Always and Forever

Elrohir awoke early; his brother nestled in his arms. He smiled at the face, identical to his own in sleep, and ran a hand along the arm thrown across his chest.

After over a century of debate and almosts and second thoughts...last night he and Elladan had finally come together and consummated their love.

It had been amazing; the feel of his brother under him, while at the same time, in his mind feeling himself inside his brother, sharing both sides of their coupling, enjoying his brother’s enjoyment, knowing Elladan was doing the same...

But...Elrohir frowned, his hand stilling. Where was the binding? Both his mother and Glorfindel, even Ada when he was in his cups, spoke of that “magic moment when two souls, separated by Eru eons ago, found one another again and bound for all eternity.” Glorfindel wrote poetry about it, for Valar’s sake!

He slid out from under Elladan and from the bed and threw on his robe. Was...was this a sign? Was his love for his brother...wrong? They had finally become so certain, so sure they were meant only for each other...but their souls had not merged.

He paced across the bedroom and back, avoiding the string of discarded clothing. What...what if they had done it wrong? What.... “Ah!” He stopped and held the sides of his head. He needed to talk to someone. Someone before Elladan woke up and realized what had, or rather, had not happened. He could not bear to see that pain in his beloved twin’s eyes.

But who? He paused in reaching for his leggings. Who could he ask? He dressed slowly, quietly, not wanting to wake his exhausted lover. Tying his hair back in a simple ponytail he slipped out the balcony doors and into the garden.

As dawn stretched its fingers across the valley and the early mist covered everything in a coat of fine, pink tinged gray, Elrohir walked slowly through his mother’s roses, toes wet and his mind in turmoil. He could not ask his mother; she might cry. Worse yet, she might...give advice. There was very little in this world worse than listening to your mother giving you advice on sex. Unless it was your father, of course, Elrohir mused. So not him either. They had accepted his and Elladan’s choice, but what would their reaction be if they knew it...did not take?

He thought of other married couples he knew...he definitely could not talk to Glorfindel. The returned Elda, for all his poetry and ...and blushes around his mate, Erestor, was still rather intimidating. If he had not died to save Elrohir’s grandfather, none of them would even be there. How do you talk to an elf like that of sex?

Similarly he could not ask Erestor...though he was at the top of Elrohir’s list for all other advice. As Elrohir was his father’s eldest son and heir, he knew that Erestor was the real reason Imladris still stood, Vilya not withstanding. But the way Erestor blushed whenever Glorfindel read his romantic poetry in the Hall of Fire...this would not be a subject he would likely feel comfortable discussing even with his favorite student.

Who then? He stopped at the center fountain and sat on the edge, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

A soft noise a short while later caused him to look up. Lindir and his herven Legolas were visiting from Mirkwood. Apparently they had been out early hunting for their host’s table, for they each carried a brace of birds.

“El...rohir,” Lindir said noticing him as he moved. “What brings you out here so early? I would have thought you still abed after your feast last night!”

Elrohir smiled at his old friend and music teacher. “I...had some things to think about this morning.”

Lindir smiled back. “We will leave you in peace, then.” He and Legolas started to fade back into the morning mist.

“Wait!” Elrohir called out. “I...do you have a moment, Lindir? I could...use some advice.”

The bard exchanged a glance with his mate, then handed off his birds and bow. With a quick kiss Legolas continued on to the kitchens leaving Lindir behind to talk to Elrohir.

The silver haired ellon took a seat next to the nervous peredhel. “What is on your mind, Elrohir? Why are you out here and not still in bed with your new herven?”

“That is the problem,” Elrohir said quietly. “I am not sure he is.”

Lindir’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “Not sure.... I don’t understand. You two did...consummate your relationship last night did you not?”

“I thought we did...but,” he paused, “something went wrong.”

Lindir turned to face Elrohir, his leg up across the bench, his head tilted. “Is...is Elladan all right?”

“Yes. Nothing...went wrong physically,” Elrohir said, his hands making abortive descriptive movements as he spoke. “It went really well, actually. I mean, we both knew what to do and how to do it...we just...our souls did not bind!”

Lindir sat back, blinking. “Are you sure?”

Elrohir’s hands flitted about again. “I have heard the descriptions, the tales, stories, poetry...there was nothing like that last night!”

“Hm,” Lindir commented. He chewed on his thumb as he considered his friend’s dilemma.

“You are married. It is supposed to happen the first time you...you know, right?”

Lindir spread his hands and shrugged. “I am a bad person to ask, actually. Legolas and I skipped that part when we were married by Oromë’s emissary.” He hurried to continue, “Do not get me wrong, it is still amazing! Our souls are one...we feel each other, know one another’s thoughts...”

Elrohir snorted. “Elladan and I have always had that. Being married is supposed to be something special.”

Lindir looked at him for a long silent moment. “Elrohir,” he finally said. “To most elves that is special. Until my soul was bound with Legolas’s...we never experienced it.” He thumped Elrohir in the center of his forehead. “You silly fool. The reason you did not bind with Elladan last night...”

“Is because we have always been bound,” a deep voice said. Arms came around Elrohir and embraced him. “Is this why I woke alone this morning, my love?”

Lindir stood and walked away unnoticed by the twins as Elrohir twisted around to look his brother in the eyes. “I...I was afraid I had messed this up, Elladan,” he confessed.

“You always were the worrier,” Elladan said. He stroked the tendrils that had escaped Elrohir’s ponytail away from his brother’s face. “Always trying to protect me. But we are in this together...now more than ever, yes?”

Elrohir looked into his brother...his herven’s eyes, so like his own, and saw the truth. They had always been as one...one soul in two bodies. He leaned forward and touched Elladan’s forehead with his own. “Forgive me, my love?”

“Depends...” Elladan said with a smirk.

“On?”

His brother pulled him to his feet and into his arms. “On us going back to bed and making love again,” Elladan said.

Elrohir smiled. “My herven’s wish is my command.”

****

Elrohir did not know why people persisted in calling he and Elladan identical. Elladan’s eyes had more gold flecks in them, he was a good quarter of an inch taller than Elrohir and he had the cutest little freckle right below his left ear that drove Elrohir crazy.

Elladan moaned as Elrohir worried that spot, first with his tongue, then lips, then finally his teeth, leaving a mark on his new herven that would, even on a fast healing elf, linger for days.

It had taken very little time once back in their room for them to disrobe one another. Now Elrohir pressed his brother’s body deeper into the mattress as his hands stroked down Elladan’s sides then up the insides of his thighs.

As Elladan gasped and moaned, he moved his mouth to the base of his twin’s throat and, twisting to the side to give himself access, two of his fingers delved into Elladan’s still slick back passage.

“Oh!” Elladan’s hands gripped Elrohir’s shoulders and his hips rose off the bed. Elrohir pressed him back down and stroked his fingers against his lover’s sweet spot again.

“El...rohir,” panted Elladan, “please!”

Elrohir rolled away for a brief moment to retrieve the container of healing cream left for them the night before with a brief note to, ‘use before, during and after for best results’ in Erestor’s handwriting...one of the best gifts they had received. Kneeling back between his brother’s legs, he slicked himself quickly, not wanting to come undone at his own hand looking down at what was his wet dream for most of his life.

Elladan was naked, aroused and laying before him with his legs up and apart, love bites on his neck and chest, his lips kiss-swollen and his eyes shining with love. Elladan’s hands rose to grip his waist as he leaned over and kissed him again.

“I love you so much,” Elrohir said.

“I love you too,” Elladan said. “Now take me!”

Elrohir smiled and whispered, “Bossy,” in his younger brother’s ear as he guided himself to Elladan’s opening. He slowly slid in despite the insistent fingers digging into his hips trying to pull him faster.

“More,” pleaded Elladan.

He kept his thrusts shallow at first, reveling in the tight heat that gripped him. But as the fire pooled low in his belly and his brother’s moans became his own and he could feel each thrust as though he were the one receiving it, he sped up.

Elladan’s gasps in his ear were more beautiful than anything he had heard from Lindir. They clumsily kissed; the rising rhythm and increasing power of each stroke breaking them apart before bringing them together again.

As they approached the precipice of shared orgasmic bliss, their minds as entwined as their bodies, Elrohir could only spare one thought: How could he not have seen this truth?

My brother, my lover, my husband, my soul-mate...

Always. Forever.