Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond

Chapter XV: Oneness

The Hornburg, Helm’s Deep

Legolas sighed yet again as he watched the brethren maintain their places at their foster brother’s side. The twins stayed by Aragorn, conferring with him ever so often. It had been thus since the unexpected meeting by the Fords of Isen. The archer muffled an oath of sheer frustration. He had not exchanged more than formal greetings with them and certainly nothing more than a friendly clasp of the shoulders with Elrohir.



They could not behave otherwise in this land of Men. Especially a younger race of Men that had little knowledge of the histories and traditions of the Firstborn.



Amongst Aragorn’s kindred alone could they be less circumspect for even the least learned of the northern Dúnedain were cognizant enough of elven culture to turn a blind eye to their relationship even if they might not be personally comfortable with it. But the Rohirrim would be appalled were they to learn of Legolas’ long liaison with Elrond’s younger son. Now, in the midst of imminent war, was not the time to test their tolerance of practices beyond their ken.



To this end, he and the younger twin had kept apart. Had they ridden together, the temptation to speak in lovers’ tones and words, exchange ardent glances or make physical contact of far more intimacy than a comradely grip of the hand would have been too great to resist. And so they stayed beyond each other’s reach.



Legolas scowled. He understood the need for utmost discretion. But he did not have to like it.



Elrohir felt his annoyance acutely. The archer’s eyes would alight on him frequently and all but bore into his back. At other times, when he would glance over his shoulder at the prince, Legolas would capture his gaze and hold it just a fraction longer than was seemly, his mouth curving ever so slightly into a knowing smirk and his jewel eyes gleaming with another kind of menace in the dim light.



Thank Eru it was dim else who knew what these bluff-mannered men of the Mark might make of their behavior? Elrohir mused ruefully. But more troublesome than their reactions was the state of neediness that had taken hold of him under the prince’s fervent scrutiny. By Elbereth, if they did not find the opportunity to be together soonest, the Rohirrim would be treated to a display the likes of which they had probably never imagined possible!



He took to avoiding looking at Legolas lest the temptation to grab the prince and ravish him right there and then overwhelmed him. But he could not avoid the sense of being keenly regarded from behind and with an intensity that was as scalding as the molten outpourings of Orodruin. Needless to say, it did nothing to ease the strident longing in his groin.



They reached the Burg with dawn just hours away. It was decided that all should get some sleep before embarking on the toils of the coming day. Particularly the Rangers who had suffered through many days of hard riding.



Noting their weariness and their tendency toward reticence, Théoden insisted that the Dúnedain take their rest in the large chamber adjacent to the main hall. In times of peace, it was used as a private dining area whenever members of Rohan’s royal family and their guests visited the fortress. Windows lined two walls but in the long side that faced the front of the Burg, they were set in deep and narrow embrasures. A steady breeze passed through the room making it cool and airy.



Elrohir approved of the chamber. It would serve the Rangers well, not to mention two Peredhil, one Elf, a Dwarf and an all but asleep on his feet Halfling. It was not only quite comfortable, but would also afford them some solitude. This latter luxury was unquestionably welcome. He had marked how the Rohirrim constantly eyed the Rangers and Elladan and himself with a mixture of wariness and fascination. No doubt they were wondering what else could possibly come their way after having previously encountered Legolas, Gimli and the hobbits.



The brethren shed their mail and set them to one side then took out clean shirts and breeches from their packs. Best they rested in comfort; they would all but live in their armor for who knew how many days to follow. Soon after, in keeping with the tradition of the Riddermark’s rough but earnest hospitality, Théoden sent in light provenance – crusty bread, sharp cheese and nutty ale – and several basins of cool, clean water that his guests might wash off some of the dust and grime of long travel. For all his drowsiness, Merry happily tucked into his share of the meal and eagerly laved his face and arms and even his curly head. But the night was swiftly drawing to a close and the Rangers prudently did not linger over their meal and only indulged in the most cursory of wash-ups before taking to their beds.



The twins, however, would not forego the opportunity for a good wash and joined Legolas for thorough ablutions ere they retired. Giving his beard a hearty scrubbing, Gimli watched them in amazement, thinking to himself that only Elves could come close to taking a full bath with only a basin of water at their disposal, without completely stripping bare at any given time and still do it all with utmost grace, speed and tidiness, scarcely a drop of water spilling to the stone floor. A glance at Merry told him he was not the only one rendered astonished. The hobbit paused in his washing to gape at their elven companions.



Refreshed, the three had just laid down their beds beside Gimli and Merry’s pallets when a gesture from Aragorn caught the brethren’s attention. They followed their foster brother into the narrow corridor that separated the chamber from the hall. Halbarad soon joined them as well.



They spoke quietly, only their expressions giving a hint as to the object of their discussion. That it was of a serious, perhaps perilous nature was clearly apparent. The brethren were seen to frown and shake their heads in worry for their mortal kinsman. Nevertheless, it was also obvious that they were ready to defer to his wishes.



At length, Elrohir said, “‘Tis not to our liking but you know your own strength, Estel. If you feel that ‘tis imperative for you to use the palantír, we will not oppose your will in this.”



“But ‘twill not be wise for Elrohir and me to accompany you,” Elladan cautioned. “If Saruman used this stone to communicate with the Dark Lord, it may betray our identities to him ere you are ready to reveal yours and challenge him.”



“Then Halbarad will come with me,” Aragorn decided.



The twins nodded in acquiescence. Elladan clapped a hand on Halbarad’s shoulder. “Do not leave his side, gwador”—sworn brother —he murmured. “Not even for a moment must he be left alone in this endeavor.”



Halbarad vowed: “I will stay fast by him.”



The brethren watched the two men walk down the hallway before re-entering the chamber. It was darkened now and illuminated only by moon glow and starlight. While Elladan sought his pallet, Elrohir found himself restless. And wondering where Legolas had taken himself. The Wood-elf was nowhere to be seen.



Guessing that perhaps the archer had slipped outside for a spell, he thought to peer out a window along the front wall and see if Legolas was in the vicinity.



He was just about to slip into one of embrasures when he was startled by a softly hissed: “Elrohir!”



Surprised he stepped back and looked behind and about him. Naught but Rangers in repose or readying themselves for it were to be seen. Whence had Legolas called to him?



Shaking his head in bewilderment, he moved toward the embrasure once more. I must have imagined it, he thought.



“Elrohir!”



The warrior stiffened in shock. Loud enough for him to hear but too soft for anyone else to have noted, the urgent whisper came from the direction of the far wall, which overlooked the side of the main building. Turning on his heel, he walked along the long wall toward it.



A strong hand shot out from within the last embrasure just as he was passing it and grasped Elrohir’s arm. The warrior gasped as he was pulled into the tapered recess and pushed abruptly against the side that was hidden from everyone’s view. An instant later, he was struggling to contain his groans while Legolas inundated his cheeks, neck and mouth with scorching kisses, his hands snaking under the Elf-knight’s shirt to stroke the muscled flesh beneath.



Trembling from the searing onslaught, Elrohir feared he would give away their play with an untimely sound of pleasure. He pulled Legolas tight against his tall frame and caught the archer’s lips in a brutal kiss, prying them apart to plunder the sweetness within. Legolas did not protest but abetted him in his own besting. Only after he felt himself able to maintain some silence did Elrohir gentle his maurauding to tenderly caress the now swollen lips of his prince. Tugging open the collar of Legolas’ shirt, he leaned down and marked the archer’s white skin with love-bruises from his throat down to his collarbone and along the top of his shoulder.



Legolas ran his fingers feverishly through his lover’s sable hair, tilting his head back to offer Elrohir more of his flesh. Elbereth, but he was ravenous for the Elf-knight’s loving! Elrohir lifted his head and captured his lips once more and he eagerly parted them for the warrior’s ravaging. It was several long moments before he could finally give voice to what he’d yearned to say from the moment he discovered him amongst the Rangers.



“Forgive me,” Legolas pleaded in hushed tones between the unions of their mouths. “Please forgive me, Elrohir.”



“Hush, melethen”—my love—“your letter said it all,” Elrohir murmured, pressing his lips to the archer’s smooth temple before taking draughts of his lips anon.



“Nay, ‘twas not enough,” Legolas moaned against his mouth, lifting his hands to cup the Elf-knight’s face. “‘Twill never be enough. I need to tell you again. I love you, my Elrohir.” He supped lengthily on his lover’s lips before pressing on. “I was so foolish not to have known my heart’s yearning but I verily know it now. Forgive me for hurting you, seron vell”—beloved. “Forgive me for not cherishing you as you have long deserved.”



Elrohir sighed with contentment upon hearing his prince’s impassioned declaration. “There is naught to forgive,” he whispered. “You did nothing wrong. As I told you ere you left, I made a reckless presumption and you are not to blame for it.”



“But I—”



Whatever the archer thought to say was summarily cut off by another thorough pillaging of his mouth. He ceased to think at all but wove his arms ever more tightly around his lover and returned the kiss with boundless fervor. When Elrohir released him, he was shaking like a young beech in a storm, his need besting him as the brutal battle for the Hornburg had not.



“Please, I cannot last this night without – without—” he rasped almost incoherently. Despair limned his voice for he believed there was no way to assuage his longing. He laid his head upon the warrior’s shoulder, struggling to quell his raucous desire.



Elrohir gazed hungrily at him then glanced out at the crowded chamber. Most of the Rangers had settled down to snatch their rest. The others were unwinding, either in quiet conversation or solitary contemplation. Elladan had already dozed off. Curled up on his pallet, Merry was snoring softly. Gimli reclined beside him; the Dwarf was sharing a few words with one of the Rangers but he looked soon to drop into slumber himself. Elrohir made his decision.



He shifted their positions until the archer was flush against the hidden side of the embrasure. He pushed Legolas against the wall then reached down to unlace the latter’s breeches.



“What are you doing?” Legolas whispered, quivering violently with the loosening of his garment and the imminent release of his painfully rigid shaft.



Elrohir did not answer him but only kissed him hard. Keeping Legolas occupied with the singeing coupling of their mouths, he snuck his hand into the archer’s breeches and freed his length. Legolas groaned in patent bliss against his lips as he proceeded to firmly and rapidly stroke the slick column. The prince clung to him almost desperately, unconsciously thrusting his hips against him.



Legolas whimpered in protest when Elrohir broke their mouths’ avid embrace but Elrohir shushed him with a finger against his lips.



“Turn around,” he growlingly murmured.



The archer stared at him a moment in incredulity but the dark glitter in the Elf-knight’s eyes told him that Elrohir was serious. His breath coming in shallow gasps, Legolas quickly complied. He swallowed hard when his shirt was hitched up and his breeches lowered to bare his backside. And then he realized Elrohir had dropped to his knees behind him. He caught his breath as he felt himself spread for the warrior’s pleasure while a wicked hand slipped around to cup and caress him anew.



Legolas smothered a loud moan when he felt the warm swipe of the younger twin’s tongue followed by another before he was teasingly breached. He tried to dispel the images of what Elrohir was doing to him from his mind and failed as the Elf-knight continued his erotic delving. With such crimson-hued imagery invading his thoughts and serving to heighten the sensations his lover was wreaking on him, Legolas feared he would spend too soon. But the twin ceased his ministrations and rose to his feet. A moment later, Elrohir’s warm body pressed against him. And into him.



The prince just barely kept from calling out from the pleasurable invasion then nearly groaned aloud when Elrohir began to drive into him, taking him deep and hard and fast. He grasped at the rough wall, his fingers seeking purchase in the thin crevices between the stones, needing to brace himself against the sensual assault. The warrior did not make things any easier for him when he once more reached around the prince’s hips and took his aching shaft in hand.



Legolas gasped repeatedly as Elrohir brusquely tugged his hips back, compelling the archer to sheath him even more fully even as he firmly stroked the rigid flesh in his hand. The pace and force was punishing and all the prince could ask for. Ecstasy spiraled in his nether regions, the pressure building with furious speed and fearsome force. Legolas just knew he would not be able to silence himself.



Already whimpering and sobbing quite helplessly, he managed to turn his head and, the tightness in his voice portending a noisily acknowledged climax, moaned desperately, “Elrohir! I cannot take this! Ah, Valar! I will scream the Hornburg down!”



The pressure suddenly began to unravel in his groin and the beginnings of a wail forced itself past his lips. Elrohir swiftly reached up and around with his other hand and clapped it over the prince’s mouth. Coming completely undone, Legolas bit down hard on the Elf-knight’s palm, nearly drawing blood in the process.



Not that Elrohir felt it or cared. He, too, had been fighting to maintain his silence and some control over his body. But with the Elven prince pressed hard against him, his seductive woodland scent permeating his senses and the heated satin of his core surrounding him, it was a battle he was fated to lose. The sound of Legolas frantically pleading with him for succor followed by the exquisite sensation of the archer tightening spasmodically around him and warm cream coating his fingers simply and naturally finished him off. He buried his face in the crook of Legolas’ neck, sucking hard at the pale flesh to stifle his groans.



It took a few minutes before either could speak. Elrohir shifted his position to lean sideways against the wall with his back to the chamber that he might shield Legolas in turn. For the prince had sagged limply against him, nestling his golden head in the crook of Elrohir’s neck. They laced up their breeches while awaiting the calming of their bodies.



Feeling strength return to his limbs, Legolas straightened. He did not speak at once but scattered light kisses on Elrohir’s lips and cheeks. At last, he pulled slightly away and gazed at his Elf-knight with profound delight.



“That was incredible,” he whispered.



Elrohir shook his head, his eyes agleam with mischief. “‘Twas but a means to tide us over,” he murmured. “When we have more time and privacy, I will take you so hard and deep and often you will have reason to wonder if you will still be capable of charging into battle.” He lifted his hand and salaciously licked and sucked the remains of the archer’s opalescent seed from his fingers.



Legolas groaned as his body responded anew to the thrilling threat and the lubricious picture the warrior presented. “You are wicked, meleth” —love—he panted. “You will rouse me again and leave me fitful with longing.”



Elrohir laughed softly. “Then I will say no more,” he said with a naughty grin. He stole a last kiss from his now broadly beaming prince. “Come, let us rest while we can.”



They finally joined the others. Lying together, they slept, Legolas tucked into Elrohir’s side, arms wound tight about the Elf-knight, himself securely enfolded in his lover’s embrace, a smile of utter contentment bowing the archer’s rosy lips.

********

The sun was high and almost all within the Burg were up and about, ready to face the day’s demands. Once again, the Elf-knight and the Elven prince stayed largely apart while the day unfolded. Elrohir went with Elladan to speak with Aragorn about his night’s vigil while Legolas joined Gimli in rousing young Merry from slumber.



None knew of the heights of passion they had earlier scaled as they walked amongst the Rohirrim. Not even Elladan was privy to his twin’s tryst with their woodland friend. At least not yet. But he could deduce what had occurred from the glow of fulfillment that enveloped Elrohir so tellingly and he had to shake his head albeit with an indulgent chuckle at the resourcefulness of lovers even in such unlikely circumstances.



Gimli, too, made his guesses. He had been duly shocked when Legolas first confided his centuries-spanning affair with the younger son of Elrond while the Fellowship rested in Lórien. But after having faced the most improbable and life-threatening of situations in the deeps of Moria, the Dwarf had decided that there were far more unspeakable things in this world than two Elves of the same gender loving each other. Certainly the aura of satisfaction that emanated from his Elf-comrade bespoke the flaring of the flame of his spirit and that was most welcome in these embattled times.



His suspicions were soon confirmed when, in response to his comment on the Rangers of the North, Legolas said, “But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their silence,” then inexplicably added: “And have you marked the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir? Less sombre is their gear than the others’, and they are fair and gallant as Elvenlords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell.” ***



He looked slyly at his friend and caught the gleam of pleasure in his eyes. How he itched then to point out the absurdity of making such a remark to him and the Halfling. After all, it was not as if they had never seen the sons of Elrond before or failed to notice their comeliness. But before he could tease the archer, the hobbit asked another question and he decided to defer his badgering until they were on the road again. There would be time enough then to goad Legolas into a fit. After all, there was nothing more entertaining than a thoroughly provoked and amusingly incomprehensible Wood-elf!



*******************



***Passage quoted from LoTR: Return of the King, Book 5, Chapter 2: The Passing of the Grey Company.



Glossary:

palantír – One of the seven Seeing-stones brought by Elendil and his sons to Middle-earth after the fall of Númenor. As Isildur’s heir, Aragorn was the rightful owner of any that still remained. He used the palantír of Orthanc during his reign to see how the whole of his realm fared.



To be continued…