Nightstar

Nightstar - Part II



Title: Nightstar - Part II

Type: FPS

Author: Vairë (vaire@donnesys.com)

Rating: NC17
Pairing:
Haldir/OMC/Legolas

Disclaimer: I worship at the JRR altar. I make no claim
to any of the characters except Syshae. I make no money from this, so don’t
bother to sue – you’ll only get hairballs the cat hacked up.

Summary:
See Part I

Elvish
translations: at the end of this part
Posting: Please ask first.

Feedback:
Much appreciated. I enjoy discussing the finer points of my stories with
others. All flames will be gleefully passed along to the dragons for their
fiery consumption.

 

Nightstar - Part II

Third Age 2312

“Sit still,” ae aae admonished affectionately. “’Tis
impossible to finish this with you squirming like a landed fish.”

“A landed fish?” Haldir asked in mock horror.

Syshae chuckled. “Ai, one just pulled from the water,
flopping and squirming on the ground.”

“Squirming?” Haldir sounded incensed. “I do not squirm.”

Another chuckle. “Indeed you do, melethron nin.” Syshae
leaned down so that his lips brushed Haldir’s ear as he spoke softly. “You
squirm most delightfully when you are beneath me and I take you.” He straightened.

Cool air brushed over Haldir’s ear where Syshae’s warm
lips had just been, causing him to shiver. “You torment me without mercy,
lirimaer. We dare not be late for the greeting. The Lady—”

“Shall have both our skins if you do not remain still so that
I can finish this.”

“You take too long!”

“’Twas your choice to have so many done.”

“Ai,” Haldir agreed ruefully. “A very painful choice.”

“’Twas a worthy effort and the effect is most arousing.
There ’tis done.” Syshae stepped back, admiring the sight of the alternating
gold and mithril loops that lined the outer edges of both of Haldir’s ears. He
still didn’t understand why his lover had decided to endure so many piercings,
knowing all too well the agony each one caused when it was done, but Haldir had
been adamant, and so, over time, Syshae had done them—and held his lover as he
cried uncontrollably from the pain after each one. Whatever the cause, by the
end of their second century together, Haldir’s ears were pierced exactly as
Syshae’s were.

Syshae ran a fingertip over the metal loops in one ear.
“’Tis becoming—the blend of metals with your hair.” Indeed, the contrasting
metals perfectly accented the silver blonde of Haldir’s hair.

“Not so becoming as you, lirimaer.” Haldir stood and
turned to face Syshae. He let his gaze wander slowly from head to toes and back
again, drinking in every detail of his lover’s appearance. As always, Syshae’s
beauty stole his breath. He was garbed that night in a tunic, overrobe, and
leggings of heavy silk so dark red that it was nearly black. The color picked
out the subtle highlights in Syshae’s hair. That night, he had dressed it very
simply, gathering it into a tail that was bound in only three places along its
length by mithril ties. A single lock at his brow was left free to hint at its
unbound glory.

“Would that I could take you now, for I am on fire with
need.”

A hand pressed to Haldir’s groin, drawing a sound between
a sigh and a moan from him.

“Ai, you are indeed needy, melethron nin.” Syshae’s nimble
fingers stroked Haldir through his robe. “I would relieve this need for you,
had we time.”

“’Twill not take much time.” Haldir ground himself against
Syshae’s hand.

“Ai, I feel that you are correct, but…” Syshae dropped his
hand and stepped back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “We cannot have you
stain your robes like an elfling with no control. What would our esteemed
visitors think to see the marchwarden of Lorien had spilled his seed thusly?”

Haldir growled. “They would think that he has a teasing
witch for a lover—and they would be correct!”

 

“Who is he?”

Haldir looked at his lover and chuckled. Syshae seemed
unable to take his eyes off the new arrivals to Lorien. “Elladan or Elrohir?
’Tis difficult to tell the twins apart so it is said,” he responded teasingly,
knowing full well that Syshae hadn’t been referring to the twins, both of whom
he knew well. Syshae didn’t speak or look at the marchwarden, but his left hand
wandered back until it rested against Haldir’s groin. Haldir leaned forward,
bringing his lips next to Syshae’s ear. He placed his own hand over Syshae’s
and pressed it to him, knowing that the positioning of their bodies hid his
actions from any other in the room. “A threat or a promise, melethron nin?”
Syshae licked his lips, causing Haldir to take a deep, steadying breath. He
wanted nothing more than to drag his lover off and take him wildly, until they
were both spent. Over nine hundred years had passed since they bonded, yet the
ties and desire between them only increased.

Syshae had turned out to be a creative and open lover,
willing to try anything—and anyone—that caught his fancy. Few others truly did
catch his fancy, but there had been several they had brought to their bed over
the years. Never did Haldir or Syshae feel jealous or threatened on those
occasions when the other brought a third into their relationship; the depth of
their bond to each other was unquestioned. And so it was that they enjoyed
another from time-to-time, while growing closer still to each other.

A gentle pressure on his groin reminded Haldir of Syshae’s
original question. Chuckling again, he took pity on his lover, before Syshae
did something to break protocol, like marching across the room and demanding
the strange elf’s name, thereby earning his grandmother’s disapproval once
again. “’Tis little I know. Only that he came from Imladris with Elladan and
Elrohir, and that he is named Erenor.”

“’Tis enough.”

Haldir reached forward, grasping Syshae’s chin and turning
his lover to face him. “You are a wicked elf,” he teased. “What exactly do you
have in mind for this visitor to Lorien?”

Syshae’s black eyes danced with mischief. “Many, many
things, melethron nin. All more wicked than the last and therefore more
enjoyable.”

 

“Who is he?” Legolas glanced at the dark vision who had
been eying him predatorily all night. His skin felt scorched, as if those eyes
branded him, and he had to fight to keep from simply crossing the room and
throwing himself at the exotic elf’s feet. For Legolas, accustomed to being the
pursuer, it was a disturbing new feeling, one he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Hmmm?” Elladan looked up to see who had Legolas’s
attention. “Oh, Syshae. He is the Sindon prince, the Lady’s grandson.”

Sindon, Sindon. Legolas turned the word over in his mind.
It seemed as if there was something he should remember, but it eluded him.
Probably some footnote of history, he decided. He’d always been an indifferent
scholar, preferring to hone his skills as a warrior in lieu of reading dusty
old tomes or listening to a tutor droning endlessly about days of glory and
angst long past, so it was no wonder if he didn’t remember some obscure point
of history. Whatever. The way the prince was looking at him, his visit to
Lorien promised to be very entertaining.

“The one with him is Haldir, first marchwarden of
Lorien—his bondmate.”

Startled, Legolas jerked around to face Elladan, his
sapphire eyes widening. The older twin laughed. “The Galadhrim differ somewhat
from our Imladris customs. Those who are bonded freely take other lovers for a
spell if they desire, sometimes together and sometimes alone. ’Tis, I think, a
much better way than ours, where such things are common yet all pretend they do
not occur.”

“Should one or both desire you, ’tis not an experience to
miss,” Elrohir, the younger twin, chimed in.

“You know this for truth?” Legolas demanded.

Both twins laughed. “Of course,” Elrohir answered when he
got his laughter under control. “Father sent us here many years ago to learn
the ways of the Galadhrim and hone our skills. Haldir and Syshae were most
educational—and enjoyable.”

Legolas looked back at the alluring elf that had caught
his attention, and his equally attractive bondmate. A prince and a guardian,
bonded. Intriguing. “How is it he is called the Sindon prince, not the prince
of Lorien?”

Elladan shrugged. “None know where he fostered. The Lord
and Lady announced his return to their lands over a thousand years ago. They
have spoken naught of his life before that. Mayhap the Galadhrim know, but none
has said. He has been here since.”

Entranced, Legolas stared back at Syshae. He felt himself
blushing under the other’s continued scrutiny and knowing eyes. Another first.
He didn’t blush like a virginal maid; others did, when he pursued them.

“Legolas—”

The sound of his own name snapped him out of the trance he
had fallen into, and he spun around angrily, cutting Elladan off sharply.
“Erenor,” he hissed, looking around quickly to see if any other had overheard.
Fortunately, it appeared none had. “My name is Erenor.”

Elladan sighed. “Why this charade, gwador?”

“You know well why. I claim no tie to Mirkwood or its
king, and would avoid the distrust afforded to the elves of that blood. The
enmity between the Galadhrim and Mirkwood is well known. I am here freely, to
learn, and would have no long-harbored, half-forgotten ills laid at my feet
without due cause.”

 

Snagging another goblet of wine from a passing servant,
Haldir handed it to Syshae. “It appears Elladan has upset your intended
conquest, lirimaer.”

“Then I must rescue him,” Syshae murmured.

Haldir chuckled. He wished his lover luck, although he
doubted there was an elf alive who would turn him down. The visitor from
Imladris was nearly as handsomely beautiful as Syshae. Haldir would in no way
mind bedding him.

Syshae reached the group that included the visitors from
Imladris. Seeing his approach, Elladan greeted him and introduced the golden
haired elf with them.

“Syshae of Lorien, the Sindon prince. Erenor of Imladris.”

Never breaking eye contact with the newcomer, Syshae
inclined his head regally.

Up close, the dark vision was even more prefect and
alluring than Legolas had imagined. He was easily the most beautiful elf
Legolas had seen, and Legolas was willing to bet that even Lúthien’s legendary
beauty would pale next to him. There was a haunting, mesmeric air about him
that pulled at Legolas. It was not like the aura that powerful rulers, such as
Elrond and Galadriel, often developed, but rather an indefinable call to the
senses, with an underlying current of eroticism. Legolas’s desire threatened to
burn out of control.

Syshae’s eyes regarded him knowingly. “Greetings, gwador.
Have you journeyed to Lorien previous?”

The black velvet voice rippled over him and Legolas
shivered. He licked his suddenly dry lips. He struggled to find words that
wouldn’t sound inane. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Elladan and
Elrohir stifling laughter at his reaction. Valar! He had to get himself back
under control. This Syshae would think him nothing more than a green elfling
undone by a handsome face. Desperately, he reeled in his thoughts.

“Nay, my lord. Much to my regret, for it is the fairest
wood I have ever seen and it harbors even fairer treasures.”

The twins laughed aloud, but not enough to attract too
much attention. Legolas was puzzled, for the corners of Syshae’s lips were
twitching also. What had he said? It was a straightforward enough compliment on
the beauty of Lorien and Syshae himself.

Seeing his bemused expression, Syshae took pity on him,
and explained. “You call me ‘lord’ but ’tis well known that I loathe my
princely title and am constantly chastised. if not outright berated. by the
Lord and Lady for unseemly conduct.” His dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

Legolas smiled. Another like himself—and the twins. Almost
he wished that he had claimed his own royal title, that they might all share
the enjoyment, but no, he wanted friendship from the Galadhrim, not resentment
because of the misfortune he bore in being Thranduil’s son

“May you enjoy your stay, and find much to interest you,
Erenor.”

Syshae’s rich voice was causing warmth to pool in
Legolas’s groin. “My interest ’tis already found,” he replied, not sure if he
pushed too far, but then Syshae was certainly not acting reticent.

“What is your interest?”

“I enjoy the hunt, my l—Syshae. I find the chase most
intriguing and stimulating.”

“But ’tis so easy for the hunter to become the prey.”

“Not if the hunter is skilled.”

“What if the prey is also skilled? Might it not turn on
you and you become the hunted?”

Enjoying the repartee, Legolas smiled and shook his head.
His confidence was quickly returning, and he was determined to seize the upper
hand and make up for his earlier gaucheness. “Never has that happened to me,”
he stated firmly, his eyes roaming hungrily over Syshae.

The mischievous sparkle in the dark eyes morphed into a
molten heat and the erotic call that emanated from Syshae intensified until
Legolas could feel it like heat beating against his senses. “Really? ’Tis said
to be most pleasurable to be taken by a truly skilled hunter.”

Before Legolas could even begin to form a reply, a deep
voice spoke from behind Syshae. “The Ladsiresires your attendance, lirimaer.”

Legolas pried his eyes from Syshae and looked for the
speaker. The handsome Galadhrim the twins had named Syshae’s bondmate stood
behind him. With his proud, aloof bearing, alabaster skin, and silver blonde
hair, he reminded Legolas of an ice sculpture. With a start, Legolas noticed
that his ears were pierced in the same manner as Syshae’s. He had never seen
anything like it. It was undeniably erotic, but did the Galadhrim not have
sensitive ears? No, they must for he saw no others with more than one piercing,
and those were only a few.

“Erenor of Imladris. Haldir, first marchwarden of Lorien.”
The two nodded to each other. “Your pardon, but duty calls.” After introducing
the two, Syshae drifted into the crowd, wending his way through it as
gracefully as a gazelle until he reached the Lady Galadriel’s side.

Legolas watched the slender form appreciatively until he
felt eyes upon him. He turned to find Haldir regarding him. Given the way he
had been eyeing Syshae, and the fact that Haldir was his bondmate, Legolas
expected censure or at least derision. Instead, Haldir appeared amused. Legolas
narrowed his eyes. Why did everyone seem to find his every action so amusing
that night? He was vain enough to know he looked good—the silver-blue robe he
wore complimented the sapphire of his eyes and the gold blonde of his hair, and
his physical beauty had never been questioned. Perhaps he hadn’t been quite his
usual smooth self for a few minutes, but meeting Syshae for the first time
would be enough to unsettle a Vala!

“I laugh not at you, Erenor of Imladris, but in sympathy.
Well do I know his effect on others. I assure you that you managed far better
than others I recall.” Haldir glanced sharply at the twins who had the grace to
blush. It was true, Haldir thought, especially since Syshae had been
purposefully exerting every bit of allure he was capable of—and that was no
inconsiderable amount. “Since it appears the Lady has garnered Syshae, perhaps
you would accept the poor substitute of my company and I shall show you about
Caras Galadon?”

“Blind as a mortal would I be if I found you a poor
substitute. I accept your gracious offer on one condition.”

Haldir raised one eyebrow.

“I would have you tell me how Elladan and Elrohir fared
when first they came to Lorien.”

The twin’s blushes deepened and they started to protest,
but Haldir ignored them, taking Legolas’s arm and guiding him toward an exit
from an audience chamber. “’Twould be a great pleasure. Oft stories are more
appreciated with the passage of time.”

Legolas heard the twins groan loudly as he stepped through
the curtained doorway.

 

“…and I do not expect a repeat of the behavior you
exhibited with Elladan and Elrohir, or with Glorfindel,” Galadriel’s tone left
no room for argument.

“Ai, my Lady.” Syshae sounded contrite.

“I do not want to spend another four centuries apologizing
to Elrond for you corrupting another of his people.”

“Ai, my Lady.” Syshae was intently studying the grain of
the floor of the great talan, listening to his grandmother with only enough
attention to mouth a response in the appropriate places.

Sensing his inattention, Galadriel sighed. She should be firmer
with him, but she found it impossible. Impatiently, she dismissed him. Syshae
lost no time in disappearing from the gathering.

At her side Celeborn chuckled. “Why does he vex you so, my
love? Never has he harmed another and all have had great pleasure with him and
Haldir. Only to our enemies is there any danger in him, then he is sterner than
mithril. He is a strong warrior and a gentle healer—a prince to be proud of.
You should relish his high spirits and zest for life. I confess when first
Haldir brought him to us, I feared never to see either.”

“You are correct, and I do delight in seeing them, ’tis
only that he is near two millennia old. Most elves his age—”

“Have not half as much fun as he does—or as his
grandmother enjoyed of me last night if her cries of passion were any measure.”

Galadriel blushed lightly, but turned to look Celeborn in
the eye. “If your cries were any measure, his grandmother pleasured you well
too.”

“Aye, well indeed, my love.”

 

Leaving the great ta Sys Syshae raced down the ladders and
ropes leading to the ground. In less than three minutes, he had filched two
skins of the spicy red wine that Celeborn kept in his private supply and headed
into the woods. Ten minutes later, he reached a secluded glade that held a pool
of water heated by an underground spring. Not as hot as some of the others in
Lorien, no stream rose from its surface except in the winter, but it was always
pleasantly warm, and had a fall of icy water from a spring to one side. A thick
cushion of grass filled the glade with niphredil scattered here and there. He
saw the two figures already seated in the warm waters of the pool and smiled.

Near silent footsteps crossed the glade. Legolas didn’t
hear their approach until they had closed half the distance. Even before he
turned, he knew who it would be. Syshae. Legolas shivered, remembering Syshae’s
words earlier. What if the prey is also skilled? Might it not turn on you
and you become the hunted? He looked from Haldir, sitting quietly relaxed
in the pool behind him, to Syshae, gliding toward him like a hunting cat, and
wondered who was the hunter and who the prey. He was beginning to feel more and
more like he was the latter. That was unacceptable.

As Syshae reached the edge of the pool and turned to set
something on a nearby flat rock, Legolas stood and waded from the water.

“Lirimaer,” Legolas used the endearment he had heard
Haldir use earlier. It assuredly fit, he thought as Syshae stood back up and
faced him. “The night is warm and you wear too many clothes,” he teased
lightly, sensing that the two he was with would not be offended by the light
banter.

Syshae smiled wickedly. “What do you propose as the
solution, nin bain?”

“Let me show you.” Legolas closed the distance between
them. Leisurely, he stripped Syshae of his garments, taking time to admire and
stroke and kiss each revealed bit of flesh.

“’Tis as if you worship me, nin bain.” Syshae’s voice was
languorous as he drifted on the web of sensations Legolas had drawn from him.

“You are worthy of worship, elf prince.”

“And how else would you worship him?” Haldir’s voice
sounding from right behind him startled Legolas. He had been so focused on
Syshae, so intent on the sounds he drew from the prince and the shivers as he
touched the alabaster flesh, that he hadn’t heard the marchwarden’s approach.

Legolas was on hneesnees before Syshae. Haldir knelt
behind him and pulled him back against his strong body, still wet from the
pool. An arm around Legolas’s chest held him firmly in place, and he marveled
at the power and strength of the guardian. Gasping in delight as Haldir began
to run his free hand over his body, Legolas leaned back, his head resting
against a shoulder.

As Haldir continued to explore his body, Legolas kept his
half-lidded eyes on Syshae, who stood over him, skin bathed silver in the
moonlight. “Ebony and mithril…” he murmured.

“Magnificent, is he not?” Haldir’s lips brushed Legolas’s
shoulder as he asked his question.

“Ai, as magnificent as you.” Legolas managed to turn so
that he knelt facing Haldir. “You are a warrior sculpted of mithril.”

“Poet. Flatterer.” Haldir teased gently.

“Nay, just a simple elf overwhelmed by sensuous beauty.”

“As am I, nin bain.” Haldir’s lips found Legos fos for a
searing kiss. When he pulled back, both were breathless, and Legolas moaned in
protest.

“I would give you more nin bain. I would give you the
greatest pleasure.” Haldir’s strong, slender fingers slipped between Legolas’s
thighs and found the tight entrance to his body.

Legolas gasped as those fingers swept across him and
pulled back.

“What do you fear, nin bain?”

“I have never given myself thus to another.”

“Then ’tis time you learned the sweetness of submission
and of surrendering yourself totally to another.”

Legolas shook his head. “I do not know. I am not sure I
can do this thing you ask.”

“I shall not force
you, nin bain, but dearly would I love to hold you as you lose yourself in your
passion and give yourself freely to me, and gladly would I return that passion
and give you pleasure.”

“And would you also submit to me?” Legolas studied
Haldir’s gray eyes, unable to imagine one so stern and commanding as the
marchwarden submitting to anyone.

“Aye, I would, for there is great pleasure in submission,
as I would show you.”

Legolas’s eyes widened in surprise at Haldir’s ready
acquiescence. Toundound to be most pleasurable to be taken by a truly
skilled hunter. Syshae’s words rang in his head. He looked around, a
question in his sapphire eyes. Wordlessly, Syshae slipped to kneel behind him
and wrapped his arms around Legolas. He brushed the golden hair aside, licking
and kissing along the top of the exposed shoulder. Legolas felt his resistance
lessening. He wanted to do as Haldir asked, but he was afraid.

“Relax, nin bain,” Haldir murmured softly. “Let us simply please
you.”

Hands roamed over Legolas’s body, as did lips, and teeth,
and tongues. Skilled hands that danced and stroked and pinched. Hands that
scored fiery trails with the edge of a nail, and then soothed with a gentle
caress. Lips that kissed and nuzzled and nibbled with touches as soft as the
stroke of a butterfly’s wings and as hot and demanding as a raging inferno. He
was licked and stroked, fondled and caressed, teased and aroused—each touch
giving pleasure. His eyes closed and he gave himself to the sensations. Not
knowing which touch was whose and not caring. Those oh so talented and knowing
hands brought him whimpering to the brink of release then faded away, slowing
their ministrations until his desire abated somewhat, again and again, until he
thought he would go mad.

One part of his body only, did they omit from their
attention. His groin ached, his cock as hard as he had ever felt it. His sac
had drawn up tight against him and was full to bursting, the skin
hypersensitive. He started to reach for himself, but a hand prevented the
movement. He whimpered with need, but his hands were firmly moved to his sides.

“Saes…Valar! saes.” His hips bucked and his swollen cock
brushed against a muscular thigh. He cried aloud and moved again, but the thigh
was gone and only the night air greeted his aching hardness. Legolas whimpered
again. “Saes…saes…”

Haldir’s mouth claimed his in a passionate kiss, tongues
mating with each other in a frenzied dance. A strong hand closed tightly around
him as another pinched a nipple. He bucked wildly, his hands frantically
clutching Haldir’s shoulders. He became aware of another sensation—one he had
never experienced before. Syshae had penetrated him with an oil-slicked finger
and was gently wriggling the digit inside him. Legolaspeasped and broke away
from the kiss.

“Shhh, nin bain, relax.”

As Haldir spoke, Syshae found the hidden spot inside and
Legolas cried aloud in pleasure. Unable to control himself, he pushed back
against Syshae’s hand, craving more of that unutterably delicious feeling.

Haldir’s strong hand locked on his chin, forcing Legolas
to meet his burning gaze. “He shall give you more nin bain, as shall I—much
more—but we shall not have you unwilling. You must agree to this. Shall you
submit to us, it shall be willing.”

“Ai, Valar!” Legolas groaned, words he never expected to
hear himself say falling without hesitation from his lips. “Saes! I am yours.
Take me!”

The one finger inside him became two and Legolas groaned
with pleasure as they found his hidden spot stroke after stroke. Haldir’s lips
played on him like a musical maestro with a favorite instrument, finding every
sensitive piece of flesh and exploiting it—licking and kissing, grazing with
his teeth, biting gently but firmly. By the time the two fingers became three,
Legolas was no more than a mass of writhing flesh and need, mindless to
anything but his desire. Incoherent sounds fell from his lips, interspersed
with an occasional ‘saes’. Haldir took Legolas’s aching cock in hand and began
stroking it in time to Syshae’s thrusting fingers. Hard, he gripped the shaft
at the bottom and stroked up its length, then gently slid back down.

“More!” Legolas managed, panting, skin slicked with sweat.
“Saes!”

Syshae changed his thrusts, making them faster and harder,
sweeping over Legolas’s pleasure spot every time, while Haldir again matched
his motions. Soon, very soon, Legolas screamed aloud his pleasure, his body
arching taut as a strung bow, as he came, spilling himself over Haldir’s hand
and their abdomens. Syshae waited until the last spasm had passed before
withdrawing his fingers. Legolas whimpered in protest.

“Erenor, you are indeed a gift,” Haldir declared as he
gazed down at the disheveled elf in his arms. “Is he not truly beautiful in his
submission, lirimaer?”

“Ai,” Syshae’s hand stroked Legolas’s cheek. “Truly,
melethron nin. Will he submit fully?”

Floating on a sea of bliss he had never imagined existed,
Legolas nonetheless managed to respond. “Ai,” he murmured softly, “I will
submit fully—and gladly. Claim me and take your pleasure of me, for surely you
have given me mine.”

A deep rumbling chuckle, more like a purr than laughter,
came from Haldir. “Nay, pen-neth, you misunderstand us. ’Tis not repayment we
seek, but further pleasure for us all. Gladly will I claim you, and I shall
have pleasure of you, but you shall have it of me as well. ’Tis not taking I
would do with you, but sharing.”

Groaning again, Legolas felt his desire begin to rise
again with the marchwarden’s words. Truly Syshae was blessed with a bondmate
beyond all others in Middle Earth.

“Ai, as am I,” Ha rep replied, and Legolas realized he had
spoken aloud.

Haldir eased Legolas back until he lay upon the soft grass
of the glade. Something cool trickled over his lips and, licking them, he realized
it was a spicy red wine. Opening his eyes, he saw Sysahe kneeling beside him,
smiling wickedly as he held a wine skin above Legolas’s dry lips. Eagerly,
Legolas accepted the offering, drinking deeply before Syshae lifted the skin
away and took a deep draught himself and then handed it to Haldir. Haldir drank
and offered Legolas more, but he shook his head. Syshae took the skin back and
drizzled wine over Legolas’s torso. The slightly chill liquid pooled in the
hollows of his body. He watched raptly as Syshae lowered his head and began
licking the wine up in catlike laps.

With one hand, Syshae gather Legolas’s wrists and pinned
them above his head. Legolas felt Haldir gather the remains of his spent seed
and knew that the marchwarden was preparing to take him. Strangely, given his
earlier fear, he felt only anticipation. He wanted the masterful marchwarden
inside him, claiming him. For the first time in his life, he was utterly
content to surrender. Syshae bent forward and captured his lips in a deep kiss
as Haldir thrust slowly into him. Already stretched and relaxed, there was
little pain, only a slight burning sensation that quickly faded under the touch
of both Galadhrim.

The feel of Syshae’s tongue lapping the wine from his
body, interspersed with deep, drugging kisses, and Haldir’s thrusts had
Legolas’s desire rising quickly. How could this be? He had just come. He should
not be able— Syshae bit one nipple, holding it in his teeth until Legolas
whimpered, then laved it gently with his tongue. He repeated the treatment on
the other nipple. Back and forth he moved until Legolas was writhing
uncontrollably. Then he moved to the elf’s sensitive ears. Legolas cried aloud
and his body arched upwards as Syshae’s talented tongue traced the outer edge

He felt Haldir increase the pace of his thrusts, beginning
to slam into him. He forced his eyes open so he could see the silver blonde
warrior who rode him. Haldir’s gray gaze locked on his, and Legolas’s breath
caught. The normal carefully controlled mask was gone and in its place was a
myriad of emotions too great to decipher all of them. Syshae’s free hand sought
his again erect cock and stroked it, as Haldir’s strong hands gripped his hips
almost painfully. Legolas managed to thrust his hips upward to meet Haldir’s
strokes. He struggled to no avail to free his hands from Syshae’s grasp that he
might touch them. Haldir moved one of his hands to join Syshae’s in stroking
Legolas’s cock.

“Saes…saes…” he begged.

His words snapped Haldir’s remaining control. He slammed
into Legolas again and cried aloud his release as he poured into the slighter
elf’s body. Legolas bucked against him, squirming shamelessly, milking every
drop from the guardian’s shaking body as he too spilled himself. Haldir rested
his forehead on Legolas’s chest, breathing hard, as he slipped from him. Syshae
released Legolas’s hands and Legolas wrapped his arms around Haldir, holding
the trembling body to him.

“Thank you, Haldir of Lorien. Indeed you have taught me
that submission is sweet.” Legolas felt Haldir’s lips curl into a smile against
his chest. “But I shall still claim your submission.”

“Gladly, nin bain.” Haldir sat back on his knees, his
breathing still deep but controlled. “But for now, our most patient Sindon
prince requires our attention.”

Legolas turned his head to see Syshae sitting back on his
heels, body lightly sheened with sweat, breathing rapid as the studied the
other two. His impressive erection rose proud and hard from his groin.

With only a glance at each other, Haldir and Legolas moved
to pin Syshae on his back, hands beside his hips, one of them on each side, the
length of their bodies touching. Syshae moaned hey hey began exploring every
inch of him with lips and tongue and fingers. Every sensitive spot was nibbled
and licked and teased until he begged for release. He was nearly incoherent,
pleading brokenly in the language of the Galadhrim, of which Legolas understood
only part of the words. Syshae writhed under them, his head thrashing from side
to side as he tried in vain to move his hips. Their legs held his in place. One
hand holding his wrists, the other pinning his shoulder down. Moaning his
frustration, Syshae began demanding they finish him.

Following Haldir’s lead—for surely he knew his lover’s
preferences better than Legolas could guess—the prince of Mirkwood moved down
Syshae’s body until they both reached the hard shaft begging for release. Both
tongues reached out and curled around the hard flesh, licking up and down,
pausing occasionally to mate with each other. Syshcreacreamed and his body
arched under them, but they held him in place, allowing him almost no movement.
They continued their gentle assault on him, hearing the cries of pleasure and
the sobs of frustration they tore from Syshae.

Haldir reached out and ran his hand across Legolas’s
abdomen, slicking his fingers with the milky fluid that covered it. He shifted
his legs back, allowing Syshae to move. Legolas copied his action. Syshae bent
both legs at the knee, spreading them as wide as he could, silently begging to
be taken. Haldir caressed the exposed sac and the sensitive skin behind it,
drawing a series of cries from Syshae, then slid a finger deep within the
pliant body. Legolas continued to lick up and down his hard length and suck on
it, while caressing his inner thighs. In quick succession, Haldir slid two more
fingers in Syshae who bucked eagerly, trying to take them deeper.

“More!” Syshae demanded.

Haldir moved back so that he again worked on Syshae’s cock
with Legolas while his fingers probed and thrust. Syshae widened his legs even
further, his hips shoving forcefully upward against them.

“Saes, melethorn nin…saes more…”

Legolas felt the quiver in Syshae’s inner thighs as he
stroked them. Haldir changed the movement of his fingers, driving them deep in
a corkscrewing motion, and Syshae’s release broke over him. With a scream, he
erupted, warm, milky fluid spewing forth in bursts. Legolas and Haldir both
caught and lapped it up eagerly, continuing after Syshae’s final tremor until
he grew too sensitive and begged them to stop. All three collapsed into a
tangled heap of limbs and bodies and hair.

Legolas was dazed. His body was sated like never before.
The faint ache in his buttocks even felt good. With some surprise, he realized
that knowing he had submitted to Haldir satisfied him; he felt happy and
content at having been the instrument of Haldir’s pleasure. Tis found to be
most pleasurable to be taken by a truly skilled hunter. Syshae had been
right about that. And the pleasure he’d had… He was bereft of words to describe
the entire experience. He’d had multiple partners before, but none anywhere
near as blatantly and overwhelmingly erotic as the two with him. He sighed
blissfully. Lorien. Perhaps he had found his home.

#

Elladan clapped Legolas on the back. “It appears we are
leaving you in very capable hands.” He grinned. “You have hardly been parted
from your new lovers since we arrived.”

Feeling himself blush lightly, Legolas looked away.
Elladan was correct; he, Syshae, and ir hir had become almost inseparable over
the past weeks. Even when the two guardians were on patrol, Legolas accompanied
them. At first he was hesitant. Knowing they were bonded, he expected nothing
more than a few excellent romps, but they had accepted him into their relationship,
pulling him into their private world and sharing it freely with him. Both
seemed to desire him as much as he did them. How long it would last until they
tired of him—for he doubted he would ever tire of them—he had no idea, but he
was determined to savor every minute he had with them.

“You must tell them.” Elrohir’s insistent voice broke into
his thoughts. Legolas glared at him. “You must,” Elrohir repeated. “’Tis no
good to hide who you are. Truth will out.”

Legolas clenched his hands into fists by his sides. “Nay!
I cannot—”

“You will not,” the younger twin corrected. “And ’tis like
to cause great trouble when the truth is revealed. The longer ’tis hidden, the
more difficult—”

“Enough! I have heard your arguments. I will do this in my
own time. Remember that your word binds you on this matter.”

“Ai. The knowledge of your true name shall not be known
from us.” Elrohir sounded sad. Elladan merely nodded his agreement. Both turned
and joined the three guardians waiting to escort them to the northern border.

#

Crouched on a tree limb, Orophin watched with eager eyes
as the band of orcs filed past beneath his feet. He spared not even a glance at
the surrounding trees where the other Galadhrim guardians were hidden. That
morning, Davan, a young guardian on his first patrol, had spied the band of
orcs heading toward Lorien. With the ease of long practice, the eight guardians
had moved into position ahead of the tehem and hidden themselves in the trees,
melting into the background so that they were invisible to all but elven eyes.

The last of the ragged band passed beneath him and Orophin
drew his bow, the deadly arrow tip aimed at the d crd creature’s back. He heard
the unmistakable twang of a bowstring—Rumil’s first shot that signaled the
attack—and let the arrow fly. Straight and true, it flew, embedding itself deep
in the orc’s back. The wretched creature screamed and fell to its knees,
clawing to reach the shaft, but Orophin had already let fly another arrow. That
one pierced the orc’s heart. Not waiting to see its inevitable death, Orophin
sighted on another of the foul creatures.

Around him, bowstrings sang as the Galadhrim unleashed
volley after volley on the band of orcs. Fully a hundred of the creatures had
passed into the wood. Quickly, their numbers diminished. A flash of movement in
a tree some distance to his right caught his eye as an elf dropped lightly to
the ground in front of four surviving orcs, drawing his sword. Davan.

Orophin had no shot at the orcs for the risk of hitting
Davan was too great as he spun and slashed at the creatures. Instead he raced
toward him, leaping lightly from tree to tree. Mere seconds passed, but two of
the orcs were already down and the third bleeding copiously from a gash on its
thigh. Suddenly Orophin saw movement behind Davan. One of the downed orcs
struck, its curved blade biting deep into Davan’s calf, driving the elf to his
knees. The orc pulled him down by his hair, jerking Davan’s head back and
slicing his throat open even as four arrows sunk into its body.

“Nay!” Rumil’s anguished cry came too late.

 

Rumil was inconsolable. Davan had been his protégée—as
well as his lover. He blamed himself for Davan’s death, convinced that some
lack in Davan’s training on his part had caused the ill-considered decision to
join in combat with the orcs rather than slaughtering them from the safety of
the trees.

Legolas watched helplessly as Rumil sat by himself,
staring into the distance. It had been five weeks since Davan’s death and the
patrol’s return to Caras Galadon, and Rumil was withdrawing further and further
into himself. He no longer spoke with others and even getting him to eat was a
continual struggle. He was slowly fading from the grief, yet he refused to
allow Syshae to heal him. His brothers and Legolas had taken to following him,
keeping watch. He gave no sign that he recognized their presence.

Syshae stepped beside him and sighed. “There will be no
comfort for Rumil for indeed he must bear part of the responsibility.”

“In what way? ’Twas not his command for Davan to leave the
safety of the trees.”

“Nay, but ’twas his command that named Davan ready for
patrol, and his command that assigned him to the southern marches—the most
beleaguered—so that they would remain together. ’Tis seldom a good idea for
lovers to patrol together when one is so young and inexperienced.”

“Perhaps, but…” Legolas trailed off, recognizing the truth
in Syshae’s words. Rumil did indeed bear some responsibility for Davan’s death.
“I had not realized.”

“Haldir knew not of the assignment. Rumil added Davan to
the patrol without informing him. As it was Rumil’s patrol, none of the others
thought to question it. And Orophin knew not until he joined the patrol the
morning of the battle, replacing another who returned to the city, and he too
thought Davan there by Haldir’s command.”

Indeed, Rumil must bear a part of the responsibility,
still a warrior made his own decisions.

“He will not allow me to heal him because he feels this
just punishment for his part in Davan’s death.”

“But his refusal is also killing Haldir and Orophin!” The
past weeks had been exceedingly difficult for all, and the stress was beginning
to show—and the worry over their younger brother was starting to tell on the
older two. Legolas felt his own control slipping “Heal him! He is in no fit
state to say ai or nay. He—”

“My gift may not be forced, Erenor. The one I heal must be
willing; their fea must accept the healing.”

Rage broke over Legolas. The cumulative effect was too
much: the horror of another elf’s death; the strain of watching Rumil grieving
so deeply, day after day retreating from Middle Earth; seeing the hurt and
concern for Rumil taking such a toll on his beloved Haldir and his friend
Orophin; Syshae’s upset at not being allowed to help.

Angrily, he strode across the clearing and jerked Rumil
roughly to his feet. “Enough! ’Tis time for this to end.” Weakly, Rumil t
to
to shove him away. Legolas tightened his grip on Rumil’s tunic. “Nay! You are a
selfish elfling, Rumil, and you have wallowed in self-pity long enough. You
have hurt others in your indulgence and it must stop. You wish to torment
yourself? Fine, you are partly responsible for Davan’s death.”

Rumil blanched and he drew in upon himself at hearing the
condemnation he had heaped on himself spoken by another. He opened his mouth,
but no sound came out.

“You are partly responsible for Davan’s death.” Legolas
repeated mercilessly. “You cannot change that. You shall bear that scar on your
fea for eternity, but shall you bear others? Do you know what your withdrawal
is doing to Orophin and Haldir? Do you see how they grieve for you? Would you
have them follow you to the Halls of Mandos?”

Rumil flinched and Legolas bored in relentlessly. “You
have not given thought to them, have you? You are sunk so deep in guilt and
self-pity that you have not seen the pain you cause them. Or is it that you see
and do not care? Are you that selfish? Would you kill your brothers to preserve
your own perverse enjoyment of this agony?”

Tears trailed slowly down Rumil’s face and he would have
collapsed to the ground had Legolas not caught him. The tears built into great
wracking sobs as Rumil at last gave vent to his grief. Legolas lowered them
both to their knees and held Rumil tenderly, rocking him gently as one would a
distraught elfling.

Syshae approached and stripped off his tunic. He knelt
beside Legolas and waited patiently until Rumil’s sobs abated enough so that he
could be heard. “Rumil, ’tis Syshae, would you accept my gift?”

Blindly, still sobbing, Rumil reached for Syshae who
gathered him into his arms.

Realizing that trying to divest Rumil of his tunic in his
current state would be an arduous task, Syshae ordered Legolas to cut it off.
When skin touched skin, he urged Rumil’s head to his shoulder and bowed his own
head, screening them with his hair.

Legolas could hear Syshae singing, but the words were too
soft to make out. He knew the fea-healer was singing for Rumil’s ears alone and
moved away to give them privacy, but remained near enough to insure none
disturbed them. He sighed in relief, thanking the Valar that Rumil had accepted
Syshae’s gift.

#

Third Age 2314

Legolas hurried into the Lord and Lady’s audience chamber.
He was late; he knew he was late. He had lingered too long on the archery
range, and too long afterward in Haldir and Syshae’s arms, and he was going to
be late for the meal Galadriel had asked him to attend. He smiled, thinking of
the afternoon’s pleasure, and his general contentment with his life in Lorien.
Trule hae had found his home; he loved the Golden Wood as if he had been born
there. The smile disappeared as soon as he stepped into the dining chamber and
saw who stood there. He wanted to scream, to run, to do anything to prevent the
inevitable, but he stood rooted to the spot, silent and motionless, as Erestor,
chief councilor of Elrond, turned and destroyed his life.

“Ah, Prince Legolas, excellent to see you again. How are
you enjoying your stay in Lorien? A far cry from Mirkwood is it not?”

Silence fell across the chamber and all eyes turned to
him. Legolas himself had eyes only for Syshae and Haldir. Confusion and
disbelief showed on both faces.

“What say you, Erestor?” Lord Celeborn did not sound
happy.

“My Lord?” Erestor was clearly confused.

“You name this elf Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, yet he has
not claimed that title.”

Erestor, clearly flummoxed, looked helplessly at Legolas
who continued to stare at Syshae and Haldir. Legolas felt the weight of the
Lord’s gaze come to rest on him.

“Is this true?” Celeborn demanded. “You are truly Prince
Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil?”

Legolas tried to speak, but no sound emerged from between
his parched lips. Nervously, he wet them and tried again. “Yes, my Lord.” The
words were spoken so quietly as to be barely audible, but Legolas felt that
Eönwë, Manwë’s herald, might as well have proclaimed them as loudly as the
trumpets of the Valar in the War of Wrath. He watched helplessly as Syshae’s
face contorted in horror, and he regarded Legolas with loathing before fleeing
the chamber, Haldir close behind.

#

The night was the most miserable of his life. Syshae and
Haldir disappeared. Word spread quickly, and thladhladhrim who welcomed him so
warmly, who he had come to regard as his own people, drew away from him in cold
silence. He passed the dark hours alone in Haldir’s talan, praying to the Valar
that his lovers would return. He prayed in vain. Morning brought a summons from
the Lord and Lady. Now, he stood miserably in the audience chamber where
everything had begun, where he had first seen Syshae and Haldir.

“You have wrought great pain with your childish game,
Prince.” Celeborn’s gaze was implacable, that of the Lady by his side no less
so. “For that, you are banished from Lorien, Legolas of Mirkwood. You shall be
escorted from these woods, never to return.”

Legolas felt hisrt frt freeze. Never to return. The
words echoed in his mind over-and-over. Painful. Taunting. Never to return.

“My Lord, I…I would ask to speak first with Syshae and
Haldir. I must explain…they must not think… Saes, allow me to try and set this
aright—”

“That is not possible. Both have gone to the southern
borders.”

The southern borders. There was no chance even of
encountering them as he was summarily escorted from Lorien, for he would be
taken north. Legolas collapsed in on himself. There was so much he didn’t
understand. How had his innocent deception led to such horrible results? He had
wished merely to escape the confines of being a prince, wished to see Lorien
freely and not be treated as an enemy because of his blood—blood that he himself
already denied.

It seemed to Legolas that the Lady softened toward him
somewhat then, her voice sympathetic when she spoke. “There shall come a day
when you pass these borders again, young prince. Great need shall drive you and
you shall find succor, and perhaps healing, here once more. Though you be
banished, go not in anger, but in the knowledge ’tis done to protect a treasure
that offers hope to all our kind.”

“Syshae,” he could barely force the name past the lump in
his throat. Once again, he saw the raw pain on Syshae’s beautifulturetures when
he discovered Legolas’s true identity.

Celeborn regarded him impassively and gestured. Two
guardians moved up behind him and ushered him from the chamber.

 

“Why?” Legolas demanded again of the silent guardian
sitting beside him on the talan where they were passing the night while on
their way to the northern border of Lorien—and Legolas’s expulsion from the
land he had grown to love.

Again there was no answer. Indeed, neither of the
Guardians escorting him had uttered a sound the whole day despite his
questions.

“What is it?” he pleaded. “I untandtand not. Saes,
Orophin, you must know. Tell me why my very blood condemns me and costs me my
loves and the goodwill of the Galadhrim.”

Silence.

“I hid my identity because I did not wish—”

Abruptly, Orophin stood and vanished down the ladder.

Defeated and miserable, Legolas flopped back on the wood
floor. Not even the sight of the stars in the sky eased the pain of his heart.
What had he done that was so terrible? True, he had hidden his name, but why
was that so horrible? He had good reason, but no one was interested, none
willing to even listen. Why had his identity caused Syshae such pain? For
Syshae was the heart of the matter, he knew. The Lady’s words to him about a
treasure that offered hope for all had revealed that. A fea-healer. Hope for
all indeed if, as the Lady’s mirror predicted—and Legolas had no doubt that it
was right—darkness threatened once again.

It was not the deception of a false name, but the revelation
of his true name that caused his expulsion. Why? he wondered for the thousandth
time. What was the tie to his name that could cause such pain in Syshae?

There shall come a day when you pass these borders again,
young prince… you shall find succor, and perhaps healing, here once more. The Lady’s words brought scant comfort. What would he
do until that day?

 

Late morning sun shone, turning Lorien into a gold haze
behind him. Legolas stared back a final time, his eyes filled with longing and
also with no little sadness and confusion. Lorien. Syshae. Haldir. A multitude
of tiny memories crowded him, fragments of conversations and scenes: the three
of them frolicking in the pools of Caras Galadhon; Haldir, his silver eyes like
molten mithril as he cried out his release; Syshae, clad only n Ithil’s light,
singing for them; shared patrols along the borders, where both Haldir and
Syshae were revealed as fierce, skilled warriors; Syshae, his exquisite
features lit with ecstasy as they took each other; Syshae, those same features
etched with agohen hen he learned Legolas’s true name.

A gentle touch on his arm startled him. He became aware
that tears streaked his cheeks. Orophin stood there, compassion in his gaze. A
horse stood beside him. Sudden anger heated Legolas’s blood. He didn’t want the
guardian’s pity or understanding. Not then. He had asked for understanding and
been rebuffed. As for pity—it was something he could never accept. He had done
no wrong, not intentionally. He vaulted to the horse’s back, anger warring with
guilt.

Orophin laid a hand on the stallion’s neck and looked up.
“Seek your answers of your father, prince.”

#

“I can say only that I believe his confusion genuine,
brother mine.” Orophin wearily passed a hand over his eyes. He had just returned
from escorting the elf he knew for two coronar as Erenor from Lorien. A prince
of Mirkwood. He sighed. Valar!

“Are you certain?” Haldir’s words were clipped.

“As far as possible. He…I…we did not speak of the matter,
for I wished not to hear his words after seeing the agony he has caused Syshae,
but he begged us to explain why. I believe he is truthful in this—that he has
no knowledge of why the revelation of his true identity caused Syshae such
pain.”

Haldir snorted disbelievingly. “Truthful? How would such a
one know truth and how could he not know of Syshae? He is Thranduil’s son! He
lied from his first day in Lorien. What would one more be?”

“He was here for over two coronar. You were lovers! Surely you would have known were his
feelings false.”

A pained look flashed across Haldir’s face at the mention
of his being the prince’s lover before he quickly hid it away behind a mask of
indifference. “I judge what he did. As for the reason… Why would he come to
Lorien? He is of Mirkwood—a prince no less. Blood of thrice-damned Thranduil
and an heir to the throne. What business would one of his kind have here?”

Haldir turned and left.

Orophin watched sadly, feeling his brother’s pain. What
business indeed? And what part had Elladan and Elrohir played in it? They had
brought Legolas to Lorien and named him Erenor. Was Rivendell somehow in league
with Mirkwood? He sighed. Dark times were indeed upon them when elf turned on
elf, and trust was so hard won and easily lost.

 

*coronar - literally 'sun-round', a name given by the Elves
to a single year

*gwador – cousin

*Iarmen – name means ‘old way’, one who follows the old
ways

*lirimaer - lovely one

*mae govannon – well met

*pen-neth - young one

*nin bain - my beautiful one

*meleth-nin - my love

*Mithaelin – name means ‘grey lake’, reflecting beauty
muted by sadness

*saes - please