Beautiful Dreamer

Part Six: Resolution

"Manacles?"

"Attached. The felt lining is a nice touch."

"Did you test the lock?"

"Of course and it operates as smoothly as every other well-oiled piece of equipment in here."

Erestor sent his cousin a smugly appreciative leer over the risqué remark. "Shackles?"

"Ready, but they were not in the vision. He was compliant and submissive."

"This is not a dream and they will definitely be needed," Erestor intoned, losing his wolfish grin instantly. He tested the strength of the chains at the end of the little mithril cock ring by gripping it with both hands, bracing his feet against the platform, and tugging with all his might. They held. "Hand me the nipple clamps now."

"These?" Elrond raised a wickedly lovely set of pincers, the serrated ends decorated with tiny rubies. He liked the sparkling quality of the clinking jangle as the links struck one another.

"No, no, those are useless. He's going to struggle, Elrond; give me the other set."

"Struggle? Erestor, we cannot do this without his consent." Elrond was not pleased with Erestor's notion of how things were going to be once the trance took effect.

"I never said anything else, but if this isn't Legolas of Gondolin, it is going to be a frightening experience, no matter how exciting his dreams have been. We must be prepared for that and be ready to help him master that fear."

"Then, let us use the decorative ones instead and let them come free if he struggles," insisted Elrond and the mental image of Legolas' nipples popping out of the clamps, red and raw, made his pulse gallop.

"Nay, that is not the point. In the dream he thrashes wildly and cannot get loose. So it must be in reality." Erestor came and took up the ones he wanted. "They are not as pretty but neither will they break away. See? The ends pierce right through and hold fast." The seneschal proudly demonstrated how the small barb would be applied, smiling at his kinsman's mildly concerned but nonetheless intrigued expression. "He will not bleed much," Erestor answered the unspoken question.

"I know that," snapped Elrond, frowning.

It had been a while since he'd visited this part of Erestor's domain, but surely it had not been that long ago. Well, perhaps it had, at that. Right after Celebrian's departure, he'd become a regular visitor, but as the centuries passed his interests had turned elsewhere, or his duties had increased, or his desires had dulled. All three, more likely, he thought. His cousin was watching him, sympathetically, a light in his eyes that illuminated similar misgivings over the procedure they were preparing to undertake. Elrond attempted a bolstering smile and turned to survey the place.



The room was decadently luxurious and beguilingly threatening, for how often does one find a torture chamber appointed in butter-soft leather, plush velvets, glowing gems, and dauntingly sharp and glinting steel? The platform was newly made but as elegant of design as any other furnishing found in Erestor's abode, with squat, turned legs and rich, cushy upholstery. Who he had commissioned to build it, and who had so swiftly complied, was one of the many secrets the cagey seneschal would never reveal. If rumours got abroad that a particular craftsman was favoured by Erestor, then the rest of the valley's carpenters would suffer from loss of business.

Elrond was more impressed by the fact that it was there, ready and waiting. Obviously, his cousin's insight had not failed him and the lore-master guessed he'd ordered its construction soon after learning about Glorfindel's ill-chosen excursion to Rhovanian. His seneschal almost always had the answers floating around in that eclectic mixture of seemingly random observations he documented continuously and sooner or later his mental environment would mature and suddenly the solution would gel. It had never failed to do so and thus Elrond relied on Erestor's judgement in this case, too.

The platform was new, but other features of the room were not and Elrond passed inspection over the place to see what else had changed since his last visit here.

The bench was in its accustomed place, a huge phallus of gleaming mithril attached, the stirrups and their ankle cuffs properly positioned to ensure its correct insertion, the leather straps shining with that soft sheen derived from good care and cleaning, the padded surface indented by the pressure of unknown numbers of bodies confined upon it. The impaling rack was there, too, but had been discreetly moved to the far corner where the shadows made its menacing shape and size less threatening. Mayhap it was just for coats or something, but its iron rings, the set of leather whips displayed upon it, and the hinged middle belied any neutral interpretation of its purpose.

There was a lovely cabinet of mahogany painted with invitingly exotic scenes upon its doors, an innocuous article in which scrolls might be stored, save for the fact that it was designed to imprison a person in such a way that once shut in he could not move or shift position. And there was a series of narrow, open slots across the top through which one might poor hot wax or insert knives, all while standing at the end wherein was drilled out a nicely sized hole through which to fuck the captive crammed inside it, whose writhing agony was sure to enhance the experience. Alternately, the prisoner could be made to face this hole and be forced to suck whatever came through the opening, but it was rarely used without a mouth restraint due to the inevitable and painful application of incisors that occurred otherwise.

Beneath a thick wool rug was a pit, narrow, nasty, and dark. A flick of a switch, located just where the victim's foot must touch as soon as he was lowered in, released an evenly spaced array of blades from top to bottom, all of such precise length that just breathing wounded the unfortunate soul. Should the victim venture to lift his foot off that lever, the blades did not retract but instead grew longer as new ones emerged from the floor.

That was a place purely of punishment and Elrond had never asked how Erestor used it. Perhaps the captive was so glad to be released he would do anything asked to prevent being put back in. The Lord of Imladris really did not want to know, finding this level of bondage exceeded his tolerance for agony and terror. There were other things, more standard methods of restraint and discipline: a fur-lined stock that held its victim bent over at a particularly vulnerable angle, various paddles, canes, and scourges, lots of iron rings and chains were secured to the walls and floor so to make using them easy on the punisher and brutal for the punished, and a veritable pharmacy of cures and salves as well as aphrodisiacs and mind altering concoctions lined the narrow shelves on the far end of the room.

A small shudder passed through Elrond, not entirely spawned by aversion to these various means and methods of rapturous excruciation.

The examination halted as his vision came to rest on the bed. This was also a new addition, for Erestor's tastes did not in general include catering to the softer side of intercourse in this place. He had a softer side, this Elrond knew for a fact, and was far less likely to actually use this torture room without also planning to treat his captive to the exact opposite in the sumptuous guest apartment located nearby in the subterranean suite. That set of elegantly appointed rooms did not include Erestor's personal sleeping chamber; a realm few indeed were permitted to enter. Erestor came to stand beside him.

"Is it as you saw it?" he asked.

"Very much so, save the bed is nicer and the place is clean and well-lighted. If Legolas of Gondolin is here in Imladris, re-born or otherwise, he must recognise this place, or at least what it represents," answered Elrond. He sighed heavily. "I wish there was some other means available."

"Aye."

There was enough doubt in the single syllable to make Elrond pause. Erestor stood in abstracted uneasiness, a distant look in his eyes as though he could see on the other side of time, not clearly and not completely, but as if he glimpsed the consequences of a given decision or act, the events attributed to it expanding out from it as ripples in a pond. Truly, circumstances that appeared as fate or chance to others were to him like rings in a rain puddle, overlapping one another, cancelling or enhancing each other as the storm spent itself. While many of the changes were impossible to follow, Erestor perceived more than others. Knowing this, Elrond watched him warily, waiting for more.

"I don't know," ventured his cousin carefully, "if it is such a good idea after all."

"Erestor, this test of Legolas' spirit is necessary, though the method is unpalatable. You said so yourself. Is there another way you have not mentioned?"

"Nay, unfortunately, I see no other option. I am talking about the decision to just throw Glorfindel at Legolas. The Wood Elf has no idea what is going on and may not be pleased in the least. Additionally, Glorfindel has issues and may not be able to contain them. Is it fair for Legolas' first experience to be so fraught with expectations he cannot even imagine much less meet?"

"Aye, but we cannot permit this to be his introduction to sex," Elrond motioned to the platform in supreme distaste. "What if he is reborn? Legolas of the Tree loves Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. Is it not best for him to lose his virginity to the one he loves? Surely, they both imagined that in all those long years in Gondolin; how different everything might have been had the two of them become mates."

"True, but if he isn't reborn, then Legolas of Greenwood must yield to someone he doesn't even know."

"He does not know him but he is definitely attracted to him."

"He was attracted to me, too."

"Was he or was that Legolas Duilinion?"

"Nae! Who can know? That is what we hope to learn," Erestor threw up his hands and stalked to the bed, adjusting the pillows and the simple cotton coverlet he'd provided.

"I garnered his notice also," confided Elrond and boldly met his kinsman's challenging eye. "I thought at the time it was me he wanted, but now I believe it was just the residual lust from the nightmare."

"You turned him down, too," smiled Erestor, returning to clasp Elrond's arm in warm camaraderie.

"I did."

"What gallant ellyn we are, cousin, yet again I worry if our noble attitudes have been in error. Legolas needs a compassionate and skillful lover for his first time, someone who will teach him what he needs to know without demanding he give over his heart in exchange. The job requires a strong lover who will shore up his confidence and show him that pleasure need not be the catalyst for a life-time of sorrow. It is just sex, after all."

"You don't believe that," scoffed Elrond. "You know the importance of this initial coupling better than most, muindoren. The first and the last, these are the loves that remain in the heart for eternity. All in between are just sex, perhaps."

"Neither do you believe that," countered Erestor. "I know you remain close to anyone who has been your partner and those friendships are important to you. Is that not love also?"

They did not speak for there was no need, each being in agreement on the subject after all, and again a period of quiet introspection spread between the molecules and the motes. Each one's mind journeyed inexorably to the maze and the activity taking place there, for neither doubted the Balrog-slayer would do his duty.

It was too late now to worry about the consequences but they rose up to taunt them nonetheless. What if Glorfindel fell into old habits and treated Thranduilion like the morally corrupt Duilinion? Irrevocable harm might result and the King of Greenwood would certainly not be lenient and forgiving of any of them, especially having rousted Glorfindel from his woods not two months ago. Even if the re-born warrior was the soul of patience and tenderness, his expectations might intrude and demand more from Legolas than he could give. Rejection, sorrow, and grieving sickness could send their friend back to Mandos. Then again, if Duilinion's un-housed spirit was wandering free, what greater temptation could there be to try and steal Thranduilion's body? Elrond believed Celebrian's magic would prevent successful possession, but there was no way to know.

Erestor stirred, sighing, and set his hands on his hips in discontented agitation. "We should decide now who is to play what role," he said. "Once Legolas is in the trance events may happen rather precipitously."

"What is there to decide?" shrugged Elrond. "Glorfindel is Glorfindel; I shall be Egalmoth, and you shall play Malantur's part."

"Oh, it's decided, is it?" demanded Erestor, insulted. "Is this your decree as Lord of the Land?"

"What? No, it is just what makes the most sense."

"Makes sense? How did you derive that conclusion? I am the noble scion of one of the oldest and most powerful Houses of the Noldor," he huffed, arms crossing over his chest as he drew himself up tall in rigid affront. "Celebrimbror is my great-grandfather, as well you know."

"Which fact makes you the great-great-grandson of one of the worst of the Feänorian Princes," Elrond reminded him. "Curufin was party to Celegorm's abduction of Luthien and tried to kill her when their plots were foiled."

"Be that as it may, Elrond," Erestor's cheeks flamed dark carmine for a few seconds, for the brothers' intentions for Luthien were far from honourable, "while I am used to inspiring a sense of dread and awe, I am not pleased to be cast as a vile rapist." Then he gave a sudden start, surprise plain in his arched brows and wide eyes. "They are coming."

"Erestor! Using far-sight to spy on such a moment is completely unethical!" fumed Elrond, unable to squelch a spike of jealousy over his cousin's gift of clairvoyance.

"No!" the seneschal tried to glare, but could not suppress a snicker. "Not in that manner. I mean they are approaching the Lair together on foot. Let us go out to meet them."

They scarcely had time to shut the door on the intimidating room before the couple rushed in from the hallway, Legolas unable to hide his amaze at the incongruity of the sinister approach and the plush destination. His eyes swept the place and alighted on the seneschal; the appraising stare he met made him blush, recalling the rash manner in which he'd propositioned the mysterious Lord. At once his confidence deserted him and all the assertive phrases he'd conjured vanished from his brain, leaving him once more the very young son of Thranduil in the presence of three very ancient and legendary people.

Glorfindel was not so hampered. "Before anything unpleasantly embarrassing is asked, I did not complete the errand upon which you sent me. Truthfully, such a thing is unconscionable and almost as bad as what you propose for Legolas' relief from the phantasms," he announced gruffly, shooting Legolas a sidelong look as he spoke. As expected, the prince's eyes popped wide.

"You know about that?" he demanded, face verily the colour of the setting sun. Then he turned in accusing fury upon Elrond. "How could you tell him those things? I revealed that in confidence!"

"Now, Legolas, in the first place I did not share any of the details with Glorfindel, only explained that his interference in your life produced the nightmares troubling you. Secondly, you only insisted I not tell you Adar," Elrond justified his actions, for of course he had given Erestor a full account, a fact which had not as yet dawned on the young prince of Greenwood.

"I see," Legolas scowled, unable to refute this, and wondered why he had not insisted on complete privacy. He had trusted Elrond and while this unexpected disclosure was upsetting, he still did. He breathed out a short snort through his nose, glancing once more at Erestor who was studiously not watching him. Realisation dawned and his heart sank, all his secrets were laid bare. "Aira Aldaron (Holy Oromë)," he muttered, "I need to sit down."

He did so and thus failed to notice the violent start his mild expletive gave Glorfindel, for of course he could not guess this was a phrase his namesake was wont to use. "It would be best, I think, if you explained things to me, Lord Elrond. Lord Glorfindel is under the impression that I am his long-lost love re-born and I may as well admit that Legolas of the Tree was a hero for me when I was a child. Alatamillë (Great-mother) was ever pleased to tell me of him and he became in essence my alter-ego."

"So? Some secrets you did keep from your healer, Thranduilion, and that is never wise," scolded Elrond gently, but he smiled as he sat beside the confused warrior.

"Duilinion's naneth lives in Greenwood," Glorfindel blurted out.

"Really? That explains much," murmured Erestor.

He, too, came and sat close on the archer's other side so that his thigh was flush against the prince's. He smiled and passed his gaze brazenly over Legolas, stripping him bare with his gleaming eyes. Carefully and stealthily his hand found its way to rest atop the well-muscled leg and he squeezed just a minute amount. Legolas shot to his feet and was across the room in seconds while the space in front of the sofa was suddenly filled with the infuriated presence of one intensely jealous Balrog-slayer.

"What in bloody Mordor do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Testing a theory," replied Erestor calmly.

"You will not put your hands on him unasked," threatened Glorfindel, looming low and thrusting his fore-finger in Erestor's face.

"I would call this conclusive evidence," the seneschal remarked to Elrond, un-phased by the menacing bulk of the mighty Vanyarin Lord. "As far as he's concerned, this is his Legolas, be he Duilinion or Thranduilion."

Before anyone could answer, Thranduilion spoke. "I am not anybody's," he hissed. "I am my own, a free person without bonds or strictures of any kind save fealty to my Lord and Sire, Aran Thranduil, loyalty to my homeland, and the natural love one bears for one's Naneth."

"Well said and I concur," stated Elrond, rising and joining Legolas where he remained poised near the exit. "That is why we have called you here and why you yourself came to Imladris. Legolas, we are concerned that your namesake may be here, too, attempting to usurp that natural freedom that is your right."

A few seconds of silence passed by and then Legolas stumbled back to the seats and slumped into a waiting armchair. "Tawar nin Beria," he gasped and looked up as Glorfindel hurried over. "You believe this?"

"I do not know," admitted the worried suitor, wanting so much to kneel there beside him on the floor and clasp him at the shoulder. He remained standing, hands clenching awkwardly as they tried to carry out at least part of this desire and were reined back.

"It is best to learn the truth," Elrond joined them. "That is but one of the possibilities."

"The other being that you are truly Duilinion re-born," stated Erestor from his place across from Legolas. Their eyes met and he smiled kindly. "It is possible, if Námo released you at the same time he set Glorfindel loose. One born in Aman, the other here in Middle-earth, and now the two meet again. I think we will discover that you share the same begetting day, or very nearly the same."

"What can it matter?" asked Legolas. "Lord Glorfindel was born in the First Age; I am a product of the Third."

"Actually," offered Glorfindel hesitantly, "that is both true and false. I was only re-born a short number of years ago. My time in Mandos was long for I…for many reasons. I will be 130 years of age on the first full moon of Súlimë (March)."

"Oh," Legolas stared at him; he and Glorfindel were contemporaries? He had lumped the Vanyarin Lord in with the other legendary figures peopling the historical accounts, ascribing to him all the awe and respect and deferential distance such reverent generalisations imposed. Yet they were equals in experience in this Age and that made the Balrog-slayer suddenly much more accessible and approachable. "I am exactly five years younger."

"Fascinating," Erestor whispered, his eyes sparkling with intrigued interest.

"Is it? I fail to understand the significance," said Glorfindel, thoroughly confused. Duilinion's naneth lived in Greenwood, he and Thranduilion were nearly the same age, but it clarified nothing.

"The Valar have a reputation for generating synchronisity as a means to mark events in which they've had a hand. The Rising of Ithil at the return of my ancestors to Middle-earth, for example," Erestor offered. "I find the similitude in age indicative of Vairë's hand, that's all."

"That may be, but I have parents," insisted Legolas, "and they were never in Gondolin. Curoniel abides in Greenwood but she is my namesake's mother, not mine. Ithiloth is my naneth."

"You are certain of this?" asked Erestor gently. "Thranduil and Ithiloth have been mates for the entirety of this Age and for just as many centuries have prayed for children. Yet, they were never so blessed until your arrival."

"What are you saying?" Legolas was on his feet again, white and trembling in outrage. He pointed down at the seneschal. "You defame me and my parents baldly and expect it to go unchallenged? Take back that slur or meet me in the arena at tomorrow's dawn!"

"Aye, and you'll have me to face when that test is done," snarled Glorfindel. "Your mind is a midden of rotting refuse, Erestor. Beg mercy or be damned!"

"Enough!" Elrond placed himself between his cousin and his master-at-arms. "All of you, enough," he repeated, sending Erestor a reproving glare over his shoulder. "No one is defaming your parents, Legolas. Erestor is perhaps too blunt but he means no disrespect."

"Indeed, pen neth, Ithiloth and Thranduil have been among my dearest friends for much longer than you have been alive," affirmed Erestor. He stood and bowed low. "Yet I do beg mercy for any implied insult, to you or to them or to Curoniel or to Duilinion. Even to you, Glorfindel," and he bowed a second time. "Yet these are the possible answers to this puzzle and if we would learn the truth then we must be honest and open-eyed. Denial cannot aid you, Legolas, in resolving this problem." His hand indicated Glorfindel and again he offered a benevolent smile.

"I accept your apology," answered Legolas, shaken more by the seneschal's forthright manner than he had been by the oblique slight. He breathed a calming breath in and out and looked from Glorfindel to Elrond. "So be it; I am no child. Whatever is in my making I will face it. My parents love me no matter what that truth may be. What is this cure you would have me attempt?"

"You had best sit down again," counselled Elrond and pressed his patient into compliance. Then he told him what they would do. The silence that followed went on so long the great healer began to fear Legolas was lost in some kind of stuporous fit, the shock to his psyche too great to confront. Anxiously the three Lords looked from one to another, unsure of how to proceed, but then Legolas stood abruptly.

"Are you well?" asked Glorfindel, thinking it the most ridiculous question possible for how could he be, learning three virtual strangers proposed to chain him up and have joint intercourse with him. The prince's incredulous stare made him blush and look away.

Thranduilion focused on Elrond. "So the crux of the idea," said Legolas hoarsely, "is that if Duilinion un-housed is present he will attempt to possess my body while the three of you fuck me senseless."

"Aye, that's it," admitted Erestor, nodding sagely.

"Nay!" Elrond swatted him hard on the arm. "Legolas, we are not going to do anything you do not want us to do. There will be no drugs this time. We will all be in the trance together but I will not initiate any spell without your permission and I will not remove your ability to express your will."

"No drugs?" asked Legolas, horrified. "How am I to endure the realisation of that dream without some means to allay my natural dread of such a course?"

"You want to be drugged?" demanded Glorfindel, aghast.

"Of course I want to be drugged," announced Legolas, equally exasperated. "How else shall I go about letting three males subdue and master me in that manner?"

"You could refuse," pleaded Glorfindel, heart turning to lead for he knew already that Legolas would not. He had often asked this very thing of Duilinion, to be answered with a query as to when he would publicly announce their eternal union.

"You started this," accused Legolas, "and now you want me to live with this nightmare? If experiencing the dream will release me from bondage to that past, then I am prepared to do so." He took a step back from the legendary hero. "I felt this in the garden as I slept, this disfavour you harboured in your heart for the one you professed to love. You were there, were you not? I am pure as he was pure; how can you hold this against me?"

"I am also pure," admitted Glorfindel quietly, unable to meet the fiery eyes of the young prince. "I hoped to share that innocence only with you, for us to give one another that gift. I do not want to watch you writhing and begging as my friends spend their passions in you. Valar, Legolas, we fucked you so many times you bled."

"That was not me," said Legolas as all colour drained away from his countenance. He dropped heavily into the chair and his face fell into his hands. "Was it?"

Now Erestor came and knelt beside the chair. "Be at peace, Legolas," he said softly, his hand settling in gentle benediction on the bowed head. "We do not yet know, but whether or not it is true you have my solemn oath not to do you any harm in any way. I do not want to master you unless such would give you pleasure. Do you not think, given your current state of excitement, that it would? There is nothing wrong in accepting, nay, in celebrating this craving.

"These are joys laced with the thrill of fear and danger, safe in the knowledge that those here with you will see to your every need and desire while protecting your dignity. Such delights are my predilection; many have been initiated into erotic bondage through my tutelage. None have regretted it, learning that their hungers need not bring shame or disgrace afterwards. There is much enjoyment and fulfilment to be had if the bounds of trust are not abridged. Though you will be subdued and mastered, yet you will control everything that happens."

Hearing this, Glorfindel went and slumped atop the sofa, a quiet groan escaping his bereft heart. He would not look at the two of them together, so like in form to Duilinion and Malantur it turned his stomach. "You will have to drug me also," he said to Elrond, "else I can not do this thing."

"You need not stay," snapped Legolas, rising again, chest heaving and eyes smarting with tears. "Go, if this offends your lofty morals so!" he yelled. "No wonder he is still in Mandos. How broken his spirit must be to realise your disgust for something he could not control."

"Nay, it is not disgust," cried Glorfindel, standing to meet his would-be mate, contrite but adamant. "It is shame. Shame to have participated in making you that way when you were pure and untouched. I played a part in dishonouring you and have no wish do do the same again."

"How is it dishonourable if it is what I need and want?" asked Legolas, deeply confused for he was not sure those were his own desires. He did not know where the insight for his next words arose, but spoke them all the same. "The shame you feel is for the censure your love bought you, censure by those who called your feelings decadent lust. Is the heart so easily impeded by the opinion of others not involved in the matter?"

"My heart is not impeded, Legolas, but it bleeds for what was done that night and the repercussions that ensued at dawn," he explained earnestly. "Forgive me if I seem repulsed. I…I do not want to have to share you again and that is for love of you not revulsion."

"It is not me that you love," reminded Legolas, "but I am the one here enduring the burden of your love. Yet will you walk away and leave me to face this alone?" He stepped closer and reached out, taking Glorfindel's hand as he searched the downcast eyes. What he hoped to hear he could not really define but his heart was thudding with anxious anticipation.

It was some little time before Glorfindel could look into those pleading eyes but when he did a great sigh left his lungs and his free hand lifted to cup the cheek so fair and pallid. Somehow they were connected, Thranduilion and Legolas of the Tree, and he could not turn away. He smiled bravely. "I will not leave. If this is what you need then I will see it through with you." Then he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the full lips, fingers dipping into the golden mane as he did. He stepped closer into the warmth of Legolas' aura and bowed his forehead against the prince's temple, shivering under the weight of the hand that settled over his pounding heart.

"The dawn need not bring either censure or degradation," announced Erestor, unimpressed by Glorfindel's magnanimous condescension in choosing to remain. It seemed to him the Lord of the Golden Flower had participated in Malantur's games much too willingly to be so appalled now.

"Certainly not. Whatever the mores of those ancient days, we do not hold such negative and judgemental views here," added Elrond. "Legolas of Gondolin was neither dishonourable nor unworthy of love. He deserved to relish the delights of the body and indulge the passions of his secret heart with anyone he might choose. Just the same rights do Legolas of Greenwood and Glorfindel of Imladris own."

Legolas was encouraged by these statements, though his real concern was to learn the origin of the urges assailing him even now. The visions were so vivid and the sensations so electrifying, he was not sure he had the power to resist them if given the chance to act them out. Glorfindel's presence beside him was rapidly usurping his ability to think rationally. He could hear his heart hammering and feel his breath. The scent of his arousal was becoming stronger with every second and Legolas was aware of that gnawing ache clawing at his belly again. He had but to turn his head a smidgen and he could press his mouth against the Balrog-slayer's lips. His thoughts were called back to the larger issue at hand before he made up his mind whether or not to dare it.

"Is it your desire to engage in this fantasy with us, Legolas?" asked Erestor seriously, rising and standing before him well aware of the unmistakable scent of the Wood Elf's arousal. He let his body respond in kind, welcoming the tightening in his groin which he caressed without compunction. Glorfindel's eye was on him but he ignored the baleful glare, concentrating solely on the young prince's reaction.

Legolas met his gaze and then let his sight drop to the long hand and its decadent offering. If he said yes, the organ growing rigid there would soon pierce him, the thick length of hot flesh burning as it thrust against his core. Its flavour would be known to him forever more and the bitter juices it expelled would coat his throat. Instantly the dream filled his mind and he knew Erestor's cock was the first he would suck. His heart stumbled and he swallowed down a sudden increase in salivation. He moaned, unaware of it, thoughts dominated by how painful his erection was, retained beneath his clothing, how thrilling it would be to expose it, wondering what Erestor would think of him. He felt an urgent need to strip and licked his lips.

"I think that is a firm yes," smiled Elrond. His cock was fire-hardened steel beneath his clothes and like Erestor he stroked himself, putting his hands beneath the waist to do so, advertising his length blatantly by easing the pants down so the ruddy tip was just visible. Legolas' eyes were glued to it so he pinched himself, squeezing out a drop of clear essence and then casually licking his fingers.

The prince's mouth fell ajar and stayed open until Glorfindel carefully closed it, guiding the hand gripping his so tightly down to his erection. He rubbed against it in decadent desire and then let go, smiling as Legolas groped him freely, eyes glazed with salacious hunger, lips parted as his breath became rough and ragged. Glorfindel kissed them, dipping his tongue inside and thrilling when it was greedily sucked. Simultaneously, fingers trailed over the Wood Elf's hidden cock, already leaking so that there was a wet stain on his thigh. He pressed and pinched the covered glans hard enough to hurt.

Legolas bleated in surprise but his legs shifted apart to enhance the contact. He could not think of anything beyond the burning desire to have Glorfindel open the leggings and take him in hand. He was disappointed when the kiss ended and the hand retreated. He found himself blinking at Glorfindel in both wonder and fear.

"Erestor, stop inciting him and turn off the pheromones or I won't have time to invoke the spell before we start," complained Elrond.

"It is not me," whispered Erestor. "It's him." He could not stay away and moved behind Legolas, taking hold of his narrow hips and pressing close against the firm, round rear. He rocked, groaning in delight, and was not pleased when Glorfindel shoved him hard in the chest and sent him staggering backward.

"Elrond, now would be a good time to get the crystals in place," rasped the Balrog-slayer, not certain he could wait after all. He would have him and have him first this time. Then if Legolas wanted the others, he would abide it, but rather thought Legolas would not. In his mind flashed the notion that within there were numerous ways and means to punish him for such base cravings should he choose to indulge them. He took hold of Legolas' hand again and pulled him toward the inner door behind which lay Erestor's emporium of pain and delight.

Legolas' eyes bulged as he realised what the room contained and he balked, refusing to take another step though Glorfindel was attempting to shove him through. The dream, which had overwhelmed him so quickly, just as suddenly collapsed and dissolved, his desire died, and he turned to flee; this was not what he wanted. The room terrified him and he did not want to be naked and bound to that plush platform by the mithril chains pooled upon the leather.

"Nay!" he cried and shoved Glorfindel out of the way only to run into Erestor, who held him tight and refused to let go no matter that he struggled. "Nay!" he cried again and could not hide the terror in his voice. Immediately the presence of Glorfindel touched his aura as a huge fist sailed through his peripheral vision and crashed into the Noldorin Lord's cheek with a loud and painful crack.

"Unhand him at once!" bellowed the Balrog-slayer but the words were not necessary for Erestor was seated on the floor at their feet having landed hard on his rear from the impact of the blow.

"You dare strike me down?" threatened Erestor, scrambling upright and eager to repay the favour, but he could not do so without rudely pushing Legolas aside. He pointed past him at the Vanyarin Lord's furious countenance. "For that you will answer, Glorfindel. I am part of this because it is necessary; someone experienced in such matters is required to ensure all goes well. Besides, Legolas wants it this way. If you cannot deal with it then you should go."

"I will go and Legolas will go with me!" thundered Glorfindel. "This is not going to happen; I refuse to allow it." He took hold of Legolas at the elbow and attempted to steer him through the blocked portal.

"Tawar nin Beria!" breathed Legolas, gaping at the seneschal and then at Glorfindel. He set a restraining palm upon the broad chest and pushed back, re-entering the room of torment. "Nay, enough, he responds to my body's signals. Do not blame him for you cannot control your reaction either," he added quietly. Now that he was fully inside the room, he gave it a slow and thorough inspection, shuddering as he documented each and every devise of erotic pain and bondage, many for which he could not comprehend the correct application.

"Tawar Nín Beria," he said again. "Lord Elrond, now is the time for the drugs, if you please."

"That cannot be, pen neth," explained Elrond, coming into the room with his little wooden box of crystals. He motioned for the prince to follow, knowing Glorfindel would be right beside him to prevent Erestor's wandering hands from taking any further liberties. He went right to the platform, deciding there was no need to pretend that was not their ultimate goal, and sat down upon it, patting the leather next to him in a beckoning manner as he smiled at the wary prince. He waited until Legolas joined him and then continued.

"What just happened informs me that we must not remove whatever limited control you still have," he said gravely. "Whether or not you are Legolas Duilinion is no longer a question unanswered, at least for me. I am certain now you are being manipulated by the unseen, but vividly felt, spirit of your namesake. Your kinsman wants to re-enact the scene of his debasement with you under his control as it happens."

"Why?" demanded Legolas, voice pleading and filled with frustration. "He already went through it and truly I am not sure I want to do things this way." Even so, his erection had not abated and with Elrond so near he could not help thinking of that ruby pinnacle poking above his waist. It was all he could do to keep his fingers to himself, his eyes he could not control, nor the involuntary way his tongue darted out and swiped across his lower lip. "Ai Valar, what is wrong with me?".

"Nothing," Erestor spoke up firmly. In a flash he was on his knees beside the dais, hands on the prince's knees, body pressed between his legs. "It is what you want and need and I for one am pleased to give it to you." He planned to steal a kiss but his hair was snatched and yanked so hard he feared it would tear free.

"He said he does not want to do it," shrieked Glorfindel. "Leave him be!" He cast Erestor aside but found himself in the exact same spot seconds later, only his hands were not on Legolas' knees. Blatantly he groped the engorged cock and the archer groaned, spreading his legs. "You do want it, though, don't you?" he hissed and began untying the leggings. As he did, Legolas tore frantically at his tunic.

Elrond and Erestor stopped them, the former grabbing Legolas by the arm and dragging him out of Glorfindel's hands as Erestor enveloped the Balrog-slayer around the shoulders and hauled him backward. The two were soon involved in a violent scuffle as knees and fists and even teeth connected with clothing and skin and hair amid a jumbled cacophony of curses and growls.

"Enough!" It was not Elrond who shouted this time but Legolas, standing with heaving lungs and glittering eyes, his pants half-open and his tunic all askew. "Not like this. I do not want fighting. Whatever else I may have dreamed, this rivalry was not part of it. That is not what I want."

They heard him and the brawl ended as quickly as it began and for Elrond there was no doubt whatsoever as to who was controlling events. Shame-faced and out of breath, the two great Lords parted and set about straightening their garments and wiping at small bloody cuts. Glorfindel presented Erestor a handkerchief in silent apology, who used it while tendering over one of his own in kind.

The lore-master, still holding to Legolas' arm, pulled gently and guided him to sit again on the platform. Silently he held out his hand to Erestor, he being closest, and the small box of crystals was placed on his palm. Not a second too soon, he thought, and eyed Legolas warily, wondering what new trick might be attempted to prevent the spell being cast. With haste he set them up, murmuring the incantations quickly as Erestor again came near, this time to catch their patient as the prince slumped senseless into his arms.

"Ai! Is he all right?" demanded Glorfindel, hurrying over as Erestor laid him gently down.

"He is fine," said Elrond. "Now hurry; strip him down and chain him up before he comes around. The spell to include them all had not yet been spoken, for he had realised the need to incapacitate the restless spirit so gifted in inspiring their lust. Another surge of that incubus' erotic power and they would all succumb.

Indeed, the air was thick with the heady scent of him and it required heroic effort for Glorfindel to control the impulse to mount the senseless body and thus be the first to claim him. He refrained, sweat standing out on his brown, hands opening as though to get hold of his frustration, respiration laboured and loud. "Elbereth," he whispered, staring in awe at the sight of the naked, bound ellon curled on the padded surface. He raised eyes to both his friends in confused misery. "What are we doing?"

"We are going to try and convince Duilinion to leave young Thranduilion alone," stated Elrond, drawing a steadying breath and forcing his eyes away from the tantalising sight of the helpless captive.

"You are sure?" asked Glorfindel. "How can you be so certain?"

"Valar, Glorfindel, Legolas Thranduilion is an untouched innocent. Do you believe he would know how to raise that level of excitement in the three of us?" said Erestor testily. "He displays a highly refined and fully developed knowledge of pheromone generation and projection. Few are able to master the art, much less perfect it to this degree."

"Well, not being among that elite class of seducers, I would not have any means of knowing," barked Glorfindel, saddened and worried. He sat on the platform beside Legolas and cautiously laid a trembling palm on the bare hip. Unable to stop himself, he bent and kissed the warm skin.

"None of that, Glorfindel," admonished Elrond and stayed him. "Now we need to enter the dream world with him. When he wakens, whatever design he had we must confront and thwart. You must not let yourself be controlled. I know not why he is so insistent on recreating this traumatic event, but it is not healthy for Thranduilion."

"Nor for you," added Erestor softly, sending Glorfindel a rueful smile when the Balrog-slayer looked to him. "I know now that he is your soul-mate. Forgive this trespass, mellon," his fingers swept the air above the naked ellon. "It is for his good and yours."

"Aye," Glorfindel had never known the word to be so bitter on his tongue. "What of Thranduilion? Will he be able to act independently?"

"None can say," Elrond shrugged. "I know of such treatments through written accounts. I have never attempted anything like this. We need to begin." So saying he called the two to sit beside their unconscious patient and once more used the glass wand to weave a circle of music and light around them.

This time the central crystal rang forth with a deeper tone, sonorous and sepulchre, and the colours that arose from it made a woven pattern of violet and blue in which quick bursts of bright crimson flashed and winked like tongues of flame. When this luminous wheel uplifted and expanded, touching Legolas first, the hues undulated and grew soft, filled with a opalescent gleam that pulsed through the wheel in a rhythm that was somehow tragic to watch. The three elven Lords gathered near actually flinched when the fingers of light reached out and pierced straight to their very souls. The room itself quivered and everything shifted slightly, but then stabilised and all was as before, save that Legolas moaned and stirred in his chains.

"Tawar nín Beria," he croaked and let loose another groan as he shifted to try and sit. The nature of the chains was instantly apparent as his cock was severely jerked. With a yelp he came down hard on his hip and immediately the pierced nipples were yanked. He cried and twisted in shaking fear to his knees. There he was, poised on hands and knees, naked, bound, and exposed, and he stared about him in blinking wonder. "Is this the dream or is this real?"

Elrond's brows rose high. "Thranduilion?" he asked, truly surprised, having been certain he was dealing with a misguided and deeply troubled spirit. The wide blue eyes peered at him in mixed dread and excitement.

"Aye," answered Legolas, shivering as he became aware of the eyes devouring his submissive pose. "Ai, this is not how it is supposed to go." A flash of something different passed through his eyes and that sense of worldly desperation filled his aura. "What are you all waiting for?"

"Duilinion?" demanded Elrond, more confused than ever. The hardened glare which pinned him then made him catch his breath. "Valar, we are neither fully in the dream nor in reality."

"Botched it, didn't you, mighty healer," spat the bound elf. "This is how you repay me the debt of life? You would give my beloved to this woodland prince! What gives you the right to decide he should have him?"

"What?" Glorfindel at last found his voice. "No one is giving me the prince. Ai! Is it you, Legolas?"

"It is," mourned the warrior of Gondolin, "though why I followed I know not. Nienna warned me against it but I had to know. You abandoned me for this new young prince, this substitute Legolas."

"He is not a substitute; I thought he was you reborn," insisted Glorfindel.

"Duilinion, this is wrong, to use Thranduilion's body thus," said Elrond. "You must return to Mandos and await the time for your rebirth. This will not mend your heart and he has done no wrong to you."

"No wrong? He steals away my soul-mate and you name it nothing," hissed Legolas. "I hoped for your aid and you owe me. Fulfil that obligation now!"

Almost at once the level of erotic allure in the room increased tenfold and if it had been maddening to stand by and look upon him sleeping in his bonds, the sight of him moaning and thrashing against the chains was beyond bearing. Wantonly he rocked against the restraints, his cock pulled and his nipples stretching as he wailed and spread his legs.

"Please, my Lords," he cried in tremulous fervour. "I need to be fucked. I need to come. Give me a cock to succour me, Valar, make me burn! Come, Erestor, I would know the flavour of your essence. Let me suck you as Glorfindel drills me deep and spills inside me. Take me and break me and take me again!"

The three Elven Lords watched in prurient fascination and it was too much to withstand. Glorfindel was the first to give in, crying out in wretched and lascivious dismay to want to do this thing. He struggled out of his clothing, aware of Erestor and Elrond doing the same, and reached the exposed rear as the seneschal reached the parted lips. For a second they paused, catching a glimpse of what they were about to do, but being this near to the begging and pleading ellon was more than either could endure. Glorfindel's cock was poised for entry and Erestor's felt the exhaust of the captives lungs when a new and strange phenomenon occurred.

Again the room wavered and then a brilliant flash of white light exploded, dazzling as a star fallen to earth, and both Glorfindel and Erestor were repulsed by a force neither could name, for it was not something of pain but evoked a sense of remonstrance and disappointment within it. They found themselves sitting on their haunches gazing at the vision of two faint and shadowy forms sharing the platform, both naked and erect but neither bound any longer.

There was Legolas Thranduilion, innocent and untouched, seated beside his ruined cousin, who cast himself down upon the platform and wept in abject misery. To see them it was as though the two were mirror images of one another, like twins divided by Ages of time but brothers nonetheless, and so it was. Thranduilion was moved to pity, though he had been furious to be so used and that wrath had spawned this bizarre juxtaposition of past and present. He reached out and set a comforting hand upon the heaving shoulder.

"Why did you want to do this thing to me?" he asked, for he could not understand. He had not wished to take Glorfindel for his own and would not have imagined the idea had not the Balrog-slayer arrived in Greenwood. That thought opened his eyes. "Ah, I see," he soothed. "It does not have to be like this."

"It is like this," sobbed the broken warrior. "He wants you as he never wanted me."

"No, he wants me to become you," advised Legolas, nodding.

"It does not matter now," said Duilinion, coming to the end of his tears and propping himself on his elbow so he could look his rival in the face. "He would not wait for me. Again I am betrayed. Why does the heart love? Ai, it is a ruinous thing to feel such emotions and I do not want to feel them anymore." His gaze sought Elrond. "Master healer, can you amputate the organ from whence they arise?"

"Nay, Legolas," said Elrond, saddened beyond words for he knew not how to help this ellon. The wounds were so deep he could not see any healing possible, and indeed the injuries seemed to have worsened over time."

"Since he left me, they have done so," Duilinion answered his mental comment. Red rimmed eyes filled with fierce ire turned on Glorfindel. "You wretched betrayer!" he seethed. "Why could you not wait? I would have come to you in time."

"I was waiting, please believe me! I have not been with another and will not. Please, Legolas, I am content to wait. I believed this was you," Glorfindel wailed, waving vaguely at Thranduilion's shadowy form.

"Liar! I was in the maze and your thoughts are not hidden from me. You want this one; admit it! He is all I never was and you can feel easy in your oh so proper moral skin to want him. How eagerly you petitioned his father to have him! Did you think I would not know?" The bereft spirit shrieked, barely rational in the tempest of sorrow raging through his soul.

"You sought to bring Thranduilion low," said Erestor, insight bursting through his mind, "so that Glorfindel would reject a bond with him as he rejected you."

"True, Noldorin prince," snapped Legolas, "and my good healer intervened."

"He did not and you know it," spoke Legolas of Greenwood. "I stopped them. He was just as enthralled but content to watch and have me later. He wanted to be the one fucking me when I came."

At this announcement all eyes found Elrond and he turned crimson from his patrician brow to his naked balls. He made an ineffectual attempt to hide his blatant erection and Erestor laughed.

"No need to be ashamed, cousin," he enjoined. "We were all quite overwhelmed by the wily incubus."

"You would hurt another for that cause?" demanded Glorfindel, angry once more to be used to injure someone who was innocent of all that had gone before. "That is not like the ellon I loved. What has happened to you, Legolas?"

"You left me!" shouted the bereft faer. "You left me for this lovely little treat. So then, go ahead and have him; I do not care any longer. Fuck him hard and long; let him know what it is like to get that lovely cock thrust up his ass and nothing but that."

"Yes, you do care and you must stop this," admonished Legolas of Greenwood sternly. "Hear me, there is another way to resolve the quandary. We need not be in conflict. Can you not see how this jealousy is what brought your brother to execute such an evil act against you? Will you do the same now? He could not bear to see his father express love and pride for you, could not stand that his mother's place was usurped, her dignity tarnished. Instead of facing his father with these fears and accusations, he sought to sully you so that Duilin would turn away."

"He succeeded," wailed Legolas of Gondolin. "All who loved me turned away and left me: my Nana, Hîren Adar, and Glorfindel."

"Your mother did not know," said Elrond. "She trusted Duilin to keep his word. As for the Lord of the Swallow, he knew not how to protect the heart of one son without wounding the other. He chose to wound you, but that is not the fault of your namesake. Return to Mandos and confront these wrongs done unto you that you may be healed."

"No," said Thranduilion. "Not everyone left you. Your mother lives in Greenwood and loves you dearly but grieves for your return. Likewise, Aldarion is here in Middle-earth and resides in Lindon by the sea. He come to Greenwood every Yule to be with his sister and he has been good and kind to me."

"You think to comfort me," said Duilinion, "but the comparison you have drawn is more real than you comprehend. We have the same mother, Thranduilion. We are more than cousins, for she made you to replace me. What solace do you offer me now?"

"I know this," said Legolas, glancing to Erestor with a small nod of thanks. But for his suggestion this revelation might have unhinged him. "She did not want to replace you but to give you life anew. Do you blame her? She had no wish to harm you more and certainly none to do wrong to me, for she gave me up, too. My parents are Thranduil and Ithiloth and thus I love them, though Curoniel gave me life with her body."

The son of Curoniel and Duilin gaped at the son of Thranduil and Curoniel in confusion. "You are not bitter?" he asked but did not wait for an answer and went on, seeing suddenly a glimmer of what he was being offered. "It is much to ask."

"You have asked nothing of me," Legolas smiled and held out his hand.

There was no pause; Legolas of the Tree clutched at the hand as if the fingers were a lifeline and it was the truth. Again the scene shimmered and winked, everything simultaneously obscured and surreal, and then another blossom of blinding white filled the place so that all eyes must be shut or burnt. When the environment returned to the sumptuous confines of Erestor's decadent den of iniquitous pleasures, there chained to the platform lay Legolas, insensible and still. Suddenly the large obsidian crystal sang out of its own accord, the tone majestic and compelling, a mixture of youth and wisdom difficult to imagine but beautiful to hear, and a single beam of indigo light arose from its heart. The ray touched Legolas where he slept and then he stirred, moaning in discontent, but did not fully waken.

"Ai! Hurry!" shouted Erestor and abruptly set about removing the restraints. He gathered up the limp form in his arms and stood, striding toward a door at the back of the room. Suddenly noticing that Glorfindel was not beside him he paused and half-turned, shooting him an annoyed glare. "What are you waiting for? Get up and come here, pen alhand!" he ordered. "Before you were ready to throttle me for touching him and now you let me carry him off to my private chambers to bed him? Some soul-mate you are."

As expected, Glorfindel emitted an incoherent shout of rage and charged after him, only to be stopped as Erestor thrust the naked ellon against his chest. "Mind how you treat him," he said gently, grinning as he watched Glorfindel gather the awakening prince against his heart. "He's a bit fragile still. And when you are both ready for it, I'll be happy to confine him to that platform so we may resume our joint exploitation of his glorious allure."

"Not in this lifetime," glared Glorfindel, but then his expression softened a little. "At least, not for a while yet." He smiled as the seneschal held open the door for him.

"Third room on the left, everything is ready for you," beamed Erestor happily, feeling quite noble and good inside. He watched them walk down the hall, aware of Elrond joining him. The prince made another incoherent noise that sounded like a yawn and then his arm wrapped possessively around the Balrog-slayer's neck.

"Glorfindel?" his sleepy voice called in wonder.

"Aye, it is me," answered the gallant warrior of Gondolin. "Is it you, Legolas?"

"Of course it is me," sighed the archer. "I hope there is a good reason you are carrying me naked through some unknown place, a reason that has to do with alleviating this incredible erection rubbing into my side."

"It does," Glorfindel snickered, glancing over his shoulder with a last look of thankful joy before he kicked open the appropriate door and the pair disappeared inside.

Erestor sighed happily and turned his beaming smile upon Elrond. "That is simply the second-best outcome possible," he said.

"Best being that we all fucked him for hours until he passed out?" smirked Elrond. "Agreed."

They laughed a little and turned back to the room, but Erestor did not shut the door for just then the first exclamation of many to come arose from the sequestered couple. Naked and aroused, the two mighty Lords exchanged speculative glances.

"So," said Erestor and was at once interrupted by a long-drawn cry from which ever one of the two was suddenly and forcibly entered. The shout was overprinted by a deep, guttural groan and they felt fairly certain who was on top.

"So," said Elrond, eyeing the platform and then his kinsman. "Seems a shame to just leave all your preparations unused and unappreciated."

"It does indeed," affirmed Erestor, smiling at the long red column of rigid flesh sprouting between the legs of the Lord of Imladris. "I think we're going to have to find a larger restraint for that," he pointed at the crimson organ.

"Nay," Elrond shook his head, as he adjusted his balls and loosed a whispery groan. "Should fit you well enough, Erestor."

"Me?" said the seneschal, eyes wide in feigned shock. "You propose to confine me to that platform?"

"Yes, I think so," Elrond grinned wickedly and let his eye rove over the comely form, hand moving to massage his penis.

"Do you really believe you can subdue me and force me into those chains?" challenged Erestor, hands on hips, rigid shaft pointing at his cousin, and an equally lurid leer transforming his features.

"I certainly intend to try," warned Elrond and pounced.

TBC

Thank you Tourette :D