Royal Flush

The young prince of Mirkwood squirmed under the seneschal's lovemaking, laying his face upon the cool of the surrounding stone as he became lightheaded with need. He had been anticipating the golden Lord's arrival for weeks now, and had not been able to think about much else since this game had begun upon his last visit to Imladris.

Legolas had found himself quite taken with Glorfindel from the moment he had laid eyes upon the luminous beauty. He had quite expected the warrior of legend to be a hardened soldier dulled by the tragedy of war, a hollow figure sent back from Mandos in pity to relive a life a taken away by one duty and replaced with another. So, when he beheld this grand Elf sinfully dripping with elegant charm and natural charisma at one of Elrond's banquets he had queried his dinner companion as to his name.

"Surely you jest," replied the young courtesan at his side, quite shocked that the prince was so obviously out of touch with courtly life.

"That, mellon-nin, is Glorfindel, seneschal and confidant of Lord Elrond. I am quite surprised that his legend has not reached even the darkest depths of Mirkwood, Milord."

Legolas practically dropped the goblet of claret he was fingering when the mystery elf was identified to him. Oh by the Valar, it seemed that not even death could dull this brilliant jewel of Arda for even the tiny flowers that graced the Lord's gleaming hair paled in comparison. Eyes that Legolas had quite expected to be rheumy and tired sparked a brilliant blue and glittered with an inner light that spoke more of divinity than duty. Glorfindel was alive with passion and practically glowed with grace and poise, and when he took to the dance floor with one the elder female guests, he floated effortlessly around the room, the muscles of his lean and powerful legs rippling beneath the clinging fabric of his breeches. No this was not any war weary and dim ancient, but an aristocratic and polished Lord that practically oozed sensuality from every pore of his exquisitely honed body.

Legolas took a sip of his wine to moisten lips that had suddenly gone dry, his eyes never leaving the sociable Lord from over the top of his goblet. Why had this beauty never graced Mirkwood with his presence before? Why could he not tear his eyes away?

"Another falls under the slayer's spell," came a rather snide and somewhat slurred remark from his assigned companion startling the young Prince from his somewhat lustful musings.

"I beg your pardon," repliegolegolas, eyeing the Elf with a lofty glare.

"You, my princeling, you stare at him like a starving wolf on the hunt. Though I do not blame you," he continued, taking another quite unnecessary gulp of wine, "he is stunning."

Legolas blushed at having been caught practically devouring the seneschal with his gaze and turned his embarrassment upon the tipsy Elf instead.

"I stare not, and even if I was to be looking in his direction it would be to admire his statesmanship and finesse rather than his outward attractiveness."

Legolas took another sip of his wine well aware that his outburst had probably revealed more of his attraction than his hungry eyes.

"As you say Milord," replied the now grinning Elf. "I do have to warn you though, Lord Glorfindel is quite a big fish... Even for a Prince of Mirkwood. He is as well known for his bed partners as he is for his illustrious battle with the beast of Morgoth."

Legolas bristled at the courtesan's brazen assumption and drained the remainder of his wine before pushing away his chair and eyeing him disdainfully.

"Are you saying that you do not think me bold enough to attract this Lord's attention, mellon?" The Mirkwood prince lifted the wine glass from the gaping Elf's fingers and drained its contents in one swallow.

"Ahhh now..." replied the courtesan, smirking at the youngling's brashness and offering his hand up in supplication. "Tis not that I doubt your ability to catch his attention my fair Prince Legolas, for you indeed are worthy of much attention." The forward Elf drew a lazy circle on the youngling's hand with his fingertip. "It is whether or not you can keep it, that is in question."

Legolas had pretty much had about all he could take of the Elf's remarks and stood, thrusting the empty goblet into the courtesan's outstretched hand.

"Then we shall have to see who keeps who's attention, now won't we," snarled the young prince turning on his heels and stalking towards the dance floor.

The courtesan poured himself another goblet of wine and settled back into his seat as he watched the sultry prince make his way towards the golden Lord's table.

"This should be very interesting," he mused, catching an escaped droplet of wine with his tongue. "Very interesting indeed."

Glorfindel balanced his goblet in one hand and brushed a few stray flaxen hairs back over his shoulder with the fingers of the other. A small smattering of yellow flowers fluttered from their perch within his tresses and fell helplessly into the folds of his emerald cloak. The dance had left him breathless and flushed, a combination that made the lord even more alluring than he already was.

Leaning back into this chair, and stretching his long legs beneath the table, the seneschal of Imladris let his eyes wander over the assembled guests for the evening. Most he had already made acquaintance of and more than a few met his gaze with knowing interest. Glorfindel simply nodded and smiled. He was restless. Perhaps it was his age or the coming of winter, he was not sure, but in either case for the first time in millennia he was considering retiring early and alone.

The seneschal tried to stifle a yawn and was just about to make his discreet apologies when Erestor, who was his dinner companion for the evening, leaned over close to his ear and chuckled lowly.

"My, my Glorfindel, look what beauty comes to Imladris when we are not looking," he purred, the advisor's slight accent making the words sound more erotic than was perhaps intended.

Glorfindel followed Erestor's admiring gaze across the room expecting to see a comely minstrel or bard, for that seemed to be the darkling's obsession as of late, and not finding any one that seemed to suit the advisor's taste, rolled his cheek to rest against the dark elf's face.

"Meleth," he chided, his head resting on a velveted shoulder with a breathy sigh. "Perhaps you have blinded me with your own brilliance for I see nothing but a snip of a serving boy."

Glorfindel's hand snaked beneath the table and rested suggestively on Erestor's inner thigh. It had been a long time since they had...

"No no..." tutted the dark advisor, stilling Glorfindel's roaming fingers with his own.

"Behind him... look... now... there he is."

Glorfindel opened eyes that had fluttered shut at Erestor's touch and what he saw made him sit up in his seat and take better notice.

A tall youthful elf, regal in bearing, but moving with the stealth and sure stride of one who was weapon trained, was making his way towards them. He was fair indeed, and new to the House of Elrond, of that Glorfindel was sure. The elf boldly met his gaze full on and Glorfindel tensed at the intensity of the eye contact, smiling slightly and nodding in return.

When the youngling stopped to procure an aperitif from a passing servant, the seneschal took the opportunity to question the chortling advisor further.

"Who is that Elf meleth? Do you know of him?"

Glorfindel did not let the fair youth out of his sight.

"Aye I do," replied Erestor watching the seneschal's interest grow with every step closer the youngling took. "That is Thranduil's youngest son, Legolas," he continued, his fingers curling around Glorfindel's and playfully bringing them to his lips.

"The Mirkwood prince?" questioned the seneschal, shivering involuntarily at the press of Erestor's mouth.

"Indeed…Mirkwood does have its shining jewels mellon-nin ,despite the darkness of the land."

Erestor dropped the seneschal's hand and snatched up his goblet as the youngling approached.

"Lord Erestor, I am pleased to see you again," offered Legolas coming to stand before the advisor. "I am so very glad to have finally persuaded my father to let me guest in Elrond's fair city. It is far more beautiful than I ever expected," he continued, his last words drawing his gaze to lock with the frosty blue of the seneschal's fathomless eyes.

Erestor watched as Legolas drank in the beauty of his companion, and discreetly kicked the golden Lord from beneath the table to shake him from his silent regard.

"I am Glorfindel," offered the seneschal half rising from his seat. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure," he continued, his gaze never leaving the prince's.

"Legolas Thanduillion," replied the youngling, offering the seneschal a cordial of Miruvor, "And I believe the pleasure will be all mine Lord Glorfindel."

Erestor practically choked on his claret, causing the seneschal to come to his aid.

"Are you alright, mellon-nin," inquired Glorfindel handing the sputtering Elf his handkerchief.

"Aye," croaked the advisor dabbing at his lips with a smirk.

"Though I must warn you of this Mirkwood vintage, meleth," he continued,t ist is young and needs to be savored, not gulped."

Erestor allowed a smirking Glorfindel to help him to stand and straightened his robes before addressing the young Prince. "I'm afraid that I am perhaps a bit more weary than I thought," apologized the advisor, tucking Glorfindel's handkerchief into his sleeve.

"I think that I shall retire. Glorfindel I trust you will show our young Prince some of Imladris' finer views in my absence." The advisor turned, offering both Elves a nod, leaving them to hesitate awkwardly in his wake.

"Well," began Glorfindel raising his cordial to Legolas. "Shall we partake of this fine nectar on the balcony? I do believe you will find the view from there quite to your liking." The seneschal swept around the table and let his arm fall to the small of the youngling's back guiding him with a gentle press of his hand.

Legolas did not protest, and allowed the golden Lord this intimacy. It was not until they had crossed the room that the seneschal's arm slipped around his waist, and fine timing indeed, for they had reached Legolas's table and his wide-eyed dinner companion.

As they passed, the prince let his free hand slip to Glorfindel's backside and glanced over his shoulder seductively at the gaping Elf.

His plan was working splendidly.