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Greenleaf & Imladris 25 - Table Manners	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1983 -:- 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 25 - Table Manners

Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Elrohir/Legolas

Archiving: AdultFanFiction.Net

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Just before yet another formal dinner, Elrohir decides he and Legolas have attended one banquet too many.

Disclaimer: I write for the love of it. All else belongs to the esteemed Prof. JRR Tolkien.

Table Manners

Eryn Gael, Ithilien, Cerveth FA 44

The slam of the bedroom door was so deafening Legolas all but jumped in his startlement. He set aside his book and looked curiously at his patently irritated spouse.

It was late afternoon on a rare day of leisure for both of them. But just as they were settling onto their bed with a pair of good books to read, as was their habit on these days, a courier from Minas Tirith had arrived with a message for Elrohir.

“What is wrong, Aduial?” Legolas mildly inquired as the twin plopped down beside him with a scowl on his comely face.

“This!” Elrohir said, waving a single sheet of parchment. “We are being recalled to Minas Tirith.”

“For what reason?”

“The Harad ambassador and his party will arrive in three days. Estel desires to give him a proper welcome.”

Legolas was all the more confused. “But you helped draft the final treaty that is the reason for their advent here. Why are you so adverse to Aragorn’s summons? Do you have something against the ambassador?”

Elrohir sighed and lay back against the pillows.

“I have nothing against him,” he said. “He is a good man by all accounts. Certainly nothing like his predecessor whom you helped unmask. And I am more than glad that we shall have peace with Harad at last.”

“Then why this pique?’

“Because I have only just returned home the last two days and must now leave again. I had hoped to spend more time here with you.”

Silence met his statement. He was turning his head to see if Legolas was still listening when he was summarily pressed back against the pillows by the archer and kissed with considerable ardor. When his mate released him, his heart was beating more rapidly than usual. He stared at Legolas in surprise.

“What brought that on?” he asked breathlessly.

The woodland prince was smiling beatifically, eyes gleaming with emotion. “You called this home.”

Elrohir blinked. “Isn’t it?” he said a little nonplussed.

Legolas laughed softly. “You called this home,” he repeated. “Here, Eryn Gael, this place that I built but some years ago. Not Imladris where you were born and have lived for centuries.”

Elrohir gazed at him, his eyes softening. “But my home is where my heart abides,” he said seriously. “And you have ever been my heart, Calenlass.”

It was an hour or so before he could think coherently again. As he lay panting after his mate’s heart stopping attentions, he could only muse how well Legolas had learned his lessons in bedding an ellon. The prince withdrew from him then settled his fair head on his shoulder.

After a moment, Elrohir chuckled affectionately. Legolas lifted his head to gaze at him questioningly.

“You just reminded me of the other reason why I call this home.”

*******

Minas Tirith

Five days later, Elrohir had reason to be annoyed all over again.

Oh, he had no complaints about the Harad ambassador or his people. They were indeed a far cry from the first group that had come to Gondor more than a score of years ago. The new Southron diplomat was a sage great-heart who believed as heartily in peace and goodwill between realms as Aragorn did. He brooked no foolishness or ill manners amongst his men and was eager to establish fruitful relations between the Reunited Kingdom and his land soonest.

No, it was not the Haradrim party he was set against.

“Another formal dinner, Arwen?” he all but sputtered when informed of the up-coming occasion. “This is the fifth one you will have hosted in as many weeks!”

Arwen exchanged rueful glances with Legolas and Elladan. Behind her, Aragorn and Eldarion hid their smiles behind their hands, an “I-told-you-so” glint in the king’s dark eyes.

They were gathered together in the king’s study after having had dinner together as was their wont. Elladan had also come south for the spate of numerous events that had previously kept Elrohir too busy to return to Ithilien often. But he had also brought Nimeithel and their children with him. For now his wife was with the twins, putting them to bed, which was no easy task. On one side of the study, Aragorn’s daughters huddled together, eyeing their Elf-uncles and Legolas with fascination.

Eleniel, Romenna and Mîrewen were now of an age to take part in the various discussions their parents routinely held with the rest of the family. Indeed, Eleniel was already betrothed to a lord of her choosing and Romenna’s hand was being sought by a multitude of noblemen, young and old alike. But the princesses did not lose their wonder at being such close kin to Edhil. And they were still amazed by Elrohir’s espousal to Legolas though, out of love for their uncle, they assiduously guarded their knowledge and tongues.

For now they watched the proceedings with curiosity and amusement, the latter reaction something they shared with the rest.

Everyone knew Elrohir would do his duty to the best of his abilities. He would never set aside his responsibilities in the name of personal desires. And he did not resent his high position at court whatever it entailed nor did he abuse the power that stemmed from it. But he did detest the trappings that came with said position and power.

Since his long-ago adolescence, he had never been one to enjoy pomp and pageantry. Given a choice between a kingly banquet and an intimate meal, he would inevitably choose the latter even for the most festive or important of occasions. Small wonder he balked at yet another official dinner that would require formal dress, manners and talk.

“Now, now, muindor”—brother—“‘tis the last one we will ask you to attend for a while,” Arwen said soothingly.

“That is what you said about the last one, thel neth”—younger sister—the Elf-knight pointed out. “In those exact words.”

A pair of unregal snickers agreed with him. Arwen glowered at her unhelpful husband and son. Unfortunately, this dinner had been her idea and she could not count on them to support her overmuch.

“You could call it off, melethril”—lover—Aragorn suggested, suppressing a smile.

“Nay, I cannot,” she retorted. “I already informed Lord Garod and his party of it.”

Elrohir rolled his eyes. “You would.”

She placed a placating hand on his arm. “Please, Elrohir, you must come, you and Legolas,” she wheedled engagingly. “Garod was much impressed by both of you and Elladan. He would very much enjoy your company.”

“Really, Arwen, he could enjoy our company any time. I see no reason why I must suffer through the dubious pleasure of another tiresome dinner with everyone forced to be on their best behavior whether they are in the mood for it or not!”

Legolas came to his beleaguered law-sister’s rescue. “‘Twill not be so onerous if you think about the pleasures you do enjoy.”

That caught Elrohir’s attention. “Pleasures?” he repeated.

Legolas colored slightly as he recalled the presence of Aragorn’s daughters. He had gotten quite used to blunting Elrohir’s irate outbursts with certain promises even with Aragorn, Arwen and Eldarion around. And, of course, Elladan was more than used to it after all these years. But the princesses.... The others began to grin at his predicament.

“Aye,” he said briefly. Elrohir folded his arms and waited for more enlightenment much to his dismay and everyone else’s merriment. Legolas sighed and mumbled: “I will endeavor to provide you with a feast more to your liking.”

Elrohir’s eyes glittered. “I will hold you to that promise, melethen”— my love—he all but purred.

A chorus of giggles discomfited Legolas further and he refused to say another word. Arwen jumped into the breach.

“You will join us then?” she pressed.

Elrohir still did not look in the least bit eager. But he said: “I suppose I must.”

Arwen was so relieved she failed to note the rebellious gleam in his argent eyes.

*******

His mood was not improved significantly when, on the afternoon of the dinner, Arwen inveigled him and Elladan into coming to Merethrond to comment on the preparations. Particularly when it preempted what would have been a couple of hours of intimacy with Legolas. When in the Guarded City, the two took separate bedchambers to avoid calling notice to their bonded status. Thus, they took advantage of any and all opportunities to be together in private, not all nights being available for that purpose.

Nevertheless, he could not help being impressed with the results of his sister’s efforts. Arwen had transformed Merethrond into a Harad festival hall based on information gleaned from Aragorn and the twins, which in turn stemmed from their past travels in the region.

Swaths of heavy, brightly colored fabric festooned the walls and festive banners hung from the ceiling. Ornate tapestries flanked the entrances and wide windows. And the scent of fragrant incense from Harad sweetened the air.

In the center of the great hall were three long and wide tables, each seating twelve guests. Arwen had borrowed the Southron custom of draping heavy damask cloth over the tables then arranging exotic blooms and greenery down their centers and tucking in bowls of fruit and nuts here and there. Underneath the tables were large rugs in the jewel colors the Swertings favored, another Harad tradition.

Elrohir’s dark mood returned when she informed them of the seating arrangement. The ambassador would sit at the main table, of course, while the rest of his party would be divided amongst the other tables. While Elrohir would sit at the main table beside Lord Garod, Arwen had decided that Elladan, Nimeithel and Legolas would represent the Elves at the other two, which would be presided over by the Prince of Dol Amroth and the Steward Faramir respectively. With his tryst with Legolas interrupted and now learning he would have to sit through the night apart from his mate, Elrohir started to feel thoroughly put upon.

Elladan stifled a chortle as he watched his twin heave an exasperated sigh when their sister continued to enthusiastically expound all her plans for the evening. After dinner, they would proceed to the battlement where she had arranged for entertainment to be performed under the stars. Poetry readings, minstrels and dancers—it promised to be a long night. With a certain need still unattended to, Elrohir was all but ready to explode from frustration.

It was while he was glaring at the main table that his expression suddenly changed from irate to thoughtful. Elladan regarded him suspiciously. His suspicion deepened when Elrohir failed to hear Arwen tell them that they could go and prepare themselves for the evening. He clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, startling him.

“What are you thinking of, gwanneth?”—younger twin?—he inquired. “You aren’t going to back out of this dinner, are you?”

Elrohir glanced at his sister and noted her pointedly raised eyebrows. He shook his head. “Nay, I gave my word I would be present. Legolas and I will be here tonight.”

Arwen smiled anew and left the hall to dress for the evening. Elladan, however, could not quite let go of his suspicions. He continued to observe his brother as the latter took another long, musing look at the table. What was so interesting about it?

That evening, Legolas was surprised when a young page asked him to go to Merethrond at once. At Lord Elrohir’s request. The prince was puzzled. Why would Elrohir want him to get there ahead of the other guests?

Arriving at the hall, his puzzlement increased. There was no one here, not even Elrohir. Even the servants and retainers were all busy outside, seeing to last minute chores.

He heard it then in his mind. A come hither whisper telling him to approach the main table, which stood in the center. His curiosity piqued, he obeyed the summons, wondering where in Arda the Elf-knight had hidden himself. He came up to the table and stood between two chairs, perplexed.

A strong hand shot out from beneath the table, grabbed his ankle and yanked him literally off his feet. Legolas half cried out as he landed on the mercifully thick rug. Winded, he lay gasping for breath, only partially aware that he was halfway under the table. With no further warning, he was gripped by the hips and unceremoniously hauled all the way to vanish beneath the graceful drapes of the tablecloth.

Dazed by the rapid flow of events not to mention his fall, Legolas was slow in coming back to full awareness of his surroundings. When he did, he discovered to his consternation that he could not move his arms. Someone had strapped his forearms to his waist with a thick leather belt. He raised alarmed eyes to peer into the twilight gaze of Elrohir.

Legolas opened his mouth to demand what his bereth—spouse— thought he was doing only to be silenced by a deep kiss. When Elrohir drew back, he quickly placed a finger on the blond archer’s lips and with a gesture indicated to him just where they were. It was with patent shock that Legolas realized they were right beneath the dinner table, hidden only by the voluminous fabric draped over it.

A moment later, they heard the sounds of guests entering. Elrohir smirked while Legolas frowned when they heard Eldarion hastily ask Elladan where Elrohir and Legolas were. The king and queen were about to arrive with the ambassador and here was an empty seat at the main table. Elladan offered to vacate his place and take his twin’s. Empty seats at the other tables would not be marked as much, he assured his nephew.

Legolas glared at Elrohir only to be distracted by more kisses. Caught up in his spouse’s all too potent caresses, he only vaguely heard the entrance of Gondor’s King and Queen and their ambassadorial guest. Walking to opposite ends of the table, Aragorn and Arwen then took their seats, the signal for everyone else to follow suit. Both were quick to note the younger twin’s absence. Arwen was hard-pressed not to roll her eyes in resignation while opposite her, Aragorn decided not to rile his wife by stressing the obvious about her brother’s unpredictability.

Legolas became all the more conscious of the need for silence as he heard the guests begin to converse. Then with a jolt, he felt Elrohir’s hands on his clothing, spreading his formal tunic open and swiftly undoing the ties of his shirt. The woodland prince was not fond of speaking through his thoughts but aware of the need for silence he was forced to do so now.

Loose me, Elrohir, he demanded.

Nay, came the rather smug answer.

Legolas almost gasped as he felt his shoes yanked off and his breeches peremptorily pulled down his legs.

What in Arda are you doing?! his mind virtually shrieked.

Having the feast you promised me, Elrohir wickedly replied. He regarded what he had uncovered. And I think there is no delicacy in Middle-earth to rival what you have to offer, melethron.—lover.

The prince blushed, groaning inwardly at his mate’s outrageous observation. He tensed as he felt Elrohir’s warm breath directly above his groin.

To one side, a long leg unwound and accidentally kicked the Elvenlord. Scowling, he looked at the offending limb. He suddenly grinned as he recognized its owner. Elrohir punched the leg hard.

Elladan, seated to the left of the ambassador, nearly yelped at the blow to his leg. He glanced down in shock, wondering what had hit him. Or who? Using a deliberately dropped napkin as an excuse, he bent down slightly and lifted the tablecloth. He peered beneath the table. On the other side of the ambassador, Eldarion glanced at his uncle curiously.

It took all of Elladan’s willpower not to bolt upright at the sight that greeted him. There was his missing law-brother lying helplessly under the banquet table, tunic and shirt spread open and stitchless below the waist. Bent over the vicinity of the hapless prince’s groin was his equally missing twin, his raven tresses obscuring his face as well as the activity he was engaged in, the nature of which was blatantly apparent, obscured or not.

Elladan forced himself to sit up as calmly and naturally as possible. He bit down hard on his lip, clamping down on the urge to go into hysterics. Eldarion barely kept himself from staring at the Elvenlord. His uncle was not given to such behavior. At least, not in public. He wondered...

Catching Elladan’s eyes, he nodded towards the tablecloth at his knees with a questioning lift of an eyebrow. Elladan gave a slight nod in return. Eldarion gingerly lifted the cloth while replying to a question aimed at him by the Southron diplomat. He managed a swift peek at the goings-on below. He nearly gagged on a gasp a mere second later. Hastily dropping the tablecloth, he glanced once more at Elladan, manfully struggling to keep from laughing out loud. His expression was not lost on someone who knew him very well.

Arwen wondered at her brother and son’s odd demeanors. She threw them a questioning look. They replied by dropping their eyes pointedly to their laps. The Queen followed their motions. She stiffened as she heard what sounded like a moan coming from below. Almost at the same time, Elladan began to cough rather loudly, effectively attracting everyone’s attention to him. Arwen stared at him then at the tablecloth at her knees suspiciously.

Surreptitiously, she raised the fabric and took a quick peek underneath. She nearly gaped at the sight of her other brother having a feast of his own under their very noses. Quickly dropping the cloth, she sat up straight once more and managed a ghastly smile. That in turn attracted her husband’s attention.

Aragorn noted his wife’s expression and wondered what had distressed her so. But no, she wasn’t in distress, he realized. Just shocked. He observed her as she exchanged glances with Elladan and Eldarion. Then all three glanced down at their laps. A royal eyebrow rose as Aragorn saw his foster brother nonchalantly raise the tablecloth then lower it hurriedly before giving the others the barest of nods.

He was about to voice a query when he heard a familiar chuckle emanating improbably from just below his knee.

That did it. Curiosity getting the better of him, the King of Gondor did exactly as his foster brother, son and wife had done just minutes earlier. A second later he was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, a frozen expression on his countenance. Elladan and Eldarion saw his face almost in the same instant. Then, to Aragorn’s horror, they looked at each other and smiled. The king began to consider the possibility of abdicating his throne before the night was through.

Elrohir stifled another snicker as he regarded his limp but well-satisfied mate. Grinning roguishly he leaned over and captured Legolas’ lips in a searing kiss. The blue eyes flew open and the prince began to squirm once more.

Not again!

But Calenlass, that was just the beginning. Now we go to the meal proper.

Eldarion watched his wife pluck a strawberry from the bowl before her. Ilien adored the plump fruit and happily chewed on it with almost sensual abandon. Suppressing a smirk, her husband skillfully palmed a few, passing his hand over the bowl without anyone the wiser that the contents of the dish were now lessened by several berries. The Crown Prince slipped his hand beneath the tablecloth.

The faintest of snickers reached his ears even as the fruit was snatched from his open hand. He pursed his lips, quelling by sheer will the laughter that was threatening to explode from him. He noticed Arwen glowering at him. Throttling his hilarity, he began to choke instead. Lord Garod looked at him in alarm and reached out to pat him vigorously on the back.

Elrohir placed one strawberry between his teeth. Bending down he offered the fruit to Legolas. Mesmerized by the sensuality of the gesture, Legolas parted his lips and took half of the fruit into his mouth. Elrohir bit down on it allowing Legolas to take the severed fragment into his mouth. As he did so, their lips brushed together and kissed, the sweetness of the fruit in their mouths lending an extra piquancy to the caress. They parted, chewing slowly as they gazed at each other. Elrohir made short work of the remaining fruit, drawing out the last kiss until Legolas was bucking against him needfully.

The prince nearly drew blood as he bit his lower lip to keep from making any sound. But it was near impossible not to do so when his spouse nibbled and nipped at his throat, moved on to pay loving attention to each roseate nipple on his chest, traveled down the rippled planes of his belly until finally he ended his journey by prying Legolas’ legs wide apart and proceeded to lick and delve him with his tongue. That nearly drove the archer insane.

Finish it now, Elrohir! he demanded. I cannot take any more of this!

The Elf-knight shifted to come between his thighs, an almost feral smile on his sinuous lips.

With pleasure.

Legolas barely smothered a groan as he was taken swiftly and deeply. Not that he was complaining. He was past protesting. Way past. He struggled against the constricting belt as Elrohir began to drive into him.

Please, release my arms. I need to touch you.

The belt was swiftly yanked off and Legolas wasted no time reaching out to pull Elrohir down to him, sealing their mouths together. In near silence, they strained with and against each other, Legolas locking his powerful legs around Elrohir’s waist, insistently drawing his mate deeper into his body. Sinking ardently into the welcoming heat, Elrohir reached between them to caress the archer’s shaft as it came to renewed and turgid arousal.

Elladan burst into animated and patently inane conversation with Eldarion and Lord Garod when he heard the sounds of impending completion below his knees. At his end of the table, Aragorn just managed to stop himself from groaning out loud. The odd paroxysms of their expressions since the start of the clandestine feast beneath the table had not failed to register on the Harad ambassador. Garod was sneaking curious glances at them every now and then.

With his Elf-brother and son in mischievous complicity with the pair below and his wife struggling to maintain her dignified mien, the King could only hope that nothing worse would happen than the Southron diplomat thinking Gondor’s royals a rather odd bunch indeed.

*******

Arwen was all prepared to deliver a stinging rebuke to her brother when the two joined them and the other guests on the battlement. Outwardly, both looked impeccable. But she did not doubt that their attire hid myriad evidence of their covert indulgence. She did not fault Legolas in this. He would never have instigated or even agreed to such an egregious escapade. Oh no, Elrohir was at the bottom of this scrape.

“How could you do this?” she hissed at the younger twin behind a sweet smile. Before them, a minstrel was about to begin another song.

“‘Twas necessary,” he coolly replied. Before she could respond, he mildly informed her: “You called me away this afternoon at a most inconvenient time. I had a most pressing need to attend to.”

It was a few seconds before Arwen could reply. While Legolas blushed at his spouse’s customary frankness, the others tried to smother their grins.

“I apologize if I inconvenienced you, Elrohir,” the queen said at length. “But that does not change the fact that you broke your word that you would be present.”

Elrohir suddenly and dazzlingly smiled. “But, thel vell”—dear sister—“we were present.”

It was with utmost difficulty that the rest of the family managed to keep from expressing their mirth. It would have been unforgivable to laugh in the middle of the performance of one of the most mournful love songs ever composed.

*******

On the eve of the ambassador’s departure for Harad, Aragorn and Arwen were seen to hasten to one of the best-known taverns in Minas Tirith. Summoned by an oddly countenanced Faramir, they came upon the entire Southron party having the time of their lives downing hearty peasants’ fare while being regaled by an array of bawdy performances.

In the midst of it all, dispensing ale and wine and – horrors, Arwen thought – Imladrin miruvor, were Elrohir and Elladan while, to one side, Legolas was busily passing out platefuls of meat from the largest roast boar this side of Anduin. When the brethren did not decline a shouted request for a song, their sister could only raise a dainty hand to her suddenly throbbing forehead. And the song they chose to perform...! She glared at her now guffawing husband.

The questionable performance came to an end. While his men lustily applauded the twins, Lord Garod staggered up to Gondor’s royal couple and, with a hiccup, smiled broadly. “We must thank you for such a splendid send-off, majesties!” he happily and loudly proclaimed.

His people noisily cheered their agreement.

The Southron diplomat raised his tankard and bellowed. “To peace and goodwill between our realms forevermore!”

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

Glossary:

Cerveth - Sindarin for July

Aduial - Twilight

Calenlass – Greenleaf

ellon – male Elf

Edhil - Elves

The End
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Greenleaf & Imladris 25 - Table Manners