Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight

Chapter XX: For Love of a Green Leaf

The lovers came down to the morning meal to find everyone awaiting them. A knowing smile lit up every face, which had the effect of making Legolas blush with embarrassment even as his heart swelled with joy. He glanced a little guiltily at Elrohir who thankfully looked none the worse for wear from their long night’s loving. The results of his considerable usage by his golden spouse had been dealt with by the liberal application of a potent medicinal salve.



The meal proved most merry what with Elladan’s suggestive asides, Elendir and Elros’ mischievous comments and Elrohir’s wicked ripostes. Legolas’ desire to crawl under a table until both sets of twins ceased their lascivious banter was hilariously palpable. By the time breakfast was over, he was rosier than the berries that had graced the table. It did not help that his parents seemed able to take the lubricious sallies in stride. Since when had they become less reserved about such matters?



An early visitor took them by surprise as they came out of the dining hall. Gandalf swept into the house, hastily greeted Elrond and Thranduil and their wives then took one look at the two reunited Elves with their arms around each other’s waist and beamed broadly. He suddenly said: “My congratulations to both of you.” He addressed Elrohir. “I confess I was a little anxious that you might not yet have recovered fully.”



“You expected this?” Elrohir said after a startled pause.



“Hoped for it,” Gandalf amended. “We have been awaiting yesterday’s advent for many a year.”



“We?”



“All the Valar and I of course.”



“But why?” Legolas inquired after a stunned while. “What was so special about yesterday?”



“Do you not recall?” Gandalf smiled. “‘Twas the same day in the same year in the last age that you and Elrohir first met under the eaves of Greenwood the Great!”



A concerted gasp answered his announcement.



“Valar! He is right!” Elladan exclaimed. “I wonder that we did not mark it.”



Ithilwen suddenly bristled. “Does this mean that you knew all along just when Elrohir would recover his wholeness?’” she demanded. “And you left my son to suffer in his ignorance of this?!”



“Peace, my lady,” Gandalf said placatingly. The woodland queen’s temper was sweet as a rule but she could be fearsome when roused to anger. “I did not inform Legolas for there was no surety at all of this. We only hoped that the import of yesterday would make its mark on Elrohir’s spirit and heal it at last.”



“Heal it?” Elrond repeated. “But healing should have been completed in the Halls of Awaiting.”



“Under normal circumstances, aye. But not when mandrake was the cause of his passing.”



Elrond stared at him in puzzlement. “He is not the first Elf to die from the untimely consumption of mandrake,” he protested.



“But he is the first Elf to have been released earlier than his appointed time,” Gandalf pointed out.



While the others stared at him in bewilderment, Thranduil spoke up. “Elrond, let us all go somewhere more private. I do not care to discuss this in the middle of your main hall.”



Elrond acquiesced and led the way to the Hall of Fire. There the Istar was immediately enjoined to explain his puzzling declaration to the gathered Elves.



“Your son is most eloquent,” Gandalf told Elrond and Celebrían. “He refused to leave Námo in peace and pleaded with him to release him soonest. Not for his own sake but out of fear for Legolas. ‘Twas this that touched Námo and moved him to permit Elrohir to return before his time. I believe only your foremother, Luthien, and Finrod son of Finarfin have stayed a briefer time in Mandos’ Halls than he.”



“But you say he was not yet wholly healed,” Celebrían pointed out. “Did Námo not know this?”



“Námo had no knowledge of the effects of mandrake upon an Elf who had stayed but a few years within his halls,” the former wizard elucidated. “The Valar may be all-powerful but they are not omnipotent. It was only when Elrohir’s memories of his binding to Legolas failed to return that we realized his spirit was still unhealed in full.” He looked keenly at Elrohir. “Once you returned to your corporeal form, the mandrake’s effect on you manifested itself in full. While it could not have turned you to Gilwen at the time you consumed it, it did have the power to block your memories of your love for Legolas. Had you not died of it, you would have eventually forgotten everything you had ever felt for him outside of your friendship.”



Legolas whitened and reached for Elrohir’s hand instinctively. The Elf-knight gripped it reassuringly in turn.



“Then it was just as well that I did not survive it,” Elrohir whispered. He smothered Legolas’ protest with a swift kiss. “To have forgotten your love would have been a fate worse than death,” he said. “Dying was not too great a price to pay for the reward of being with you evermore.”



Legolas could only mutely nod before burying himself in Elrohir’s balming arms. But he could not quite stop himself from trembling and clung tightly to his spouse.



Elrond let out a relieved breath. “Then we must be thankful matters turned out as they did,” he remarked. “But you mentioned that you were hoping for yesterday’s advent. Why would the day make such a mark when other more potent reminders did not?’’



“Because he was nearing the completion of his recovery,” Gandalf explained. “Námo sensed this but could not foresee the actual day it would happen. He hoped that Elrohir’s spirit would recognize the day he had met his beloved. Which is why he had his brother Irmo beguile Legolas into donning the colors that he wore when Elrohir decided to declare his love to him.”



Legolas stared at him. “Beguile me?”



Elladan asked him suddenly: “What did you originally plan to wear yestereve, gwanur?”—kinsman?



“A black tunic,” Legolas answered promptly. “To match my mood.”



“Then why didn’t you?”



Legolas shrugged. “I am not certain,” he admitted. “It just occurred to me that Elrohir would not be pleased to see me thus garbed.” He stopped and stared at Gandalf. “Are you implying that Irmo put the idea in my head?”



Gandalf nodded with a smile. “The Valar cannot directly control others’ thoughts or deeds. But they can manipulate events or incidents that might influence those thoughts and deeds as they desire.”



“Then all those dreams and coincidences that sparked memories...” Nimeithel began.



“Were orchestrated by the Powers,” Thranduil finished. The Elvenking shook his head in some awe. “Every time I think I know all there is to know about life, I am disabused of the notion,” he said ruefully.



“Life will always be a mystery,” Gandalf agreed. “Even to the Valar themselves.” He looked at Legolas and his returned Elf-knight again, his wizened eyes alight with felicity for them. “And now? What do you plan to do?”



“I want Elrohir to come home with me,” Legolas said abruptly. “Today.”



“Do you not wish to wait out the end of the festival, muindor?”—brother?—Nimeithel asked.



Legolas shook his head. He looked at Elrohir imploringly. “I have kept our home ready for you all these years, Aduial,” he softly said.



“We shall leave for Taur Galen at once, melethen”—my love—Elrohir replied with a tender smile.



Gandalf chuckled of a sudden. “Then I wish you good luck, Legolas,” he said. “And I hope you do not plan to do any riding tomorrow!”



Legolas blushed deeply while the others looked on in bemusement.



The reunited lovers departed with Thranduil and Ithilwen for Taur Galen as soon as Elrohir had packed enough belongings to tide him over until his parents could send the rest to him. Thranduil invited Elrond’s family to join them before the week was up. He also bade the Artirion lord to ask Glorfindel and Erestor and Elros’ betrothed, Lindir, to come along as well as Gimli and the Halflings.



“I think we can celebrate the festival far more joyously on our own now that our sons are together again,” he wryly told Elrond.



Elrond smiled and agreed. “We will come to Taur Galen soonest,” he said.

*********

The youngest prince of the Woodland Realm of Taur Galen watched his spouse as the other stood on the balcony of their bedchamber looking up at the stars with delight. He knew what Elrohir had sought and found. His grandfather’s light. In some wondrous way, Elrond and his sons were able to communicate with the Mariner as he plied the firmament in his hallowed ship. It was ever the way of the brethren to impart glad tidings to their father’s sire.



And such glad tidings they were indeed. Legolas thought back to the throng of Wood-elves that had gathered before his father’s palace to welcome the Elf-knight home. He had sent word ahead to his household staff to ready themselves for their other lord’s permanent homecoming. And for once they had thrown discretion to the wind and word had swiftly gotten around that Elrohir was at last restored to their prince.



He had almost wept when he first came to Valinor and been greeted by his father’s people but without Elrohir at his side. Now, he could barely contain his joy or keep his heart from bursting from it. And the feeling had continued throughout the day as Elrohir settled into their home then explored the forest kingdom with him, not as a well-loved friend and guest, but as his beloved mate and one of the Wood-elves’ own.



This willingness of Elrohir to cleave not just to him but to his kindred as well moved Legolas beyond description. His gesture of long ago had enabled the Elvenking to build a dwelling for his youngest son alike to the house Legolas and Elrohir had shared in lovely Ithilien. It had been his way of telling his prince that he would make his home wherever Legolas abided. Now that gesture was made true.



After a while, he rose from the couch by the hearth and joined Elrohir on the balcony. The warrior smiled a welcome at him when he felt Legolas come up behind him and slip his arms around his waist. And he grinned inwardly as he felt a telltale hardness press against his back; they were clad in naught but their thin night-robes.



“Aduial?” Legolas murmured. “Last night, you said you recalled that I was yours when you saw me in Tirion. Yet you only offered me succor when you joined me in my room.”



Elrohir turned slightly and pulled him into the curve of his arm. Legolas nestled his head against the warrior’s sleek neck. “I remembered that I had wooed you and that for a while you had yielded to me,” he said. “But not our binding. Not yet.”



“Yet you wore your ring.”



“Out of jealousy.”



Legolas lifted his head and stared at him in surprise. “You were jealous?” he gasped.



Elrohir nodded. “My motives in following you were not so noble,” he admitted. “I envied he who had won you at the last. I found I had ceased to care that we would betray your vows.” He pressed his lips against the archer’s smooth temple. “When I offered you my help, I was ready to transgress against everything I had been taught if only I could have you.”



Legolas gazed at him in some awe. This was the Elrohir of yore who had been quite capable of taking what he desired even to the extent of bending rules and wills. He shivered slightly at the thought of what might have happened had his darkling mate gone through with his intent without recalling that he alone was entitled to the archer’s favors. Perversely, it caused a thrill of anticipation to course up his spine.



“When did you finally recall everything?” he whispered.



Elrohir tucked a shining lock behind his ear, then let his finger trace the delicate curve of the prince’s ear. Faint color stained Legolas’ cheeks at the intimate caress.



“When you wept and I held you close, the memories began to surface, one by one,” Elrohir said. “Just as I recounted them to you. When I realized that you were mine all along, that I had every right to wear the ring you had entrusted to me – I was so joyful and relieved that I could only tell you the truth as it came back to me.”



He regarded Legolas musingly. For he had noted the slight shadow in the prince’s eyes since the morning. “What troubles you still, Calenlass?” he quietly asked.



Legolas sighed. “I confess I worry that – that this may be but a dream and—” He pressed closer to his mate. “I am afraid that I will wake up and find you still apart from me.”



Elrohir felt his heart ache for his golden spouse. What must it have been like for Legolas waiting all these years without the certitude of his return? While he had waited for centuries uncounted for the right moment to declare himself to the archer, he had been free to seek comfort elsewhere for his sorrow. Only when he had bound himself in secret to Legolas had that option ceased. But Legolas, widowed yet bound, alone but held to his eternal oath, could not do the same. A century of waiting was dreadful enough. Elrohir did not care to imagine what a whole millennium as Námo had originally decreed for him would have done to the archer. He would never tell Legolas this one aspect of his time in the Halls of Awaiting.



He released his spouse only to take his hand and lead him back into their room and to their wide bed. “Come, I will show you that there is nothing to fear,” he cooed to the suddenly blushing archer. “I will prove that I am restored to you evermore.”



Legolas shivered as he was disrobed and pressed down into the bed. The first time he had lain here with Elrohir, the Elf-knight had been but a child in his care. Now... He closed his eyes as his lips were caught in a searing kiss.



His hands were caught and raised and pinned to the headboard. A moment later, he started as he felt his wrists bound by something soft yet strong. His eyes snapped open when Elrohir drew away and he looked up in time to see the warrior knotting the other end of the sash of his own robe to the headboard.



“What – what are you doing?” he whispered tremulously. A hand caressed him from an outstretched arm to his chest then on to his waist and down to his hip and one thigh. He swallowed hard when he saw the grey eyes light up with a familiar wicked gleam.



“Last night was for you, my golden prince,” Elrohir murmured with the drawl that portended calamity of a different sort for Legolas. “Tonight, I wish to know you again. All of you.”



“But – but why bind me?” Legolas protested weakly. He groaned as the Elf-knight leaned down and nuzzled the side of his neck. He felt the warrior’s lips against his ear.



“That I may not be hindered by any resistance on your part, melethron”— lover—came the salacious reply.



In one fluid motion, the twin moved atop the prince, straddling his hips. Legolas found himself burning intensely as Elrohir proceeded to explore him wholly and thoroughly once more.



Elrohir took his time partaking of the bounty of delights laid out before him though deep within he was shuddering with near feral wanting. Too long had he restrained himself from sating his desire for his then unknown mate. Too long had he feigned disinterest in taking the archer to his bed.



He marked the prince’s lean arms and shoulders with crimson stains before claiming the pale column of his stately neck and throat, smiling against the sweet flesh when he heard Legolas’ needful whimpers. He silenced his mate, hungrily ravaging the prince’s mouth until the other’s lips were enticingly swollen. He drew away and grinned with satisfaction when Legolas moaningly protested the loss of contact.



He moved downwards and rapaciously nipped and suckled the archer’s nipples until the roseate nubs were achingly hard and Legolas was straining up against him. Answering his own body’s need for release, Elrohir reached between them and covetously stroked their slick and turgid lengths together. Legolas gasped then cried out. The prince was torn between bucking up into the warrior’s mauling hands and attempting to turn away to escape the almost excruciating pleasure.



“Elrohir! Please, I cannot take this!” Legolas pleaded, wriggling desperately while his bound hands kept him in Elrohir’s sensual thrall.



“But you can and you will,” Elrohir said imperiously, his own voice roughening as he neared completion. “Spend yourself with me, Calenlass. Now.”



Legolas did. Explosively.



Rendered quite drained and sated, he was in no condition to protest Elrohir’s continued ravishment. The Elf-knight paused only long enough to recover his breath before pressing on with his assault on the prince.



He pried Legolas’ thighs apart with startling impatience. The archer cried out hoarsely as Elrohir claimed him anew, plunging his tongue into him with explicit possessiveness, stroking him from within until he thought he would go mad from the joy. It was blatantly evident that Elrohir had not lost a single iota of his skill when it came to the carnal arts. Not that Legolas was complaining. Not in the least!



And then he was swallowed whole while Elbereth only knew how many fingers ably replaced the warrior’s tongue within him. He could not hold himself in for long under such edacious treatment and he spilled his release into Elrohir’s mouth, gasping sobbingly as he was summarily drained of every last drop of seed.



As he lay panting weakly, the Elf-knight took the opportunity to lick him clean of his earlier release, his lips and tongue ghosting over his belly and the delicate clefts where thighs joined groin to lap up the prince’s opalescent seed. Legolas moaned at the light but arousing sensation. The maddeningly ephemeral caresses continued down the tops of his thighs all the way to his calves and ankles and even his toes. Legolas whimpered as each was licked and sucked teasingly. He did not recall Elrohir ever having done that before!



The warrior made his way up once more, his caresses becoming more possessive, suckling at the soft flesh of the archer’s inner thighs, leaving scarlet bruises on the white skin. Onwards he moved, emphatically caressing the fair flesh in the most intimate of places, marking the woodland prince as his own. Until at last, he covered Legolas’ body with his own once more and cupped the prince’s face to capture him in another heated kiss.



Lips collided with bruising force, long limbs entangled with abandon, sable and gold mingled wantonly upon pale shoulders and snowy sheets. Their forms moved with passionate fervor upon the bed, uncaring of anything save what all senses could savor of the other. Their joint rapture flowed freely and fiercely between them, rendering them almost breathless with the ferocious intensity of it.



By the time Elrohir lifted his hips and legs, Legolas lacked the strength or will to resist anything the warrior might wish to do with him. He groaned as he was taken deeply and thoroughly. Eyes streaming from this pleasure, he could only lie helplessly as he was repeatedly speared. He had not forgotten how formidably endowed his mate was but mere memory could not compare with the actual experience of it after so long a time. When Elrohir began to stroke him as well with every thrust, he at last broke down and openly wept.



“Please... I need to hold you,” he implored between sobs.



Nearly as undone by his mate’s plea as by the exquisite sensation of his enclosing warmth, Elrohir swiftly released his hands. The prince at once reached for him and pulled him close, sealing his lips in near frantic need to the warrior’s. The exchange of thought and feeling between them coupled with their own raging pleasure completely unraveled them.



Legolas cried out against Elrohir’s mouth, echoed an instant later by the Elf-knight as they both reached the summit of their loving almost simultaneously. They held each other tightly as they rode out the results of their vigorous coupling.



In the aftermath of their union, Legolas lay back trying to catch his breath and await the slowing of his heart. Elrohir reached over and drew him close. He gazed at the warrior, taking in every fair feature in wonder and thankfulness.



“I love you so, Elrohir nín”—my Elrohir—he murmured, eyes glistening with cerulean clarity.



Elrohir smiled. “I trust you are no longer afraid?” he quietly said.



Legolas shook his head. “I am all too convinced that you are indeed restored to me,” he laughed softly. “Thank you for assuring me in so sublime a manner.”



“Do not thank me yet, Calenlass,” Elrohir said. “I am hardly done with you.”



Legolas caught his breath and stared at his mate. The twilight eyes were darkening with every passing minute. Legolas knew then that the twin’s passion was not yet spent but merely banked for the moment.



“Are you not weary?” he quavered, unsure whether he was trembling in delight or trepidation.



“Far from it,” Elrohir purred.



He shivered with delicious expectation as Elrohir leaned over to kiss him. Countless wild heartbeats later, he found himself on his side with Elrohir behind him, gasping with each delving entry into his body. Spending himself yet again into the warrior’s too skillful hands, he subsided in a limp heap, whimpering with pleasure as he felt his core blessed with the Elf-knight’s warm seed.



To his surprise, Elrohir did not withdraw from him but only held him closer in the curve of his body.



“Aduial?” he whisperingly said, turning his head to glance at his mate.



Elrohir kissed him gently and shook his head. “You always enjoyed prolonging our oneness,” he reminded the archer. “Has that changed?”



Legolas’ eyes widened. And then he smiled luminously. “You remember,” he said in a hushed voice. At Elrohir’s nod, he took another draught of the warrior’s lips. “Nay, that has not changed at all.”



He settled happily against his spouse, secure in his embrace, the knowledge and sensation of their continued togetherness erasing the last of his doubts and anxieties.



Elrohir was truly returned to him. For good.



**********

Glossary:

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)



To be continued…