Tale of Two Brothers

Title: Tale of Two Brothers, 20/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FPS, M/M Slash
Pairing: Elladan/Elrohir/Glorfindel, Erestor/Legolas
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Larian Elensar

WARNING: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings, incest, and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…

Feedback: Yes please larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Summary/Notes: Erestor has bad memories and a nightmare, Legolas and the Fellowship prepare to enter Moria, the Twins find a moment of peace.


Erestor awoke in the middle of the night to a high-pitched shrieking sound. He was bolt upright in a matter of seconds, with his hand upon the handle of his knife. He knew what that sound was, despite the over three thousand years that had passed. That sound sent chills down his spine and drained the blood from his face. That sound was one of the only things that caused fear in the heart of the Noldo. He looked around and saw Glorfindel, who was already on his feet, with his sword drawn. He leapt out of his bedroll and picked up his bow, quickly stepping next to the warrior so that they stood back to back.

He heard the low throaty growl that issued from the warrior, a sound he had hoped to never hear again, a sound that meant he was on alert and sensed danger. “How many?” his voice was a barely perceptible whisper.

“All nine.”

“They have sensed us, I mean me.”

“I know.”

The Counselor swallowed and felt his heart pound in his chest, a phantom pain raced through his body as he felt the icy breath of shadow fall upon him. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it, memories flooding back into his mind against his will. The pain, the unbelievable pain, the cold shroud of death falling upon him, that horrible, horrible sound ringing in his ears.

He felt the warrior’s steady hand upon his arm and heard his deep voice whisper reassuringly,
“Steady, meldir, they are not upon us yet. They will not take you from me, I swear it.”

He drew his bow and waited and prayed, prayed to Manwë to give him the strength not to fail, not to fall victim to them again. “I will die before I let them take me. Promise you will not let them take me, Glorfindel. Promise you will kill me before you let them take me.”

Glorfindel swalloand and closed his eyes for a brief moment before answering. “Aye, Erestor, I promise.”

His hand trembled slightly as he held his bow in firing position, scanning the tree line, watching for any movement that could be the Nine. “They are drawing away…”

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, “The Ring calls them, its call is stronger than the pull they feel toward you.”

Erestor closed his eyes and lowered his bow, “They are gone.”

The warrior let out a deep breath; only then realizing he had been holding it all that time. He turned to face his dear friend and drew him into his strong embrace. “Ai, Erestor, spending time with you is never boring.” Erestor laughed, still somewhat nervously, into the folds of the warrior’s tunic, and wrapped his arms about him, clinging tightly to him. Glorfindel pressed his lips into the Noldo’s forehead and stroked his raven locks. He stood and held his friend in the middle of their campsite, feeling him begin to tremble against him. “Ssshhh, meldir, they are gone, you are safe, it is over.”

Erestor pulled back and shook his head, as if to shake off the fear that weighed upon his heart. He smiled weakly at the warrior as he pulled his cloak around him and turned to go back to his bedroll. He climbed back inside and tried to relax, when he heard the rustle of leaves and turned to see Glorfindel spreading his own bedroll next to his. “You need not hold my hand, meldir. I will be fine.”

Glorfindel smiled and answered, “I am not here to hold your hand, ‘tis cold, I thought it might be warmer if we lay close.”

Erestor knew better, it was a weak cover up on the warrior’s part, but he appreciated his kindness just the same. He lay back down on his side with his back to the Eldar and snuggled down into his bedroll.

**Fire everywhere, thick, black, choking smoke for as far as the eye could see, blotting out the sun. The clash of metal, the screams of Elves and Men, the howling of Orcs and Wargs. His sword was dripping with black blood as he removed the head of what was surely the fiftieth Orc he had slain that day. The battle seemed endless, his limbs grew heavy from swinging his sword; he was covered in blood and filth. Glorfindel fought beside him, his golden tresses shining despite the blood that marred them. The warrior was fearsome, taking down Orc after Orc as the seemingly endless mass poured from the Black Gates.

Shrieking, horrible high-pitched shrieking. He looked up to see an enormous dragon swooping down upon them, upon its back rode one of the Nine. Men and Elfellfell in uncountable numbers as the beast swooped toward the ground, cutting a swath through the warring bodies below. He dived to the ground, only to feel the winged serpent’s claws sink into his flesh. The ground rapidly fell away from him as he growled in a mixture of pain and anger. He heard Glorfindel’s howl of rage as he was lifted into the air. He saw the warrior leaping over bodies as he chased the beast, running after him. He saw the black gates drawing near and saw four of the Nazgûl gathered near them. Another serpent swooped by them, carrying in its clutches yet another victim, this one a Númenórean. It rose over the top of the gates and flew toward Barad-dûr. ‘No, no, please, Eru let me die first!” His frightened mind screamed out. He was being taken to Sauron’s dungeons, where he knew he would be tortured until the Dark Lord had no further use for him. He heard the high-pitched whine of an arrow, his sensitive ears picked out the sound as an Elvish arrow. As it lodged in the beast’s chest he saw the pale green feathers on it’s shaft and recognized it as a Silvan arrow. In a strange moment of lucidity he found it humorous that it was one of Oropher’s soldiers that saved him. The dragon shrieked and dropped him; he fell for what seemed an age be he he finally impacted with a pile of dead bodies upon the ground. He howled in pain as he felt his left wrist give way and heard the sickening crunch as it shattered. A bright light followed by a ringing in his ears flooded his senses as his head impacted the pile of bodies. He felt the cold hand of death upon his shoulder as he was lifted to his feet. He was face to face with the Witch King, the devil’s icy gaze penetrating his very soul. He shrieked in pain as the Mordor blade pierced his chest, and fell back upon the pile of bodies once again.**

“Erestor!” The warrior shook his friend violently, “Erestor, wake! Wake, damn you! Do not do this to me now, not after all this time. Do not heed their call, please, please, Erestor, please wake!”

The Noldo’s eyes shot open and he was covered in sweat, he looked up into his friend’s gaze and began to weep. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, “Sssh… a’maelamin, ‘tis all right, I am here with you, you are safe. They are gone.” The warrior sat and rocked his friend in his arms until he felt his trembling subside. He slid inside Erestor’s bedroll with him and wrapped him in his arms, placing soft kisses upon his face. He finally fell back asleep, wrapped in his beloved warrior’s arms again.

* * * *

It was not his turn on watch; nonetheless, he could not sleep. The Prince sat cross-legged, his hands resting upon his knees, his bow by his side, and his eyes closed. He was in a sort of meditative state, his thoughts drifting toward home and toward his father. A ghost of a smile crossed his sweet lips as he pictured his father lying in his over-large bed, sleeping on his back, as was his habit, the sheets resting far down his waist. He envisioned the slow rise and fall of his beloved’s chest and the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing. He conjured his father’s scent in his mind, musky and slightly woody; he imagined his deep, soothing voice whispering in his ear. He felt the soft caress of his lips and hands upon his skin. **‘Amin mela le, Ada.’** He whispered silently.

He tensed when he heard the shrill cry of the Nazgûl and his eyes flew open. Aragorn sat up beside him and placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. “Where are they, Legolas?”

The Elf narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. He turned to his friend and whispered, “Far enough away that they have not sensed us yet. We cannot linger here much longer, Estel; if we do, they will be upon us before daybreak.”

Aragorn rose from his bedroll and gently woke his companions. The Elf stood and looked down the path which they traveled, they had been turned back from Caradhras and were heading for the walls of Moria. A chill swept through him at the thought of those mines, he had heard tell of what lived in them, and if the stories were true, they would be lucky to come out the other side alive. He had to trust in Mithrandir’s decision; the wizard had yet to lead them astray. But he could not help but feel a sense of impending doom when he thought of the mines; something, he knew not what, told him they would not all leave the mines alive.

As he and his companions made their way down the path toward Moria he kept an uneasy watch to the rear, knowing that the Nazgûl grew ever closer.

* * * *

Elladan and Elrohir lay curled against one another in their bedroll, sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. While they appeared to be deep in reverie, years of hunting Orc in the wild had trained their senses to be on alert at all times. Twin pairs of eyes snapped open when the distant shriek of the Nazgûl filled their ears. They sat up and Elrohir looked about, the horses nickered nervously, but gave no indication that they were preparing to flee.

“The Nine…” Elladan whispered.

Elrohir nodded and snuggled close to his twin, “Aye, but they are far off. I pray they have not found the trail of the Fellowship.”

Elladan nodded in agree and and nuzzled his face into Elrohir’s hair. He pressed a soft kiss to the point of his twin’s ear and heard the quiet gasp that issued from him. He felt his brother’s hand slide underneath his tunic and he smiled, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “’Tis cold this morning, gwador.” Elladan scooted closeressiessing his body to that of his twin as they lay back down in their bedroll.

Elrohir smiled and entwined his legs with his brother’s, “Aye, ‘tis very cold. We have a few hours before the sun rises, but I do not think I can fall back asleep now.”

Elladan purred quietly and softly caressed Elrohir’s ear with his lips, “Nor can I. What should we do?”

Elrohir smiled and rolled on top of his brother, “I can think of a few things, my beauty.”

Elladan smiled and gazed up into his brother’s eyes. He whispered, “Amin mela le, gwador.”

Elrohir said nothing for a few moments as he caressed his brother’s face and rocked his lower body against him. “So beautiful…” he whispered. Elladan caught his brother’s thumb as it caressed his full lips, drawing it inside and suckling it as Elrohir moaned quietly. “You undo me, Elladan.” He whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to his brother’s eagerly awaiting lips. He felt Elladan’s hands travel into his hair, softly tugging at the thin leather strap that held his braid in place. He moaned against his brother’s mouth as Elladan combed his fingers through his hair, causing it to fall around their faces like a veil.

“I want you, Elrohir…” Elladan whispered. His lips traveled to his brother’s ear as he felt Elrohir’s hands unlacing his tunic and sliding underneath the soft, silk undershirt he wore. He nibbled his brother’s earlobe, as he felt his strong warrior’s hands caress his chest, and he rocked his hips up into him as he felt Elrohir’s arousal press into his own. He began to whimper softly, drawing his tongue along the outside of his lover’s ear and sliding his hands down his strong back and over the swell of his buttocks. He inserted a hand between them and unlaced his leggings, freeing his swollen length, then unlaced his brother’s and pulled his heavy length free.

They thrust against one another; slowly at first, then faster as their desire reached a more fevered pitch. Elrohir held himself off his brother, propping his weight up on his elbows as he pressed his forehead into Elladan’s. Elladan spread his legs, wrapping one around Elrohir’s waist as he thrust up to meet his brother, soft, hot friction building between them. He arched his back and cried out as he found his release, the milky essence of his seed spilling between them. Elrohir found his release soon after, groaning into his beloved’s ear and coming to rest upon him. Elladan whispered, “Ai, Elrohir! You are making a mess of yourself.”

Elrohir chuckled softly, “I do not care, a’maelamin, I am covered in filth and Orc blood anyway.”

Elladan purred into his brother’s ear, “Amin mela lerohirohir.”

Elrohir sighed and buried his face in his brother’s neck, “Amin mela le, Elladan.”

They curled against one another again and found sleep before they had to rise.


To be continued…