Aearlinn

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Later, in Elrond's Rooms ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Elrond adjusted the cushions beneath Legolas' knees, ensuring the long legs remained elevated at a comfortable height, then took up one slender bare foot at the ankle. Slowly he rotated the joint and then massaged the jutting, angular bone with his thumb. Cupping the heel in one hand for support, he ran his thumbnail down the sole; Legolas' toes curled up in response and he giggled. Elrond smiled. "Ticklish?" he knew Legolas was and repeated the move, pressing more lightly so that this time the entire leg twitched and a loud peal of laughter rang out from the Elf. Elrond then set to stroking the sensitive skin mercilessly, keeping his grip on the ankle tight, grinning as Legolas floundered on the bed and laughed until tears welled in his eyes.

"Ai! Daro!" pleaded Legolas between gasping guffaws and smiled placidly when he was instantly obeyed. Elrond began seriously massaging his foot, the pressure pleasant and even invigorating while somehow soothing to his jangled nerves, and he sighed. Presently, the right foot was exchanged for the left and the skilled healer's fingers worked their magic again. Relaxing, he leaned back into the pillows, shifting his shoulders in that motion designed to achieve the utmost comfort as his naked frame settled deeper into the downy pile. His eyes drifted shut as his lips curved into a slender, dreamy smile of complete contentment. This, he deemed, was precisely what he needed: the soft comfort of the huge feather bed, cool silk caressing his skin, moonlight spilling through the open windows, the sweet strains of elvish song drifting in from the courtyard below, and Elrond catering to his slightest whim.

The mortifying memory of being carried almost insensible through the Last Homely House, Elrond frantically calling his name over and over, his Naneth screeching for Thranduil and the healer, the Hall of Fire disgorging a veritable horde of Elves from both Greenwood and Imladris, all of them staring agog with that avid curiosity incited by tragedy, all of them either his kin, Elrond's kin, sylvan Elders, assorted Noldorin nobles, and what surely must be every staff member in the place along with a fair number of warriors from the barracks, retreated to the darkest corners of his mind. Legolas would not consciously think of how relieved he was for the event to belong to the past, albeit the very recent past, for doing so meant he would have to recall it in all its vivid, vibrant detail. If death by embarrassment were possible, he would be in Mandos now. The only thing he'd been through that was more humiliating happened the horrible day at the mud Spa when Finduilas and her bevy of maiden attendants barged in on him in the midst of coating his exposed, afflicted genitals with slick, wet clay.

That and the time Arwen appeared in my bathing spot, how or from where I still know not, and groped me, taking my measure and girth with far too practised a hand.

Something of his discomfort over weighing the severity of these living nightmares must have shown on his face, for Elrond stopped what he was doing, his gentle hand coming to rest on Legolas' knee. "Pân vae, Aearen?" he asked softly, so much concern and love and devotion in the simple words that Legolas' heart turned over. He opened his eyes to a face etched in worry and sympathy, Elrond's grey irises as pale as water, his complexion wan, his dark brows squinched together in a most un-lordly manner. Impulsively, Legolas reached out to him and the hand was instantly caught as Elrond moved closer, leaning over the deadly digits to kiss them with adoring fervour.

"Aye, Im vae, Nín'ódhel."

Silence returned as Elrond resumed the massage and the couple enjoyed the comfort of this familiar intimacy. After a time, however, Legolas decided the peace between them was filled with things that must be said. "I am not so naive as everyone thinks." The compressing fingers faltered and stopped as Elrond's eyes joined his. "That's what happened downstairs. I realised what I've done, you see, and how wrong it is, how selfish. I was so …so…"

"I don't want to hear any recriminations," interjected Elrond. "You were not in your right mind, you were grieving, you were alone with no one to consult about this. I don't even care about the reasons; don't you see?" He knew he was being sharp and stopped, willing himself to be calm. "Aearen, I do not hold you to blame for this child, nor do your parents or even that healer. Berating yourself will only increase the risk by adding to your distress."

"What of Tinu Mîn? Does he blame me for making his life so fragile, so uncertain?"

Elrond was nodding gravely and Legolas' eyes grew huge in response. "I'm sure he does; no doubt in my mind whatsoever. In fact, he's probably going to be an unholy terror of an elfling just to get back at us for it. Aye, enjoy these months of peace and serenity, for once he's born Tinu Mîn will surely become Úan Mîn." He smiled to match the growing joy on his mate's face, pleased to have alleviated Aearen's fears this way. It was then he recalled Erestor's comment about Legolas' habit of keeping things to himself. In an instant he became serious again.

"Aearen, I'm glad this is out in the open. My thoughts have been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and notions. One minute I'm missing my family, envious of yours, the next I'm angry that I didn't know who you were, and right after that I'm overwhelmed with guilt for the reasons why you didn't share that most basic information with me. We cannot continue on this way. However hard it may be, we must learn to confide in one another. So much anguish could have been avoided had we done so earlier. Now, it is essential that we trust and depend on each other."

"Aye," Legolas sighed, a look of stoic resolve transforming his face. "I have many things I've not told you," he started, "but most of them seem petty in light of this new dilemma."

"What new dilemma?" asked a confused Elven Lord. "And what haven't you told me, Legolas?"

"Things about the Elder's Council, but that isn't important right now," he answered, waving away the ominous statement as if it was a casual reference to weather. "The problem is Tinu Mîn, of course. Above all, we must find a way to protect him. I think we should discuss whether or not to sail."

Elrond was taken aback, once more caught off-guard by the trend of Legolas' thoughts. "Very well, but I must tell you I do not favour such a plan."

"Why? You were open to the idea before your council approved our marriage. Is it because of Imladris and the promise you made to Gil-galad?"

"No, that's nothing to do with it," Elrond grimaced around the words, displeased that Legolas could still doubt him so. "It is the state of your health that concerns me. I'm not certain you could survive the crossing."

Legolas' stared. "Who has said this?"

"I am a healer, Aearen; I don't need anyone to tell me," Elrond hedged, reluctant to admit he'd discussed the topic with Thranduil behind Legolas' back. In the days since that conversation, he'd done nothing but debate the benefits versus dangers of emigrating to Valinor. Each time he did the conclusion was the same: the journey to Aman was no longer an option. He took a deep breath and spoke the words he knew would provoke an instantaneous revolt. "With the outcome so risky, I'm unwilling to sail. I will not lose you, Legolas, even if it means we must lose Tinu Mîn."

"No! My responsibility is to our babe," Legolas insisted, lifting up on his elbows to glower at his mate. "I cannot allow him to perish; if he does I will surely fade, Elrond. Can't you see what he means to me?"

"I do, but now we know this is not your deceased brother and you were not given the task of renewing his life. That being so, the Valar must have judged you blameless of his death and have blessed the conception."

"I don't care if he's Galbreth or not. I made him; he's my responsibility," Legolas interrupted.

"Wrong. WE made him and thus he is my responsibility, too," Elrond was already shaking his head and raising a hand to silence the arguments he knew were on the verge of spilling from Legolas' throat. "Don't bring up all that stuff again, Aearen, we've been over it and over it. It doesn't matter whether I knew or not; I never took the trouble to find out if you were fertile and didn't think it was necessary to discuss child-bearing. We will share responsibility, understand?"

A few seconds sped away into infinity before Legolas gave a silent nod of acquiescence. "I could make the crossing just fine as long as you are beside me," the sylvan added softly, eyes liquid in his fear for the babe.

"Ai Elbereth," sighed Elrond, suddenly leaning over to gather Legolas close against him. "You must see it as the greater risk. Consider: on the open ocean, where shall we turn if we need help? Out in the isolation of the Sundering Sea, how am I to learn the proper way to care for you, the best way to treat any complications? Who can say whether the waters and the winds will be kind or cruel? Many ships are lost to storms, Aearen, though it isn't something you would be likely to know unless you've had friends among the Faladhrim."

"The Valar would protect us, surely," said Legolas, but he had doubts about that. Truly, his greatest fear was that the Powers would punish his imprudent decision to conceive by taking the child away. Sailing to Aman would be viewed as an act of penitence, he hoped; essentially, throwing himself upon the mercy of the Lords of the West.

"They will do the same should we remain here," insisted Elrond and with a sigh gave him another tight squeeze before laying him back upon the silken sheets. He resorted to the one argument he thought would convince the Wood Elf. "Beloved, if the worst should happen, only your survival ensures our babe's return from Mandos. He's brand new and depends utterly on us. You and I must endure, no matter what happens, so to try and create him again. No one else can do it."

Legolas swallowed hard against the rising tide of grief this drew from his troubled soul, for it sounded to his ears as if Elrond was predicting their child's death, either soon or at birth. On top of his Naneth's unspoken fears, it was too much. His hands flew to cover his stomach and his knees curled in as he rolled to his side, a sob shaking his frame. "I don't want to lose him," he rasped, unable to find air, the words scarcely audible. He felt cold inside and sick. Immediately, the strong presence of his mate wrapped around his heart as Elrond lay down beside him and protectively covered both mate and unseen babe.

"You won't, Aearen, that's not what I meant. As long as we are careful and you stop letting everything fall on your shoulders, all will be well. Let me take these burdens from you, Legolas, for Tinu Mín's sake and mine. You won't lose him."

"Promise me," demanded Legolas, burrowing against the broad chest, tucking his fingers within the glossy strands of black trapped between them.

"I promise," said Elrond, kissing the mass of golden air beneath his chin, gently stroking the tense back. "He will be fine as long as we follow the healer's advice. She said Tinu Mín is well; it is you for whom we are all apprehensive. You must cease this constant fretting." A brief nod against his chest followed and the rigid frame relaxed a bit. Elrond breathed easier as the legs straightened and Legolas snuggled in closer. Slowly he began rocking Aearen, humming a tune at random, not realising he had chosen a ballad that had never failed to soothe Arwen when she was a child.

It seemed to work for Legolas, too, and soon a deep sigh vented his lungs. He lay still in Elrond's arms, simply absorbing the encompassing love and care for several hours, though he did not sleep or enter reverie. Eventually, proximity awakened other needs as well and he stirred. "Let us go to Lanthir Fân," he whispered.

"That would be lovely, but I have something else in mind tonight. I've been ordered to make you stay in bed, remember?"

That prompted a smile as Legolas rolled out of his mate's embrace. "Aye, but you are not doing a very good job of making it enjoyable."

"Oh? Do you not like the massage technique I was using?" He sat up and regarded his beloved in mock annoyance. "Others assure me it is thoroughly restful."

"Aye, but I want something more than rest."

"Trust me, Aearen; the night has barely begun."

That elicited a little shiver that ran through every nerve of Legolas body. Their lovemaking was a balanced mixture of gentle tenderness, adventurous role-play, and impassioned lust. Since everything they did was new for Legolas, this gave Elrond a fresh perspective as well. It was clear that the ancient legend revelled in being the sophisticated, worldly mentor to an ingenuous, inexperienced neophyte.

The anxious lines across the archer's brow had all disappeared and Elrond clambered closer, bending down to press his lips against the firm stomach. With the crisis averted a second time, his soul surged with a strong protective instinct, determined to nurture mate and unborn babe to nativity.

Feeling Legolas go limp in his arms had devastated the mighty Lord and prompted a slight overreaction. Yet as embarrassed as he was to have revealed his panic so openly, never had the renowned physician been so pleased to welcome another healer into his rooms. Gone were the days when he would have scoffed at the concept of sylvan Elves having any genuine skill or understanding of the workings of the body, beyond the most obvious functions. Never again would he snicker over crude jokes about superstitious charms and obscure folk-cures, for the Queen's personal medic was efficient, intelligent, and well-versed in the rarer aspects of sylvan male anatomy, having successfully attended three such pregnancies over the course of her career. So she'd asserted in answer to his rapid interrogation as they'd raced up the graceful curve of the central staircase.

Gladhadithen had given a brisk, thorough exam, pronounced the babe unaffected by his Adar's near collapse, diagnosed Legolas as hovering too near to emotional exhaustion for his or the child's good, ordered bed rest for at least a full day, commanded Elrond to coddle and cosset his mate in such a way to ensure he remained abed, and forbidden either one to attend the stressful convocation of the Council of Elders. The portentous meeting had forthwith been postponed for the following night's Ithil Daen. Elrond considered it a suitable outcome and applauded Gladhadithen's very pleasing course of treatment. He was determined to follow it to the letter.

First, he'd arranged a cool, refreshing bath, crushing athelas leaves and casting them into the water along with aloe oil and various other invigorating herbs. There he'd let Legolas soak for an hour, lovingly sponging the restoring fluid over his limp body. They'd spoken little during that phase, for Elrond knew how abashed Aearen was over the attention he'd called to himself. Likewise, the concerned spouse refrained from scolding his beloved over the sparing amount of nourishment he'd taken at the evening meal. Instead, Elrond concentrated on easing Legolas' emotional discomfort, humming a light tune, massaging away any lingering tension from shoulders and neck, washing the long golden tresses thoroughly. That last had required significant self-control in order to keep his personal predilection in check, but he'd managed.

After that, he'd helped Legolas out of the tub, dried him off, bundled him into a soft cotton robe, and whispered that it was time to settle into bed. This soft announcement had at last awakened a light in the archer's eyes and he'd smiled, moving into Elrond's arms even as he'd shrugged out of the damp garment. He'd not complained a bit when Elrond swept him up into his arms again and carried him to the massive bed, nor had he argued when the Elven Lord proceeded to comb out his wet hair. He'd submitted obediently to everything and this communicated the mood of his gradually awakening desire more certainly than any spoken words.

The abrupt resurgence of harrowing distress dispersed, the most chilling fears he harboured finally shared, and Legolas once again calm and receptive, Elrond responded with renewed exuberance. Continuing the massage to deepen his mate's tranquility, he relished every stroke and press of the warm, smooth flesh, appreciating Legolas with unhurried pleasure, and avidly cataloguing each indication of the Wood Elf's returning confidence.

He deemed the time right to initiate a bit of playful banter that would naturally lead to more salacious remarks, culminating in an entirely naughty dialogue as intercourse commenced. Turning his head, Elrond laid his ear against the tiny mound beneath the navel and assumed a serious demeanour as of one listening intently to something very faint and far away. He smiled at Legolas' quizzical expression over this activity, nodding as he sat up again. "Ah, he is sleeping. I'd best not do anything to disturb our little one's rest." Aearen's eyes grew hugely round and Elrond laughed, bestowing a loving pat upon the taut abdomen.

"What did you hear?" demanded Legolas, really believing his mate had been listening to their babe. "Can you detect his breathing? Does his heart sound strong?" He broke off abruptly as his beloved chuckled.

"Nay, he's not old enough to be making audible sounds, though his heart is surely beating. Can't you feel it?" Elrond couldn't help himself and softly petted his mate's belly again, a swirling sweep of fingertips over the subtle curve that ended in a gentle probe at the in-folded umbilical scar. Legolas in naked repose had been his private delight for over ten years and the fact that his beloved carried their infant child filled him with pride and a deep, possessive desire. He was aroused and made no effort to conceal it. Before the dawn arrived, physical exhaustion would replace the emotional weariness plaguing the Wood Elf, leaving Legolas sated and submerged in a real healing slumber. Then, when he awoke, Elrond planned to take him again, filling him with the evidence of his love. So lost was he in this musing that Aearen's reply was nearly a surprise.

"I feel his heart. It's so fast, Elrond, like a little bird's. Is that normal?"

"Aye, that is as it should be for this stage. There is much strenuous work in the making of life and it is no wonder Tinu Mín's heart is always aflutter with the effort. Your's is elevated, too; hadn't you noticed?"

Of course Elrond knew why Legolas' pulse was rising and smirked with devilish glee as his hand slithered lower and caressed the sylvan's sensitive inner thigh. The response was immediate and gratifying as Legolas' whole body twitched and his lengthy limbs parted, wantonly exposing his hardening penis. As the slender organ filled, the scrotum pulled up tight and revealed the moist, maroon cleft below. Elrond pressed his fingers inside but didn't penetrate far, withdrawing them to trace over the testicles clustered at the root and then trail along up the length of the aroused organ, stopping to tickle the juncture where the head arose. He was rewarded with the softly trilling call as Legolas' arse shifted restlessly on the sheets.

"Ai Nín'ódhel," Legolas shivered under the touch, the feeling maddening in the most delicious manner, "the things you do to me."

Elrond grinned. "You know you like it, Aearen." With that he sidled between the wide-spread thighs and lovingly nuzzled the warm wet opening, fingers playing lightly over the tip of the rigid cock, pressing down on the tiny orifice, spreading the slippery secretion this coaxed forth. Meanwhile, his tongue flickered in and out as he lapped at the acrid fluids there, pushing his nose deep into the musky blonde curls, inhaling the heady mix of desire and herb-scented bath water. He closed his fist around the archer's erection and lightly squeezed, not really pumping but hinting that perhaps he might, and Legolas groaned, straining to press into the grip. It was enough to make Elrond's heart soar and provoked a monumental struggle to abstain from mounting his sylvan mate at once.

Instead, he satisfied his hunger by grazing from the vaginal canal up between the thighs, lightly sucking on the small glands bulging out from their thin covering of crinkly, hairless skin. Legolas was sensitive there but not so much as other places and Elrond moved on, testing the firmness of the slender shaft, nibbling and lapping languidly from base to tip, where he paused to catch Aearen's eye. The sylvan was struggling for breath, blue irises almost obliterated in the yawning depths of dilated pupils, lips parted, nostrils flared, hands tangled in the sheets as if he feared to fall from the bed. Elrond took his time and looked him over well, noting the flush of rose that suffused his flesh, darkening to a rich ruby hue at the pinnacles of his ears and the engorged points where his nipples rose and fell with every laboured breath. A smile stole over the Elven Lord's face and he crawled forward, mimicking the stance he would normally assume to seal their bodies together.

He didn't lunge into motion, however, for he was still dressed in leggings and shirt, though the tunic, boots, and hose had been discarded before the bath had begun. Now Elrond remained poised above Legolas, gazing down into questioning eyes, his expression alive with the soft light of love and the consuming heat of desire. He lowered his head and kissed the parted mouth, which opened fully to his exploring tongue as a quiet moan escaped Aearen's lungs and entered his. He ended the kiss in stages, taking small samples of the hot wet interior and the pliant lips, drawing back only to lean forward again and renew the intimate communion. At last he relented, a sigh of absolute pleasure gusting over the sylvan's face, fluttering through an errant strand of hair draped across his cheek.

"How can it be that you belong to me?" whispered Elrond, giving a bemused shake of his head. He let his gaze travel over the recumbent form again, peering down between his arms and then back to the stunning mane and the blushing ears protruding from it. Elrond strained forward and caught one with his teeth, tugging the tender tip so that Legolas rippled beneath him and raised up into the sensation, breath catching, pulse throbbing so strongly it could be felt at the point of contact.

"Elrond, you torment me," he accused in tremulous tones.

"Nay, I would pleasure you, beloved," the Lord of Imladris replied. "It is time to teach you how to extend that pleasure for a longer span of time."

"Nay! You would deny me just to revel in my hunger," Legolas complained, gasping as lips suddenly surrounded his left nipple. Suction drew the tight node up as the tip of Elrond's tongue dragged across it and Legolas arched into the erotic jolt, all thought scattered. He opened his eyes, never aware that he'd shut them, and focused on the Noldorin noble just as he released the enflamed peak. Legolas watched the nipple slip free, slick and dark, and quivered in that most divine of disappointments, waiting and hoping for more. He met Nín'ódhel's eyes.

"I freely admit to your charge," said Elrond. "You have no idea of how glorious you are in the throes of your passion, have you?" He offered this as his only defence and without waiting for any answer dipped his head to the second nipple, sucking forcefully and laving his tongue over it, feeling its heat and hardness against the fleshy muscle. Legolas arched from the mattress to increase the scintillating pressure and Elrond closed his teeth around the node. The bite was enough to leave a mark and wring a cry from Aearen and that sent a burst of longing straight to Elrond's cock, still painfully restrained beneath his leather leggings. He groaned, relocating higher to lap at the neglected ear, and contemplated what to do next. Should he retrieve their naughty toys or continue this more gentle seduction? Suddenly aware of Legolas' hands hastening to get his pants untied, Elrond sat back and snatched those clever fingers tightly.

"No, none of that. I'll decide when and how my clothes are to be removed," he commanded.

"Want to touch you, Nín'ódhel," pleaded Legolas. "Let me." He made to rise and was summarily pushed back into the pillows.

His entreaty gave Elrond an idea, something he'd never done in front of Legolas, nor something Legolas had yet done for him, either and he grinned in anticipation of the reaction it would generate. "You must control this urge to touch me," he admonished. "Are you capable of doing so?"

"Aye. Nay, why should I? Do you not desire me to touch you?" Legolas challenged, hoping to regain control of this encounter. He didn't reckon with his mate's determination, however, and though it was plain that the suggestion immediately came to life in Elrond's mind, experience enabled him to resist giving in.

"Of course I long for your touch. Ah Aearen, I have been hard since I undressed you and put you in the tub. There are times, though, when it is necessary to manage such cravings creatively. It would not be the first time I've yearned for you without finding satisfaction."

"What?" Legolas' eyes were wide with dismay. "When have I not…"

"I refer to those times when we have been parted one from another. Just because we were separated does not mean I lost my appetite for you."

"Oh." Legolas knew not what to say to this. It was the first time Elrond had alluded to the physical aspects of the days they'd spent divided. Their reunions were nothing short of spectacular after the deprivation of intimacy, Legolas as much in need, if not more so, than his older, more sophisticated mate. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any …"

"I'm not telling you this to censure you," Elrond explained, smiling with amusement for Legolas had absolutely no idea where this conversation was heading. "Have you never wondered if I missed you? Did you not miss me also? Did you feel my desire for you, even from across the leagues between us when you retreated to your wild woods?"

"I…Yes, but what is that to do with now? We're together and I've sworn not to run off like that again."

"Did you wonder if I sought release, even in your absence? Perhaps you imagined that as you pleasured yourself." Elrond sat back on his heels beside Legolas, unlaced his shirt, and drew it off. The fabric caught some of his hair and caused a fall of ebony to cascade over his chest. This he shook back with a sweep of his hand as he cast aside the garment, meeting Legolas' obvious appreciation with a roguish half-smile, for the archer's vision tracked his torso from nipples to navel and back before finding his face anew. "Well, did you?"

Legolas was lost for a moment, having forgotten the specific question, but then caught his breath suddenly. He couldn't tell Elrond that he hadn't needed to pleasure himself while they were parted, not this last time. He gave a hesitant nod and hoped the probing went no further than that, for before the Twins became his mates the statement was true enough. He licked his lips. "And you?"

If Elrond caught the hesitation he attributed it to the general anxiety Legolas always experienced when he thought Elrond was being critical of him. He nodded gravely and slowly, almost as slowly as he moved his hands from their resting place upon his thighs. In minute degrees they migrated up, pausing to permit one finger to trace the bulging outline at the crotch, withdrew to the sound of an expectant rumble of pleasure to come, and finally reached the waist of the leggings. He began untying the leather lacing.

"Oh yes, I've lain in this very bed longing for you, hard and needy as now, lacking your company and craving your body." He had the pants open and worked a hand inside, drawing his erection forth and holding it out proudly clasped within his fist. "A poor substitute, this, but what other choice remained? Should I deny myself, Legolas, when you are not beside me?"

I'm here; I would deny you nothing, Legolas wanted to say but only a hoarse and husky "Nay!" came out. His vision flickered swiftly up to dark eyes glittering with passion and returned to the hand and the ruddy cock it encircled. Whatever response Elrond gave, if any, was completely missed as the hand began to move.

With firm, quick strokes Elrond stroked his flesh, groaning as his eyelids fluttered low and his features took on an expression of intense concentration. His free fingers tripped lightly up his breastbone, hesitating a second as if unsure what to explore first, then raced for an ear, gently flicking and then pinching the pointed tip. Another plaintive moan left him and his hips bucked forward. He was glorious to behold, a soft sheen coating his body, enhancing the light of his elven aura, his muscles flexing in erotic time with his pumping fist as his breath raced in heavy gusts through barely opened lips. He tipped his head and massaged the other ear, letting his hair come dancing forward briefly, swaying across his belly before returning behind him.

Without realising it, Legolas grabbed his own erection and began to match his lover's pace. No sooner had he done so than Elrond pounced, tearing the offending hand away and hovering in glowering disapproval over the Wood Elf.

"Nay, none of that," he warned. "I want you to try to control your impulses. Do not touch yourself; watch and learn."

He let go and Legolas obediently buried his errant fingers in the wrinkled sheets, nodding agreement in silence. He wasn't sure he could do what was expected of him, not even if he wished it, but was willing to play this new game, determined to do his best to comply. Elrond had never failed to bring him to shattering culmination and thus far their little plays had proved most enjoyable. He wondered if there was any penalty for failing and swallowed hard as the mighty Lord resumed his vigourous masturbation.

"Good," Elrond said. He took several deep breaths, exhaling the last one in a stilted cry of urgency. "Those times when you were not here in my bed, what torment that was," he continued, pausing again to draw sufficient air. "I would close my eyes and imagine you here, naked and needy just as you are now. My hand became yours; my healer's fingers replaced by the calloused ones I so much prefer. Gripping and pulling, twisting just a little, coaxing me slowly, slowly toward my peak." Another short pause commenced and Elrond used it to reach down with his other hand and carefully cup his balls, increasing the pressure just a fraction until he jerked and cried out, pushing into the continuous massage.

"Ai Valar," Legolas whispered, transfixed by the display. Once more his hand seemed oblivious to conscious command and gripped his cock, working swiftly to catch up with Elrond's level of arousal. As before, though his mate had appeared lost in his intimate manipulations, the Elven Lord had been watching from beneath his lowered lashes. Moving with a speed generally reserved for combat, Elrond again pulled the disobedient fingers from their pleasurable employment and held them captive against the soft and pliant bed.

"What a wilful, undisciplined Elf you are," he growled, hovering over his prostrate mate, appraising the startled chagrin playing over Legolas' features, his heart giving a huge surge upon perceiving the glint of rising excitement in the blue eyes. Aearen was eager to play along.

Indeed, the sylvan recognised his cue and took it up with zeal. At once his chin came up in stubborn defiance and immediately initiated a struggle to get loose from the confining hold. "Release me!" he insisted between panting breaths, squirming about so effectively that he managed to brush his knee against Elrond's balls, provoking a low grunt of exquisite pain.

"Oh, you want release, do you?" snickered Elrond, getting one knee atop a lanky sylvan leg as he sought to control the thrashing Elf. He bore down upon the wrist in his grip, groaning as Legolas' free hand managed to grab a hank of his hair and gave it a sound yank.

"Yes!" fumed Legolas, managing to card his fingers through the ebony locks as Elrond jerked his head aside. "You've no right to keep me thus, toying with me, tormenting me! This time, you are the one who will be taught a lesson!" His efforts increased convincingly as he reached for and caught the huge penis bobbing between Elrond's thighs. In the split second during which the mighty Lord froze, Legolas planted a ready knee in his middle and flipped him over. They landed precariously close to the edge and paused, Elrond shuddering under the incredible sensation rippling through his cock. It was almost enough to make him give in.

Almost.

The triumphant smirk on Legolas' face was quickly transformed into lustful hunger as the archer let go and straddled his mate, leaning low to claim the garnet lips. He met resistance and relished it, pressing for control, demanding to be admitted, and exalting when the rigid jaw relaxed and let him explore. Victory! His kiss was urgent and frantic, his tongue questing thoroughly as if the experience was brand new, and he was quickly lost in the chase as he teased Elrond's tongue in a playful dance. His fingers found means to seek out sensitive ears and massage them, permitting Elrond's hands to support him at the waist, believing capitulation in the kiss signalled surrender over all. Thus, he was unprepared for his adversary's counter move.

Elrond rolled forward, keeping the kiss going the while, pulling Legolas further into his lap as he came upright, sitting with his legs splayed wide upon the mattress and the sticky heat of Aearen's hidden opening pressed against his balls. He gave a little rock that pushed their erections even closer and the sensation made them both moan. As expected, Legolas' legs immediately encircled him and locked about his waist. From this position it was not so hard for Elrond to draw his knees under him and secure a firm grip, arms tightening around the distracted Elf as he shuffled cautiously toward the foot of the bed. Once there he carefully bent forward and settled Legolas against the bed, unbending the arms entwined about his neck and within his hair, first one and then the other, gathering them together above the archer's head, holding them there securely against the foot rail.

By now the kiss had ended and they gazed at one another, breathing hard to regain strength, eyes alight with mischief as each anticipated what would come next. Legolas broke the silence.

"Release me," he demanded a second time, his voice pitched low in sultry tones, legs still locked around Elrond's waist, a wolfish challenge in the half-smile that graced his lips.

"Perhaps." Elrond kissed him, grinding into the cock pressed against his, delighting in the involuntary thrust this elicited from Legolas. He retreated from the compliant mouth and surveyed the openly submissive Elf beneath him. He would not go too far, not tonight, he decided. Legolas had indicated his desire for a more tender encounter, yet even so had joined in the game with complete abandon. Elrond's heart again surged with love and devotion. Tonight would be but an introduction in the art of prolonging pleasure; he would save the real training for another day.

Legolas unwound his legs and pressed his feet into the mattress, so to push up against Elrond and entice him into action. This provoked a loud grunt and a hard thrust against his belly but the hold on his wrists remained firm. He wriggled invitingly and let his thighs flop wide to either side, completely open to penetration whensoever Elrond might choose to take him. Which he hoped would be soon. "Nín'ódhel, I want you," he complained.

It was nearly enough to undo Elrond's resolve, but he was loathe to let his mate win this little contest. Legolas was adept in seizing control of their lovemaking by employing his erotic arsenal of sensual sighs, trembling trills, pleading entreaties, searing touches, and wantonly offering access to his body. Elrond kissed him again, a languid, encompassing possession. "Good," he whispered, retreating far enough to watch Legolas' reaction. "I want you to hunger for me, to yearn for my cock. How soon you get what you want depends on how well you obey my instructions."

A crease of frustration etched itself across Legolas' brow. He'd thought the game over and truly just wanted Elrond to fuck him. "Nay, I want you now." He tried to pull his hand away in earnest, finding his mood quite abruptly slipping toward anger, and when Elrond didn't immediately let go he exploded. A wild flurry of legs accompanied a rush of Nandorin curses as Legolas planted both feet against his mate's stomach, shoved him off, and rolled from the bed all at once. He stood glaring down at the surprised Elven Lord and issued further invectives in his native tongue before spinning on his heel and fleeing for the bathing chamber. The resounding report of the slamming door echoed through the Last Homely House.

Elrond lay a second or two in stunned shock before bounding off the bed and racing to the door, which he found securely bolted from the inside. "Aearen?" he called softly, tapping tentatively. Only silence met his ears. "Please, open the door. It was all in fun; I didn't mean to anger you." There was no answer beyond an indignant snort and a short Nandorin command which translated, as far as Elrond could gather, into 'caro le glass lín'. This was followed by the sound of the pump being primed so Legolas would not have to listen anymore.

The Lord of Imladris' head dropped and he issued a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with his hand in dismay. Resigned to wait, he reinserted his lax penis inside the pants and half-heartedly tied them up, for his compelling need had vanished almost at once. Retrieving a night shirt, he flopped in dejected remorse into an armchair by the empty hearth. This was hardly the outcome he'd hoped and surely would only increase Legolas' anxiety. Yet it was completely unexpected and he could only attribute the outburst to changes wrought by the pregnancy, unable to perceive that perhaps Legolas was beginning to express his real personality rather than that of a mere bond-slave. Perhaps the bath will help calm him. He would let Aearen alone for a time and try again in an hour. After all, the Wood Elf could not remain in the tub all night.

Well of course Legolas had no intention of sitting in the bath at all. He merely wanted the rushing gurgle of the pumped water to disguise the noise of his escape. Donning the clothes removed just a couple of hours ago, uncaring that they were damp and rumpled from being tossed to the floor, he slipped out the window and hoisted himself easily up onto the roof. Lighter than a cat, he tripped across the tiles and settled in his favourite spot above the balcony of Elrond's study. Here was an unobstructed view of the night sky and he reclined against the pitched slope to focus on the stars, there to nurse his angry and abused feelings.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Elsewhere in the Last Homely House ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thranduil sat propped upon the bed, a huge mound of pillows stuffed behind his back, enjoying the vision of Rhûn'waew sitting naked at the dressing table, grooming her lengthy black tresses. She hummed as she drew the boar-bristle brush through the luxuriant, inky strands, the lush locks swaying, now revealing her bare back, now hiding it again, intermittently permitting a peek at the lovely curve of her rear where it rested on the bench. In the mirror, he could see the reflection of her breast as it rose and fell with every brisk motion of her arm, the dark brown nipple staring back at him, a tempting, beckoning eye. After fifty strokes, she changed hands and the other breast took over the teasing dip and bob. At the end of another fifty, Thranduil was fully hard and yet waited patiently, enjoying the display. In the mirror, he caught Rhûn'waew watching him and they shared a smile.

"Then we are agreed this tendency toward omission must be addressed?" queried the Winter Queen.

"Of course," Thranduil shrugged, lacing his fingers together to prevent them from wandering toward his throbbing crotch. "Although I think I should be the one to have a word with Legolas. You are too motherly with him." This sparked a bubble of mirth from the Winter Queen's soul, a most welcome sound in view of her frantic terror just hours ago.

"Now, Henduin, I am after all his Naneth. You will be too kingly with him. Legolas is struggling with all the changes the pregnancy forces upon his body. It isn't so uncommon for cuil cyll sain to be nervous and hide unpleasant news."

"True, but they simply must start talking to one another as equal partners in this marriage. They are reluctant to speak out for fear of wounding one another; it isn't healthy."

"I agree. The problem is more troubling than fear of causing injury. Elrond is well-versed in handling opposition, if the stories Lindir tells are true," informed Rhûn'waew. "He is completely capable of dealing effectively with Galion and Fennas' machinations as long as you and I back him. Legolas knows this; thus, his reluctance to tell his mate what kind of opposition he is likely to face has its roots in dreading Elrond's anger and ultimate rejection."

Thranduil shook his head. "It is a poor match for him; Elrond is far too old for Legolas and they will always be on uneven footing."

"Yet our son loves this ancient Noldorin Lord; you must accept this. Do not try to convince him that his heart is mistaken," warned Rhûn'waew.

"I would never undermine him so," huffed Thranduil.

"Then what would you say?"

"I don't know," he admitted after a short silence, disturbed that he had no idea how to give his youngest child marital advice. Legolas' situation was beyond the norm, and Thranduil had sensed something peculiar in the bond knitting together his son's soul, though what it was he could not identify. It troubled him and he was unwilling to openly mention it, even to Rhûn'waew. That being the case, how could he effectively counsel his son to be open and honest?

The Sindarin king sighed. "Perhaps you should handle it then. I would speak to Legolas about the babe only to offer reassurance and support, to communicate my assurance that he will be a fine parent. I do not fault him for creating life so precariously but perhaps he doesn't know that." Thranduil's brow creased in dismay, imagining such a thought entering the mind of his once high-spirited golden child. Between them had always been the warmest affection and the doting Adar had ever made it his goal to show Legolas this unwavering love. "To see him like this, Indolen, fairly breaks my heart. Where is our bold, bright son? He is forever looking to that glorified Peredhel for approval or reassurance or something."

"Ai Valar! He looks to Elrond with love, seeking to see love returned. And it is; even you acknowledge this. You must stop, Thranduil. We have him back; isn't that enough for you? Treating Legolas like an elfling will only cause more hurt for him and for you. How is he to make his place here if you start interfering? Let them find their own way." Rhûn'waew stood and bent over, tossing her full mane before her, the curtain of raven hair concealing her face, her nude posterior pointed at her beloved herven. She started brushing again, drawing the bristles through with long slow deliberate movements that made the muscles in her back flex and shift. As expected, this had the effect of distracting her husband from further criticism of Elrond.

"Mmmm." Thranduil made a peculiar noise, have a moan of appreciation and half a sigh of complaint, for while he regretted losing sight of the shapely breasts and their erect, mahogany nipples, he found his beloved wife's legs parted just enough to allow a teasing glimpse of the dark maroon crease between them. He shifted on the bed. "I know their love is real, but to find one's ind-an-faer at such cost!"

Rhûn'waew let that pass without comment, save for a solitary shudder that made her shoulders shimmy. What could one say? They had all suffered; she had no desire for any of them to continue doing so, especially Legolas. She had a strong suspicion that healing had only been fully accomplished scant months ago and this perplexed her. It was as if a part of his mate's soul had been withheld from her son until just around the time of conception. Unwilling to add to the stress and strain, she didn't want to question either Legolas or Elrond about it, deciding to wait and watch. "What are you going to do about the compensation?" she asked suddenly, edging her legs open just a tiny bit more and bending just slightly at the knees. Silence followed her question, if the King's elevated respiration could be termed silent. "Thranduil?"

"What? Oh, the compensation," he sighed in mock irritation, loving every minute of her tantalising seduction. Still, politics was the last thing on his mind right now. "Don't know. Whatever Fennas advises, I suppose."

Rhûn'waew gave an ungracious snort, pausing in her grooming to peer at her mate around the curve of her own arse. It took a second for Thranduil to remove his stare from her nether regions and meet her eyes. "Fennas is too divided. He is torn between his strong love for Legolas and his resentment of Elrond and all these Noldorin folk. You know he blames them for his wife's death at Dagorlad."

"I am counting on that," returned Thranduil, licking his lips for his mouth was very dry. "His indecision will allow a compromise to be made. Were he adamant on the written Law, there is little I could do about it."

The Queen huffed in annoyance and resumed her brushing, the strokes more strident now. "That Law should have been rescinded Ages ago. Such a high amount would cripple Elrond's House and weaken the Realm of Imladris. Is that what we want for Legolas' new home and family?"

"Of course not." Thranduil struggled to concentrate, for Rhûn'waew's rush of anger had sent a lovely flush through her body, casting her milky skin in rubicund shades of rose. "We want him to be well cared for and loved. Fennas wants this, too, beloved. He has always had Legolas' best interests at heart. At the same time, would you have these people's behaviour excused? They have treated Iest Mín shamefully."

"Aye." She gave her hair a particularly rough stroke. "Can you believe their obsequious behaviour? It is both sickening and insulting, for they seem to feel we will ignore the pain our child has endured under their cold bigotry." Rhûn'waew scoffed, standing tall and casting her head back so that her glorious mane arced over her in a flowing wave of iridescent black filaments. It bounced and swayed almost with independent life before settling round her in a protective cloak. She set the brush before the mirror, her body therein fully revealed, and seductively caressed her belly, letting her hand saunter down to her thigh where it rested at the crease between her leg and the small triangle of tangled pubes.

"I am not pleased but I do not want to be too severe in punishing them. Legolas and the babe must live here; no need to encourage resentment and hostility due to the redress owed," she said.

"We will be here to mitigate that," Thranduil's words were soft and dreamy as he admired his lovely wife. It was hard to focus on anything but her hands. He was attempting to will them to travel lower and explore her hidden treasures more fully. "Tolo sí Indolen."

She gave her hair a playful flick and bounded across the room, her fingers slipping into his as he pulled her onto the bed. She straddled his lap, resting atop the heat of his restrained erection, and claimed his lips in a playful kiss. At once his free hand closed lightly around her breast, thumb massaging the nipple which rose up obediently. The kiss grew in passion and their fingers used the distraction to take off on excursions of their own, seeking familiar pressure points and favourite planes of flesh to caress. Rhûn'waew relinquished Thranduil's tongue so to lean forward and lap at the tip of his ear. Of course, this put her chest within nibbling range and at once the Sindarin King's mouth closed over the erect bud he'd been teasing. For a time they were each content with the treats they'd secured, only switching between right or left at intervals, but at last Rhûn'waew groaned and pulled back.

"More," she demanded and slithered off her husband to flop on her back beside him, black tresses spilling over them both, a wide swath of ebony silk.

In a move that seemed contrary to her order, Thranduil rolled off the bed and stood gazing down upon her, eyes alight with fire and longing. Then he began to slowly undress, pealing away the layers of silk and leather, all the while watching her. He did not engage in conversation as she had, for they were both beyond the point of leisurely foreplay. Even so, he didn't rush, letting her appreciate his unveiling at a pace that just gave her time to lust over the exposed flesh before hastening to see what his hands were revealing next. In this way the Sindarin King dispensed with tunic, shirt, and undershirt, pausing then to unbraid his hair, flexing his pectorals, heart soaring under the obvious hunger in her gaze as she admired his virile physique. He refrained from brushing out the golden mane, preferring to toss his head rakishly instead so that the crimped strands fell around his shoulders and framed his face. Then Rhûn'waew made that sound, the low, throaty, trilling call that meant she was ready.

Boots, breeches, and breechcloth were discarded haphazardly and Thranduil didn't even pause to flaunt his rigid penis, climbing on the bed to pounce on her, though she did equal pouncing, meeting him halfway. They grappled, Rhûn'waew fisting her husband's erection expertly, he dipping his fingers within the wet folds of heat between her legs, mouths sealing again as they moved toward union. Then she threw herself back, yanking him down atop her, hand still holding his cock captive, and guided him in.

Thranduil gave a shout of triumphant joy, for her need of him was a greater stimulant than even her remarkable beauty, and he set out to satisfy her urgent craving. He kept his pace steady and his penetration deep and watched her writhing and twitching and rocking against him. There was nothing so wondrous in all the world as this: that she should need him so completely and yet give herself so fully. Heart close to bursting, he leaned low to kiss her. They reached their peak together and remained conjoined, relishing the lingering pleasure of racing blood and soaring souls.

As was their custom, Thranduil and Rhûn'waew retreated to the bathing chamber to wash after their joyous coupling. The Winter Queen was quite gifted in the art of massage and was bearing down on a particularly recalcitrant muscle in her husband's shoulder. He lay stretched face down upon an ample bench, limp and relaxed beneath her hands, and every now and then gave forth a long sigh that ended in a soft moan of contented exhaustion. She deemed the time ripe for continuing their discussion at the point where they'd dropped it.

"I'm worried about him, Henduin," she announced quietly.

Thranduil gave a long sigh. "Elrond is wise enough to comprehend the danger and keep Legolas healthy. After all, Elrond is robust and there's no reason he shouldn't be able to give all Legolas needs to see this through."

"Don't you think we should discuss it openly with our son? What if the worst happens and we must choose between them. Legolas will not easily forgive us for letting his babe die in order to save him."

"Why give these horrible ideas the breath of your body?" demanded Thranduil, disturbed to hear not only the words but the real anxiety in her voice. Rhûn'waew was something of a seer and he was always leery of having her announce unpleasant tidings for fear that they were in essence predictions.

"Pretending the danger doesn't exist won't make it vanish," she admonished. "He isn't a child any longer and has the right to decide this. It is my hope that realising the tentative nature of the life he holds will inspire him to be more cautious."

"We already know what he would choose, so what is the point?" Thranduil was upset now and sat straight to face his wife.

"I have not given up, that's the point," she snapped testily. "He is as stubborn as you are, which means he will continue to act as though he is in perfect health, all to spare worry for his mate and for us. By not speaking of it openly, we doom him and the child."

"I will not hear this," Thranduil rose and snatched up his robe, wrapping it around him as if to ward off the pain of her words.

"If it is hard for you, think how it must be for Elrond," admonished his wife. Rhûn'waew donned her robe and exited into the bedroom, settling on the sofa beside the empty hearth where her husband joined her.

"Aye, he stands to lose them both." Thranduil squirmed a little, regretting his first remarks to Elrond. "I confess I hadn't really considered things from his point of view before."

"Like someone else we know," remarked Rhûn'waew drily. "The time for petty, spiteful acts of vengeance is at an end. Too much is at stake. With Elrond as our ally, Legolas would have nothing left to fear. You should have seen him, so fraught with dismay over the penalty his beloved must face.

"I want you to make certain Galion and Fennas understand the dire nature of the threat. They must not punish Elrond. Henduin, now that we know his heart is true, don't you think we should extend a true welcome to our law-son? It would mean everything to Legolas and just might prevent the tragedy we all fear."

"Beloved, Elrond Peredhel is not interested in being treated as our law-son. Valar, he's thousands of years older than me!"

"Don't exaggerate. Besides, so is Glorfindel but you have made friends with him."

"That's different," insisted Thranduil, "he and I have much in common. We are both warriors. Besides, Elrond has no sense of humour."

"Elrond is a warrior also, and everyone has a sense of humour."

"Not him. He didn't crack a smile over my crown of flowers, nor comment on Legolas'."

"He was trying to be polite. Anyway, there are other things more important you can share; for example, you and Elrond are both leaders, both fathers. Give him a chance and you may find that you like him." To this suggestion Thranduil made an inarticulate sound of incredulous disgust accompanied by a matching distortion of his features. Rhûn'waew frowned. "You must attempt this thing, Thranduil. If you don't, I tell you now that you will regret it severely. For Legolas, you will try to befriend his Noldorin mate."

The King winced but simultaneously encircled his Queen in his arms, smiling. "I hate it when you call me Thranduil in that tone. All right, for Legolas I will try."

With that the discussion ended and Thranduil, as was his custom, fetched a book, settled with his head pillowed in Rhûn'waew's lap, and listened as she read aloud. If he relented too quickly, she gave no indication she realised this and for that he was pleased. In his opinion, one of the most important aspects of a person's character was a broad sense of humour, the ability to laugh at oneself and the many little humiliations fate tended to scatter over one's path through life. Lord Elrond was far too serious for his own good, or for Legolas'.

Thranduil decided he would do them both a favour and correct this glaring deficit in an otherwise superlative personality.

TBC

~ ~  Glossary  ~ ~

Ithil Daen: Moon Summit

Maeth Imvelethryn: Fight between Lovers - Lover's Quarrel

cuil cyll sain: new life bearer

cuil cyll talan: life bearer talan

caro le glass lín: make your own fun

Siniath Vaer: Good News

Henduin: River Child - Rhûn'waew's pet name for her husband.

Indolen: Dream of my Heart - Thranduil's pet name for his wife


ind-an-faer: heart and soul

Tolo sí: Come here

nosta már: birth home - Quenya

Gladhadithen: Little Laugh, aka Giggle

Úan Mîn: Our Monster

Sui adar, sui ion: Like father, like son

Arahen: royal child


talan chall: hidden talan

Iest Mín: Our Wish - pet name for Legolas used by his parents.

Tarlanc: stiff-necked, stubborn

Lechenn: Sindarin word for Noldor elves.

Fennas: Doorway

Tinu Mín: our little star

Legolas just received a shock; he isn't seriously ill though his strength is more limited than he would like to admit. With proper precautions he should be fine. The confinement is more to give the pair a chance to be alone and undisturbed than anything else. The healer can tell the strain is wearing on them both. Thranduil and Rhûn'waew have a strong relationship, at least I hope that is what comes across. These two have been through so many hardships together. They have pulled one another from grief more than once. They learned long ago to make what happiness was within their power to do, and in deciding this discovered their intent was powerful indeed. Despite his personal losses, Thranduil remains playful at heart and his wife no doubt knows this, thus she is complicit in his little schemes while retaining the position of outsider. In this way she can pose as the mediator (while really she is the instigator) in the developing friendship she hopes to inspire between Elrond and her husband. I have to admit,I am finding it almost as difficult as thranduil to find the right spot in which he and Elrond can come to terms and emerge with true camaraderie. The next chapter has the promised meeting between Legolas and the Twins. :)


Finally, thanks to one and all still reading and enjoying the story!

© 06/13/2008 Ellen Robey