Feud

Title: Feud
Author: Nárcolindë, robey61@yahoo.com
Pairing: Legolas/Elrond
Rating: NC17 overall
Warnings: AU, OOC
Disclaimer: Characters, events and locations recognizable from the works of JRR Tolkien are the property of his estate. This story is intended for enjoyment, not profit.

Summary: Morning-after angst.

Thanks: First to all the loyal readers who enjoy this story, most especially reviewers! Second, to my absolutely fantastic new beta, Sarah, whose careful attention and insight improves the quality of this story immensely!

Chapter 21: Abross [After the Rain]

Rather than offering a respite from the searing summer sun, the overarching limbs and branches of the forest prevented the rising heat of the muggy air from escaping into the bordering meadows. Below the canopy the wearing of the day caused the temperature to steadily climb and in turn coaxed more moisture out of the ground until the invisible gases became nearly tactile.

The thick and sweltering atmosphere was burdened and redolent with the dank fumes of waterlogged earth and decaying wood. Sultry scents emanated from exotic blooms caught amid the statuesque timbers and dangling down from creeping vines that swayed against the ground when a rare puff of a wind stirred the duff. Under the torrid hand of the sweating woods, living things slowed to sluggish subsistence and bare endurance during the simmering mid-summer's morn.

For the two Noldor interlopers within the steaming sauna it was becoming progressively uncomfortable to breathe the cloying air and the exertion this normally reflexive action required was draining. They were unused to the higher altitude, the excessive heat, the burdensome humidity, and the rugged conditions; preferring the domestication of the open yet protected lands beyond the Misty Mountains. It was obvious that Elrond and Erestor were more accustomed to being the hosts than the wayfarers and had not packed appropriately for the climate.

The two elves had spoken little since the argument at dawn and now were silently repacking their belongings in preparation to removing to the larger talan where their Sylvan companion still slept. Neither had bothered to put on boots or shirts or tunics, as the oppressive heat was hardly bearable even as scantily clothed as they were.

Elrond had self-consciously bathed with the drinking water and Erestor noted he carefully folded and sequestered this cloth within his pack separately, as though to use it later, and this served to underscore the cold brutality of his earlier words. At last all was ready and without comment they hefted their bns ans and Legolas' weapons and set out upon the branchway.

Erestor knew the way as well, having been gifted with the vision of the location previously, yet out of deference he followed Elrond. As they came closer, he noted the tarpaulin stretched between the poles and the tree and could not help giving a sniff of indignation and an icy glare when Elrond glanced back. Elrond shook his head slightly and stepped down onto the platform carefully, not certain how deep the Tawarwaith reposed. He heard Erestor's step behind him and moved further onto the talan to allow him room, but the seneschal halted where he was as his senses registered the proof of the early morning's activities.

The musky odor of their coupling hung in the air, escaping into the close atmosphere from the blankets, remaining trapped under the tarpaulin by the lack of wind and the sticky heat. Legolas lay motionless and naked, stretched out in much the same pose he had adopted on the two previous occasions that Erestor had observed his rest. This upset Erestor for reasons he could not quite define. Legolas looked very fragile this way and it jarred with what he thought he knew about the feral elf. He was angry, or perhaps it was merely disappointment over having lost his opportunity to experience such a passionate encounter with the wild elf.

He shook his head, disgusted with his own self-deceit, for he knew very well that had nothing to do with it at all. He had, in spite of his determination to scorn the lowly backwoods moriquendi, found much to admire in the Wood Elf. He had even found qualities worthy of respect, and did not like to think of such a one being used. Of course, he would have been willing to use him just a short time ago, and this added to his unease. It rankled even more to accept that his Lord, worthy of esteem for his own nobility, was the one who would bring the unsuspecting elf down. It was not the sort of behavior he tended to associate with Elrond.

Erestor sighedr thr that too was false. He had known of the situation with Ningloriel right from the start, and had never felt much of a twinge knowing Elrond did not love her with the same intensity that she extended that emotion. Yet, Ningloriel had always understood who she was dealing with and had her own agenda. The true depth of her emotional involvement was limited by her own self-centered disposition. Her son did not even have an agenda that Erestor could determine.

And there was that, too; the very fact that he was Ningloriel's child made the seneschal's skin crawl a bit. It was indecent, somehow, to lie with the child of one's former lover. Not that Legolas was a child by any means, yet it did not set right in his mind. Ever hovering was the belief that the archer was very likely Elrond's child as well, and this made the lies about the Elf Lord's identity a breach of trust that could never be forgiven should it come to light. Unable to clarify his reasoning beyond these impressions, Erestor set his things aside near the wooden box as quietly as he could. He watched to see if the archer would stir, but he remained quiet and somehow this bothered him more.

Elrond was busy on the other side of the talan and did not appear to be paying any attention to his lover. Erestor realized he was going through Legolas' quiver, which had two or three internal pockets or divisions in which he separated various necessary items from his arrows. He watched a moment as flint and arrowheads were removed and set aside, followed by the dagger. He watched as a carefully folded and much worn piece of parchment was drawn forth. Elrond started to open the note but Erestor quickly stepped around the prone archer and snatched the paper away from his Lord, sending him a look of deepest disapproval as he refolded and replaced the letter.

"That is too much! He is unlikely to have any information we can use contained there!" he hissed and returned then to his own things, ignoring the look of absolute astonishment on the Elven Lord's features.

"Do not pretend you are not curious! You would like to know who would write an outcast, banished elf a note such that he would keep it when all else he owns is of practical necessity!" Elrond snapped in self-justification, but Erestor pursed his lips and glared through slitted eyes at his Lord and shook his head firmly.

"I am not curious! Even knowing him so little, I can assume it must be from his mother! If he was treasured within a lover's heart, would he be out here alone?" he scoffed and pointedly turned aside as he drew out his journal from his pack. Settling himself against the box and facing the archer's back, he began to sketch Legolas' recumbent form, keenly aware of the dusky scent of semen permeating the wood supporting him.

Elrond found his conscience reeling from that simple statement and his eyes fell upon the sleeping elf. Even in rest he was not at peace, and the heavy air was overlaid with a sensation of restlessness and agitation as though these emotions peeled off the archer's bare skin with every breath he exhaled. He watched the fallen warrior's eyes, wandering in dream, as the feelings swirled through them, and Elrond nearly wished he would close them again so as to conceal the anguish they exposed. The Elf Lord looked back to his seneschal, but he was engaged in his drawing and did not bother to acknowledge his Lord's regard.

It was the perfect proportions of that body that drew the eye, Erestor thought as he rapidly captured the gentle S-shaped posture of the nude elf on paper. One arm stretched above his head cradled it, the other lay dangling over his side, fingertips barely resting against his navel, though this he could not confirm from his present vantage. One leg, bent at the knee towards his chest, prevented him from rolling over onto his stomach while the other rested in a more or less straight line with his spine.

For the first time, Erestor observed a braided lock of dark auburn hair twisted around that foot, clinging around the middle-toe, criss-crossing over the deceptively delicate arch, and finally wrapped twice about the slender ankle and tied off with a strand of leather lacing. He sketched it in detail, wondering whose hair was such a treasured memento. The position of the legs eased the sharp angles of the lean and muscular body, he noted, calling attention to the softer curves of the buttocks.

Erestor abruptly stopped his quill upon the parchment sheaf as he gazed there and observed the dried track of the blood that had run down to stain Legolas' leg and the blanket as well. He tightened his lips in an acrimonious scowl as he looked back over to find Elrond's eyes upon him. The two elves remained locked in a silent discourse, Erestor accusatory and Elrond apologetic, for several seconds before Erestor cursed under his breath and slammed shut the journal with a loud slap.

Legolas jumped; his head came up and he tried to roll up to his feet, but abruptly he stiffened and cried out. He lowered himself back down carefully and did not move as he tried to relax his body to ease the pain, dropping his head back onto his arm with a weary groan. Elrond went to his side and consolingly caressed his shoulders.

"Best not to move so suddenly, Legolas. I will get my medicinal pack and see what can be done, alright?" he said quietly and the suffering elf just nodded. It did not take Elrond long to find what he needed and he set to work as gently as he could.

With elaborate care he used the remaining contents of his waterskin to clean away the blood and semen, even as he had boasted that he would, and tucked the soiled cloth safely away.

This action was not lost to Erestor's notice, and he made a disgusted face and averted his gaze. But his eyes were drawn back in spite of himself by the sound of Legolas strenuously filling his lungs. He did not cry out but it was obvious he was in acute distress as his breathing was rapid and shallow and his hands were rigidly balled into the blankets beneath him.

Elrond did not speak, instead concentrating on being as thorough and quick as possible. He was somewhat concerned that the injuries did not seem to have closed over much during the intervening hours. He used a salve that would protect against infection while easing pain and soothed it liberally inside Legolas. Scrupulously examining the extent of the damage as he applied the medicine, Elrond seemed not to notice the increased tempo of his patient's pulse. Eventually Legolas gasped and sought to draw away as the fingers pressed in too deep for him to bear.

"Enough!" he rasped hoarsely, his throat constricted in his effort not to cry out in his discomfort, and Elrond cautiously withdrew his fingers. Legolas exhaled and slumped down, and only then did the Noldor understand how stringently tense he had held himself during the treatment.

He was drawing deep chest-fulls of air, face pressed against the woolen blanket and eyes screwed shut, trying to command his senses to accept the pain washing through him in virtually visible waves. After several minutes his respiration eased and Erestor got up and passed the waterskin to him. Legolas took it from him, startled, for he had not noticed the other elf at all. He pulled the blanket over his body self-consciously before he drank, and closed his eyes when he laid the canteen aside, not knowing where to look just yet. Erestor retrieved the container and retreated to his previous spot as Elrond resumed rubbing the younger elf's back. After some time, Legolas drifted into uneasy sleep, and Elrond dared a glance over his shoulder to Erestor.

The expression he saw there was anything but admiring, and Elrond found it unpleasant to be the subject of such staunch disapproval. First he had willingly used an innocent for his own selfish motives, revealing himself to be veng and and bitter, and now he must seem an appalling brute to his colleague. The Lord of Imladris was unused to being the object of disdain among his peers, and did not like it. He swallowed, realizing he had to set things right with his old friend if their efforts here were to yield any benefit. He could not bear the thought of Erestor believing he had deliberately harmed Legolas to spite his enemy.

"Berenaur!" he whispered and his seneschal's eyes flashed a sneer of contempt.

"Yes, my Lord, what is it?" he murmured back caustically. He had already determined that he could not call Elrond by the name Erestor, and so had decided to address him only with the title of respect when Legolas was near, and he was no longer certain this tribute was deserved.

"It is not how it seems! He wanted things this way!" Elrond tried to explain and Erestor's look of incredulity spoke for him. "I am serious; he would not be denied," Elrond continued, turning to face his friend as he crouched next to Legolas. "It is not the first time he has been taken thus; he is scarred deeply inside!" The seneschal still looked doubtful, yet at least he was listening.

"Are you mad? No one could want to know such pain!" Erestor whispered back.

"I would not lie about such a thing! He would not be refused and made his desires known quite insistently!" Elrond continued. "He has known that pain often, from my estimation. In fact, upon considering it, I would have to say he has never known anything else."

The Lord of Imladris suddenly rose and went to sit down next to Erestor, staring at Legolas' inert body, for it was the first time he had allowed his healer's assessment of the internal damage to make itself utterly clear to him. The Noldor looked at one another, both encountering similar expressions of horrified dismay on the other's face.

"Why? What in the Name of Iluvatar does that mean?" Erestor could not contain his indignation and panic at such a statement. It was positively inconceivable for him to associate any sort of discomfort with sex, and he found that the idea was vaguely frightening to him in addition to being disgusting. He knew the sexual tastes of some leaned towards the macabre, yet he was normally able to shield himself from ever really having to think about that sort of thing. He could not reconcile the two concepts within his mind: the exquisite sexual allure of Legolas and a craving suc such wrenching agony.

Elrond was shaking his head slightly and allowed his eyes to rove over his lover's body slowly, remembering the frenzied lovemaking they had shared. It was rd trd truth to face; he had enjoyed it, all of it. Legolas' pain had magnified his pleasure, allowing him to indulge his darkest urges without restraint.

"I do not know why or how, but that is what I sense when I touch him," the Elf Lord said quietly.

Erestor shivered involuntarily and shifted slightly so that he could sit facing Elrond, crossing his knees under him. This took him closer to Legolas and he reached out, unthinking, and lightly touched the golden locks arrayed upon the wooden deck. With Legolas' back to the Noldor, they failed to notice that his eyes sharpened in focus the ant ant his hair was touched. He kept all hint of his consciousness hidden and listened to what passed between his companions.

"This plan no longer seems so carefree, my Lord," Erestor said defying Elrond. "What may result from this?" But Elrond had considered the situation and was already able to rationalize his actions and his scheming.

"Nay, whatever has happened to him was none of our doing, my friend. He has been this way a long number of years, and I can assure you his life is not in jeopardy, though he is suffering under some long-held grief and the strain of exhaustion."

"Then all the more reason to abandon this course! We must find another way to achieve our objective!" The seneschal gripped a handful of the twisted tresses within his fingers tightly as he spoke and Legolas tried desperately not to respond to the tug.

"My dear friend, you are beside yourself!" Elrond was surprised and looked askance at his loyal countryman. Erestor shifted uncomfortably and glanced back at the motionless elf next to him, noticing his hand was tangled in the shimmering yellow strands. He yanked his fingers back as though from a serpent's fangs and his features contorted as if from pain.

"What is he doing so close to Dol Guldur? Why does he offer himself as bait merely to trap and kill a few Orcs among hundreds? If he is banished, why then does he not leave this accursed place and settle elsewhere?" Erestor fumed.

The whole situation in which Legolas existed seemezarrzarre to him, and he knew subconsciously that what disturbed him so was that death was lurking all around the Wood Elf. In a strange dance he could not comprehend, Legolas was both pursuing and repelling his demise. Erestor shivered again.

Elrond narrowed his eyes and glanced down at the subject of their discussion and said nothing, peering closely at the rise and fall of the archer's shoulders. Erestor followed his gaze and raised questioning brows at the Elf Lord upon noticing no change. Elrond glanced up and gave his seneschal a meaningful look, and resumed his scrutiny. Their silence stretched into minutes while Legolas hoped the conversation would resume.

He sensed the eyes upon him and sighed just slightly, realizing that he must have given himself away, though he could not think how. Possibly being a healer made his lover more astute in observing one's state of alertness. Legolas shifted, lifting up onto one elbow so he could glare over at Berenaur. He had not forgotten the humiliating things the Noldo had done to him. They regarded one another wordlessly for several seconds before Legolas spoke.

"Would you hand me the water, please?" he asked simply and Berenaur almost laughed to hear the mundane request, and smiled nervously as he complied. Legolas drank deeply but did not return the smile when he handed back the leather flacon. He then slowly began to draw himself into a more upright position, grimacing against the sharp twinges lancing through his lower body.

His lover instantly came to his side to assist and Legolas at first thought to push him away. He was too tired, however, and hurting with a throbbing persistence that only grew worse the more he moved about. Why should he not relent and take advantage of the other's presence? He allowed himself to be eased into a reclining position against his lover's chest, grabbing the blanket just in time to keep himself covered, and did not protest when strong arms encircled him to hold him there. He looked up to find the Elf Lord's concerned eyes studying him, and offered a half-hearted smile. Legolas relaxed as much as possible and settled himself such that the pain was no more than a dull aching. He returned his glowering eyes to Berenaur and let them stay there. At last the seneschal cleared his throat.

"I realize I owe you an apology. I am truly sorry to have allowed my base desires to get the better of me. Normally, I am not so lascivious!" he said quickly and awkwardly but Legolas' features only grew darker.

"Are you saying I am to blame, then?" he demanded, half rising from his comfortable position, but Elrond held him tight.

"Nay! I do not mean that at all! I mean that I, well I normally do ask first and I . . ."

"So then you are saying I am not someone you need take the trouble to ask? I am just here for your gratification, whenever the mood strikes you?" Legolas cut in indignantly and again his lover had to hold him back to prevent him from moving.

"I mean nothing of the kind! Sweet Elbereth's tit! You put motives to my actions I never intended!" the Noldo objected and threw his hands up in defeat. "Please, hear me!" he pleaded. "I beg your forgiveness, that is all I can do! I was wrong in every way and regret my actions more completely than you can know!"

"You were touching my hair," Legolas growled, and Berenaur felt his face flush in confusion as he started to shake his head in dissent. This infuriated Legolas more and Elrond had to tighten his firm grasp around his shoulders to stay him. "Do not deny it! I felt it; that is what woke me just now! Ever as I trysleesleep you put you hands upon my person!"

"Peace, Legolas! He did not even realize he had laid a hand on your hair! I was watching him the whole time and I assure you this is so!" Elrond attempted to soothe his lover and Legolas did ease back into a less tense configuration. His eyes continued to bore into Berenaur's with cold wrath, however, and the Noldo looked away, aware again of the deeper emotions there behind the cover of anger. He recognized them now: pain and fear and sorrow.

The silence was uncomfortably thick.

But Legolas did not have the energy or the will to continue to feed his anger, and he could see clearly that Berenaur was being truthful. He had also heard him arguing against whatever plot they were up to, as though from concern for him! There was something in the Noldo's eyes that reminded him of the way Malthen used to look at him sometimes. Legolas had always thought it an odd mixture: deep regret and honest admiration, and always the heat of desire. He decided to forgive him.

"I thought I told you before not to talk about me in foreign words!" Legolas rebuked, directing this irritated comment to Elrond, and transferred the slicing gleam of his fiery gaze to the noble Lord's face. Elrond raised a single brow and stared back, but the Wood Elf was bold and refused to back down. Erestor enjoyed a loud chuckle as his Lord groaned and rolled his eyes skyward in exasperation.

"So you did! We owe you yet another apology! A thousand times we must beseech and plead mercy from you, O Lord of Rhovanion! And exactly how long were you lying there eavesdropping, pen-rhovan?" he demanded in mock irritation and his flippant humour served to break the tension beneath the canvas canopy. Legolas smirked a wry grin.

"Long enough to wonder if all the Noldor use the High Tongue for everyday speech, so often do I catch you at it!" he countered. "Surely all your conversations cannot be secrees!\es!" At this he felt his lover's body shaking with mirth and looked up again as the smooth laughs broke from his lips. "What is so funny, Erestor?" he asked.

For half a second the seneschal thought he was being addressed, before remembering their scheme. Of course, it was to Elrond the feral elf directed this comment.

"I was thinking that we are well matched as guardians of our respective secrets, for while we two may converse in a foreign tongue, you converse only with trees!" the Elf Lord replied.

"I have no secrets to hide for these are my lands, after all, and what can be unusual in wanting to cleanse them of the evil advancing from Dol Guldur," Legolas said and frowned at this comparison, looking from one to the other of them. After a few moments' consideration he spoke again. "If you must know, I am here at the request of Mithrandir; there is nothing secretive about it. I am trying to learn what I may about the Nazgul that are in residence in my woods!" he said solemnly.

The Noldor's eyes met above the Wood Elf's head in amazement. Could it truly be so easy as this to discover what they sought?

"What have you learned? Do you know why they are here?" Berenaur spoke, breathless with expectation, for this was at the heart and soul of their own concerns. Legolas shook his head.

"I know not why they plague us. What I am trying to do is determine a way to be rid of them!" This reply prompted another shared glance of obvious surprise and this time Elrond voiced his disbelief.

"It is impossible to be rid of them; they cannot be killed! Why would Mithrandir suggest such a thing to you? Have you broken some laws of the Istari in addition to those of your own people, that the wizard should want you dead as well?" He felt Legolas cringe at these words and regretted them instantly as his lover tried to pry his arms off him to get out of his embrace.

"Nay! You are wrong, none want me dead! What makes you say this?" he cried and wriggled out of Elrond's hold, momentarily losing his blanket and snatching it back up as he crawled away from the other elves, stopping only when the edge of the platform forestalled further retreat. He was breathing hard from the pain the effort cost and looked from one to the other, stricken and angry. "It is a lie! Why do you say this?"demademanded desperately and the Noldor exchanged worried yet bewildered looks.

"I think it was not meant so literally," Berenaur tried to alleviate some of the elf's obvious distress. "It is just that this is a dangerous place to call home," he said in what he hoped were consoling tone
Le
Legolas shot him a look the seneschal could not interpret beyond a deep sense of misery as he cast his eyes about the talan, searching. He found his objective and stretched out to retrieve his breeches, shucking them on under the blanket and yanking hard on the knot he pulled at the waist. With only a slightly stilted gait to betray the discomfort still assailing his body, he rose and strode over to where his weapons rested.

"Legolas." said Elrond, but received no response as the archer strapped down the quiver. Legolas' vision clouded in stormy wrath when he noted several items displaced from their former positions within it. Scooping back up the flint and dagger, he left the arrowheads lying there. His eyes slashed the air between them with seething rage as they finally met his lover's. He snatchp hip his bow.

"Wait." Elrond tried to be calm, keeping his voice low, but as before Legolas ignored him. In a single leap he was up above them and in minutes he was gone from the tree and darting away through the canopy without disturbing so much as a leaf in his passing.

A few moments elapsed while the Noldor registered the events and then Erestor shoved Elrond hard on the shoulder.

"What is the matter with you, sitting there?" he yelled. "Go! Follow him!"

Elrond stared open mouthed at his friend then shut his jaws with an audible click as his molars connected. "It is not possible; there is no way to know where he has gone! Besides, he clearly is upset and wishes to be alone!"

"Are you being deliberately slow and insensitive?" demanded Erestor. "He does not want to be alone, no matter how much he thinks he does! That remark cut right through him, now go fix things!"

"What suddenly makes you an authority on what he wants?" Elrond dema unc uncomfortably, but rose to his feet as he spoke, gazing out into the forest towards the direction of Legolas' flight. "I will never find him; he moves too fast and cannot be tracked!"

"Nonsense; the trees will tell you where to go. He was right, they do watch over him and accept your connection to him."

This statement drew a bewildered expression onto the Elf Lord's features as he looked at his old friend. "How could you possibly know that?" he demanded.

"What difference does that make right now?" Erestor impntlyntly waved away the inquiry. "What are you stalling for? You made sure to be the one to have sex with him, now you will have to deal with the responsibility," he warned.

The seriousness of these words alarmed Elrond.

"What are you talking about, Erestor?" he almost shouted in frustration. "I am not bonded to him, for Elbereth's sake! Do not be so histrionic!"

Erestor frowned and solemnly shook his head.

"Well, we will just see what his Tawar thinks about that!" he intoned gravely and tossed Elrond his dagger.

They stared together another moment more before Elron las last moved off into the branches, glancing back one last time at his old friend exp expression between disbelief and dread etched upon his countenance.

Erestor watched him go, breaking down into peals of soft laughter as soon as he determined he was beyond earshot. That, he thought, had been fitting revenge for his earlier mistreatment at the Elf Lord's hands!
Tbc