Feud

Chapter 30: Cruel Revelations
Minuial had chased away the gentle rain from the sanctuary and bright glinting beams warmed the quiet shelter where Erestor rested with the exiled prince held close against him. He had slept little and awakened first, concerned to find Legolas still deep in slumber but also relieved that he was at peace enough to rest as much as he needed. He ran his hands cautiously over the slim figure recumbent at his side and fingered the messy locks of felted gold.

The Tawarwaith was truly amazing. He wondered if there was any way to convince him to leave the dark loneliness of his stark isolation and come to live in Lorien. Penbara and Penraeg could look after Pen-rhovan, and there he could see him often. {And share in his considerable carnal talents!} he thought with a small leap of his heart.

Legolas must have felt the momentary surge in his companion's pulse and shifted as consciousness returned to him. He woke smiling, a rare experience since the Judgement began, and stretched agt tht the firm body curled cozily against him, tightening his arms in a welcoming hug around the seneschal's shoulders.

"Aur Maer! [Good Morning]" he said as he beamed his dazzling welcome up into the Noldo's eyes.

"And to you, Pen-rhovan!" Erestor grinned back and dropped a quick kiss onto the golden crown followed by a rub of his cheek against the hair. They cleaved one to another, blissfully contented to remain in the comfort of such closeness.

"I thank you for last night," Legolas spoke these winsome words and exuded happiness when Berenaur gave him an answering squeeze.

"It is I who should be grateful, Legolas! It was remarkable; we are well matched," he replied and felt the wild elf shaking with silent laughter, nodding wordlessly against his c.
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"Perhaps we should try and see if it is repeatable," he suggested and took a taste of the nipple so invitingly near. The seneschal exclaimed appreciatively as his penis stirred at the stimulation. Thharehared gleaming smiles and then Legolas sat up, admiring the elf that had so fulfilled him. "Come! It looks to be bright without, and the stream sounds full from the evening's rain! I did promise you would stay warm and dry yet a swim I would welcome. We can generate plenty of warmth afterwards," hid wid with genuine joy as he pulled on the Noldo's hands.

Erestor readily agreed and they exited the shelter just as they were, plunging into the invigorating brook.

They played for awhile in glorious abandon, as elflings might do, splashing and grappling each other to bring about thorough dowsings below the surface, sweeping great curtains of fluid up into cascading arcs that rained back over them. Slowly the raucous play became more subdued as Erestor began washing Legolas free of the grime their pleasure had created, and the archer responded by working away at the sticky remainders of his semen upon the seneschal's skin. Their touches became softer yet more heated and soon questing lips sealed together as they became closely entwined in each other's embra
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Lost in their rising passion, neither heard the silent approach of the Elf Lord as he entered the sanctuary.

His duties with the child had kept him several hours in the village, yet the concerns of the humans were misconstrued, for rather than suffering another setback the babe was improving. The healer had determined Cemendur was experiencing his first hunger pangs in weeks and was bawling for this lesser and more easily remedied cause. Elrond stayed and supervised with satisfaction as the child greedily slurped down the nourishing gruel made by his adoring aunt. He remained in the sick house until the boy was sleeping soundly, having checked over the injuries and rebandaged the stump of his tiny arm.

Once he was confident all was well, the Elf Lord left in search of Legolas. When an exhaustive investigation of the village proved fruitless, he located Radagast and learned of the two elves' departure, and marched out into the night.

Finding the way had been rather difficult for him under the moonless sky, and the light rain slowed his progress by slicking the detritus and duff of the forest floor. Yet Elrond actually felt easier of heart as he hiked. Revealing his suspicions regarding Thranduil and the One Ring to Legolas had been right. The archer's logical refutation had convinced him; the cursed relic was far from the reach of his adversary and the future was suddenly less dark. Indeed, even the constant rain was welcomed to cleanse the air of the lingering scent of ashes and death. He had been eager to reach the sanctuary and tell Legolas about the child's recovery, hopeful of another chance to restore the broken bond he had glimpsed so fleetingly.

Elrond could not believe what the glory of Anor revealed. His best friend and his young lover, so deeply submerged in luxuriant foreplay that the pair did not even realize they were no longer alone.

Legolas was caressing the tight contours of Erestor's buttocks while his other hand rigorously stroked the advisor's erection. The exiled archer moaned softly against his companion's lips as the seneschal held him close with an arm around the shoulders, insinuating several fingers of his right hand carefully into the wild one's arse.

Elrond glowered; every muscle constricted, and beheld the languidly sensual display unfolding. Clearly, Erestor was preparing to take Legolas, and while he was loath to witness this, the Lord of Imladris could not seem to avert his eyes from the tableau. Even as he watched his seneschal lifted Legolas up round the waist and waded to the bank, settling him there against the cushioning ferns and mosses.

With swift movements born of heightened desire the fallen prince lifted his opened legs onto Erestor's shoulders and the Noldo entered him with a thunderous cry, filling him completely with the first thrust. With every invasive impact of Erestor's cock into the wild elf, the slosh of the water swirling in eddies around the seneschal's legs competed with Legolas' excited pleas for more. The Noldo drove into him with increasing force and Pen-rhovan arched back, arms splayed out, his entire body lifted off the ground, seemingly balanced between the penis spearing him and the n ofn of his head pushed nearly backwards into the soft moist ground. He begged loudly for Berenaur to fuck him harder, deeper.

The seneschal complied and caught the slender stiffness of Legolas' cock, handling it expertly as the archer screamed in delight and came, the silver fountain of his seed shining under the brilliance of the morning sun. Erestor's orgasm followed immediately and he shouted, pounding his cock into the clenching sphincter with even greater vehemence for two prolonged lunges that stole their breaths away.

Legolas flopped against the bank with a satiated sigh and reached for Erestor, who carefully removed himself from the tight enclosure of the wild elf's body. He wrapped his arms around Pen-rhovan and lay down beside him on the bank, drawing him over to rest upon his breast.

The voyeur heard his old friend ask if Legolas was all right, if he had hurt him in any way, and could tell by Legolas' encircling embrace that the answer was only of joy and satisfaction without pain or discomfort. They held each other as their heavy breathing gradually subsided. Slowly their composure returned and the soft cadence of easy conversation began.

Elrond shuddered, recoiling from their casual intimacy, and quickly retreated from the glade. He told himself this was no more than he had instructed Eor tor to do, but the obvious delight of the couple rankled. He told himself this meant nothing to him, Legolas was merely a diversion from his lack of physical intimacy, a means to a political end, and not someone he cared abou
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But he had expected Legolas to rebuff the seneschal's wooing and had even felt slightly worried for Erestor's health when he had learned the two had left together. Legolas was supposed to choose a bond with him, not couple with the first lothario to cross his path!

He attempted to convince himself he was pleased to know the truth; Legolas was just like his mother. Ningloriel was completely selfish, maintaining a string of lovers, inconstant, faithless and incapable of sustaining a true bond. Fool he had been to seek any sort of union with the spawn of such a one!

Below his upwelling anger a sense of betrayal emerged. It seemed everyone Elrond had ever cared about had left him, and now the pattern reasserted itself.

Elrond halted his progress and wearily cast himself down upon the fallen and blasted trunk of an ancient oak. Why was he locked in this unceasing cycle of sorrow? How had he come to be so ruthlessly cursed by fate, and what injury had he done to earn such torment?

Even more infuriating, each loss had near its center Thranduil's presence. The toll of the names rang through the Elf Lord's mind: Gil-Galad, lost trying to salvage the remnants of Oropher's warriors, one of which had been Thranduil. Celebrian, lost because the Woodland King's xenophobia prevented news of the Orcs in the High Pass from reaching Imladris.

Yet even more than these, the loss of Ningloriel burned against his soul.

The image of the Danwaith Queen filled his mind as he recalled the moment of their meeting. He had been in Lorien for some years when she arrived to visit her sister. Knowing nothing of her and little of her people, Elrond considered the Wood Elves too simple to offer anything of substance to the splendor of Imladris.

But she had known of him, had searched him out, and boldly stated her intentions. Not waiting for her father to petition the match or for Elrond to perform the appropriate rituals of courting, she had ticked off the tally of the advantages their mating would produce, listing the beauty of their resulting offspring foremost! They had coupled that very night and the fiery joining had been incomple, le, for she was both demanding and extravagant in her fulfillment.

The experience had overwhelmed him and Elrond fell under the Woodland inu's spell, instantly wishing that his negotiations with Galadriel had not been so close to summation. He had already secured Celebrian's betrothal and to renege would have been not only brutally crude but also would have earned him an enemy of far greater power than he cared to face.

Had Ningloriel only arrived a mere handful of months earlier! Elrond would have sought to ally with the Danwaith, stretching Imladris' borders across the Misty Mountains. If he had known of her sooner, Ningloriel would have provided him with an exciting and satisfying union, a vast realm of great potential, and revenge upon Oropher.

Instead, it was Thranduil who wedded the impetuously passionate Sylvan, securing the ongoing support of the forest folk and continuing the regency established by his sire.

The philandering had continued. Thus he had developed his scheme regarding her usefulness as an informant against her husband to account for their frequent rendezvous. Convincing Galadriel of this had been easier than he would have thought. Indeed, he spoke the lie so often he even persuaded himself, and Celebrian had behaved as though the affair did not exist. When little news of value resulted from Ningloriel's gossip, no one seemed to notice or care.

But she had changed. Or perhaps, he considered, he had just come to understand her. After the birth of Arwen she had begun speaking of her aversion to Thranduil's touch, bitterly bemoaning his insistence that she produce an heir. Even so, it had been several loa before Legolas arrived. The child's birth had heralded a complete break with her role as wife, and the concept of motherhood she seemed to regard as an affront. It was then that Elrond realized the truth; Ningloriel had expected him to refuse Celebrian the comforts of their marriage bed as a sign of his love for her. This was never openly discussed, but was aired through the Elf Lord's indignance over her kept pet guardsman.

She refused to relinquish Maltahondo. That bond she neither tried to hide nor justify. She needed him; that was the entirety of her argument. Whenever the issue arose, she brought up Celebrian. If he rationalized using the import of his alle toe to Lorien, she resentfully reminded him he possessed an equal power in Vilya. A power, she always added, that might lift the strain of darkness from her lands and return her people to tranquility.

And in the end she had left him, choosing to take Maltahondo with her, and this too was influenced by Thranduil through his decision to take a consort and beget a new heir.

How it burned, the faulty, callous nature of her feeble affection for him! Elrond would never admit to himself that she had wounded him deeply when she left forever. He disregarded his original motives for their entanglement, underlain with desire for vengeance upon Thranduil and lust for her sex. Likewise, he refused to consider what drove him to profane possession of the ostracized prince, never acknowledging his obsession was constructed from the identical blueprints, only replacing Ningloriel with the son she had so readily abandoned.

{Legolas. So very like his mother: wildly passionate, beautiful to behold, entirely wanton, and completely selfish. Are all in Ningloriel's line so false of heart?} he thought morosely.

TBC