Canines and Arachnids

Warning: Still more smut ahead. New pairing this time.

They came upon Glorfindel as the sun was setting, the blond having already set up camp in a small clearing to the side of the trail. Among the towering pines peppered with the occasional oak, a small patch of dirt had been located in the grassy earth, probably cleared by the balrog slayer for the sole purpose of starting a fire. A thick ring of stones to help contain the fire had surrounded the small blaze. On the knee-high grass, two gray tents had been pitched. The blond had gotten so far ahead of the group that he’d even had time to collect a few fallen trees and with assistance from Asfalof, drag them to the campsite to serve as seats. Had the swordsman not jogged out into the trail and waved them down, they never would have seen the site, the entire area covered by dark bushes and hanging vines with heart-shaped leaves tinged streaked with hues of violet.

“Wow,” Elrohir said when he saw the beautifully prepared area. He glanced at the fire quizzically. “What? No dinner prepared?”

Glorfindel shrugged one shoulder at tea teasing comment. “I could find no game in the area,” he admitted. “I fear it’s lembas tonight.”

Hopping off his mount, Elrohir made his way over to Legolas and Elladan, helping the latter down and carrying him over to sit on a log near the fire. He was nearing the final moments of his transformation and both of the other werewolves knew that in his state, it was near impossible to walk. Elrond was secretly pleased that sometime during the ride, the pair had separated and Legolas had done up his breeches. Leggings that, once he dismounted, he promptly shucked along with his calfskin boots, startling the elder two elves into silence. Tossing the tan britches and leather boots aside, he likewise removed his green tunic and white undershirt, adding the garments to the pile.

“Keep the fire going. I’ll return soon with something to eat,” Legolas said in way of explanation. Letting out a deep breath, he stretched, bones popping loudly as he assumed his secondary form and loped off into the growing darkness.

Elrond shook his head wearily. “Pity that neither Glorfindel nor I can indulge in whatever it is he catches,” the healer lamented. “Even with his contribution, it will be lembas for us, I fear.” After he uttered that, his younger son cocked his head to the side, eyes glazing slightly. A few moments later, his vision cleared.

“You needn’t worry about that,” Elrohir finally said. “Legolas promised not to use his mouth to capture his prey. He’ll use his bare hands so that you’ll not go hungry.”

Glorfindel looked dumbstruck. “Telepathy,” Elrond muttered to the stunned elf by way of explanation. Elrohir got the same odd look on his face he’d had a moment before.

“You’re as blind as a bat, Glorfindel,” Elrohir announced gleefully. “He’s already found something.”

“He’s only been gone a few seconds!” the blond protested, his pride wounded at the sheer talent the werewolves possessed that made him look like a bungling moron.

“We can move very quickly in lupine form,” Elrohir said with a smirk.

“We’re fairly quick on our feet as elves as well,” Legolas’ voice blossomed into the conversation. He loped easily into the camp, careful to dodge the branches of the shrubs surrounding the camp in his unclothed state. Dangling from his right fist was a wild turkey with a broken neck. He tossed it to Glorfindel. “Since you’re both fairly paranoid, I’ll have you clean the animal while I dress.” Pulling on his pants, Legolas turned to Elladan. “How are you doing?”

A strange rumbling noise answered him and Elladan flinched violently, wilting into a crumpled knot under his cloak. He’d lost the ability to speak and it seemed to bother the transformed elf to no end. Ignoring dressing past his breeches, Legolas moved to sit beside the furry elf. Elrohir flanked him, hooking one arm over his twin’s shoulders. The newly formed wolf hunkered under his cloak, distraught.

“It’ll be okay,” Legolas murmured in a low tone. Elrond and Glorfindel moved away to clean the fowl, giving them a moment of privacy. “It’s only for a little while. We’ll teach you how to revert. It’s a little odd the first time or two, but you’ll get used to it.”

*Can you hear us yet?* Elrohir pressed. He received no response and glanced at Legolas worriedly.

*Perhaps the process must be complete first,* the blond offered tentativ *Y *You were fully fluffy for at least a day before we encountered each other.*

Elladan shifted, a little uncertainly. He couldn’t hear anything spoken between the werewolves flanking him, but he knew they were speaking to one another. Vague sensations of worry and uncertainty crept along the edges of his awareness and the feelings weren’t stemming from his own mind. He squirmed a bit and glanced at the blond to his side, somehow knowing that he had been the last of the two to speak. Legolas returned his gaze.

*He can’t hear us yet, but I think he can sense that we’re speaking,* Legolas said. They both perked up a bit, realizing that he was close to reaching telepathy.

*We’ll be able to include him in our evil plots!* Elrohir declared with glee.

Their theory was proven correct when they saw Elladan’s lips twist upwards on hingthngthened jaw in an altered version of a smile. He could feel their suddenly improved moods and was heartened to know that they were confident that he was close to his breakthrough. Squirming a little uncomfortably in the cloak he wore, he sniffed at the air, scenting the blood from the turkey the seneschal and his father were cleaning. The coppery tang in the air both entranced and repulsed him.

“That’s normal,” Elrohir was quick to reassure him. “You’ll get used to it.”

“It gets to be quite delectable,” Legolas murmured, slipping one hand under the raven wolf’s cloak to stroke his chest. He desisted when Elrond cleared his throat loudly. The blond glared at the elf lord for deterring his efforts at intimacy.

“Would you care to try it?” Elrohir asked in a faint whisper, careful not to let the elders hear in case the question upset his brother.

Elladan went very still, debating the option presented to him. It was a given that he was curious, but in all his centuries he hadn’t ever tried uncooked flesh and the idea was daunting at best. His ears flipped uncontrollably back and forth while he thought, causing the elves on either side of him to grin. No be be shown up by his two lovers who had consisted on such a diet for more than a year, he nodded slowly.

Legolas immediately hopped to his feet and approached the pair cleaning the fowl, reaching down to grasp a wing and tugging the cleaned appendage upwards in an unspoken request. Though he made a face at what he knew it would be used for, Elrond sliced it free at the shoulder, yielding the small bit of raw meat to the blond. The elf lord was slightly amused to see Elladan recoil in disgust from the bloody flesh initially.

For his part, Elladan attempted to take the small bit of meat from the archer, but his hands were no longer functional and he couldn’t grasp the proffered food. He made a distressed noise in the back of his throat at the limitation of his motional capabilities. Legolas understood and willingly held the tidbit steady for him, wrapping his free arm around the raven werewolf’s waist supportively. Elladan made several false starts for the food, ears flattened to his head in distress. Very slowly, he closed the tips of his fangs into the dark meat, going perfectly still when the taste of blood filled his mouth. Both elves flanking him snickered.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Elrohir offered. Elladan grunted at him, but persisted in his efforts, managing to pull a small bit of meat free and swallow it with minimal difficulty.

“You’re already doing much better than we did on our first try,” Legolas said consolingly to his friend and lover.

Heartened by the words of his companions, Elladan persisted in his efforts. He discovered that the sharp stinging flavor was tantalizing in an odd fashion and he proceeded to nip at the new form of confection. When the meat was gone, he licked at Legolas’ fingers to lengthen the experience of the sharp flavor so recently encountered. The archer looked to the elder elves to see if he could request more of the uncooked meat only to find that they had already placed the turkey on a spit, roasting it over the small fire. He was reluctant to get up since Elladan was still sucking on his fingers happily. Both Elrond and Glorfindel glared at them, making it clear that their intimate ventures were to cease immediately.

After a half hour, Glorfindel announced that the turkey was done. They ate in silence, the elders uncomfortable with the entire situation and the youths speaking telepathically, or rendered mute in Elladan’s case. Darkness had long since fallen over the forests and the quintet decided to retire for the night. The three werewolves were rather miffed when they were split up for the night. The twins were ushered into one tent with Elrond while Glorfindel pulled Legolas into the second.

Within the Peredhil tent, Elrond was a bit stunned when Elrohir helped Elladan out of his cloak and then proceeded to strip naked himself. Understanding dawned when the younger twin shifted into wolf form and nestled up next to his brother, seeking to comfort his other half. The display of camaraderie drew a smile from the elf lord and he stretched out on his side on the makeshift bed his seneschal had prepared for him.

In the other gray tent, matters were much different. Without a companion of any sorts, Legolas was more than slightly irked. The archer decided that if he was going to be uncomfortable for the night, so would the other blond. He shucked his clothes with unnecessarily rough movements, the action causing the reclining seneschal to retreat slightly. Edging away, Glorfindel eyed the blond werewolf warily. Confirming his suspicions, Legolas stretched out with a moan, shifting easily into a canine form. The transformed archer trotted over to the reclining elf and settled partially beside and partially atop the prone elf.

Glorfindel twitched, arms askew. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and held them up and out at strange angles. With Legolas nestled against his side, head resting on his chest and one forelimb thrown across his waist, he was uncertain what he should do. Technically, Legolas wasn’t doing anything wrong outside of invading his personal space, an infraction that the seneschal wasn’t going to call him on, but at the same time the blond elf was uncomfortable having the werewolf draped across him. It was the fur, he was certain. He shoved at the wolf’s shoulders to get him to move, but the archer simply nuzzled closer, secretly pleased that he was creeping out the poor balrog slayer.

Resigning himself to a night beside a fluffy interloper, Glorfindel flopped his head back, dropping his left arm to his side and tentatively settling his right across Legolas’ shoulders. The contact caused the werewolf to wriggle even closer and he squirmed, uncomfortable with the entire concept of a furry elf. The prince had to clamp his teeth firmly together to stifle a guttural giggle at the poor elder’s unease.

After some minutes, Glorfindel finally relaxed, his breathing relaxing and joints softening as he neared slumber. Exhaling heavily, Legolas followed him into dreams. His eyes slid shut, the movement emphasizing the alterations upon his person as elves slept with their eyes open. Noting the difference, the seneschal followed him into sleep with a vague sense of reluce. ce.

* * *

Glorfindel snapped to awareness when he was jabbed forcefully in his thigh and his gaze roved the area automatically for the source of the prodding. It was still pitch black and he could see little so he swept his arms out to locate the source of the feeling. Immediately he located a form next to him and he remembered that Legolas had curled up next to him before he’d fallen asleep. Fingers encountering bared flesh, he explored a little, shocked to find that in his sleep Legolas had reverted to elfin form in his slumber.

He was even more distraught to learn that the poke to his thigh had been from an erection from his young charge. His own member stirred slightly at the sensation, partially wilting simultaneously when he remembered that coupling with the other blond could very well alter his being.

Glorfindel considered his options. If he ignored the horny sleeping elf, he was in danger of the situation progressing to a further level of intimacy. If he woke the archer, he might respond badly and resent him, or worse yet, attempt to further the situation intentionally. The next sleepy thrust caused him to flinch and the movement shocked Legolas awake, blue eyes blinking sleepily at the uncomfortable seneschal.

Still groggy, Legolas automatically swept his arms across the other blond, pinching a ne the that passed beneath his fingertips. His other hand slipped automatically to the bulge between the seneschal’s legs, grasping the stiffening length. Wriggling closer, he latched his free hand to the furthest nipple, lips fixing around the nearer nub of raised flesh. Even through the barricading cloth, Glorfindel gasped at the attentions, arching up to meet the golden prince. He immediately chastised himself for his reactions and attempted to push Legolas away, the archer clig tog to him persistently.

“Legolas! Wake up!” Glorfindel hissed in a low tone, mindful of the raven elves in the next tent. Lips popped away from the nipple and moved up to place a series of kisses across Glorfindel’s jaw line, finishing up by locking onto a sensitive ear tip.

With an eager lover-to-be sprawled half across him, the balrog slayer was hard pressed to deny the attentions of the younger elf. He swept his arm around Legolas’ waist and pulled the smaller elf atop himself in what was almost a reflexive maneuver. The Mirkwood prince eagerly assisted him, spreading his thighs to straddle the seneschal. He pressed down firmly, grinding their erections together and drawing a grunt from Glorfindel’s lips.

The sound drew Legolas’ attentions and he moved in to kiss the balrog slayer, but the older blond wrenched his head to the side at the last moment, avoiding the blond werewolf’s mouth.

“Legolas, we can’t,” Glorfindel gaspeis vis voice becoming unsteady when Legolas returned his lips to his ear tip, nibbling at the erogenous area mercilessly.

“We’ll be careful,” Legolas murmured around the delicate tip, nipping at the flesh tantalizingly. He swept his hands southwards and undid the bindings to Glorfindel’s breeches, freeing his impressive length and girth. Already naked, Legolas pressed against the bared flesh wantonly, causing the older blond to arch into the sensation.

Legolas was content to suck mercilessly on an ear tip while his hands roved across the seneschal’s body, pinching nipples and twirling his fingertips around the head of his erection, occasionally dipping into his navel. Unable to fight the pleasure bestowed upon him, Glorfindel surrendered, curling his arms around Legolas in return. He mimicked the actions of the younger elf, pinching nipples, nibbling ears and went so far as to sweep his hands across the archer’s bottom. eezieezing the pale globes, he slipped a finger between the silken flesh to stroke at his opening, silently amazed by his own daring.

Legolas arched his hips into the touch, welcoming the invasion and begging silently for more. Hesitating, Glorfindel pressed the digit deeper, egged on by the moan the action earned. Deciding that he’d simply avoid kissing and wash himself off thoroughly afterwards, he accepted the pairing and shoved a second finger into the smaller elf to join the first. Glorfindel had to repeatedly remind himself that Elrond had studied all of the three werewolves to every last painstaking detail and had hand his hands all over all three of the younger elves but was unaffected himself. He tried to convince himself that he was safe so long as they did not join mouths and he was not the one taken. Judging from the pleasured movements the archer was making, he was eager to be taken rather than assume a dominant role.

Uncertain whether he could use his mouth safely, Glorfindel placed a chaste kiss on the blonde’s jaw. As if it was a cue, Legolas skewed his legs and pressed back, demanding to be pierced. Unable to deny that raw lust, the balrog slayer grasped his lover by the hips and shoved them together, niceties forgotten as he joined their bodies. If the archer minded the rough treatment, he didn’t show it, bucking back to meet the initial thrust. With a loud groan, Glorfindel began thrusting, gripping the prince’s hips firmly to add force to his movements.

Legolas melted against the larger form beneath him, one hand tangling in the dark golden locks presented him. His lips fell away from the reddened ear tip he’d been tormenting and a soft moan escaped his throat. “Harder,” he begged in a whisper. Glorfindel bucked his hips with more force and the order was repeated, somewhat louder. “Harder!”

Cursing softly, and praying that the other blonde’s cries hadn’t been heard, Glorfindel obeyed the previous order in the fastest way he knew of, flipping them both so that Legolas was sprawled beneath him, still impaled on his length. Lifting the archer’s hips to a slightly different angle, he drew back and rammed forward with enough force to rock the form below him. Legolas cried out sharply and he wrapped his legs around the seneschal’s waist, encouraging him to go faster. He complied, doing his best to pound the smaller elf into the stony earth.

Loving the brutal treatment, Legolas gave in to the sensations and came with a shout, tightening around his lover’s length with enough force to bring him to completion. Releasing his seed, the balrog slayer groaned and slumped onto the smaller elf, deadly tired after their activities.

A shrill whistle rang out into the night, accompanied by cheers and clapping. A weird guttural guffaw accompanied the applause along with a sole source of hysterical laughter. Glorfindel leapt to his feet in realization that the Peredhil family in the other tent had followed the entire evening of activities despite being unable to see them. He turned to yell at Legolas for introducing him into the world of exhibitionism without his consent only to find that the golden prince looked to be rather angry as well that their exploits had been closely monitored.

In the other tent, both father and sons had been roused by the commotion. Elrond had nearly gone to investigate, but Elrohir had reverted and cut him off, saying simply that their presence wouldn’t be appreciated. Another few rustling sounds clued the elf lord in on the activities of the other tent and he attempted again to get up and break off the contact, if only to protect his friend. Elrohir again stopped him with the simple statement that it was too late to stop anything. By now, the seneschal was infected or he wasn’t, their late rousing poorly timed to prevent the creation of another werewolf. Scowling, Elrond sat down with a plop, glaring at the gray tent wall, black in the dark of night.

A few minutes later, Legolas let out a loud cry of completion, a breathy groan from Glorfindel following immediately. Sticking two fingers between his lips, Elrond whistled piercingly before lowering his hands to clap loudly in the darkness. Elrohir managed a few half coherent rapacious catcalls that sounded like random cheering before breaking down into hysterical giggling. Even Elladan was laughing, rough guffaws echoing in his canine throat.

Sighing loudly, Glorfindel set about cleaning himself up with a few rags and the contents of his flask. He knew that Elrond would taunt him mercilessly for the next millennium or so with the events of that night. Finished with himself, he helped clean Legolas up as well before lying down again for the remainder of the night. As he had suspected, a furry form joined him immediately and he wrapped one arm diligently around the shoulders of his companion, pulling the werewolf a bit closer to him. Snuggling up happily against his latest conquest, Legolas drifted off to sleep.

* * *

In the Peredhil tent, Elrond woke to the first rays of the morning sun to find himself face to face with an identical pair of black wolves tangled together in innocent slumber. Emotions warred for supremacy. He wanted to be distraught at the state of his sons, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it since they seemed happy. Their contentment blocked his pity. Any resentment he felt towards the Mirkwood prince melted away under the knowledge that the twins held true affection for the blond archer. Unable to do anything else, he smiled at the furry tangle, conceding that it was kind of cute.

He exited the tent, surprised to see that Glorfindel and Legolas were already awake an in the final stages of preparing breakfast. The morning meal looked to be based on meat taken from a couple of large hares. The smaller of the two had been placed on a spit to cook while the other had simply been stripped of its flesh, the raw bits thrown in a bowl for the three werewolves to enjoy at their leisure. Legolas was idly nibbling on one forelimb, knowing full well that it was disturbing his observers.

“I fear we’ll become carnivorous in their presence,” Glorfindel commented, breaking the silence.

“Indeed,” Elrond allowed. “They’re shown a great potential in providing sustenance.”

“Aye. It but took a matter of a few minutes for Legolas to capture these rabbits,” Glorfindel said, idly turning the roasting carcass.

“As we move closer to Lothlórien, hunting will become harder,” Elrond commented, deliberately stressing the final word slightly.

Glorfindel shot him a ticked look, scowling darkly. The elf lord was not looking at him, nor did he seem to be aware of the implications of the final word in his sentence. The one word that the blond archer had cried out loudly enough for every elf present to hear clearly. Eventually, the balrog slayer decided that whether or not the elf lord had intentionally referenced his brutal coupling with the Mirkwood prince, he would let the matter drop. He turned his attention to the twinned black wolves exiting the Peredhil tent. The confident one with a bouncy gait he tagged as Elrohir. Elladan had to be the one trailing behind, moving slowly with a wiltedtureture, tail pulled instinctively between his legs.

“Come join us for breakfast,” Glorfindel called. Elrohir gleefully loped up to the group, enthusiasm pouring from his very being. Elladan tried to mimic him, but was a bit hesitant to fully expose his altered self to the other elves.

Legolas considered descending into a lupine form, hesitating for fear of the thought that the gesture would be taken as condescending or pitying. In thd, hd, he played out the morning as though both forms were completely normal, seeming not to notice that his companion was trapped in an altered state.

Every few minutes, one of the werewolves would call out to the newest addition to their group, but no entreaty had worked. He couldn’t hear their appeals. Packing to leave, Legolas reflexively called out to him.

*Elladan?*

As expected, silence greeted him. He nearly pitched over when a tentative thought brushed the back of his mind.

*Legolas? Is that you?*

Beaming, Legolas dropped the pack in his hands and all but dove at Elladan, the movement drawing a lot of interest from the other three members of the group when the Mirkwood prince more or less tackled the black wolf.

*You can hear me? Valar! It’s about time!*

*Aye, it is,* Elladan said, relaxing into the blonde’s grip.

Noticing the exchange, the other three elves turned to observe. The request to be pulled back to his proper shape didn’t even need to be spoken, the archer latching onto the raven wolf’s mind with stunning speed. For lack of a better term, he pulled, stretching his control and skill with clear intent. A ripple passed the length of Elladan’s body, but he remained otherwise untouched. Incensed at his initial failure, Legolas yanked more firmly, a growl rising in the back of his throat. Wisps of silvery light danced through the jet-black fur, but he remained trapped as an oversized wolf.

Elladan cried out in dismay, his brother quick to gather him up into an embrace. At the shocked looks from the elders, he shook his head grimly.

“I can’t,” the archer whispered. “I don’t think he’s capable yet.”

“It will just take time,” Elrohir was quick to suggest.

*I have to spend a whole year like this?* Elladan asked, aghast.

“No, no. That’s just how long it took us to figure it out. I’m sure if we weren’t such idiots, we’d have managed much sooner,” Elrohir whispered. “Give it a week. It will be fine, I promise.”

*I guess,* Elladan muttered. He eyed the horse he had been riding, eyes narrowing. *I don’t think I can ride any longer. I’ll have to run.*

In a silent show of support, the other two werewolves flanked him, clothes flying in all directions as Elrohir and Legolas readied themselves to fall in beside him. Elladan was shocked to see the wolves to his either side, one raven and one golden. Not sure what else to do, Elrond and Glorfindel took up the reigns of the abandoned black steeds, collecting clothing before leading the mounts as the three were wolves took up a careful lope. Elladan stumbled several times, but with the support of his companions, persisted.

For his part, Elladan adjusted rapidly, his staggering gate becoming more fluid with each stride. The sandy soil under their feet became finer, slowly shifting to dusty red littered with pebbles. Slowly but surely, the mountains melted away as they ran. The sharp almost bitter smell of pine trees faded as oaks predominated the terrain, bringing in a sweeter, muskier scent. The tall grasses became shorter, the blades thicker and paler. An occasional redwood pierced through the oak forests, the precedence of the new trees growing more common the nearer they drew to Lothlórien.

Throughout the day, Glorfindel swept his hand repeatedly, obsessively, across the back of his neck. At length, Elrond told him to desist because it would take several days for symptoms to present and the seneschal was simply driving him insane. And as Elrond constantly reminded the blond, the situation was entirely his own fault. Grumpy at being forced to accept the blame of the pairing, the seneschal remained silent and withdrawn for several days.

To Be Continued…
No, I have no shame. Glorfindel may or may not have been turned. I leave you to wonder if he was careful enough. R&R.