Brother mine

Brother mine

Author: Casualis

Email: Casualis2000@yahoo.fr

Pairings: Elladan/Elrohir

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Incest, no happy ending

Dedicated to Haz. I read her story and I heard a song: here is the
result.

Many thanks to Joey for beta reading the story.

*

"There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and
stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the
heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?"

George Borrow, Lavengro, Ch. 25


*


The bedroom was quiet, as was the whole house at this hour of the
night. No sound could be heard, save for the bewitching chant of
cicadas in the high trees surrounding the manor, singing their joy
in the enveloping torpor of the soft summer night. The night sky was
clear and, upon the velvety black fabric of the heavenly arch,
numberless sparkling stars made a golden case for Ithil's silvery
beauty.

This year, summer was unusually hot, the heat overwhelming, slowing
life and nature, and stroking with its long burning fingers those
who had been brave enough to challenge that natural inferno. The
earth was burnt and the trees were thirsty, their dry and yellowed
leaves providing little cover to the weary animals resting upon the
dusty ground. The level of the water of the Anduin was lower than
any was able to remember; the once white and polished smooth stones,
which had become greenish because of invasive weeds soiling the pure
liquid, were apparent from the bankflecflecting Anar's beams in the
cool still water.

The night was well advanced. The sun had disappeared some hours ago
and, with its disappearance, the landscape had changed. If during
the day, drought was there, silencing the vale, at night, life was
reawakened, elves and animals benefiting from the light breeze
gracing the air.

But, this night, the elves were sleeping, leaving the place to the
animals, to the songs of nature and to the memories of the past. The
whole vale seemed sound asleep, save for the lonely figure in the
bedroom. No illumination escaped from within the room, but Ithil's
light was seeped into the room through the large open windows,
barely restrained by the silk sheer curtains hanging from the wooded
frame, giving the room the aspect of a sweet cocoon, rocking with
her invisible long arms the frame of the awake elf.

The silvery light accentuated the contrast between the elf's
alabaster skin and the long dark hair that framed his well drawn
face. His angular cheekbones enhanced the noble and delicate line of
his nose. His pale skin seemed to be opalescent, glowing in the semi
darkness, and his usually gray eyes looked like two bottomless
shadowy oceans.

Nothing moved in the lightless room, save the slight rising of the
sheer curtain according to the will of the flickering breeze. The
Firstborn was sitting on the edge of the large bed, his body tense
and still, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the night sky, on
the shining promise of Eärendil, oblivious to the whole world around
him.

People used to say that while Eärendil was shining upon Arda, there
was still hope to cling to. But the lonely ebony-haired elf was far
from agreeing with those popular beliefs. Because, in that clear
night where no cloud could be seen, where Eärendhil was brighter
than ever, hope had deserted his heart, leaving it to a mournful
melancholy, leaving it to the shadows of his tortured mind.

Some days were full of joy for some people and full of sadness for
others. And tonight, while the whole vale was sleg, wg, waiting for
the morrow's joyous ceremony, filled with cheerful impatience, he
was sitting in silence in his room, his heart full of sorrow and on
the edge of breaking. The previous day had been one of the longest
in his already long life, as he pretended to share the common
eagerness. Claiming to be someone he was not. That day had been
torture and held nothing that resembled hope and expectation.

Everything was ready. Tables were set, flowers were gathered,
finest robes had been designed for the event, and the brightest gems
were ready to sparkle in the candlelight. The great hall had been
prepared and decorated. The best minstrels of the vale had been
bidden to play during the feast that would follow the ceremony. Old
and savory wine had been decanted from oaken barrels where they had
slept for years, if not centuries, into delicately cut crystal
carafes. Cooks had worked for more than a week to prepare a great
banquet, where exotic plates would blend with traditional dishes.
The whole week had been spent in joyous excitation and impatience
for the feast that was to come. Everyone was happy.

Everyone was happy, but he. He dreaded nothing more than that
expected ceremony. Because tomorrow his lover would take his vows
and it was not to him that he would give his promise of eternal love.

It was not to him… A world of sorrow and pain would be heard if
those words were to be uttered. It was not to him… And his heart
cried invisible tears of suffering…

He knew that he was not the only one who suffered, that his lover
was also feeling that emotion of helplessness and finality. But
strangely, it did not comfort him.

Since the beginning, they had known that day would come and, with
it, the end of their love. They had been well aware that the bond
they shared was not meant to last, as it had not even been meant to
exist. They had known it, yet, it still hurt. He had not believed it
would hurt so much. They had known of the nearing of that fateful
day and had contemplated with disdain and carelessness at first,
then with more and more despair and denial.

They had known, since the first step they had made upon their path,
that what they shared would only lead them to the pain of
separation. But they had never left that path. They had never wanted
to. For centuries, they had walked upon it, hand in hand. For
centuries, they had protected their secret, protected each other
from the others' gazes. But what had lasted for centuries would come
to an end on the morrow.

All they had shared through the long years would be extinguished by
the mighty and unmerciful tide of duty and honor. The fire of their
passion and their secret submerged and drowned under the passing of
time and the forgetfulness of memory.

Tomorrow would be the day of the death of his heart.

But for the moment, he would wait for the end of the night and watch
thsingsing of the sun. He would watch cautiously as the shy rays of
light would chase the darkness away. He would observe how Ithil's
beauty would pale and die when the golden magnificence of Anar would
finally emerge. He would look upon the end of the night, which would
mean the last breath of their shadowy love.

Slowly, someone turned the doorknob and the heavy wooden door opened
noiselessly on its well-oiled hinges. A silent shadow sneaked into
the dimness of the room and closed the door behind itself. The elf
on the bed did not move, neither did he give any sign he was aware
of the other's presence. For some seconds, time seemed to have
stopped, as neither of them stirred. Finally, the nocturnal visitor
without a word approached the bed. As he walked, shadows and light
enveloped his lithe and well-built frame, drawing a ballet of shades
upon his skin and clothes, enhancing his ghostly appearance.

The ebony-haired elf sitting on the vast bed did not react when the
piece of furniture gently protested the extra weight. He did not
avert his gaze from the sky when a strong arm encircled his waist
and a firm chest was pressed upon his back. A silky cascade of dark
curls mingled with his own when the phantom-like figure rested his
chin upon his strong shoulder. But he closed his eyes and leaned
into the comforting embrace, sighing as a hot breath lightly
caressed the top of his delicate pointed ear. It was barely more
than the silken touch of a butterfly's wing, but it sent shivers the
length of his spine. He had hoped for that moment without daring to
admit it. He had feared that he would have to spend that last night
alone, in the company of stars. But he had come.

He had come.

And joy and sorrow mixed in his heart in an outburst of emotions, as
he was reminded vividly of what was to happen tomorrow.

Slowly, he turned his head and crossed the other's gaze. For some
seconds, they remained still, gray eyes locked into gray eyes, a
similar _expression upon their equally fair features. An ocean of
thought was exchanged in that short moment without a word uttered.
Words had never been needed between them. It had always been like
that. Words had always been redundant and useless. Neither of them
broke the silence. They stared at each other, their eyes reflecting
the same awe, love and distress.

At the same time, they closed their eyes and let the soothing
obscurity rebuff the worries of the next day. They hugged tight,
clinging to each other in a desperate embrace, not wanting to let
the night die and the day begin.

Because, on the morrow, Elrohir Peredhel, youngest son of the Lord
of Imladris, would marry the youngest daughter of King Thranduil of
Mirkwood. As it had been agreed upon millennia ago between their
fathers, even before the children of them were born. Tomorrow, they
would bthemthemselves to each other as a symbol of the eternal
alliance between their two realms. And, tomorrow, Elladan would lose
everything he held dear: his brother, his friend, his lover, and
himself.

It was so difficult to accept that marriage, to accept the
separation from each other. They had shared so much through the
passing of time. So much and yet, so little. Love and acceptance.
Stain and purity. Knowledge and innocence.

Of course, it was wrong. Of course, it was impossible. Of course,
they should have known better than to involve each other in such a
story. Of course, they should have stopped that madness before it
was too late, nipping it in the bud. Of course, they had endangered
themselves, and not only their honor, but also that of their family
and of their realm. Incest was synonymous with exile and
hopelessness.

But how could they have stopped it when they had not known when it
had begun? Who could say when the brotherly gazes they had shared
had become the butterfly glance of lovers? Who could say when
everything had changed irremediably?

As long as they could remember, no one else had ever been in their
thoughts. They were twins, after all, and they had always been
closer than other brothers. They had shared everything: their
mother's womb, their first words, which were directed to each other,
their first laughter, their first tears, their first fears. They
were twins, two halves of a same soul. Two beings incomplete when
separated.

But one day, everything had changed. One day, they had looked at
each other with a glint that had not existed before. And they had
averted their gazes, afraid of themselves, afraid of their awakening
feelings. They had not spoken of it because words were useless
between them. Each of them had known perfectly the other's feelings.
But they had kept behaving as if nothing had changed. As if they
were still the same…

But they were not. After that stare, each could remember nights
spent alone in their own bedrooms, turning and turning again in
their vast beds. Too vast and too empty, when their minds were
filled with unbidden fantasies. Both of them could remember the
feeling of shame that came along waking in sheets soiled by the
evidence of their inner turmoil, by the need to touch each other, by
the awakening of the senses during a vivid dream. Neither of them
had really understood what had been happening to them. They were
twins, brothers, and friends. They had not understood the
frightening strength of their feelings, ashamed of taking so much
pure ure in the mere presence of the other. Ashamed of the others'
reactions if they were to know. Afraid of themselves.

Because they were not meant for each other.

They had known of the alliance, which would bind together the two
Elven realms through the expected marriage of the youngest children,
since they had been of age to understand. It had been common
knowledge that they had both accepted without any rebellion. It was
their father's wish and, since he had given his word, it was a
matter of honor. And honor was not to be taken lightly.

For years, they had claimed nothing had changed and had learnt to
hide their unexpected feelings. They, who were so close of each
other, had come to dread the moment they were left alone with their
unbidden desire, had come to dread the slightest touch that would
awaken new worlds of sensations.

They were brothers and, even if they were twins, it was unknown.
They had not wanted to cross the thin line still separating them: it
would have meant the collapse of their world. Everything had been so
simple and so easy before. Everything had become so blurred and
uncertain after. It had seemed they were walking on a rope stretched
between the two edges of a chasm and they were balancing on the
brink of madness.

Madness… Love and hate had been melting in their blood. Hate for
those unexpected feelings. Strange feelings. Hate. Love. Their world
was crumbling, spinning in a waltz of contradictory sensations. They
had felt it and that simple fact had frightened them to their very
core.

They had tried to stop it. They had retreated into themselves, both
of them trying to avoid the other. Failing miserably as they needed
each other to live. They had never been separated and they had been
unable to sever the ties that bound them.

People had noticed their strange behavior, but had interpreted them
it to the difficulties of their age. To that strange period of life
when elflings opened their minds to the world, hesitant and groping,
halfway to adulthood, but still attached to their childhood.

If they had known…

If they had known their internal struggles. If they had known their
despairs when they would awake after dreams full of their embraces,
the name of the other dying upon their lips, sweat running the
length of their spines, their flesh aching because of their vivid
fantasies. If they had known how much they had despised themselves.

If they had known…

But people had only seen what they had wanted to see. And they had
not noticed their silent cries and invisible tears.

Was it so wrong to love his brother and, yet, naught had looked
purer and more beautiful.

But, one night, they had not fought against their feelings. One
night, the need of comfort had been stronger. It had been one night
as this one, when the beauty of the stars interspersed in the
darkened sky had shone with a purity that had not reflected the
sadness of their hearts. Their mother had taken a ship for Valinor,
leaving them no hope of return. It had been a night when Ithil's
silver light had fallen upon their two distressed hearts, feeling
the weight of abandonment. That night, under her benevolent gaze,
they had sought in themselves the courage to go on, the courage to
keep on living. They had clung to each other to find strength and
love. And they had stopped denying their hearts' wishes. It would
have been too difficult to refuse when they needed it so much.

Under the sparkling of stars, they had discovered the pleasure of
loving each other, the calming of their minds and hearts, the
drowning in an ocean of peace. Nothing had ever been more right. As
their souls had finally found the rest they had been seeking.

But dawn had come too soon; leaving them with the guilt of their
feelings. Neither of them had really regretted what had happened
that night. It had been too overwhelming, too good to find some
peace again. But the worse had been to look at each other in the
bright light of the sun. Under the cover of the night, it had been
easy to conceal their love. In the daylight, everything had been
different, as they could not claim to feel anything else than
brotherly affection.

They had not spoken of that night. Neither had they spoken of a
possible future. They had known too well that they had no future
together as lovers. They had known that, one day, Elrohir would have
to bind himself to Thranduil's daughter and that day they would have
to learn again how to be brothers. Theirs remained an unspoken
agreement: they had never discussed it. They never confessed their
feelings to each other. It would have been useless: that they had
ever known. Their love had remained a shadowy love, never displayed
in daylight, but always in the blessing of Ithil. They were children
of the night, made of light and darkness, and their love was no
different. For years, they had kept their nocturnal habits, finding
only joy and peace in the mere presence of the other. For the time
of the night, they would love each other. They would let the
constant reminder of their difference slip away. They would make
love desperately or cheerfully according to their moods, but it
would always end in an explosion of sensation and passion, when
their souls united and became one as if it should have never been
otherwise.

But tonight, that would end forever. What was not supposed to be
would soon cease to exist. They would let fate separate them. What
could they have done against it? They would sacrifice their love for
the sake of their realm. Imladris needed that alliance to
consolidate the relationships with Mirkwood. Tonight would be the
last time their union was blessed by Ithil's light. Tonight would be
the last time they would belong to each other. Tomorrow, all would
change and Elrohir would bind himself to one he would have to learn
to love and cherish. For them, there was no hope anymore. Elven
bindings were meant to last forever. Tonight would be their last
night together.

Suddenly, the sad song of cicadas ended, breaking the cadence
rocking the twins' still embrace. Silence exploded in the night,
awakening them to reality, pulling them out of their dream state
and memories.

Slowly, Elrohir pushed his brother's long ebony hair aside,
revealing the pale column of his throat. Bending, he kissed
languidly the opalescent flesh, caressing with his soft velvety lips
the smooth skin of his brother's neck. The chant of cicadas resumed,
slower than before, less loud, as if the little animals had
understood the meaning of that moment and wished to accompany their
last embraces with their magical voices. His eyes closed, breathing
deeply his twin's scent, pine and sweet honey. Elrohir trailed his
lips the length of his brother jaw, reaching finally the well-drawn
lips. Imperceptibly, Elladan sighed, leaning more in the comforting
arms circling him. He met his brother's lips, desiring nothing more
than their soft touch upon his fevered skin.

Their kiss was tender, barely more than two pairs of lips touching
in a chaste contact, tasting each other, memorizing the edge of the
others. It was like the kiss of two children, like the first kiss of
two lovers. Hesitant and pure. Loving and shy. They remained like
that a few moments, each of them satisfied to feel the breath of the
other brushing his lips.

Elladan made the first move, turning himself toward his brother to
face his mirrored image and he plunged his gaze into the bottomless
pupils of his twin. He knew that the darkened orbs were only
reflecting his own desire, he wanted to drown himself in them.
Lazily, almost shyly, he stretched a hesitant pale hand and placed
two long fingers upon the soft skin of Elrohir's cheek. Fascinated,
he watched as his twin closed his eyes, breaking eye contact and
leaning in the soft caress. Leisurely, he began to follow the
defined lines of his brother's face, tracing with fingers, barely
more than brushing against the velvety skin. His fingers traced
their path the length of the jaw, then went up to caress a sensitive
pointed ear, lingering on his top before moving down and pushed
aside a strand of silky dark hair.

The light contact was sending shivers through Elrohir's body. Having
closed his eyes heightened his sensations and the fickle caress of
his brother's hand seemed to be one of the most erotic touches he
had ever known. His breath quickened and became somewhat ragged, as
he felt the tip of a finger teasing the tip of his ear before
exploring an arched eyebrow. The situation was incredibly sensual;
he could feel Elladan's proximity, feel the fascination in his
gestures, feel his arousal between them. He tried to slow his
breath, wanting the magic of the moment never to end. The fingers
were now pressed a little bit more against the crest of his nose and
he smiled inwardly, as he experienced a very inappropriate tickling
that he chased away with a furrowing of brow. But when the curious
fingers reached his lips and stroke them languorously, he indulged
the temptation and kissed their tips. He heard Elladan's sharp
intake of breath that betrayed his brother's surprise. But was it
surprise? Or was it simply the awakening of passion? Slowly, careful
not to break the alchemy of the moment, he opened his eyes as he
parted his lips to take the wandering fingers into his mouth. When
he plunged his eyes into the bottomless darkened ocean of his
brother's eyes, he felt himself sucked into a world of completion
and love, where nothing existed, save themselves. Time was suspended
and Elrohir was only aware of that intense gaze upon him, which was
saying so much to him without even speaking. He wrapped his tongue
around one of the fingers and licked it delicately, never leaving
his brother's gaze. Under the fire flaring in those huge pupils, he
felt himself grow hard, his aching flesh restrained in his leggings.

Elladan watched in awe as his brother began to kiss his fingers,
feeling a rush of blood in his loins as the nimble tongue began to
play with them. He could not move anymore, could not take his gaze
away from the fascinating picture made by his twin. He had often
wondered if they were still alike in the building up of passion and
love, if his own eyes were hazy and unfocused, if his own hair were
framing his flushed face in the same way. He could not fathom how he
could be as beautiful and as desirable as the one he shared his
nights with. His breath became heavy and burning fire ran through
his veins when his brother ceased his ministrations and looked
cautiously at him, an unmistakable _expression upon his fair features.

Elrohir was looking at him, still and concentrated, need and want
clearly written in his eyes. For some seconds, they did not move.
They were the perfect image of symmetry, their identical face just
inches from each other. They were harmony. They were perfection.

Elrohir moved first, bending his limber body as his breath was
caressing his twin's earlobe, awakening delicious chills in Elladan.
Words were rare during their nights; they had always preferred the
silence and its promises to unneeded babbling. Silence gave to the
night another dimension, more sensual, less frightening. Sentences
were rare and that simple knowledge gave all their strength to
Elrohir's murmured words.

"Have me tonight… Give me something to remember forever…"

Elladan sighed in spite of himself, overwhelmed by a new wave of
pain when he heard the sadness and resignation hidden in the depths
of his twin's voice. But he cast the awkward feeling aside. There
would be other nights to cry and mourn. But there would be no other
night like this one. Elrohir sensed his brother's distress as he
began to nibble the pale column of his neck, leaving butterfly
kisses upon the shivering flesh. At same time, he pressed their
chests together, pushing with his weigh until they were both lying
upon the bed, Elrohir on top of Elladan, their limbs entangled in a
passionate embrace. Then, they kissed again, but, this time, it was
neither gentle nor shy, it was the burning joining of two hungry
mouths. Their lips crushing, their tongues battling together,
dancing a lascivious dance, swirling and spinning. They broke it
when the lack of air became too much, the intensity of the kiss left
them panting and hungry for more.hinghing could be heard save forheirheir harsh breathing.

With the agility given by years and years of habit, they unclothed
each other, drinking in the sight revealed by the absence of
garments. Marble skin reflecting the silvery light of the night,
broad shoulders developed by hours spent upon training fields
wielding swords or practicing archery, slender waists, long and
powerful legs that were no less graceful… Their bodies were
betraying the pressing need they felt, their cocks standing proud
and erected between them, reacting to the vision of pure beauty
displayed in front of them.

Elladan refused to act on the desire taking hold of his eager body.
He wanted that moment to last forever, to memorize every move, every
sound, every moan his beloved twin would make. He wanted to have him
writhing in need under him, to have him beg for his release, to have
him remember this night forever. The elder twin kissed his sibling
deeply, but did not linger upon those delicate pink fruits waiting
to be tasted. He lay his beautiful brother upon his back, ignoring
the groan of protest coming from his lips. Then, he undertook to
explore the perfect body, leaving a wet trail of kisses the length
of the smooth torso, licking teasingly at a dark nipple while
pinching slightly the other, ignoring delibery thy the way his
brother's body arched in need, ignoring the long-fingered hand
twined in his ebony mane. He went down, never ceasing his
ministrations, pausing to give more attention to Elrohir's navel
before going lower but careful to never brush his weeping erection.
Then, with a mischievous smile as he heard his brother's ragged
breathing and moans, he took his straining member in mouth, licking
and suckling, wrapping his tongue around the hot column of flesh,
bringing Elrohir to the brink of climax before retreating, denying
him release. He did not want it to end too quickly. He lightly
stroked the narrow hips, restraining them to prevent his wanton
brother from bucking into the hot cavern of his mouth.

He raised his eyes to look at his brother, at his eyes darkened by
pleasure, at his glistening skin, at his parted lips, at the
porcelain teeth biting his bottom lips. He would have liked to
preserve that image, to keep forever in his mind that picture of his
brother, writhing in need under his touch, to keep in his mouth the
salty and spicy scent of his brother's essence. But, as a louder
moan left Elrohir's lips, he was sent back to reality. His own
erection ached and he knew he could not last very much longer as
each sounds coming from Elrohir sent jolts of pleasure to his
swollen groin.

Elrohir had closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the
mighty stream of sensation crashing upon his body. But it was the
feeling of total completion, the feeling of belonging that was the
most overwhelming. He knew what was to come when a spiced scent of
lavender spilled into the room and, unconsciously, he arched himself
once more, spreading his legs wider as to give better access to his
secret place. A confident digit was placed at his narrowed entrance
and he relaxed as his brother's knowing fingers prepared him.

Soon, the fingers left him and were replaced by something larger and
hotter, which filled him completely, tearing from him groans of
contentment. When Elladan began to thrust into him, he wrapped his
arms and legs around his brother's neck and waist, shifting against
his firm body, locking their gazes together. Their bodies were
dancing together, fitting as none would ever fit, knowing
instinctively how to give the other more pleasure. Their pace
increased, sending wave after wave of pleasure through them. Neither
of them wished to close his eyes, refusing to forsake their last
chance, wanting to keep that image forever. This was the end, the
last time they would make love with each other, the last time they
would be able to touch each other in that way. And that hopeless
knowledge conferred on their joining a kind of desperate frenzy, a
kind of ecstatic agony.

Orgasm surprised them, sending them over the edge, into a world of
beauty and love, where colors were deeper and light was brighter. A
feeling of total understanding seized them as their souls were
united for the last time. An ancient knowledge spread ieir eir
heart, the knowledge that no one would ever love them as they loved
each other, that their love was right and unique. They remained
still for a long moment, their bodies still joined in a tender
embrace, cheek against cheek, long wet strands of dark haired melted
together, hands twinned in a soft caress. Neither of them spoke,
letting the silence soothe their fears.

They knew that they had lost each other. That they would never have
another chance to be together as lovers. They would accept becoming
the loving brothers they had never ceased to be in the eyes of the
world. They should learn to be Elladan and Elrohir, not only the
twin brothers of Imladris. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a new
era, bearing new pains and new joys. But in their heart dwelt the
comforting knowledge that no one would ever replace them.

And in the black velvety fabric of the sky, Ithil shone brightly.
The The end.