the two lovers became lost in the sensual exploration.

"Follow this trail, the one along which grow those nodding white bromeliads," a female voice, Gladhadithen, replied from behind Erestor but he was unwilling to allow this surprise to interfere with his slow seduction. Legolas, however, giggled as his eyes darted to peer, quizzically mischievous, at her smirking visage.

"At the end of it is a tall oak, the largest by far in the vicinity." She grinned at the forest champion as she spoke, still addressing the Imladrian advisor. "Up close to the canopy is a secluded talan. All you require is already there."

The seneschal now recognised the speaker as the healer from the council chamber, but before he could reply he sensed her leaving them.

Legolas took the initiative and resumed the oral enticement, giving voice to his needy longing in a series of barely discernible, imploring cries with each respiration.

Erestor slowly withdrew from Legolas' ardent kisses and smiled to find the younger elf drawing closer to prevent their separation. The Noldo let him continue for a bit, fingers drifting up and down Legolas' back as he enjoyed the attention.

"Come," whispered Erestor, finally taking the next step along their path.

Tbc

Reviews:

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Crystal: sorry for the delay, here is another chapter! Thank-you for continuing to follow the story and review even through the difficulties on this site!

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Black Orchid2: Thank-you! That is very high praise, for there are many many excellent e/l fics out there! I am truly pleased you find mine worthy of your attention.

Chloe Amethyst: Thank you! So many nice praises!

I agree, that is such a set excuse for going to war it is almost a cliché to use it. What an absurd justification, we shall go to war to prove to the bad guys that we are not the sort they want to ever engage in war. So what if the reasons to strike were completely fictitious, killing those bad guys justifies killing all those civilians who just happened to be in the way. The one that gets me the most? How we bombed afganistan to 'get bin ladin'. Now as a geologist I can tell you, those bombs were not nearly powerful enough to level a mountain. Plenty strong enough to disintegrate villages and humans, though. Funny, we never did get bin ladin. Even funnier, we had in our possession the most detailed maps and descriptions of those caves and what they contained, comprised over twenty years of continuous, intensive study by a respected and highly competent geologist. We could have walked right in and 'gotten bin ladin' anytime, instead of putting on that destructive smoke screen that allowed him to casually waltz back home to saudi.

Legolas agreeing with thranduil is indeed disturbing, and while he does not really see eye to eye with the king he does not want him displaced for his siblings' sakes. Fearfaron is trying to understand him and not having much success. Legolas has kept some things back from his friends, and in the excitement over the trial they have forgotten one or two on their own. like you, legolas is uncertain how far he will have to go to make things work out his way. He has a trump card, but will only play it if all else fails.
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