Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Arcane Land	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2529 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine, and neither are its characters. I make no money with my writing. This story was written for the simple pleasure of it.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Warning: explicit het, slash and group sex.

Elladan had had to wrench himself from the bath, for he had caught himself falling asleep, the sudden loss of consciousness jerking him back to reality as water sloshed onto the floor. The bathing rooms at the barracks were communal, yet even so, they spared no luxury here either; the plethora of oils, herbs and aromas on offer to the warriors was just as generous as in his rooms at the fortress. Drying himself off, he wandered into the small room he had been assigned, nodding to the warriors that passed him on their way to the baths. Opening his wardrobe as he tied the towel around his middle, he pondered his attire for the evening. He supposed that informal wear would be in order. They would be riding, and then eating and drinking, and more, he supposed, and so he chose a pair of dark blue leggings, his soft leather boots and a deep burgundy tunic over a white, high-collared shirt. Just as he took his brush to his loose hair, a knock at his door revealed Galdithion, dressed in his Home Guard uniform.

“You look lovely, Elladan. Would that I could accompany you, alas I am on duty this evening.”

“Help me?” he asked, holding the brush out to Galdithion, who accepted it with a sweet smile.

He sat behind his lover and began to smooth the long black hair with one hand as he brushed with the other.

“I have heard the men talk of a place called ‘Haven’ – is that where The Company will take us?” asked Elladan.

“’Tis an area near the village of Imderen - one of The Company’s favourite places. A rough, bawdy place, full of warriors and hunters, yet the food and wine is excellent, and there is plenty of company to be had.”

“Ah, and yet perhaps I will not indulge, if you are not there…” he said quietly, yet Galdithion was quick to counter him.

“Oh, but you must! Their offer is – exotic shall we say, you cannot miss out on it, I would never forgive you!”

“Well, if you put it that way, perhaps just a little taste…” he smiled wickedly before Galdithion kissed him, and bid him good night, not before taking one last wistful look at his handsome Noldorin lord.

………………………………………………………………………

Down at the gates, The Company was gathering. They greeted each other effusively and then mercilessly mocked each other for their choice of clothing and accessories, or the scent they had used. In truth, they had all made an effort to look handsome tonight. They had chosen their clothing well, adorned themselves yet no too much, and had braided their hair in a variety of different ways.

The new recruits hovered on the outskirts of the main group, not quite sure of their position within the ranks of this elite detachment. Legolas and Dima had decided to invite them along, in the hope that they would enjoy themselves enough to forget the legend of The Company, and simply enjoy – well, their company.

It was strange to see them in civilian clothing, mused Melven, as he approached, yet he held back a moment to better observe them. They looked colourful and bright, carefree and joyous, not at all the imposing, frightening warriors he had seen on the training field this morning, however obvious it was that they were all unusually strong and fit. It seemed to Melven then, that these forays were their only chance of escape, for during the day, even when off duty, Melven had observed that they were much solicited, that save for the privacy of their family dwellings or their rooms in the barracks, they were always under public scrutiny, unable to just be themselves, relax, be mischievous, lustful, get drunk, play – for the onus of responsibility and expectation was simply too great.

This was, perhaps what had happened to himself in Imladris, yet Melven had not had the company of such close or wise friends to take him away, extract him from his environment into another, anonymous setting, were he could just – be himself…

Lindo saw him first and shouted his greeting and waving him over.

“Melven! Come join us,” he exclaimed as he placed a hand in the small of his back. “You look lovely this evening, my friend,” he said more quietly, watching Melven’s eyes for a reaction, and finding one.

“Thank you, Lindo, as do you,” he replied, his eyes raking appreciatively over the lithe figure of the Bard Warrior. It was enough for Lindo to believe he had a chance with the Noldorin lieutenant, and so he drew him into the circle of off-duty warriors who stood waiting for the last two members of the group.

Legolas arrived with Elladan then, and though neither wore any symbols of station, they were both, unmistakably lords, for they carried themselves with pride and strength, a result of their life-long training as leaders of their people.

“Well, gentlemen. Shall we explain the rules to our new warriors?” asked Legolas rhetorically.

“That would be wise, Hwindo,” replied Koron en’, taking the task upon himself.

“We are known to all, even our names, yet there is an unspoken agreement to not acknowledge us, in case there is unfriendly company. We address each other with our warrior names, no titles, and are otherwise free to do as we please. Is that clear for you all?”

“Crystal clear, it makes perfect sense,” replied Elladan. “It is the same for my brother and I when we ride out with our friends, yet what will we be named?” he asked, gesturing at Melven and himself.

“El and Mel?” suggested Nanern as his mind began to play with what seemed to him the title of a chronicle. “There were once, two Noldorin warriors… El and Mel from Rivendell…”

The Company giggled at his eccentricity, until Hwindo took his saddle, his long green cape swirling behind him, his hair whipping around to settle over one shoulder, trailing down to his brown-clad thigh, and Elladan was struck one more by how beautiful this elf was. There was no placing his origins, for his colouring was of that of the Sindar, his clothes, however, were both Sylvan and Gondolidrim, as were his accessories. He was a child of Elvendom, and Elladan wondered then, if he had any Noldorin blood in his veins.

Once all were seated, the gate keepers began to turn the handles that would open the heavy oak, smiling as they watched their warriors ride out for a night of fun – for the Valar knew they deserved it, more than most. Too often had they seen their tears at the funeral rites for lost warriors, or their pain and suffering after a skirmish in the woods.

Thus, The Company rode out; the shy group of new recruits for their first night of fun, together with Hwindohtar, Dimaethor, Pengon, Koron en’ Naur, Ram en’ Ondo, Idrenohtar, Nanern, Lindohtar, and, of course, Elladan and Melven, who was blissfully unaware that he was about to gain his very own warrior name.
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They had maintained a soft canter for most of the way there, over green fields, through glades and copses, up and down the majestic, rolling hills, only slowing to a trot when traversing the more populated areas.

It was dark now, and Elladan could make out many lights high up in the trees. Lindo had explained to them both that in this area, the population preferred to live in flets. There were some buildings on the ground, but they tended to be barns for domestic animals and for storage purposes.

They received many bows and waves along the way, and The Company would always respond, lifting their hands or nodding their heads. They were neither arrogant nor boastful of the attention they received, for the concept of service to others had been drilled into them since they were cadets. Indeed arrogance was scorned upon, one of the reasons why Barathon was so unpopular, for he flaunted his exalted line like a trophy, singing his own, supposed merits to any that would listen, which was the majority, for it would be considered rude to ignore one of the royal family. Hence Legolas had not extended an invitation to his cousin, for he knew it would spoil their night.

They soon slowed to a walk as they entered a village, Imderen, Elladan supposed. The dwellings here were both elevated and on the ground, and there was no mistaking the large, well-lit establishment at the end of the main pathway, they had arrived at Haven.

They came to a halt half-way down the lane, where a crowd of stable lads flooded out of the well-appointed building, strangely large for a village so small. Melven guessed that Haven must be a popular inn indeed, for the village seemed to rotate around it, grown disproportionately to its population.

It was not long before The Company were handing over their horses to the enthusiastic boys, who called the warriors by their names, asking after the battles they had fought. Those simply passing by had stopped to watch, smiling as the warriors ruffled the boys’ hair, observing the looks of awe and worship on their young, innocent faces. Once they were free to continue on foot, the villagers held out their arms to the group, which was, once more, answered by a reverent bow from them all.

Huddling together now, they strode down the path as inconspicuously as they could, which was not at all, until they were before the open doors of Haven. The whole building glowed a bright orange, the sounds of laughing and shouting, singing and whooping seemed strangely out of place in elven society, and it seemed to Elladan that the entire village was inside, for all he could make out through the many open windows, was a sea of heads. It reminded him of Bree, but without the filth and stench of that human village on the outskirts of his homeland.

It was Hwindohtar who first crossed the threshold, for although this was not a military mission, the warriors would always treat their commander with the utmost deference. The noise level dropped momentarily, before picking up again, each group returning to their own private parties. They had been seen, and the unspoken pact clicked into place. If this inn wanted The Company to continue coming, they would leave them to their devices, and make sure they were not harassed.

An elf in a long apron stood before Legolas then, bowing before addressing the lord.

“Hwindo. We are most honoured to serve you and The Company once more,” he said humbly.

“Thank you, Lithônion. We require the usual services today, as we celebrate the arrival of two new members of our group, and five trainees,” smiled Legolas as he glanced at Elladan and Melven, effectively directing the innkeeper’s line of sight.

“Then be you most welcome, warriors of The Company, I hope you have a pleasant stay with us.”

“You are most kind, Lithônion,” replied Elladan graciously.

They were ushered into an exclusive corner where a large round table had already been cleared and prepared for them, for it was clean, its candles lit, and wine already stood at its centre, nine goblets arranged around its perimeter. The innkeeper soon arrived with seven more, adjusting the others so that they were equidistant. Elladan was struck by the realization that these people knew how many warriors were presently in The Company – for there should have been twenty, and yet there were nine – and nine goblets.

Soon, they were all removing their capes and gloves, and seating themselves around the table. Two females were soon attending to them, taking their order for food. Both Elladan and Melven had deferred to their colleagues, for they had no idea what to order. The other five sat silently, obediently, yet The Company had not allowed them to sit together.

“This is the house wine; it is produced not far from here, an excellent vintage that Hwindo’s father is very partial to,” said Ram en’.

“I am sure it is very good,” replied Melven, somewhat stiffly.

“Agh, they will soon loosen up after a few cups!” exclaimed Pengon loudly, to which there was a thundering “ah” as a reply.

The wine promptly fell into eager hands as each raised their goblet and turned their heads to Hwindo.

“I have two announcements to make. First, we, The Company, wish to welcome Melven Hadorion and Elladan Elrondion into our brotherhood. We wish you strength and wisdom, love and joy. Welcome!”

“Welcome!” they all thundered, before cheering and clapping the now smiling Noldorin warriors upon the shoulder, and then taking another generous gulp from their goblets.

“Also, five of our candidates accompany us today, in the hope that we will come to know each other better, welcome to you also, my friends, relax, for there is no scrutiny tonight.”

The five recruits were as red as a beetroot, yet they smiled shyly. Legolas had been right, thought Dima – they were over-awed, and this was the best way to get that out of their system.

“The second announcement, is that Melven Hadorion has been baptized, by me!”

The cheers went up again, but soon quietened as they settled down for the tale.

“It happened in Finlond…” he was promptly interrupted by a series of jeers and bawdy laughter, before Legolas held up his arms for silence.

“We had both received the most exquisite of attentions and Hadorion was in danger of falling asleep, or so it seemed to me. I decided then, that there would be no better way to show our friend the wonders of the Evergreen Wood, and so I dared him…”

More jeering and more than a few flapping arms told Legolas that they were immersed in the story, and so he continued with mischievous relish.

“Now, we all know that dares in the Greenwood are not for the weak-hearted, and so I thought I would put our new comrade to the test, for we want no weaklings here!” he said emphatically, as he took a swig of his wine as his lips curled upwards, enjoying the charade.

Now Melven remained quiet, and Elladan was trying his hardest to be sympathetic with his friend, but he kept snorting into his cup, which amplified the sound so that it was audible to all, including Melven, a situation that soon had the new recruits giggling nervously as they turned to stare at the commander, seeing him for the first time as a comrade rather than as a commander, a king.

“Well, I dared him to do as I did, exactly – and that whatever I did, he must mirror it without hesitation – a test of trust, for I could very well have sent him to his death – I asked him to discard his senses, my friends, and that is no easy task.”

“Out with it Hwindo – what the blazes did you do?” shouted Pengon, unable to reign in his enthusiasm, to which Legolas and the others laughed – except Melven of course.

“Well, it is like this,” he said, gulping down more of the vintage, “we were, of course, both as naked as the day we were born, our bodies worked and anointed, massaged and pampered…”

“Ahh, Hwindo!” The noise level was rising with every sentence that Legolas uttered, which was, of course, his intention.

“I rose from the bed, and ran like the wind for the entrance to the Evergreen Wood, which most of you, of course, already know…”

“And Melven ran after you?” asked Lindo enthusiastically.

“That he did, Lindo. Nary a question, he simply accepted the challenge and dashed after me, as fast as his bare legs could carry him…”

“OOOoooh,” they jeered, imagining the lovely Melven in all his naked glory, trying to keep up with Hwindo. Elladan was surprised to see the Bard Warrior slap at his comrades at their jeering, almost as if he felt possessive, which Elladan decided he probably was.

“Now, as you know, the hill at the opening that leads to the falls is steep indeed, and once momentum is caught, it cannot be stopped. Realizing this, our Melven began a keening lament, akin to the mating call of the brown wolf,” he said poetically, waiting for the laughter to die down before he continued.

“On and on it went, waaaaaooooaaaaaooooo,” he imitated as he rolled his eyes around. By now, The Company was in hysterics, and almost the entire inn was looking their way, most with an indulgent smile on their faces, even the recruits were hunched over each other, slapping each other on the backs.

“And then,” he gasped, “seeing that the ground disappeared beneath his feet, the wail became the highest-pitched scream I have ever heard emitted by a male – of any species!”

And that was it; Pengon had slipped to the floor and Ram en’ banged his fist on the wall behind him as a mortified Melven lent his forehead on the table, a clapping, wheezing Elladan behind him.

Even the recruits were gasping along with the rest of them, one of them, Beria, coughing desperately, the wine having gone down the wrong way.

Finally, after straightening their clothes, wiping the tears from their eyes, and in Pengon’s case, seating himself once more, Legolas continued, although now, his tone was very different.

“You see, it was indeed very funny, yet my point in telling this tale is the following. Melven’s unexpected jump off the cliff was no simple involuntary dive, it was a leap of faith, my friends. He believed that I would allow no harm to come to him, he trusted me with his life, and so I say Melven is brave and true, worthy indeed of the office he now trains for. Therefore, my friends, I announce that Melven Hadorion be known as such no more, for I have named him Glammohtar, the Screaming Warrior.

Melven’s head had risen once more to hear the words that Legolas spoke. Glammohtar… Glamo, they would call him. It sounded good as long as you didn’t know the origin of it, for it spoke of the terror he would strike into the hearts of the enemy… he smiled then as silence reigned around him, and The Company watched his face change from mortification to pleased satisfaction.

“I am… honoured, to hold this name, and to be a part of The Company – I hope that my adjustment training is satisfactory enough to be able to fulfill my duties with you, legendary warriors of the Greenwood.”

And to his utter surprise, the whole inn cheered, for they had listened to every word that Legolas, and then Melven, had said.

“Glammohtar! Glammohtar!” they cheered, forcing Melven to his feet to bow gracefully to them all, a surprised yet thoroughly joyous expression on his face. Behind him, Lindo took his hand and squeezed it, bringing Melven’s attention to his eyes. They beheld each other as the background noise faded somewhat, enough for Melven to hear Lindo’s words.

“Glammohtar, it sounds deadly, frightening, ‘tis a good name for a good elf,” he smiled.

“Thank you – perhaps we can celebrate together later?”

Melven could not believe what he had just said – how had he had the cold blood to just come out with that? The Greenwood was affecting him, yet Lindo was beaming happily, his pearly white teeth visible behind his lovely pink lips.

“I would like that very much,” he whispered.

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The food was both hearty and abundant – the table covered with wooden bowls full of meats and stews, bread and vegetables, cheese and fruit, and of course, the wine which continued to flow, as the warriors conversed and ate, joked and reminisced.

Melven had had the best night of his life – he had made new friends, had been called brave, baptized with his new warrior name. He had laughed and conversed as equal to equal, and he had a date.

Elladan too, had felt most comfortable, had come to know his new comrades and had laughed harder than he had in a long time, the only ingredient missing was the fact that he did not have a warrior name, and he realized with puerile indignation, that he wanted one.

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They had effectively consumed the food and wine, and were all both pleasantly sated and slightly inebriated, enough to loosen tongues and inhibitions, and so it was, that conversation waxed poetic, turning to the recent loss of Imrathon, of his family and the grief of his young son. Elladan and Melven sat silently, listening respectfully to their words, observing their downturned brows and choked voices. During a lull in their conversation, Lindohtar, the Bard Warrior stood and began to sing.

His voice was a clear contralto, soft and emotive – then strong and soul-lifting. He sung a capella, no music to accompany him, and yet each note was perfectly entoned, the words clearly articulated. He sang of war and loss, love and honour, family and duty. It was a song of life in the forest, of their joy and their suffering, and the warriors’ part in defense of all they held dear.

The inn had become silent once more as Lindo’s sweet voice filled it, his audience still and pensive, listening to the words he projected with such deep emotion, reflecting on each of their faces.

The song came softly to an end, and curiously, there was no clapping, no overt sign of appreciation at all. Elladan supposed it was a sign of respect, similar to the songs and lays sang at funeral rites.

It was Koron who took the initiative then, standing and raising his almost depleted goblet, and in the process, completely breaking the solemn moment.

“And so I say to you, my brothers, that Imrahthon would want us to enjoy ourselves here, now, while we can, for he, now, would say ‘My wine is all but gone, and my desire but awakening to the night. Who will follow me to Haven?’”

“I,” they all thundered as they stood and reached for their capes and gloves and pulling them on. Dima strode aside the five recruits, smiling at them, before clapping them on the backs. He received five rueful smiles in return. Well, they were still shy, but they had also come a long way, and the captain decided that he was satisfied, for the moment.

They moved as one towards the bar, where Lithônion bowed once more to them.

Once the bill had been settled, Legolas addressed the solicitous inn-keeper once more.

“Please invite all those present, in remembrance of the fallen,” he said softly, to which Lithônion smiled kindly, before nodding, and taking the more than generous provision. It was not long before the entire inn flooded the bar, in search of their drink.

As the Company crossed the threshold once more and into the fresh evening breeze, they did so to the thundering salute of the many voices still inside.

“Imrathon, Himaethor, Luthohtar, Berthohtar, Raugohtar,” the noise petered out, but a tear sprang to their eyes at the mention of their fallen friends, each one of them remembered by those they had sacrificed themselves for - friends they hoped they would one day encounter again, in Valinor, or beyond.

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The night was pleasantly cool as The Company traversed a green field behind the inn. Elladan had imagined that Haven would be some kind of building, yet there was nothing of the sort to be seen, only a treeline some meters ahead. Koron en’ leaned into him then, speaking softly.

“Haven is a wood, Elladan. ‘Tis not a brothel, for these elves do not ask favours in return for sex. It is simply a place to share oneself, to give and receive pleasure in whichever shape or form takes ones fancy. There are dominant or submissive elves, groups that work together, lovers of bondage, of slapping, exhibitionism, everything you can imagine.”

“But how will I know what each elf is interested in?” asked a wide-eyed Elladan.

“Each elf is dressed such that you should be able to guess, yet if you are unsure, you should ask, lest you hurt someone’s feelings.”

Taking a deep breath, Elladan nodded as they finally stepped into the wood, The Company beginning to break up. They had two hours before regrouping at the stables for the ride back – two hours that would stay with the Noldorin lieutenants for the rest of their lives.

Elladan could see Melven walking away with Lindo, the Sylvan’s arm wrapped around Melven’s middle, and soon enough, Elladan found himself alone. He walked slowly, taking in the sights around him. Just ahead of him, he began to make out figures that stood still, watching him.

One female lent back against a tree, one breast hanging outside her bodice as she caressed herself, watching the dark warrior as he walked passed her. A male clad entirely in black stood, his posture imposing, his gaze both mean and aggressive. Moving on, he next saw a group of three females and one male, sitting around a tree, one female bent between the legs of another, while the male stroked himself languidly, looking at Elladan and smiling.

Well, this was as good a place as any to start, thought Elladan, as he sank to his knees and took the male’s lips in a seething kiss.

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Lindo led Melven further into the wood, where two women were kissing against a tree. As the males approached, they turned to look at them, a predatory gleam in their eyes as they sunk to their knees, deftly unlaced the warriors’ breeches, and engulfed their semi-rigid cocks, eliciting dual groans of delight as they were sucked mercilessly. Lindo turned to look at Melven, who had thrown his head back in delight. Reaching out to him, he took a lock of hair and pulled him in to kiss him for the first time. It was soft and sweet and Melven’s eyes widened slightly at the wonderful sensation that enfused his entire body. Cupping Lindo’s face with one hand, he kissed him back, watching his eyes as they closed in delight, and then opened in adoration…

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Legolas moved stealthily through the forest, extending his senses to the trees that populated it. They seemed happy enough, their hum contented and oblivious to the plight of their companions to the south. He stopped then, for he spied a lovely male reclining decadently over a fallen trunk, his pert, bare ass glowing under the light of the moon that filtered between the leaves.

Gliding over to him, he stood before him, his groin directly in front of the rosy wet lips, a tongue emerging to lick over them once more.

Tentative hands reached for the lacings of his breeches, and Legolas allowed it, keeping his own arms at his sides.

The hands parted the now loosened cloth and delved for the treasure inside, which was now half-hard. Hwindo felt the hands trace it, squeeze it, reach for the balls, revealing them, before a deliciously wet mouth engulfed him to the hilt, reminding Legolas of the head that Gildor had given him that afternoon in Imladris.

He gasped as he rocked forward, although he could slide in no further; he thought then that he must be choking his lover, but as he looked down, the blue eyes shone back up at him, not a hint of distress, only lust.

The sight sent his heart racing and he suddenly felt the urge to take this angelic one right over the trunk before him.

As if reading his thoughts, his lover withdrew his mouth and smiled, before sliding up to stand and kiss his lover passionately. He knew who this was, and the rumours had been far from exaggerated, they were all true – for he was glory to behold, and he so very lucky to have been in the right place at the right time. He wanted to devour him, his lips, his eyes, his neck, his sex, he wanted this elf to take him and dominate him, make him come as he had never done before. He would not boast about it though, for to do so would be to break his trust, for there was a silent agreement between this elf and the citizens of his nation. Should he wish to visit Haven, or an inn, take his rest outside the fortress and away from duty, his loyal subjects would allow him his privacy, for he was loved and respected above all others, on a par, even, with their liege lord.

“Take me?” he said, somewhat uncertainly, for why would an elf such as he wish to take a lowly farmer’s boy when he could choose between the crème of Avarin, Sylvan and Sindarin society, indeed even the Noldorin?

“I will,” he replied, his lips almost touching those of the lovely elf that had offered himself so hopefully, so endearingly. Legolas felt a surge of affection then, strange when in a situation such as this, where anonymity reigned and pure sex came to the fore. Yet this lad had struck a soft spot in him, and so he raked his strong fingers through his copper hair and kissed his way from ear to nipple, enjoying the moans and cries he was creating, and which in turn set his body aflame.

“You are lovely, sweet one. Yield to me now, for I will have you.”

“Oh yes, please. There is nothing in this world that could please me more, than to feel you come inside me.”

Legolas could hold himself back no longer, for this elf was enticing him most effectively, and so he pushed him commandingly down onto the fallen log, turned him onto his stomach, pulled down his breaches and stood back to look.

The youth was breathing hard as he struggled to open his legs, yet his leggings would not allow him the freedom of movement he desired, and so Legolas removed them completely, leaving him clothed from the waist up.

“Open your legs,” he commanded, and was obeyed immediately.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, wondering if he should prepare him.

“I am ready for you, my Lord, for I have been fucked twice this night, yet none will satisfy me as I know you will.”

The admission of promiscuity had the odd effect of heightening his need most acutely, as he moved in, removing his own leggings yet leaving his boots.

“You are quite the slut then, are you not?” asked Legolas softly, knowing his words would be well received.

“Yes,” he said huskily, “I am your slut now, to do with as you please.”

And he did, impaling the youth on his rigid cock, he struck up a rhythm that soon had his lover moaning beautifully, as his own gasps escaped him.

“Please, take your pleasure, that I may serve you,” he begged then, taking Legolas to the brink of orgasm.

“Come with me, for I wish to feel your pulsing channel – milk me to completion – slut.”

It was enough to finish the lad, for he wailed as his seed left him, spurting over the log that maintained him upright. He heard then, the gasps of he that took him, as the hot seed flooded him – it was enough to make him come once more, shouting his surprise and pleasure as his lover thrust the last of his essence inside him, wrenching his second orgasm from him.

“You would become rich were you to work at Finlond, my friend, I swear you would make a wonderful courtesan.”

“Me? I am not educated, I am but a lowly farmer’s son, I would be scourned and mocked.”

“Nay – not so. Should you wish it, come to me at the fortress – I will see it done, for I know that Minu and Imrah will instruct you well,” he said, as he withdrew, standing and cleaning himself off before donning his leggings.

The youth was slower to rise, the idea of Finlond swimming around inside his furiously working mind.

“Do you truly mean what you say? For my parents are poor, yet I have never considered being paid for the enjoyment that Haven brings me – yet neither am I disgusted at the prospect.”

“And neither should you be, for should you venture to the fortress, you will see that courtesans are well-considered, my friend, make no mistake. I know you will do well – I ask only that you think on it.”

“I will – and I thank you, for such pleasure you have brought me this night. Safe journey home, and may Yavanna guard you,” he said solemnly then, watching as his lover smiled beautifully.

“Thank you. Take good care of yourself, and remember, my offer stands for whenever you are ready to take it up.”

He smiled once more, before Legolas turned, and walked away.

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Arcane Land