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Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter VIII: Finding Solace

The forest spanned several acres of mountainside and they rode until they reached its easternmost bounds. Only then did they stop and set up camp. By now it was afternoon and they were all somewhat weary in spirit if not in body. Save for Elrohir who was near drained of both.

Legolas only reluctantly released him into his brother’s arms when they came to a halt.

It had galled him when Elladan had hesitated to hand Elrohir over to him though he could not blame him. Elladan’s demeanor had then worried him that the younger twin might balk at having to ride with him. But to his relief, Elrohir had willingly stayed with him, even sinking into his embrace and dozing off as their pace quickened. Whether it was from love or only sheer exhaustion, the archer did not really care. All that had mattered was that he could hold Elrohir once more after so many lonely days and nights.

And then he had been thrilled to the very core of his being when, as they approached the edge of the forest, Elrohir had lifted his head and brushed pliant lips against his. So elated had he been and needful of the Elf-knight’s loving that he had chased after the retreating lips and, upon capturing them had urgently parted them and hungrily tasted what he had been forced to forego in the wake of their shocking fight. Was it any wonder that he now rued having to let his mate go?

They found a shallow basin well hidden by trees wherein they could settle down for the rest of the day. There they built a blazing fire for Elrohir and laid him down by it. He slipped into deep slumber almost at once, which had Gimli anxiously fussing over him lest he fall into the oblivious repose of his kinsmen. But it proved a normal sleep and a replenishing one to everyone’s relief. When he awoke just after sundown, he seemed much refreshed and could sit up unaided and partake of a light meal though he still suffered from cold and fatigue.

It was only then that they questioned him as to what had been done to him. One thing in particular immediately caught their attention.

“Are you certain that she was in pain?” Elladan pressed.

“Very certain,” Elrohir replied. “She loosened her hold on me and ceased to drain me. ‘Twas how I managed to slay her.”

“And you say you could feel some of your life’s force returning.”

“Aye, as if she could not hold it in and allowed it to flow back through the channel she opened between us.”

Gimli exclaimed at that. “Then that would explain my kinsmen’s survival,” he said. “Though not why they were so drained as to be forced into unconsciousness but not enough to kill them.”

Legolas frowned as he turned the puzzle over in his mind. He heard Gimli add: “Perhaps it does have to do with our being of different races. We are after all more enduring than men and much stronger besides.”

“Not to mention longer-lived,” Legolas suddenly suggested.

Elrohir looked at him in interest. “That is a thought,” he said in a hushed voice. “Dwarves live three to four times as long as the average human. That would certainly explain why your kinsmen did not die, Gimli, but were simply drained to exhaustion.” He sat up straighter, twilight eyes gleaming with excitement. “A Dwarf’s life force may be simply too much for any one feeder to consume.”

“And even more impossible with an immortal being,” Elladan murmured. “No matter what she had become, she was still of mortal origins and could not sustain her consumption of your eternal flame.”

“Then this is not so great a peril as we previously thought,” Gimli said. “Since they cannot prey on you Elves, you can go after them and destroy them.”

Elladan shook his head. “They can still weaken us. Witness what that woman did to Elrohir. Had more than one attacked him...”

“And there is still the matter of our missing women,” Elrohir reminded them all. “Mayhap a mortal cannot take on an Elf but what of our own transformed into those abominations?”

Legolas gasped in horror. “One would be a match for any number of Elves. As it is, those women were already much too swift and agile for my liking.”

“And impossibly strong as well,” Elrohir added. “I could not make her loosen her hold on me.”

“But we know their weakness,” Gimli pointed out. “It should be a simple matter to dispatch them.”

“If they remain thus clothed,” Legolas mused. “There has been no need to shield them so far as none knew their intent and even less their one weakness. But should Lomion choose to launch an open assault, would he not take care to protect them?”

“With armor wrought from galvorn,” Elladan agreed. “Aye, that he would.”

“Well reasoned, Legolas,” Elrohir quietly commended his mate. The prince could not help beaming in pleasure to hear his Elf-knight’s praise.

“Our women were among the last to be taken,” he remarked. “And none have yet appeared. Is it possible they have not been altered?”

“After all these years?” Elladan said doubtfully. "'Tis more likely they have either not completed their transformation or Lomion is holding them back for some other purpose.” He paused. “I am more inclined to believe they are still not--ready for release,” he said at length. “As you say, they were among the last to be taken. And thus far it seems only human women have been unleashed upon us. Mayhap whatever process is used to change them is not all that swift.”

“Mayhap,” Elrohir said. He scowled. “What Lomion has wreaked on these women is the most heinous of violations. I would end his designs and him soonest!” Even as he spoke, a profusion of sharp chills ran through his body and he half-gasped at the sensation.

“Are you very chilled?” Gimli worriedly asked, noting how the younger twin drew his cloak closer about him.

Elrohir nodded. “Though not as cold as when that creature assailed me.”

“It will probably diminish when you regain your strength,” the Dwarf suggested.

“Probably.”

“You are weary anon, muindor”—brother—Elladan urged. “Lie and take more rest.”

Elrohir sighed heavily and, too tired to protest, did as he was bid. His lassitude was soon evinced by his swift return to slumber.

Elladan eyed him with concern. “I pray we do not encounter more of them while he is this weak,” he remarked.

“What do you think, Elladan?” Gimli inquired. “Has Lomion already discovered us? That was a trap if ever I saw one.”

“I cannot say,” Elladan admitted. “I hope not. They may simply have been on their way down the mountains to hunt more victims and upon marking our arrival in that clearing devised a hasty trap for us. I fervently hope that is the case. So long as Lomion remains unaware of our presence we stand a better chance of approaching his stronghold.”

“You mean for us to destroy it on our own,” Legolas said, eyes glinting in the firelight.

Elladan’s countenance was grave. “We cannot know how prepared Lomion is to unleash his creatures on us. We may no longer have the time to go back to muster our forces.” He looked out into the dark beyond the glow of the fire. “This may be our only chance to pre-empt an invasion by these – feeders.”

Gimli pursed his mouth. “A daunting task,” he grunted. “Almost a hopeless one if I did not know you and your abilities.” He snorted. “We will most likely die of this.”

Elladan sighed and nodded. “Most likely.”

The Dwarf stared into the crackling flames. And then a scapegrace grin creased his face. “I will say this. It’s never dull around you,” he said. “I wager Lomion will wish he’d never been born by the time you’re through with him!”

The Elves had to chuckle at his indomitable spirit. Legolas however shook his head and said: “Mayhap we cannot go back but we must get word to my father of what we have discovered. If we fail at least he will still have a chance to do something about this.”

“And how are we supposed to get word to him without one of us actually going back?” Gimli queried pointedly.

Legolas sighed with frustration then suddenly went still. He stared at the topmost branches of a tree several yards away. The others turned to see what it was he had spotted.

Ravens. Several ravens were perched on the tree branches.

Legolas rose and approached the tree. Looking up, he stared intently at the birds. To Elladan and Gimli’s amazement, one raven left its perch and flew down to land on the Wood-elf’s outstretched arm. Legolas continued to stare at it and the bird in turn seemed to look back at him. After a long while, it took flight and vanished into the darkness. Legolas returned to the others.

“What was that all about?” Gimli growled testily.

Legolas said: “My father is blessed with the gift of communicating with most animals. I am not as gifted and indeed I find it difficult to do.” He glanced at Elladan. “I sent the raven back to Eryn Lasgalen to warn Father of the danger and inform him of our location and plans.”

Elladan regarded him with some amazement. “In all our years of acquaintance, you never told me of this ability.”

Legolas shrugged. “As I said, ‘tis not something I am truly strong in. I did not think it worth mentioning even to Elrohir. But in this instance, I fervently hope ‘tis sufficient for our needs.”

Elladan said, “Aye, let us all hope so.” He rose to his feet. “I will take first watch,” he said.

Gimli yawned. “I need all the sleep I can get,” he decided. “I will take the last watch.” As Elladan left to take up his position, he lay down, wrapping his cloak around himself. Soon he was snoring away.

Legolas stayed up a few minutes longer, looking upon Elrohir’s mantle shrouded form. Finally, he lay his lithe body down beside him. A few minutes later he was fast asleep as well.

Elladan roused him just before the midnight hour. Without a word, he reached for his bow and quiver, rose to his feet and began to walk away. Elladan’s sharp intake of breath brought him up short. The older twin had dropped to his knees beside his brother’s huddled form.

“He is shivering!” Elladan softly exclaimed. Swiftly, he pulled off his cloak and threw it over Elrohir’s body. He glanced up at Legolas accusingly. “Did you not notice how chilled he was?” he demanded.

Legolas started then flushed guiltily. “I did not think to check,” he admitted.

Elladan barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. On the verge of uttering a caustic statement, he started when he felt a cold hand on his arm. He glanced down to find Elrohir awake and looking at both of them.

“Please.” A single word but it imparted the Elf-knight’s desire for peace most succinctly.

Legolas flinched when Elrohir’s eyes met his, the barest flicker of emotion in their depths. Disappointment, the prince realized with a twinge. He would have gone down on his knees by his side then but Elladan forestalled him. ”Go. I will take care of him,” he said.

His guilt hounding him, Legolas walked off. A few steps away he glanced back to look at the brethren. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Elladan lie down beside his brother and pull him close, letting his body warm the other. Elrohir thankfully accepted the comfort offered and snuggled into his twin’s arms.

Shame joined the archer’s feeling of culpability. I should have done that for him, he thought with a pang. He recalled Elrohir’s summation of his several shortcomings just that very morning. He bowed his head and closed his eyes tightly.

Elrohir’s words had seared his very soul. He had thought he’d never seen him so angry. Now he understood that had not been the case at all. The twin had not been enraged. He had been frustrated, disappointed, wounded.

How do I make amends to you? Legolas thought coweringly. Will you even let me?

He remained in a pensive mood the following day as they resumed their trek, his unhappiness deepened by Elrohir’s seeming renewed aloofness with him. That was hardly surprising. Legolas could only imagine what Elrohir must have felt and thought upon awakening the night before to discover that it was not his mate but his brother who had noted his discomfort and seen to its easing.

It did not help that Elrohir had been so strengthened by his night’s repose that he could ride on his own. Once more, it was with Gimli that the woodland prince shared his steed. While he did not desire for Elrohir to remain weak and defenseless, he could not help wishing for any excuse to hold him in his arms once more.

The memory of sweetness on his lips only exacerbated his sense of loss. Elrohir had opened himself to Legolas with his tender actions the day before. It had greatly heartened the prince. But with one simple act of neglect, he had once more given Elrohir reason to doubt whether renewed closeness between them was desirable. After years of putting up with Legolas’ questionable behavior, even the paltriest transgression would be a blow to Elrohir’s faltering trust in his mate. Legolas’ eyes stung with salty moisture as he felt the connection between them waver once more.

So preoccupied was he with his dark thoughts that he progressively grew quieter as they journeyed on. Until at last, he spoke no more unless spoken to. An inquisitive tap on his shoulder called him back to the present.

“What troubles you, Legolas?” Gimli asked with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Why so sad?”

The Elven prince sighed. It humbled him remembering how even Gimli had thought to inquire about Elrohir’s state of being the night before. “Before the attack yesterday, Elrohir told me that as his mate, I leave much to be desired,” he said miserably. He waited for the Dwarf’s response. When none was forthcoming, he knew Gimli was trying to be kind by saying nothing. “You agree with him,” Legolas murmured dejectedly.

Behind him he heard Gimli huff uncomfortably. Finally, the Dwarf replied. “‘Tis just that I have been observing you and, well, you don’t comport yourself as I’ve seen other mated Elves do. You don’t appreciate his efforts to take care of you and you don’t seem inclined to take care of him much either. I confess I find it strange, my friend.”

Legolas felt his heart constrict with even more guilt. If Gimli had noticed his negligence almost at once then what must other Elves have thought all this time? More importantly, what had that done to Elrohir? Suddenly, he realized how mortifying it must have been for the warrior to endure the pity of everyone around them for only a blind Elf would not have seen how Legolas treated him. A shudder rippled through his lean frame as the image of the Elf-knight putting up a brave front flashed through his mind.

Gimli felt his distress and, in a bid to soothe him, said, "'Tis not something you cannot undo, Legolas. And he will appreciate any effort on your part to make amends.”

“More likely he is already beginning to doubt whether I am worth his time,” Legolas replied tightly.

Gimli snorted. “Nay, Elrohir would never do that,” he said sagely. “He loved you for years before you knew it. That won’t cease now that he has won you.”

“Won me, Gimli?” the archer laughed bitterly then choked. “I am no prize. Indeed, ‘tis a wonder he puts up with me and my failings.”

Gimli patted his arm comfortingly. “Now, now, laddie, do not be defeated ere the fight has even begun.” He chuckled when the archer started at his choice of words. “This is a fight, Legolas, make no mistake. And victory nothing less than your love together. Is that not something worth struggling for?”

Legolas was silent for a while. But finally, he glanced back at his friend, a faint smile on his lips. “Aye, it is,” he softly replied. “He is.”

“Then go to it, Elf,” Gimli grinned. “Give it your all.”

*******

The day passed without incident much to Elrohir’s relief. Though his weakness was slowly waning he still felt less than his usual robust self. And the cold continued to gnaw at him with tiresome tenacity. Once they set up camp, he edged close to the fire, pulling his cloak close around him as he had done the previous night. Elladan and Gimli sat a short distance away discussing the best route to take in the morning. Legolas stood to one side, listening to their conversation but saying nothing. Elrohir sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

“Are you weary, meleth?”—love?

He glanced up as Legolas dropped down beside him. After an awkward pause, he nodded. “Somewhat. Sleep should refresh me.”

Legolas, his eyes on the fire, hesitated before speaking again. “Do you still feel the cold?” he asked, his cheeks turning rosy.

Elrohir noted his embarrassment and realized the archer was discomfited by his negligence of the previous night. “Nothing a blazing fire and a thick cloak cannot mend,” he answered quietly. Legolas bit his lip then looked at him. The warrior could not miss the pleading in the sapphire pools. “Or a warm embrace,” he softly added.

The flicker of relief in the archer’s eyes was unmistakable. Legolas smiled timidly. “Then let me hold you while you sleep,” he offered.

“I would like that,” Elrohir replied with an answering smile.

Swiftly, Legolas undid his cloak and spread it on the grass as protection for the ailing Elf against the chill ground. Then he unclasped Elrohir’s cloak as well before gently laying him down upon the spread out mantle. Lying beside the warrior, he drew the latter’s cloak over their bodies then enfolded his spouse in his arms to hold him close.

Gimli chuckled when he saw what his friend was about. “At least, he is trying to set things right,” he commented to Elladan.

The Elf-lord regarded his twin and law-brother with a slight smile. “Aye, ‘tis a start.” He shook his head bemusedly. “I wonder at Elrohir’s fortitude,” he admitted. “I would not put up with such mistreatment were I in his place.”

Gimli grunted disbelievingly. “Were it Nimeithel who treated you so shabbily I wager you would be as forbearing as your brother,” he gibed. “Do not try to dupe me, Master Elf. I have been around your kind far longer than any sensible Dwarf ought!”

Elladan had to grin at the Dwarf’s insightful observation. “I will not debate this with you, Gimli,” he smiled. “Now, who will take first watch?”

“I will,” Gimli decided. “I am still wound up from riding that nervous beast Legolas calls a horse!” He gestured with his head in the two Elves’ direction. “What of them?”

Elladan looked back then shook his head. “Elrohir needs all the rest he can get,” he said. “And for this night I would have Legolas look after him. Let us share the watch between the two of us, my friend.”

The Dwarf nodded and picked up his axe. Just before he strode away, he looked once more at Elladan and said with surprising astuteness, “You shouldn’t worry about your wife overmuch, Peredhel. She’s a sight safer where she is, with midwives and healers about, than where we are right now.”

With that he walked away leaving Elladan to stare at him, dumbfounded yet comforted.

Legolas came awake several hours later, noting when Gimli came back to rouse Elladan. He watched as the older twin took up his weapons and disappeared into the shadows beyond the reach of the campfire’s light. Gimli, on the other hand, promptly threw himself down on the opposite side of the fire. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

Legolas relaxed and shifted to check on Elrohir. The younger twin had turned away from him in his sleep but remained close within his embrace. Legolas gently brushed strands of blue-black hair from his cheek. In doing so, he became aware of Elrohir’s singular scent. He bent lower and inhaled it deeply. The clean rushing waters of the Bruinen came to mind. And the heather and pine on the hills of the vale. As well as sunshine and fresh air and meadows bedecked with wildflowers. It was wondrous. It was intoxicating. It was arousing.

Legolas tensed as he felt his body come alive and begin to demand release. Just his scent is enough to stir me, he thought with mingled awe and agitation. With each passing year, the Elf-knight became more and more of an irresistible temptation to him no matter now hard he struggled against it. He tried to suppress his need and moved slightly away from Elrohir.

It proved an unwise action for his darkling spouse, seeking his warmth even in sleep, pressed back against him even more closely than before. Legolas groaned as his groin told him most insistently that it was in dire need of attention. He peered down at his sleeping mate. It was yet another mistake.

His face aglow in the golden firelight, thickly lashed eyes closed in peaceful repose, sinuous lips slightly parted, Elrohir looked charmingly innocent, breathtakingly handsome and criminally enticing. There might have been an Elf in Arda who could resist this snare but Legolas knew himself not to be that Elf.

He stole a glance at Gimli. That one would not wake up for anything less clamorous than a pack of screaming orcs. And Elladan...well, even if Elladan did look their way, which was unlikely given that he had just started his watch, the older twin was too seasoned a practitioner of the love-arts to be shocked.

Giving in to his desire, he pushed the dark tresses from the warrior’s neck and bent to press heated kisses against its length, suckling the sweet flesh here and there. At the same time, his hand slipped beneath the cloak to quickly loosen the lacing on his breeches. Done with that, he slid his hand around Elrohir’s hips and deftly undid his breeches as well.

Elrohir felt himself slowly roused from the depths of slumber by the searing caresses on his neck. Disoriented, he became aware of the prince’s lips on his skin and wondered confusedly what time it was that Legolas should be doing such things to him. And then he felt warm fingers slide beneath his trousers to fondle him and he came fully awake from the shock.

“Legolas!” he gasped as the archer stroked him purposefully. “What-what are you – do-doing—?” he managed to utter.

Legolas did not answer him but claimed his mouth with a ravaging kiss when he turned his head to look at him. When Elrohir involuntarily jerked away from his unbidden caresses, he swiftly sneaked his other arm under and around the Elf-knight’s body and pulled him back tightly against his own form. Robbed of speech, held snugly in his mate’s unyielding embrace, Elrohir could only try to hold on to his sentience as he was skillfully brought to full arousal.

His breath caught when the archer pressed insistently against him from behind. A telltale hardness made patently clear what Legolas’ intentions were. As did the sudden hitching up of his tunic and shirt and the yanking down of his breeches to bare his backside. Before he could protest, the prince entered him in one fluid thrust. He barely managed to bite back a cry.

It was so sudden, so unlooked for. Caught completely by surprise, he could only submit to Legolas’ desire. He stifled one moan, failed to suppress another, as Legolas drove relentlessly into him even as the archer’s hand rhythmically stroked his swollen length. The build up of tension and pleasure was fast and furious. He could hear the bit-back feral sounds coming from Legolas, the ragged breathing that foretold the explosive culmination sure to follow. Legolas’ rapidly mounting rapture invaded his senses even as his flooded the archer’s. He threw his head back against the prince’s shoulder, his own body as taut as a too tight bowstring about to snap.

And then it did. And he was gasping hoarsely from the maelstrom of shared sensation seeping into every nook and cranny of his body; shuddering as Legolas took him hard and full as he, too, came to completion.

For a long while they lay quietly, waiting for their hearts to slow down, their breathing to deepen once more. Legolas felt the lovely euphoria that came with their joint release envelope him like a warm blanket. Wordlessly, he hitched up their breeches then pressed a last kiss against Elrohir’s neck. He colored slightly when he saw the number of crimson marks he had left on the pale skin.

Elrohir heard the prince’s sigh of gratification. He closed his eyes wearily, fumbling with the laces of his breeches. He was sated, true; had enjoyed the sensations that had swept through and over his entire being. But he had been so fatigued and needful of sleep when Legolas had roused him. Now he was exhausted anew. He resisted his body’s urge to relax and lie back. He did not want to mar Legolas’ contentment and he would surely do so should the archer catch a glimpse of his face.

But he did not reckon with the prince’s growing sensitivity to the nuances of his demeanor. Legolas did not fail to notice the curious tension in his body, his refusal to turn over and lie back comfortably. Unease filled his mind. What was wrong?

“Aduial?” he whispered. “What is it? What ails you?” He noted Elrohir’s start of surprise; realized the Elf-knight had thought he would not notice his unusual behavior. “Elrohir, were you not – were you not pleased?” he asked uncertainly. “Did I hurt you?”

Elrohir had to respond. “Nay, you did not hurt me,” he murmured. “Nor did you displease me.”

“Then why do I feel that I did?” came the low, suddenly insecure voice.

It was too much. He could not leave Legolas feeling thus. He lay back and looked up into the archer’s anxious countenance. “How could you displease me?” he softly said. “‘Tis only that I was weary and did not expect this.”

A frown creased the prince’s smooth brow. Suddenly, comprehension smote him with a blistering blast. He stared at the warrior, then let out a sharp breath and lowered his eyes.

“Legolas?” Elrohir stroked the archer’s cheek gently.

The blue eyes lifted to meet his gaze. They were full of shame. “I did it again, didn’t I?” he said in a hushed, pained voice. “I took what I wanted without – without considering your needs.”

Elrohir saw the contrition in the suddenly dulled eyes. He raised his hands, cupped the finely sculpted cheeks in his palms. “I know you meant well, Legolas,” he whispered. “I did not mean to snatch your joy from you.” He pulled him down into a deep kiss.

Legolas clung to him, returning the kiss with a fervor closer to desperation than affection. When the caress ended, he laid his head on the warrior’s shoulder and mournfully said: “I am sorry I disturbed your rest. I only wanted you so much that I did not stop to think about how you might feel about it.”

He bit his lip to keep it from trembling. One thing he could not bring himself to do and that was to shed tears in front of anyone, not even his Elf-rider. Only once before, more than two millennia ago had he forsaken his pride enough to do so.

Elrohir held him fast. “Do not think your passion unwelcome,” he said soothingly. “Nothing makes me happier than to know you desire me. Especially if you do so out of love for me,” he added quietly.

“I do, melethron”—lover—Legolas whispered earnestly, looking up at the twin. “I would never take you in anything but love.”

Elrohir felt a wave of relief wash through him. Unwittingly, Legolas had answered at least one of his questions about their relationship. Whatever other reasons the archer may have had for being the dominant lover of late, at least, he always did so out of love. That was reassuring to the warrior and infinitely sweet to know.

“Do not let this trouble you further,” he told his golden spouse. “Truly, I enjoyed your attentions. I would not mind being awakened thusly should you think to do this again.” There was a hint of teasing in his tone.

Legolas heard it and had to smile. His anxiety dissipating a little, he put his arms around Elrohir once more. “I told you I would keep you warm while you slept,” he said.

“You did much more than warm me,” Elrohir smiled.

The archer had the grace to blush as he pulled the cloak over them. On the other side of the fire, Gimli slept on, totally oblivious of what had just occurred but a few steps from his position.

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

Glossary:

Aduial - Twilight

To be continued…
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold