Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate

Chapter XIV: Visitations

Dol Amroth, Cerveth FA 33

No matter what view one chose to regard from the ramparts of the great castle of Dol Amroth, it was an exhilarating one. From the seaward side, one could admire the primal beauty of the long strands of beaches, some rocky and pounded by the roaring surf, others sandy and serene and lapped by gentle waves. One could also watch the busy comings and goings along the roads leading to and from bustling Edhellond and view the harbor in its entirety.



From his vantage point facing the sea, Imrahil gazed at the ships that filled the ancient harbor, their wide sails rose-tinted in the burnished light of sunrise. They were as familiar and dear to him as the corridors of his castle. Since childhood, their majestic prows, towering masts and billowing sails had drawn his eyes and, later, became a part of his life as he learned the trade of a goodly number of his people. He was prince of Dol Amroth but he was also a veteran seaman of Belfalas. The sight of these ocean-bound vessels never failed to stir his heart and thrill his soul.



But this morning, something else had dared to curtail his enthusiasm for them. Dared and succeeded as it had for the whole of the past week or so. After only a few minutes, he walked to the northward portion of the ramparts to look upon the roads that led to the castle itself. And as his eyes searched the incoming byways, he reached beneath his tunic and clasped the mithril locket that hung from his neck, all the while restlessly waiting and seeking. Because of the letter.



The missive arrived more than a month ago. Coming from the distant north, written in a strong, flowing hand and worded in Sindarin, it had tenderly voiced love and humor and broached news from far away. But two sentences riveted Imrahil at once and now daily drew him out onto the ramparts, sometimes up to three times in a single day.



Look to the north before the end of summer. I will come to you then, beloved.



It would only be Elladan’s third sojourn in Dol Amroth since their espousal. The other two were ingrained in Imrahil’s memory forever though for vastly different reasons.



The first had been conducted with proper protocol and due decorum with Elladan arriving in the port city as his king-brother’s envoy during a visit by Harad’s ambassador to Gondor. Tasked with completing the lengthy negotiations that would eventually lead to true peace with the Haradrim, Imrahil had opted to meet with the various Southron diplomats in Dol Amroth rather than have them travel to the markedly less neutral grounds of Minas Tirith. Acceding to his counsellor’s caution and prudence, Aragorn sent representatives to these meetings in his stead.



To Imrahil’s delight, the king’s last envoy before the treaty was finally ratified was the older of his Elven foster brothers. Elladan had not stayed too long. Barely a week in fact for he was expected back in Minas Tirith with a full report on the proceedings for Elessar. But it had been a blissful week nonetheless for Imrahil to have his mate in residence and in his bed for most of the nights of his visit.



The second visit some ten years ago proved just as memorable but far more deleterious to the prince’s peace of mind and body. And he would not have had it any other way.



Walking back to his chamber after a full day dealing with numerous folk seeking an audience with him, the prince had wondered not for the last time what he’d done to merit the imminent headache and soured mood his duties for the day had brought on. From serious charges of sedition or criminal acts to the most petty of quarrels and petitions, all had been presented to him with the absurd expectation of having each resolved in an instant.



Imrahil was one of the mildest-tempered princes ever to rule Belfalas but by Eru there were days when even he felt like throwing everyone in the brig and throwing away the key. This was one of those days and he came to his room cursing to himself that he must be at last feeling his age to feel so weary in body and spirit. With a fretful sigh, he opened the door and entered his chamber. And stopped in shock just past the threshold. It was a wonder he still had the wits to close the door behind him, which he hastily did and even more swiftly bolted.



Elladan looked up from the book he’d been reading and smiled a welcome at him. So calmly did he do so that one would not have thought his presence in Imrahil’s chamber the least bit unexpected. Or that he was the slightest bit perturbed by his state of dishabille. Sitting up against the carved mahogany headboard, his raven hair flowing unimpaired down his back, long legs stretched out on the dark counterpane, he was spared complete starkness only by the large, wide book that rested on his lap.



It took Imrahil several seconds to regain his speech, a condition that was not at all helped by the sudden pooling of waxing warmth in his groin.



“When did you arrive?” he finally managed to blurt out.



“A little less than an hour ago,” the Elf-lord replied.



“Why did you not have yourself announced?” Imrahil demanded, trying to keep his gaze from settling on the book and his mind from imagining what the book kept from his gaze.



Elladan shook his head. “And have your people treated to the spectacle of their prince rushing off in the middle of any proceedings?” he murmured. “I thought it would be more prudent this way.”



“Prudent!” Imrahil choked. “You nigh gave me heart failure with your – your appearance!”



A sound very much like a purr slipped out of the Elvenlord. “Are you really going to just stand there and gawk at me?” he cooed. “I imagine there are far better uses to put your tongue to than mere talk, Imrahil nîn.”—my Imrahil.



With that, he nonchalantly shut his book and laid it on the bedside table, stretching like a cat as he did so. And then he leaned back against the headboard once more and waited.



Imrahil’s clothes did not quite survive his hurried efforts to shed them. The following day gave rise to much headshaking amongst the royal seamstresses and even more speculation as to how buttons, clasps and lacings could have been torn so violently from their master’s robe, tunic, shirt and breeches.



Not that said master cared one whit when all he could think of was to bed his mate soonest and most thoroughly. Parted from Elladan for nearly three years beforehand, Imrahil virtually attacked him with all the hunger of a man recently come from a lengthy famine to a bountiful feast.



Elladan found himself pinned to the bed as a ravenous mouth and rapacious hands did their utmost on his sleek frame. The twin had found his match in his mortal mate. Once Imrahil gained the confidence of knowing himself loved and owned, all the sensuality and lustiness that had once made his name a byword amongst the ladies of Belfalas, both proper and otherwise, came to the fore. Elladan had long recognized his prince’s considerable abilities and declared himself blessed for the reaping of it.



He drew ragged breaths as his throat was nipped and sucked until its paleness was marked with bruises of the carnal kind. Groaned in bliss with the deliberate attention paid to each roseate nipple, a task Imrahil particularly relished. Arched into the questing mouth and roving hands as they moved further south of his torso.



He half chuckled, half moaned as the tender flesh where thighs joined groin was lapped then lightly bitten. He was just this side of ticklish in that area but when Imrahil employed both his tongue and teeth just so, it ceased to become a laughing matter and he was soon struggling to keep from writhing overmuch. Which became academic once Imrahil got his lips around his rigid length and began to draw upon it as if starved.



“Valar! Do you want me to die from this?” Elladan gasped.



Imrahil ceased his ministrations just long enough to glance up and grinningly say: “But at least you’ll have a smile on your face when you do.”



Elladan glared at him momentarily only to groan lingeringly as the fearsome suckling resumed. Refusing to be outdone in the pleasant chore of pleasuring his mate, he reached down and insistently pulled at the man’s shoulders.



“Turn around,” he rasped. “I would taste you, too.”



For a moment, Imrahil stared at him with widened eyes. But his surprise quickly gave way to his sense of adventure and he swiftly complied. Elladan grabbed his hips and had him straddle his face. Imrahil softly yelped as he was engulfed in the Elf’s talented mouth before he set to lavishing his own attention once more on the luscious column before him.



It turned into a race then, the most sensuous Imrahil had ever known as both strove to undo the other soonest. Imrahil thought the sensations so exquisite as to be almost unbelievable. To be steadily and headily drawn upon by Elladan even as he likewise plied his lips, tongue and mouth on the Elf’s shaft was an experience for which he would have willingly faced a Balrog, he deliriously opined.



He soon learned how much more wonderful it could get as he explosively spilled himself into Elladan’s mouth even as he milked Elladan of every creamy drop of his seed. He just barely managed to roll off the Elf afterwards, chuckling at the wickedness of their joint endeavor. He chortled even more merrily when he heard his mirth echoed by his Elven spouse.



At length, he crawled his way up to lie full-length against Elladan, pulling the withy body against his. And felt the stirrings of another arousal in his groin, brought on just by the singular scent of the Elf and the feel of his smooth skin touching his. Elladan noted the hardening of his length against his hip and grinned lazily.



“In this matter at least, you are more Elf than Man, melethron”—lover—he teased.



“If I am, ‘tis only because of the Elf in my bed,” Imrahil countered. “You are more brazen than a human whore, Elladan.”



“But sweeter you must admit,” the twin drawled.



“And softer,” Imrahil murmured against one peaked ear.



“Softer?” There was the faintest hint of umbrage in the Elf’s voice. Imrahil snickered then rested his hand on Elladan’s firm bottom.



“Aye, where it counts most,” he whispered salaciously. “On your knees, my beautiful Elf. My hunger for you is not yet appeased.”



Grey eyes suddenly dark with reciprocal lust, Elladan did not protest but fluidly rolled over and did as he was bid. Catching him by the hips, Imrahil did not give him time to steady himself before breaching him fully in one smooth thrust. The rapturous cry that wrenched from the Elf was as a Valarian rhapsody to his ears and he set himself to eliciting more like sounds from him. But he was not far behind in his own expressions of pleasure as he plunged repeatedly into Elladan. It was something he had never gotten used to or taken for granted – the sheer ecstasy of sheathing himself in the snug silken warmth of his mate’s body while the lean hips pushed back against him to take him in deeper with each thrust.



He caught the Elf’s body in his arms, urging him to straighten up and settle on his lap instead, making his impalement more acute. Elladan gasped and let his head fall back upon Imrahil’s shoulder. The man sucked hard on the flesh of his neck, leaving yet another blatant passion mark on it.



He reached around and curled his hand around Elladan’s length and began to stroke it. He felt Elladan’s hand alight on his, guiding him and urging him on. He wondered how it was possible for him to become even more aroused then realized how easy it was when blessed with an armful of passionate Elf.



Their bodies moved in fervent counterpoint, the Elf’s hips pushing down while the man bucked upwards, spurring yet another race towards completion. Their shared thoughts and feelings heightened the bliss and the elation. Forgetting everything but the Elf in his arms, Imrahil found release anew, his sobbing gasps mirrored by Elladan’s, his body trembling with the delicious tremors of a powerful and extended climax. He sighed in bliss when he felt warm cream coat his fingers as Elladan spent himself into his caressing hand.



They lay down in sated exhaustion, still joined, Imrahil holding Elladan snugly in the curve of his tall form. Elladan turned his head, a languid smile on his sinuous mouth. The sight enthralled Imrahil to the core and he hungrily supped of the Elf-lord’s lips. With a start, he dazedly noted the signs of yet another burgeoning arousal. Valar, he was far more elven in this than even Elladan had suggested!



Elladan laughed softly and gently disengaged himself from his stunned mortal. Turning, he pressed Imrahil down onto the bed and climbed astride him. The prince shook his head in disbelief as he felt the evidence of the Elf’s need brush against his thigh. Elladan grinned.



“Now ‘tis your turn to be ridden,” he growled. “And I intend to make it a long, hard ride!”



His cheeks suddenly hot and his breeches tight, Imrahil came back to the present and forcibly tried to think of other less stimulating matters. Sweet Eru, they were espoused but twenty years. He could not begin to imagine what an eternity of such rapture would do to him. I would probably pass into Mandos’ Halls before very long, he ruefully thought. Even sooner if this is what just thinking about it does to me!



At length, he realized it was time to meet with his secretary and visitors from neighboring Lebennin over a proposed trade agreement between the two fiefs. With a disappointed sigh, he headed back inside. But he delayed his meeting for several minutes when he went to check on his first great-grandchild, Alphros’ eldest-born. There were some things that took precedence even over the most pressing of matters and spending some time with his family or theirs was of the highest priority of all.



Heading for the council chamber after, he was suddenly waylaid by one of the squires. He noted the lad’s excitement, evident in his flushed cheeks and bright eyes.



“My lord, I was sent to inform you—” the youth began before choking on his words in his exhilaration.



The prince smothered the impulse to guffaw at the squire’s gracelessness. “Now what has left you in such a pother, my boy?” he inquired. “Well, come now, out with it!”



The lad blushed more deeply but prompted by Imrahil’s pointed rejoinder he hurried to deliver his message to his royal master.



“Sire, the Lord Elladan of Rivendell has just arrived!”



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Glossary:

Cerveth – Sindarin for July



To be continued...