Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate

Chapter XII: Avowal

Imrahil raced all the way to the falls, his heart pounding not from exertion but from nervousness and worry.



He slowed down when he came to the Bruinen and began to walk along its banks as he neared the cascades. The roar of the tumbling falls matched the cacophony in his head. What to say? What to expect?



He hesitated when he saw the huddled figure beneath the graceful willow closest to the cascades. Elladan sat with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped tightly around them. His chin rested on his knees and he stared unseeingly at the rushing curtain of water. He looked like an Elfling who’d been forsaken by his parents. Lost and dazed and defeated.



Imrahil silently approached him. Still Elladan did not notice him; not even when he knelt by the warrior’s side. He gently clasped the other’s shoulder, compelling him to turn his head and look at him.



Elladan started upon seeing Imrahil. He half turned and reached out his hand. And then he saw that the man was clad for journeying. He paled then lowered his eyes sorrowfully.



“You came to say goodbye,” he whispered.



Imrahil looked wonderingly at the Elf-lord. Never had he seen Elladan so vulnerable. He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against the Elf’s. Elladan stared at him, startled.



“Only if you do not want me,” Imrahil said softly. For a moment, Elladan could only look at him in shock. “What Elrohir told me – I pray ‘tis true.”



In the next instant, Imrahil was caught in an embrace so snug he found himself quite robbed of proper breath. He closed his eyes when Elladan buried his face in the crook of his neck and folded his own arms around the Elf.



“Forgive me,” Elladan repeated over and over again, his voice muffled against the man’s skin. “Please forgive me.”



Imrahil tightened his hold on the trembling Elf. “Always,” he murmured. “And I would love you if you would have me,” he added somewhat uncertainly.



Elladan raised his head to gaze at him through oddly brightened eyes. A hand snaked up behind the prince’s neck and he was pulled into a kiss so fervent he wondered if he would ever know serenity of body again. If any doubts lingered as to what the Elvenlord truly felt for him, they were swiftly wiped away by the flood of thoughts that seared through his mind.



I love you. While I have life and breath I will always love you. My prince, my heart, my treasure.



Taken unawares by such an outpouring of heartfelt thought, thoroughly overcome, Imrahil felt tears trickle down his face for the second time that day. But he did not fight to dam them. He did not attempt to comport himself as a prince or warrior. In this very moment, he was neither and frankly he did not care. Something of far more import occupied him.



He was not only Elladan’s lover; he was his love.



When Elladan released him, he realized the Elf had shed tears, too. He raised his hand to stroke the streaked cheeks with his fingers. Elladan turned his face into his hand, held it fast with his own and pressed warm lips against the prince’s palm. Imrahil shivered with delight at the affectionate caress. Impulsively, he drew Elladan into his embrace.



For the longest while, they remained thus, secure in each other’s arms, Elladan for the first time leaning against Imrahil for strength and succor. Only the sound of the falls and the river and an occasional bird trill broke the silence.



The man looked down at the Elf with searching eyes. His head lying against Imrahil’s shoulder, Elladan had closed his eyes and he looked like the innocent he had not been for countless years. Imrahil realized all over again how beautiful the Elven warrior was not only of countenance and form but also of heart and spirit. Whatever wrong Elladan may have done him or any other in his life, Imrahil knew instinctively that it was not out of any malice or native evil. Fear, pride, lust – they’d all played a part in the Elf’s decisions. But never the deliberate urge to hurt or debase.



He pressed his lips to the raven hair, marveling as always at the natural fragrance that clung to the Elf; wondering as usual what the other had seen in him that he should have wanted him. And thankful that he did and had come for him. Elladan had lifted him out of the abyss of his grief when Aerin died and taught him however unwittingly that there was always room for another love in his heart.



“Elladan?” he said at length, curiosity getting the better of him. “Why did you favor my line?”



Elladan drew slightly out of his embrace to look at him. “I told you once that I preferred lovers possessed of more earthy qualities. But ‘tis a thing rare amongst Elves. And a more common trait in your race.” He smiled slightly when Imrahil’s eyes widened in sudden cognizance of this fact. “‘Twas not a problem with women but men were another matter completely. Only men of elven heritage could possibly understand such a desire or even feel it. Unfortunately, there are only two families in Middle-earth that bear the blood.”



Imrahil understood. “Elessar’s and mine,” he remarked. He looked quizzically at the Elf. “Did you—? That is, amongst the king’s forefathers.”



Elladan nodded. “A few until they came under my father’s guardianship. I did not touch them then for they became as brothers to me. As for your family: I met Galador many years after he founded Dol Amroth. He was grieving, having outlived his wife and all his children but one. His eldest proved as long-lived as he and so survived all his siblings.”



“You comforted him as you comforted me.”



“Aye.”



“Did you love him?”



“Nay. Nor did he love me. We came together simply for the pleasure of it.”



Imrahil looked at the rushing waters before them for a spell. “Celeborn’s words were not untrue, were they?” he said quietly. “You did not want more from me than a brief affair.”



Elladan sighed. “I will not deny that,” he said. “I loved none of the mortals I took as lovers, man or woman. I distanced myself as soon as I felt the first stirrings of anything deeper than affection. I did not wish to risk loving anyone who would eventually leave me forever.” He looked at Imrahil regretfully. “Including you.”



Imrahil’s eyes clouded. “Then I did you a disservice by coming here.”



Elladan pulled him back into his arms. “Nay, I lost my heart to you long ere I claimed you,” he murmured, scattering kisses on the man’s face until Imrahil closed his eyes in shivering bliss. He drew back slightly to stroke the prince’s jaw. “Else do you think I would have sought you out after ten years?”



Imrahil stared at him in surprise. “Then all that time in Ithilien—” He broke off and shook his head ruefully. “You certainly hid your feelings well.”



“And I am sorry I did,” Elladan murmured. “But I did not want to admit that I loved you even to myself. I fought it.”



“So Elrohir told me,” Imrahil said. “I understand now why you acted as you did when I arrived.”



Elladan chuckled pensively. “Elrohir was very displeased with me and Legolas even more so,” he admitted. “My brother knew why I shied from you but his regard for you is such that he reproached me soon after you settled in your room.”



“Then if he had not, you would not have come to me that night?” Imrahil asked, his voice tinged with hurt.



Elladan bit his lip then shook his head. “I was afraid of what being with you would do to me,” he said honestly. “Then Elrohir told me of your disappointment...” The twin sighed. “I was too overwrought to notice your reaction to my lack of warmth but when I learned of it I could not stay away.” He looked at Imrahil pleadingly. “I never intended to hurt you, Imrahil. I hope you believe me.”



Imrahil gazed into the guilt-darkened eyes of his lover. “I do believe you,” he softly said. And then he quietly added: “I love you, Elladan. I cannot offer you eternity but what time I have is yours.”



Elladan lifted shining eyes to meet his. “‘Tis so much more than I deserve,” he said with a smile. “I will cherish you always, Imrahil nîn.”— my Imrahil.



Imrahil caught his breath at the sight. The softness of the Elf’s smile and the light in his eyes suffused his features with a luminosity that was breathtaking to behold. And too enticing to withstand. Imrahil looked away in an effort to stem the sudden desire that overcame him. But he was defeated when Elladan cupped his chin and made him face him once again. The Elf looked at him questioningly, a trace of concern in his wondrous pewter eyes.



Imrahil lost all sense of restraint and leaning forward caught the other in a hungry kiss. It occurred to him that he had never done this before. Always, even when near bursting with need, he had waited on Elladan’s initiative. But then he had not been certain of where he stood with the Elf.



Elladan was undoubtedly startled by his peremptory overture but the warrior did not resist and opened himself instead to the prince’s invasion. That stoked Imrahil’s passion further. He’d always been aware that the Elf tasted sweet but the opportunity to know the extent of that sweetness had been denied him until now. To be in the position of pillager and of such bountiful beauty and allure was intoxicating to say the least.



By the time their mouths parted both were breathing heavily and aching for far more intimacy than a kiss. Seeing the lust in the Elf’s eyes, Imrahil reached for the ties on his shirt and began to undo them. The grey pools widened slightly at his boldness but Elladan did not move to stop him. Though somewhat amazed at his own audacity, Imrahil refused to retreat and set to work on Elladan’s breech-laces next.



The Elf grinned rakishly. “You seem unconcerned that someone might come upon us,” he remarked.



Imrahil snorted. “I imagine Elrohir will have warned everyone away from here by now,” he pointed out. “Or am I wrong about your brother?”



Elladan shook his head with a chuckle. He lifted his hips as Imrahil drew his breeches down, pulling his boots off in the same motion. The prince stared at the Elf, struck mute by the sheer comeliness of his bared form.



“You look at me as if you have never seen me thus before,” Elladan said, his voice hushed as he noted the man’s rapt expression.



Imrahil’s glittered perilously. “I have not,” he finally said.



Again the Elf’s eyes widened. And then they softened as Elladan comprehended what he meant.



In all their couplings, the Elf had always led, always dominated. There was a world of difference between the love-act of a teacher and his student and two who were equals. Imrahil was looking at him with new eyes. The eyes not of a hesitant initiate but a covetous bedmate.



A moment later he was pinned against the tree as Imrahil captured him anew in a slew of ravaging kisses while his hands brazenly mapped his body. That the man remained fully clad added a piquancy that only served to fuel his excitement further.



The plundering lips wandered downwards to his now peaked nipples, drawing on them with mingled craving and curiosity. He caught his breath when the prince gently but inexorably forced him to lie back on the grass-carpeted ground. Their eyes met for one instant before Imrahil lowered his head to continue his descending exploration. The first time for either of them.



Imrahil proved as inquisitive as the proverbial cat, every tentative stroke and lick and answering groan and gasp a point of learning for him as he sought to know his lover’s body at last. And the active pleasuring of it.



Which was something altogether new for the mortal prince. To give pleasure by willingly allowing liberties with one’s self was very different from taking those same liberties with someone else. He had never worshipped another man’s body in carnal play before, even less an Elf’s. But then again, an Elf’s body was in no way to be compared to a man’s, he thought as he continued with his exploration.



No man possessed skin as sleek and pale or flesh as sweet and supple as this. Or a form as lean yet patently masculine. Or a scent that defied description save that it was maddening enough to turn even the most prudent of men insane with lust. He eyed the Elf’s proud member. Or a shaft that one wanted to claim as one’s own even when one had never dreamed of doing so before.



Elladan’s hoarse cry was all the encouragement he needed though the taste of him certainly provided added impetus. Imrahil vaguely wondered what his sons would think if they ever learned of his newfound predilection. Not that he really cared. Not when he had just discovered what a pleasure it was to suckle the flesh of so exquisite a being while said being writhed in heavenly splendor beneath him. He felt the telltale pulsing that portended the Elf’s completion.



“Imrahil!” Elladan cried out warningly.



He did not pull away but determinedly caught the Elf’s seed in his mouth. Every gorgeous drop of it. Even this taste of Elladan was precious to him and he wanted to know it well. He did not regret it.



When Elladan finally quieted, Imrahil raised his head, swallowing the creamy essence as he did. He looked at Elladan in elation. The Elf stared back at him, panting shallowly in the wake of such edacious milking. A slight gesture and Imrahil obligingly came up beside him. Elladan reached up and wiped a glistening drop from the man’s lower lip with his finger. Imrahil caught the finger between his lips and sucked it clean. Elladan’s eyes gazed at him in wonderment.



“You are not repulsed,” he softly commented.



Imrahil shook his head. “You taste sweet,” he bluntly replied.



Elladan drew in a sharp breath. “You are truly a marvel, Imrahil,” he murmured. He curled an arm around the man and, with one fluid twist of their bodies, had him on his back in turn. “Now for your pleasure,” he whispered.



Even several layers of traveling raiment did not stand a chance against the agile elven fingers. In far less time than it had taken for him to don them, Imrahil found himself bereft of his clothing. Elladan leaned down and kissed him until he was aching with terrible need. He groaned against the Elf’s mouth as he felt the latter’s hand fold around his turgid shaft and caress it to its hardest.



Elladan drew away and, straddling him, did as he had done those many years ago in Ithilien, stroking their slick lengths together until they were both gasping helplessly. And then the Elf stopped and deliberately wiping the copious seed from the tips of their shafts, smoothed it down Imrahil’s to completely coat it. Imrahil stared in disbelief. Surely his lover did not mean to...?



His breath hitched when Elladan levered himself into the position that would permit him to sheath the prince. Imrahil caught at his knee and tried to stop him.



“Elladan, you need not do this,” he said urgently. “This discomforts you and—”



Elladan shook his head. “Hush, this had nothing to do with any low regard you thought I harbored toward you,” he murmured. “I have yielded to only a few in all my years even amongst my kindred.”



“But your response when you thought that I sought to take you—” Imrahil began.



“I panicked,” the Elf-lord confessed. “To yield to you would have forced me to accept the truth that I was yours. I needed to deny it even to myself. But I will deny it no longer, Imrahil.” Forestalling any further protestations from the prince, he slowly lowered himself upon Imrahil’s length.



Imrahil gasped as he was tightly gloved in heated satin. His breath came in short spurts as he struggled to keep from coming to release too soon. Not that Elladan made it easy when he started to move sensuously up and down the highly sensitized column. Sensation after breath-stealing sensation wracked his body until there was nothing but sheer rapture to anchor himself upon. Imrahil reached for the Elf’s thighs and gripped them hard enough to leave reddened marks on the pale skin.



“Elladan!” he groaned. “I cannot take much more of this!”



“Do not fight it then,” Elladan whispered raspingly. “Find your pleasure, seron vell.”—beloved. “Fill me as you will!”



A glimmer of lucidity still lurked in the reaches of Imrahil’s consciousness. Recalling how the Elf had oft ensured his pleasure when he’d taken him, he grasped Elladan’s length as it nosed up against his belly and began to stroke it as best as he could. Elladan moaned and gazed at him with eyes so dark they were almost like coal. His movements quickened, taking the man as deeply as he could. It precipitated Imrahil’s undoing.



With a ragged cry, the prince bucked up against his Elven lover and spilled himself for the first time within Elladan’s welcoming warmth. His eyes widened as the Elf’s muscles tightened around him, draining him of his seed and prolonging his pleasure.



He stared at Elladan and thought he had never seen the Elf so beautiful as he was in the throes of his own completion. Head thrown back, fair skin flushed, raven hair streaming down his back, spectacularly lost in utter rapture.



He hugged Elladan to himself as the Elf collapsed atop him. It seemed like ages before he made sense of his surroundings once more. Meanwhile, he waited for his heart to return to its normal pace. He idly ran his hand through the silken sheath of the Elf’s sable tresses, unable to do more for now than wordlessly press kisses to the other’s smooth temple.



At length, Elladan lifted his head and met his lips in the most tender of caresses. The grey eyes glowed with more emotion than Imrahil had ever thought possible for any sentient creature. An Elf’s love, he thought with a lump in his throat.



Deeper than a bottomless ocean. Greater than the highest mountain. Eternal as time itself.



And Elladan had gifted him with his.