Remedy

Title: Remedy
Type: LOTR-FPS
Author: Pickle Pixie (woopicklewoo@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Elrohir/Legolas
WARNING: M/M Slash. PWP-ish: smut for smut’s sake.
Disclaimer: I made it all up. All the naughty elves contained herein are the creations of JRR Tolkien, God bless ‘im. I promise to do them no permanent harm, nor will I make any money off them.
Feedback: It’s the elf under my duvet, the hobbit in my hot tub. Just be gentle, it’s my first time! ;-)
Archiving: If you want it, let me know!
Beta: Minuial Nuwing, you’re a **star**!
Timeline: Imladris, Third Age, Pre-Ring War.
A/N: Inspired by Minuial’s ‘Princes Three’ series. I kind of like the idea of Legolas as honey on a cinnamon bun!
Summary/Notes: A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.


*~*~*

He should have known better.

He was renowned as a great healer and lore-master. He was brother to the first Númenorean King, Herald to Gil-galad and bearer of Vilya, the mightiest of the Three. There were even some who believed him omniscient, so vast was the depth of his knowledge. Yet he could not even fathom his own son.

He simply did not understand. Why in Elbereth’s name would one wish to endure pain when a simple tea would soothe the ache and relax the mind into peaceful reverie? Why did his mule-headed son refuse the remedy he was offered? The obdurate nature of the young never ceased to amaze the Imladrin Lord.

“Elrohir, ion-nin. Saes. Drink the tea. ‘Tis scarcely even a mouthful. It pains me to think of you enduring any discomfort. If you do not heed my advice I fear that neither of us shall find any rest tonight. Would you not reconsider?”

The elf-knight resisted the powerful urge to roll his eyes. Why did his father insist on asking futile questions? Every instance of injury to any of his progeny, however trivial, immediately heralded the immediate arrival of a steaming cup of his ‘healing’ tea. Each time Elrond urged him to drink it, and each time he would pointedly refuse.

On this occasion, Elrohir had sustained a flesh wound to his left calf in a minor skirmish with a band of brigands who had strayed too close to the Ford of Bruinen. Glorfindel had led the campaign with the very same steadfast authority that had garnered the notoriously difficult to impress elf-knight’s reverent loyalty. Such had been the skill of the seneschal’s leadership that only Elrohir had been wounded severely enough to warrant any treatment during the tussle.

It was Elrohir’s most fervent wish to retire to his chambers, draw a long, hot bath, and nurse his wounded pride in solitude. Yet here he was, refusing the offer of a wretched herbal tea he had not consumed since his majority, for what felt like the thousandth time that hour. If Elrond were not his father, he would quite happily have tipped the entire brew down the healer’s throat, beaker and all.

“Adar, in Eru’s name, please stop this incessant nagging! Surely by now you have realized I will not drink that infernal concoction! It smells like orc-breath and tastes twice as foul. I do believe that not even a dwarf could palate it. pleaplease, leave me in peace!”

Elrond’s eyebrow vaulted toward the heavens in response to his youngest son’s outburst. The twin was known among the younger soldiers of the valley as often being abrupt, even cold at times in demands for the highest standards. This of course stemmed from his determination to protect his home and his people, especially those very soldiers with whom he fought. Yet towards his family he was never less than a loving son and tender brother. This hostility was not something the Peredhel Lord was accustomed to.

“Very well. If you insist on suffering in silence then you have my leave to return to your chambers and wallow in your misery.”

Elrohir took only enough time to look suitably embarrassed by his harsh treatment of his father before turning and making his way slowly from the healing halls, pointedly refusing to limp.

Elrond sighed deeply as he watched his son’s departure. He knew that the twin’s ire was not directed at him, but rather his own failing. As son of the hidden vale’s Lord, he took it upon himself to set an example to others, even more so than Elladan, despite the older twin’s tendency to assume the role of the elder bother.

While this was one of Elrohir’s greatest strengths, it could also be his greatest flaw. His perceived failures were few and far between, and the younger twin was notoriously light hearted among those who knew him well. But on the rare occasion he believed himself to have been a disappointment, a dark cloud would descend upon his mood, and would inevitably swell to encompass the entire valley.

“Hir-nin? Have you already released Elrohir from your care?”

Elrond turned from his musings to find Legolas hovering in the archway through which he had just watched his middle-child depart. He smiled at the woodland prince and bade him enter. He set about clearing away the soiled field dressing he had removed from Elrohir’s leg a ans answered.

“He is currently staggering back to his chambers. It surprises me that you did not encounter hn yon your way here.”

“Staggering, hir-nin?”

“Aye. He refused to remain here, in addition to rejecting my offer of a healing tea to dull the pain and afford him a peaceful night’s rest. I should have known better than to even suggest it. My son possesses a charming demeanour, but when this stubborn haze takes him in its grasp I fear he would try even Námo’s patience.”

Legolas could not prevent the chuckle that fled his lips, despite the exasperated expression on his host’s face. “If this tea you are referring to is the same one that Elladan once forced upon me, then I am not surprised! It smells like orc breath and…”

“…tastes twice as bad. Aye, I have been informed. This temper is not like him. I do not relish the thought of these coming few days while he is unable to move around as he would like. At least the tea would speed the healing process.” The healer pinched the bridge of his nose and let out yet another sigh of exhaustion.

Legolas arched a quizzical eyebrow. “You believe that this remedy woulprovprove our elf-knight’s mood?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then let us see of I cannot, persuade him, in some way. I have ever had his ear in matters of importance. Mayhap he will heed my advice.”

“I would be forever in your debt, ernil-nin. Now, have you seen Elladan? I hear he took a blow to the head.”

His mind firmly on other things, Legolas almost did not hear the question. “Indeed I did, hir-nin. He is well. He is in the stables seeing to Elrohir’s horse. If you will excuse I wiI will set myself about my task. Is this the tea?” Legolas picked up the now cooling cup on the table before him.

“Aye Legolas. You have my thanks. Though I do not envy you the task. Prepare yourself for a sound tongue lashing, pen-neth.” With a sympathetic smile the Imladrin Lord departed to seek out his first born.

With a wicked smile upon his lips, the golden prince set off for the younger twin’s all too familiar chambers, eagerly anticipating the opportunity for a sound tongue lashing.

*~*~*

Elrohir leaned back in the spacious bathtub in the private bathing chamber adjoining his and his brother’s quarters. He hooked his left leg over the rim to keep his wound dry and breathed deeply of the scent that rose from the steaming water. He felt his skin pinking from the heat and allowed the tension to ease from his shoulders. His eyes lazily followed the shadows cast upon the walls in the flickering candlelight.

He thought on the conversation he had just had with his father. The young elf knew he should not have been so callous in his words, but he found he could not help himself. He was furious with himself for his carelessness. When he saw his brother struck by that orc club, the twin had felt a bloodlust grip him the likes of which he had not felt since he and Elladan had rescued their mother. Seeing the one he cherished above even his adored naneth threatened by Morgoth’s spawn had re-awoken a hatred and rage he previously believed had dwindled to a fervent disdain.

Resolving to explain his egregious behur tur to his sire on the morrow, the young Peredhel allowed his eyes to flutter closed. He did not stir when he heard the slapping of bare feet on the flagstone floor of the bathing chamber, nor when he heard what sounded like clothing being dropped to the floor.

It was the unmistakable sound of another body climbing into the water with him that finally made his eyes open in curiosity. Yet the eyes that met his were not the reflection of silver-grey he had been expecting, but a deep azure gaze. A distinctly lust-darkened azure gaze, at that.

“Legolas! I thought you had returned to Mirkwood!” Elrohir asked in some amazement, pointedly refusing to ask the obvious question of what the golden haired archer was doing in his bathtub as naked as the day of his birth.

“I had meant to, but we met with two of your party’s scouts ere we left the gates. I intended to offer my services, yet we were not needed after all. I also wished to assure myself of your safety. I see you have returned whole, at least for the most part.”

Legolas lowered his eyes to Elrohir’s leg. “The wound looks angry, melethron. Will you take nothing to relieve the sting?” He brought his lips down to place a lightly tongued kiss against the bruised flesh.

Elrohir looked away from the prince’s penetrating gaze. “Nay. I deserve to endure the pain I have carelessly inflicted upon myself.”

“Carelessly? ‘Tis not what I have heard,” Legolas purred as he lazily began to trail butterfly kisses up the inside of the warrior’s thigh. “I was told that you fought with such skill and ferocity that you slew half the enemy force single-handed.”

By now the prince had reached the top of Elrohir’s thigh. Pointedly ignoring the elf knight’s stirring flesh, he ran his tongue up the sensitive valley where leg met body and turned his attention to his lover’s taut stomach. “ I have heard that even after you were wounded, in the valorous defence of your brother, you continued to fight with spirit and courage.”

Legolas raised his head to gaze into the Telperion-hued eyes, rapidly darkening to the colour of evening. The archer pulled himself up to lick along the rim of one delicately tipped ear. “Surely such an act of bravery deserves the reward of a peaceful night’s rest,” he breathed.

“You are my reward.” Elrohir could not prevent the hitch in his voice as he spoke.

“Aye, and I would have you feel naught but pleasure.” Legolas brushed his lips against the others as he reached behind him. Elrohir’s eyes widened at the sight of a disturbingly familiar cup in his lover’s hands. “Drink the tea, melethron.”

“It tastes vile.”

“Then perhaps I can ease it‘s passing?”

Legolas leaned forward and ran his tongue along slightly parted lips. Elrohir briefly considered the beseeching expression on the others face, before bringing his hands up and burying them in his prince’s sunlit tresses. His lips twitched in amusement.

“Aye, I believe a taste of honey would make it all the sweeter.”

Legolas lifted the cup and Elrohir parhis his lips obediently. His brow creased in confusion when Legolas did not pour the liquid into his mouth, but drained it into his own. He barely had time to notice the wrinkled nose of his lover before his mouth was plundered and the vile brew forced into down his throat by a fantastically insistent tongue.

Elrohir barely noticed as he swallowed the tea, intent on devoting his attention to Legolas’ unrelenting exploration of his mouth. The kiss had barely begun before Legolas pulled away.

“Come, melethron. I would enjoy the fruits of my labours before that tea takes hold.”

Legolas rose swiftly and aided Elrohir from the bathtub. The half-elf stumbled slightly as he placed weight on his left leg. Before he could protest, Legolas swept Elrohir into his arms and bore him to the bed. Settling him gently on the rich furs, the prinid nid not even waste time in toweling himself dry before crawling up the length of the elf knight.

Straddling the other’s waist, Legolas leaned down to take a hardened nipple in his mouth, tugging at first before easing the sting with his tongue. Elrohir gasped and arched his back, desperate to find some friction for his ever more hardening length. Shuddering, he reached towards the nightstand to retrieve a vial of oil, even as Legolas peppered kisses across the plain of his chest to pay the same glorious attention to his other nipple.

Hands skimmed over bronze and ivory skin as the two warriors strained against each other. Elrohir nuzzled the shower of golden locks falling about him.

“Saes,” he breathed.

Elrohir could feel the languid tendrils of the tea’s effects beginning to trail their way towards him. Expecting his concentration to falter, he was pleasantly surprised when his senses were numbed only to the world around him. The sensations wreaked upon his body by the Sindar prince, however, were deliciously heightened.

Sensing his lover’s urgency, Legolas’ lips wove a path down the shallow valley of the other’s sculpted abdomen, feeling the muscles beneath bronzed skin tremble in approval. He halted his progress only to dip his tongue into the elf-knights navel.

Elrohir ground his hips upward in appreciation. Legolas glanced up to meet his lover’s eyes. Elrohir’s sweat slicked skin glistened in the candle light, and Legolas felt his own member throb at the sight.

Almost snatching the oil from Elrohir’s grasp, he pulled the out stopper with his teeth and emptied the remainder of the bottle into his palm. Slicking his own turgid column, he lowered his tongue to swirl across the top of his lover’s weeping member, before swallowing it to the root.

Elrohir’s blissful howl spurred the archer on, and Legolas urged the warrior’s knees up as he reached to press an oiled finger against the other’s opening. Pushing into the velvet heat, Legolas added a second finger, then a third, scissoring them to search for the sweet spot that would send Elrohir spiralling into ecstasy.

Being simultaneously filled and suckled, Elrohir could feel his release mounting.

“Boe-lle,” he gasped. “Saes!”

Heeding the elf-knight’s need, Legolas raised himself on his elbows and placed a musky kiss on Elrohir’s trembling lips.

“Turn onto your right side, melethron, I would not cause you pain.”

Obediently shifting onto his side, Elrohir instantly felt Legolas’ bow-sculpted arm snake between his legs to scissor them, always supporting his left leg. The elf-knight did not have time to wonder at his lover’s considera of of his needs even in the height of their passion before he felt teeth sink gently into his shoulder. Arching his neck to give the other better access, he felt the lips leave his skin and the sweetest words were whispered huskily into his ear.

“Amin mela lle.”

“Hurry!”

Legolas did not hesitate and filled him in one sure, swift thrust. Agonizing rapture ripped through the archer’s body as he felt the strong muscles of his warrior lord clamp down around him. The air was filled with lust-driven gasps as Legolas set a frenzied rhythm, rocking his hips back and driving forward relentlessly. He nipped haphazardly at Elrohir’s shoulder, leaving tell-tale red marks against the flawless skin.

Elrohir ground his hips back frantically, his grip leaving the furs below them to clutch at Legolas’ arm to direct it from his thigh to the needful erection bobbing against his stomach. Needing no further encouragement, Legolas took Elrohir’s erection in hand and began to stroke his lover to completion.

Completion found them almost as one, Elrohir spilling his release into the archer’s hand moments before he felt the liquid heat of Legolas’ essence filling him. Floating in a blissful haze, he barely noticed as he was gathered into a gentle embrace and a lingering kiss was bestowed upon his sinuous lips.

“Sleep meleth. Amin mela lle.”

“Amin mela lle…”

Legolas smiled serenely as he watched his lover slip into the balming arms of healing sleep. Brushing a kiss against Elrohir’s temple, he reclined on the silken pillows to watch his elf-knight dream.

*~*~*

It was not long after the elf-knight had slipped into a much anticipated reverie that Elladan entered his twin’s chambers. He watched quietly for a spell as the wood-elf currently pressed against his brother lovingly caressed the sex-mussed sable mane fanned across the pillows.

“Adar said that Elrohir would not take his medicine. He should have known better than to try and persuade him otherwise.” Elladan slowly made his way over to the dishevelled bed and perched on tdge dge near the prince.

“Aye, he should have. He should also have known that Elrohir can deny me nothing.” An undeniably tender expression graced Legolas’ features, his face still slightly flushed from his earlier exertions.

“So it seems. He detests that tea with a passion. It would take a greater passion still to convince him to drink the brew. I, however, am not so stubborn. I think, given the right incentive, I would not find it such a hardship.”

Legolas turned his gaze from the younger twin to the elf now reclining on his elbows before him. His eyes lighted on the ugly looking bruise blossoming on Elladan’s temple. A wry smile appeared on his face.

“Are you in pain, meleth-nin?” Legolas queried, gently disengaging himself from the elf-knight’s embrace and crawling towards the older twin.

“Aye, a little,” Elladan smirked. The smile turned predatory when the blonde archer deposited himself firmly in his lap. Bringing one hand up to snake around to the nape of the twin’s neck, Legolas pulled their foreheads together gently.

“I believe I have something for that.”


The End.


Elvish:

ion-nin: my son

saes: please

Adar: father

hir-nin: my lord

ernil-nin: my prince

pen-neth: young one

Naneth: mother

melethron: lover

meleth-nin: my love

Boe-lle: need you

Amin mela lle: I love you