Road to Redemption

Redemption (43-44/50)

Author: Gwaelinn
Beta: Aglarien
Type: FPS
Pairings: Lindir/Maglor, Erestor/Maedhros, Elladan/Rúmil and others
Rating: NC-17-R overall
Warnings: Slash (m/m),
Time line: AU (not really connected to the actual timeline of the books)
Disclaimer: All characters and locations are the sole property of Professor Tolkien’s Estate. This is written only for pleasure and not for profit.
Author notes: The little plot bunny popped up while listening to Loreena McKennit’s The Old Ways. Somehow, the song just screamed ‘Maglor’.

**A special thank you to my dear TuxedoElf for giving me the perfect symbol to work with…It is an emblem worthy of Lord Námo! Thanks Luv, ~G


Chapter 43

A golden head appeared from within the dark hood and a sword tip tapped impatiently on the apothecary’s chest. A beautiful, if devilish, smile graced a handsome face and green eyes sparked with age-old wisdom and mischief.

“So, tell me, *meldir*, what business do you have behind the stables here?”

“I, uh…well…that is…”

“Come now, penneth; spit it out.”

The elf kicked at the dirt, uncertain how to answer. Casting a nervous glance about the area, he stammered, “I, hmm I am waiting for someone.”

“Ah, I see. Well then I regret to inform you that your companion will not be arriving. I would strongly recommend that you just turn yourself around and find something less…sinister…to occupy your time.” The blond flicked his sword towards the path leading away form the main house. Not daring to hesitate, the elf scampered off into the darkness.

Gildor smirked. That ellon would crumble at the first sign of trouble. He wondered what Legolas had had planned. What ever it was, it was obvious the young Mirkwood prince was not thinking clearly…or more likely, at all. He smiled thinking of the visit he had received earlier and the promise of love everlasting. He hoped the Great Huntsman was correct.

*****

Legolas took extra care with his preparations. Everything was set. All that was left was to pick up the Belladonna. After tonight, they would all be sorry and he would finally be at peace! Nothing could go wrong. He would dazzle them tonight, make them see him as he truly was and then in the morning…Yes, this plan was perfect.

“You dishonor your kin, little prince.”

Legolas spun, knife drawn. “Who dares enter my room and insult me so?” He growled at a shadow in the corner.

The shadow glided into the light. The Mirkwood Prince gasped. Before him stood the most beautiful elf he had ever dreamt of. Tall and lean with hair like pitch and fathomless eyes. The robes spoke of nobility. This was no ordinary elf.

“What do you want?” He asked the stranger, lifting his chin is defiance. The so-called elf came to stand before Legolas. The first thing the young prince noticed was the chill that permeated the air around the elf. Next he noticed the clasp holding a dark cloak in place. “Do I know you?” he questioned with a quivering voice.

The elegant vision before him gave a lopsided grin. “No, but I know your grandfather and your mother. More importantly, I know who you are and what you plan.”

“I now not of what you speak.” Legolas said with a confidence he did not feel.

“Do not lie to a Vala, penneth. It is an unwise decision. You also never meddle in those things the Valar have set in motion by the will of Ilúvatar and you DEFINITELY do not meddle with life and death!”

Legolas paled. A chill ran down his spine as he dropped to his knees. “Lord Námo.” He whispered, head bowed, fear coursing through him.

“Lindir is and has always been distained for Maglor. Nothing you can do will change that. What you plan will damn your fear. Why risk that? There is joy and beauty in the world around you. You have just lost sight of that. I will not let you throw away your immortality. Your associate has been dealt with. The Valar will to intervene again. If you continue on this path it will lead to your demise. Be happy for your friend and the love he has found.” The Doomsman stood to his full height and looked down at the trembling elf. Despite what the races believed, Namo’s touch did not mean certain death. To the contrary, his was a touch of peace. As he placed his hand on the crown of Legolas’ head it was as if a veil had been lifted. The beautiful Vala continued, “I will send one to show you the beauty and teach you what it means to be a true prince of elves.

Tears dripped down the pale cheeks as Legolas kept his head bowed. He could see the malice in his recent actions. He really did not want to cause Lindir pain. The truth was he was jealous of the love between the minstrels. The Sindar elf wanted to know a love like that, too. He did not want to marry the elleth and felt trapped by duty, by life. He had become estranged from his father as the years had progressed. He was angry that his mother had left him. He felt betrayed by his betrothed for choosing love over duty and angry with himself for not being more understanding. It could have worked out for them; they could have reached an agreement that worked for all involved. Instead he retreated and became someone he did not recognize…someone who would take his own life just to show them…no, just to make the hurt go away.

Námo gently lifted the prince’s chin. “Do not weep, little one. Your mother left to be with the one her soul cried out for. You would have known that had you confided in your father and given him a chance to explain. Theirs was a complicated relationship built on respect and love. One can love more than one elf, but there is only one mate for the soul. There is such a love for you, I promise. Return to that beautiful child your mother loved so much, accept your father and the love he has for Elrond…as your mother does.” Námo smiled reassuringly. “You were a happy child once with an enormous heart once.”

“How…how will I know this love?”

Námo winked and began to fade into the shadows. “Tonight it will begin. He will be there.” The Vala vanished. Legolas’ heart sang out at the word ‘he’, for he truly did not wish to be with an elleth. Then as a wave of emotions crashed over him. He cried as he had not since his mother passed.

*******

Elladan knocked on Rúmil’s door twice before trying the handle. Entering the chamber, he heard splashing for the bathroom. The image that flashed through his mind made him hard. He wanted to join his lover, but he had already gone through the painstaking chore of braiding his hair. He had no desire to redo them. Instead, he sat down in a chair facing the washroom door. Elladan waited silently.

Sometime later, Rúmil emerged with only a towel for covering. “You really should lock the door before bathing,” the twin said. The archer spun around, dropping his towel in his shock. Elladan groaned at the sight before him. Small water drops ran over the sculpted muscles, shimmering like little diamonds. The dark haired elf’s legging got uncomfortably tight, and when Rúmil bent to pick up the towel, Elladan thought he would spend himself right then.

Rúmil did not miss the effect he was having on the older elf. Getting a wicked idea, the Silvan elf tossed the towel on to the bed and headed for his wardrobe. He opened it without a word and removed the garments for the evening. He laid them on the bed and made no move to dress. Instead he moved to the vanity, sat before the mirror and began to comb through his hair.

Elladan moaned as he watched lean muscle move beneath the creamy skin. His member throbbed. The twin leaned back and stretched out his legs, hopping to alleviate some of this discomfort. It did not help. Rúmil took his time combing through his silver tresses, listening intently to the nearly silent sounds coming from his lover. Elladan’s breathing was shallow and small moans and sighs slipped from his lips. It took all of Rúmil’s control not to become aroused. It was not time yet.

Getting up, he paraded across the room to retrieve a glass of water. He took slow deliberate sips, always making sure that Elladan had a good view. Setting the glass down, he stretched and returned to the vanity to braid his hair. He never spoke or looked directly at his lover. He did not need to.

Elladan watched with growing arousal. His hand slid over the bulge, massaging it as he watched the erotic sight before him. When that was no longer enough, he pushed aside the layers of fabric and unlaced his leggings. There was some relief when his shaft sprang free of the confines but it was short lived. Rúmil, with a mischievous smile, dropped one of his hair ties and had to bend over to retrieve it.

“Oh gods Rúmil,” whispered Elladan, once again presented with two twin globes just begging to be caressed and licked. Rúmil continued to ignore his guest. As much as the Imladrian elf wanted to touch the vision before him, he found himself unable to move, captivated as he was. Reaching for his member, Elladan began to stroke himself. Gods he wanted Rúmil to be doing this to him; he wanted Rúmil’s hot mouth to devour him. His movements sped up and he began to thrust into his own hand. With a cry of completion he thrust one last time before sliding boneless to the floor, his back resting against a chair. Rúmil turned to see his spent lover and heat pooled in his groin. Elladan lay there resting his back against the wall, panting, covered in his own seed. The two locked eyes and with cat like movements, Rúmil approached.

“That will teach you to enter uninvited,” the silver haired elf said, standing astride Elladan’s outstretched legs. Elladan looked up at the satisfied smirk gracing Rúmil’s face. With a grin of his own, he leaned forward and licked up the inside of the guardian’s thigh. Before Rúmil could move, he found himself trapped by two strong hands on his arse and an erotic tongue licking the junction between thigh and groin. The younger elf felt his shaft grow as a wicked tongue lapped at the soft sacks beneath it. Rúmil’s hands began stroking the ebony head between his legs. His head was thrown back and moans of pleasure tumbled from his lips. Carefully sliding between the mounds of flesh, Elladan’s finger began to circle and tease the puckered opening.

Rúmil spread his legs farther apart. Leaning over his lover, he braced his hand on the chair’s arms. This allowed his lover to suck his now weeping member into his mouth. The silver haired elf gripped the chair arms and panted as his body was ministered to. He felt a finger slide in and out of his tight passage. The mouth which engulfed him moved at the same slow rate, making the young elf begin to whimper. When two fingers entered him, he thrust back. While this took care of the need to be full, it removed much of himself from his lover’s mouth. Rúmil groaned in frustration until his knees nearly buckled. Elladan had brushed that special spot within his channel and white-hot sparks traveled through his body.

Letting the velvet shaft slip from his lips, Elladan looked up into the lust filled gaze of his lover. “Like that, do you?” He thrust a third finger in, now touching the bundle of nerves with each thrust. “Tell me. Do you like this?” he demanded.

Rúmil panted. “Oh, Elladan! Aye, yes…yes I like it.”

“Would you like me to taste you?” the twin asked in a husky voice.

“Aye, I beg you, please.” Rúmil looked down at his lover. “Devourer me, melethron. Taste what I give.”

The dark head returned to the bobbing length before him. He teased and licked and nipped until finally taking it wholly into his mouth. Elladan began to move his head back and forth, mimicking the thrusting of his fingers. He felt the delectable body tense before swallowing the seed that shot down this throat. One last thrust of his fingers and he withdrew them. Exhausted and spent, Rúmil dropped to his knees and felt loving arms hold him tight. Never had he dreamed of something so exciting or erotic. He rested his head in the cook of Elladan’s neck and sighed.

“That will teach you to strut before me in a state of undress,” Elladan said. A moment late, his chuckling broke the silence.

“What is so amusing, my darling one?” Rúmil asked.

Pulling back and lifting Rúmil’s chin to make eye contact, Elladan explained, “I feared for my braids, but they seem to have survived this ordeal…unlike my clothing. I guess I will have to return to my room and change.” The lovers laughed and Rúmil bestowed a kiss filled with all the love he had to give, on his dark-haired lover.

Chapter 44

Gildor strolled back toward the house to prepare himself for the festival. Oromë had come to him the previous night requesting help. Even if the Vala had not promised he would find love in Imladris, he would have given his assistance. He was fond of Lindir and was not blind to the favor the minstrel had with the Valar. When Gildor had learned the young prince tried to interfere with Lindir’s relationship, he was greatly disturbed; he left his troupe immediately and raced for the hidden valley. The others would follow as planned and arrive for the feast. He arrived in the early morning and begged Erestor to secrecy until the others arrived. If Erestor thought the elf was acting strange, he said nothing.

As the gypsy-elf returned to his quarters, he wondered about the second part of the Vala's request. He was to take Legolas with him. It seems the prince needed to be re-educated and the Valar deemed Gildor the right elf for the job. There was only one possible flaw in the whole thing…convincing Legolas to go with him.

********

Legolas sat in miserable silence for a time. The Vala was right. In recent years he had changed. That change caused his father to send him away. The blond stared at his reflection. What he saw was far from pleasant. He had dressed in his most “royal” robes, and a gold and mithril diadem was laced in his elaborately braided hair (after all, he had brought all the things that would set him above others). Legolas sighed. This was not him. He hated pomp and circumstance! He had become a flashy, egotistical, obnoxious, vain, little brat…he had become more like his grandsire than he cared to admit.

The young Mirkwood prince stood and removed the heavy robes; not even his father dressed so…pretentiously. Hanging the offending garment in his wardrobe, he chose instead a pale silver-blue raw silk shirt, buttoned to the throat and embroidered with soft pearlescent thread. A pair of plain, soft black velvet leggings and his boots finished the look. If there was a chance at gaining love, he wanted to be loved for who he truly was. Sitting before the mirror, he began to undo his braids and removed the circlet. Legolas brushed out his hair to a gleaming wheat blond and simply pulled the top and sides to the back and braided it, leaving the rest to sway against the small of his back. He removed a simple circlet of braded mithril from his pack and set it gently on his brow. He next removed the signet ring he wore and carefully placed it and his formal crown into a small box. With a deep sigh, he stood and fearfully looked in the full-length mirror again. What he saw shocked him. Gone was the arrogant princeling, and in his place stood a young, beautiful, although frightened, elf who would make his mother proud.

Changing his outward appearance was the easy part; convincing everyone that he had changed on the inside too would be more difficult. He had so many apologies to make.

**********
Erestor prepared for the feast, letting his lover tend his hair. Since the night they shared their bodies and hearts, the two were apart for work purposes only. The whole of Imladris could see the love between the two, and Maedhros was a dotting lover, leaving treats and trinkets for Erestor. They was decided that, although Maglor and Lindir vacated his room, the smith remained in the chief advisor’s rooms.

Erestor had grudgingly allowed the re-embodied prince to choose the counselor’s attire for the feast. He felt nervous as the only color he wore, especially for such occasions, was black; hopefully his love did not go to the extreme! Maedhros finished brushing Erestor’s onyx locks and carefully clipped the sides back with jeweled clips. Standing, the former warrior retrieved a package from under the bed. Laying it on the cover, he turned to his little love.

“Here, melethron. Come see what you will wear tonight,” Maedhros said.

The advisor eyed that package warily. Hesitantly he advanced and with shaking fingers began to untie the ribbon. A soft gasp escaped as the robes were revealed. “They are beautiful!” Dancing cocoa eyes met rich mahogany ones. Erestor gently removed the robes. They were crushed velvet in the deepest, darkest blue Erestor had ever seen. The collar and cuff were embroidered with a unique pattern that Erestor had never seen before. The robe closed with elegant toggles and a belt made of mithril chainmaille completed the ensemble. “You give me too much! I cannot accept something like this.” He looked up awestruck.

Maedhros chuckled. “I enjoy giving you things and you can accept. I saw the fabric and knew it would look stunning on you.”

Erestor eyed the belt. It was fifteen rows wide and made with links so delicate that it fell almost like ribbon. “You made this,” the advisor stated, laying the belt down and advancing on his lover. Maedhros could only nod as the elf that held his heart advanced. Wrapping his arms around the tall elf’s neck, Erestor stretched up to bestow a loving kiss on petal soft lips. “I love it.” Erestor whispered.

“And I love you,” Maedhros replied, pulling the slight elf in for another, more passion filled kiss.

Erestor pulled away and snickered at the resulting pout. “If, melethron, we continue, we will be late for the feast and EVERYONE will know why.”

“So what?” Maedhros reached for the dark haired elf but missed as the agile body glided away. The chase was on.

The two elves ran around the bedroom, through the sitting room, and back to the bedroom before Erestor hid behind the open wardrobe door. “Enough, peace!” he said panting. “You will undo the work you did on my hair!”

“So I will redo it.” The reply was accompanied by a mischievous twinkle as the powerful elf crawled across the bed.

Erestor quickly grabbed something from inside the closet. “Wait! Do you not want to see your new robes?” This stopped the Noldo.

“What new robes?”

“I thought…” Erestor blushed. “I thought you deserved robes befitting your station.” Maedhros started to protest but was cut short. “I know you wish to be just a simple elf. That is not entirely the case. This valley sees you and your brother as foster fathers to our Lord. Regardless of past actions, you are still of the line of kings. I just…” Erestor stopped, eyes pleading for the ancient elf to understand.

Maedhros crossed the bed and sat on its edge. “Come here, precious one,” he said softly. Erestor went to his waiting arms, carrying the robes. The ancient elf took them and carefully laid them on the bed before enveloping Erestor in a tight embrace. “I know not how I came to deserve you, but I pledge my heart and my soul to you if you would have them.” He held his breath as he waited for the words to register. It did not take long before dark eye went wide with understanding. “I know this is fast, and I wish to court you properly, but know that I am yours if you desire it.”

Erestor answered the only way he could. He pressed his lips against those of his heart’s desire and let his love and passion carry his answer. Clearing his throat and holding back the tears that threatened to fall, Erestor whispered, “You hold my heart as well, and I happily take what you give and offer the same in return.”

The Noldo smiled and kissed his little love. “So, show me what you chose for me,” he whispered. The warm breath caressed Erestor’s ear and sent a shiver through his body. Reluctantly stepping away, he let Maedhros uncover the new robes. The returned warrior’s eyes misted over. It was not the rich green fabric of the over coat, nor the dark green leggings and shimmering tunic that stunned him so. As amazing as they were, it was the clasp holding the over coat closed at the waist that moved him to tears.

Gold had been crafted into the emblem of *his* house…not his father’s but the one his warriors marched under. An oak tree, its bountiful limbs filled with leaves and acorns spread out in perfectly symmetry save the lowest branch on the right side. This limb was cut just off just before the point where leaves should be. When the ancient warrior had set up his own lands, he had chosen this new symbol for his house. He felt the oak was perfect, for it grew strong, symbolized wisdom, and could survive almost anything. When he lost his hand, the emblem had been modified. Maedhros also notice that peaking through the upper branches was a mithril star set with a diamond. The same star was on Elrond’s standard. The smith’s eyes glistened in understanding. The trouble and expense Erestor must have gone through touched him deeply.

“I…I do not know what to say,” he stammered, pulling his lover into his embrace. “It is beautiful. How did you know?”

Erestor placed a chase kiss on his cheek. “I asked Elrond.” The following embrace was filled with love and promise. Finally, Erestor pulled away. “Come, let us finish getting ready and show off our new finery.” He winked as he moved to don his new robes.

Maedhros laughed.