Feud
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
125
Views:
27,624
Reviews:
413
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
125
Views:
27,624
Reviews:
413
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
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.
Aderthanen [Reunited]
by erobey erobey@gmail.com
unbeta'd
http://www.feud.shadowess.com
NEW!! http://www.tawarwaith.com NEW!!
http://www.livejournal.com/users/tawarwaith/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/tawarwaith/
Aderthanen [Reunited]
A shiver of uneasiness worked through Legolas' spine in a tumbling cascade of tingling nerves and he shifted on the mare's back. The appearance of this ghost of his comrade could only be a precursor to yet another ponderous struggle to nullify the unhappy fate lurking over Taurant and Gwilith. It seemed that the Powers were determined to try him beyond the limits of his resolve. Would this test never be done? What was he meant to do; what was left for him to prove? Had he not suffered enough to appease whatever Vala was so infuriated with Thranduil's misdeeds? Legolas did not consider himself prescient, yet he had to acknowledge the unpleasant prickling coursing over his vertebrae for the foreboding it was. Nor could he halt the conclusion from presenting itself: the ill luck that had plagued his entire life had lifted from him only to cloak the little ones with its suffocating sorrows.
Nay, I shall not fail them.
The grounds were strangely quiet and the normal chatter and bustle of soldiers changing the watch was subdued in response to the dying warrior's return, yet Legolas hardly noticed, being too engrossed in his fretting rumination. The Wood Elves in the stable yard shared their Tawarwaith's exasperated despair: it seemed the disruptive events on the plains of Erebor would never be over, never transform from raw and biting upheaval to just another bit of history, never fade into memory's least opened vaults. With the sentencing of Maltahondo, a perturbed but distinct sense of closure had filled the forest city, yet now this was seen to be an illusory wish rather than a genuine release from the pressure of nagging consciences and guilty hearts. The elven warriors gravely followed the former outcast's progress across the yard, yet each one lifted a hand in salutation, or gave a respectful nod of recognition, while a few hailed Tirno as he passed.
Tuilin flicked her ears in the direction of the dismayed sigh that left Legolas' lips and bent her neck to gaze at her rider, waiting to see if his tension might signal a change in course again. Legolas patted her shoulder absently and met her eye, confiding his worry but no intent to alter his destination. He let Tuilin saunter toward the postern by the great Sentinel, his childhood friend when none of elf-kind could be found, and smiled up into the lofty, age-gnarled limbs of the mighty beech. Ere he could call out, the gate keeper leaped down from his post and hastened to open the portal.
"Suilad, Brannon o Gladgalen," [Hail, Lord of the Greenwood] he called with a smile and an elaborate bow, fairly sweeping the ground with his trailing tresses.
"Avesto nin sen, an immen gwend. Pedo mellon, Tirno, egor Legolas sennui," [Do not call me this for between us is friendship. Say friend, Tirno, or Legolas instead.] corrected the weary warrior, taken by surprise, wondering if this elf was trying to be amusing with his exaggerated courtesy. It was such a complete reversal of the grim mood pervading the stable yard.
"Sui anirach, Tawarwaith," [As you wish, Tawarwaith.] the silvan grinned. "The path you know well, yet Fearfaron bids me caution you not to stray from it this evening. What dire consequences might result should you fail to adhere to his directive, even I cannot imagine."
Now Legolas understood it was indeed some subtle jest concocted by his adopted father and relaxed somewhat, gazing down in puzzled indulgence at the guard, whom he knew by sight but not name. He wondered briefly if the ellon recalled the last time he had crossed this threshold some seven years ago at this precise time of twilit shadows. With effort he drove the unpleasant memory of the final chastisement away, taking heart in marking that night as the one in which Fearfaron made him second son.
Tuilin's step became jaunty but gentle, more than a walk yet not so eager as a jigging trot, for it was certain she sensed excitement in the way ahead and was pleased over her place in the unfolding events. Just past sight of the gate, a sprinkling of merry laughter erupted overhead and from the branches descended a misty rain of shimmering motes, as if someone had gathered up particles of the Moon and showered them upon the solitary rider.
"Ai! What is this?" exclaimed Legolas. More giggles drifted down but the sound diminished as whomever had played the prank raced safely back toward home. Then Legolas grinned, brushing at the fine coating and rubbing it between his fingers to learn its composition. It was a fine powder of weightless mollusc shells and the flakes gleamed faintly in the dull dusk beneath the eaves. In the open clearing wherein lay his home, however, the silvery albescence of Ithil would adhere to the dust and the lustre of his argent nimbus would be enhanced. He would look like a vision from Aman to any catching sight of him there. He chuckled appreciatively over Fearfaron's ingenuity and creative enhancement to the archer's plans for seducing Berenaur.
Not that he actually had any specific strategy worked out. He had more or less considered things would just happen, as they normally did, for he had always been the one pursued and not the suitor. His heart gave a small skip of apprehension that he just as quickly squelched.
A turn in the trail revealed a transfiguration of the woods, for apparently the ground beneath them was covered in a million minute glowworms, though this was not possible at such a time of year. The pathway glimmered and gleamed with tiny pinpoints of light so that it seemed his mare trod upon a swath of the heavens laid down to guide his way. Legolas could not at first fathom what manner of illumination was granting the leafy mould this delicate phosphorescence and was tempted to get down and gather up some of the glitter to satisfy his curiosity.
The only explanation he could contrive was that a store of luminescent pebbles had been cast by the handful over the narrow road, and in fact this was the case. Such were common amid the stream beds and caves around the city and much favoured among the younglings. Indeed, during his elfling years Legolas had collected them and cherished his 'Ithil hern' [Moon stones] until far past his majority.
Next, a soft melodious chorus of joyful voices filled the space all around him with a lilting carol sung to celebrate the eternal joining of two lives. This was another tradition reserved for the formal recognition of a bond that Legolas had not expected to enjoy. For the whole community to sanction his choice of the foreign elf was deeply gratifying and their undaunted faith in the strength of the bond to overcome the enchantment encouraged him. Within these thoughts rose anew the vow to rid his home of the ills that plagued so kindly and humble a folk.
It was easy to see his foster father had prepared these simple effects in hopes of distracting his mind from anything save a complete recovery of the seneschal's memory and a the renewal of the couple's love. Yet Legolas could not help it if the tender strains of the age-old ballad sounded bitter-sweet to his hearing, nor could he entirely quell the fear that the path of light might lead to emptiness instead of fulfilment.
All was utterly still as the elven song concluded and if not for the faint noise of Tuilin's hooves and the dainty tolling of her silver bells, he might have truly believed he was no longer in Greenwood but drifting within some ethereal realm above the dome of Arda. No breeze stirred the barren branches and not the faintest rustle amid the underbrush betrayed the activity of nocturnal wildlife. Then Legolas perceived the Spirit of the Great Wood gently enveloping him, not in a rush of protective presence or an engulfing swirl of commanding strength, but shyly; flitting between the trees and running alongside the horse, glimpsing the wild elf from the branches and ducking away just beyond sight if he chanced to bend his gaze there. Tawar had no wish to overwhelm Legolas, though the warrior had spent too long under the dense insulation of the granitic fortress, deprived of the nearly constant communion the two had developed over the years of exile. He sighed in gratitude.
Legolas lagged back, absorbing the comfort of the connection he had come to depend on while alone among the forsaken southern woods. Indecision haunted him, for he while longed to hurry along the way and be near to Berenaur again he could not deny his nervousness lest his hopes be shattered. He must know, and the sooner the better, yet still he held the horse to a sluggish pace. The distance left was not a great one, however, and Tuilin soon reached the encircling ring of beeches protecting the ancient sanctuary. With a toss of her head and a soft whinny, she took a small leap and broke into a smooth canter, carrying her light burden with pride into the sheen of Ithil.
Legolas halted her just beside the ancient stump and its daughter oak, and gazed upon the muffled light spilling from the humble talan. He noted the closely tied drapes and the drawn silk screens, the closed trap and the absence of any rope to climb up, and his fears fell upon his consciousness with the weight of the mountain he had left behind. He could not even name what he had expected to see, only that it was not there, and his heart was suddenly swollen with affliction such that a thousand tears would not relieve its dolorous burden.
And then a slit of bright yellow parted the fabric panels for a minute, a finger of illumination that reached right out and verily traced his form where he sat, and Legolas smiled. He could almost feel the eyes rendering that inspection.
Tuilin refused to cover the remaining paces to the base of the venerable tree, feeling her Lord should be graciously met and welcomed, and soon the rattley clap of the trap heaving open made her snort and flare her nostrils in indignation. It had taken too long and she counted every second an insult to the Tawarwaith she bore. She flounced her elaborately plaited mane and announced their arrival in a harmonious shower of muted chiming and knelling. Against the backdrop of her heraldry, the subtle slithering of the hithlain rope was nearly missed while almost the next instant the tall shadowy form of the talan's occupant slid down to land noiselessly in the duff.
Curiosity overcoming trepidation, Erestor strode two steps out and halted, marvelling at the other worldly figures paused within the time-touched fane. The Noldo was uncertain if this was a real event or yet another vivid recollection and he hesitated to disturb the tableau. The horse and rider were both aglow with some grand soft shroud; this mirage nothing like the mental images of Legolas his faulty brain had returned. Nay, even the light about them seemed beyond the humble confines of Arda marred, for thus had he ever imagined the twilight of Aman, when the mixing suffusion of Telperion's silver dew and Laurelin's golden rain at the twelfth hour cast such rich effulgence. The silvan must belong to those uncounted days before Anor and Ithil. But he recognised the mounted elf's face easily and smiled; there was no mistaking Legolas, even if he seemed more a fey creature out of some mythical fantasy than a common Wood Elf.
No ordinary woodland archer is this. He is the Watcher and the Bane of Darkness, the Hope of the Trees and the Tawarwaith of his people, Legolas. And more, there is another name, one no other dares call him save me. But to his frantic dismay Erestor could not call the word to the front of his mind and speak it.
Legolas had not dismounted and regarded him with a peaceful if somewhat intense expression gathered into the slight uplift of ruby lips and the adamantine glint of night-darked eyes. Erestor found he could not bear to look away for fear the dreamy sight might vanish yet found it difficult to draw sufficient breath while locked within that compelling stare. He knew not what to do or say. Was he expected to welcome the elf into his own homestead or await the greeting of the woodland warrior? The chief advisor to Imladris' Lord fidgeted like an elfling caught snatching apples from a neighbour's orchard in summer. He did not belong there and yet he had not been granted leave to go.
Legolas waited, not certain what it was he required to assure him that this audience was not a mistake. Yet he could not just dismount and saunter over to the Noldo, utter some trivial greeting and lead him up to the bedroom. Not if this was not his Berenaur, at any rate. His Berenaur would welcome such a cheeky antic. What Noldo Lord this might be he could only guess: Rusciphant perhaps or even Erestor in the flesh, that unknown quantity whispered of as pompous, promiscuous, and predatory. Should that ellon reveal himself, Legolas could not stay here and thus he had not alit. He was ready to bolt the moment the Imladrian gave the slightest signal that he beheld nothing but another Wood Elf, just one more unworthy stranger amid the host of lesser elves inhabiting the wild woods. Fearfaron would take him in if needed and offer a sturdy shoulder to absorb all the tears such a catastrophe would herald.
Well, Tuilin had grown bored with the lack of stimulus and though she was an elven raised equine still she was composed of the same mortal stuff as her lesser kin domesticated by Men. She needed her sleep in the regular cycles governed by Anor's path and could not remain vigilant for days on end as did her edhel friends. She felt it was time for her cargo to go on about his business, for she had delivered him safe and sound as promised. Without warning she turned her head and nipped lightly at the Tawarwaith's knee.
"Ai!" Legolas startled in surprise more than pain, for she had been cautious not to break through the leggings much less the skin.
Erestor jumped, too, on hearing the vision speak, or at least cry out, and he found his heart thumping in the aftermath. It was real enough then, and he must act if the Wood Elf would not.
"Legolas?" he spoke evenly and smiled up into the inscrutable depths of silver and ink.
"Aye. Do you know me then?"
"Yes." An infinitesimal pause. "I know you."
Tuilin stretched her neck forward and craned open her long jaws in a tremendous and rather pungent yawn, hoping the elves might at last take the hint. Erestor waved a hand before him in silent complaint and Legolas chuckled to see it.
"Valar! You are showing uncommon courtesy to so rude a horse!" he quipped. Swiftly swinging his right leg over the mare's neck he slid from Tuilin's back with easy grace, smiling when Berenaur moved a step closer as though to aid him then stopped. Instead he extended his hand and with but a minor amount of hesitation Legolas grasped it.
The instant their palms connected Erestor found he could no longer doubt the truth his soul had been so diligently attempting to make apparent. The elf on the other end of this juncture was transmitting a deep sense of relief merely to be in such simple and limited contact with him. The advisor found his mind supplying another recollection of walking together, fingers interlocked just so, and the contentment radiating from Legolas now spoke louder than any proclamation. He had given Erestor his heart as freely as he had given his hand.
The seneschal felt elated and frightened both, for he must face the betrayal of his Galadhrim mates' trust, no matter Fearfaron's assurances that the couple knew more than perhaps had been discussed between the trio. He could not deny his inner spirit's decision; he fully enjoyed being the focus of this silvan warrior's adoration and hoped to prove worthy of such a gift. If he could grant Legolas the happiness he deserved it would be worth the disgrace his roving eye had brought upon him, but he doubted an easy resolution. The Valar will never allow me to retain so rare and exquisite a mate, his guilt chided. He shall be taken from me, for I have done nothing to deserve this blessing. He sighed sadly, not considering that his feelings were easily detectable to the wild elf at his side.
Legolas could not help a small bloom of confused anger. On one hand he thought he perceived his love returned and the next could feel the Noldo pulling his inner light away. Berenaur will reject me after all, or worse, stay beside me out of pity! He felt sick. This casual camaraderie was farcical and even cruel. He wanted to leave at once and attempted to tug loose, but even as on their first walk beneath the trees, Berenaur tightened his grip and refused to let go. The Tawarwaith was bewildered and felt the hurt growing even as hope struggled to displace it.
"Hannad, roch en Gladgalen," [My thanks, horse of the Greenwood] Erestor smiled as they set forth for the rope and gave a companionable slap to Tuilin's rump as she ambled out of the glade. He turned his eyes to the elf beside him and surveyed him closely, clasping the hand within his grasp tighter when Legolas tried to break loose. He frowned, seeing the sudden spark of fire in the azure orbs, uncertain of the cause, and cautiously trailed his free fingers over the extensive bandaging and the restricting sling. If the small box balanced upon that hindered limb caught his notice, he did not find it worthy of remark in consideration of the warrior's strange state of angry fatigue. He thought perhaps Legolas expected some commiseration from him regarding recent events.
"Fearfaron told me what happened; it was a bold move to confront the Sinda King thus. Yet the cost was too dear. I am glad you rode here instead of trying to walk so far alone. That blade has an evil history. I wish we were in Imladris or Lorien, for I would have Galadriel or Elr… or a more knowledgeable healer examine the wound." Erestor felt the silvan go rigid for a second and cursed his loose tongue for such a careless slip.
"Nay, it was a vainglorious and stupid action on my part. I never even thought about the consequences and you are right, the price was high and paid by many of my people. I understand that some of the woodland guards now face charges of treason for trying to defend my foolish deed."
"Yet how could they not try to stop Thranduil when they saw you blooded. Surely he must comprehend their fear and confusion and will reduce any penalties."
"Thranduil has already showed restraint, for I expected to die under his hand, and thus my true subversion is revealed. Long have I maintained that for the sake of my siblings I would not see him brought low, yet if he took my life, justly or not, he would have forfeited his rule and my home would be in chaos now. How would this benefit my infant brother and sister?
"As for that dagger, I have survived worse wounds from fouler blades. Gladhadithen is a fine healer, equal to any in Lorien or your own country. If there is something more sinister about Caranthir's dirk, no physician could reveal it anyway. But, mayhap you are right; the cousins of that vile kinslayer would understand. Hîren Adar [My Lord Father] is the only one in Greenwood who might know the true nature locked within its mithril bulk. I do not feel other than weary and there is ample reason to account for that without fearing black arts and sorcery." Legolas could not help the harsh, scalding chord of acrimony underlying his speech.
"I think you are too critical to accuse yourself so strongly." Erestor could not think what else he could possibly say in answer to this oration. He felt Legolas' words were wrong but was ill equipped to refute them with so many blank pits of abyssal emptiness honey-combing the scattered memories he had regained thus far. "There were circumstances that promoted your decisions, and if those were erroneous it is only because the soul making them was blinded in some ways. I am thinking you did not want those circumstances nor invite them. How can you berate yourself for reacting as anyone must when so encumbered with sorrows?"
"I can do so because my actions brought harm to others, people undeserving of injury, elves I should be concerned with protecting."
"Are you referring to the same population that cast you out and reviled you? These Wood Elves allowed you to be beaten and assaulted on a regular basis for twelve years." Erestor shuddered. "Twelve years! And after that, only Fearfaron stood up for you. Only recently have these fickle folk deigned to demonstrate any compassion or gratitude for what you have done for the Woodland Realm while under so severe a sentence. Everyone has acknowledged that the crimes you were convicted of were committed by another. Whatever small bumps and bruises these Danwaith have received is a trifle in comparison."
Now it was Legolas' turn to be dumbfounded as to a rebuttal. This was very like the counsel his Berenaur had given once before and his heart warmed to it. Mayhap he should not discard hope but fight to hold on to that which was dear to him, even as the carpenter had said. He smirked over the evident scorn in the seneschal's voice while pronouncing the name of his people's race and decided to chide the Noldo for it.
"I am one of those Danwaith."
Erestor stared at his companion a moment, assuring himself that he had truly heard this jocular point, and then grinned hugely and decided to play along.
"What nonsense! You are only half backwards."
"Backwards! Nay, Thranduil is half, according to Fearfaron, and my naneth is full-blooded Nandor, so I am only a small fraction Sinda after all."
"What? You jest, surely. All he ever speaks about is the superiority of the Sindar elves."
"Does this lower me in your estimation also?"
"Nay, never think that."
They halted beneath the open trapdoor, each staring up into the bright yellow square, and another pause began. Erestor did not think it proper to go up first, for this was not even his home. Legolas was merely pondering how to make the climb encumbered by the box of emeralds.
"Berenaur," he said and noticed the Noldo's minute jerk of surprise. Legolas' heart squeezed against his ribs then, for it was abundantly clear the advisor was not comfortable hearing the name spoken. Just that quickly the congenial atmosphere dissipated and this time when the archer sought to remove his hand the Noldo did not stop him. "Climb up and I shall toss this to you. Then I shall follow." Even to his own ears Legolas' voice sounded morose as he indicated the wooden container.
"Of course," mumbled Erestor, aware his reaction was the wrong one, yet what was he to do? Naturally it would be a shock to hear that word fall from anyone's lips, much less this silvan warrior's. It was unnerving, for its meaning was deeply personal, and he could not recall the night when he had decided to employ it for the purposes of deceit, though so Fearfaron had duly informed him. To hear Legolas speak it was just a reminder of his atrocious conduct, both to have sullied the name for so base a purpose and to have permitted his well-known appellation to become an unspeakable one to the wild elf.
Even as this slump of glum thoughts settled in his mind, Erestor squirmed through the opening and leaned back down for the box. Legolas lobbed it high, scampered after, and soon the two stood facing one another in the sitting room.
"What is in it?" Erestor asked, offering the simple cask back.
Legolas smiled as he took it, rather sad that he needed the stones for another diversion, and walked to the low table beside the sofa. With a flourish he indicated for the Noldo to join him and set the box down, flicking open the lid. As Erestor gasped and sank upon the settee, awe-struck by the heap of gems, the Tawarwaith instinctively dug his hand inside his pocket and gripped the golden ring. Now was certainly not the time and he turned away, making an effort at normalcy as he moved about the small abode.
"Valar, where did you get these? You know what they are?" Erestor blurted out. He stood to find the woodland warrior poking around curiously, opening drawers and cabinets in the cupboard, picking up the silver lantern with a smile that spoke of fond reminiscence, shaking his head and snickering over the dainty little sofa.
"They are just a collection of emeralds," Legolas said with a peculiar quirk to his lips, "I plan to have gifts fashioned from them for my siblings." He strolled into the kitchen and could be heard rummaging about.
"A collection indeed," Erestor commented. "These are legendary and thought lost in the drowning of Beleriand by the Great Sea after the War of Wrath. All this time Thranduil has had them?"
"I know not when he came into possession of…Oh sweet Eru!"
This vain proclamation issued from the small pantry in hushed tones of either shock or horror, the Noldo could not tell which, and he rushed in to learn what was wrong. He found Legolas staring down at something on the far side of the kitchen table, face red but eyes shining a quite bright and vibrant cerulean.
"I just found Fearfaron's bonding gift."
"Ah!" was all Erestor could think of, staring from the Bench to the slender silvan in growing comprehension, and a salacious smile refashioned his expression.
Now that he had the elf before him in reality with ample light to make an assessment, the advisor took his time and let his eyes roam the slight form at will. His grin expanded as Legolas' blush deepened. There was much to appreciate for the Wood Elf was fair of features and just the right mix of self-conscious reserve and unconcealed desire. Not many could achieve the balance so well and Erestor felt his loins constrict as he anticipated the evening's events. The seneschal was in his element and no doubts need cloud his actions in this sort of exchange.
"You have played on one of these before, I see."
"Aye." Legolas swallowed, wincing at the nearly exact replication of words. No use putting it off any longer. "With you on our binding night."
The phrase fell upon the fragile framework of their reconstructed acquaintance, a broken branch falling through the delicate lace-work of a silk spinner's web.
"I see," Erestor repeated, mind numb as the meaning of the answer sank in. He suddenly felt much less sure of how to proceed and wished the archer had not discovered the Bench at all. He licked his lips, suddenly dry and parched, and sighed. "Legolas, we should speak of this. Will you sit with me by the grate?"
Legolas' spirit crumpled; never had Berenaur spoken with such impersonal courtesy to him, not even when first encountering the Noldor spies in the southern reaches. He did not bother to reply, merely turning and stumbling to the sitting room. Somehow he found himself on the footstool, Erestor crouched on the floor next to him, pressing something against his hand. It was only then Legolas realised he must have actually fallen rather than tripped. The object was a cup, cold from its contents, and he automatically took a swallow as that was what he was being urged to do. Erestor's eyes kept searching his and he knew the elf was speaking, but the words did not seem important anymore. The miruvor began its magic, however, and his malaise cleared enough to comprehend the frantic speech.
"Valar! Legolas, answer me! I just wish to be honest, no more deception; my wish is not to hurt you. Eru's arse, the grief alone will kill me if I find I have harmed you yet again. Please speak!"
"I…I am sorry," Legolas stammered out as his senses returned. "Mayhap I am not as well recovered as I believed. Do not be concerned, this is not your doing."
"But it is. I do not want to mislead you a second time, for I am sure that would be wrong and only do your spirit greater injury. Yet I see that the truth will be hard to bear also. Alas! I know not the right course!"
"Peace! I am not so weak as that. You may tell me what is real for you and what is not; it is clear enough anyway. I swear I shall not succumb to grief."
Yet as Erestor gazed into the stricken eyes he knew this to be a lie.
"You have already suffered from it this very day, is that not so? I felt it, too. By Varda, I would not have you ever know such excruciation on my account, not ever! Anything would I do, anything, if only to prevent this."
"You experienced that?" Legolas was disturbed. "Are you certain it was grieving and not after effects from the enchantment?"
"Need you ask? You have known worse, according to Mithrandir, but I have not. If what I endured was but a faint reflection of your suffering, then you have survived far beyond the limits of my tolerance for pain. Battles I have joined, wounds I have taken, yet never felt anything so horrendous. Not even the whip of Durin's Bain was so tormenting, for that touched only my flesh. The agony visited upon me this evening reaved my very feä, as though to hold it fast was unbearable yet to free it an unspeakable misery."
"Ai, Berenaur! Fearfaron warned me not to despair. Forgive me, I never wished to hurt you so."
"What are you talking about now? Not everything is your fault, Legolas. It is the way of things between bonded elves; has no one ever taught you the basic truths regarding such intimate connections? Elbereth!"
"Then we are still bonded? What I feel you do also? I thought you meant to tell me your heart was untouched."
"Nay, my heart is tied to yours indeed. I wished only to explain that my memory is limited and I am confused, still, over how all this came to be. It is troubling to my soul for while I cannot forsake you this means I have wronged the Lorien elves to whom I have long been bound."
"Alas, this has been my constant worry ever since our union. I had no desire to bring grief upon them. What will happen to them…and to us? Can…can they force you to honour their bond and relinquish ours?"
"No. They are not unkind and would wish my happiness. I just feel ashamed that in selfishly seeking it I must cause them pain."
"I do not want to be the catalyst of such soul wounds!" Legolas tried to pull back from the seneschal and arise from the seat, but found his legs hindered by the Noldo's tight grip upon his thighs.
"You are not the author of any hardship they will know. Listen to me, Legolas, I have not been completely honest about this."
"Oh Valar, what now?" wailed Legolas, quite at the summit of his capacity for unpleasant revelations.
"It is true I let my heart accept their love, but I have not returned it in full. For centuries I have held back the better part of my soul from Orophin and Dambethnîn, thinking they did not note the feebleness of my commitment. I realise now this cannot be so for with you I experience the fullness of a genuine joining, feä to feä. I would feel it at once if your surrender to me was less than complete. They must have been aware of my reticence, for the bond between them is as real as ours.
"So now you must comprehend it; what is lacking between myself and my Lorien mates long predates my association with you. I never bonded with them; it is a lie I have told innumerable times over the centuries, hoping to protect my many transient lovers from unreasonable expectations or damaged hearts. Do you hear? This is not a burden I will permit you to bear on my behalf." Erestor searched Legolas' eyes intently, seeking any indication of remaining anxiety, and watched in growing joy as the troubled clouds of rueful doubt receded, scattered by the fresh current of honesty borne on the Noldo's words.
"Eru's arse!" hissed Legolas, a devilish smile upending his lips in spite of himself, "You used them! You are indeed a rogue and a scoundrel."
"That is rather harsh! Fearfaron says I should not worry about it; he was not so scandalised." Erestor blushed in unsettled chagrin. "It is a serious thing, surely, but I gave them much pleasure in return for the comfort of their accepting hearts."
"Much pleasure, that I do believe," smirked Legolas and spontaneously leaned forward and rested his head upon the Noldo's shoulder, breathing deeply the scent of the milky skin he so cherished, curling an elbow round the nape of Berenaur's neck, insinuating his fingers in the glossy onyx locks. "But not any more? I have no right but I do not wish to share."
"The right is yours, Legolas. I could not find delight in trysting with them, knowing it would wound you. Lay aside these fears; I will not leave you for them, nor for any other." Erestor wrapped his arms around the silvan and pulled him closer, letting one hand burrow under the cape and find its way to the scarred back, gently caressing the taut muscles. He smiled to hear the soft sigh of contentment as the tension left Legolas' body.
They remained quiet for a time, holding each other close, not in any hurry to accelerate the pace of their reunion, snug in the comfort of comfortable familiarity. But after a while Legolas stirred, for he was worried over his lover's bout of soul-sickness.
"What is it?" asked Erestor, lightly pressing his lips to the golden head.
"The bond between us made you suffer. Will it be thus whenever I am in a difficult situation? I will need to return to my duties eventually and this means I will often be in danger. And if you fear for me, will I then also come to know that fear and thus be consumed by it?"
"No that cannot be so. Orophin and Dambethnîn are both warriors; they have been joined a long time and must worry for each other's welfare whenever they are parted, yet it does not hinder their abilities. I think what happened to us today is different, for your despair was so intense. Should either of us be on the brink of such hopelessness, craving death and self-destruction, the other cannot help but experience the impending loss keenly."
"Forgive me, but I could not wake you. I could not reach you. I could not feel you near me; there was only a black void in my heart where your presence had once filled it. I believed you lost to me and the bond a ruse, an imagined dream of a foolish elfling." Legolas shuddered in the memory of that terrible emptiness and Berenaur tightened his hold around him.
"Aye, it was a sort of non-existence, that is all I can think of to describe it. I was not dreaming, my soul was not free to wander in reverie, indeed I was unaware of my feä, no thoughts of any kind were present, no feelings, nothing. When I wakened, there was only a vast expanse of blank time. Where I was during the enchantment terrifies me even now, for it was like the loss of sensibility that comes from near-mortal injuries."
"The memories are returning?"
"Aye, slowly, haphazardly, and not in any logical sequence or order. Some are clear and distinct, others more subtle and too ephemeral to define. And some images are surprisingly bold and lucid, due in part to the fusion of our feär. I saw you with your uncles in that tree, for example. Strange, that was, for its branches were summer-clothed instead of bare, as now. How do you explain that if it was real and not a vision? Yet I know it truly happened for Fearfaron has confirmed it."
"It is the way for Tawar, for the time of summer is favoured among the woods; what is seen within the consciousness of Tawar is equal parts vision and reality. But you amaze me, for I did not explain about the Sentinel to Fearfaron. That is the second time Tawar has favoured you."
"Nay, the third. The first was after the rains in the central regions."
"You never mentioned that before. What was this other vision?"
"Did I not? It seemed a sore topic, I suppose. However, the trees rejoiced for you despite Elrond's fiendish maltreatment, for Tawar could see your intent well enough and that was an honest desire to give and receive comfort."
"I do not care to think on it; how could I find such an ignoble mind appealing?" Legolas was filled anew with disgust for his lack of insight and failure to control his body's urges.
"I do not think it was his intellect, noble or otherwise, that initially drew your eye! You are no different from any other living elf. There is much to find attractive in the Noldo Lord and you should not hold yourself morally deficient for giving in to a lust he and I worked so diligently to arouse." Erestor was still for a moment considering the underlying question in Legolas' words. "I do not hold it against you, no more than you have found reason to vituperate me for my uncounted assignations, even though my indiscretions were deliberate and freely chosen.
"Your reactions, on the other hand, were manipulated from the start. You had no way of knowing Elrond's identity and you were utterly alone; besides, your character is such that you would not suspect subterfuge and harmful intent. Nor could Tawar aid your understanding. The Greenwood still cannot fathom that someone so esteemed would be so cruel. Such is not within the trees' way of comprehending things; one Elf Lord's character perceived from afar is too faint a note upon which to tune their part of the Song."
"You speak like a silvan!" Legolas laughed, a free sound, soaring and exultant like a falcon in flight.
"I have been taught so by a master of the trees."
Legolas found he was close to exuberance to have this last ugly truth out in the open and so easily dealt its due. Berenaur did not find him reprehensible for the lapse in virtue; instead he removed him from blame and lauded his natural inclination to trust any foe of the Darkness. The Noldo's explanation of the Greenwood's spirit was a gratifying bonus, for this was a side to the Tawarwaith's existence he believed his life-mate could never share.
They traded smiles, softly warm ones, and Legolas gratefully nestled into the sheltering arms of Berenaur. Somehow they had descended to the floor before the radiating grate, the Wood Elf resting against his beloved's chest, the seneschal's hands firmly locked upon his lean belly, for both could not sit on the ottoman and Erestor would not leave Legolas' side to take a separate chair. If they were bewildered to be talking together so easily about things so fraught with pain and sorrow, neither cared to examine the phenomenon too closely for fear of inviting the edgy strain back into their fragile reunion. It was enough to attribute the mood to the bond between their souls and simply accept it.
The Tawarwaith replayed his mate's words, considering the seneschal's initiation to the darker zones of love and wondering at the comparison of the agony to that created by a Balrog's fiery weapon. His thoughts focused on the long, curved remnant of that encounter and his curiosity was awakened.
"You never told me how you got that scar. It happened during the wars in Eregion? I had imagined it was during the sack of Gondolin."
Just as soon as he mentioned the scar Legolas regretted it, for now this brought to mind his many marks and blemishes. With dread he realised that Berenaur probably did not remember how badly he was marred, and instantly he became self-conscious of revealing this. Allowing the Noldo to catalogue each one during their love-making had been liberating yet gruelling and Legolas had no wish to go through the procedure a second time.
"Nay, through Gondolin's ruin I remained unscathed."
Erestor detected that slight stiffening in his mate's shoulders as Legolas drew away, though the distance between them was less than a hand's breadth. Instinctively he tightened his encircling hold and pulled back, resettling the disquieted archer in place, trailing his lips against the set jaw and up to the tapered elven ear as he did so. With a shiver and a sigh the Tawarwaith relented, leaning back fully, and Erestor smiled as he peeked beneath coal black lashes at the gentle flush returning to his lover's cheeks.
"And I received only minor wounds in the ravaging of Eregion by the forces of Angmar's putrid King. Not until the Balrog of Moria was unleashed did I take serious injury. It does not make my form displeasing to you, does it?"
As he spoke, the Noldo's hands disengaged. One pressed a tender caress against rippling abdominals around the silvan's navel and, while the thumb found a pleasant diversion in that tiny fold of skin, the rest of the fingers delved lower, dipping just beneath the waistband of the blood sullied leggings.
"What?" Legolas could not suppress a gasp at the inquisitive exploring of the long, slender digits. "Nay, you are magnificent and well do you know it."
"But the scar is there. Are you sure it does not make you cringe every time you see it?"
Erestor let the index pointer of his left hand trip lightly up the centre of Legolas' torso to his breastbone, relishing the excited goose flesh following its wake. Then, he propped his chin upon the warrior's fur-draped shoulder and watched as he retraced the path lazily back to the crease formed by the bend at the waist. Legolas trembled in anticipation.
"That is absolute rubbish! How can you imagine that?"
"The same way you fear my reaction to the signs of your long torment, the evidence of numerous battles you have engaged against Sauron's foul creations, alone in this Valar forsaken place."
Erestor cocked his head slightly to catch the wild elf's eye and smiled a lopsided grin as Legolas turned his head to do the same. Their lips were scarcely a finger's width apart now and the Noldo examined his lover's crimson mouth intently; he looked up quickly and caught Legolas in the same state of ogling. When the archer's vision levelled with his, however, Erestor saw only shame there.
"It is not the same. My marks were not nobly won, not the worst of them." Legolas' voice was as brittlely disfigured as his body.
"Only in your own mind is that true. I thought I had removed all those doubts, for Fearfaron said our love had healed us both of this malignant affliction of self-loathing. It shall be my supreme pleasure to re-educate you."
The pupils in the beckoning pools of sapphire widened at this and Erestor smiled as he claimed their first kiss, savouring the taste of the wild elf. Legolas opened willingly to him, eagerly inviting the seneschal's exploration. The Noldo took his time and kissed him well, delighting in the fervour with which his tongue's teasing torment was answered. He had intended it to be slow and dreamy, searching and seductive, but the archer already knew what most pleased him and soon Erestor was lost in the searing passion ignited by their questing lips.
They broke to breathe and the advisor felt giddy. He stared in wonder, all doubts gone, for he yearned to complete their union and claim this bond which everyone had so lectured him to preserve. It would be impossible for him to do otherwise. The idea of violating it or suppressing it, denying it or ending it was inconceivable. Easier would it be to still his heart or stop his respiration.
"Oh," he whispered through heaving ribs, "I did not know it was like this."
"Nor did I," grinned Legolas, more at peace than he had ever been, for this was his Berenaur, no matter what days might be missing from his thoughts of their time before, all of eternity stretched before them now.
Erestor delighted to behold the light that filled his lover's eyes and reached for the clasp of the great red stone holding the cloak secure. He had already remarked what a fine soft cape it was and that it was amply large for the pair to lie upon. His intent was to renew their bond here and now before the grate, not wishing to delay long enough even to get Legolas up to the sleeping platform. As his busy digits worked at the catch, Erestor's mouth employed itself upon the tantalising tip of the archer's ear. His heart soared at every sighing moan this incited, and his nose inhaled Legolas' erotic scent until he thought he might faint from the exhilaration.
Finally, the jewel came loose and Erestor cast Oropher's Hûn-en-ûr [Heart of Fire] carelessly over his shoulder. The ruby skittered and bounced across the wooden planks, coming to rest under the small table by the trap. The majestic panther skin fell silently onto the floor behind the Wood Elf, revealing the sling and the bandaging more clearly. Erestor hesitated, drawing back to determine the degree of debilitation Legolas had incurred.
"Ai, it must be severe indeed," he gently loosed the confining fabric from the stricken limb, careful to support the weakened arm with his free hand. "It must be painful, too."
"Only a little. It is really not so bad. I have survived…"
"Worse. Aye, you have fought bands of Orcs and colonies of spiders, packs of wargs and a clutch of Wraiths all alone in the darkest corners of Mirkwood's blackened heart. You are not alone in the wilds this night and I will determine what is best. Can you move the arm at all?"
"Of course I can move it. Gladhadithen just fusses too much." But Legolas could not camouflage the strain lifting his arm entailed and drew a sharp breathe, halting the motion before his wrist was above his head.
"Nay, do not. You will tear the wound open," cautioned Erestor. He got up and strode over to the sofa and gathered up several of the plump pillows there. Returning he piled these at Legolas' back. "Lie down," he coaxed and gingerly settled his mate into the fluffy nest. "I will do the work this night." He fitted his actions to his words and pried off the archer's boots and belt, untied the leggings and whisked them off in lightening speed.
"Ai!" Legolas gasped, never having been disrobed so quickly, flexing his pelvis as his cock responded to the increased freedom and rose up in jaunty anticipation. "What sorts of toil and labour are you planning?"
"Oh, only the most gratifying kind, I assure you. First I must refresh my memory. I shall need to inspect the resources I have at my disposal." Erestor wasted no time at all, reaching down to cup the heavy sac and its hidden twin burdens, just palpating the sensitive flesh enough to make his lover wail and twitch.
"Not fair." Legolas found it difficult to catch his breath or concentrate on much beyond what Berenaur's hands were doing. "I should be allowed to examine the tools you intend to employ."
"As you wish," chortled Erestor. Instead of disrobing, however, he lifted one of Legolas' impossibly long legs and licked and nibbled the tender inner stretch of the archer's thigh. "Here are the lips and teeth and tongue I will use to pleasure you," he murmured and let his grazing follow the outline of the jagged scar there. Tasting brought a flash of recognition; he had done so before and he kissed the maroon mark reverently as his mate became still in tense apprehension. Erestor lifted his eyes to the Tawarwaith's and languidly licked the spot again.
"Ah, beloved, do not fear for me to know you thus. I cannot be other than enthralled." The strain vanished from the muscles under his hands and he sighed, licking the sensitive flesh again. He could not be satisfied with this meagre sampling, however, and encouraged by Legolas' urgent exclamation of lusty desire, he continued over the knee, down the calf, and all the way to the slender foot. He ran his tongue along the length of the sole from the heel to the toes and back to the centre of the arch. Here he found the spot ticklishly responsive. Legolas yelped and he repeated the procedure, holding the ankle tight when the Tawarwaith tried to jerk it away.
"Ah, nay, oh stop!" Legolas was writhing and giggling uncontrollably and decided to end the gentle torture by popping the seneschal lightly on the head with the opposite foot.
"Why that was uncalled for," Erestor grinned and grabbed the offending appendage and quickly subjected it to the same torment, laughing to see the fit of snorting peals overtake his lover anew.
He decided to taste every inch of skin on the rest of this leg also and before long was back at the inner thigh, insinuating his mobile tongue into the hot crease of skin where the limb joined the torso. The scent of Legolas arousal was strong, captured in the silky patch of golden pubic hair and the thin sweaty skin of the tightly drawn pouch; Erestor could not resist so blatant a temptation. He nudged one of the covered globes with his nose and then dabbed his tongue at the same spot, watching as the elegant length of the Wood Elf's cock jerked in response, thrilling to the decadent cry of pleasure that issued from Legolas' chest. He stopped and glanced up to see the wild elf propped on his elbow panting and wide eyed in salacious lust.
"This is rare treat, rediscovering everything that makes you yearn for my touch, learning each locus of desire upon your body and exploiting it." He smiled when Legolas groaned and flopped back limp upon the cushions.
"Please, no more teasing! Berenaur, I would have you…Ai!"
The seneschal had no intention of putting up with such paltry complaining and drew the warm, swollen gland into his mouth, softly swabbing it with his tongue, relishing the long low cry of anguished ecstasy this initiated. He let the slickened testicle slip from his lips and nipped at the root of the rigid column of the silvan's masculine pride.
Legolas jolted almost off the floor and lifted his head again to find Berenaur crouched between his legs so close to his cock he could feel the Noldo's breath caressing the hard organ in rapid gusts. Berenaur had a hand on either thigh and pressed down to keep the legs spread and the excited genitals fully exposed, preventing any motion from hindering his access. Not that Legolas had any wish to prevent the seneschal's actions. Another bite at the base of the florid shaft wrenched a shuddering cry from his very soul and he reached with his injured arm, trying to caress the black locks brushing tantalising tickles over his sensitised skin.
"Does that please you?" Erestor whispered and continued the tender nibbling up the engorged length. He reached the pinnacle and with the most delicate care seized the foreskin with his teeth and pulled back, glorying in the frantic shriek that erupted from his lover and the racing shivers coursing through the tense frame. He let go and looked up in time to see Legolas collapse against the cushions in gasping titillation again. "Does that please you?" Erestor reiterated, closing his lips just around the head of the archer's penis and sucking gently, sweeping his tongue repeatedly over the freely seeping orifice.
"Aye, aye," cried Legolas. "More."
But Erestor released him and sat back, gloating over the sight of Legolas displayed in full-blown, impassioned carnal craving, hair askew about his head, chest heaving in the effort to keep pace with his racing pulse, eyes gleaming with salacious anticipation and lips parted in decadent invitation. The Noldo emitted a low growl of hunger, his first audible indication of increasing lubricity, and stripped with a haste that underscored the feral instinct to claim the willing body trembling on the floor. The seneschal lunged forward on hands and knees, settling between the splayed limbs, covering the silvan, working his eager organ in rapid thrusting friction against the turgid warmth of the archer's solid shaft. He lapped at a scarlet nipple, biting all around it, chuckling smugly over the shout of pleasure Legolas loosed, before turning to make its twin equally hard and ripe.
The tight cotton binding barred him from partaking of that delicacy and he frowned, stilling his movements and bearing his weight one-armed while prying the concealing strips of fabric upward with the freed hand. The dark red node emerged, popping up in beguiling enticement, and Erestor tested it with his teeth.
"Berenaur!"
Legolas called his lover's name and arched into the contact, not caring that he was reduced to presenting so wanton an offering as long as Berenaur would continue. He laced his fingers through the inky strands and found and ear, followed the outer rim up to the pointed tip and teased it with toying tugs.
Erestor responded by clamping down and sucking hard enough to leave the small peak throbbing and sore when he released it. He blew across the bruise and gently licked the nipple, concurrently lapping up every soft achy moan his lover uttered, such sweet sounds of erotic agony.
The Noldo sat back on his knees and settled his possessive gaze upon the vermilion mouth once more. He could hear the silvan's breath escaping there in soft gusts of prurient need and he shuddered, imaging that hot light breeze upon his ardent cock. Then Legolas' swallowed and slipped his tongue out, wetting the lower lip and raising the rich colour higher. The ruby oral muscle retreated, a beckoning flicker of motion, and Erestor scooted up and over the Wood Elf, one long leg draped over the archer's chest, the other bent beneath him as he squatted before the fair featured face and presented his penis, holding it out, pointing it right at that dark torrid fissure, and watched in fascination as it parted to receive him.
The Noldo plunged in with a low groan of exaltation, pumping in short quick jerks against the massaging tongue and the inexorable suction, one hand slipping under the golden head to support it while the other impatiently shoved aside the tangled flow of matted tresses to find and pinch the inflamed cartilage at the ear's summit.
Legolas crooned in excitement around the huge erection filling his mouth, sipping the biter-sweet juice oozing fast from the tiny opening and swallowing against the intrusion every time it pushed inside. He was eager for the gush of semen and wrapped his arm around his lover's waist to hold him fast, slowly rubbing his palm against the taut gluteus muscle in the working arse. And just when he was sure he had Berenaur on the brink the seneschal gave a hoarse cry and yanked his long organ out completely. Legolas stared into his mate's eyes in concerned surprise, worried he had done some harm but not able to recall letting his teeth more than faintly raze the ruddy flesh.
"Nay, nay," huffed Erestor trying to compose himself and reassure his lover both. "Not that way, not yet anyway."
He crawled back over the prone form until he was back in the crux of the archer's legs and took firm hold of the neglected rod of primed and pent desire. He slowly stroked its length and smiled at the reflexive thrust of Legolas' hips, so strong that he felt the shifting balls under his hand and the soft dampness caught in the flaxen curls surrounding them. Another controlled, squeezing pump and Legolas' head arched back, exposing his throat as he strained to increase the pressure and trigger his release. Erestor let go and leaned up to softly kiss the dark wine-coloured weal he had left on the creamy neck at their last coupling, smiling and proud, as Legolas wailed a frustrated complaint over the loss of the gripping contact. He kissed his way up to the jaw and then to the ear lobe, breathing a sigh against the smooth skin just behind it.
Legolas shuddered from crown to toes and feared he would come just like that.
"Soon," the whispered promise met his hearing and he turned to meet his lover's complacent gaze with an expression indicative of glorious torment. He was rewarded with a quick kiss on the lips and then Berenaur was gone again, back down between his legs. Legolas spread them wider hoping to encourage further stimulation and heard a snicker of amused lechery.
"You wanton, wild thing," this barely audible christening was accompanied by Erestor's manipulation of the silvan's left limb and right hip. Cautiously he folded the leg over and up toward Legolas' chest, gently turning him to the side from the waist down, making the small ingress between his buttocks accessible.
"Oh, aye; I am ready, please," Legolas panted out excitedly.
"Shhh. I shall take my time and take you when I am ready," admonished the Noldo. He had not thought to place a vial of oil conveniently available on the low table but Erestor was nothing if not resourceful. The unfinished goblet of miruvor rested there and the seneschal dipped his fingers in it, coating them up to the knuckles. "This will be a bit cold at first," he warned and pushed in the first digit.
"Elbereth!" Legolas jerked as the icy liquid smeared across the interior muscle, cooling the initial burn of penetration. He relaxed and let his eyes drift half-closed as the Noldo explored. The moving fingertip soothed across the worst of the inner ridges of dense scar tissue and lingered there, rubbing over it several times. Legolas opened his eyes and looked for Berenaur's, flinching at the grief and confusion in them.
"Tell me this was not my doing," the seneschal could barely give air to form the words, fearful of what the reply would be. Mayhap this was why his mind was so reluctant to divulge all the memories the two shared. He felt sick to think he would hurt Legolas so cruelly and swallowed hard to keep the bile down.
"Nay!" Legolas propped himself up and gently stroked the cheek of the stricken face before him, deeply moved by the desperate plea. "You have never hurt me, never. Only joy and delight have we known together; be at peace."
Erestor exhaled deeply and resumed his finger's work, holding Legolas' gaze as he inserted a second one and groped for the small rise of flesh marking the location of the deeply hidden prostate. He encountered more healed tears and carefully manoeuvred to stretch the passage in these areas. A slight shift in position and pressure yielded a loud shout of delight and an instinctive push back from Legolas; he had found the spot he was searching for and grinned, pressing on it mercilessly.
"Berenaur! Please!" Legolas dropped back on the pillows and clutched a handful of the Noldo's hair, writhing against the incessant thrills racing like quicksilver to the peak of his penis. Even so, he moaned in needy appeal as the fingers retreated and left him empty. Berenaur was looming over him again, an arm to either side of him, bending low to steal a kiss, and the blunt head of his cock brushed against the deserted opening.
Erestor took Legolas' lips again, inserting his tongue deeply into the sweltering mouth, and forced his aching organ past the silvan's rectal ring of guarding muscles. The advisor's lung emptying moan of intense satisfaction was matched by Legolas' shrill exhalation. Erestor stilled and broke the seal between their lips.
"Does this please you?" he panted out and thrust in deeper.
"Aye!" Legolas nearly shrieked, wide eyed and breathless as the engorged penis spread and filled him. He reached for his bended knee and pulled it higher, closer, anticipating another forceful push. Berenaur did not disappoint him, shoving determinedly as he gave out a guttural croaking grunt of pleasure. "More," was all Legolas could manage.
It was sufficient. Erestor could not have maintained a sedate pace even had he wished it. He pulled out and pierced his lover anew, plunging in and out, lunging against the tight friction so forcefully that their conjoined bodies slid forward across the pillows. Indeed, he did not even try to check his rampaging desire to fuck the Wood Elf hard, fast, and as deep as he could cram his cock up the constricting passage of rippling, heated flesh. What he needed was to spill inside his lover and claim this indescribably erotic creature for his own, using his seed to soothe the disfigured interior and heal the fragile soul completely. He was not even aware of shouting Pen-rhovan's name between the frantic kisses he snatched from the wild elf's panting open lips, plastered over the upturned, sweat-sheened cheeks, peppered upon the shut and shrivelley eyelids.
Legolas felt he must either explode or expire from such exquisite fulfilment, rocking into every thrust and angling his arse to aid his lover's eager cock find its mark. Berenaur was near madness, reason abandoned to the sensational thrill and the mounting heat, fucking him as if he meant to bruise him beyond the ability to either stand or sit, and this raised Legolas' desire exponentially, pushing him closer to ecstatic delirium. It was incredible to be taken thus, rough to the point of pain but no further, wild to the point of frenzied incomprehension, just as he liked it. He felt gloriously powerful and simultaneously subdued in gentle gratitude, knowing the fuel of the force not a selfish need to humiliate and subjugate him but rather an intensely burning love, a driving need to seal their souls together anew. But it was the shouted, exuberant, blissful and awe-struck calling of the name that he knew would do him in sooner than he might wish. He was going to come without any need to touch his board-stiff erection even once.
"Ai Berenaur!" he cried and arched into the spiralling jets of his orgasm, smooth intestinal muscles clenching in rolling spasms around the fat intrusion relentlessly driving against his arse.
"Valar!" Erestor's strangled gasp escaped him as the first spurt of semen left the sensitised tip of his buried penis. He pulled back and shoved once more and gave in to the flood, roaring a deep exultant cry of fulfilment as the thick seed coated the organ and made it slip slightly deeper. "Ah, Pen-rhovan!" he cried, twitching gently as the sperm exited, almost feeling the archer's cells absorb it, mingling their essential fluids: his seed with Legolas' blood.
Too soon it was over and yet neither felt the least disappointed or deprived and found their eyes locked together in exhausted jubilation, each one grinning a completely silly smile agog with wonder and delight. They shared a slow kiss, hands caressing warm relaxed skin and tangling in hair now tinged with the sweetly salty residue of sex-induced sweat.
Erestor carefully shifted and pulled out, straightening his lover's cramped leg and quickly lapping up the smear of Legolas' seed streaked across the thigh and down the calf. He chuckled, sniffing out more of the pungent fluid where it clung to his lover's stomach and ribs, licking and inhaling nearly simultaneously as if he could not decide whether he preferred to taste the creamy residue or enjoy the tangy aroma. He found a glob over a known ticklish spot on the archer's left side and delighted in the sharp spasm and involuntary laugh his tongue coaxed from Legolas' lungs. At last he had the wild elf all cleaned up and stretched out in boneless complacency by his side, smiling into eyes still starry with euphoria as he demanded another kiss, sharing the flavour he loved beyond any other.
"Ah, I remember this," he sighed as their lips parted. "I remember you now, Tawarwaith. You are mine, Legolas, and mine alone. How I love you, Pen-rhovan." He gathered Legolas close, mindful of the injured shoulder, and exhaled in supreme contentment to feel lips press upon his chest as the wild elf snuggled into his hold.
TBC.