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Twilight Tales - Deception No More	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3260 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Deception No More
- 1
Title: Deception No More

Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Legolas/Elrohir

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: I write for the sheer enjoyment of it. Everything else is the property of the master storyteller himself, JRR Tolkien and his estate.

Summary - There comes a time when deception is no longer enough to balm a wounded heart. The sequel to Deception.

Author’s note: Deception was written upon request. It was meant to be a one-shot effort but the tale took on a life of its own and spun off a sequel. Hence, this offering.

Dedication: To my good friend and sage critic Gloromeien whose valuable insights and encouragement have always helped me get going whenever inspiration was at its lowest.

Deception No More

The Last Homely House, Ringarë TA 3018

Ordinarily, the return of Elrond’s sons from wherever their errantry took them was an occasion for joy and relief amongst their father’s household. And for the twins themselves, the gladness of homecoming was oft enough to wash away the fraught feelings their questing wrought them. But this afternoon proved different at least in the case of the Elvenlord’s younger son.

Elrohir trod the corridors of the house with the grimmest of countenances, putting only one question to whichever Elf had the misfortune to cross his path. He left in his wake more than a dozen bewildered Edhil as he steadily made his way from the house’s confines out into the gardens. Here he finally came upon his quarry.

Legolas sensed him before he reached the Wood-elf. Seated on one of the stone benches in the far reaches of the gardens, the archer sprang to his feet as soon as he laid eyes on the twin.

“Elrohir!” he exclaimed. “You are back, meldiren!”—my friend!

Had Elrohir been in a calmer state of mind, he would have noticed the unwonted delight and eagerness in his friend’s manner. Far more than the prince had ever displayed in previous reunions. But anger clouded the Elf-knight’s wits this day and he saw nothing of Legolas’ happiness at seeing him or the bemusement that soon followed when his stormy expression did not change.

“Blackguard of an Elf!” he said fumingly as soon as he neared the prince. “Lecher! Could you not stay your avarice even this once?”

Legolas stared at him, stunned and hurt. “What are you talking about?” he gasped. “Elrohir, why this rancor?”

He reached for his friend only to be roughly rebuffed. Elrohir skewered him with a glare.

“Elladan and I have long endured your mindless pursuit of pleasure,” he charged. “Yet this is how you reward us? By preying on our own father?”

The archer blanched then flushed painfully. “Nay, that is not so,” he protested.

“Will you deny it?” Elrohir challenged. “Is the gossip untrue then? Tell me you did not lie with Adar, Legolas, and I will consider what I heard naught but slander.”

Legolas swallowed hard. “I cannot wholly deny it,” he desperately said. “But if you would only listen to—”

“You cannot deny it?” Elrohir shot back. “By Elbereth, you are indeed treacherous beyond belief!”

“Elrohir, please, let me explain—!”

“Explain what? That all that was needed was for Elladan and me to turn our backs to know your faithlessness?” Elrohir hissed. “Is that why you befriended us? That you might feed your base needs?”

The moment he said it, Elrohir knew it to be false. Legolas turned his face as if struck, his cheeks paling to an unprecedented degree. And then he looked back at the Elf-knight. Elrohir’s breath hitched at the anguish in the depths of the archer’s eyes.

“You are right,” Legolas whispered. “More than ever have I proven how undeserving I am of your regard.”

The Wood-elf turned and hurried back to the house, head bowed and shoulders slumped as if the weight of Middle-earth rested upon them. Elrohir was left to stare after him in confusion.

His confusion was joined by consternation early that eve when word spread of the inclusion of an Elf in the Company of the Ring. Legolas of Mirkwood had gone straightly to Elrond soon after the arrival of the twins and informed the lore-master that he would join the company. He refused to be dissuaded and Elrond had finally accepted his offer.

Yet he did not come to the great hall that night where many were quite ready to sing his praises. The brethren Elladan and Elrohir were as stunned as any when they heard the news and sought enlightenment from their father about this turn of events. Elrond confirmed it to their dismay.

“Why in Eru’s name did he do it?” Elladan demanded, shaking his head as if in denial. “‘Tis madness. The farthest he has ever journeyed from his home is Imladris.”

Elrond sighed. “I do not know why,” he said. “Legolas was most insistent and would not withdraw. He is valorous in offering his services but I do not care to imagine what Thranduil will make of it.”

Elrohir, though no less distressed than his brother by the news, was less vocal about his feelings. An awful suspicion nagged at him as to what had precipitated the archer’s offer. As soon as he was able, he persuaded his father to confer with him alone in the latter’s study.

Elrond eyed him wonderingly as he plopped himself down rather gracelessly in the hearthside armchair.

“Elrohir, what troubles you?” he asked with concern.

The younger twin drew a calming breath. He looked at Elrond with searching eyes. “Ada, I have discovered that you and Legolas... had a liaison while we were gone,” he murmured.

Elrond actually turned red from embarrassment. “Where did you hear that?” he almost sputtered.

Elrohir stared at him. It was unlike his father to behave in so undignified a fashion. “I overheard two servants speaking of it,” he admitted. “They saw Legolas come out of your chamber. After hearing the most – inappropriate sounds within.” At his sire’s aghast expression, he swiftly added: “Oh, I doubt that they have spoken with others about this else Arwen would have learned of it by now.”

Elrond’s eyes flashed angrily. “That is beside the point,” he snapped. “They had no business eavesdropping on us in the first place!”

Elrohir glared at his sire. “He did not refute it and neither do you,” he said hotly. “You did have a liaison.”

Elrond shook his head. “One cannot call a mere hour of – of intimacy a liaison,” he pointed out. “Particularly since ‘twas never more than a means to soothe our respective needs.”

“Your needs?”

“Aye, my son. I did not seek it from him but I cannot deny that he alleviated some of the heaviness in my heart that had sorely burdened me since the hobbits arrived. And as for him... he is lonelier than I’d ever suspected. I was no more than a way for him to deceive himself anew.”

“What does he deceive himself in?”

“Love it would seem. He loves someone who apparently does not return the feeling. And so he beds Elves who have a likeness to this love of his. I suppose he pretends to himself in those moments that he has the one he truly wants.”

Elrohir was rendered mute for several moments. “Did he tell you who this Elf is?” he finally asked.

“Nay. But he mentioned that of all he has lain with, ‘twas I who was the most alike to that Elf.” Elrond stared at his son comprehendingly. “You accosted him because of this?” he prodded. When Elrohir hesitantly nodded, he groaned. “Which explains his sudden decision to join the quest. Ai, Elrohir, to what pass have you driven your friend?”

Elrohir’s mouth tightened. “A friend who took advantage of my absence to seduce you,” he tartly commented.

Again, Elrond shook his head. “You do not believe that yourself. And he did not intend it, of that I am certain,” he said. “‘Twas on the spur of the moment that he thought to take me. I warrant ‘twas because in that very instant I reminded him of his love.”

“Does this love truly exist?” Elrohir snorted tiredly.

Elrond gazed at him shrewdly. “He does. And I can guess who he is,” he remarked. “No son of mine should do less.”

Elrohir stared at him. And then a blush stained his cheeks. “Nay, that is not possible,” he said whisperingly.

“Isn’t it?” Elrond countered.

He was not surprised when Elrohir leaped to his feet and swiftly left the study.

The warrior raced to the Mirkwood Elf’s room. He knocked on the door, his anxiety rising when a listless voice bade him enter. He stepped in and felt a pang of regret smite him.

Legolas sat up on his bed, his back against the headboard, his knees drawn up with his arms around them. He buried his face in his folded arms, his pale locks spilling carelessly about his shoulders. An aura of despair and loneliness virtually shrouded the archer. For a moment, glistening sapphire eyes peeked out at him before lowering once more to hide behind the shining mesh of hair.

Wracked with guilt, Elrohir slammed the door shut behind him and went to his friend. He climbed onto the bed and sat close to Legolas’ side. He laid a comforting hand on the archer’s arm and winced when the latter flinched.

“I am sorry, gwador”—sworn brother—he murmured entreatingly. “What I said was unpardonable. Please forgive me.”

Legolas shook his head without lifting it. “You were only stating the truth,” came the muffled doleful reply. “‘Twas demeaning of me to use your father in that fashion.”

Elrohir silently cursed himself. The archer’s hurt was painfully palpable. “Nay, I understand why you did it. I had no right to judge you before hearing your side,” he insisted. “And you did try to tell me but I would not listen.” When Legolas trembled further, he made a rueful sigh and gently stroked the golden tresses.

To his dismay, a harsh sob escaped the hunched Elf. “Legolas, don’t!” he exclaimed imploringly. “Please, ernilen”—my prince—“I was wrong to assail you without knowing the whole truth. Ai, Mordor take my fiendish tongue! You did not deserve such hurt.”

He tried to hug the archer but Legolas shied from his embrace. “Do not touch me, Elrohir,” he whispered forlornly. “I am unclean. Tainted.”

“You are no such thing,” the Elf-knight protested. “To lie with my father this once taints you in no way.”

“This once?” Legolas laughed bitterly. “What of all the others I have taken through the years?” He shuddered visibly. “Pretending each time that—” He broke off abruptly and clasped his knees even closer to his chest.

Elrohir gazed sadly at his distraught friend. The tales of Legolas’ rapacious appetite were legion to put it mildly. Part of his anger had stemmed from the assumption that the archer had turned on Elrond as a hunter would his prey. But as for the other part…

“‘Twas cruel of me to treat you thusly,” he said. “The only defense I can plead was my worry for my father’s well being.” He paused, then took a deep breath and added: “And mayhap some envy.”

After a tense moment, Legolas lifted his head and looked at the Elf-knight in bewilderment. “Envy?” he repeated. “Of what?”

Elrohir sighed. “That you found Adar comely enough to warrant your attention.” He smiled dryly at Legolas’ startled reaction. “Only a want-wit could possibly fail to appreciate your beauty. Or turn down an overture from you. But – I never got the chance to even consider it. You have never approached me thusly. I confess, it has oft grieved me to think that you do not covet me as you did so many others even amongst your friends and mine.”

Legolas eyes’ widened. “Not covet you?” he gasped. “All these years I have so yearned for you it was pure agony setting aside my desire!”

He flushed deeply when he realized what he had just admitted. He turned his face away, shame limning his fair features. He started when he felt Elrohir’s hand on his, weaving their fingers together.

“Why did you never tell me?” Elrohir asked.

Legolas glanced fleetingly at him, eyes gleaming in grief. “You are betrothed,” he answered in a low, pained voice.

Elrohir gave a soft snort of humorless laughter. “Betrothed to one who no longer abides on these shores,” he said darkly.

“But betrothed nonetheless,” Legolas bleakly emphasized. “I did not wish for you to turn oath-breaker on my account.”

“There is no longer any oath to break,” Elrohir quietly told him. “When she left, we agreed that our troth would hold only if our love held strong as well.” He turned cheerless eyes on his friend. “I did not realize it then but from the moment she chose to leave my side the portion of my heart that was hers began to diminish. She loved me – but not enough to keep her here. I loved her – but not enough to accept her choice.” He waited for Legolas to get over the shock of this revelation. “Even did you not desire me, I would not now wed her should we unite in Valinor.”

Legolas drew a shuddering breath. He gripped the darkling Elf’s hand hard. “But ‘tis not mere desire I feel for you, Elrohir,” he said. “You alone I love. You alone have claimed my heart.”

A small smile curved the Elf-knight’s lips. “Well, ‘tis oft said that best friends make the best of spouses,” he softly declared. “And I am inclined to believe it.”

Before Legolas could so much as squeak in astonishment, he leaned forward and brushed his mouth against the archer’s. For one instant, Legolas froze, eyes wide with disbelief. In the next, he grabbed the warrior and all but crushed their lips together.

Recovering some of his wits in the wake of the archer’s passionate response, Elrohir quickly perceived that for all his vast experience in the bed-arts, in this particular act, Legolas was singularly unlearned. It seemed that, like many a human whore, Legolas had inhibited himself from what was one of the most intimate gestures of loving between two beings. But that made sense if he had not wished to know more than physical satisfaction with any of his partners.

He cupped the archer’s face and, with a few flicks of his tongue along Legolas’ parted lips, set to teaching him the delights of this primal and potent act of loving. He smiled inwardly at the moan of raw pleasure that elicited from the prince. Never a laggard in anything he set himself to learning, Legolas swiftly found his stride and soon matched him kiss for kiss until they were both gasping roughly, their bodies aflame with unquenched need.

They drew apart for a while, Legolas unwilling to rush Elrohir into something the warrior might not yet care for and Elrohir still coming to terms with the knowledge of his friend’s love for him. In a bid to clear their passion-fogged minds, the younger twin broached the subject of the archer’s decision to join the Fellowship.

“‘Twas my undeserved charge that drove you to offer yourself in this endeavor,” he said remorsefully. “You can still withdraw your offer, Legolas, while there are days yet to go before the company must leave.”

Legolas shook his head. “But I am sworn to this and the Ring-bearer. In all honor, I cannot withhold myself now.” Seeing Elrohir’s guilt-stricken mien, he hastened to add: “I committed myself to this quest out of despair but now I will go forth with bright hope in my heart no matter what lies beyond. And I swear I will come back, Elrohir. Now that I know what reward awaits me here, I will not let the shadow take me.”

Elrohir stroked the Wood-elf’s sculpted jaw, his regret still apparent. “Would that I could go with you,” he said.

“Nay, you and Elladan have already done your share,” Legolas replied. “Now ‘tis my turn. But I have more purpose now. I will do this as much for our future together as for Middle-earth’s sake.”

Elrohir said no more on the matter. He knew what had been promised could not now be undone. But one thing he could do for the archer ere he faced the gathering darkness.

Silently, he took Legolas’ hands and lifted them to the clasps on his tunic. The prince stared at him, a mixture of anxiety and elation in his eyes. His fingers trembled with uncharacteristic nervousness as he undid the outer garment. To reassure him, Elrohir caught his lips in another spate of kisses and set to undressing the prince as well.

When at last he had bared the Elf-knight to his gaze, Legolas had to fight the impulse to throw his friend down and ravage him there and then. He drew a shaky breath and looked beseechingly at Elrohir.

“Are you certain?” he whispered.

Elrohir did not answer but simply looked down at the blatant evidence of the archer’s arousal. Wordlessly, he dipped his head to ply his mouth and tongue on the column of rigid flesh. Legolas hissed in mingled shock and bliss.

Elrohir flicked an argent glance up at him. “Do you need more assurance?” he murmured just before running a wicked tongue up the length of Legolas’ thrumming shaft.

With a growl, Legolas caught him by the shoulders and quickly pushed him down on his back. The assault that followed was a breathtaking combination of reverent worship and outright ravishment.

Elrohir let him have his way. Gave up to him what he craved. Submitted to him as he had only rarely permitted himself to do in all his long years. It almost moved the archer to tears to receive this unexpected blessing.

When he finally buried himself in the Elf-knight’s silken heat, not once did he close his eyes – not even to blink – but stared relentlessly at his prize. He revelled in the bliss that marked Elrohir’s expression as he writhed beneath the archer’s admittedly expert touch. Smiled in delight at each sound of rapture that escaped the twin’s sinuous lips as he delved deeply and steadily into him. And still he stared, unwilling to miss even one instant of Elrohir’s unravelling.

When it came, the very sight of his lover coming undone verily finished him as well. So spent was he in ecstasy’s aftermath that he limply collapsed upon the warrior. Elrohir readily enfolded him in a soothing embrace and he rested his head on the twin’s shoulder. For the longest while, they remained thus entwined, Legolas reluctant to part from Elrohir after having achieved this coveted coupling of their bodies.

He smiled as supple fingers ran lazily through his locks. Could there be anything more wonderful than this? he thought.

“Legolas?”

“Hmm?”

“You regard me so relentlessly. Why?”

Legolas lifted his head and gazed dotingly at the Elf-knight. “I have not looked at my lovers’ faces for more years than I care to count,” he explained. “I always made them turn over or simply closed my eyes. I could not pretend that ‘twas you who sheathed me otherwise. But tonight, I needed to watch you. To know for certes that I did not have to deceive myself anon into feeling some happiness.”

The twin’s grey eyes softened at this confession. He held his erstwhile friend more snugly. This silent gesture of succor made up Legolas’ mind about a matter he had oft pondered. He looked imploringly at the warrior.

“Beloved, would you have me this one night?” he whispered.

“Just this one night?” Elrohir murmured with a tender grin. “I fear ‘twill not be enough. Greedy as it may sound, I would have you every night until you leave. And more when we meet again.”

Legolas stared at him in mounting elation. And then he burrowed further into the Elf-knight’s embrace, his mouth seeking the other’s lips once more.

“Please do!” he said fervently. “Forever if you wish. Valar, but I love you so, Elrohir!”

That was enough to unleash Elrohir’s passion in full. He rolled Legolas on his back and kissed him to distraction, leaving myriad telling marks on his throat, shoulders and heaving chest. He very soon had Legolas a-shiver with delight. The archer gasped when he was caught in a firm grip and stroked and fondled until he thought he would burst from the welter of rapturous sensations.

“Elrohir, have pity!” he almost keened. “Please, finish it now!”

Elrohir was more than willing to oblige. But he noticed a shadow of unease in the archer’s eyes when he slipped a finger caressingly into him. He stopped and went no further much to his lover’s impatience. But Elrohir held fast.

“When was the last time you yielded?” he softly queried.

Faint color flooded the prince’s face. “I never have,” he admitted to Elrohir’s amazement. “I may have fooled myself in taking others but that would not have been possible in being taken in turn.”

The twin blew his breath out, stunned by the discovery. “Then we must go slowly,” he said, gently probing the archer’s untried flesh. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

But Legolas adamantly shook his head. “I do not care for gentleness,” he insisted. “Too long have I yearned for this. I want to know your ownership. I want to know my dearest wish granted at last. Take me now, Elrohir.”

He caught his breath when Elrohir’ smoldering stare met his. The gentle fingers withdrew. Powerful hands gripped his hips and pulled them flush against the warrior’s groin. His eyes widened when Elrohir raised his legs and hooked them over his shoulders.

The Elf-knight leaned low over him and gazed at him intently, an impish smile creasing his mouth. Legolas stared at him as if mesmerized. He was acutely aware of the utter vulnerability of his position.

“You do want to watch me take you, don’t you?” Elrohir drawled roguishly.

Legolas gasped at the provocative statement. Involuntarily, his eyes dropped just in time to see himself breached, his flesh taking Elrohir in to the hilt. He cried out then, the sight of his yielding causing waves of ecstasy to surge through every nook and cranny of his quivering form. His breathing grew ragged as Elrohir proceeded to drive into him with long, almost bruising thrusts.

Happily helpless, he clutched at the twin’s arms, eyes streaming with felicity as he was steadily undone. Elrohir’s hand wrapped around his length once more and he shuddered with delight as he was stroked even as he was pierced until, finally, he could bear no more and monumental pleasure erupted in his groin. He hoarsely called out Elrohir’s name and spilled his seed copiously over the Elf-knight’s fist.

Still shaking from such unrivalled rapture, Legolas joyfully watched Elrohir came to his own release, intuitively clenching his muscles around his lover to heighten his pleasure. He caught the warrior possessively to him as the latter sagged against him.

“Thank you,” he whispered against the Elf-knight’s cheek.

“Think nothing of it, melethen”—my love—Elrohir murmured smilingly, turning to press a kiss to his lips.

Legolas sighed contentedly at the endearment. No longer would he need to resort to deceit to balm his lonely heart. What he had so greatly desired had been granted him. Elrohir was his at long last.

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

Glossary:

Ringarë – Quenya for December

Edhil - Elves

Adar, Ada – Father, Papa

The End
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Twilight Tales - Deception No More