One Thousand Books

Title: One Thousand Books, 3/3
Author: Eawen Penallion
Email: cross_stitcherire@yahoo.com
Type: FPS
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Warnings: Slash, very bad humour!
Pairing: Saelbeth/ Melpomaen, Glorfindel/Erestor (implied)
Beta: Nienna, with grateful thanks
Timeline: FOTR, Rivendell.
Disclaimer : JRR Tolkien owns these elves, I am just playing with the Arc Archive: OEAM, Melethryn, AFF


Author's Note: This story was inspired by an episode of the SF TV series called 'Babylon5', which features two very minor characters and follows them around the station during a tense conflict. The major characters are featured as incidents or 'meetings' in their daily work. I have transferred it to Rivendell, at the time of 'Many Meetings' and 'The Council of Elrond' (FOTR), and my elves have made it slashy. BTW, The B5 episode is 'A View from the Gallery', series 5, and the characters were Mack and Bo.


Chapter 3

Melpomaen stared out of the library window across the gardens, and sighed. Winter had come, and the leaves had finally fallen - nay, had been blown off the branches of the trees by the blustery gales. Even Lord Elrond's magic could not hold back the procession of the seasons. Melpomaen shuddered, and drew the warm wool robe tight around his body, but it was not the chill of the air that made him shiver. it wit was the cold and lonely ache in his heart, which had been there since the incident in the garden with Saelbeth. The secretary had forgiven him immediately when he had apologised for his careless words, had smiled and laughed and had taken the blame on himself.

"How could you know, meldir, when I had not told you? Be at peace, Melpomaen. We are still friends. 'Buddies', yes?"

"Aye, 'pals'," he had replied and, so it seemed, that incident was over.

Melpomaen sighed again. If it was truly over, then why did his heart ache? Saelbeth had reverted to his old self - his friend, his companion, the audience to his jokes and quips. No, it was Melpomaen himself who had changed, who felt and acted in a different way. He slid around Saelbeth now, he crept, he mentally tiptoed in his presence, not wishing to unwittingly intrude upon the secretary's gentle sensibilities. For the hurt he had caused still made him flush with shame, and that shame had almost damaged their friendship. It had alsoduceduced a new feeling, an emotion that he could not define, save that it filled his soul and impinged on his heart. The feeling was new, and different.

And it scared him.

****

The Hall of Fire was deserted at this time of the morning save for a few servants cleaning the floor. Melpomaen and Saelbeth had moved their task here, for Erestor was giving instruction to a new intake of junior scribes and librarians. It was his place as the most senior scholar to guide them through the intricacies of cataloguing and recording, filing and sorting. After that, they would fall under the jurisdiction of these two elves.

"I feel sorry for them."

"Who?"

"The new batch - you know, the novices."

"Oh. Why?"

"Well, a whole morning with Erestor lecturing at you. Intimidating, and *very* boring."

Saelbeth grinned in understanding.

"I remember my first weeks well," continued Melpomaen, dusting the spine of the blue-bound ledger. "I scribbled note upon note, frantically hoping that I would be able to remember the prestigious amount of long-winded information Erestor was spewing out. *Then * I came to write up my notes into a more organised fashion, and found that they resembled the tracks of a drunken Mirkwood spider as it danced on eight stumbling legs across the page! They were useless!"

Saelbeth burst out laughing and Melpomaen chuckled too, glad to have made his dear friend happy.

Dear friend.

It was not the way he normally referred to Saelbeth, either verbally or in the quiet of his mind. He quite liked the terminology though. He looked at the secretary, hesitating before framing his next words.

"How did you feel, 'Beth? On your first day?"

Saelbeth glanced up at him from his own stack of books and smiled gently. "A bit scared," he admitted. "I was quite young and Erestor was such a renowned elf - counsellor, librarian and warrior. Even though he was kind to me, he still projected an air of superior intellect that scared me stupid. But I soon got over that, and came to admire him openly, and with great love."

Melpomaen looked up sharply. "Love?"

"Love - but only a student's respect for his teacher, I swear!" Saelbeth said. "Elbereth, Glorfindel would have killed me if I attempted more! He and Erestor had but recently bound themselves, shortly before Celebrían's wedding to Elrond. Eru help any elf who imposes on either Erestor or Glorfindel, for the wrath of either would be enough to shake Arda apart!"

Melpomaen grinned in response to Saelbeth's anecdote, but inwardly wondered at his own response to Saelbeth's admission of admiration of the chief counsellor. His heart had lurched - suddenly, unexpectedly. He now felt panic, not knowing why he had reacted as he did. His self-control, his nonchalance and his bravado, all features of his overt personality, had been severely shaken in the last month. He was losing control and he didn't know the reason why.

Surreptitiously glancing at Saelbeth, who was now bent over the books once more, Melpomaen pondered on what he had learned in the past few weeks. He had taken Arwen's advice and had read the book that had been such a catalyst to his recent internal conflict. He now had an appreciation of the Wood-elves, and of the impact of the Sindar upon the history of Middle Earth. In many ways he found that he admired them for their true love of Arda and their strong links to nature. The Sindar had a passion and an energy that seemingly had been lost by the Noldor. The so-called 'refinement' of his race should instead be called ennui, a distancing of their souls from the real world in their weariness and longing for a return to the Undying Lands. Few Sindar had taken the Straight Road. They were bound to Middle Earth, and were yet attuned to the burgeoning life therein. In which case, Saelbeth was a contradiction. Whereas Prince Legolas exhibited the fiery, passionate nature of the Sindar, Saelbeth was of a much gentler kind, and not inclined to impulsive behaviour. It was his quiet actions and thoughts that had led Melpomaen to believe his friend a Noldo.

"So what have you chosen?"

What? Melpomaen blinked, then realised that his contemplations had made him miss his friend's question.

"I'm sorry 'Beth. What did you say?"

"Ai, I *must* be boring! I asked if you had chosen my forfeit for winning our bet at the Council? It is over a month since then, and you haven't yet demanded anything of me. So what will it be? A quill? A robe? Please do not make me clean your bathroom again, for *nothing* is worth that!"

Melpomaen shook his head. "Your forgiveness? For it is all I crave at the moment..."

Saelbeth looked alarmed. "Mel - do not tell me that you still dwell on *that*! No, no - that deed is long past and any forgiveness was given freely, without need to ask, long ago. My dar- dearest friend, do not waste your energy and brightness on such a small matter - or your win either!"

Melpomaen smiled weakly. "All right, if you say so. I just feel - oh, such a young and foolish elf..."

"Ai, that is one reason I never admitted my age to you! I still feel too young to be looked up to. I'm not an ancient elf like Glorfindel or Erestor, thank Eru!"

"If you really mean it...?"

"I do."

As he bent over his task again, Melpomaen suddenly remembered something. "Saelbeth, you called me 'Mel'! You *never* shorten my name!"

The secretary looked up, and Melpomaen was confused to see a pensive look in his green eyes. Saelbeth laughed, a brittle sound.

" No, I don't, do I? Um, weird." And they said no more on the subject.

****

Yuletide was near upon them, and the mammoth task was almost at an end. Melpomaen was both elated and disappointed. He had never before spent so much time working with Saelbeth, and in the end he had enjoyed it so much. Saelbeth had finally opened up about his past, talking about growing up in Lothlórien; about his parents, and his younger brother Affileg. However, the most surprising matter of all was Saelbeth's kinship to Prince Legolas. "My mother was cousin to Oropher's queen," the blond elf had said. "They were close when they all lived in Doriath, but when that kingdom was destroyed their paths diverged. I reclaimed my kinship only recently, on a diplomatic journey made some time ago to King Thranduil's court. The King was most kind, and Legolas and I met briefly."

On the subject of his admiration for Lord Celeborn, Saelbeth was most clear, praising the wisdom of the silver-haired elf. "Don't be fooled, Melpomaen. Lady Galadriel's powers may provide the magical protection about the Golden Wood, but it is Lord Celeborn's practicality that rules Lothlórien. The Galadhrim are at *his* command, and answer to his demands. He is a wise and cunning warrior, and truly is the heart, energy and soul of the realm. Though his love for the lady is deep and constant, his love for his land is deeper still. He is Sindar - passionate, protective, active. It is at the centre of our being. What we have, we hold - firmly."

Melpmaen dwelt long on these words, seeing those same emotions now within Saelbeth, but somehow they were muted. Something had happened to his friend to cause those fires to falter, to glow as embers instead of burning bright. He felt that it had something to do with Saelbeth's family. The Sinda had talked about them with great affection. His father had been a scribe and an advisor to Lord Celeborn, and his mother was a healer. He had also spoken with great love of the younger brother - but always in the past. When asked about them now, Saelbeth had simply said that they no longer resided in Middle Earth.

Melpomaen sighed again. The last fifty books lay on the table behind him but he had no interest in finishing the task, for he was alone. This morning Saelbeth had been asked to take a message to the human village down the valley and had not yet returned. He would probably be back soon, and Melpomaen had thought to finish the dusting as a surprise for him, but his mood had pulled his attention away from the tomes and to his memories.

He made a decision. If he could not work then he would walk, for surely the exercise would clear his mind and lighten his day. Without a backward glance at the untidy pile, he strode out of the room.

The wind was brisk and chill, and there was the smell of snow upon the air. As he walked along the garden paths he saw a great amount of activity, as the inhabitants of Imladris gathered the holly and the evergreens that would, with candles and bright ribbons, decorate the Hall of Fire for the imminent solstice. The elfing still within him grinned at memories of gingerbread and spiced cakes, and rich raisin puddings set aflame with brandy. Aye, and Mithrandir was still in Imladris, so hopefully that meant a display of his impressive fireworks. Certainly the hobbits had waxed lyrically about the exhibition that had lit the sky over the Shire for Bilbo's Birthday Party, all those years ago.

As he skirted the training grounds he heard voices from beyond the hedge, recognising them as the dwarf, Gimli and the human lord, Boromir.

"Nay, it is too long to be swung comfortably. It may look pretty, but I cannot get the balance of the thing."

"Aye, it is fine workmanship indeed. Perhaps you hold it wrong, Boromir. Perhaps you should hold it with two hands."

"You are right, Master Gimli," said a third voice, and Melpomaen started when he realised tht bet belonged to Saelbeth.

"Indeed?" said the dwarf. "Then it is good that you were passing, Master Elf. So how should it be held?"

The elf hesitated. "Well, I am supposed to attend Master Erestor, for I return from his errand but - oh, it will only take a moment."

There was a sound as if Saelbeth was placing a heavy burden on the ground, and Melpomaen hurriedly searched and found a break in the hedge where he might observe, yet remain unseen.

Saelbeth had lifted the long elven sword, obviously one borrowed from the armoury. He held it easily, with the air of one familiar with its use.

"You hold it like this, my lord," he was saying, "as if it were Master Gimli's axe. It is then swung in one fluid motion. The steel is sharp enough to cut right through an orc." Saelbeth swung the blade expertly, and continued through a series of moves that showed that he was an expert. Melpomaen was astounded. This was Saelbeth, his friend - and a scribe! Who was he really, that he could use a sword with such distinction?

"An elegant weapon then," said Boromir admiringly, then he chuckled and slapped the sword at his hip. "Yet I think somehow that I will lay my faith in a more familiar blade."

Saelbeth smiled and handed the elven sword back to Boromir. "I hope that I did not show myself as too rusty in my skills, for it has been three millennia since I last wielded a weapon in war."

"Aye, but you're not bad, laddie. Not bad at all. I hear Master Elrond has still to decide on those who should go with Gandalf and the hobbits. Perhaps you should volunteer."

Melpomaen's heart froze. He stood as if he were one of the many statues gracing the gardens, dreading to hear Saelbeth's reply. He wouldn't go, would he? He couldn't, he simply couldn't! The dark elf did not breathe; he so needed to, yet dreaded, hearing Saelbeth's answer.

"You overestimate my skills, Master Dwarf. Lord Elrond would not choose me, not when there are so many fearsome and active warriors at his command - Lord Glorfindel, for one. Yet if I were called upon then yes, I would answer, of course."

Melpomaen did not hear the rest of the conversation as Saelbeth made his farewells. His mind was a whirl, a churning mass of thoughts and emotions, and he stood still at the centre of the maelstrom. Saelbeth, to go? Saelbeth, to leave him? No, every fibre of his being shouted 'No'; every sentient cell cried against the possibility. He - he was - Ai, Saelbeth was his... his 'pal', his 'buddy'. Saelbeth couldn't go! Who would laugh at his jokes? No, he couldn't go, for then who would smile as he rolled out his continuous commentary on the happenings of Rivendell? Who would twinkle his merry green eyes at caustic asides and slyly witty comments? Who would help him finish the books?

Aye, that was it. Saelbeth could not go, for they had to finish the one thousand books. And with that slim hope, Melpomaen made his way back to the house and his work. And his mind did not allow his soul to scream out the true reason why he would not let SindSinda go, for as yet it would not allow his heart to admit it.

****

Saelbeth was worried. Very worried. It was now the eve of the solstice and the celebration of Yuletide, and he should be filled with the joy of the season but how could he be, when Melpomaen was acting so out of character? Indeed he could not fathom him at all. In the past week he had been in turn both captured by his friend *and* rejected in turn. It seemed that at one moment Melpomaen could hardly bear to let him out of his sight and then the next minute he pushed him away. It had happened again only minutes ago, when Saelbeth had suggested for the tenth time that day that they complete their task, and had tried to pick up a book from the small pile left to dust. Melpomaen had practically ripped it from his hands.

"It's Yuletide!" his dark friend had cried. "You can't work at Yuletide."

Which had been a fair enough point today, but he had said the same thing for the past week. Saelbeth was concerned, for these books had haunted their dreams and had plagued their waking hours. Why would his friend now wish to delay completing this onerous chore?

Melpomaen was now bustling around the shelves of the deserted library, taking out a book here, checking one there. Make-work, obviously. Saelbeth could stand it no more.

"Melpomaen, what *are* you doing?"

"Working," the dark elf replied, reaching for another book. Saelbeth's hand grasped the slim wrist, and the secretary was surprised at the sudden flinch by Melpomaen. He pulled the trembling librarian to face him, seeing his wide brown eyes blinking frantically, and he wondered at the shivering of the slim frame.

"Melpomaen, what in Arda is wrong? What has happened to make you so scared?" he beseeched the young elf. Melpomaen gulped, then took in a deep breath to calm himself.

"I want to claim my prize, Saelbeth. I want to know your story. I want to know how you learnt to wield the long sword, to swing it as an expert. Who are you, Saelbeth?"

Saelbeth looked deep into those soft brown eyes, seeing the fear of loss evident within them, and long-lost hope began to stir within his breast. Still holding the trembling hand, the secretary drew the elf over to a padded bench, indicating that they should sit.

"There is no need to claim your forfeit, Melpomaen," he said, gesturing the protesting librarian to silence. "Do not waste your boon, for this is something that I should have told you long ago. I take it that you overheard my conversation with the human and the dwarf?" A nod. "Then you will have heard that I last picked up a blade long ago - three thousand years, in fact."

"You fought at the Battf Daf Dagorlad," whispered Melpomaen, his eyes never leaving Saelbeth's face. "You stood in front of the Black Gates."

"Aye," Saelbeth nodded. "I, and my father and brother. We were all part of Lord Celeborn's army, all under the command of the High-King. We were there for the whole siege, the long dark years. Such darkness can weary the soul, Melpomaen, yet my brother was a bright soul. Bright and witty, much like yourself. He should not have been there.

"Affileg was a gentle child and he took after my father, a scholar at heart. It was assumed that he would take that path, for he seemed fated for it - yet he chose another fate. As for me, although I had an interest in books and lore, I was the more active child of the two of us, the more intense. When the time came to choose my path in life I immediately enrolled in the Galadhrim. They were my idols, my heroes, and I wanted to be one too. And in turn I was a hero to my brother, so when he came to make his own choice, he chose to follow me. I was delighted, for we were close and I longed to induct him into my company. Yet my parents mourned, for they knew the dangers of our vocation. Still, they would not stand in the way of our wishes, and they bade us to stand firm and proud, and to carry out our duties with honour.

"Then the call came to prepare for war. My father joined us, for an elf of Doriath, of Lindon and Evendim could not live through two ages without learning the skills of a warrior. We followed our lord to battle. We followed him to Mordor."

He paused, and Melpomaen could see the pain marring his face. Saelbeth realised that the younger elf ached for him, and he smiled to reassure the librarian.

"That last day, that fated day, we stood close to the army of Lindon, for many warriors had already fallen and we were sent to fill the gaps. We were near to Gil-galad when Sauron blasted him into a charred relic. So many of his personal guard were caught in the blast, and they died too. Instinctively we knew that we could not let Gil-galad, our bright and shining king, lie fallen and alone, could not leave his body open to desecration by the foul enemy. We formed a circle around him. Noldor, Silvan, Sindar. Affileg stood beside me, and we all fought and killed any of the beasts that tried to penetrate our circle. When the Ring was cut from that dread hand, the fighting ceased and the cost was counted. There were only two of the circle left standing - and my brother was not one of them.

"They never blamed me, my parents. On our return to Lothlórien my father and I gathered my mother into our arms and wept for him. They left soon afterwards for the Grey Havens, and Valinor. I could have gone too but I decided to remain, for I was still young and had a strong bond to Middle Earth. Yet I had heart no longer for war, and so I took up a scholarly life, somewhat in remembrance of my brother. Do not feel that I have been burdened by guilt these centuries past. I knew even then that many sacrifices had to be made by the Eldar in the fight against the Dark Enemy. My brother and I were trained warriors, and we answered that call by open and free choice. We were warriors, and it was our duty, and we knew the risks.

"When the Lady Celebrían journeyed to Imladris and her new husband, Lord Celeborn asked me to travel with her. He knew how empty the Golden Wood seemed to me without my parents or brother. I settled here in Imladris very quickly, and have had a happy and fulfilling life."

He squeezed the librarian's hand gently. "And you, my dearest friend, your friendship has meant more to me than you could ever know. You havightightened my life so much since your arrival in Imladris fifteen hundred years ago. I treasure your companionship, your wit and your lightness of heart. From the moment I first saw you, you have been the brightest star in my sky."

Melpomaen's heart pounded so loudly and violently that he wondered that it had not yet burst right out of his chest. Seeing those green eyes shining so brightly with love and hope, he now recognised the emotion that had taken hold of hn thn the past two months. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been so blind? In his desperate anguish at the thought of losing this gentle, beautiful elf, he blurted out his deepest fear.

"Do not go! Do not go, do not leave me!"

Saelbeth was bewildered. "Go? Go where? What do you fear, Melpomaen?"

Melpomaen gulped, fighting back tears. The worry of the past week now filled his chest, and he could barely articulate his words.

"With the Fellowship. I heard you! You said that if you were called that you would answer. Please, do not go..."

Saelbeth stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Had you not heard, pen-neth? The Fellowship has been chosen. The two younger hobbits go too, with Estel and Boromir for Men, and Gimli and Legolas for the Free Peoples. I was never in any danger of being asked to go, my dearest Melpomaen."

The words were softly spoken but each syllable rang as clearly as a bell in Melpomaen's ears. With a joyous cry he flung himself into Saelbeth's arms, his sobs of relief muffled against the blond elf's breast. Saelbeth wrapped his arms firmly around the weeping elf, and he murmured soothing words against the soft strands of hair.

"I will not leave you, my precious Mel. I will stay here with you for as long as you want."

'Forever,' thought Melpomaen. 'I want you forever.' He licked his lips, for they were dry with nervousness. He looked up again and his brown eyes glowed with want.

"Twice you have refused me, Saelbeth," he said softly. "Twice you have disallowed my claim, refused to give me my prize. No more. I demand it of you. I want a kiss, Saelbeth. That is my prize. I want you to kiss me."

Now it was Saelbeth who trembled, his mouth agape with wonder.

"Truly, Melpomaen? You are sure?" The plea in his voice was evident, the want and need obvious.

"I mean it, dimwit!" laughed Melpomaen, his happiness shining through his tears. "Just kiss me, 'Beth."

The Sinda did not hesitate. His grip tightened on the Noldo as his lips pressed firmly upon Melpomaen's. The dark elf opened his lips eagerly, allowing entry to the demanding, questing tongue. A thrill ran through him, little shivers of delight as he melded against the lithe body. Saelbeth loved him! All these years and he had never seen the yearning in those green eyes. 'Ai, who is the dimwit now?' he thought as he gave himself up to the glorious sensation of pure love and desire.

Saelbeth's mouth had roamed, pressing against the soft skin of his cheek, his neck; moving to lick the curve of his ear. Melpomaen shuddered, the arousing darts of passion flaring through his body and his member responded readily. He pushed his hips forward, grinding against the wood-elf, grinning with satisfaction as Saelbeth groaned his approval.

"Ai, Mel, my sweet one! We - we should not - continue this kiss, not here..."

Melpomaen knew that this was true, but the mischievous imp within him prompted him to tease his darling further.

"Why not, 'Beth? What do you want from me? What do need from me that you cannot take here, right here on the library floor? Ai, it is a little dusty, I grant you..."

"You, meleth, you! Ah Mel, please..." the secretary groaned, leaning in to claim his lips once more. Melpomaen clasped his hands to the sides of Saelbeth's face, capturing him to deepen the kiss, devouring him before releasing his honeyed mouth. He looked up wonderingly into Saelbeth's eyes.

"I was so blind, wasn't I? All these years and I never realised I l I loved you, and that you loved me too."

Saelbeth smiled gently,ugh ugh the need was still pouring from him. "We know now, I have you now."

Melpomaen nodded. "I asked for the wrong thing. I did not use my wish wisely. I should have asked you to take me; to take me to your bed and lovein ein every way."

The green eyes darkened further in desire. "Then let us go now, for I will grant you this wish and any other that you may ask of me, with a willing heart and body." He made as if to scoop his dearest one into his arms, but Melpomaen pulled back.

"Race you to your rooms!" he grinned in mischief, and without warning dashed from the library. Saelbeth gaped, then followed, giving all to the chase.

The corridors of the Last Homely House were busy but thid nid not matter to the two excited elves as they danced their way through the astonished onlookers. They finally reached Saelbeth's rooms, tumbling through the door with hysterical laughter. Saelbeth kicked the door closed as he tore at his tunic, and his green eyes sparkled with delight and desire as Melpomaen similarly cast his clothes from him.

The dark-haired Noldo suddenly paused when his thumbs hooked into the side of his leggings, ready to draw them down. There was a speculative look in his eye and his lips formed a sly smile, then he slowly undulated his hips, wriggling the pants lower as he turned in an enticing circle. Saelbeth groaned as his new love threw back his long brown hair, letting it fly seductively about his naked shoulders. The exhibition was too much to bear and Saelbeth leapt forward, grabbing Melpomaen around the waist and flinging them both onto the waiting bed. Melpomaen giggled as they bounced on the soft mattress, then gasped as the Sinda ravaged his mouth.

Hands roamed and hips were raised, allowing for removal of the unwanted leggings. Soon both were nude upon the covers, the blonde and brown strands mingled in their frenzied delight.

"Ai, I need you so, meleth," murmured Saelbeth against a taut nipple, his warm breath causing little cries to emanate from the dark elf.

"Then take me," Melpomaen breathed. "I am no virgin, Saelbeth. I have had lovers before."

Saelbeth growled. "I know, but forget them, for you are *mine* now."

"Always."

"Forever."

And Saelbeth lowered his head and claimed the thick velvet shaft in one sudden swallow.

"Aiiii!!"

Saelbeth's mouth was relentless, moving steadily around the swollen member, revelling in its smooth surface, tasting the weeping slit - licking, sucking, making Melpomaen scream.

"Meleth, I need you, I need you now! 'Bonk me brainless', Saelbeth!"

The blonde-haired elf gasped, spluttered then choked on the engorged penis. He released it and looked up at the panting librarian.

"What the -!"

Melpomaen looked down the length of his body, which shone with perspiration. His brown eyes were twinkling with desire and mirth.

" 'Tis an expression I found -"

" - in a human book. Ai, melethron, how do you expect me to make mad, passionate love to you if you make me laugh the whole time, you idiot!"

The words were growled as if in frustratibut but the secretary's shoulders shook with repressed laughter, laughter which was reflected in the smiling curve of his lips. Melpomaen chuckled again, his mouth twitching.

" 'Fuck me through the mattress', Saelbeth."

Saelbeth's eyes rolled in mock despair, then he bent down and playfully nipped the soft stomach. "Stop it, you fool, and hand me that vial of hair oil!"

Melpomaen stretched out his hand to grasp at the bottle on the bedside table, lifting it as if to examine the label.

" 'Promotes hair growth'," he quoted from non-existent instructions. "Ai, I don't want hair growing from *there* -!"

He squealed with laughter, twisting frantically away from tickling fingers as Saelbeth played them in revenge for Melpomaen's quips. A hand came over Melpomaen's mouth, blocking his protests.

"Now, my lovely jester. No more. Not another word until you scream out my name in your ecstasy."

The voice was husky, the intent clear. Melpomaen hissed as he felt the oiled finger probing at his puckered opening, and he widened his legs to allow his love to settle between them. Saelbeth's mouth teased its way down Melpomaen's body again, tasting the sweet saltiness of the young Noldo's soft flesh. Melpomaen was squirming under the avid attention, but he had taken Saelbeth's warning to heart and only the softest of gasps and moans escaped his lips. This resolve was tested severely when Saelbeth drew his tongue along the underside of the swollen shaft, curling it to lick firmly around the moist tip. Engulfing the head, he drew it into his mouth to stimulate every nerve ending; pulsing, sucking, tenderly laving every portion. Up. Down. His fingers mimicked the movement of his mouth, pressing in, twisting, pulling out. Stroking that sweet nub that was sending Melpomaen into convulsions of delight with each touch. Yet his dark one held to his silent promise. Saelbeth released the throbbing shaft and looked up into Melpomaen's eyes. They were full of a desperate dingding for fulfilment. And he would answer this call.

Stroking a generous amount of oil onto his own member, Saelbeth folded his love's slim legs up to his chest, and lifted the slender hips. Melpomaen's eyes filled his vision, the brown turned black with desire and trust. Saelbeth leaned forward and entered that velvet heat, so hot and tight that he almost came in that instant. Breathing heavily, controlling his body, the blond elf started to thrust gently, leaning into the tight grip of Melpomaen's hands upon his shoulders. He had waited for centuries, he had longed for this moment for a millennia and a half, and he was determined to savour every second.

The moment lasted a lifetime, but it still felt too short. The slow thrusts gained speed, encouraged by Melpomaen's upward movements as he claimed more, demanded everything. Saelbeth could feel his groin tightening and could do nothing to stop the rush of heat through him. Throwing back his head, sending his pale tresses flying in abandon down his back, his throat released a triumphant cry as his climax overtook him. Beneath Saelbeth, his love cried out too, for that last plunge of the thick shaft had triggered his love's own completion and stars exploded behind Melpomaen's eyelids. He felt the hot seed spurt deep within him as his own splattered across his belly.

"Saelbeth!"

The slow descent from the thrilling heights was a time of gentle murmurs and soft strokes. Firm arms pulled the sated Noldo into a possessive embrace.

"Mel," the gentle voice whispered. "My Mel. My me. Me. Melethron. My Mel."

Melpomaen curved his lips into a gentle smile, pressing them against the soft chest.

"That is why, isn't it?" he murmured. "That is why you never shortened my name. It would have been too easy to change it into those words of love." He felt Saelbeth nod in agreement.

"Too tempting, my love. I wanted you, I loved you from the first moment that I saw you - but I did not want to scare you away. Not with my love, not with my age, nor my previous life as a warrior. I did not want you to know me only as an ancient elf. I would rather have been close to you as your friend than lose you to my loose tongue."

Melpomaen snuggled closer. "Dimwit," he snorted.

"I know."

"Oh, not you - me! I was so blind, not to have realised how much I cared for you."

"But you have, finally. I love you too, Mel."

Melpomaen lifted himself onto one elbow and gazed into those beautiful green eyes. His face was solemn. "I love you, Saelbeth. I know that I act the fool, and joke and play, but I can be serious. I have never been more so in my life than I am at this moment. I love you."

Saelbeth stroked his dark love's cheek, pushing back the dark brown strands of hair from that beloved face. "I know, Mel, but I beg you, do not change. For it was the joyous elf within that I fell in love with, and your merry, cheeky grin."

Melpomaen flashed that infamous grin, then collapsed with an exaggerated sigh onto Saelbeth's chest.

"Oh, thank the gods. Going all serious was about to kill me!"

Saelbeth chuckled, hugging his elf once more.

"Aye, and as for jokes - Mel, where on Arda did you get those ridiculous phrases? I nearly died myself when you quoted them at me. I didn't know whether to continue to make love, or strangle you!"

Melpomaen started laughing again. "I told you, I got them from a -"

"- human book. Aye, I know, but where did you find it? I cannot believe that you saw it lying on one of your shelves in passing."

Melpomaen grinned. "No, it was Erestor who led me to it." He laughed again as he saw the green eyes widen. "You know the tapestry in the north corner of the library? The one of Doriath? Well, that pulls aside to reveal a door to which only Lord Elrond and Erestor have the key. One quiet evening I saw Erestor and Glorfindel slip in there, trying not to be seen. After about thirty minutes they came oookiooking rather flushed, and they ran from the library in some great haste. *And* they forgot to lock the door. So I crept in to find, ai, a veritable treasure trove!"

"Not the room of erotic lore? I had heard of this legendary secret chamber, but I did not know that it was real!"

"I dared not stay long, and only twice more have I been able to gain entry." He blushed, looking embarrassed. "I did not tell you because, well, then I did not know that I harboured any feelings towards you other than friendship. Ai, 'Beth, the illustrations are - beyond speech or imagination!"

Saelbeth smirked, and rolled the dark elf on top of him.

"Can you remember any of them?"

Melpomaen's eyes darkened.

"Oh, yeeesssss!"

"Care to demonstrate?"

And so he did.

****

Yuletide was a longed-for event, and too tempting even for two elves in the throes of new-found love to miss. They coloured a little at the knowing looks and approving smiles as they arrived at the festivities, but were too happy to be discomforted. Melpomaen pulled Saelbeth forward into the welcoming greetings of the other elves, refusing to let the retiring elf retreat.

"I'm an exhibitionist," he claimed. "To exhibit means to show off, so I am showing you off!"

And he did. Lord Elrond met them with wide arms and a delighted smile, and Erestor and Glorfindel went so far as to embrace the two lovers.

"May you be as happy as Glorfindel and I," the counsellor said softly, and this quiet blessing meant much to Saelbeth. He also glowed at the congratulations of his cousin and the enthusiastic slaps on the back that they both received from the hobbits. Though as Melpomaen said later, they were 'less slaps on the back and more whacks on the rump, due to the lack of height of our dear periain!'

Mithrandir did not offer much more than a wide smile, which surprised them for he had a propensity to expound on such subjects. However, later that night they received a wonderful accolade when a fabulous display of his fireworks concluded with a sparkling red heart, glittering in the Rivendell sky.

****

The Fellowship departed a week later, in the grey darkness of the pre-dawn hours. Despite the early hour the courtyard was full as Lord Elrond extended his blessing. Melpomaen secreted his hand within his lover's, giving it a slight squeeze in support of the prayers he knew Saelbeth would be saying for the safety of his cousin.

The elves began to turn back into the house and the courtyard quickly emptied. Melpomaen tugged at Saelbeth's hand.

"Come, my love. It is two more hours before we must start our duties, and our bed calls to me once more."

Saelbeth did not move but instead drew Melpomaen into his arms.

"There is no rush, meleth-nín, for either of us, for I asked and Erestor granted me a boon. As a betrothal gift, he has given us a day free from work. Not only that," he withdrew an object from his pocket, "he has loaned us his key. We have permission to take one book each with us to ouambeambers for the remainder of the day."

Melpomaen's brown eyes bulged at the sight of the key, and then his hand snatched it from Saelbeth's grip.

"First one to the library gets to choose the first book!" he cried, setting a good pace. Saelbeth grinned, then sprinted after him.

Across the courtyard, in a sheltered alcove, Erestor leant back into the broad arms of his bonded love, a sweet curve upon his lips. A soft voice purred in his ear.

"You are very satisfied with yourself, melethron. Your plan worked well. You are truly a consummate matchmaker."

Erestor looked up into the sapphire eyes and smiled.

"There was no match to be made, for their hearts already knew, but their minds did not care to admit their love. I but gave them a way to come together, and recognise that passion."

"Yet I am astounded by your diligence. Where *did* you find all those books?"

Erestor chuckled. "They were actually volumes that I had weeded from the archives through many years, and which had lain untouched in a store room for centuries. They were either inaccurate, incomplete or useless, or duplicates of those already on the shelves."

"And now they are back upon those shelves once more."

"Aye, but it is worth it, to finally see those two elves so happy."

"As happy as we are."

Erestor turned in his husband's arms. "Hardly! But almost..." he said placing his arms around Glorfindel's neck.

"So, who have you set your sights on next?"

Erestor pulled the golden head down and whispered in his love's ear. Glorfindel at first spluttered, then burst into loud laughter.

"Aye, they would be good together, but how will you achieve that?"

"Well, that is where you come in..."

Even as the two elves slowly made their way back into the Last Homely House, they were both aware that this had been no simple matchmaking. It was a symbol of love triumphant and hope fulfilled, a symbol for a long and happy future. Aye, just as much as a small hobbit leading a fellowship of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth would be *their* symbol of hope of a brighter future, and a world without shadows - for everyone.


Elvish:

Meldir - friend
pen-neth - little one
meleth - love
melethron - beloved (male)
meleth-nín - my love

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