This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*

Authors’ Note: This chapter is dedicated with love and gratitude to Maya, my darling friend, and an artist of unbelievable talent. Without his valuable advice and information, I couldn’t have written it. If you want to see art unlike any you’ve seen before, please visit his livejournal at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/mathia/ and at Bone Fauna’s livejournal, where you can also read her wonderful fics: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/

This is also dedicated to everyone who reads my stories, with sincerest apologies for the long delay. I love each and every one of you; thank you!


CHAPTER 15


“We now know who it was that Isalith danced for last night,” Belorfilad said in a barely audible voice. The stunned tone of his words caused Uriong to turn to him quickly, where the two captains crouched behind a group of bushes almost thirty feet from where the Princes lay sleeping beside the brook, entwined in each other’s arms.

Uriong studied the beautiful face of his lover, unable to interpret the odd emotion in his azure eyes.

“What are you thinking, Belor?” he asked quietly. “Does this discovery offend you?”

Belorfilad turned to him sharply. “Offend me?” he asked, incredulous. “Nay! I only marvel at mn lan lack of discernment. That I did not see this coming, seems impossible to fathom, but ….. nay, I feel nothing but joy for my Prince, at this moment. He has ached for this, for many years. That it was Isalith who won his heart, is more than I could have wished for him. And you? What are your feelings?”

He reached out to gently brush back a strand of midnight hair from his lover’s brow. Uriong smiled at the almost subconscious gesture, and captured Belorfilad’s hand in his own, turning it to place a soft kiss on the palm.

“The same as you,” he smiled. “You must know that I love Legolas; Prince Isalith has blossomed wondrously as a result of his friendship, and I would see him with no one else. The bigger question is,” and he raised one eyebrow, as a note of amusement crept into his voice, “how will our Kings and Queens receive the news?”

Still keeping his voice very low, Belorfilad chuckled softly. “I only thank Eru that ‘tis not up to either of us to give it to them.” He grew reflective suddenly, his eyes scanning every inch of Uriong’s golden face. “If only my parents could have met you before sailing west. They would love you, as I do.”

Uriong smiled sadly. “As I am certain that I would love the ada and naneth who reared such a good and noble son. My own were taken from me in the Battle of Dagorlad. It would have been my honor to present you to them.” He quickly blinked back tears and lowered his head in sorrow.

Belorfilad’s heart constricted in his chest in empathy, as he wound one arm around the shoulders of his beloved, and held his face in the other hand, whispering, “I will be your family, Uri, melethron. You are alone no longer.”

A dazzling smile lit the face of the raven-haired warrior and he kissed his lover sweetly, tenderly, before drawing back to look invitingly into his eyes.

“Is there not something more constructive we could do with tim time, aside from spying on these two whelps?” he quipped.

Belorfilad stood quickly, and clasped Uriong’s hand, drawing him up also. As he pulled his lover behind him, he grinned over his shoulder, “Something is sure to come to me, before we reach your quarters.”

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The two Princes knew already that they would tell their families about the love they had discovered; they would have it no other way. Neither of them wished to keep secrets from their loved ones, and it was decided that they would first speak with King Tyrion and Queen Anylinde, and that Isalith would journey back to Mirkwood when it was time for Legolas’ return, to stand by his beloved’s side when the confession was made. They discussed it between themselves in depth, both oem aem a little apprehensive about the reactions the news would elicit. Being the only male offspring of Kings, could prove to be a thorny obstacle for them in regards to the futures of their respective kingdoms. But they could not keep their love secret forever, nor did they wish to.

It was with tremendous relief then, that Legolas and Isalith witnessed the rapturous reaction of the King and Queen of Ilandros, upon hearing that their son had fallen deeply in love with his childhood friend. Legolas had long suspected that the Ilandrians were of a slightly more liberal mind than other Elves, and although his ada and naneth were certainly never priggish, he could not help but think that their response to the situation would not be quite as breezy and untroubled.

“Going somewhere?” Isalith asked cheekily, later thaght,ght, after Legolas had kissed him soundly outside their bedchambers and made to enter his own room alone. He paused, his hand on the door, and looked questioningly at his lover.

“I thought we were turning in for the night.”

“Is my bed not good enough for you?” the raven-haired Prince grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

Taken by surprise, Legolas blinked rapidly. “I …..” he hesitated.

Isalith straightened suddenly, as a thought occurred to him. “Unless, of course, you want your privacy,” he added seriously.

Now the Prince of Mirkwood grinned, as he sidled up to Isalith seductively. Tilting back his blonde head, he whispered into his ear, “Of *course* I do not want my privacy. What I want, beloved, is to feel your body next to mine, each and every night.”

He drew back a little and took Isalith’s face between his hands. His crystal blue eyes glowed in the light of the torches along the walls, and an alluringly impish smile curved his lips.

“You will regret inviting me into your bed, son of Tyrion,” he promised. “You shall find *very* little rest.”

Isalith only smiled contentedly, as he was gently but firmly ushered through the door.

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The remaining days of Legolaisitisit to Ilandros passed quickly. In spite of his slight trepidation at the impending “talk” that he and Isalith would need to have with hisher her and father, he found that mostly he longed to be with them again. And Hania. He had prayed for her every night; that she would adjust to his absence quickly and find comfort in the exclusive company of their parents. However, he felt the tiniest twinge of shame one night, when he realized that he did not really *want* his sweet sister to become accustomed to being without him. It actually felt quite wonderful, to be so needed, and the thought of little Hania growing into an independent adult saddened him slightly. Still, he would always want only what was best for her, and if that meant that he would have to distance himself a little, so be it.

Now, on the day before his departure for Mirkwood, Legolas wandered the vast halls and main rooms of the Ilandrian palace, memorizing as many details as he could. It would be quite a while before his next visit, and although Isalith would be staying in Mirkwood for a time, Legolas would miss this beautiful, magical kingdom.

He gazed around at the walls, covered with rich, exquisitely detailed tapestries; and at the plush, opulent furniture, garbed in sensuous silks and rich brocades. He smiled as his eyes fell on the large, luxurious pillows that were strewn about the rooms; they were used often during social gatherings, and were a symbol of the warm and easy company of the Elves of Ilandros.

Yes, he would sorely miss this place; sighing, he looked around one last time before turning toward the dining hall, where he would share the last meal of his visit, with his second family.

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Uriong lay on his side in bed, his head propped up on one hand as he lovingly watched Beload sad sleeping serenely. The Captain of Mirkwood, in repose, presented the most beautiful image his eyes had ever beheld, Uriong thought.

He slept with one arm bent behind his head, his soft lips parted slightly. The moonlight, as it spilled over the window sill and flooded the room, had transformed his hair to liquid silver that flowed across the pillows. One leg lay on its side, bent at the knee, opening wel well-muscled thighs and the treasure between them, to Uriong’s hungry gaze.

*I shall never tire of you, calad nin, and I bless the day that Eru set my feet upon the path that led me to your homeland.* Uriong smiled when his lover’s lips began to move silently; always, when he was exhausted and sleeping, Belorfilad would form words without sound. And Uriong had seen to it that the blonde Elf was utterly exhausted, sated, and contented, before sending him home in the morning.

Yet, in spite of several hours of powerful lovemaking, Uriong still wanted more of his beloved. When his eyes shifted downward, he saw that Belorfilad had grown hard in his sleep. It was all the encouragement he needed.

Shifting closer to his lover, Uriong whispered into his exposed ear, “Are you having sweet dreams, dearest?” Then he slowly drew his tongue from the curve of his earlobe to the elegantly pointed tip. Belorfilad shifted slightly, his chest rising and falling a little more rapidly now.

The raven-haired Elf smiled and dipped his head to lave and gently suck the sensitive, velvety skin on the side of his lover’s neck, as he lightly brushed the pad of his thumb back and forth across Belorfilad’s nipple.

The long, well-shaped legs of the Mirkwood Captain began to move restlessly, his heels digging into the bed. His breathing was now audible, and Uriong intensified his ministrations. After several moments, he glanced down to see glistening liquid seep from the head of Belorfilad’s mouth-watering erection, as it weptely.ely. *Ah, good.* He himself was in such a state of excitement, that he could feel the fluid trickling from his own arousal, and coursing slowly down its length. But he would need more.

Uriong positioned himself on hands and knees above his lover, his head level with Belorfilad’s hips. Silky midnight tresses cascaded down to lightly brush the blonde Elf’s thighs, creating a sensation that he always loved, one that set him gasping and serinering. Tonight was no exception, and as Uriong gently swayed his head back and forth, swinging the tips of his haiross oss Belorfilad’s heated skin, he raised his knees and spread his legs, impatient for more of the exquisite feeling.

Uriong watched his lover’s face closely, and the way he clutched the pillow behind his head with both hands, as his fair brows drew together and he gently bit his lower lip. He was beginning to awaken now, rising slowly through the gauzy layers of sleep, and Uriong moved quickly to lie facing him.

“Roll onto your sibelobeloved,” he whispered, and Belorfilad obediently did so, unconsciously straining his hips toward Uriong, seeking more contact. The Ilandrian warrior shifted his own hips closer also, until the heads of their erections touched. Both Elves hissed in pleasure.

Uriong grasped his own length and slowly worked the foreskin forward, until it encased the two aching crowns. He then began to glide the silken head of his arousal over and around his lover’s, aided by the liquid that flowed from them, mingling together. Belorfilad was almost fully awake now, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly as a groan began to rumble deep in his throat. He awoke with a start, convulsively clutching his lover’s shoulder with one hand, as the other hand wrapped around Uriong’s.

“Uri!” the blonde Elf gasped. The wet friction was quickly driving him toward a shattering climax, one that he frantically needed, but gods, he did not want this to end! With each passing, the slits of their erections met, kissed, and parted again, over and over, until Belorfilad panted and trembled. He felt so close to Uriong right now, so connected to him, that it took his breath away. Gods, nothing should feel this wonderful, he thought deliriously. And then all thought fled, as his lover increased the tempo of his movements, and the blonde Elf felt the tight tingling at the base of his spine, that signaled his imminent orgasm.

Belorfilad’s legs went rigid, and he clenched his teeth hard, as the first hot gush of his seed shot from him. Uriong followed immediately afterward, and the succulence of their combined semen intensified their climaxes even further. Gradually, the waves of bliss subsided, and the two Captains lay gasping for breath, gazing at each other in amazement at what had just taken place.

Belorfilad rolled onto his back, pulling Uriong close, to lie on his heaving chest. They enfolded each other in loving arms, as their heartbeats and breathing returned to normal.

After several moments, the blonde Captain chuckled softly, “That was quite a surprise.”

Above him, Uriong smiled weakly. “A little something to remember me by,” he answered. Already, sleep began to overcome him, and he nestled closer to his beloved.

Belorfilad’s arms tightened around his lover. “As if that were necessary,” he gently chided, as he, too, felt a tremendous weariness wash over him. “My clever Uriong,” he murmured.

And he slipped bacto dto deep sleep.


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melethron: beloved

calad nin: my light