Hîr o Meril Thaifn [Lord of Rose Pillars]

Hîr o Meril Thaifn

"The Lord of Rose
Pillars"

by erobey

Italics=thoughts

Disclaimer: see initial chapter. No infringement intended and no monies earned!


Part Seven: Erestor Embarks on a New Career


Wishing to know what happened in
Legolas' room while Erestor and
Elladan argued? Scroll down at the end!

Mithrandir strolled into Legolas' suite and through the small, cosy
sitting room, stopping long enough to heft up the breakfast tray
abandoned on the nondescript occasional table near the open doors by
the porch. Without bothering to knock he flung open the bedroom door
and paced over to the bed, smiling as his eyes took in the broad
feather mattress and its conspicuous mass of sheet-obscured elf. The
disturbance of his arrival prompted a cautious hand to snake out and
pull the covers down enough to reveal the top of a golden head and two
enormous indigo eyes. Gandalf laughed and shook his head.

"Come out of there, elfling, and take some nourishment now," he
commanded and was gratified to see Legolas sit up, a wan smile on his
face.

"I am not an elfling, Mithrandir," he said, but knew it was pointless,
considering the wizard's longevity, especially since he had just been
caught hiding under the blankets. "I thought you were Erestor."

"Nay, not this time. Will you humour your old friend and at least
pretend to eat?"

"Aye, in fact I am famished and will devour the pillows unless
something better presents itself. What have you brought?" Legolas
shifted into a more comfortable cross-legged position, careful to keep
his lap fully draped, and examined the tray with interest.

"Well, the tea is probably cold but the rest of it looks as though it
might still be tasty." Mithrandir set the tray on the bed, his features
puckering up slightly upon noting some small areas of dampness
lingering on the sheets. It had been many hours since the elf's last
bath. He searched Legolas' face for an answer.

"Valar! It is not what you think; I merely spilled water on myself,"
huffed the archer indignantly. He had not wet the bed since he was two
years old.

"Mmm," said Mithrandir and looked around for a seat,
dragging away the chair meant to serve the adorable little drop front
mahogany secretary situated near the clothes press. "Those scones will
be too dry without jam," he complained as he sat, frowning at the plain
pastries with displeasure.

"Can you not summon it hence? Honestly, what is the point of having the
skill and never using it?"

"I use it, elfling, when the circumstances require it. Would you employ
your bow as a fork, shooting an arrow into one of those slices of bread
and butter when your fingers are more than capable of transferring it
from the plate to your mouth?"

"Nay, I suppose not," Legolas shrugged, not really interested in the
argument for he recognised the delectable victuals as favourites from
his childhood, baked by Tulus with him in mind, no doubt. He was
munching with obvious pleasure and soon finished off all four of the
scones, dry or not. That made him thirsty and he eyed the teapot
warily. With a small sigh of resignation he poured out a cup of the
cold liquid, sipping it straight without sweetener or cream. After the
first taste his smile grew tremendous and he nodded in delight, for it
was mint leaf and lemon camomile, the only tea he could stand to drink,
and that Erestor knew this about him sent shivers down his spine. He
guzzled down nearly half the pot before recalling that he had not
bothered to offer any to the Istar. "Oh, sorry! Tea?"

Gandalf burst out laughing at this and reached over to pat the hidden
knee affectionately. "Nay, I have already partaken of a fine breakfast
with Dammand. Erestor had this meal prepared just for you, I would
guess."

A soft blush stole over the archer's cheeks and he glanced back at the
tray to see what else had been provided. In addition to the already
consumed scones and the rich, honey-sweetened wheat bread smeared with
thick layers of pale creamy butter, there was a bowl of blueberries, a
little pot of soft curds, and a handful of crunchy walnuts. Indeed,
every item belonged on his list of favourite foods, and Legolas felt
his face grow even warmer as he contemplated Erestor taking the trouble
to learn his preferences.

He, of course, knew everything the Noldo liked and disliked, from his
favourite colour to what sort of scents made him want to rut like a
buck during mating season, but had not thought Erestor had ever
directed similar attention his way. Another shiver worked its way
through his body and down into his groin, stirring flesh that had only
partially relaxed in the first place. With determined effort, aided by
a loud complaint from his ravenous stomach, he returned his mind to the
meal.

Legolas snatched up the berries, cheese, and walnuts and mixed them all
together in the bowl, exhaling a hum of anticipation as he stirred the
lumpy mixture with his spoon. The first mouthful was divine, so much so
that he closed his eyes as he crunched in bliss and completely missed
the soft knock on the half open door.

Erestor's head poked around the barricade just in time to see the
expression of absolute contentment that suffused Legolas' features when
he swallowed the initial bite of the whey and fruit concoction. He came
fully into the room, smiling to see his guest so improved and
displaying such a healthy appetite, and looked on happily as Legolas
scooped up a second serving and delivered it to his eager palate.

"Ah, I am going to enjoy watching you satisfy your needs,
Thranduilion," announced Erestor as he approached. It was perhaps a
poor choice of words, considering the morning's events, though he meant
them innocently enough.

Legolas' eyes flew open and he gasped, then gagged on the mouthful he
had just plopped upon his tongue as it attempted to go down his
windpipe, staring in red-faced alarm as he put down the bowl and
clamped his hand over his mouth, desperately trying to stifle the need
to cough, breathe, and swallow at the same time. Frantically he gazed
about for a napkin, a towel, his shirt Valar! Anything but the
sheets! and gratefully snatched the handkerchief Mithrandir waved
before his face. He spat, sputtered, heaved, and finally sucked down
the rest of the tea right from the squat little pot, landing it back on
the tray with a thump and a wistful sigh.

"Forgive me," he managed, unable to meet the Noldo's eyes. No matter
how simple and ordinary the situation might be, he seemed incapable of
presenting a cultivated and dignified manner in front of Elrond's
former chief advisor. Legolas saw the wizard's hand return to pat his
knee again and the movement directed his sight to his lap where the
covers had shifted dangerously low, exposing all of his stomach and the
uppermost hairs of his pubic thatch, against which his intractable cock
was determinedly lifting. As nonchalantly as possible, which is the
same as saying with panic stricken abashment, he hastily tucked the
sheet back around his waist.

"Nay, not at all, I should not have startled you," replied his host
with the self same nonchalance, having shared the moment of revelation
with the silvan and averted his eyes immediately. Well, almost
immediately. "Are you all right? Would you like more tea?"

"Oh, do not trouble yourself; water is fine," Legolas gathered his
courage, glanced up, and found Erestor intently scrutinising the
ceiling. He exhaled a calming breath and manufactured a rather anxious
looking smile when his response encouraged the Noldo to return his gaze
from the heights.

"It is no bother, truly; Tulus will have it ready in an instant."
Erestor turned to reach for the bell pull by the mantle, both relieved
and unnervingly disappointed to find the graceful appendage discretely
disguised once more.

"I think he has had enough of the tea, Erestor, it is a strong
stimulant and will keep him up…er…from rest if he has any more,"
Mithrandir commented and that brought the matter to a close ere the
Noldo had time to yank the cord. None would disagree; further
stimulation Legolas definitely did not require.

A somewhat suspenseful silence ensued as Erestor returned to the
bedside, uncertain whether he should remain standing, sit on the
mattress, or go out to the parlour and bring back another chair.
Mithrandir solved the dilemma for him, impatiently shoving the tray
farther onto the bed and pointing to the vacancy in front of the Wood
Elf's crossed limbs.

"Sit," he ordered summarily in the voice he reserved for Important
Business from Sulímo, King of the Valar and Lord of the Furthest
West. "There is much to discuss. Legolas, finish your breakfast."

Erestor and Legolas shared matching frantic and terrified glances as
the esteemed vintner gathered his loose green silk robe about him and
gingerly lowered his bottom onto the soft feather bed. The added weight
drew the covers down from the archer's lap just a centimetre or two and
Legolas snatched it back in place. Erestor tried to compensate by
pushing himself a little further back and was surprised when his hand
encountered a slightly soggy section of sheets.

He discarded his initial speculation, for his sensitive sense of smell
detected none of the acrid aromas associated with urine. He inhaled
again attempting to obtain a better sample of the wet stain's
components. Erestor could detect nothing other than a slightly sweet,
musky overcast to the dampened fibres and realised this was in fact the
archer's scent. That gave his libido a strong jolt and he was rather
glad to be wearing the baggy pyjamas.

Neither his discomfort nor his surreptitious sniffing were well
concealed and Legolas groaned, lifting a slender hand to cover his
vision from the sight.

"I was in the bathing chamber and spilled water on myself, nothing
more," he explained quietly.

"Of course."

"It is the truth!"

"I am not disputing you."

"Your tone implies otherwise."

Mithrandir's lips parted slightly and his squinting eyes ricocheted
between the sniping antagonists.

"Well what was I supposed to think?"

"I am not an infant!"

"Indeed not." A swift flicker of a glance surveyed the Wood Elf from
chest to groin, inciting a rise in colour in the opposite direction,
before locking once more with the cerulean glare of smouldering
indignation.

"Enough!" The wizard heaved himself up from his chair with
an impressive swish of his flowing robes. "Desist from this trivial
bickering! If it would settle the matter, I will get Tulus to make up
the bed all fresh and dry ere we continue."

"Please do not do that!" Legolas' beseeching voice was fraught with
humiliated desperation and he exhibited the most appealingly pathetic
expression of mistreated puppydom his cornflower orbs knew how to
concoct. In this case, the pathos was entirely genuine, for if Tulus
found out it might as well be publicly announced in every community
throughout Aman that Legolas had spilled on the sheets of Meril Thaifn.

It was not that she meant any harm or would invent untruths, she simply
could not keep quiet about anything. And even the most mundane activity
involving the silvan member of the Fellowship was immediately consumed
by Valinor's quidnucs who masticated, macerated, and ultimately
metamorphosed it into something unseemly and risqué or boldly
obscene.
'This morning at Erestor's, Legolas brushed his teeth and swallowed
some oral antiseptic,' rapidly transmuted into 'This morning at Meril
Thaifn, Legolas brushed his teeth delicately over the throbbing head of
Erestor's full and weeping shaft, eagerly swallowing the ensuing rush
of his lover's warm, tangy seed down his long, elegant throat.'

Legolas shuddered reflexively, not necessarily from shame or dread,
keenly aware of a rather persistent throbbing in his own anatomy, as
this notion meandered through his mental pathways.

"As you wish, as you
wish." Sympathetic vibrations modulated Mithrandir's words and lent
them a compassionate overtone, though he had no idea what had prompted
such urgent begging.

A short interval of soundless adjustment transpired in which the elves
traded furtive peeks at one another. Then in unison they drew and
released air, hoping to restore a modicum of normalcy to their
interactions, and the Noldo picked up the bowl of yogurt and held it
out with a tentative smile.

"Hannad," Legolas said and could not suppress a slight twitch when his
fingers lightly brushed his saviour's whilst accepting the offering. It
did not help matters to have the object of his long-cherished desire
seated so close, wearing nothing but pyjama pants and an open top that
presented tantalising glimpses of Erestor's warm, broad, muscular
chest. Instantly the memory of being in full contact with the Noldo's
solid torso just the previous day produced an unmistakable uplift in
the thin covering spanning the space between his knees. Legolas took up
the spoon and proceeded to stir the curd mixture nearly into soup.

Mithrandir observed silently, unable to contain an abbreviated eye-roll
over such juvenile reactions from elves so many thousands of years old.
Of course, he had not been privy to the events on the porch at dawn and
thus the true cause of their awkwardness was unknown to him. The Istar
wished he had his pipe so as to annoy the irritating immortals just a
tad and perhaps distract their thoughts from Legolas' penis. In
reality, however, he was glad to see the pair finally confronting their
obvious and mutual interest.

But at this rate it will take longer than an Ent-moot to complete
the courtship.

At this thought he stopped himself and drew his brows skyward in
wonder, for it had already been quite a bit longer than that since he
first became aware of Legolas' attraction for Elrond's seneschal. In
all that time, Legolas had probably spoken to Erestor on six or seven
occasions at best, and always in the most formal of settings. What
deep-seated insecurity lay at the base of this hesitation, given the
unfailing regard the Wood Elf had preserved for the Noldo, was
troubling to say the least. Thranduil's youngest was not known for
bashful reticence.

Of course, there had not really been much time for Legolas to pursue
his interest in Middle-earth, for he had apparently never laid eyes on
Erestor until
the fateful Council of Elrond, and had left Imladris with the
Fellowship almost immediately by the reckoning of elves. The erstwhile
Seneschal had departed for Aman with Elrond's entourage not quite
three years later and Legolas had missed his chance.

Mithrandir knew all too well the reason for Legolas' reluctance to
reveal his desire in these current times.

Despite the
nagging uneasiness this ruminating produced, Mithrandir had to admit it
was rather endearing to see the pair of dauntless warriors so
tongue-tied and self-conscious. He rose from his chair and paced the
room, stroking his chin hair thoughtfully as he nodded his head.

Yes, this will work out nicely all around. He stopped beside the
bed and smiled down on the misdirected lovers.

"Now then, these are troubling times and unfortunate events have
occurred, but we must carry on. Legolas, I need your report."

"Aye," the archer sighed and set the bowl down, suddenly finding he had
no desire to swallow another spoonful. He gathered up the tray and held
it out to Erestor. "I thank you kindly for your gracious hospitality,
Lord Erestor." There was no missing the aristocratic tone of dismissal
in the polite words.

The Lord of Meril Thaifn frowned. He was not about to be brushed off so
easily. He took the tray and plunked it right down on the floor beside
the bed, then settled more fully onto the mattress, sending the silvan
a pointed look.

"You are more than welcome, Thranduilion."

"My name," this through gritted teeth, "is Legolas."

"And mine is Erestor."

"If the introductions are concluded could we please get on with it?"
huffed the Istar in exasperation.

"But, Mithrandir, he must leave!" Legolas pointed at his host.

"I am not going anywhere; this is my house after all." Erestor slapped
the finger away from its hovering position near his cheek. "I want
answers!"

"Ow! It is for your protection." Legolas shook his hand and frowned at
the Noldo. "Tell him to go, Mithrandir," he ordered.

"Nay. We need Erestor."

"What?"

"Hah!"

"But Mithrandir…"

"Legolas!"

Both elves jumped at the volume and vehemence of the wizard's shout and
another silence descended upon the group in its aftermath. Mithrandir
sighed and rubbed his forehead, for he felt the stirrings of a
malicious migraine trying to take root, and then attempted to compose
his features into a more congenial expression.

"All right, then, let us start over, shall we?" he began.

"Fine. There was no need for you to yell at me," sniffed Legolas, arms
folded in front of his body and an affronted expression upon his
downcast face.

"Aye, Legolas has endured a terrible ordeal, Gandalf. Try to be a
little more understanding," chimed in Erestor.

"Thank you," said Legolas, surprised, and lifted a grateful countenance
to his benefactor.

"Certainly," replied the Noldo with a warm smile. "Do you feel equal to
this? If you are too weary we can wait a few more hours."

"Nay, I am well, thanks to your timely intervention."

"Ah, think nothing of it; you would have done the same."

The dialogue came to a halt as their eyes met and each became
simultaneously, completely, and hopelessly lost while exploring the
unsounded depths of the other's soul.

The Maia groaned and slumped dejectedly back into his chair.

"My dear, dear friends, I am sorry to interrupt this charming and
quaint repartee, yet I must. Legolas, remember the matter of the
portal. We must discuss the events that brought the pair of you
together." Careful! Go gently this time, he cautioned
himself. Erestor is right, the Wood Elf is more fragile than usual.

"Nay, Mithrandir, never will I forget!" cried Legolas, and the pain and
sorrow in his heart was clear from the woeful timbre of his barely
audible voice. A hand reached toward him and he instinctively extended
his to meet it, finding his fingers enclosed within the Noldo lord's.
The next instant Erestor's other hand covered the archer's, softly
stroking the deceptive delicacy of the slender-boned manus, and the
silvan stared at the protective clasp, finding his throat suddenly
tight with inexpressible emotion. He lifted his eyes to the dark inky
orbs of this unlikely supporter and found comfort in the encouraging
nod and sympathetic smile upon his host's features.

"Take your time; just begin and it will be over before you realise it,"
said Erestor quietly and squeezed lightly. His soul soared when he felt
Legolas return the pressure.

"Very well," a deep lungful in and out and then he launched into the
tale. "We were betrayed. Ringë must have another contact on the
inside of IMF, someone much higher. Every move we made was known in
advance; indeed, I am convinced our actions were choreographed to
someone's specific design."

"Why do you say this?" demanded the Istar in alarm.

"Because there were other agents in the field, working the same case.
Or rather, they were working a different case, the real one, and we
were set up. I recognised one of them and after our capture she
revealed her connection to Ringë."

"Wait, wait wait," interposed Erestor. "I have no idea what you two are
discussing. Please, I need the background information if I am to be of
any help at all."

"Yet that is the very knowledge that will imperil you," Legolas
objected, clutching tight to the fingers guarding his and staring in
imploring entreaty deeply into the Noldo's eyes. "I will not
deliberately put you in jeopardy."

"I am moved by your concern, but it is as I said before: Ringë has
already seen me with you. Indeed, I was in your secret lair when he
arrived. It was I who cast the freezing solution upon him and sealed
him in the jar."

"What?" demanded the wizard in alarm.

"True and those are exactly the reasons I would name for limiting
further involvement. If you drop from the scene now and remain in
hiding until it is over…"

"Hold, I need to hear that earlier part again, please," interrupted
Mithrandir. "Erestor, you did not mention any of this in your account!"

"What have you told him?" Legolas' eyes grew huge in alarm.

"Nothing, or rather just that Ringë tried to murder you. And there
has not been a chance to explain more, Mithrandir. Nor am I going to
hide. I am the owner of an important and esteemed business venture,
Legolas, and my investors expect me to maintain a certain public
presence." Poor Erestor tried his best to keep up with both sides of
the conversation.

"Ai Valar! This is not what I wanted to happen!"

"But is has happened, through no fault of yours, Legolas," assured
Erestor earnestly not wishing the silvan to blame himself for whatever
was to come. "Ringë will never believe anything other than my
complete involvement."

"Erestor is right. If you wish to protect him then knowledge is the
best weapon to use in his defence. Without it, he may be misled and
betrayed by those in Ringë's circle."

"Now start over from the beginning this time," encouraged Erestor.

"All right, it cannot be helped now I suppose. Where should I start,
Mithrandir? I do not know how far back to go."

"I can supply the necessary basis," the wizard said kindly, seeing how
distraught was Legolas' heart to have placed someone he so deeply cared
for in harm's way. "But I would have the story of the freezing of Cold
Lake first, if you please. Erestor, that is your cue."

Erestor complied, leaving out the unsavoury details of Ringë's
sexual assault on his new friend, and by the time it was done
Mithrandir was chuckling mirthlessly.

"Well, well, that was quite resourceful of you Legolas; I am
impressed. And it alleviates to some extent the burden of haste
pressing upon us. It is unlikely Ringë will be free anytime soon
if the seal was in fact air tight."

"No, we cannot trust to more than three days' grace," Legolas
disagreed, "and it has been one full night and a third of the first day
already."

"That sounds grave," added Erestor, "and all the more reason to get on
with this tale, Mithrandir. Please explain about the troubles in which
Legolas is mired."

"Very well. I must warn you one final time, however, that once you
possess this knowledge there is no turning back. Your life will change
irrevocably and no more will you simply be Erestor the Lord of Meril
Thaifn," the Istar droned darkly.

"What do you mean? Are you saying I must give up my wineries and my
home?" Erestor had not quite expected that.

"If it was required to see this job through, would you do it?" demanded
Mithrandir quietly.

"That is not fair, Mithrandir, he does not know what the job is,"
protested Legolas.

"Neither did you," the wizard turned his kindly, creased smile upon his
elven friend as these words defeated further dissent before it might
arise.

Now Erestor considered this request carefully. As he saw it, whatever
the particulars might be, his duty was to keep Legolas alive and
extricate
him from whatever mess he was mixed up in. If that meant leaving behind
his beloved Meril Thaifn, well he doubted he would be at peace there
should further harm befall the Wood Elf. The thought of Legolas
bleeding to death alone in that hidden cavern flooded his mind and sent
his heart into horrified palpitations; the Noldo knew his decision had
been made even before he considered it.

"So be it," he announced stubbornly. "Whatever it is, I will take it on
and see it through with you, Legolas."

TBC

Remmen vi Gonathras [Tangled in Entanglement]

Legolas wailed in combined pain, shame, desire, and irritable
impatience as he shifted his feet in the clinging curtains, intending
to free himself from their inexplicable entanglement round his ankles,
and inadvertently rubbed one thigh against his sensitive balls. He
rolled to his back and propped himself up on his elbows so he could
glare with fitting censure at his hard and florid cock, which gave no
indication of resuming more manageable proportions anytime soon without
either manual assistance or immersion in ice water. A brush of wind
puffed the sheer drapes all around his body and in frustration he
twisted to get out of the suffocating panels of fabric, succeeding only
in yanking one section of the white coverings down atop his head,
supporting rod, brackets, little sliding rings and all.

"Nestegi Sarnas!" [Fuck a pile of rocks!] he seethed, shoving the
voluminous mass from his face as a soft giggle met his ears.

"That does not sound much like an erotic invitation, but you know I am
up for anything you wish to try," whispered Elrohir, slipping his arms
around Legolas' body and drawing him onto his lap. He pressed his
burgeoning erection firmly against the Wood Elf's supple fleshy arse,
propped his chin on the silvan's shoulder, and sucked in an excited
breath. Legolas' penis was poking up out of the swirl of white
material, verily calling for his touch. And Elrohir answered, reaching
down and wrapping his fingers, callused from centuries of wielding a
broadsword, around this lesser, more enthralling blade. His heart
leaped when Legolas yelped and bucked forward into the compressing
clasp, and rewarded the Wood Elf's response with a tantalising sweep of
his thumb over the slippery glans.

"Ai!" Legolas shuddered.

"Oh, see how that fits my hand so well? I can grip you tight at the
root and still the hot little head sticks out, begging for attention.
Shall I lick it, would that please you? Valar, Legolas, let me fill
you," he whispered in the archer's ear and bit its pointed tip,
grinding his groin against the muscular mounds propped upon his loins.
His other hand was anything but dormant, being employed in pinching and
pulling at the firm little peaks of ripe red flesh pertly arising on
the silvan's chest.

"Aye, that is…oh! Nay! Elrohir, nay, I…"

"Hush now, I know what you need. Close your eyes; pretend I am Erestor,
as we always do." Elrohir's whispered words were husky and brimming
with lascivious anticipation. He squeezed the shaft and the left nipple
while simultaneously sucking in noisy delight upon the inflamed tip of
Legolas' right ear.

"Ah Elrohir! Please oh please oh please," Legolas moaned helplessly,
mesmerised by the talented fist pumping him so expertly, incapable of
thought beyond the surging waves of tingling lubricity creeping through
ever nerve, setting his muscles to quivering expectancy and every
centimetre of bare skin afire. He leaned back against the Orc Slayer's
heaving torso and crammed one hand under his arse, desperately trying
to undo Elrohir's pants as the twin's pelvis continued to rock, shoving
ever harder, the pace growing faster.

"Thranduilion, if I fuck you will you suck me?"

A sordid feral growl was the only reply this request received and
Elrohir chuckled smugly as he claimed his conquest's mouth in a
dominating kiss that nearly depleted the Wood Elf's orifice of saliva.
Assuming the role of his former tutor was the easiest method of
reducing Legolas to antagonistic surrender. There was nothing he could
not be coerced into trying if the twins played the part of their
father's kinsman well enough.

Elrohir's lips moved to the archer's elegant neck, intending to mark it
with a prominent love-bite, but when Legolas angled his head to offer
better access the dark ugly finger prints of his most recent lover's
work came into view. The younger twin paused, uneasy about how rough he
ought to be this time, and resumed his extravagant stimulation of the
ear instead. It was at this precise moment that Elladan began sharing
the conversation he was having with their former mentor.

'Wait till Celebrian hears that Elrohir was pawing the poor elf's
privates even as Legolas lay, barely conscious, unable to fend off such
undesired molestation. I dare say it was not the first offence, was it?'

Elrohir froze as this phrase reached him through his brother's
thoughts. He ceased his nibbling stimulation of Legolas' ear and
removed his hand at once from the archer's throbbing column of virile
masculinity. The jutting pink penis refused to lie down, protruding at
nearly right angles to the silvan's taut abdomen. Elrohir swallowed and
squinched his eyelids shut, determined to heed this charge, one his
conscience had presented often over the years and he had chosen to
ignore. He let a second pass to compose his soul, then opened eyes,
ears, and heart. In sorrow he realised Erestor's indictment was not
lacking in accuracy.

The younger twin flinched as he took in Legolas' excited state. Heart
pounding and breath escaping in great gasps of panting need, Legolas
squirmed restlessly, his fingers still scrabbling ineffectually to
untie the stubborn laces sealing away Elrohir's lust. A translucent
bead of moisture welled up from the slit in the stiff silvan shaft and
cascaded over the lip of the head, sliding down the long slender cock
with excruciating slowness, dragging Elrohir's eyes along with it. He
gulped down a deep breath, fighting back the urge to let
his tongue make the same journey.

Aye, lust. Have we only used him, pretending to offer comfort but
really just taking our fill of him? He asked of Elladan.

'You should both be ashamed of yourselves!' This remark from
Erestor made its way back before Elladan had the chance to reply to his
brother's query, and was followed by the immediate realisation of the
indignant lament. They were beyond ashamed, seeing how they had so
freely played their friend's responsive body against him for their own
delight.

At this sudden, unflattering, objective perception of his actions
Elrohir sighed and wrapped both arms around Legolas' shoulders tightly,
hugging him close and squeezing his eyes closed to keep back a squall
of mortified tears.

"What is it?" demanded Legolas, his voice low and wavering. "Do you
spurn me now, too?" and he struggled mightily to get loose from his
friend's close embrace, a sob working free from his lungs even as his
body could not elude the twin's hold. They must sense it upon me;
the taint of the Istar's seed. Mayhap the scent clings to me like stink
betrays a rotting mere. His efforts to flee increased.

"Nay, Legolas, you know that is not so," placated Elrohir, locking his
arms together around his friend and holding on. "It is just that I have
only now realised what I was doing."

"And suddenly that is disgusting to you? You are cruel to taunt me so!
First Erestor and now you, too! Let me go! I have to get from here!"

"Ai Elbereth! Nay nay nay! Legolas be still and listen; neither of us
are rejecting you. Valar! I want you so badly I may come in my pants if
you do not cease your thrashing. And Erestor has just told Elladan he
could not overcome his desire to touch you, and you know he is the
penultimate example of absolute self-control."

"Then why? What is it that makes you stop, made him stop?" Legolas
turned in Elrohir's arms and burrowed his face beneath the Noldo's
chin. "I am willing to allow…"

"Aye, you are always willing. You always let us manipulate you to our
satisfaction, but today it was not your wish to be aroused to this
state in the first place. It has been made clear to me that often this
is the case, yet we never listen when you tell us no. That is why
Erestor stopped; only he feels even worse because of what you have
endured, not saying what it was though I can guess easily enough,
Legolas. And that is why I will not continue something I should never
have initiated. Nor will I ever disregard your refusal again, this I
swear, if only you will forgive me, Cuthenin. [True Bow] Please say
that you will!"

"Of course I do," Legolas answered and then sighed. He stirred
uncomfortably in the twin's arms and Elrohir let him go. "You just
picked a most inopportune moment to have this enlightenment and its
ensuing adjustment in character." He complained and struggled to his
feet, accepting Elrohir's help to do so.

"True, and I am sorry for that also," apologised Elrohir, biting his
lip as he watched Legolas stomp into the bathing chamber, cock bowing
between his thighs as he went, and winced when the sound of splashing
water and a groan of misery followed.

The archer returned, dripping wet from the waist down, robe demurely
tucked around his naked body, and shot Elrohir an accusing glare as he
hastened to the bed and climbed under the sheets. These he dragged
completely over his head as he huddled into a dejected little mound in
the middle of the mattress.

"Oh pen dithen," [little one] Elrohir sighed and moved to sit on the
edge of the bed, patting what he hoped was only a shoulder through the
covers. "Will you sleep if I sing to you?" The younger of Elrond's sons
did not await the reply, however, instead filling the room with the
opening verses of his dear friend's favourite lullaby.

This fact he had discovered one night in Gondor when all three elves
were at the palace and Arwen's second-born was fraught with colic. The
poor babe had cried and cried, inconsolable, refusing her mother's
breast and her father's bouncing and jiggling antics, screaming in her
uncles' arms whether they paced the nursery or rocked her in the
willow-wood rocker gifted to the royal couple by Rumil of Lorien. They
all sang and made faces, changed the infant's swaddling, cooed and
cajoled and clucked to no avail. Nothing worked and finally the
exhausted family members had escaped to their quarters, unable to
endure more, leaving the nanny to ensure the child came to no harm.

When the screeching had abruptly ceased amid the dulcet strains of the
archer's tenor, it was this lullaby that Legolas had chosen to sing.
Elrohir had got to the babe's room first and the image of Legolas,
moonlight shining through his sheer night-shirt, protectively cradling
the infant against his heart, the crown of her tiny head tucked under
his cheek as he gently swayed in time with the melody, had been
heart-wrenchingly sweet and disturbingly erotic at the same time.

As he sang, Elrohir reflected that he would need either a lengthy,
invigorating
bath with his brother or a swift dip in the garden's brook before he
would be able to think of anything other than burying his long shaft
deep into the heat of Legolas' arse and spilling his ecstasy therein.

"Elladan summons me, hên rhovan," [wild child] said Elrohir, the
song finished, and leaned over to kiss the part of the unyielding bump
where he thought Legolas' head might be. He made his excuses, knowing
the archer was not asleep but was at least a little calmer and more at
ease. "We will visit again before you leave and speak of how to take
advantage of this extraordinary coincidence. Vairë tires of your
mooning and pining. Why you want the grouchy old prude only Iluvatar
knows, but Erestor is not as indifferent to your charms as you
imagined. You must make your feelings known at last."

A forlorn and panicked little noise issued from the bulge and it
twitched briefly.

"Do not fret; we will help you claim your prize," promised Elrohir as
he quietly exited and shut the door.