Of Human's and Elves

BONDAGE AND DISCIPLINE
by Janet Elizabeth

A few more days and they would finally be on the road. Boromir couldn’t wait. It would mean more privacy from the prying eyes of these wretched elves, even though it would become more difficult for he and Aragorn to find time alone. Nonetheless, any stolen moments would still be better than having to hide every time they wanted to kiss or make love.

Boromir smiled as he thought back to the days after his realization that he loved Aragorn. It had been sweeter than anything he had ever imagined it would be. In his mind, it even rivaled what the poets claimed could be had between a man and woman. He could not think that any love could be stronger. He was sure that his liege felt the same, but today was a good day to ask. The dour Tirithean was searching for his dearest one to tell him how much he loved him. He was bursting to reveal his heart and so was in search.

He had wanted to tell him after breakfast, but the Dunedain had gone to bid his elven promised goodbye as she traveled with her brothers over the borders of Imladris. So he had bided his time by sharpening his sword and trying not to think of the feel and taste of Aragorn in their time alone. It had been a mistake to attempt any maintenance of his weapon in that state of mind and had sustained a stinging cut along the base of his thumb for his foolishness. He smiled as he knew that Aragorn would fuss over the cut and would lay sweet kisses along it’s fiery length.

Boromir allowed himself a daydream of that mouth and what it could do to him as he ambled through the woods and dales of Rivendell. So lost in thought was he that he almost didn’t notice the small hollow in the land. He stopped himself from falling head over heels down the gentle slope and into a grove of trees. Shaking hea head at his disregard for safety, he cleared his thoughts and began to step away from the lip of the dell. The sound of elven laughter stopped him and he peered through the trees below him in curiosity.

Moving his head to see through the leaves, he could see that there were two figures down below. Of the one, he could only see a green cloak thrown over broad shoulders, but the other was a surprise to Boromir. If he moved to the left a few inches, he could see the face of Legolas through the trees. And from the expression on the fair wood elf’s face, it seem he was enjoying himself immensely.

A grin spread across Boromir’s lips as he decided to spy and see who the lusty elf was playing with. He had no reservations about watching the elves in their sexual encounters. In fact, it was his observations that had taught him so much in the pleasing of his lover. And Legolas was a good subject to watch, as the Elf’s reputation was such that it was apparent why his father had sent him on a quest. The young Greenleaf was so lusty that Boromir assumed that Thranduil had wanted to get his son out of the way to sow his wild oats, instead of bedding every elf maid and lad in Mirkwood. It would only seem right, he thought, as Denethor had done the same with both his sons. Boromir remembered his time in Rohan with a grimace. He had been too conflicted to bed much of any one, but it had earned him a reputation asan oan of control and honor. Shaking off the bad memory, he turned his attention to the rutting Elf and his partner.

His view through the trees was limited, as he could only the see the head and shoulders of the Elf prince, but from the expression on his face his partner was doing something extremely pleasurable. Boromir smiled to himself and felt his manhood twitch with excitement. But his frustration made him want to see more and he decided to move to a better location. Searching quickly, he soon found a place where the trees were less dense and in he crouched down he could see all of the activity below him.

He loosened his leathers andtledtled himself on his haunches, with his hand inside and teasing his manhood. He was pleased with the view he had now, for he could see all of Legolas’ body, which he admired for it’s litheness and pale complexion. The Elf’s head was thrown back and his face bore an expression of intense pleasure. Boromir’s eyes followed the delicate line of the slender, arched body to the top of the head of the companion that was pleasuring the Elf. A stab of recognition washed over him and he shook his head in disbelief. It looked like Aragorn down there, but he didn’t want to believe it. His doubts were blown away as the figure bending over Legolas raised his head, and the face of his beloved was revealed and shown to be pleasuring the cock of the Elf.

Boromir fell bacd lad landed sharply on his buttocks. A sharp stick poked him uncomfortably as he lay there listening to the sound of his heart pounding in his chest and the laughter and cries of pleasure from below. His blood boiled and his thoughts seethed at the betrayal he felt overtake his emotions. Tears sprang to his eyes as he surged to his feet, his thoughts roiling with rage and hurt.

*...how could he do this to me...how could he...i love him .. does he not love me ... i gave myself to him .. i would give anything to him... i would be his steward ... he would be my king ... but he has betrayed me for that whore of an elf ... that wretched beastlingst-bst-born ... so haughty and so proud... expecting everything and everyone to fall at their feet ... acting all knowing ... taking what does not belong to them ... ... ... and my love ... so dear ... betrayer ... *

Boromir tore his gaze away from the two frolicking lovers and flung himself away into the forest. Tears ran down his face and it was well that none met him for his mood was fell and rage engulfed him. In time, his anger cooled to a deeper and darker fury and he finally felt able to seek the haven of the house and his room. He quickly and quietly slipped into his quarters and sat in the dimness, plotting his revenge upon the Elf and his lover.

*later that night*

Boromir had waited in his room until full darkness covered the valley of Imladris. He waited until the moon rode away and the night was old. Then, he lifted himself from his chair and slipped into the hallway. His feet led him to the quarters that were held by the visiting Elves from Mirkwood and to the door that he knew led to the Prince’s room. He knocked once, sharply and then slipped the note that he had earlier composed beneath the door. With a grim smile, he then slipped away quietly to settle in a nook, out of sight but within range of the Prince’s door so he could see that his message was received.

After a few moments, the door opened and the dreamy eyed Elf stepped into the hallway, clutching Boromir’s note delicately between two fingers. He glanced around with a puzzled look but didn’t see the Tirithean despite his keen elf sight, and then opened the note. Boromir watched him read it and then smile to himself. Then with a final glance around the hallway, he tucked the note into his sleeve and closed the door behind him. Grey blue eyes watched the fair Elven Princeling tiptoe away towards the door outside. Soon, Boromir followed in his wake.

*a short time later*

Boromir stayed far enough back so that the keen ears of the elf wouldn’t hear him following him. They had almost reached the same dell that he had discovered the two lovers in earlier that day. The dour man wanted as much privacy as possible for what he was about to do to the Princeling and he wanted to do it in the place where he heen een betrayed.

He saw Legolas stop briefly and then slip down over the lip and into the shallow valley. He waited until he saw him sit down with a sigh on a fallen tree. Savoring the moment of his triumph, Boromir paused and couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the elf Prince. He was a lovely thing to behold with his fair, silvery hair, his dark eyes, the high cheekbones and the pale skin lit with warmth from beneath, the full mouth and it’s perfect teeth, strong clean limbs, a well muscled but slender torso, slim hips and long sinewy legs. A sigh escaped from the future Steward’s lips and he shook himself. He couldn’t wait to hurt that beautiful betrayer.

He stood there, a moment longer, unsure now how to approach, when the decision was taken from him.

“You can come down now man of Gondor.” came the sweet trill of the slightly accented voice of the elf Prince.

Startled, Boromir jumped forward and loped down into the small valley to face the elf with a sneer on his face. Legolas just smiled at him, his eyes studying the tall man with the first stirrings of lust filling his gaze. Ire rose in the tall Tirithean and he reached out to slap the Elf’s face. Legolas’ head rocked back and the side before snapping back upright. His fair face was suffused with blood and his eyes bore a look of hurt and answering rage. He opened his mouth to speak but Boromir slapped him again brutally. This blow rocked the Elf Prince’s body and he staggered and fell from his perch on the fallen tree. He crouched on the ground, not looking at the tall man and covering his injured cheek with one long hand. A smirk flared across his attackers mouth.

“I saw you Elf.” Said Boromir scornfully. “I saw you and Aragorn and your filthy acts.” He leaned close to Legolas’ ear and hissed at him. “I saw you!”

The Prince looked up from where he cowered, his eyes boring into the man’s. His mouth was twisted into a grimace as he stood and faced his attacker.

“And I saw you, Captain of Gondor. I saw you both making love and I wanted to taste some of the line of Isildur for myself. I couldn’t let you have it all, now could I? You should learn not to be so greedy, nor to two-faced. You cannot condemn me for my actions when you yourself are a lover of your own kind. Not that I blame you. A man of your position must be desperate at times.”

Boromir’s face turned purple in his rage and he grabbed the Elf by the shoulders and thrust him against the fallen tree. Then, reaching inside his tunic, he pulled out a coil of elven made rope and began to truss his victim up by his hands and feet. In moments, the unresisting elf was bound about the wrists and ankles and had a coil of the silken rope thrust between his lips and teeth and pressing against his tongue. The look in Legolas’ eyes was one of pain but something more. Boromir ignored the strange gleam, so intent was he on punishing his rival.

Finally, he was satisfied that the Elven Prince couldn’t move or cry out and he pushed him to the ground to cower while he sat on the fallen tree trunk and caught his breath. Sneering down on his victim, he reveled in the pain he saw in the Elf’s eyes. Again he caught a faint gleam of some other emotion that was warring within the Princeling, but he let it be for now. He didn’t want to hear any apologies or any more recriminations. He was the betrayed one and the Elf was his betrayer. He knew in his heart that Legolas had seduced Aragorn and was determined to put things to rights by educating the Elf in who belonged to whom. Calming himself, he reached down and pulled the Prince up to face him.

“Now, you cannot accuse me of any wrong doing with Aragorn for your tongue is stilled my pretty Princeling, and what passes between my liege and myself is none of your affair. I care not for your needs or wants, but you must understand that Aragorn is mine as I am his and the pleasures we share are not for you nor any other to judge me. I will show you what happens to Elves who step out of place and try to steal what is not theirs.” He spat the words at Legolas who winced at every shake and bitten off remark.

With a feral grin he pulled the Elf into his arms and settled him face down over his lap, as if to administer a spanking to an errant child. And a spanking was just what Boromir had in mind, but not the kind that is used to teach but one that would cause the greatest amount of hurt and suffering. A whimper escaped from the Prince as he realized what was about to happen but Boromir pinched the tip of his pointed ear hard and the whimpering stopped. As soon as he was sure that the Elf knew what was about to happen, he reached underneath the supple body and began loosening his breeches.

When he had loosened them enough to remove them, he pulled them down roughly not taking any care to ease the soft leather over the Prince’s Elfhood. A sharp inhalation from his victim made Boromir smile. He then observed the delectable backside of the Elf in his lap and felt a twitch in his loins.

* ... he is truly beautiful and i cannot blame my liege for falling prey to this lovely elf .. would that i had encountered this princeling first then perhaps instead of a king of men i would have a prince of elves to take to my bed .. but no ... things are right as they are ... aragorn is my destiny and no one shall wrest him from me ... i will appease my wounded heart by showing this delicious elf that not always pretty wins the day ... and perhaps i can take some pleasure from him too ... i do so enjoy meting out discipline...*

He stroked his hand down over Legolas’ ripe, round rump and wondered at the softness of the skin beneath his fingers. His cock twitched again inside his leathers and he felt it begin to grow. His hand ran lower over the mounds of the Prince’s buttocks and caressed between the thighs to stroke the balls and shaft below. He tickled softly to make his victim squirm slightly and then he raised his hand high. He brought it down with a resounding smack on the firm, smooth flesh, enjoying the twitch it brought from the Princeling. He raised his hand again and again, bringing his justice down upon the delectable posterior with increasing verve. Each blow caused Legolas to squirm and twist in his desire to get away from the rain of hurt that Boromir delivered.

The Tirithean grew more and more aroused as he watched pale, gleaming skin go from soft white to rose red and then to the color of blood. He didn’t stop until there were cracks and splits in the warm mounds and rivulets of blood left smears on his hand. Finally, when his hand had begun to sting and the muscles of his arm to cramp, he stopped and gazed sweaty browed and panting at his handiwork. With a chuckle, he then reached between the legs of the Prince to grasp his slender member.

He was shocked to find that the shaft was turgid and the testes filled to firmness. He pulled his hand away and then grasped his victim by the hair, pulling his head around to look in his eyes. What he found shocked him even more. There was a light in Legolas’ eyes that was like an inferno of desire and pleasure. He could see his face was almost as flushed as his ass and beads of sweat dewed his skin. There was a pleading look in the Elf’s eyes that seemed to be begging for more punishment, but Boromir was suddenly struck with shame at what he had done and how it made him feel. He had never before done such a thing as this, nor for such a reason and he was sickened by his feelings of arousal at Legolas’ pain. Tears stung his eyes and he thrust the Prince away from him. He buried his face in his hands and wept, ignoring all else around him.

When the fit passed, he again looked up at his victim. Even in his pathetic state, disheveled and disrobed, hardened cock standing out from his slender body and his tortured buttocks bleeding, Legolas still looked beautiful. Lovely dark eyes met his own blue-grey ones and begged him for something. Boromir could take it no longer. He rose from his perch and gently pulled the Elf to his feet.

“I am sorry my friend.” He whispered to Legolas, tears staining his voice. “I am too much in love and not secure in it. Perhaps my lover finds me unworthy and you are his true solace. I have done you an injustice. I will release you and hope that you forgive me. I hope that you do not expose my secret to the lord of this house, nor your father, nor Aragorn. I have shamed myself, my father and my people. I will reject all earthly pleasures and devote myself to this quest. I am sorry.”

With that, he began to quickly and carefully unbound the Prince. When all the coils were removed he covered him in his own cloak, leaving the rope to rot where he let it fall, and picked him up gently in his arms. With great regard for the Elf’s comfort, he carried him quietly back to the house and deposited him in his room. Legolas said nothing, tears merely filling his eyes and desire that Boromir refused to see. Then, the Tirithean took back his cloak and with a final apology he fled from the room. Legolas lay face down on his bed and closed his eyes. After a moment, he arose and limped his way to the bathing room where the medicines were kept. As he reached candlelit room, he looked at himself in the mirror.

“I have been unthinking and done us all an injustice. I will not let this break us my friend Boromir. I vow.” he whispered to his reflection and then began to administer to his damaged flesh as best he could.

Continued in NOT TONIGHT