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Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6471 -:- 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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Title: Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble

Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)

Pairings: Elrohir/Legolas, Elladan/OFC (Nimeithel)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Baby-sitting Elladan’s rambunctious twins can lead to the most interesting situations as Legolas and Elrohir discover.

Disclaimer: I write for the sheer love of it. All else belongs to the master of storytelling, JRR Tolkien.

Double Trouble

Chapter I

Imladris FA 60

Golden light streamed through the veiled windows as Anór slowly made her ascent into the early morning sky. But to Elrohir, her bright glimmer was no match for the incandescence of his shining prince. He let out a shuddery breath as each lowering motion of Legolas’ hips gloved him in sweet velvet heat.

In the throes of passion, Legolas was ever more beautiful to behold. That only he had the privilege and the right to see the archer thusly was a gift the Elf-knight never took for granted. He gazed intently at his mate as the other slid down upon his swollen length, willingly piercing himself with each sinuous movement. Crystalline eyes glazed with rapture, rosy lips parted in ecstasy, ivory skin stained with the faintest of color, he repeatedly sheathed his darkling spouse in the silken core of his being.

Twilight eyes gleaming lustfully, Elrohir released his hold on the prince’s proud length and reached for the latter’s hand. He guided it to the archer’s shaft, curled it around the turgid column, then wrapped his own hand around the prince’s. He smiled when Legolas’ eyes widened questioningly.

Pleasure yourself, melethron.

The prince’s cheeks flushed with deeper color but he obeyed. His breathing turned ragged as he became conscious of the sweeping gaze of his spouse, watching his pleasure-suffused countenance, dropping lazily in appreciative regard of his slender yet muscular form straddling him before settling on the steady stroking of their coupled hands upon his length. A throaty moan escaped his lips. Even the way the Elf-knight looked at him had the power to undo him.

Sensation swept through the binding-channel as they wholly surrendered themselves to their joining. The sight of Legolas with golden head thrown back in the extremes of rapture, gasping helplessly as he came to the brink of completion pushed Elrohir over the edge as well.

He hastened their shared caressing even as he thrust his hips up to take the archer deep and hard, spending himself copiously within his mate. Legolas unraveled completely. Barely stifling a keening cry, he sobbed out Elrohir’s name as his body exploded with his release, dappling the Elf-knight’s chest with his pearlescent seed.

He all but collapsed onto Elrohir’s chest. For several moments, they lay quietly, waiting for their hearts to slow down, their breathing to deepen. Legolas raised himself slightly to gaze at his mate, resting one arm on the twin’s chest. Elrohir looked him over languidly. Silver gold hair tousled, fair skin marked with crimson and purple bruises, Legolas looked thoroughly debauched and thoroughly loved.

“Have I ever told you how prettily you blush?” Elrohir teased softly.

Legolas’ eyes flashed objectingly at the use of the term “pretty.” He was about to make a retort when something crashed against their door. No, make that two things. Elflings on the cusp of adolescence to be precise.

The prince stared in apprehension at the door, expecting it to burst wide open and reveal him still atop and astride Elrohir, as bare as the day he was born and in the most indecent of poses. But though the insistent pounding on the other side continued, the door did not yield.

“Elros! Elendir! I would have a word with you two!”

Iorwen’s exasperated outburst elicited a duet of chortles before the sound of fading footfalls announced the departure of the second set of twins to grace – or plague – the Last Homely House’s hallowed halls.

Legolas sank back down on Elrohir’s chest with relief. The Elf-knight chuckled. “You need not have worried. I bolted the door last night.”

Legolas looked up at him with some amusement. “How foresighted of you,” he remarked.

“Only prepared,” Elrohir said. “Think you I would leave anything to chance with those two around?” He reached behind and caressed his golden mate’s firm but nicely rounded bottom. “I have no liking for interruptions particularly when you are so deliciously engrossed in your riding.”

Legolas snickered then moved to get off his spouse. Elrohir held him down firmly.

“Nay.”

Legolas stared at him, heat beginning to pool in his groin all over again.

”What of breakfast?” he inquired, not really interested in said meal.

Elrohir rolled them over. He grinned wickedly at his once again rosy-hued mate.

“This is breakfast enough for me,” he drawled. And bent to partake of his spouse’s ample offerings.

It was late morning when he came upon Elladan in the archery yard, overseeing his sons’ training. While the warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, were more than capable of instructing the twins in weaponry use, Elladan still personally took part in their lessons. He was merely following in his father’s footsteps for Elrond had done the same even if his sons had been under the able tutelage of Glorfindel and Erestor.

Elrohir smiled approvingly as his nephews showed time and again that they were indeed their father’s sons. Elladan’s proud countenance betrayed much the same sentiment, only greater.

“So, why was Iorwen after the pin nith”—young ones—“this morning?” the younger twin asked. The housekeeper’s ire had not dissipated by the time he and Legolas had emerged from their chamber, her black mood palpable in every word and deed and scowl.

Elladan’s smile faded and he sighed, shaking his head. “She had bread dough rising overnight,” he said. “They made good use of it. You should have seen the kitchen.”

Elrohir did not know whether to groan or laugh. Because of the coolness of early spring, yeast doughs took longer to rise than usual. Hence, Iorwen’s practice of leaving her pans of dough to double in volume overnight. He wondered what Elendir and Elros had done with last night’s batch. On second thought, he decided he did not want to know.

He mildly inquired of his brother if he planned to leave Imladris in shambles. Their father had not left the refuge in their hands only to have it fall apart at the soonest possible opportunity!

Elladan grimaced then rolled his eyes. “Nimeithel and I need a rest,” he said. “A long one!” He regarded his twins with equal parts love and annoyance.

“Then come with me to Lindon this summer,” a deep voice interrupted.

The brethren turned around to affectionately bid their grandsire good morn. Celeborn had come to live with them thirty years ago. Torn between his yearning for his departed wife and the still powerful hold Middle-earth had upon him, the former Lord of the Golden Wood had abandoned East Lórien and come to Imladris to be with his grandsons. In them, he saw glimpses of his beloved lady – in their sage eyes, their indomitable spirits, their blithe beauty. They balmed his lonely spirit as he gradually weaned himself from the allure of these Hither Lands. It was something the brethren understood.

Elves who had never seen the light of the Two Trees, who had not previously tasted the rarified bliss of Valinor could hardly be expected to wish to leave the land of their birth and cleave to one that was foreign to them in every respect. One such as Celeborn, who was amongst the few who had survived through three ages of the world, would also be most hardily bound to Middle-earth. Eventually, his heart’s yearning would win but, for now, he needed to wrestle himself free of the tender fetters of his birthplace.

Elladan considered Celeborn’s invitation. It was not the first time their grandsire had journeyed to Lindon since his arrival in Rivendell. The Grey Havens, too, held memories of his years with Galadriel for they had dwelt there for a time ere they moved east to Lórien.

“‘Tis tempting, Grandfather,” he said. “We have scarcely had any time to ourselves since the twins became more active.”

Elrohir snorted. “I can think of more appropriate words than ‘active,’ gwaniuar”—older twin—he gibed. “They are veritable whirlwinds.”

Celeborn smiled dryly. “Hardly surprising considering your own less than placid childhoods,” he pointed out. “‘Tis a credit to your father that Imladris still stands. Would that it stays standing until you see fit to join him over sea.”

Elrohir guffawed while Elladan could only sigh in resignation. His mind was made up for him a few days later.

Not even in his and Elrohir’s day had the barracks of Rivendell been so set on its figurative head. But what did one expect when virtually every warrior found his beddings infiltrated with sweets that attracted seemingly every ant and other sundry insects with a sweet tooth in the valley! After pacifying the plentiful victims and punishing the two perpetrators of this latest crime, Elladan decided enough was enough. He and his wife would take that much needed rest, thank you!

Elrohir and Legolas knew better than to gainsay him even if the prospect of tending to their unruly nephews for the length of a season was not exactly inviting. When Elladan was in a state of extreme dudgeon, his rage could equal his twin’s and that was an even more fearsome prospect in everyone’s opinion.

*******

The afternoon before their departure, Nimeithel took some time to settle herself after all the hustle and bustle of preparations for a two-month stay at the Grey Havens. She roamed the gardens, letting the colors and fragrances of the blooms and greenery soothe her somewhat frazzled spirit.

Truth be told, she felt a little melancholic this day. Elladan had not been exaggerating when he declared they’d hardly had time together for so long. But even more lacking than the length of time was the quality of it. Even intimacy, or rather the spontaneity and variety of it, had been sorely lacking. In this she was more at fault than Elladan.

So taken had she been with motherhood that she not been as attentive to her beloved husband. Hopefully, this sojourn away from the cares and worries of raising their twins would help mend things. But she was conscious of a need to do something more active in hastening said mending.

She came upon the summerhouse at length and paused to regard it curiously. She knew it had been seldom visited in the years after Celebrían’s departure and the reasons for such neglect. She herself had only entered the cottage twice before and that had been during her first years of marriage to Elladan.

But in recent years, Elrohir had taken it and transformed it into a retreat for himself and Legolas. Nimeithel realized she had not yet seen what changes her law-brother had wrought upon the cottage. Her curiosity got the better of her and she pushed open the door.

She never got to study any alterations in detail. For as she stepped into the summerhouse, her attention was snagged by the most telling of sounds. She froze. Was that a – a moan?

A wooden latticed panel by the door served as a divider between entrance and main hall. Cautiously, noiselessly, she peered through the latticework into the main hall. She nearly gasped out loud.

Two magnificent forms reclined on the thick rug in the center of the hall. Two magnificent forms presently indulging in the most intimate of encounters.

Nimeithel’s eyes widened at this sight of her brother and law-brother. She had always known of their passion, their vigorous loving. But to be aware of their concupiscence was one thing; to actually witness it was an entirely different matter.

Trembling nervously, she moved to retreat before either became aware of her presence. That was when Legolas uttered the most unusual of sounds. It told of exquisite torment, the likes of which she had never heard before from her own husband. What in Arda could the Elf-knight be doing to elicit such a vocal testament of excruciating bliss from her brother?

Drawing a deep breath, she peered once more into the main hall. And all but goggled. A few moments later her brother found blessed if explosive relief. He lay panting, staring dazedly at Elrohir as he crept up between his thighs, too spent to do much more than whimper.

When Elrohir, smiling wickedly, urged the fair archer’s legs around his waist, Nimeithel knew she had seen enough. She did not think her proud, fierce warrior brother would appreciate the idea of anyone watching him surrender so completely. Not that she had any intention of ever letting him know she’d observed them. Still, accidents happened and if she did inadvertently slip up, she wanted to be able to honestly say that she had seen nothing more than Elrohir’s initial pleasuring.

Face scarlet at having witnessed such intense intimacy, Nimeithel beat a hasty retreat. But even as she all but flew from the cottage, she found herself wondering about what she had seen.

She was aware that their relationship was equal on all levels. Legolas took Elrohir often as well; he had hinted that much to her during their sibling confidences. Proudly at that, she grinned to herself. But also as if it were an honor. He was almost reverent when he alluded to it.

He knows Elrohir’s pride, she mused as she walked back to the house. For the younger twin to yield was the greatest proof of his utmost love and trust. Before Legolas, Elrohir had never submitted to any of the male lovers he had bedded. Not even for curiosity’s sake had he considered yielding even once. In this, he and Elladan had differed.

Elladan. Nimeithel stopped in her tracks.

Legolas had enjoyed what Elrohir had done to him. Indeed, enjoyed was a flagrant understatement. If such had been the effect of Elrohir’s attention to that particular part of her brother’s anatomy, might it not be the same for...?

Her eyes widened with delight. A mischievous smile graced her beauteous countenance, calling to mind Legolas’ own expression at his most wicked.

Mayhap I shall have to let him know what I saw, she thought. How else will I get him to tell me what to do? For a moment, she wondered if she could stomach Legolas’ expected reaction. But images of her husband being reduced to the same straits strengthened her resolve.

Legolas could yell and sputter and curse all he wanted but she would drag the information out of him if she had to!

*******

It was late evening when the Elven princess dared to approach him. The brethren were in the study, busy discussing something of import, which meant Legolas was alone at present. She hastened to his room.

He had been at the writing desk, taking care of correspondence when she sought entry. Now he rose from the table and smiled welcomingly, correctly discerning her reason for coming to him.

“What is it, thel neth?”—younger sister—he said indulgently.

Nimeithel gulped and said: “I need to know something before we leave tomorrow.”

“I suspected as much,” Legolas grinned. “Ask.”

Heart beating madly, Nimeithel drew a deep breath and, without pausing in between words, queried: “What was it that Elrohir did with his fingers while he was, er, suckling you that you enjoyed so much?”

She held her breath as her brother stared at her for a moment, stupefied. And then his countenance came alive, reflecting a riotous mix of emotions, the most blatant being downright shock.

“What do—?” he spluttered. “How—?”

“I saw you this afternoon – in the summerhouse,” she admitted. “‘Twas not on purpose,” she hurried on as his eyes widened.

“You spied on us?” he growled, eyes now flashing angrily.

“I did not intend to,” she countered. “Indeed, I was hastening to leave but then you made a sound of such – such divine bliss, it rendered me curious as to what Elrohir was doing to you. And so I – peeked.”

“Nimeithel!!!”

She winced at his bellow. What would the others make of it? she flusteredly thought. For surely no one could have failed to hear it. Yet she stood her ground. She was the sweetest tempered of Thranduil’s children but she, too, bore a streak of her family’s legendary pride and stubbornness. She could be as mule-headed as her brothers when she wanted something.

“You need not shout,” she huffed. “Just tell me what he did and I will go.”

Legolas stared at her as if she had grown a set of horns and a snout. “Why in Middle-earth do you want to know that?” he demanded when he found his voice.

In that instant, her courage failed her and she blushed deeply. Suddenly feeling uncertain, she could only squeak: “Elladan.”

Her brother stared at her a moment. “Elladan?” he echoed.

She nodded in patent embarrassment. “I have dreadfully neglected him these past many months,” she explained a little stumblingly. “We shall have these two months to ourselves and I should very much like to do something special for him – something different.”

The effect of her answer on Legolas was astonishing to say the least. One moment he was fuming and glowering at her in umbrage. The next, his stare gave way to raised eyebrows, wide eyes and the dawning of a particularly wolfish grin.

“I see,” he murmured thoughtfully. Of a sudden, his grin turned positively evil. He reached for her right hand and held it up, studying her fingers. He looked at her. “You will have to shorten your nails first,” he informed her.

For a spell, she gaped at him uncomprehendingly. And then she realized what he was implying. The wicked smile that came to grace her face mirrored his.

*******

Elrohir grinned as his brother mounted his horse behind Nimeithel with considerable relief. It was quite clear that Elladan, while very much a loving father, was truly feeling the need for a respite from his sons’ numerous and incessant scrapes. Not to mention time alone with his wife without the constant threat of an untimely interruption.

His grin widened as he noted the gleam in Elladan’s eyes when he curled his arm around Nimeithel and pulled her just a bit tighter against his tall frame. The older twin pressed a kiss against his blushing wife’s slender neck.

“Fie on you, tôr iuar”—older brother—Elrohir chuckled. “You have not even left Imladris and already you are rutting like a horse. Will you trouble Grandfather’s sleep on the way to Lindon?”

Elladan snorted and looked just a tad defiantly at Celeborn. The Elvenlord simply shook his head in amusement and said: “I assure you I will look the other way should you decide to amuse yourself before we reach Lindon. But do keep the noise down, if you will. I would not care to frighten the horses.”

Elrohir and Legolas guffawed while Elladan had the grace to grin with scapegrace charm. He looked one more time at his sons.

“I expect you to behave yourselves,” he admonished them, not for the first time.

“We will, Ada”—Papa—the twins chorused.

“In a pig’s eye,” Legolas scoffed, resorting to his Dwarf friend Gimli’s favorite expression of scepticism. Nimeithel caught his eye and winked at him conspiratorially. He winked back with a smirk.

The travellers rode out of the courtyard of the Last Homely House. As soon as they were out of sight, Legolas and Elrohir turned to regard their nephews.

Both looked utterly adorable and utterly innocent. Their uncles knew better.

Autumn had never been so looked forward to before.

***********

Glossary:

Anór - the sun

melethron - lover (m.)

To be continued…
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Greenleaf & Imladris 26 - Double Trouble