Tonight and Any Other

Another chapter, and so quickly! I'm so proud of myself. Whee, elf-fuckage.

Gaberiel, if you don't get chapter 7 up soon... *glare* My lust for elf-sex must be satisfied! Oh, and remind me to kill you for getting me hooked on the word "fuckage." Also for getting more reviews than I do. *pout*


Title: Tonight and Any Other [Part 8/?]
Author: Silvertree (Megumi Takahashi)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Legolas/Haldir, Orophin/Whitelock, Glorfindel/Elrond, eventual Legolas/Aragorn and Celeborn/Haldir
Setting: Pre-LotR
Disclaimers/description: Please see chapter one of Tonight and Any Other.
Dedications: CryKat - You rock, chica. (Without you, where would I get my happy little LotR lemon piccies? Ah, Rúmil's bang-things... *purr*)

'...' Denotes speech in the Elvish languages.
/.../ Denotes thought.
Passages in italics denote scenes occurring in dreams.

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"The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
Let others follow it who can!
Let them a journey new begin,
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet."

-The Old Walking Song

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Those who had only heard of the meals held in the main hall of the House of Elrond knew simply that they were magnificent, with food and drink and song. They used terms such as "impressive," "glorious," and "wonderful" to describe that which they knew only by word of mouth, or by the writings of others. Those who had actually been fortunate enough to attend such gatherings in Imladris knew that everything that those who had only heard of the occasions said was a lie.

No words in any language could properly describe the festivities.

Legolas knew full well the hospitality of Imladris and its fair Lord. He had only been privy to one such feast before, but it was recorded firmly in his mind. The food had been incredible, and the songs and poems had flowed as freely as the wine. Oh, the wine! The drink was one of the many things Imladris was famous for; ranging from pink to deep burgundy, it was made both wet and dry, sweet and bitter, and everything in between.

The Elven-Prince followed silently behind Estel, his thoughts threatening to deafen him with the din they made inside of his head. Half of them were chiding him for enjoying the moment he had experienced with Elrond's foster son, while the other half soothed his guilty conscience, assuring him that it was merely a one-time occurrence. To make matters more confusing, half of those soothing thoughts told him that there might be something more to be found in Estel's obvious attraction to the blond Prince.

Thus, with such turbulent conceptions racing about in his mind, Legolas Greenleaf, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, sat down to dine with a splitting headache.

Elrond smiled as Legolas and Estel entered the hall, and he gestured for them to approach him. The Elven-Lord could not help noticing how attractive the Prince of Mirkwood looked in the robes Estel had given him. Rather than blend in with his pale blond hair, the silver and pale blue cloth seemed to heighten the effect of the golden locks, and they gave Legolas a soft, almost otherworldly appearance. The robes were belted by a band of leaves, each leaf cunningly worked in silver and accented with gold, and the construction settled delicately upon Legolas' slender hips. Elrond's eyes flickered to the circlet that rested on Legolas head, and he silently voiced his approval. It was a fitting crown for one so young and lovely.

However, where Elrond was watching the Prince, Glorfindel was watching the human that accompanied him. The Elven-Lord knew well what it felt like to be young and attracted to someone, and the look in Estel's grey-green eyes gave him away as surely as if he had shouted the fact for the entire hall to hear. Legolas would have difficulty remaining faithful to Haldir and Haldir alone, whether the deviation was intentional or not, with Elrond's foster son pursuing him.

Estel bowed slightly to his foster father, and Elrond smiled softly in return. He gestured to the two seats next to him, and bade Legolas and Estel to settle themselves. As a visiting Prince, Legolas sat immediately to Elrond's left, with Estel one chair further down. As was the custom among visiting kinsmen, Legolas was expected to share Elrond's plate and chalice, a fact that the blond Elf found of no great consequence.

After what seemed like an eternity to Legolas, Elrond signaled for the meal to begin. The dark-haired Lord sensed that something was amiss with his younger kinsman, and so he tried to keep the talk light. He also made no complain when Legolas drank more that he had expected; the young Elf held his liquor remarkably well, and since Legolas and Elrond had similar tastes in wine, the Lord of Imladris did not object to refilling the shared chalice multiple times.

The wine, Legolas discovered, did wonders for his headache, and by the time he had consumed about five cups of it, he finally began to feel a little less tense. By the end of the sixth cup, he actually laughed, and found himself engaged in intense discussions with Estel over the most trivial of things, from the best way to fletch an arrow to the most promising places to gather herbs of healing. Legolas ate mechanically as they talked, barely tasting the food; his entire being seemed to be fixed upon Estel.

It was a fact that Glorfindel did not overlook, and he resolved to make a point of speaking to Elrond about it.

Clearing his throat, Elrond finally rose from his seat and tapped a silver spoon lightly against the side of a crystal glass. The clear ringing echoed throughout the crowded hall and brought conversation to a halt, as the inhabitants of Imladris awaited their Lord's words. Elrond folded his hands into the opposing sleeves of his robe, and his sharp grey eyes gazed impassively at his audience.

'Friends, although I am loathe to call an end to our merriment so early in its course, I fear that I must. As you know, tomorrow is the twentieth birthday of Estel, an important landmark in his life. Therefore we shall be commencing preparations this night, with the festivities to begin at noontide tomorrow. It would be my recommendation that you obtain what rest you can.'

That was it; there was no dismissal or order to leave. Elrond's followers knew the ways of their Lord and respected them, and rising, they bowed and went upon their individual ways. Elrond sank back into his seat and rubbed his temples, exhaling with a loud sigh.

'I am admittedly weary, friends.' He gazed for a moment atolasolas, who still sat next to him. 'I sense that you are still weary as well, my friend, and so I shall not keep you tonight. In the morning we shall discuss what your father sent you here to ask my advice on. Oh, and he wishes you to stay for the festivities as well, as a representative of Mirkwood.'

Legolas nodded, and rose from his seat.

'As you wish, my Lord Elrond. And now, with your leave, I believe I shall depart from your fair company. I do feel somewhat weary, and I should welcome my bed.'

Elrond chucked, and shook his head.

'Always so formal, my kinsman. Aye, you have my leave, for I too desire rest. I will talk to you on the morrow; until then, may the brightest stars light your path.'

Legolas bowed a second time and swept out of the hall; he had not noticed Estel when he left. It appeared that the young Man had already departed, perhaps seeking a place of solitude. A place of solitude, Legolas reflected, was exactly what he needed at the moment. He felt confused, and he wanted to be able to sit alone and sort his thoughts out. And unless it was a time of celebration, Legolas knew, the best place in Imladris to find the quiet he sought was very close by.

---

The Hall of Fire was familiar to the Prince of Mirkwood, for he had frequented it on his previous visit to Imladris. He slipped quietly through the elegant doors that marked the entrance to the Hall, and he immediately felt the warmth of the fire that burned year-round sink to his very core. He walked silently towards the blaze, hoping to find himself alone in the large chamber.

Legolas did not receive his wish, for sitting close to the fire was a familiar dark figure. Legolas suppressed a groan; Elbereth, would he never be free of Estel's presence? He half expected to find the human next to him when he woke in the morning. Feeling somewhat put out, Legolas stalked over to the fire, and sank down in front of it. Estel acknowledged him with a nod, as he set the book he had been reading to one side. The pair sat in silence for long minutes, each trying desperately not to stare at the other, until Estel broke the thick silence.

'Legolas, may I ask you a personal question?'

Legolas shifted uncomfortably; what right did Elrond's foster son have to do something of that nature? But a reply had spilled from Legolas' lips before the Prince even had time to think about what he was saying.

'It depends on how personal it is, Estel. But ask, and I shall answer if I am willing.'

Estel licked his lips and took a deep breath, shifting slightly so that his back was to the fire that burned in the fireplace.

'What do you know of your heritage?'

Legolas blinked; that was most certainly not the question he had been expecting. He wondered why the other had asked it, but he saw no reason not to give Estel an answer. Legolas turned to face Estel, and folded his hands in his lap.

'I am a distant kinsman to Lord Elrond, and Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel as well, though my main tie to the Lady is through her marriage to my father's kinsman. Through this I can also claim relation to Glorfindel of Finarphir's House. My blood is mixed, carrying both the strains of the Noldor people and the Sindar. It is said that the Noldor, those who came to this land in exile, feel the Sea-longing the strongest. I suppose that means I, too, am fated to heed the inherent call of my people, to journey into the West.' Legolas trailed off, and gave Estel a sidelong glance. 'Why do you ask?'

Legolas felt a spike of pity for the young man when he responded; in that instant Estel resembled little more than a frightened, lost child. Even his voice was different, unsure and barely above a whisper.

'I do not know my own lineage. I know only that Lord Elrond raised me, though I am not his child is is difficult, not knowing who you are exactly, in the scheme of things, especially when you have been brought up in the presence of Elven royalty. I know of my mother, but as for my father...' Estel trailed off, moistening his lips with his tongue before he continued. 'I was wondering if you knew, Legolas.'

Impulsively, Legolas reached out and embraced Estel. He wished that he could tell the child that he knew everything, as if that lie would ease Estel's pain. But the Prince knew that in the long run, it would only hurt the human more, and so he remained silent for long moments. A slender hand came up to brush over the dark hair, soothing in its motions. Finally, Legolas took a deep breath and pushed himself back, sapphire blue eyes meeting stormy grey-green ones.

'Estel, 'twould be a lie if I said that I did know. Embarrassing as it is to tell, I did not even know of you until my arrival. But perhaps that can be excused, for the Elves of Lórien are secretive, even among their own kind. However, I do know something that may be of comfort, though I am not sure. Master Elrond is one to be trusted implicitly, and if he will not reveal your lineage to you now, then there is without question a very good and firm reason. I'm sure that in due time he will explain things to you.'

Estel lowered his face momentarily, feeling a slight pang of embarrassment. It wasn't that he didn't trust his foster father, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the half-Elf was hiding something of monumental proportions from him. After a minute Estel met Legolas' eyes again, and he forced a weak smile onto his face.

'Do you truly think so, Legolas?'

The Prince of Mirkwood gave the worried young man a soft, genuine smile in return.

'I know so, Estel. Trust in Elrond as you have trusted in me by asking this.'

Estel grinned, and this time it was a true expression of happiness. He rose, and when Legolas followed suit, he embraced the Elf, brushing a light kiss of peace and friendship across Legolas' lips. The Prince was stunned into silence, a fact Estel seemed to overlook.

'Thank you, dear Legolas. Know that your words have not been wasted; I shall remember what you have said to me this night. Peace be upon you.' With that, Estel broke away and hurried from the Hall of Fire, his heart lighter than it had been for some time. Legolas merely stood, fingers pressed to his lips, watching the human depart.

---

Elrond gave a soft groan as he entered his chambers. Was there never to be peace, freedom from the darkness? There were times Elrond wished nothing more than to be able to board a ship and sail into the West, away from the troubles Middle-earth brought him. But that was not an option, and instead he was left to deal with the difficulties of trying to vanquish evil and bring the free peoples together, all while trying to maintain his sanity.

It brought to mind a juggling act using razor-sharp knives.

/And now,/; thought Elrond as he tugged off his robes and draped them over a chair, /there is the problem of Mirkwood./ Elrond had been feeling increasingly uneasy over the past few years; there was a persistent dark cloud in the corner of his mind, hovering ominously as if waiting for the perfect moment to unleash a downpour of bad news. The incident with Thranduil's realm was merely the first drop, Elrond knew, and he shuddered to think at what might follow.

'Elrond?' The soft, musical vocalization of his name brought the Elven-Lord out of his thoughts, and he realized that he had been standing motionless for several minutes. A sigh escaped Elrond's lips as he crossed the moonlit room to the bed; it was getting to be too much. The Master of Imladris slipped gratefully beneath the covers and into Glorfindel's welcome embrace. He said nothing, merely clung to his lover and buried his face in a lock of thick, clean blond hair. Glorfindel ran his fingers through Elrond's dark tresses, deftly undoing the small braids. As he smoothed the haith ith his hands, he felt the tightness in Elrond's muscles, and quickly began working to relieve it. He smiled softly as Elrond seemed to melt against him, but the look of contentment was soon replaced with one of concern.

'Elrond... What troubles you, dear one?'

A soft murmur acted as a prelude to Elrond's actual response, as the Elven-Lord arched bacto Gto Glorfindel's strong hands.

'I'm worried, Glorfindel. Nay,' Elrond said, with a bitter laugh, 'I'm more than worried. I'm scared. After all this time, the incident with Mirkwood is merely a precursor to something far, far worse. I've been feeling it growing, and soon it will come to a head. I'm not sure how soon, and that is what worries me, for I have no idea how long we have to prepare ourselves for it.'

Glorfindel sighed, and kissed Elrond's forehead lightly.

'Then we shall do the only thing we can, love. Go on as if nothing were out of place, while we remain ever watchful. Although I confess, I too am worried, and not solely by the issue of Mirkwood.'

Elrond raised an eyebrow at the statement, wondering at Glorfindel's meaning. He made a soft noise encouraging the blond Elven-Lord to continue, before he nuzzled gently at the soft skin of Glorfindel's throat. The blond Elf swallowed forcefully, trying to focus on something other than the feeling of Elrond's lips against his skin.

'It's about Estel and Legolas, Elrond. The Prince is wed to one in fair Lórien, and yet your son relentlessly pursues him. Legolas has only just arrived, and already Estel seeks him out at every opportunity. I do not fault Estel, but I do worry for Legolas' sake. He wants to remain faithful to Haldir, but as Estel becomes more and more insistent, such a thing becomes difficult. I do not wish for Legolas to do anything that he may come to regret. He believes it cruel to take another lover after having only one for so many years. It is true that some take others into their lives when the primary lover becomes dull to them, but...' Glorfindel trailed off at the horrified look in Elrond's eyes, and he cupped the Elven-Lord's face gently. 'Elrond, what is it? You look as if you've seen Gil-Galad himself standing in this very room.'

The dark-haired half-Elf looked into Glorfindel's face, as if he were searching for something.

'You haven't replaced me, have you, Glorfindel? Has another taken my place?'

Glorfindel stared at his lover for a moment, struck dumb by the sheer absurdity of the question. Then he clasped Elrond fiercely to him, kissing the top of the dark head and whispering into the thick hair.

'Of course not, Elrond! No one could ever replace you in my heart. You were not my first, it is true, but as far as I am concerned, from now until eternity you shall be my only. I love you Elrond, I don't know how else I can say it. Even those words seem like they are not enough.'

'Then show me. Please, Glorfindel...' The pleading tone in Elrond's voice threw the blond Elven-Lord over the edge, and he nodded. He relaxed his hold on his lover and peppered Elrond's face with kisses. The dark-haired Elf sighed in contentment, and drew Glorfindel's mouth to his own. The blond Elf felt the soft lips yield under his, and he brushed them gently with his tongue before seeking entrance to Elrond's mouth. It was granted willingly, and Glorfindel spent long moments savoring the taste of the other Elven-Lord, as he ran his tongue over teeth and soft flesh. Elrond brushed Glorfindel's tongue with his own, encouraging the other Elf, and the two twined their tongues over and around each other's, until they broke apart panting, the need for oxygen becoming prevalent.

'Mae govannen Glorfindel,' [1] Elrond mumbled softly, gently brushing his fingers over Glorfindel's cheekbones. 'Sí an karne nin kena? Min merne ten lle an...' [2]

'Aye, Elrond. If you wish it of me.'

Elrond nodded, and turned in Glorfindel's arms until he lay on his stomach. The blond Elf sighed longingly and bent over his lover, touching and kissing the pale skin that was presented to him. He ran the tips of his fingers over a familiar tattoo that covered part of Elrond's thigh, before running over one hip and ending with a delicate flourish in the small of the half-Elf's back; it was a mark of Elrond's rank and lineage. Glorfindel admired the contrast between the harsh black dye and the creamy skin that bordered it, and he traced the outline of the pattern with his finger. Elrond shivered and arched into Glorfindel's hand, and a soft whimper escaped him.

'Please, Glorfindel. I will beg you if I must.'

Glorfindel chuckled softly, stretching his arm out to dip his fingers into a pot of salve that sat on a table next to the bed. The compound smelt of the alfirin flower, a golden blossom that grew in the fields of Lebennin in the land of Gondor. Even its name betrayed the sadness of the Elves at the plant's short life, for it did not live long and often died without cause. It did, however, make an excellent addition to a healer's stock, and when blended with tallow, comfrey, and arnica, it made a healing salve unrivaled by any other. Glorfindel breathed on the salve to warm it, and bent to kiss Elrond's shoulders.

'You know that you need not beg me for what I will give freely,' he murmured as he spread the salve over his fingers. Glorfindel gently parted Elrond's buttocks, smearing the salve around the puckered opening before he slipped his fingers into the heat of Elrond's body. The salve served a duel purpose; in addition to acting as a lubricant, it would help heal any minor tears or bruises caused by over-stretching.

The dark-haired half-Elf gasped at the invasion, and then his body welcomed it. He pushed back onto Glorfindel's fingers, trying to trap more of them within his body. He spread his legs slightly when the fingers were removed, and he bucked upwards as Glorfindel positioned himself.

'Now,' he hissed, as he balanced on the paper-thin line between pleasure over how tender Glorfindel was being, and the searing pain of being denied. Elrond buried his face in a pillow to muffle a loud moan as his lover pushed into him, entering slowly until Elven skin touched Elven skin. The blond Elf rested there for a moment before he began to move, wrapping his arms around Elrond's body as he did so. One arm curled about the half-Elf's chest, pressing him to Glorfindel's body. The other hand traced its way down the sweat-slickened stomach and wrapped around Elrond's erection. Glorfindel stroked the heated flesh as he thrust into the pinioned body below him, showering Elrond's neck and shoulders with soft kisses. The Master of Imladris cried out softly as his lover's thrusts connected with his prostate, and he slipped a hand between his body and the sheets to enfold Glorfindel's. He moved the blond Elf's hand insistently, and Glorfindel sped up his pace in response.

Glorfindel groaned softly as he felt his muscles tense; it was happening too fast. He wanted it to be long and slow for Elrond's sake, to reassure the beautiful half-Elf that Glorfindel's heart still resided with him alone. But the feeling of the tight body around him was too much, and the blond Elf involuntarily began to thrust faster and harder, elicting louder cries from the one beneath him. Glorfindel tried to control himself, but then Elrond's muscles clamped around him and he was lost. He let himself go with a soft gasp, shaking as he apologized to his lover. To his surprise, Elrond followed soon after, muffling his cry with a pillow as he let himself go.

They lay together for several minutes before Glorfindel pulled away. He helped Elrond to roll back over, and proceeded to bathe the half-Elf's seed from their skin with his tongue. He delighted in the salty taste, and he shared it with Elrond in a deep kiss. The Master of Imladris sighed contentedly and pressed himself up against Glorfindel as he played idly with the Elf's long blond hair.

'Thank you, Glorfindel.'

Glorfindel smiled and kissed Elrond gently, pulling the blankets back over the two of them.

'You're welcome, Elrond. I'll always love you, never doubt that.'

Elrond smiled as he sank into his lover's arms. For the first time that day the tensions had been lessened, and the Master of Imladris allowed his eyes to fall shut.

'I shant.'

---

A callused hand brushed over his cheek, surprisingly tender in its motions. Legolas smiled as he leaned into the caress, and he captured the hand with his own. He kissed the fingers before he took them one by one into his mouth, bathing them with his tongue. The man under him moaned softly, and the blond Elf felt the other's erection pressing against his stomach.

'Legolas...'

The Elven Prince smirked and slid down the darker body, taking the hardened shaft into his mouth with practiced grace. The one beneath him gasped and arched into Legolas' mouth, and the Elf pinned the hips to the bed. He sucked forcefully, focusing his entire being on pleasuring his young lover. He felt corded muscles tensing under the dark skin, and then he felt the Man's seed flood his mouth, hot and slightly bitter. He swallowed it as it came into him, and then moved to kiss the trembling lips of the other. He nuzzled the short beard, marveling at the feeling of the rough stubble against his own smooth skin. He blinked in surprise as he felt the legs beneath him part, and he looked down into his lover's eyes.

'Estel...'

The human nodded, and he kissed Legolas again before he settled back on the soft bed. Undisguised longing burned in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse with need.

'Please, Legolas. I am yours and yours alone.'

---

Legolas awoke with a jolt, gasping into the still night air. His body was slickened with sweat, and the sheets clung to him uncomfortably. He cast them aside and rose, crossing to the large window that overlooked the river. The blond Elf let his forehead fall against the cool glass as he tried to sort out his dream. It made no sense; why should he dream of being with Estel? He had a husband who waited for him in Lórien, and here he was, fascinated by another. Legolas slapped himself mentally and returned to his bed; he would not dishonor Haldir by involving himself with Elrond's foster son.

Sleep did not come easily again to the Prince of Mirkwood, but when it did, he dreamed of fair skin and golden hair.

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To be continued...

[1]- 'Well met, Glorfindel.'
[2]- 'Now to make me see? I wish for you to...'