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The Blade's Edge	By : nuwing Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1193 -:- 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-The Blade's Edge
- 1
*Title: The Blade’s Edge

*Author: Minuial Nuwing

*Contact: minuial_nuwing@yahoo.com

*Website: http://geocities.com/minuial_nuwing

*Rating: NC-17 (Hard R might cover it)

*Type: FPS

*Pairing: Elladan/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir strongly implied

*Warning: Implied twincest

*Archive: First Light, AFF.net, LoM, OEAM, Cipher; Others: I would be

honored-Just let me know, please!

*Feedback: Makes me smile, and write faster…

*Summary: Elladan wants Gildor. PWP, a bit of sap. Absolutely no mention of

any actual blade.

*Beta: Allie **hugs** Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

*Notes: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not used for

simple emphasis. In plain-text, stars (**) indicate italics. One star (*blah*) for

emphasis, two stars (**blah**) for mindspeak or thoughts.

*Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else

belongs to the creator-god of Middle Earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and

humbled by his vision. I promise to clean them all up and return them with smiles on

their faces when I am done playing!

*A/N: This bunny jumped me and would not go away. It has only the vaguest

connection to the P3 universe, or anything else for that matter...
*****************************************************
The Blade’s Edge

~Imladris 984 III~
“Have you taken complete leave of your senses, tôren?” Elrohir hissed in amazement,

his eyes following Elladan’s gaze to the lone visitor in the Hall of Fire.
“You do not find him fair, then?” the elder twin asked in surprise, turning to his

brother expectantly. “He is nearly as impressive as Glorfindel, I think, though in a

different sort of way.”
“Aye, as impressive...and as ancient, and as experienced. And an honored

guest in our home.” Elrohir shook his head slightly. “Ada will have you in the stables

for a century!”
“A fair trade, mayhap,” Elladan breathed, meeting the appreciative dark blue gaze of

his father’s friend. Turning his attention back to his brother, the elder twin smiled

slightly. “Do you not think, ‘Roh?”
Elrohir did not return the smile. “I do not deny that he is desirable, ‘Dan,” he

replied quietly. “But you dance on the blade’s edge in this...this folly. We

are scarce more than elflings to him.”
Laying a hand on his twin’s arm he added urgently, “Gildor Inglorion will not roll

over for you, tôren. Do not allow lust to draw you into a situation from which there is

no easy escape.”
“Might I join you, mellynen?” a caressing voice broke in, sending a shiver down

Elladan’s spine.
Temporarily bereft of speech, the elder twin nodded, his eyes widening in approval as

Gildor settled comfortably in the floor before the roaring fire, lithe muscles flexing

under soft grey suede. The wanderer leaned his head back against the oversized chair

that the twins favored, a few golden braids falling across Elladan’s hand temptingly.
“I thank you for your company,” Gildor said with a warm smile. “Though I do not

begrudge Lindir his days in Loríen, Imladris seems a bit quiet without his song.”
“And a bit lonely, I wager,” Elrohir responded pleasantly, though there was an edge

to his voice that drew a frown from his brother.
Gildor’s deep blue eyes flashed with what may have been amusement as he met the

elf-knight’s intent gaze. “Indeed, ernilen,” the gypsy-elf agreed. “Lindir is a dear

friend, and I do sorely miss his companionship. We have a long history together, your

minstrel and I.”
“How long?” Elrohir asked crisply, ignoring his brother’s incredulous stare.
“’Roh,” the elder twin began warningly, only to be interrupted by the ancient

elf.
“Longer than this valley has sheltered your family, pen dithen,” Gildor replied

calmly.
“I did not mean to offend, híren,” the elf-knight murmured, avoiding his brother’s

eye.
“Indeed?” Gildor retorted, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I would

not have guessed it.”
Taking pity on the glowering elf, he said, “Come now. I have seen little of you

since your majority. How have the two of you been keeping?”
His tension eased by Gildor’s kindness and genuine interest in their lives, Elrohir

found himself truly enjoying the elder elf’s company. Nothing seemed outside the

wanderer’s experience, and he was quick to both laugh and commiserate with his young

friends.
Elrond’s departure from the Hall took the three elves by surprise, rousing them from

their comfortable haze. Arching his back with a groan, Gildor looked up at his

companions. “Will you join me in my chambers, mellynen? Or are you ready to retire?”
Grey eyes met and held for a long moment, then Elrohir smiled faintly. “I fear I am

for my bed, híren,” he said with a smothered yawn. “’Dan will no doubt entertain you

for a bit longer, though.”
Elladan looked at his brother, anxiety and yearning warring in his eyes. “Mayhap I

should come with you, tôren,” he said uncertainly. “We have to...”
“Nay,” the elf-knight interrupted, “go amuse Gildor, melethen, and leave me to my

rest. We have no pressing duties tomorrow.” Drawing his brother into a quick

embrace, he added, “I will not wait up.”
As Elrohir left the Hall, Gildor stood and stretched fluidly, extending a hand to his

remaining companion. “Shall we, ernilen?”
********************************************************
“Does he mind that you are here, Elladan?”
The elder twin swirled the wine in his glass slowly, seeking a simple answer to the

hopelessly complicated query. “Elrohir? I do not believe that he does. He was quite

tired...”
Gildor sighed deeply and put a hand under the other’s chin, gently forcing Elladan to

meet his gaze. “I would not have you sidestep my question, pen neth,” the ancient elf

said quietly. “He is your lover, and he lies alone in the bed you share knowing full

well why you are here with me.”
“He is worried, but he does not mind,” Elladan answered, his eyes fluttering closed

as a bow-callused thumb traced his lower lip.
“Worried?” Gildor repeated curiously. “Over what does he worry?”
“A trifle,” Elladan replied evasively.
“You take other lovers, then? Both of you?”
“Aye, but not often,” the dark elf admitted.
“But I did not misunderstand?” Gildor probed, his thumb now sweeping the rim of the

younger elf’s ear. “I wish to please you, ernilen, and be pleased by you. I would not

have it said that I preyed on an unwitting youngling.”
“Nay,” Elladan said hoarsely, placing his glass on the side table before reaching for

Gildor’s tunic. “You did not misunderstand.”
**********************************************
Elrohir moved restlessly, his legs tangled in the twisted bed linens. Despite his

weariness, the effort required to close his mind to Elladan’s thoughts and feelings made

it difficult to sleep.
Normally he would have sought a casual encounter, also, if only to ease the strain.

The elf-knight briefly considered a visit to the largest of the guest accommodations,

where he knew many of Gildor’s people were housed. The folk of the wandering company

would certainly welcome him, and there would be dancing and singing far into the night –

as well as any other diversion that might strike his fancy.
In the end, fatigue proved the stronger force, and he slid into a fitful reverie.
*********************************************
Gildor smiled triumphantly as he stared down into wide grey eyes. “You are a worthy

opponent,” he purred, nipping at Elladan’s lip teasingly. “But I fear both strength and

experience are on my side.”
Holding his captive firm to the bed, Gildor raised one hand to brush back the tousled

ebony strands that fell across the dark elf’s face. “Such a beauty you have grown to

be, pen neth,” he said appreciatively, taking in Elladan’s flushed cheeks and

kiss-bruised lips. “’Tis an honor to have you in my bed.”
Despite his rising anxiety, Elladan found himself grinning at the lavish flattery.

“You have a silver tongue, mellonen,” he chuckled, lifting his head to catch Gildor’s

mouth in a brief kiss.
“Indeed?” the ancient elf replied, moving to nuzzle a sensitive ear. “Then let us

find another use for it, shall we?” Without pausing for further banter, Gildor covered

his lover’s lips with his own, his tongue pushing through, aggressive and demanding.
Elladan found himself crumbling before the onslaught. For the first time since his

majority so many centuries before, his partner was fully in control. Here there was no

reassuring voice sounding in his thoughts, no exchange of emotion to soothe his unease.

Gildor’s kisses were rich and sensual, demanding surrender, offering no quarter.
The dark elf gasped, his body bucking reflexively as the talented mouth slid down to

suckle and nip his peaked nipples, then moved lower, stabbing at his navel while silken

hair slid over his sensitized skin. “Wait,” he choked out, “there is something...”
Torn between pleasure and dread, Elladan howled without restraint when his arousal

was suddenly drawn into the wet warmth.
Gildor raised his head and chuckled. “Easy, ernilen,” he said, eyes sparkling as he

ran his tongue up the hard shaft from base to tip, lapping at the weeping slit. “I

would not have Elrond appear and break down the door to see what ails me.”
Elladan merely whimpered in answer, fisting the rumpled sheets as his aching erection

was engulfed once more. His thoughts whirled, the need to stop, the need to explain

blurred by the incredible pleasure. Then a strong hand urged his thighs apart, allowing

slick fingers to circle his tight entrance.
As his fingertips brushed the wrinkled pink skin, Gildor felt his companion go rigid,

the responsive body suddenly stiff and unyielding. Pulling his hand away slightly, the

ancient elf moved up to nuzzle Elladan’s neck reassuringly. “Relax, pen neth,” he

murmured, pressing soft kisses along his lover’s jaw. “’Twill be easier.” Meeting the

clouded midnight gaze, Gildor spoke gently. “You do not often yield, I wager.”
Elladan shook his head wordlessly as he struggled to find a way to explain, all the

while cursing himself soundly. He could hardly blame Gildor for expecting what had been

at least insinuated, if not promised.
Thinking to soothe his anxious partner, the ancient elf curled his fingers around

Elladan’s arousal, stroking the hard flesh as he bent his head to suckle a flushed ear.

“Surely you know that I would not harm you, ernil neth,” he crooned, his hand moving

lower to cup the snug sac beneath his lover’s shaft. “You are safe here.”
“’Tis not that I fear you,” Elladan gasped, trying desperately to maintain some hint

of sanity under his lover’s skilled ministrations. “’Tis that...I...please,

Gildor...wait...”
“Shh,” the ancient elf broke in, dropping a spate of light kisses around the younger

elf’s mouth as his hand slid still lower, rubbing firmly over the starburst opening.

“Hush now, pen neth. Just feel.”
Elladan’s eyes filled with tears of frustration and despair as he felt the pressure

against his body increase, and he twisted away frantically as one finger began to slip

past the tight muscle. “Please,” he half-sobbed, “I cannot...”
Gildor froze as the broken plea finally penetrated his lust-hazed mind, and he raised

his head to meet his companion’s drowned eyes. This was more than the misplaced pride

of a young warrior, or the anxiety of an ellon who was seldom taken. “What is amiss,

ernilen?” he asked calmly, biting down firmly on the string of oaths clamoring to

escape.
“I am sorry,” Elladan whispered, flushing as his eyes dropped under Gildor’s steady

gaze. “I cannot. I wanted to explain earlier, then I thought perhaps I could, after

all...but I cannot.”
“Mayhap you could explain now, then?” the ancient elf said with a sigh, stretching

out to draw the other into a loose embrace. “I assume we speak of your brother’s

‘trifle’?”
“Aye,” Elladan replied, his face buried in his lover’s chest. “I have never...I

mean, I have, but only for ‘Roh...”
Gildor looked down at the dark head in surprise. “You submit only to Elrohir?”
The younger elf nodded silently, risking a glance at his companion. “You likely

think it foolish, but ‘tis a gift of sorts.”
“I do not think it foolish, nay,” Gildor answered, stroking the dark elf’s back

soothingly. “What I do find foolish, pen neth, is the path by which we have arrived at

this discussion. Why did you not tell me?”
“It seemed a poor topic for opening a conversation,” Elladan replied, a hint of

amusement in his voice. “By the time it seemed appropriate, I was distracted. You

rather have that effect.”
“Do I, then?” Gildor chuckled, pulling the younger elf closer. “I am glad.”

Reaching between their bodies, he caught both taut lengths in a loose grip, quickly

stroking them back to full hardness.
Elladan groaned at the strange intimacy of the act as his arousal slipped and slid

against his lover’s, the rough skin of weapon-hardened fingers rasping over the velvety

column. Steadying himself with a hand on Gildor’s hip, he pushed forward into the slick

grip, earning a growl of approval from the ancient elf.
Gildor tangled his legs with Elladan’s and drew the dark elf’s hand down to join his

own around their now weeping erections. Catching his lover’s mouth is a searing kiss,

he thrust his tongue insistently, echoing the rhythm of their frantically rocking hips.
Elladan shuddered violently, whimpering against the ancient elf’s lips. Feeling his

lover tense, Gildor pulled away to fasten his mouth onto the point of an ear, his own

breathing harsh and ragged.
“Oh, gods...” the dark elf panted, his body bucking uncontrollably as his release

washed over him. “Oh, gods... Gildor...”
The splash of warm cream and hoarse echo of his own name were Gildor’s undoing, and

he muffled a shout against Elladan’s neck as he spilled over their joined hands.
**********************************************
The mattress dipped tellingly as Elladan slipped into bed, his hair still damp from

the bath.
“Was it worth a century’s stable duty, then, tôren?” Elrohir asked quietly, rolling

to face his brother.
“’Twas certainly pleasant,” the elder twin replied with forced levity, “but I think a

century a bit extreme.”
“’Dan?” Elrohir whispered, the single word imbued with both dread and forgiveness.
“Nay,” Elladan answered, opening his arms uncertainly. “I could not. Cannot.”
The elf-knight moved into the offered embrace, giving comfort as much as accepting

it.
“I am glad,” he sighed.

*~*~*~*~*

Elvish Translations:
tôren – my brother

mellonen, mellynen – my friend, my friends

ernilen – my prince

pen dithen – little one

híren – my lord

melethen – my love

pen neth – young one

ernil neth – young prince

ellon – male elf
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The Blade's Edge

The Blade’s Edge