Canines and Arachnids

Author’s Note: Thus we begin with the wild liberties. I know squat about elfin bonding, therefore, I get to make up whatever I want. Let the plot-holes begin!

Warnings: Yaoi smut. Pointless lemon, but fun.

Supporting Elladan in their arms, Elrohir and Legolas used their mental links to force the upset elf not to fade. It was a matter of superior numbers. Either of them alone would be struggling to keep the raven wolf alive, but the struggle of wills was too uneven with both of them holding him in place. They kept tendrils of their minds open to one another for support, sending their very life force to the fading elf. No one noticed the wisps of white mist that started to cling to their skin.

After a mere few seconds of effort, Elrohir displayed the ever-present impatience of his youth, latching brutally onto both Legolas’ and Elladan’s minds. Using the blonde’s strength, he wrenched at his twin’s spirit with irrational power, Legolas mimicking him without being told. The opalescent flickers roared to a flame.

Not watching the argument, knowing that it wouldn’t go anywhere for some time, Glorfindel glanced at Elladan to see how the two werewolves fared in working on him. He was just in time to see the white light of binding come into existence. From the intense concentration on the faces of all involved, it was clear to the balrog slayer that not one of them knew what they were doing.

Crying out at the mistake they were making, he jumped at the trio, intent on pulling them apart before permanent damage was done. Least involved in the argument, Haldir saw the problem the moment he moved after him, attempting to yank him away. The March Warden had seen enough in his life to know that it was too late to stop the three and downright dangerous to attempt to interrupt them. The blond seneschal had already snagged Legolas’ arm to pull him loose when the silver elf reached them, but he tried to pull the seneschal to safety nonetheless.

Elrond, caught by the motion of the other two elves, spun to interfere. He could already see that Glorfindel was too close for him to stop, but he tried to go for Haldir. The elf lord aimed a flying tackle at the March Warden, too pressed for time to be gentle. His leap connected just as the silver elf’s hand locked around Glorfindel’s upper arm. The three older elves were thrown into a heap beyond the werewolves. Rúmil and Orophin just watched, utterly dumbfounded by the sight.

“Idiots!” Elrond roared at the other two elves he was more or less sitting on. “Were you trying to get pulled into that?” He motioned one hand wildly at the still glowing trio. “Coming into contact with an elf in the Bonding Ceremony will automatically trigger you to do the same! Any elfling knows as much.”

“I was trying to stop him,” Haldir said in his defense, nodding his head towards Glorfindel, who wasn’t paying attention to either of them. The blond was lying motionless with his eyes glazed over, looking slightly concussed.

“You two might want to get up,” Rúmil interrupted them. “Now!” he urged when they didn’t comply fast enough.

Elrond whipped his gaze to Glorfindel’s pained face, realizing belatedly that he wasn’t hurt as originally thought. He was in deep concentration, fighting a mental battle that he couldn’t possibly win. Flickers of pearly light were running across the blonde’s skin. It took two elves to initiate Binding Rites, but once started, the powers rampaged and could connect with others. If an elf or elves were bound completely against their wishes, the bond could be redirected with the binding of a true mate or removed in a lengthy process involving magic that only a few elves of the First Age still remembered.

With matching shouts, Elrond and Haldir lunged away from the seneschal, scurrying away with absolutely no grace or dignity in their motions as they attempted to scramble to safety. Rúmil and Orophin made no compunctions about turning tail and moving far away to safe distances, avoiding any possible contact with the other elves.

Safe in the embraces of their peers, Elrohir, Elladan and Legolas were gently coming down from their experience, all three panting slightly from the surge of power. Still unconscious, Elladan curled into his brother’s arms while Legolas glanced around, ng tng to discern the nature of the frantic atmosphere around him.

Not far from them, Elrond and Haldir were on the verge of panic. Despite Glorfindel’s valiant effort to prevent the inevitable, he had flared into the telltale light of binding. The raven elf lord surrendered to his fate more readily than the March Warden, sighing despondently when he felt the first surges of energy flickering across his being. Infinitely more temperamental than his peers, Haldir cursed rabidly and swiped his hands across his arms as if to put out an actual fire rather than spiritual energy.

“What have you done?” Haldir yelled, breath catching as he felt the pull of his spirit to another. He resisted unconditionally.

“The same thing as you,” Elrond said icily. At the harsh words of the silver-haired elf, he tried to fight the bonding again. He wasn’t even sure who all he was being locked to, whether it be for all eternity or until Galadriel was able to unlink them. His soul was being pulled toward more than one other source, but he couldn’t identify the source of the targets yet since he hadn’t intentionally initiated the bonds forced upon him.

Elrond sighed deeply when he recognized the influx of feelings from both Haldir and Glorfindel, silently thankful that it hadn’t extended beyond that. Judging by the looks Haldir was throwing the two of them, he could tell that the March Warden was locked in the same trio. Glorfindel, however, didn’t seem to be as lucky as they were. On occasion, his eyes flickered to Legolas. He trembled violently.

In elfish history, rare instances of three-way bonds had been documented as successful cases, but never had four elves been involved bound without one or more going insane from the combined pulls of different spirits. It put too much pressure on the mind. Neither of the involved blondes looked entirely coherent. Glorfindel was close to passing out and Legolas had already passed into bed sed senselessness, slumping against Elrohir to force the raven elf to deal with two listless forms instead of one.

Three fourths of the group senseless, they were at a serious disadvantage. Bad had already gone to worse. And worse descended to making Mordor look like Valinor on Middle Earth.

A cluster of spiders descended on the already defenseless group. Dazed, the elves attempted to engage in combat, most failing spectarlyarly. Only halfway on his feet, Glorfindel didn’t manage more than a meager brandishing of his sword, his efforts barely swatting aside a set of fangs from finding his body before Rúmil could intercept the arachnid. The middle brother surged to the challenge, a sword in each hand as he shoved away the filthy black creature threatening his comrade.

Elrohir leapt to combat, mindless of the fact that he had no weapon in his nude state. Lurching into lupine form lea leapt astride the nearest spider, ripping into it’s back with his teeth. Several times, he made for his sword, but was always intercepted by a scaly black body, forcing him to defend his mates with his hands and fangs alone. Seeing his problem, Haldir flung his sword across the clearing to plant into a spider’s side, drawing a shriek from the creature. The action placed the blade conveniently close to the werewolf and he was quick to halfway revert and take it up.

Still witless from shock and barely this side of conscious, Legolas attempted to rise to fight in a similar manner. He lasted all of five seconds into the battle before an arching leg covered in wicked barbs caught him across the abdomen and launched him into the air. He flew a good twenty feet before bouncing off a tree and crumpling at its base. He didn’t get back up. Two arachnids closed in on his downed form, tearing at his pale flesh.

In all, there were only eight spiders. Between the three March Wardens, one of them rather dazed, and one extremely pissed werewolf, they didn’t last long. Elrond and Glorfindel stayed close to Elladan to protect the unconscious wolf. When they saw Legolas fall, the sable-haired elf lord abandoned the care of his elder son to his seneschal to charge the two spiders attacking the blond prince.

Glorfindel was hard pressed to fend off the lone spider that went after him, only managing to slay it when Rúmil charged it, sword leading. Orophin and Haldir split up, the oldest brother running after Elrond and the youngdoindoing his best to help Elrohir.

As it happened, the three remaining spiders that Elrohir was facing were already in serious trouble before Orophin could get to the battle. The enraged sword-wielding werewolf downed one arachnid even as the youngest March Warden approached. The other two were attempting to escape but Elrohir was having none of it. Slitting one partially open at the side, he gave chase to the other and left Orophin the task of finishing off the wounded spider, which he did a little shakily, stunned by the sheer violence the younger Peredhil son was displaying.

The Noldor Lord of Imladris was in dire need of assistance, having already been bitten three times by venomous fangs. He was barely sensible and struggling to keep his feet when Haldir arrived. Incapacitated or not, he was putting up an impressive effort, his sword having already claimed a total of four legs and one eye between the two spiders. Using the element of surprise, Haldir was able to lop off one of the pair’s head before they were even aware that he had appeared in their midst. Between the two of them, they were able to slaughter the final spider with minimal effort.

Elrond dropped his sword from already numb fingers as he collapsed to his knees beside Legolas, fighting to determine the extent of the injuries the blond had accumulated before he passed out himself. Haldir looped one arm around the swaying healer’s waist, steadying him as he pressed his fingers into the lacerated mass of the archer’s abdomen.

The damage was terrible. A length of intestine hung free, ending in a jagged bleeding mass, the missing section nowhere to be seen. Part of his liver was simply gone as well. Both stomach and bladder had been torn open and the bloodied gut wound was filled with filth. One kidney had been torn in half, as had his spleen. He wasn’t breathing. Had it not been for the heavy bleeding, Elrond would have believed the prince dead. The spiders hadn’t been attacking him as a potential food source. They’d been doing their best to kill him.

“Rúmil, bring every water flask we have,” Elrond barked, ordering the other elves while he was still coherent. “Elrohir, come here! Wake him up.”

“How?” Elrohir asked, struggling not to panic at the sight of his mauled mate.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Just do it!” Elrond snapped. “Glorfindel? Are you still awake?” The only answer he received wasn’t entirely coherent and he didn’t take the time to analyze it. “Orophin, bring him over here.”

The healer stuck one hand into the opened gut, pinching off the abdominal portion of the aorta in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The other elves did as they were ordered, though the Lothlórien elves didn’t understand why the elf lord was trying so hard to save a mortally wounded elf. The middle brother among the March Wardens managed to round up a total of five water flasks and deposited them within easy reach of the frantic healer. He took the water immediately, using all of it as he strove to clean out the opened abdominal cavity of the disemboweled prince. The youngest brother lowered the blond seneschal near them, not understanding what Elrond had summoned him for.

“Steady him through your bond,” Elrond told Glorfindel, ignoring the shocked looks the statement earned him.

*He’s dead. Nothing can be done for him. Why can Elrond, a healer, not see that?* Haldir wondered silently.

Glorfindel nodded numbly and reached through the accidental bond to the other blond, trying to assist Elrohir in awakening him. Pain surged back through the connection and he cried out, hands wrapping around his abdomen as he lurched back, steadied by Orophin. Haldir and Elrond both grunted as the pain resonated to them as well through the writhing seneschal. Only pausing momentarily, the healer pulled the torn loop of small intestines back to its proper place with his free hand and pinched the ends of the severed flesh together.

Elrohir didn’t allow the pain to permeate his mind, his task too desperate to allow him to falter. If he failed, Legolas was dead. Remembering how the blond had latched onto his mind some weeks back to force him to revert to his proper elfin form, he retaliated with the same move, forcibly wrenching the archer back to consciousness.

*Gods, Ro, this hurts,* Legolas whimpered in his mind.

*You have to heal yourself, same as you have in the past,* Elrohir pressed immediately. Legolas seemed not to hear him for a moment.

*Too dizzy. I can’t breathe,* Legolas said. His eyes began to glaze over again.

The reason for his problem was fairly obvious. With the damage to his gut, his diaphragm couldn’t create the proper negative pressure to allow his lungs to inflate. Cursing, Elrohir dropped his mouth to the blonde’s and exhaled forcibly. He repeated the act several times, starting to grow desperate when his mate teetered on the verge of consciousness.

“Legolas, you need to hurry,” Elrond said, sounding unnaturally testy. He was on the edge of passing out himself from the amount of spider venom coursing through his veins and had very little time to stabilize his patient.

Unable to speak, Legolas relayed what he needed through Elrohir. *What needs attention immediately? I haven’t the strength to do much.*

“His abilities are a bit limited,” Elrohir translated quickly. “What absolutely can’t stand to wait a little while?”

Elrond wanted to scream everything, but he gritted his teeth and did his best to narrow down the list as far as he could.

“The damaged arteries,” he said succinctly. “Stop the bleeding.” He turned to the three stunned silver elves. “Do any of you know how to suture?”

“That’s like sewing, right?” Orophin asked slowly. Elrond swore.

“I can,” Rúmil said quickly. His brothers threw him disbelieving looks. “What? I’m married, remember? I’ve seen my wife embroider a few items. I think I can handle it.”

Legolas ignored the arguing and tried to do as he had been instructed. He could feel blood pooling in his gut and knew he’d pass out soon. Closing his eyes, he attempted to attain a view of his damaged abdomen through Elrohir, trying to detach himself from the shock of the images coursing though the elf knight’s mind. The raven elf allowed the blond to direct his gaze so he could personally view the damage through his eyes. Seeing several long rips in what appeared to be enormous arteries, Legolas focused what little energy he had into forcing the torn edges back together to ensure he didn’t bleed out.

Finally succumbing to the spider’s venom, Elrond slumped into Haldir’s arms, senseless. The March Warden barely noticed him, eyes fixed to the damage in Legolas’ gut seemingly repairing itself. Legolas almost gave in, but Elrohir pushed him further.

*Keep going,* he urged.

*Tired,* Legolas objected.

*Use my strength if you must, but don’t give up yet,* Elrohir pleaded. Realizing that part of the blonde’s exhaustion was his own fault, he lowered his mouth to resume the artificial breathing.

Brow furrowing, Legolas did as he was bid, straining to fix what had been torn to shreds. He could feel flesh moving to accommodate his mind’s demands, sucking in a pained breath the moment his body allowed it. Tired, he drew mercilessly on his bond with the swordsman above him, causing the raven elf to sway from the drain. Knowing that the elder twin was still recovering from his own brush with death, he refused to draw energy from him, focusing entirely on the younger of the two. Elrohir held out as long as he could, finally succumbing to the rapidly depleting stores of his own endurance and slumping backwards, landing heavily on Orophin. Deprived of his primary source, Legolas rounded on Glorfindel until the seneschal too dropped. Even knowing that his abdomen was still open, he abandoned his efforts and dropped into blessed darkness.

Rúmil stared hard at the unconscious blond, wondering if he should still attempt to sew him together. The writhing organs had vanished from his sight when the skin of the prince’s abdomen pulled together, clotting blood holding the skin in place even though it clearly hadn’t healed beyond a simple scabbing. Afraid that he may do more damage, he decided to leave the injured elf alone.

The three March Wardens looked at each other somewhat hopelessly. It was already too dark to travel easily and they weren’t eager to move Legolas either. Orophin took one of the black steeds and started off to locate his and his brother’s horses to regain access to the supplies they carried. He was still a little put out that the two werewolves had chased them off as a joke. Rúmil took the other black stallion and set off to collect firewood, leaving Haldir the task of dealing with the five unconscious forms.

The eldest brother looked around miserably and tried to decide what to do with the limp bodies strewn about the area. For starters, he tossed his cloak across Elrohir to cover his nudity, finding a blanket for Legolas. Sighing, he eyed the two tents and decided to split up the five where they could best be watched. They would each have to tend one of the wounded. The two that were just exhausted could be put anywhere. After a bit of consideration, he put the twins in one tent and Elrond in the other. When his brothers returned, they could set up one more structure and move the two blondes into it. He was idly feeding a small fire he had started when Rúmil returned.

“How are they?” Rúmil called by way of greeting.

“Unconscious,” Haldir returned flatly. His brother grunted and slid off the borrowed horse to land a bit heavily under his burden of a large armload of wood. “I didn’t want to move Legolas until I had help. I’d rather not jostle him if I can help it.”

“Understandable,” Rúmil said. His eyes glittered with dark mirth. “What’s it like to be bound to a male? Pardon, two males?” He expected a violent outburst. Instead, he received a gusted sigh and a wince.

“Strange,” Haldir said honestly. “I’ve always known that the slitting of palms was only a symbol of union and not really necessary for the ceremony. But I’d assumed that that immediately bedding your bound was the same.” Rúmil was silent for a moment as he considered the statement. His eyes widened.

“Are you telling me that you’re attracted to them?”

“No… yes… Elbereth, I don’t know,” Haldir said, raking one hand through his hair. He withdrew his fingers and gazed at his palm, almost expecting to see the shallow slice from a binding ceremony. “You’ve already taken a wife and we both know Orophin is courting a maiden from Mirkwood, though he’s tried to keep it a secret. I just thought that I’d do the same.” Against his will, his eyes flickered to where Glorfindel was still sprawled in the grass. He dropped his gaze, a tick going off in one cheek. “I’ve never looked at another man like that. It’s… disconcerting to say the least.”

Teasing aside, Rúmil attempted to put himself in his brother’s place, eyeing the legendary balrog slayer with a jaundiced eye. The blond was handsome, he had to admit, but the lack of curves was something he couldn’t bring himself to overlook. Lovemaking daunted him further. He knew the mechanics of how two males bedded one another and couldn’t even vaguely understand how it could be pleasurable.

A thought struck the middle brother suddenly and he chanced a look at his elder brother, silently wondering. The oldest of the three was many centuries his senior and had never even attempted to court a maiden. As far as Rúmil knew, he was a virgin, having never even lain with a woman as an extracurricular activity. He knew it only idle speculation at best, but he began to wonder if Galadriel hadn’t set up the entire encounter, knowing what would happen to Haldir. If the eldest March Warden’s interests lied elsewhere and he was unaware of it, the Lady of the Golden Wood would take it upon herself to remedy the situation.

“What?” Haldir asked suddenly, frustrated, startling his younger brother greatly.

“What?” Rúmil echoed, his tone more confused than anything.

“You’ve been staring at me for five minutes now,” Haldir said, vexed.

“I was just wondering who would be in each tent,” Rúmil lied. He didn’t want his musings to be made known in case they were false. “I noticed that you placed the twins in one tent and Elrond in the other,” he guessed. “Orophin obviously can’t stay with the twins since I imagine that they’d be rather angry with him. I could stay with them while he looked after those two.” He motioned to the two downed blondes, feigning ignorance at the implication that the suggestion would place Haldir and Elrond together in a tent. Alone. Haldir frowned but didn’t voice his dislike of the bedding suggestions where he was concerned.

“And Legolas will be any more companionable to him?” he queried.

“I don’t think he’d be up to doing much even if he was so inclined,” Rúmil snorted. “Glorfindel seems too reasonable to do anything either.”

“Would it not be more reasonable to place me with the twins, yourself with Legolas and Glorfindel, and Orophin with Elrond?” Haldir asked.

“What difference would it make?” Rúmil asked innocently. “I doubt any of them will rise in the immediate future. Unless you fear what you may do when you’re near Elrond?”

Haldir scowled. “Would you be serious?” he snapped.

“Elrond has been poisoned,” Rúmil pointed out reasonably. “I personally saw him bitten at least twice, possibly more. He won’t awaken for some time, especially considering his mortal heritage.” He trailed off, implying that any interaction ben thn them would have to stem from Haldir himself.

Haldir attempted a death glare, but had to give in to the somewhat solid logic his younger brother had presented. Having personally inspected Elrond’s downed figure, he might have protested the claims of poisoning had he not found three sets of fang marks on the elf lord. He might have retorted with a scathing comment had Orophin not returned, leading one other horse. He’d managed to find Rúmil’s mount, but not his own. Luckily, the located horse carried another rolled up tent tied to his flank.

“What of your mount?” Haldir asked. Orophin shrugged in answer.

“He left at a much faster pace than Rúmil’s,” the youngest brother said. “I would require at least a full day to find him.”
ruggrugging, the youngest of the set lobbed the newest set of bedding at the middle brother. Orophin threw him a miffed look, but set about constructing the final tent, hooking a series of slender wooden rods together hooked through loops of cloth. He had most of it set up before he called a question to his brothers.

“Is there any more bedding?”

“Just a few blankets,” Haldir offered, rising to retrieve them from the brown horse that Elrond had been riding. He moved to strew them out inside the tent himself. “How should we move Legolas?”

“You take his shoulders and I’ll get his feet,” Rúmil said. “We shouldn’t jar him too badly that way.”

“I guess that means I get Glorfindel,” Orophin said, eyeing the blond seneschal. He bent to scoop the blond into his arms, not worried about jostling him since he was merely exhausted, not injured. He made a pained sound when he lifted the elder elf, moving to defend himself when he garnered two amused looks. “He’s heavier than he looks!” Indeed the statement was true, the blond larger than most elves in all aspects, including height, weight and shoulder width.

“I doubt Elrond was much lighter, and I managed alone with him,” Haldir said, nodding his head to the tent containing the elf lord. His mortal heritage made him a bit larger than the slender elves. By comparison, Legolas was fairly light.

“You managed Elrond yourself?” Orophin asked innocently, eyes glittering with lewd intent that earned him a dirty look from his older brother.

“Would you two get off that?” Haldir asked, irritated.

A voice chimed in sleepily from the tent containing the twins. “Getting off? I’m in!”

“I’m beginning to feel abused,” Haldir groused.

“Abuse?” Elrohir asked groggily. “I’m in.”

“One track mind, there,” Rúmil said with a snort. Louder, he called to the woken twin. “Go back to sleep!”

With a bit of grumbling, the younger twin obeyed, exhausted despite his meager attempts to goad the eldest March Warden. He went to sleep with one parting shot. “Go suck an elf!”

Haldir glared at his snickering brothers. “Laugh all you want, but keep in mind that one of you is sleeping in there.”

“So you’ve decided to bed with Elrond after all?” Rúmil asked, smirking. Had Haldir not been preoccupied trying not to jostle Legolas as they moved him onto his bedding, he’d have popped his brother upside the head.

“I don’t know why you two find this so humorous…”

“Because it’s funny,” Orophin interjected.

“But if you continue with your commentary, I will have no choice but to kick your asses so hard that I’ll have to wait for your morning rituals to retrieve my boots,” Haldir finished, glaring angrily.

Haldir and Rúmil lowered Legolas gently down onto a hastily made bedding while Orophin more or less dropped Glorfindel onto his own blankets. The blond came awake with a snort, automatically grasping for a sword at his hip that wasn’t there. His efforts ended almost immediately, his eyes lolling back in his skull as a snore escaped his lips. The three March Wardens eyed him speculatively “I “I didn’t know elves snored,” Rúmil mused.

“Sweet Eru, I have to sleep with that racket?” Orophin asked, miffed.

“Wait a minute,” Rúmil said, brow crinkling in contemplation. “You’re not putting me in with those twinned perverts, are you?”

“I’m not rooming with them and Haldir must stay with Elrond,” Orophin said slyly.

“Should we move Glorfindel to the same tent as Elrond? I’m sure he’d be upset if he missed out,” Rúmil mused.

“You both die now,” Haldir said in complete sincerity, lunging for his two younger brothers. They danced out of the tent, eluding his vengeful hands. The scuffle was short lived, ending after the eldest brother managed to plant his boots into the promised lands of their deserving rears as he had threatened.

In the end, Orophin ended up watching over the lamed blondes while Rúmil stayed with the twins. Haldir, steeling his nerves, entered the tent containing Elrond. The elf lord was in the exact position he had been settled originally, completely paralyzed by the spider venom in his veins. The silver elf rolled him to his other side to prevent the complication of bedsores, frowning a little when he noted how cold the sable elf was. Grinding his teeth, Haldir did what he had to in order to protect his charge for the night. He flopped down beside the other elf and drew him into his arms, spooning with the unconscious elf lord to keep him warm.

*He’s injured,* Haldir told himself repeatedly. *This is just to keep him warm.*

In reality, he was beginning to truly enjoy the feeling of the elf in his arms. He could feel hidden strength in the paralyzed muscles, the hard steely tone hidden beneath surprisingly smooth skin. Dte hte himself, he ran a curious hand across the sable elf’s abdomen, fingers lingering across the firmness he found, long trained muscles rock hard under his fingertips. Growing a little bolder, he snaked his hand under Elrond’s tunic and raised his touch to caress finely honed pectoral muscles, going still when his questing fingers encountered a raised nipple. After hearing many a story from his brothers, he pinched it experimentally. When the sable elf didn’t respond, he hesitated in his ventures.

*Later,* he told himself. *When he’s well.*

Haldir jolted awake at the thought. Later? What insanity drove him to contemplate takihe dhe darkling elf lying senseless beside him? The mostly innocent exploration he had indulged in surely hadn’t debased him so far as to lie with another male. Curiosity began to gnaw at his thoughts and he again swept his hand across Elrond’s form, desperately trying to decipher the feelings pouring from his mind.

Directly, he wasn’t repulsed by the male form he was spooned against, but at the same time he was unsure if his affections were merely a result of the accidental binding they had created. After several false starts, he lowered his hand to Elrond’s hip, hesitating to move beyond that. Curiosity reigned supreme and with bated breath, he shoved his hand lower, pausing when he found explicit evidence that his prior caresses hadn’t gone unnoticed. Not entirely sure what to do with another man’s erection, he swept his grip up and down a few times, relaxing when Elrond made a lurching movement of his hips, all he was capable of doing in his state. The futile thrust the elf lord attempted had planted his buttocks against Haldir’s pelvis, encouraging the silver elf into action. He dropped his fingers to the ties at his leggings and pulled the elf lord naked from the waist down, leaving his tunic so that the sable elf wouldn’t be chilled too badly. He removed his own pants quickly, smirking when the waiting elf lord flopped one arm to the side in search of his missing bedmate.

Grinning a bit, Haldir stilled Elrond by spooning against him again, a simple task since the elf lord was duly poisoned, and prodded the tip of his erection at the opening vulnerable to his taking. He hesitated again, wondering if he wasn’t taking advantage of the downed elf. Elrond, barely coherent, shoved back against him weakly to communicate his willingness. Still unsure, Haldir pressed forward to spear the elf lord with delicate slowness. The raven elf made no gesture to indicate he was anything less than thrilled with the situation, trying to angle his hips back despite his lack of muscle control. He only managed to writhe aimlessly.

Despite the seemingly broad acceptance he’d been granted, Haldir stilled, awaiting Elrond’s signal to further his actions. Still only half awake, Elrond managed to squirm a little, annoyed at the lack of movement. Deciding that his half coherent lover was ready, Haldir began a lazy rocking pattern, idly curling his arm around to pump Elrond’s length. Weak from the beginning, Elrond didn’t last more than a few minutes, shuddering as he came into the fingers working his length. A virgin until this unlikely encounter, Haldir was shocked into coming when Elrond’s passage tightened convulsively around him.

Looking around, the March Warden located a small piece of cloth to wipe off his hand and gingerly cleaned Elrond’s nether regions as well. He dressed the elf lord before worrying about himself, knowing that the ill elf was already chilled. Pulling his garments into place, Haldir slipped behind the once again unconscious elf lord, piling blankets on their spooned forms and adding their cloaks to the linens for added warmth.

Smiling slightly, he drifted to sleep.

To Be Continued…
Elrond and Haldir. I foresee a huge battle of wills here. And I warned you, I’m messing around with the realm of Middle Earth. Bonding can and will be spontaneous for the sake of driving people insane. I have more of this in a notebook (somewhere), review and I may become inspired to transfer it onto my computer (when I find it). R&R!