Orchids in 'Lorien

Ch
Orophin wondered if it would be possible for him to get sent home early so could see Legolas again, before the Fellowship departed. There had been no orc activity the entire night; perhaps the threat wasn't as great as everyone had thought. His watch being over, the guard decided to go seek solitude by the river. He wanted some time alone to think about the one he missed so much, without being constantly interrupted.

Noticing the ers ers as he walked along the bank, Orophin wondered if he might find an orchid somewhere. His eyes scanned the area for any large, fallen tree branches. Soon enough he found one on which grew a group of large, glossy leaves and a stem topped with five white flowers with pink centers. He sat upon the wood and reached for the orchids, breaking the stem near the base. After sniffing the scentless flowers he ran a finger lightly across one of the petals to feel the familiar texture. "Aye Legolas, what have you done to me?" Orophin laughed at himself; he never even noticed flowers before....

The Guardian brushed his cheek with the flowers, much in the same manner that Legolas had done before. His cock began to burn when he thought about the way his princeling had touched him. A wicked idea formed in his mind; he lifted the fabric of his tunic, exposing the bulge in his breeches, and ran the flowers across the material. Though he felt nothing, Orophin whimpered in need, remembering what such flowers had done to him the other day. He contemplated, for a moment, whether he should go any further. Lust and desire won versus reason, and the guard unlaced his leggings.

He closed his eyes and began repeating Legolas' motions down to every brush and every swirl. Drops of semen that had been brushed off the tip of his cock by some of the petals were smeared along his shaft as the flowers traced every inch of it, those areas becoming especially sensitive to the cool, morning breeze. He remembered how it felt to have his lover inside him, thrusting in and out of his tight hole. "Legolas..." He came hard, his seed spurting violently and falling onto the dry leaves below.

Orophin scrunched his nose as he started to regain his senses. What was that disgusting smell? 'Yrch!' he thought, finally opening his eyes to see a small group of amused orcs standing in front of him, watching. He had become so lost in his fantasy he didn't even hear them approach. The terrified guard tried to scream for help, but his mouth was covered before he ever made a sound.


****

(Rivendell)

The celebration began in the mid-afternoon. It was held outside, where guests could eat, drink, and dance as long as their hearts desired. The occasion: Elrond’s birthday. No one but the Lord himself knew his age, and no one dared to ask. Large tables were set with white cloth, fancy silverware, and surrounded by decorative lanterns, which would provide light once the sun would set.

Haldir sat in between Rúmil and Glorfindel. The latter had taken a liking to the Marchwarden, and had requested that the 'Lorien guards be seated there instead of at the tables reserved for others of lower status. Haldir and Glorfindel were constantly flirting, which angered Rumil.
When the Balrog slayer excused himself from the table for a few minutes, the younger guard nudged his brother's arm, "Haldir, must I remind you that you are to be bound in only a few weeks?"

Haldir sighed, "No, you must not. I am no longer sure that is what I want." Rumil let the conversation end there, deciding tht wat wasn't the time or place to speak of such matters.

The Marchwarden felt horrible. He cheated on his female lover with Celeborn, and he would do the same with Glorfindel, if only given the opportunity. He believed that loyalty was one of the most important values in a healthy relationship; but now that he developed an interest in those of his own gender he would have to sort out those feelings before devoting his life to her. Haldir forced a smile when Glorfindel returned; he didn’t want to be asked about his sour expression.

Rúmil had found an interest of his own- a dark haired Elf introduced to him as Erestor, the Chief Councilor. The two had not spoken much, yet, but shared many looks across the table. Occasionally the guard would shift his gaze to Celeborn, with a hint of longing in his eyes. He knew he had to move on, but he would cherish the intimacy he and the Lord of the Golden would had shared the night before, forever.

Haldir and Glorfindel rose from their chairs and left, shortly after finishing their food. Erestor quickly took advantage of their absence, and moved to take the seat beside Rúmil.


****

The golden-haired Lord led Haldir to his own, private wing of the house. They entered a large room, well lit with oil lamps, and with walls covered by stunning artwork. Most of the drawings were of the buildings and scenery of Imladris, but there were also a few of LothLórien, which portrayed the Golden Wood with as much beauty as it possessed in reality.

“Who drew these?”

“I did,” Glorfindel stated, proudly while pouring them each a glass of fine wine. “Do you like them?”

“Aye. You must have a great appreciation for architecture…”

“Had I not been born into nobility, I probably would have become an architect.”

“Really?” Haldir laughed in disbelief.

“Why are you laughing?” Glorfindel sat down beside Haldir on the settee and placed two glasses of wine on the small table.

“I just never imagined a warrior like you would be interested in such things as architecture and art.”

“The mind should not be limited to just one thing…”

Haldir frowned, realizing he might qualify as one whose mind was limited. “Either way, you are very talented.”

“I have other talents, Haldir. Ones you have not yet gotten a taste of…”

Haldir licked his lips in anticipation, and Glorfindel caught them in a kiss.