A night of fulfilled desires

BY : sevenofmine
Category: +Third Age > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 2935
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I do not make money from writing this story.

Chapter 15

The depressing thing was the silence. No elf uttered a single word on their way back to Thranduil’s palace. Lindir hung his head and did not dare to look at anyone. His feelings were mixed: pure sadness and grief for the loss of his mentor, and fear because he used to lead the elves when Lord Elrond had not been at hand. Neither Erestor nor Glorfindel were here in Mirkwood and he felt not up to guiding anyone or attending war councils as more than just a witness.

He had not noticed how much his limbs trembled with every step. He suddenly felt an embrace and his head was pressed against a chest he knew very well. It was Galion who had, together with the other remaining elves, come to the gate to welcome back the troops. They had realised very quickly that something must have happened when the returning elves had been nothing more than a funeral march looking company. Lindir closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of meadowsweet. Galion closed his arms around him and Imladris elf felt sheltered from the outside world and the expectations that he would soon face.

Then the murmurs began. “Elrond,” someone said. “Elrond,” they whispered. Upon hearing his name, Lindir weeped silently. Galion tightened his grip on him. Lindir did not remember how he made it to lie down, but suddenly he found himself in Galion’s bed, being stripped of his clothes. He could hardly keep his eyes open; he felt like in a dream, a bad dream. He heard someone else entering the room.

Galion looked up. Two other wood-elf servants carried Legolas into his room. They were puzzled at the sight of Lindir in the butler’s bed.

“We did not want to let his father solace him,” the she-elf servant explained.

Galion nodded understandably. He helped them heave the elf-prince onto the bed as well.

Legolas was as silent as Lindir, both their eyes were half-closed, staring into nowhere. The blonde elf’s cheeks were wet with tears that did not stop running down and dropping onto the pillow.

Galion sighed at the view of the two grieving elves. The other servants had left again and now he was faced with the difficult task of looking after the two elves who were drowning in sorrow. He started with removing Legolas’ clothes as well. The elf did not protest, he did hardly do anything.

He turned both elves onto their bellies. Lindir’s and Legolas’ hands touched, and they looked at each other. Their visions were blurry because of the tears and without saying a word, they understood each other. They closed their eyes again and held hands.

Galion got some oil. He wanted them to feel wanted, to feel loved, to feel satisfied. One of the servants who had brought Legolas in returned with a harp. Galion nodded to him silently, and he sat down in the chair at the desk and started playing a slow and meaningful piece. It had been written centuries ago, about loss and sacrifice, about love and grief.

Galion grabbed a flask with woodland herbs that had been harvested before the forest had gone bad. He mixed the dried plants with a special honey-oil in a bowel and dripped the liquid onto the grieving elves’ behinds. He then massaged the specially scented oil over their cheeks, devoting his right hand to Lindir and his left to Legolas, being equally skilled in them both. They gave silent moans and sounds of whimpering at times, but they also inhaled the odour and it calmed them.

Galion opened his night table drawer and grabbed a glass toy that the glassblower of the elves had manufactured only for him. It was shaped like several round marbles connected on a string, but thicker. It had no sharp edges and its design was flowing like the streams in the palace. He massaged at first Legolas’ butt cheeks with it before he gently pushed it into Legolas butthole. It was still red from his father’s treatment, but now it was not hurtful, only pleasing to him. Legolas sighed deeply, breathing out which ended in a silent whimper. Another tear ran over his face and dropped onto the white sheets.

The work that Galion performed in him was smooth and gentle and felt good. After a while, Legolas felt like being sheltered in cushions and disconnected from the world. He closed his eyes and smiled. Then Galion proceeded to do the same with Lindir until the Imladris-elf also showed a weak smile and his breathing had calmed. Soon, both elves were well asleep, their chests heaving and lowering in harmony.

The servant elf stopped the play of the harp and Galion went outside to wash his hands and the bowel in the small branch of the stream that went through the middle of the hallway. The elves used it to wash their hands or to relieve themselves at nights. The bigger streams were used for washing clothes or themselves.

When Galion returned, the harp player was covering the two elves with a blanket. Galion smiled at the sight of them having drifted into the dreamworld and hoped that they would not be tormented with their memories. The servant turned to him and placed a hand on his cheek.

“I am fine,” Galion muttered silently.

“You like caring for them,” the servant recognised and touched Galion between his legs with the other hand.

Galion looked down and realised he had an erection. He chuckled silently. The servant went on his knees and gently opened his trousers and underwear and pulled them down. Galion leaned against the wooden wall and closed his eyes. It had been a decade since this servant and he had stolen away one night during a feast and, instead of serving the lords and stewards, given each other pleasures in the dark forest. But the servant seemed not to have forgotten what it needed to make Galion aroused and he skilfully licked the glans and sucked from time to time. Galion moaned silently; he did not want to waken the sleeping elves. He finally found release in the servant’s mouth. He stood up and kissed Galion quickly.

“You care so much for everyone, sometimes you need to be cared for as well,” he whispered, took the harp and left. Galion, pleased, pulled up his trousers and went to help the cook elves prepare the evening meal for the soldiers.


Dinner was as silent as the return. Even King Thranduil preferred to dine in silence. There was no music which accompanied the meal tonight, and afterwards, the elves went about their business without any chattering. No one stayed for drinking or games as usual. Everyone felt the loss of Lord Elrond. Even though he and the elven-King had had their open differences, the half-elf had been the wisest and most loyal elf in all of Middle-earth. A messenger had been sent to Imladris, followed by a small troop of archers. The blue wizard was on his way to the mountains and they did not know whether his path through or above the mountains would lead him close to the elven town.

Another messenger had been sent on his way to the Hobbit-lands, but everything from Weathertop over The Shire to the White Downs west of Hobbiton would be an easy victory for orks or were-worms or spiders. They also sent some elves to tell the dwarves of the Blue Mountains to send soldiers to Hobbiton and Bree, but as they were elves telling the dwarves what to do, they were sure to meet deaf ears. Luckily, some men had mingled under the elvish riders along the way and eased the path to negotiations. So it came to be that a dwarf army marched into Hobbiton one early winter’s eve.

The Hobbits had not seen or wanted company from dwarves for many times, but they were also not the kind of people to tell them so into their faces. So most of them just looked out of their windows and watched as the inhabitants of the Blue Mountains who were little taller than themselves positioned themselves all around the meeting halls and official buildings. Some Hobbits who called themselves important came out and the dwarves explained their business. As they were here for protection and the hobbits themselves knew they could not protect themselves, they thanked the dwarves, gave them food, and then went back into their houses.

In Mirkwood it had become quiet and the spiders were not seen anymore, so King Thranduil started sending his men to help the rest of Arda. He had a hard time holding Legolas back who wanted to fight and even put him into the dungeons one night.

“You don’t understand, Ada!” he shouted through the bars.

“I do,” hissed his father, and then kindly added, “I felt the same when your mother died.” That shut up Legolas and made him think. “I was so angry… all I wanted to do was kill. Kill orcs, kill spiders,… even though it was a dragon that had killed her. I did not care. And I don’t want you to become like me.” With that, he left and let Legolas think about his words over the night. The next morning, Legolas was awoken by Galion pressing his lips onto his own. He had had a rough night of sleep and simply wanted to continue.

“Get up, dear prince. The dungeons are no place for you to sleep,” Galion said and lifted him up.

In the dining hall, Legolas met his father having breakfast. Lindir and the current King of Gondor sat by his side. They were talking about the sighting of were-worms near Tharbad.

“I would like to make myself useful,” Legolas said when he approached them.

“You can help Cwingand prepare the weapons. Our fifth troop is leaving this afternoon to Bree,” King Thranduil explained when suddenly a blonde elf rushed through the doors.

He stopped next to Legolas and was accompanied by two elf-guards who had not managed to keep pace with him. “We need your help, King Thranduil,” Glorfindel explained and bowed just enough to please the king.

As no one replied, Glorfindel continued, “just before… just before Lord Elrond had left, he had found out that an attack by Morgoth is imminent.”

“Where is this attack going to take place?” Lindir asked and stood up. No one had spoken Elrond’s name in days and the sound of it sent shivers down his spine. His stomach turned upside down and he felt ill immediately. His appetite was gone, his head felt dizzy, he nearly had the urge to vomit, his feelings played roulette and his mind began rushing him through memories and thoughts.

He remembered when he had first time spend more than just a few words and niceties with Lord Elrond and suddenly he had found himself incapable of eating. He had worked through a night with nothing but adrenaline and the wake-inducing effects of black tea. He had not understood at first what was happening to him until he had asked Galion for advice. It had been clear to the butler after a few minutes of talking that Legolas had fallen in love.

“Is it like catching a cold?” Legolas had asked, unsure of his feelings. He had never had such feelings before, and he could neither name nor interpret them. “Like, I caught a cold and it will make me weird for a few days and then I will return to normal.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t as easy as this,” Galion had answered.

Before, Legolas had always thought he would crush on other elves who he required sexually. But with Elrond he had not even thought about sex – at first. It was just his touch that he felt even days later, his hands that he could still imagine gliding over his back and arms. He could not even know how to put it into words what he felt or imagined. There was just this boost of emotions, this drive to not eat but still be awake and able to do things. Even though his mind often drifted back to the Lord.

“Aman,” the blonde Lord answered, and Legolas was once again pulled out of his dreams.

Glorfindel saw the shocked faces of the Moriquendi, the elves who had refused to go to the Undying Lands or who had not been ready at the time of the Valar’s last call.

“If we go there, we will not come back, one way or the other,” Lindir said. His eyes were fearful and Glorfindel felt sorry for him. He had not been prepared to negotiate with Thranduil as representative of Imladris, and he must have had a hard last few days.

“If we don’t go, there would not even be a Middle-earth to return to,” Glorfindel said. He then grabbed a chair and sat down with the three commanders to explain to them what Elrond had researched. Legolas kept standing but listened attentively.

After Glorfindel had finished his story, no one said a word. They all needed time to think.

“We need the second wizard,” Lindir said finally.

Glorfindel wanted to reply when suddenly a she-elf burst into the halls. “There was red light in the sky. It looked as if shattering the sky itself and it came down many miles into the west, behind the mountains,” she reported.

“It won’t be Morgoth himself, will it?” Legolas asked fearfully. It scared him even more that no one answered him.

King Thranduil stood up. “We send everyone west. A skeleton army remains here. We send word to every intelligent being on this continent. The battle of all battles has begun. We have to engage Morgoth.” The she-elf nodded. Together with the two guards at the door, they hurried to the horn of the army. It was blown less than a few minutes later: It meant that every able person within Thranduil’s realm was to prepare for war.


Legolas trembled on his whole body when he lay on his armour. His father came into his room, something he very rarely did.

“Before we leave, Legolas, we have to talk,” he said calmly and put his hand onto Legolas’ shoulder so that he would stop clothing himself. He hesitated and then indeed put his mithril shirt down.

“I haven’t always been a good father, I know that,” the Elven-king began. “I let out my wrath too often on you and I have treated you unfairly more than once. I was shocked when it was that half-elf who you fell in love with, and even more shocked when I realised that those feelings were real. I allowed it at first because I thought Elrond would be playing with you. But he was not. And I know what you are going through right now. I know that you will not care for anything when we engage the enemy. The only feeling you have is anger and your only goal is revenge.”

Legolas sighed. His adar knew him too well.

“I was there. I know what it feels like. But there are still so many things to live for. Do not get yourself killed,” Thranduil concluded his speech.

Legolas turned around and saw something he had never seen in his father’s eyes: a tear. Silently, he wiped it away. Then he leaned his head against his father’s chest. Thranduil hugged Legolas and the embrace felt so good. Legolas felt like a little elf-boy again, sheltered and cared for by his father.

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