Worth A Try

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I promise to give them back as soon as the story is over.


A/N: While I was writing the "If You Go Away" fic, one of my friends asked for 'the true story' of what transpired between Gildor and the twins during the years of their wanderings together. :) So here it is.


Worth A Try.


They were lying in bed, propped on their elbows, mirror images of each other, and staring into each other’s eyes over the body of their slumbering companion.

‘I am afraid he is fading, Ro. Look at him: he is but a shadow of his former self.’

Elrohir sighed. He did not have to look… He knew what his brother was talking about. The illusion of strength and inner peace, which Gildor managed to maintain during the day, slipped off like a mask at night. There was something brittle and hollow about the way he looked in his sleep.

‘But what can we do, El?’

‘Perhaps we should offer him comfort.’

The younger twin shook his head doubtfully. ‘He will not accept it.’

‘You cannot know that for sure, Ro: we have never actually offered it.’

‘Well… You can always try, of course.’

‘*We* can try, tôren,’ Elladan corrected meaningfully.

For a long moment Elrohir was silent, fighting the temptation, but finally he gave in.

‘*We* can try.’


Gildor woke up at the first touch but remained absolutely still and relaxed, his breath even, his eyes deceptively unfocused. Ah, so it had come to this after all… He felt neither shocked nor angry for he knew that it was not base lust that was driving the twins. Should his life have turned out differently, he could have even welcomed their advances: the twins were more than passing fair and their prowess in amour activities was almost as notorious as his own. But with the current state of affairs… The twins had only one flaw, but that flaw did not leave them any chance with him: they were not Haldir.

Gildor’s mind and body resisted anyone else’s touch; his mind by actively rebelling and his body by remaining absolutely passive. But Gildor realized that words – no matter how eloquent - would not be enough to get this sad notion through to the twins: they were too worried for him and too determined to help him in *any* way possible. Very well, he would have to give them a demonstration then…


Elladan started a little when he suddenly found Gildor looking at him with sharp clear eyes, not even a hint of drowsiness in them. His hand froze where it was stroking Gildor’s chest. The next moment Gildor gripped Elladan’s wrist and pinned it to the bed above his head as he swiftly rolled on top of the elder twin. Not giving Elladan a chance to collect his thoughts, he fisted his dark hair in his other hand and caught Elladan’s mouth in a plundering punishing kiss.

Elladan heard his twin gasp at the abruptness of Gildor’s movement - and then he was unable to hear anything else over the pounding of his own heart in his ears. This was not the first kiss Gildor had ever given him but those were friendly, teasing or soothing kisses. This one was none of that. This was neither a friend, nor a tutor, nor even a shield-mate kissing him. Was this how Gildor’s lovers saw and felt him, Elladan wondered dazedly? This was the Gildor Elladan was unacquainted with but had always been curious about and had lusted after in his adolescent years. He tried to free his hand from Gildor’s grasp to be able to touch him, but Gildor growled low in his throat and Elladan grew quiescent again, suddenly feeling very young and smitten, as if of old. Gildor’s fierce kiss took all the wish to resist out of him, while Gildor’s sure, efficient touch filled Elladan with burning longing; longing and desire to mould under Gildor’s hands into any form the Vanya wished.

Gildor felt Elrohir’s palms slide up and down his bare back but at the moment allowed the younger twin to touch him while he drew out the kiss, drinking away the remnants of Elladan’s will power along with the dregs of the air from his lungs. By the time Gildor finally released his lips Elladan was nearly unconscious. He gulped a huge hungry swallow of air, the world around him a blur of colours. When he felt Gildor tug at his hair, he tilted his head obediently, giving the Vanya better access to his throat. Gildor latched his mouth onto Elladan’s skin, noting in a detached manner how warm and soft it was and how arousingly fast Elladan’s pulse was beating under his lips. But regardless of that, he was not aroused, his body remaining indifferent to the alluring beauty of the young elf writhing under him.

Elladan gave a shuddering moan as a vibrant suck mark developed on the pale skin of his throat, and Gildor enjoyed the heady sound in spite of himself. He did not slow the pace of his attack, moving purposefully down Elladan’s body. He was aware what effect his touch was having on the elder twin - his erstwhile lovers had many a time praised it or jokingly complained of it. And now he was using it the way he used his swordsman’s skills in sparring matches with the twins: dispassionately, unerringly and to good advantage. Elrohir’s hands were stroking his sides now, trailing over the hollow beneath his ribs, shifting the fabric of his sleeping pants down over his hips, but Gildor ignored the younger twin for the time being, concentrating on bringing Elladan to the desired state.

Elrohir watched in awe and fascination as his brother was swiftly coming undone under Gildor’s expert ministrations. Elladan yielded rarely but when he did, he yielded completely, holding nothing back. Elrohir found the sight absolutely intoxicating. His twin’s low moans, his flushed skin and the scent of his desire spoke directly to Elrohir’s groin. As Gildor sat up to divest Elladan of his trousers, Elrohir quickly shucked off his own sleeping garment and crawled forward a little to be able to get a better look. His hand slid down to stroke himself as he watched Gildor fondle and caress his brother. Elladan in the throes of passion was the most striking thing he had seen, ever. A vague chime sounded in Elrohir’s mind: it was not supposed to be about the two of them, was it? But the next moment Elladan gasped in rapture and Elrohir forgot about everything else but his beautiful twin and his own need.

Gildor nipped at the elder twin’s ear, earning another gasping intake of breath from him, and then took a handful of his hair and pulled, making him turn his head.

“Look at him, El,” he ordered. “Look at your brother. Why would you want anyone else when you own such a treasure? Is he not everything you could ask for in a lover?”

Elladan blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision. His and Elrohir’s eyes locked for a moment, exchanging a silent ‘love you’. Then Elladan’s gaze shifted lower to where Elrohir’s hand continued sliding languidly up and down his length and remained riveted to the sight. His own arousal twitched against his stomach, demanding attention, and Elladan curled his fingers around it, sighing blissfully at the sensation. But the next moment his hand was pried away unceremoniously. He growled in protest but Gildor ignored the sound of his displeasure. He reached out, caught Elrohir by the arm and pulled him close to his brother.

“Kiss him!” he commanded.

Elrohir did not have to be asked twice. He threaded his fingers through his twin’s thick mane, holding his head in place, and attacked Elladan’s lips with the avid hunger of someone dying of starvation. Both of them moaned at the familiar intoxicating taste of the kiss. Gildor watched them for a long moment, fighting the pangs of envy and the painful awareness of his own loss. But then he shook himself out of the stupor and returned to his current purpose.

Elladan cried out loud, tearing his lips away from his brother’s when he was suddenly engulfed in the wet heat of Gildor’s mouth. Gildor slapped Elrohir’s flank, ordering him to keep Elladan occupied, and the younger twin obeyed, pulling his brother back into another ardent kiss. Between their skilled mouths Elladan soon lost all sense of time and space, reduced to a primitive being of need and lust. He was rocked by the waves of intense pleasure that were bringing him higher and higher to the peak of blissful climax. When he was suddenly halted on the very brink of it, he could not at first understand what had happened.

Surfacing reluctantly out of the dark vortex of passion, he realized that for some reason he was no longer getting the delicious stimulation and that actually he was bereft of any contact at all. He waited for his vision to focus and when it did, he saw his brother kneeling in front of him, Elrohir’s knees almost touching his feet. Gildor was embracing Elrohir from behind, tracing the contour of his broad shoulder with his lips. Elladan shifted, unwilling to be left out, and only then noticed that his hands were bound to the headboard with something that very much resembled the cord of his own sleeping pants. Who had done it and when – he had no idea.

Helplessly, Elladan watched Gildor play with his brother, pressing here, stroking there, finding out what made the most breathless gasps or the most plaintive whimpers. Elladan was well acquainted with this game and enjoyed it too – Elrohir was very sensitive and responsive, a real pleasure to tease. And now he saw his twin rapidly nearing the limits of his endurance under Gildor’s unnervingly skilful touch. Elrohir was breathing in quick urgent pants, his usually pale skin was flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat and his eyes - when he managed to open them - were so dilated that the black almost obscured the gray. Elladan jerked at his restraints unconsciously, the sight of Elrohir in his impassioned state never failing to produce a most stimulating effect on him.

Gildor went on caressing Elrohir’s body at will, his hands teasingly trailing across his peaked nipples, tracing the well defined muscles of his stomach, stroking the soft flesh above his hips, sliding lower, lower… Elrohir rocked his hips, desperate for the contact that would relieve the tension in his loins, which was already verging on discomfort. But Gildor ignored his silent plea and instead gently raked Elrohir’s thighs with his nails. The younger twin gave a little whimper of frustration and caught Gildor by the wrist, pulling his hand to where he so badly wanted it.

“Stop,” Gildor ordered, his voice though soft bore a hint of threat. “Or do you want me to bind you as well?”

Elrohir’s eyes darted up to Elladan’s straining wrists. He gave a shuddering sigh and dropped his head, capitulating. Gildor stroked his sagged shoulders and ran his hands up and down his arms.

“Do you want to feel me inside you?” he whispered into Elrohir’s ear.

“Yes,” the younger twin moaned, pressing his buttocks against Gildor’s groin. “Oh please… ”

Gildor heard just as desperate a moan from Elladan’s part of the bed and looked up.

“I hope you are enjoying it, pen neth,” he murmured darkly. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Elladan bit his lip and kept silent. He *was* enjoying it, though in a different way than he had expected; a different, rather frustrating and somewhat twisted way.

Unable to remain still, Elrohir rubbed himself against Gildor. The chime of alarm sounded in his clouded mind again; he had an uncomfortable feeling that something was wrong. But the next moment Gildor brushed his knuckles over his painfully hard flesh and all his troubled thoughts instantly burnt in a bright flare of acute sensation.

“Hand me the oil,” he heard Gildor saying. “You have it ready, don’t you?”

Still gasping, Elrohir reached out under one on the pillows, took out a jar of salve and passed it to Gildor. He remained on all fours, shivering a little in anticipation. Gildor’s slick fingers glided over the small of Elrohir’s back, slid down along the cleft of his rump, teasingly brushing over his opening, and stroked the sensitive patch of skin behind his sack. Elrohir gave a throaty moan and spread his legs wider in a blatant invitation. Gildor chuckled. His fingers entered the young elf’s body, curled and found his pleasure spot. Elrohir cried out, arching his spine and pushing back onto Gildor’s fingers. Harder, he wanted it harder! The gentle touch did nothing to appease his ravenous hunger.

The roaring of Elladan’s blood in his ears was as deafening as the Rauros waterfalls. The sight of his twin’s abandon was too powerful a stimulant for Elladan to resist. He was aching, oh how he was aching! He twisted and strained his wrists, struggling against his bonds but they held. He groaned in vexation and knocked the back of his head against the headboard, once, twice.

Elrohir was driven to frustration: Gildor was drawing out the foreplay cruelly, turning pleasure into torture. Valar, he could not take it any longer! And suddenly in a flash of enlightenment he realized what had troubled him earlier. When he pressed himself against Gildor, there was no hardness where that hardness should have been: Gildor was not aroused, he did not want them! Everything he was doing now was nothing else but punishment for their presumption and their brazenness.

“Gods, oh gods,” Elrohir sobbed. He knew he was going to die a slow and torturous death by unsatisfied desire. He buried his head in his folded arms, the silken tendrils of his hair spilling over Elladan’s ankles, his body still riding Gildor’s fingers in the blind search of release.

Elrohir’s distress was coming off him in almost tangible waves and Elladan could take it no more.

“End it!” he pleaded. “For pity’s sake, Gildor!”

Gildor looked at the elder twin, taking in his bitten lips, his sweat glistering body, his copiously leaking erection.

“No,” he said quietly. “*You* end it, pen neth.”

He sat back on his heels and slapped Elrohir’s backside slightly. It took Elrohir a moment to realize what Gildor meant but then he quickly crawled into his brother’s lap and impaled himself on his turgid length. They cried out at the intense, blinding sensation that spiked through their bodies. Elrohir instantly started a rocking motion, riding his twin hard and fast, both of them too strained and too aching for it to be anything but rough and animalistic. It could not last long and soon Elrohir cried out his climax, his back arched, his head tilted back, his throat bared in rapture. Elladan followed close after, the world around him exploding in a burst of colour and light. He pressed his head back against the headboard, gasping as the waves of ecstasy surged through his shaking form. He felt rather than heard Elrohir moan softly against his throat.

“Oh my,” Elladan murmured when objects around him started to obtain solid shapes again. “That was… ” He searched for an appropriate word to describe the whole gamut of his sensations, failed and shook his head. “I do not remember when it was last that urgent and deliciously primitive.”

Elrohir smiled his agreement against Elladan’s damp skin. Then he raised his head and looked his brother in the face.

“I love you so much, El,” he said softly, stroking Elladan’s cheek affectionately.

Elladan made to embrace him and realized that his arms were still bound.

“Valar, I do not feel my hands,” he complained.

Elrohir reached up and undid the cord. Elladan brought his aching arms down, moaning and cursing. His brother rubbed his chafed wrists to restore blood circulation but suddenly he remembered how it all had started and looked over his shoulder. Gildor was nowhere to be seen.

“He is gone, Ro,” Elladan said. “Do you think we have made things worse?”
Elrohir sighed and shrugged. “I really cannot say… I told you he does not want anyone but his Galadhel. Now you know it for sure.”

“*We* know, tôren,” Elladan corrected, pulling him close.

“*We* know,” Elrohir agreed with a sigh, melting into his brother’s arms.


I hope you've enjoyed it. :)