jay_slash

Fic: Too Much Information (PG13; Elrohir/Legolas, Elrond, Celebrían, Elladan)

Mon, 03 Nov 2008 21:10:11 GMT

I wrote this ficlet for the first a_l_e_c challenge, 'Don't Tell Me, I don't Want To Know.' And look - it came first!

Summary: Elrond inadvertently sees far more han he wants to.

Too Much Information

The morning room was light and bright, facing east towards the mountains and the rising sun. It was also unexpectedly empty, with only Celebrían there. She pushed a cup towards him as he bent to kiss her. “Is no one else here yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. Elladan and Arwen went down to the kitchens – they said something about arranging a picnic.”

“A good idea – it looks like it will be a wonderful day. And Elrohir and Legolas?”

Celebrían shook her head. “They are not here yet. They are probably still asleep – they were up late last night, talking. And Legolas must be tired after his journey.”

Legolas and Thranduil had been expected at some time during the next week or two, for a Council between the Elven realms. But to Elrohir’s great joy, Legolas had arrived unexpectedly, late the previous night; having outridden his father and their guards.

Elrond smiled. “I imagine they had much to tell each other. Five years is a long time. I wish they could spend more time together, but Legolas is as tied to Lasgalen by his duties and responsibilities as Elrohir is here. I am glad Legolas arrived early, though – even a few extra days is a gift for them. But I think I will call them – they will not want to miss breakfast, and if Elladan gets here first, there will be little left.”

Celebrían called something after him as he left the room, but the closing door cut off her words. He hurried up the stairs and along the hallway to his sons’ rooms, pausing outside Elrohir’s door to knock. There was no reply, so he pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Elrohir …” he began, but then his voice died in his throat, and he stopped in shock.

Elrohir and Legolas were not asleep. They were entwined on the bed in a knot of long limbs and a tangle of raven and gold hair, the early morning sun gleaming on sweat-slicked skin.

Rooted to the spot, Elrond watched as Elrohir drew back slightly, engulfing Legolas’s shaft in a very practised movement and then twisted, rolling them both over so that he lay beneath Legolas, his legs wrapped around Legolas’s waist and pulling him closer …

Elrond finally tore his eyes away and broke free of his paralysis, backing out of the room as fast as he could. Elrohir and Legolas had long been lovers, of course they had; but there were some details that no father really wanted to know.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, still in shock. He closed his eyes, wishing he could forget. In those few seconds he had seen far more than he ever wanted to, and the images were scorched into his brain. He wished he could close his ears as well, as the sound of loud moans and Elrohir’s very vocal encouragement drifted through the solid oak. He moved away from the door quickly, and out of earshot; determinedly trying to think of something else – anything else.

Returning to the breakfast room, he found Celebrían pouring more tea. She looked up with a smile. “Are Elrohir and Legolas coming?”

Elrond winced. “Any minute now, I should think,” he replied unwarily. Then he cleared his throat. “Yes, they should be along soon.”

He looked up quickly as the door opened again, but it was only Elladan, with Arwen close behind him.

“Are Legolas and El not down yet?” Elladan asked.

Elrond shook his head. “Not yet.” He swallowed. “They were – busy.”

Elladan stared at his father, then gave a snort of laughter. “You walked in on them?” he demanded.

Elrond nodded faintly.

Elladan gave another shout of laughter, and Arwen found it impossible to stifle her giggles. Celebrían sighed. “Really, Elrond – you should have knocked! You should have thought! I did tell you to be careful.”

“I did knock …” Elrond began.

“What did they say?” Elladan insisted, ignoring his parents.

“They did not see me,” Elrond explained thankfully. “And you are not to breathe a word to them. Promise me, Elladan!”

Elladan grinned. “Very well.” His eyes gleamed. “But what exactly were they doing?”

Celebrían set her cup down with a clatter. “Elladan, you go too far! Elrond, do not tell me. I do not want to know!”

Fic: Welcome Home (Legolas/Elrohir, Thranduil; PG13)

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 11:47:56 GMT

And here's a second story for today!

melethen posted a challenge to write about Elrohir whispering something in his lover's ear - well, how could I resist a prompt like that? My Legolas muse came up with this ficlet.

Legolas arrives home from a long patrol and finds a very welcome surprise waiting for him.

Welcome Home

It was past midnight before Legolas finally reached the private family quarters deep in the halls of Lasgalen. Despite the time, he tapped softly at his father’s door and opened it.

“Father? I am back,” he said – as he had always done on returning home from patrol, whether short or long, no matter how late the hour or how busy Thranduil was with court business or with his seneschal, the dour Lanatus.

As always, Thranduil looked up and smiled. “Welcome home.” He rose and kissed Legolas on the brow. “I am glad to see you safe and well – though you look weary. Go and rest – I will talk to you in the morning.” His smile deepened and he looked away furtively. “Sleep well.”

Legolas glanced at his father. “What is it? Is there news?”

“Yes, but it can wait until the morning.” Thranduil smiled again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Adar.”

Legolas continued to his own chamber, opening the door to near darkness. He did not bother to light a candle as he crossed the room, familiar from centuries and centuries of use. The dull glow of the fire gave him all the light he needed to see his way. He sat down to pull off his boots, wondering again at Thranduil’s odd, secretive smile. His father was up to something – but what? He pulled his boots off with a shrug, throwing them into a corner before stripping off his clothes. It was too late to call servants to draw a bath, and in any case he was too weary after the long patrol – it could all wait until the morning.

He slid into bed, looking forward to the simple pleasures of being home – a good night’s rest in a soft bed without the need to keep constantly alert for danger, and the luxury of sleeping on past dawn without the need to wash in cold water. Soon there would be the joy of Elrohir arriving for the winter, and days spent beneath the frosty, slumbering trees; and long nights spent before roaring log fires.

As happy dreams engulfed him, an arm wrapped around his waist. Soft lips explored his neck, while a firm body – hard in all the right places – pressed against him. “Welcome home, my love,” a beloved voice whispered into his ear. “I have been waiting for you. I arrived early – did your father tell you?”

Overjoyed, Legolas turned into Elrohir’s embrace. This was a truly welcome homecoming. “No,” he murmured. “It seems he forgot.”

The End

Drabble - Anticipation (Legolas/Twins; PG13)

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 11:43:35 GMT

This is a drabble I wrote for minuial_nuwing 's birthday. Legolas encounters the twins for the first time - and likes what he sees!

Anticipation

Legolas leaned against a pillar, observing Elrond’s twins across the firelit hall. Tall, dark-haired and grey-eyed, they were more than fair, they were beautiful – and so much alike that few could tell them apart. Yet there was also an indefinable otherness about them that must surely come from their human heritage.

He felt a familiar stirring of desire, and nodded to himself. Oh, yes – very fair indeed. But how to choose? Which of these beautiful Peredhil should share his bed tonight?

Then he gave a slow, predatory smile. There were no rules that said he had to choose just one ...

Happy Birthday Fim!

Tue, 23 Sep 2008 18:57:16 GMT

It's </a></font></b></a>fimbrethiel 's birthday, and in celebration I have written an Elladan/Elrohir ficlet for the occasion.

Happy birthday, Fim - and thank you for betaing the last two chapters of 'Beyond The Dimrill Gate'!

Warnings: NC17, Slash and twincest. Nothing to do with my Elrohir/Legolas stories, but Fimbrethiel is the Mistress of Twincest ...

Six Months Is Too Long

Elrohir dropped his pack onto the ground as he surveyed the site Hablarad had chosen for the rangers’ latest encampment.

“Is this the best we can do?” he grumbled.

Although trees provided shelter from the scorching sun, the only source of water was a tiny spring that welled up at the base of an outcrop of rocks before flowing into a shallow basin. It was adequate for drinking, but nothing more – and he was hot, sweaty and dusty. He longed to be clean, but six months of living cheek by hairy jowl with the rangers had taught him that they regarded personal cleanliness as an unnecessary luxury. The water here was barely deep enough to dip a toe into.

“Why?” Hablarad asked. “We have shelter from the sun, wood for the cooking fires, grazing for the horses, and water. We can stay here for several weeks. What more do you need?”

Elrohir sighed. “Water. Proper water,” he explained. “Lots of it. I want to bathe. I want to wash my hair and clothes. I am fed up with smelling like my horse!”

“Prissy elf,” Hablarad teased. “If you really want to walk that far, there is a river a mile or two to the east. It falls into deep pools, but the land is too barren and rocky, so we do not camp there. The horses don’t like it.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Elrohir breathed. Turning, he caught Elladan’s eye. “El? Are you coming?”

Elladan nodded. “Lead the way, little brother!”

“Well, if you’re going to leave us to do all the work of setting up camp, the least you can do is bring back supper – and cook it!” Hablarad called after them.

Elrohir nodded. “We will catch some fish!” he replied.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Elladan turned to him. “Is bathing the only reason you wanted to escape for a while?” he asked with a slow smile. “Or was there another reason? Hmm?” He brushed the back of his hand against Elrohir’s face.

Elrohir caught at the hand and kissed it. “Need you ask? It has been too long, El.”

Elladan drew him close. “I cannot wait,” he whispered, his breath soft and warm against Elrohir’s ear. They shared a kiss, long and deep, that filled them both with longing for more. “Soon,” Elladan breathed. “Soon.”

They quickened their pace. Soon the trees began to thin, and as the path climbed it became more and more stony. The noise of rushing water grew, and soon they came upon a waterfall that fell from a high ledge of rock into a deep pool. Away from the turbulence of the cascade, the water was deep and still before flowing into yet another pool. Flat rocks, warmed by the hot sun, rimmed the edge of the pool, and they dropped their bags there and spread a blanket on the ground.

“Race you!” Elladan challenged with a gleam in his eye.

They stripped off their worn, travel-stained clothes and dived into the pool. Elrohir came up gasping. “Valar, it is cold!” he complained. As he swam, the dirt and weariness of the long patrol was washed away and he finally began to feel clean again.

He ducked his head beneath the water, shaking his hair so that it drifted around him like tendrils of waterweeds – and when he came up again, Elladan was there. Sunlight gleamed golden on his skin, and the beaded droplets of water glistened like diamonds.

Standing waist deep in the water they kissed again, bodies pressed close together. Elrohir could feel the swelling hardness of Elladan’s shaft against his, and he twisted his hands into his brother’s hair, trying to pull him even closer.

At last Elladan broke away. “Enough,” he protested, his voice unsteady. “I can wait no longer. Now, El!”

They splashed to the side of the pool and dropped down onto the blanket. Elladan knelt above Elrohir, hands placed either side of his head, a smile lighting his face. “It has been so long,” he whispered. “Too long.” Lowering his head, he placed a fleeting kiss on Elrohir’s mouth, then began to work downwards, his lips and tongue tracing a warm trail across Elrohir’s damp skin.

Elrohir gasped as Elladan’s tongue circled each nipple in turn, and teeth nipped gently. A series of scarcely felt, butterfly-light kisses trailed across his chest and stomach, kindling a fire of longing, a fierce ache almost painful in its intensity. He could not stifle a moan as the tongue swirled into his navel, and then Elladan’s mouth reached his aching shaft and he arched helplessly, thrusting up into the heat.

Flinging out one arm he scrabbled blindly in one of the packs, feeling for the jar of salve that had remained unused for six long months. His questing fingers found it at last and he pulled it free, then put his hands against Elladan’s chest, pushing him away gently. “Enough, El. Lay down.”

Elladan’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as he rolled over onto his back and Elrohir knelt astride him. “Yes, tôren. Now.”

Elrohir grinned. He had other plans in mind for his twin. Elladan’s eyes widened as Elrohir took the salve and began to rub it onto his shaft. “El? What are you … ohh.” His voice broke. “Oh, gods – do not stop, El.”

Using just his fingertips, Elrohir kept his touch as light as a feather, knowing the gentle caress would drive Elladan wild. Elladan moaned, thrusting up in search of a firmer touch, but Elrohir drew his hands back with a laugh. “Be patient, brother. Soon.” He smeared a little of the cool ointment onto his own entrance, then lowered himself onto Elladan’s shaft, sliding down slowly until he was filled completely.

Elladan’s hands gripped his hips tightly as he thrust upwards, and Elrohir rose, then impaled himself again on the steel hard shaft. “Oh gods, Elladan – more!” he gasped, pressing down harder. Elladan slammed up into him again and again, his fingers digging in as he clasped Elrohir to him. There would be bruises later, but Elrohir did not care – all that mattered was the rod of flesh spearing him, and the love that blazed from Elladan’s eyes.

They began to move more quickly. Elrohir could feel his climax approaching rapidly, and below him Elladan gave a breathless gasp. “Yes – now, El. Now!”

Elrohir moaned as Elladan’s hand closed over his shaft, gripping it tightly, and after two more hard, deep thrusts he came, erupting over Elladan’s hand with a shuddering moan. Elladan tensed beneath him and gave a choked cry as he gave a final thrust, and Elrohir felt the hot spurt deep within.

He fell forward to rest against Elladan’s chest as their breathing quietened and racing heartbeats slowed. “I love you, tôren,” he whispered.

“Mmm – love you too,” Elladan replied drowsily.

Closely entwined, they lay together as the sun began to sink in the west, before finally stirring. “We need to bathe again,” Elrohir whispered.

Elladan sighed. “I know. I just do not want to move from here – from you. Six months is too long.”

Laughing, Elrohir scrambled to his feet and pulled Elladan up. “But we must go back, or Hablarad will wonder where we are,” he pointed out. “Come on, El.”

They swam again, washing away all traces of their loving, then dressed swiftly before heading back to the rangers’ camp. Dusk was deepening as they came through the trees, when Elladan suddenly stopped with a curse.

“Oh, Valar – we forgot supper!”

Fic: Acceptance

Thu, 04 Sep 2008 17:39:18 GMT

Elrohir travels with his father and brother to Lasgalen for the first time since he and Legolas became lovers - and wonders what reception he will find. Set around TA 200. G rated, but implied Elrohir/Legolas slash.

Acceptance

Elrohir straightened in his saddle as the party from Imladris rode beneath the beeches and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. What sort of welcome would be awaiting him in Lasgalen?

Elladan – riding at his side, as always – nudged his horse closer, and leaned across. “Looking forward to seeing Legolas again?” he whispered with a grin.

Elrohir merely nodded, trying to ignore his steadily growing anxiety. What if Legolas no longer felt the same way? They had been apart for over a year, and had been lovers for such a short time before that. What if he had been wrong? What if he had mistaken love for something that was in reality no more than a casual affection? What if the passionate nights of exploration and discovery had been no more than a way to pass the time? What if …

“Stop it!” Elladan murmured, reading his turbulent emotions only too clearly. “How can you possibly doubt what you have? Have your feelings changed?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then is it Legolas you doubt? Do you trust him so little? Do you think him shallow, or fickle?”

“No!”

“Well, then,” Elladan retorted unanswerably.

Elrohir began to relax a little. No, he was not mistaken. In truth, he longed to see Legolas again, and wished he could speed the last few miles of their journey. Urging his horse onwards, he fell to daydreaming about the four weeks or so they were to spend in Lasgalen. Days of riding through the Greenwood, of visiting the Beech Valley which Legolas had assured him was the most beautiful place in the entire forest. Days … and nights.

He cast a sidelong glance at Elladan, wondering how he might find the chance to spend time alone with Legolas. Whenever they were in Lasgalen, he and Elladan usually shared a chamber. There would be little chance of privacy there. Perhaps Elladan could be persuaded to spend a night or two elsewhere? There would be even less chance of using Legolas’s rooms – Thranduil had been reluctant to accept their relationship. Not, Legolas had assured him in one of his letters, because Thranduil did not approve; but rather that he yearned for grandchildren and still harboured faint hopes that Legolas would one day marry.

He wondered yet again what sort of welcome would await him.

As they rode beneath the sentinel oaks onto the green lawn that spread before the gates of Lasgalen, Thranduil and Legolas waited for them – but Elrohir had eyes only Legolas. He wore his customary green and brown, but the green tunic was shot through with silver threads, and his trousers were a fine, dark brown suede. Sunlight glinted on his golden hair and simple crown of beech leaves, highlighting the gold-flecked green of his eyes.

Elrohir swallowed, his mouth dry with longing, and wondered how he would endure the long, formal greetings beneath the eyes of everyone. Tonight, he promised himself. Tonight – somehow. He glanced sideways at Elladan. “El – would you make yourself scarce tonight? Please?” he whispered.

“Why, little brother? Do you have plans for our woodland prince?” Elladan grinned. “And do I want to know what plans?”

“Probably not,” Elrohir muttered as they dismounted in front of Thranduil. They exchanged formal but friendly greetings as Thranduil welcomed them all. The welcome Legolas gave Elrohir was equally formal – at least to onlooking eyes. Yet his friendly handclasp gripped Elrohir’s fingers for a few moments longer than was strictly necessary, and the smile he gave Elrohir lit his eyes until they danced like sunlight on leaves.

Elrohir’s heart lurched, and all lingering doubts fled. His only concern now was how to contain himself until the evening’s festivities and feasting were finally over. Schooling himself, he put on his best diplomatic manner and inclined his head to Thranduil. “Greetings, your Majesty. My brother and I are delighted to be here once more.” Drawing a deep breath, he turned to Legolas. “Greetings, Legolas. I hope I will see a great deal of you on this visit.” Beside him, Elladan gave a muffled snort, and Legolas’s answering smile made the sun seem dim.

“Elrond, Elladan – you will be shown to your usual rooms.” Thranduil hesitated, and Elrohir glanced at him warily. Was he to be banished to the stables? Was Thranduil so very disapproving? The woodland king’s searching gaze held his for a moment, and Elrohir was reminded oddly of his grandmother. Then Thranduil nodded, and gave a small, resigned smile.

“Elrohir, you will be sharing my son’s chambers. Welcome to Lasgalen.”

Fic: In The Heat Of The Night (Elrohir/Legolas; NC17)

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 20:37:51 GMT

It is a hot, humid night in Imladris - and Elrohir and Legolas seek a way to cool down.

In The Heat Of The Night

Elrohir stirred restlessly, pushing back the light sheet that covered him. The night was too hot. The slight breeze which had made the day bearable had died, and now not a breath of air drifted through the wide open windows. The light, filmy curtains hung limp and lifeless in the sultry heat.

Legolas slept uneasily at his side, clad only in a glimmer of moonlight which turned his skin to silver.

Well, if they were both awake Elrohir reflected, then they might as well put the sleepless night to good use. He turned towards Legolas, drawing him into his arms and nuzzling at the back of his neck as he explored the soft flesh exposed there. The skin there tasted warm and salty, blended with the indefinable scent that was Legolas – a heady, intoxicating mix. He savoured the taste while one hand drifted lower to explore even more enticing areas – but Legolas pushed his groping hand away with a reluctant murmur of protest. “Mmm. Stop. It is too hot – even for that.”

Elrohir sighed in frustration, but he had to agree. Heat radiated from them both like a furnace, and he could feel the prickle of sweat beading his skin. With a final kiss he moved away again to his own side of the wide bed. It was tantalising to have his mate so close when the hot, sultry weather sapped both his energy and desire to take advantage of the situation. If only he could think of something to make them both more comfortable …

“I have an idea,” he whispered, sliding off the bed. “Get up.”

Legolas rolled over and looked at him questioningly. “Why?”

“Just get up! You will see.”

“Do I have to get dressed?”

Elrohir grinned. “Not for long. Come on!”

Dressed only in thin cotton sleep pants and light tunics, they went out through the windows which led onto the terrace, creeping past Elladan’s room where his windows also stood open to the night.

“Where are we going?” Legolas asked as he followed Elrohir across the gardens.

“Guess!” He led the way through the trees to one of the many streams and rivers that flowed through the valley, stopping on the edge of a wide pool. The water here was deep, carved out by the plunging waterfall which cascaded over rocks at the head of the pool.

Flat, water-smoothed rocks rose above the water, forming a perfect platform for resting or diving. Elrohir leaped lightly up onto the stones – still warm from the day’s sun – and spread a blanket out before stripping off. “The last one in is orc bait!” he called, issuing the challenge he and Elladan had always taunted each other with, and then dived into the pool. There was a shock of cold as he hit the water, but it felt cool and fresh against his skin as he swam out to the centre.

He turned onto his back as he drifted lazily in the gentle flow of the stream, looking back at Legolas. He stood at the edge of the rocks, silhouetted by moonlight as he tied his hair back with a plaited strip of leather. Then, raising his arms he sprang lightly into the air and dived into the pool, slicing through the water. He surfaced next to Elrohir, blinking water out of his eyes.

Elrohir hooked one arm around his neck and kissed him. “Not too hot now?”

“No – just right,” Legolas murmured. Breaking away, he kicked a wave of water at Elrohir, laughing. “But what was that about orc bait?”

They swam languidly in the soft, silky water, coming together frequently to exchange a kiss or a touch. At last Elrohir swam to the side and scrambled up onto the rocks, stretching out on the blanket. The rocks beneath still radiated a faint heat, comforting after the chill of the pool.

Legolas soon joined him and they lay side by side in a comfortable silence until Legolas turned his head. “How long do we have?” he asked.

“Until what?”

“Until one of the patrols comes past here and sees us!”

Elrohir shook his head. “As long as you like. They have already come this way, and will not be back tonight.”

Legolas propped his head on one hand, a slow smile lighting his face. “Are you sure?”

Elrohir grinned. “Who do you think writes the duty rotas and patrol routes? Linhir and Galdor came past about two hours ago; and by now they will be down at the bridge. We have until daylight – and Elladan is the only one likely to come this way in any case.”

“Good.” Legolas moved closer and they exchanged another slow, languid kiss; hands touching and caressing. Elrohir raised one hand and deftly untied the leather thong holding Legolas’s hair back until it cascaded about his face in damp tendrils, and kissed him again. Legolas tasted clean and fresh, and his lips were sweet as Elrohir plundered his mouth. At last he rolled over, pushing Legolas back down onto the blanket and groped among their discarded clothes for the jar of salve tucked into his pocket.

As Elrohir pushed slowly into him Legolas gave a long, low moan and wound his hands into Elrohir’s hair, pulling him down for another searing kiss. Elrohir moved with rhythmic, shallow thrusts, tantalising Legolas, never quite thrusting all the way in, never quite brushing against his pleasure spot. He loved to feel the strong body yield so willingly, and to see Legolas arch beneath him, the golden head thrown back in ecstasy as he pleaded and begged.

“Ah – Gods, Elrohir! More!” Legolas moaned, trying to pull him closer and deeper.

“Not yet,” Elrohir whispered in response. “I want to make this last.” He slowed his movements even more, deliberately teasing; and smiled as Legolas groaned in frustration. “You are too good to hurry.”

Legolas had other ideas, though. He tore his mouth away from Elrohir’s, running his tongue lightly along the edge of Elrohir’s ear, his warm breath fluttering over the sensitive whorls. “No,” he insisted. “Now.”

Elrohir groaned, fighting the sensuous touch. Then, as Legolas curled that wickedly skilled tongue around the tip of his ear, he lost all control. He thrust deeply into the tight passage, burying himself in the silken heat with a feral growl. Legolas gasped beneath him, arching his body up and twining their legs together. “Yes!” he hissed. “Like that!”

Elrohir gave another hard thrust as Legolas tensed against him, then another. Legolas came with a soft cry, shuddering as climax took him and twisting his hands tightly into Elrohir’s hair. Helpless, Elrohir thrust into the clenching passage again until he came with a harsh groan. At last he collapsed against Legolas, whispering soft endearments as hands – gentle now – brushed through his hair tenderly.

They lay together as rapid heartbeats and ragged breathing quietened. “Love you,” he murmured at last.

“Love you too,” came the reply. “Always.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, and lulled by the music of the falls, they drifted into sleep.

The End

Heights Of Passion (Elrohir/Leolas; NC 17)

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 18:54:17 GMT

This was originally written for the Imladris Slash 'Different Places' challenge, and featured Elladan and Elrohir. I've since rewritten it to fit in with my Elrohir/Legolas series - please let me know if I've made a mistake on the editing!

Set in Minas Tirith, a year or two after the War of the Ring.

Heights of Passion

As Elrohir made his way out of the Hall of the Kings, he stretched wearily. The day had been long, filled with ceremonies and formalities, conferences and discussions, and long representations by leaders of the Haradrim. He and Elladan as ambassadors of Imladris; and Legolas representing both the Greenwood and Ithilien had heard the Haradrim swear oaths of allegiance to the throne of Gondor and offer pledges of goodwill to the Elven realms.

Finally, the long day of meetings and debate was over, and he stepped out into the fresh air, crossing the Court of the Fountain to a low wall overlooking the city of Minas Tirith. He was high above the city, looking eastward towards Osgiliath and the Mountains of Shadow shining whitely in the sun. Legolas already stood there, having escaped a few minutes earlier, and he turned with a smile as Elrohir approached. “Elrohir, there you are! Come here, there is something I want to show you.” Legolas led the way back across the courtyard to a narrow, arched doorway set back in a corner of the citadel, overshadowed by the Hall of the Kings and the White Tower. Once through the doorway, he pushed Elrohir back against the wall and kissed him deeply, hands twisted in his hair.

Finally he broke away, breathing deeply. “I have been wanting to do that all day,” he murmured. “No, not all day – all week,” he amended. Elrohir gazed at him, fighting down the longing that surged through him.

“I want to as well, you know that,” he began. “But we cannot – someone may see us. Legolas, we have to be careful!” he reminded his lover. Here in Minas Tirith they had to be so careful not to betray their true commitment; not to show the depth of their love. While Aragorn and Arwen knew full well their love for one another, the people were a different matter. The laws of Gondor were strict – and while Elrohir did not care for himself, he would do nothing that could reflect badly on Aragorn and Arwen or cause them harm. Aragorn was gradually repealing some of the older, harsher laws – but it was a slow business.

Legolas nodded. “I know. That is not what I wanted to show you, anyway. It was merely a … promise,” he added with a slow, seductive smile. “Come this way!” He turned, and began to climb a narrow, twisting flight of stairs that led up from the doorway. “No one will see us where I have in mind,” he explained, his voice growing fainter as he was hidden from view by the twists and turns of the stair. “Not even the Eagles. Come on, Elrohir!”

Intrigued and aroused, Elrohir followed Legolas up the steps. Up and up they climbed, ever higher. He noticed that the wall was no longer of dressed stone but rough rock, glistening with dampness in the dim light. Still they climbed, their breath harsh in the silence. “Where are we going?” he asked breathlessly.

“Wait and see!” was Legolas’s only reply, from somewhere ahead. Slower now, Elrohir continued upwards, his legs aching. He began to fear he would not be fit for whatever Legolas had in mind when they reached their destination. Gradually the light began to grow again, until at last he passed out of another archway into a bright, dazzling light.

Legolas turned to him with a grin. “Is this remote enough for you?” he asked, spreading his arms wide and turning in a circle.

They stood on a flat tongue of rock, high above the city, on the flanks of Mindolluin at the eastern edge of the Ered Nimrais. Wind buffeted at them, whipping their hair into tangled knots. They faced north, and far away, dim in the distance, Elrohir could see the first of the Beacon Hills, Amon Dîn. A rough shelter was built into the shadow of the cliff wall behind them, and in front was the covered beacon lit in times of war to summon aid from Gondor’s allies. The shelter was deserted now, the roof falling in, but still the wood and kindling for the beacon were dry and fresh, should they ever be needed again.

“I found this stairway a few days ago,” Legolas explained. “I checked – Aragorn no longer keeps guards posted here, he thinks it inhumane – but I thought of another use. We are high above the city, and cannot possibly be overlooked; and no-one else will venture up here!” He pulled Elrohir against him. “Besides,” he murmured, pulling a heavy iron key out of his pocket, “I locked the door at the bottom.” He kissed Elrohir again, lingeringly and thoroughly.

They were both breathless when they broke apart. Elrohir gazed at his lover, feeling the familiar deep burn of desire and longing. This was a side of Legolas he rarely saw. They were equals in their love-making, as in all else; sharing pleasures together, neither of them submissive or dominating. Just once in a while, though, Legolas would be forceful and demanding, and Elrohir yielded to him gladly. He felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought now.

Legolas raised one hand, gently brushing a strand of wind-blown hair from Elrohir’s face. “I want you, Elrohir,” he whispered huskily. “I want you so much.”

“Then have me,” Elrohir replied simply. “Now.”

To his surprise and dismay, Legolas shook his head. “Not yet. I do not want to take you on the bare rock like this – I want to do this properly. Wait there!”

Elrohir did not care about the chill of the bare rock, the loose stones that littered the surface, or the dirt and grit that would ruin their formal robes. It would take far too long for Legolas to go back to the citadel and collect whatever he needed, and Elrohir could simply not wait that long. He put his hand on Legolas’s arm to stop him. “It does not matter. Stay here.”

Legolas laughed merrily. “Do you think me so ill-prepared? I planned this days ago!” He turned to the ramshackle hut, returning with a bundle of warm furs and a worn saddlebag. He spread one of the furs on the ground, then opened the bag. “In here,” he announced triumphantly, “we have wine, bread, cheese and dried meat; and a change of clothes for us both. We are going to spend the night here.”

“How can we?” Elrohir objected reluctantly. “The feast later on – we should be there.” Given the choice between an evening of feasting and merriment, lavish food and wine, the company of Elladan, Arwen and Aragorn, and other dear friends – and a night with Legolas on a cold, bare spur of rock, dining on slightly dry bread and cheese – he would take Legolas every time. And, he added to himself, he intended to.

“You are smirking,” Legolas told him. “What are you thinking? Do not worry about the feast. I have already made our apologies to your brothers and sister, and we are not expected. We will not be missed tonight – they know where we are. Now, do you have any further objections?”

“None,” Elrohir said hoarsely. “What was that about a promise?” he managed to add.

In reply, Legolas dropped down onto the fur blanket, pulling Elrohir with him. “This,” he growled in response. He loosened the belt that held Elrohir’s robe closed, and slid his hand inside the folds. He brushed it gently across his chest, circling the nipples, then pulled the robe fully open. His mouth closed on Elrohir’s nipples, biting and sucking at them as Elrohir moaned beneath him. His hand drifted lower, over the flat stomach, then lower still. He stifled Elrohir’s cry as he squeezed softly, his fingers cupping and caressing, then his hand delved even lower, probing gently. Legolas stopped then, breaking off their kiss reluctantly, his breath hitching slightly. “Now?” he asked breathlessly.

Elrohir simply nodded in response, shrugging out of his clothing so that it lay pooled beneath him. At the same time Legolas stripped off his own robes, kneeling on the furs, his body gilded bronze in the setting sun. Elrohir caught his breath at the beauty before him, and stretched out one hand blindly to the abandoned bag, groping for the flask of oil he knew Legolas would have brought.

Legolas’s hand shook slightly as he poured a little of the oil into the palm of his hand, stroking it over himself and onto Elrohir as well. Then, with exquisite slowness, he pushed inside, placing a fierce kiss on Elrohir’s shoulder, intimately marking him, then moving to rain more kisses on Elrohir’s face and neck, his chest and shoulders. He stopped almost immediately, poised just inside, deliberately teasing. Then he withdrew completely, and pushed into Elrohir again. Elrohir moaned at the delicious torment, but this time Legolas did not stop, but slowly thrust deep inside him, bracing himself by placing his hands on Elrohir’s shoulders. They both cried out as Legolas sheathed himself fully, then stopped. Green eyes locked onto grey, then Legolas withdrew and thrust back in again. Elrohir gripped Legolas’s forearms tightly as he gave himself up to the hard, deep thrusts. He knew he could not hold out for long, and opened his mind to Legolas, feeling in this moment his thoughts and his exultation.

The combined sensation overwhelmed him, as he experienced both his own pleasure as Legolas thrust into him, penetrating ever deeper with each movement, driving him nearer and nearer to ecstasy. At the same time he felt Legolas revelling in the tightness and heat, his blind desire to spend himself deep inside Elrohir’s willing, eager body.

Climax rushed towards him, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream, arching his body towards Legolas as release flooded him. Legolas’s mouth came down on his, his tongue probing deeply, and he felt Legolas’s entire body tense and shudder, and a sudden slickness deep inside. With a harsh moan, Legolas thrust again, hard, and the slickness increased. Then his lover, his soulmate, fell against him; panting from their exertions, Elrohir still pinned beneath him. He could feel Legolas’s racing heartbeat against his chest, and the shudders that still racked both of them. At last Legolas rolled off him, drawing back to gaze down again. He lowered his head, and began to lick Elrohir clean, until all traces of his release were gone. There was no eroticism in the act this time; it was simply a gentle, deeply loving gesture. When he finished, Legolas lay next to him again, and turned to him for a long, gentle kiss. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “So much that it hurts. Never leave me, Elrohir.”

Elrohir could still taste himself on Legolas’s mouth and tongue. Licking his lips, he savoured the taste, and kissed Legolas again. “Never,” he promised. “I could not live without you. You know that.” Propping himself up on an elbow, he stared down at Legolas, reaching out to brush one hand against his hair, twirling the strands between his fingers. He smiled. “You were right, this is a wonderful place. It is perfect. No one can see us – no one can hear us. I never thought we could have this sort of privacy here in Minas Tirith; without fear of someone hearing or seeing or guessing something. And we have all night.” He noticed Legolas shiver slightly as the chill breeze cooled his sweat-damp skin. Elrohir wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, then reached out to pull one of the fur rugs over them, but Legolas stirred with a sigh and pulled away.

“If we stay here we will go to sleep,” he pointed out. “And I do not want to sleep – I have plans for this night other than sleeping!” He reached for the bag, dragging it closer, and groped inside, pulling out several items – a flask of wine, two cups, and a loaf of bread. He tossed one of the cups to Elrohir, then tore two chunks from the bread and threw one over as well.

Clad in nothing but a fur rug draped around the two of them, perched on the highest pinnacle of the city and dining on bread and wine, cheese and apples, it was perhaps the oddest picnic they had ever had. It was certainly the most pleasurable and memorable. Elrohir’s body still throbbed with the rapture of Legolas’s lovemaking, and he felt the familiar languid lassitude of the aftermath.

It was dark now, and far below them the lights of Minas Tirith shone out from lamps, lanterns and candles; from windows and doorways; from humble cottages built into the walls of the first level to the grand halls of the king and his courtiers on the seventh level. Down there in the Hall of the Kings, there was talk and laughter, song, music and dancing. Elrohir looked around at the bleak, barren rock, and the bare peaks of Mindolluin towering above them. The bitter wind blew chill about them. He looked at Legolas, watching him silently over the rim of his cup, and knew there was nowhere in all of Middle Earth he would rather be.

~The End~

Return To Helm's Deep (R; Elrohir/Legolas)

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 17:06:26 GMT

Written for the tripledogdare 'Not-so-good-sex' challenge. After the battle of Helm's Deep Legolas and Elrohir are reunited - but the night does not go as planned. Based as closely as possible on the chapter 'The Passing Of The Grey Company'.

Return To Helm’s Deep

As dusk fell, Legolas left the hall and walked up onto the battlements. In the three days since the battle the dead had all been removed for burial, and the orcs flung into pits and burned. But the stones were still stained with blood, and pieces of armour and shattered weapons littered the ground.

He climbed higher, away from the gate. Here the fighting had been less fierce and there were fewer signs to remind him. On the highest tower of the battlements he paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, rain scented air and feeling the breeze in his hair. Here, he was free of the clustered humanity crowded into the halls of the Hornburg below, and the weight of the mighty towers and walls of stone seemed less oppressive.

“I thought I would find you up here.”

Legolas turned, a slow smile spreading across his face and filling his heart. “Elrohir. I wanted to come to you at once, but I knew there was much you had to discuss with Aragorn.”

Elrohir nodded. “There still is, but Elladan can deliver the rest of our messages. I wanted to see you – I could not wait any longer.” He moved closer. “I was worried for you,” he murmured. “Word reached us that Mithrandir had fallen, then there were rumours that Boromir too had been slain. It was not until I saw you that I knew for sure you were still alive.”

Legolas stepped closer, sliding his hands beneath Elrohir’s cloak and around his waist. For long time he simply stood there, drawing strength and comfort from his mate, and offering it too. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

Elrohir stirred against him, and captured his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. Elrohir’s face and lips were cold, and wet from the misty drizzle that had begun to fall. Beads of moisture clung to his hair like tiny diamonds, glinting in the faint light of distant torches. At last he drew back, caressing Legolas’s face with the back of his hand. “You look weary.”

Legolas nodded, exhausted. “I am. I dislike this place – it is too bleak, too barren.”

“The others are resting – you should be too,” Elrohir chided him.

“No,” Legolas protested. “I cannot sleep here. The weight of stone is oppressive, and the very walls cry out in anguish and sorrow at the lies lost here. The stones still reek of their blood!”

Elrohir smiled. “Then let me be your comfort,” he murmured. “We do not have long. There are only a few hours left until dawn, and Aragorn plans to ride out then. When we are on the road we will have few moments of privacy.”

“Long enough then,” Legolas whispered, “for what I have in mind.” Unfastening his cloak he spread it on the cold, wet stone in the shelter of a deep embrasure and drew Elrohir down beside him.

Elrohir cast his own cloak over them as shelter from the icy drizzle. Beneath its warm folds he clutched Legolas to him, his mouth devouring. Legolas gave himself up to the fierce embrace until Elrohir’s hands reached a tender spot and he could not help giving a sharp hiss of pain. “What is it? Elrohir demanded. “Are you injured?”

Legolas shook his head. “Nay, not injured. Just bruised. An orc’s spear came a little too close for comfort!”

“A spear? Are you sure you are not injured? Let me see!” Without waiting for an answer, Elrohir loosened the tunic and pushed it up and off, his hands searching and probing.

“There is no need – Ara … ahhh,” Legolas stopped trying to point out that Aragorn had already tended to the swelling and bruising on his shoulder. Elrohir’s hands were far gentler, the hands of a lover as well as a healer. The touch soothed and eased the ache, warmth spreading from his fingertips. “Mmm – nice,” Legolas murmured. “It feels better already.” Elrohir did not stop the soothing massage, and Legolas began to relax beneath his touch as the stiffness of sore muscles and the strain of battle, grief and the long chase across the grasslands of Rohan were eased.

Here with Elrohir at his side even the looming weight of stone seemed less oppressive. Snug and warm beneath the cloak, the gentle patter of rain and the muffled boom of the wind lulled him into dreams, and he slept.

o-o-o

Elrohir slowed the gentle caress of his hands. “Legolas? Legolas?” There was no response, and he sighed. Damn. This was not at all how he had imagined spending the night. He ached and burned with need, but that would simply have to wait. Leaning forward he kissed Legolas gently on the brow. “Sleep, then. I will guard your dreams.” He lay down by Legolas’s side to watch over him as he slept.

Legolas finally awoke with the grey light of dawn, and stretched with a sigh. Turning, he propped himself on an elbow to look down at Elrohir. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I did not intend to do that – sleep was the last thing on my mind when I first saw you!”

Elrohir smiled. “It does not matter,” he replied. “You needed the rest more, I think. And I think,” – he looked up at the clouded skies above them – “I think we still have a short while before we must leave.”

“Time enough, then,” Legolas responded. He brought his hands back beneath the cloak, slipping one underneath Elrohir’s tunic and unfastening the ties on his breeches with the other.

Elrohir gave a low gasp of pleasure as icy fingertips glided across his chest and then slid lower. The contrast of Legolas’s warm mouth following the same trail made him moan more loudly, and he lifted his hips, pushing his leggings down impatiently. The cold hand that caressed his erection sent delicious sensations racing through him, and he ran his tongue across Legolas’s ear, smiling as he felt him shudder in delight. “Gods,” Elrohir whispered, his voice rough. “I missed you so much.”

But before they could take things further, the clump of heavy boots approached, a deep voice bellowed, “Legolas! Where are you, you blasted elf?” and Gimli appeared around the corner of the wall. “Ah – there you are!” he snorted. “Whatever are you doing up here, elf?” Then he stopped, staring at them, and cleared his throat. “Hmph! Leastways, it’s obvious what you’re doing! You and – and – and …” His voice died away, and he spun around, turning his back on them.

Legolas sighed, and began to sit up. Elrohir placed a restraining hand on his chest, remembering the confrontation at the Council. “You cannot kill the dwarf, not even for this!” he hissed in warning.

Legolas grinned. “I am not going to kill him,” he whispered back. “Gimli and I have resolved our differences – we are friends now.” He pushed Elrohir’s hand away, and sat up. “This is Elrohir. We are lovers, Gimli,” he said to the dwarf’s back.

“Hmph! So I see. I had no idea – I’m sorry, laddie. I wouldn’t have interrupted you if I’d known!” He cleared his throat again. “Yes. Well. I – I’ll leave you to it.” He stumped off, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the stone.

Legolas sighed. “If Gimli is looking for me, it must be time to go.” He looked at Elrohir regretfully.

Elrohir groaned in frustration. Once again he was hard and aching with desire, with no chance of release. “Do you have to go now?” he pleaded.

“Well …” Legolas’s hands caressed him again. “We must be quick,” he breathed.

“Yes …”

In the distance, they heard Gimli stop and greet someone. “I’d not go nearer, if I was you!” he warned.

Elrohir groaned again, and pushed Legolas away. It was no good. “It is Elladan. If he has come to find us, it must be important. We must go.” He stood, pulling Legolas to his feet and they exchanged a last swift kiss. “Later,” he promised. “Elladan and I will ride with Aragorn now, wherever his path takes him. Will you come too?”

“Aye. Always.” Legolas vowed. “I would not be parted from you again. Let us ride.”

Together they went down to where Elladan waited, ready to ride on the next part of their journey.

The End

Drabble: 'Uncharted' (Legolas/Elrohir; R)

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 12:47:45 GMT

A first time between Legolas and Elrohir as new lovers. Written for the tolkien_weekly 'Uncharted' challenge.

Uncharted

Full of the joy of discovery, he moved closer with a single slow step, raising one hand to cup Elrohir’s head before claiming his mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss. New to both of them, this was a journey of exploration for both body and spirit.

Elrohir’s hands unfastened the ties on his shirt, pushing the light fabric away then roaming in gentle search over his burning skin. Encouraged by soft murmurs and whispers his own lips sought hidden trails and undiscovered secrets as his hands roamed lower, and he began to map the uncharted territory of his lover’s body.

Jay

Dearest Legolas

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 23:38:30 GMT

Elrohir writes to his absent lover. Rated G, but slash implied.

Written for the 10_letterschallenge, prompt: 'Seasons'

Imladris, 3 Nárië, 1130

Dearest Legolas,

Though it is but a few days since your departure, it feels far longer – and it will be longer still until I can see you once more. I fear it will be several long years at the very least.

I know from bitter experience that these first few days are the hardest, and it will grow easier – but I miss you, my love. I miss your company, I miss your laughter. I miss the simple pleasure of sleeping by your side – and I miss the even greater pleasures when we do not sleep!

Elladan is growing irritated with me – he says he does not expect my full attention while you are here, but had hoped to see more of me now. He is fed up with my ‘moping’, as he puts it. He says that, but when I grow melancholy he is there with a bottle of wine, a laugh and a smile to distract me from my sorrows.

I do not know when I will be able to travel to Lasgalen to visit you – one summer, perhaps; when the long days and warm nights seem endless. Or autumn, so that we may make a true celebration of your begetting day. Winter, maybe – with the possibility of blizzards making us snowbound, so that I will be forced – very reluctantly, of course – to prolong my stay. Whatever the season, the years cannot pass quickly enough.

Stay safe, my love.

Until we meet again I am now and always,

Your Elrohir

Knots (Elrohir/Legolas; NC17)

Fri, 01 Feb 2008 16:29:35 GMT

Another older story, slightly edited from the original version (and with a new title).

Knots

“I have you at my mercy now,” Elrohir murmured as he tied the last silken scarf in place. He sat back and gazed down at the results of his handiwork. Legolas was spread naked and willing upon the bed, his wrists tied to the bars of the bed head, his green eyes pine-dark with desire.

Legolas writhed, testing his restraints unsuccessfully, but gave his lover a slow, sensuous smile. “You think so?”

Elrohir nodded with satisfaction. “I know I do,” he said smugly. “I know that when I do this,” – starting at Legolas’s ear, he placed a series of light kisses along his neck and down his throat, humming slightly – “you cannot resist me. I know that when I do this,” – he swirled his tongue over a dark nipple, then blew on it, forcing a low groan from Legolas – “you will soon be begging me to take you. And I know that when I do this,” – he nipped gently with his teeth, then bit a little harder – “I will make you scream my name as you come.”

Legolas moaned deep in his throat at the exquisite sensations Elrohir was provoking in him. “You seem to know a lot. More than is good for you, I guess,” he gasped. He writhed again, then gave a sudden grin of triumph. “But did you know that you cannot tie knots, my love?” With a sudden deft twist, he slipped one wrist free of the scarf binding him and turned, pinning Elrohir beneath him. “Now I have you at my mercy,” he breathed. “Now who will scream and beg to be taken?”

Elrohir stared up at his partner. The tables had been turned very swiftly, and his wrists were now held firmly above his head, held in Legolas’s strong grip. In the next instant his legs were pushed apart unceremoniously, and Legolas leaned down, covering his mouth in a hard kiss as he thrust in deeply. Elrohir gasped at the sudden invasion, and bit back a cry of rapture at Legolas’s passionate fervour.

As Legolas thrust again, Elrohir arched against him, forcing Legolas deeper, and wrapped his legs around Legolas’s waist, holding him there. Legolas’s moan was muffled, and with another hard, deep thrust he came with a sobbing cry. Elrohir felt the hard spurt as Legolas’s seed filled him, then he too was calling Legolas’s name, shuddering as his own orgasm shook him.

Afterwards, they lay together, gasping, Legolas still buried deeply in his body, his not quite sated length still twitching slightly. Elrohir turned his head slightly, running his tongue over Legolas’s ear, smiling as he felt Legolas’s shaft stir again inside him. “I knew you would not be able to resist me,” he murmured. “I told you that I would make you scream my name.”

Legolas raised his head, still a little dazed. “You mean – you planned that?”

Elrohir nodded with deep satisfaction. “Oh yes – I planned that all along.” He grinned. “Do you really think I cannot tie knots securely?”

The End

Conception Day Gifts (Elrohir/Legolas; NC17)

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 15:41:30 GMT

I'm gradually adding my older slash stories to this site. This was the first I ever wrote!

Legolas arrives in Imladris to help celebrate a special begetting day for the twins.

Conception Day Gifts

Wearily, Elrohir pushed open the door to his room, then closed it behind him. Dumping his pack on the floor, he crossed to the bathing room, dripping muddy water on the floor as he went.

He and Elladan had just returned from a two-week long patrol around the borders and outlying lands surrounding Imladris, during some of the coldest, foulest, wettest spring weather he could recall. The torrential rain that had soaked him to the skin had somehow completely failed to remove the mud that splattered him liberally from head to toe. They had taken the time to make a rather brief report to Elrond, and greet Celebrían and Arwen – carefully – before heading to their rooms to bathe, eat, and fall into an exhausted sleep. He was at least grateful that despite the delays they had encountered, he and his brother had arrived home in time for their conception anniversary the next day; a special day; when they celebrated their first millennia. He was bitterly disappointed though, that one who he had hoped desperately would be here had apparently not arrived. Be reasonable, he chided himself. Only a fool would travel in this weather. Do you want him caught in a mudslide, or worse? Stop being so selfish.

The lure of clean, fresh water; warm and fragrant, beckoned to him, and he blessed whoever had seen their approach and drawn the bath for him. Stripping off his sodden, filthy clothes he dropped them into a heap on the stone floor and stepped into the deep water. It was hot, but not too hot – perfect for driving out the damp chill that seemed to have penetrated bone-deep in the last two weeks, and easing the stiffness of his wrenched shoulder. He relaxed mindlessly for a few minutes, his thoughts blank, then submerged completely, soaking the dirt from his hair.

By the time he finally felt totally clean, the water was cooling, and he decided reluctantly that it was time to move. Reaching out one hand, he realised belatedly that there was no towel within reach, and cursed his lack of foresight.

“Is this what you are looking for?” an amused voice asked lightly.

Startled, Elrohir sat up, turning to the door. He was amazed that someone had been able to enter without him being aware of it – he must be even more tired than he realised. Then he smiled with delight – his unexpected visitor was one of only a handful who could approach him unawares like this. “Legolas!” he exclaimed in joy.

Legolas stood only feet away, holding the elusive towel at arm’s length. Elrohir stood, water cascading from his body, and stepped out, reaching for the towel. Instead of passing it over, Legolas threw it aside and enveloped Elrohir in his own embrace.

“I will get you wet,” Elrohir protested half-heartedly. He made no attempt to move though, and returned the embrace with a sigh of pleasure, content for the moment as they simply held one another. At length he drew reluctantly away, giving Legolas a light kiss, and picked up the discarded towel. “When did you get here?” he asked, as he wrapped the towel around himself and wrung water from his hair. “I feared you would not make it in time.”

Legolas smiled. “The day before yesterday. I asked your father not to say anything when you saw him – I wanted to surprise you.”

“You certainly did. A most pleasant surprise, I might add.” He kissed Legolas again, lingeringly. “It is wonderful to see you again – I missed you,” he murmured. As they emerged from the bathing room, he saw with further surprise that a table had been placed before the fire, set with plates and glasses, heated platters, and a decanter holding a deep red wine. “Did you do all this?” he asked.

“I did indeed. I asked Erestor if we could have our meal here – I thought you may not want to go down to the main hall tonight.” Legolas looked rather smug.

Elrohir smiled appreciatively. “You thought right.” He dried off, and dressed in a loose black robe with threads of silver embroidery. Sitting at the table, he began to investigate the various platters, and sniffed at the decanter. “Dorwinion?” He glanced at Legolas, one eyebrow raised in surprise.

“Dorwinion,” Legolas agreed. “My father’s conception day gift to you both. It is a special occasion, after all.”

Elrohir’s face fell. “We should share it with Elladan, then,” he pointed out a little reluctantly. Although the three of them often ate together when Legolas visited Imladris, tonight he did not want to share Legolas with anyone, not after their long separation.

Legolas laughed. “As fond as I am of your brother, I would rather spend the evening with just the two of us. There is another bottle for Elladan in my pack.” He poured two deep goblets, and raised his own to Elrohir. “To us,” he said simply. “Ten years is a long time. I missed you, too.” They drank, and began to talk of all they had done in that time, renewing their friendship as much as their bond. An hour passed swiftly, before they recalled the specially-prepared meal, fortunately still warm on the heated platters.

They ate, savouring the delicacy and variety of dishes. Elrohir, after two weeks of trail rations, was particularly hungry. He and Elladan tended to take it in turns to cook their evening meal when on patrol, and both did it well, but game had been scarce, and the hunting slim. Also, they never took wine with them, relying on water alone, and the Dorwinion was a very welcome treat. “Your father gave you two bottles? He must be mellowing,” Elrohir commented. “I thought he did not altogether approve of our relationship?”

Legolas shrugged. “It is true he would be happier if my heart had been given to your sister,” he admitted. “He would be planning the wedding even now! But he likes you well enough, you know that.” He sighed. “He regrets that I will never have elflings – he would have made a wonderful daeradar.” He glanced down at his plate. “It is my only regret, too.”

Elrohir took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know,” he said tenderly. “It is easier for me; Elladan and Arwen will both eventually have children, so my parents will have their grandelflings; and I can share in them, as you can. It must be hard for Thranduil.”

His hand was suddenly gripped tightly between both of Legolas’s. “I would not change anything,” he said vehemently. “You know that. You know how I love you, Elrohir. Let me show you again.”

Elrohir nodded, his throat dry. This was what he had missed. Legolas’s passion, as much as his companionship. Quickly, they stacked the plates and dishes onto trays, placing them outside the door for collection. “We will not be disturbed now,” Elrohir murmured, as he shut the door firmly. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

“This.” Legolas pushed him down onto the bed, kneeling over him and pushing the robe aside. “My conception day gift to you.” He kissed Elrohir, gently at first, then with increasing passion. Elrohir stopped him briefly, unfastening the laces of his breeches and the clasp on his tunic and Legolas stilled momentarily as his tunic was pulled off. Elrohir took the opportunity to run his hands lightly over Legolas’s chest, but Legolas shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured. He slid his breeches down, and kicked them off into a corner. They were now both unencumbered by clothing, and Elrohir found Legolas’s merest touch enticing, as his hand slid across Elrohir’s cheek, along his neck and round to cup the back of his head.

Elrohir shuddered as his lover’s fingers brushed against the tip of his ear. “More,” he whispered. He felt Legolas’s other hand drifting downward, across his chest, circling both nipples, down across his stomach, to his hip, then lower still to his legs. Legolas caressed the sensitive spot at the back of his knee, then drew his hand higher, along the skin of his inner thigh, using gentle, butterfly-light touches that inflamed Elrohir.

Elrohir gave a low moan, but when he tried again to return the caresses, Legolas gently moved his hand away once more. “No touching. This is my gift, remember,” he whispered. Moving his head, Legolas began to use his considerable skill, his mouth, his lips, tongue and teeth, biting, nipping, sucking, licking and kissing every inch of exposed flesh. His hands, too roamed everywhere, ranging from gentle caresses and feathery touches to a sharp pinching that was exquisite torture.

Initially, Elrohir found it frustrating that he was not permitted to participate more actively, but before long he was helpless to do more than moan and gasp beneath the relentless onslaught. There was only one part of him that was not limp with passion and longing – his arousal was almost painfully hard, and was the one part Legolas had omitted from his loving exploration.

Finally, their mouths joined again, and this time Legolas heeded his lover’s desperate pleading. His hand gripped Elrohir’s arousal at last, his thumb brushing again the tip, and he began to stroke firmly. It took only seconds. With a harsh cry, stifled by Legolas’s hard mouth, Elrohir came, a convulsive shudder shaking his body from head to toe. He grasped Legolas to him tightly, returning the kiss passionately until at last he fell back against the bed, utterly spent.

Legolas moved to lay beside him, propped on one elbow, watching him with immense satisfaction. “Thank you,” the blond prince murmured.

Surprised, Elrohir turned his head. “Why are you thanking me?” he asked, when he had regained enough breath to speak. “I think it should be the other way around. That was – amazing.”

“Because I love to do that to you,” Legolas explained simply. “I love knowing that no one else has that effect on you, and never will.”

“No. No one else,” Elrohir agreed softly. “Only you.” He smiled suddenly, as an evil thought struck him. “You said something about this being a conception day gift? Does that mean you intend to give my brother the same gift again?”

There was a snort beside him. “No. Absolutely not.” Legolas continued to gaze at Elrohir, rather reflectively. “It is odd,” he mused. “You have the same faces, the same bodies. I have seen Elladan naked often enough when we have swum or bathed together – yet I have never felt the slightest flicker of desire for him. You, on the other hand …” He shrugged. “It is odd that you are so similar, yet so different.” He turned, laying now with his back to Elrohir, pressing close.

As Elrohir held Legolas against himself, his hands traced lazy circles on his chest, brushing gently over the soft skin. Pushing the golden hair aside, he placed a trail of kisses down the back of his neck and along his shoulder as Legolas gave a soft sigh. He realised belatedly that although he himself had found release, Legolas was still hard. One hand moved down to caress the thick shaft, and Legolas’s breath quavered slightly. Between kisses, and running his tongue across the sensitive spot below his lover’s ear – a place he recalled had always given Legolas intense pleasure – he whispered tender words. “What, my love, would you have me do? You brought me to such ecstasy – how shall I please you? Tell me what you desire.”

Legolas did not respond immediately, and Elrohir maintained his gentle caresses. “Hmm? Tell me. What would give you greatest pleasure now?”

There was a soft laugh. “If you still can – if I have not exhausted you – I would like you to make love to me. Like this. I love to feel you so close. Of course, if you are too tired …” his voice fell away suggestively.

“I am not that tired!” Elrohir retorted firmly. “Wait here a moment.” He rose from the bed, and rummaged in his pack, still where he had dropped it by the door. From the healing kit he extracted a small jar, nearly full with a pale-coloured cream. Unscrewing the top, he took a little on his fingers, and began to gently massage Legolas’s shoulders and back, moving fractionally lower with each broad sweep of his hands. As his fingers kneaded, he felt Legolas relax completely against him, and smiled. His love had always found this intensely arousing. One hand now went lower still, a slick finger probing at the hidden entrance. The massage had worked its usual magic, and his finger slid easily inside. He maintained the soothing massage, interspersing his touch with kisses, and slid another finger inside. Legolas gave a low murmur of protest at the slow pace Elrohir was setting, but he ignored it. He intended to do this at a leisurely rate, to prolong the pleasure for both of them. After so long apart, there was no hurry – and they had all night. Elrohir knew, too, that after the devastating climax Legolas had bestowed on him, he would need to time to recover. Legolas’s teasing comment about having exhausted him was not far off the mark.

At last he relented and carefully withdrew his fingers, moving a little closer. Slicking his shaft with a little more of the herb-scented cream, he pushed inside very, very slowly. He had to stop after a moment, taking a deep breath to maintain control over the exquisite sensations racing through him. Legolas wrecked that control. “By the Valar, Elrohir, do not torture me so!” he moaned, and pushed back firmly, forcing Elrohir deeply into him. Their gasps were perfectly synchronised, and Legolas twisted his head round to kiss him again.

Elrohir managed to maintain the slow, languid pace, thrusting gently in an easy rocking motion he knew he could maintain for some time. Wave upon wave of sensual pleasure began to build up in slow ripples, rising ever higher, and Elrohir began to stroke Legolas’s arousal again. He tightened the arm still wrapped around his lover, pulling him even closer, feeling his breathing quicken. They were both close to the edge now, and suddenly Legolas arched backwards, his head against Elrohir’s shoulder, moaning incoherently. With a final deep thrust, they came together, as the waves of passion crested and broke. Elrohir leaned forward to lap again at the hollow just below Legolas’s ear and blew gently, smiling as his entire body trembled and jerked again.

Still shuddering with the aftershocks, still joined, they lay together, sated, as breathing and heart-rates slowly returned to normal. At last, with a soft sigh, Elrohir moved, withdrawing gently. Legolas turned, still within the circle of his arms, and with a final loving kiss they drifted into dreams

o-o-o

Legolas awoke the next morning as the early sun shone in on him. The foul weather of the previous weeks had finally cleared, and the air at last had the soft warmth of spring. He thought back to the previous night with satisfaction – he and Elrohir had more than made up for the long separation they had endured. He turned to gaze again on Elrohir. At some point in the night they had moved apart, and Elrohir now lay on his front, his eyes still glazed and vacant in sleep. One foot hung over the side of the bed, and Legolas was tempted to brush his finger across the bare sole, knowing it to be a ticklish spot. He resisted, instead moving silently from the bed to draw a bath, washing away the stickiness that still coated his stomach and thighs, removing all evidence of the night’s activities.

When he returned, Elrohir was still asleep. This time, Legolas gave in to the temptation and stroked the bare foot lightly, smiling as it twitched. Then he frowned. Elrohir’s right shoulder was marked with dark, widespread bruises and grazing. He sat at his side, gently running his fingers over the ugly marks in concern. Elrohir stirred beneath his touch, and turned his head to smile at Legolas. “Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning,” Legolas returned. He leaned down to kiss Elrohir, first on the mouth, then on his injured shoulder. “And happy begetting day. Elrohir, what have you done to your shoulder? It looks badly bruised.” He touched it lightly again, tracing the sharp outline of bone.

Elrohir rolled over and sat up, flexing his shoulder carefully. “It is nothing. A fall, coming down a steep path a few days ago. El has been rubbing in some of that salve to ease it, so I could still use my sword.” Then he groaned, falling back onto the bed, his eyes closed. “Oh, no. Elladan!” He sounded frustrated, and sighed. “Poor Elladan.”

“Why ‘poor Elladan’?” Legolas asked curiously.

Elrohir opened one eye. “You know how close we are. How we can tell if the other is troubled, or injured.” As Legolas nodded, Elrohir continued: “Well, that closeness extends to other things, too. Like sensing pain – or strong emotions …”

“Ah. Oh. Yes, ‘poor Elladan’ indeed. That could be awkward.”

“Poor El. I should have shielded him – I can keep my thoughts to myself when I try, but I have to think about it,” Elrohir explained. “Last night, I was not thinking at all,” he confessed.

Legolas again began to rub Elrohir’s shoulder, massaging in the cream they had used before, kneading the tense muscles to relax them. Elrohir sighed. “That feels better,” he murmured. “It was getting rather stiff again.” He rolled over, and gave a wicked grin of appreciation. “My shoulder is not the only thing, I see!”

Legolas flushed a little. The pleasure of running his hands over Elrohir’s smooth skin, watching him writhe as a particularly tense spot was eased, feeling the firm muscles; together with the heady scent of the cream, had all had an unintentional result. He was achingly hard again.

Elrohir drew Legolas closer. “Come here,” he said simply, drawing his knees up. “Now.” He rolled across the bed, pulling Legolas with him, until they were facing in opposite directions. Legolas gasped as he felt Elrohir’s mouth engulf his erection, lips and tongue swirling around the tip, then swallowing him deeply. He matched the motions at first, then delved lower, his tongue probing gently at the tight entrance. Elrohir stiffened in his embrace, uttering a low moan, and Legolas probed more deeply, feeling the tense muscles relax and give way to him. Elrohir’s groan deepened, sending delicious ripples through his erection, and the steady motion of Elrohir’s mouth faltered. “Enough. Come here,” he repeated in a whisper.

With a smooth, practised movement, Legolas twisted around until he knelt over Elrohir. Taking the jar of cream in a hand that shook slightly, he smeared a little on them both and thrust in deeply in one smooth stroke. There had been minimal preparation, and he searched Elrohir’s face for any signs of discomfort – but his sigh of pleasure dismissed any concerns. He withdrew almost completely, then thrust back again, hard.

Their coupling this time was fast and fierce, totally unlike the slow, sensual love-making of the night before. There was no slow build-up of passion, but a rapid escalation of pure ecstasy. Elrohir’s hands and mouth ranged everywhere he could reach, pinching and biting, driving Legolas to his peak almost immediately. He tried desperately to hold back, but Elrohir’s ministrations made it impossible. A hard, biting kiss on one nipple was his undoing, and he felt Elrohir’s legs twine about his, pulling him even closer as he came, driving deeply and spilling himself with a cry that was nearly a sob. Still racked with shudders, he licked at the tip of Elrohir’s ear, grazing it with his teeth, knowing exactly what to do to provoke orgasm. He nipped again as Elrohir cried out, and felt the sudden splash of warmth between their stomachs and the hard, clenching spasms that caressed his shaft, driving him to an unprecedented second peak.

They lay together, arms and legs entwined, panting and drenched in sweat. Legolas knew he had to move, to wash and dress, ready to greet the world again, but he was deeply reluctant to release Elrohir from his embrace. At last he lifted his head a little. “Did you manage to prevent Elladan sensing that?” he asked.

Elrohir nodded tiredly. “Yes, but there was little point. He will have heard – you were rather loud, my love.” He chuckled.

“You were not exactly quiet yourself,” Legolas pointed out. “I thought we were normally more discreet – I hope no-one else was within earshot. It could be rather embarrassing.”

“El and I have this corridor to ourselves, fortunately.” Elrohir unwrapped himself reluctantly. “I have to get up. We have to get up. I need to bath – again – and we will be expected to take breakfast with my parents this morning.”

Legolas was nearly dressed when there was a tap on the door that led to the sitting room the twins shared. Elladan opened it and peered in. “Is it safe to come in?” he asked with a grin.

Elrohir appeared from the bathing room, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Good morning, El. Happy begetting day!”

“And to you, little brother.” The twins hugged one another, then Elladan turned to greet Legolas. “Welcome, my friend. I heard you had come.”

“Yes, I arrived two days ago –” Legolas began. He broke off when Elrohir cuffed his brother gently.

“Behave yourself, brother!” he admonished. “There was no need for that!”

Belatedly, Legolas caught the hidden meaning of Elladan’s words, and saw his smug grin. He blushed. Elladan had accepted the changed relationship between his twin and his closest friend with delight, but was not above a little gentle teasing at their expense at times. “Did we disturb you?”

Elladan grinned again. “Only three times. Do not worry – father warned me you were here. I took a large goblet of wine to bed with me last night. It helped.”

“That reminds me.” Legolas delved into his pack, finding the second flask of Dorwinion from his father. He presented it to Elladan.

“Happy conception day, my friends.”

The End

Fic: Erestor's Begetting Day (PG13; Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor/Glorfindel)

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 19:23:35 GMT

The prequel to 'A Day to Remember'. Elladan and Elrohir plan a special birthday surprise for Erestor. Just fun and fluff, originally written for Aglarien's birthday.

Erestor’s Begetting Day

The twins crept silently along the corridor that led to Erestor’s rooms. As they paused outside the door, Elrohir turned to his brother. “Do you think ‘Restor will like his begetting day treat, El?”

Elladan looked down at the tray he had carried so carefully all the way from the kitchens. “Of course he will!” he whispered back. “His favourite mug, a pot of tea, warm bread and a special little jar of honey. All his favourites.”

“But he doesn’t like waking up too early,” Elrohir worried. “What if he’s cross?”

Elladan hesitated. It was true that Erestor could be grumpy and bad tempered in the mornings. “I know! If he’s still asleep, we get Glorfindel to do it. He won’t mind then. Listen by the door, El. If it’s quiet, and they’re asleep, we creep in so we don’t disturb them.” He shifted his grip on the tray, then grinned. “And if they’re awake, we jump in and shout surprise!”

Elrohir pressed his ear to the heavy oak door. A slightly muffled voice drifted through to them – it sounded like Erestor was excited. “Yes, Glorfindel!”

He nodded. “They’re awake – I can hear voices! I think Glorfindel’s giving him something.”

“Good – then let’s surprise them!”

Elrohir threw the door open and leapt into the room, while Elladan followed more carefully with the heavy tray. “Erestor! Happy begetting day!” they chorused. “Did we surprise you?”

The two elves on the bed turned towards them, frozen in a close embrace. Elrohir grinned happily.

“Glorfindel! Are you giving ‘Restor a special treat as well?”

The End

Fic: A Day To Remember (NC17; Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir)

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 19:18:54 GMT

This was originally supposed to be for the tripledogdare bad!sex challenge - but I'm too impatient to wait a month before posting.

Erestor's delightful morning awakening is rudely interrupted ...

A Day To Remember

Erestor awoke to the delicious sensation of lips softly nuzzling at his shoulder, then lazily drifting upwards to nibble at his ear. He gave a low moan of pleasure and snuggled back, closer into Glorfindel’s warm embrace, feeling a welcome hardness pressing against his thigh.

“Mmm – nice,” he mumbled.

“Good morning, my love,” Glorfindel murmured into his ear, his breath soft and warm. “It is your begetting day – and I would make it a day to remember.”

Erestor turned to face him, and grinned. “Hmm – I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?”

“This.”

Lips again caressed Erestor’s neck, his throat, gliding down in a gentle trail that left his skin tingling. Then Glorfindel’s lips drifted lower still, circling his navel before a tongue dipped into it, warm and wet. Erestor gave another low groan. “Aye – that feels divine!”

Glorfindel chuckled, blowing on the damp flesh and raising goosebumps. “You like it?” he enquired, raising his head to smile at Erestor.

“Love it,” Erestor responded, pulling Glorfindel down into passionate kiss. “Love you,” he added eventually.

“Gods, Erestor,” Glorfindel murmured, sounding breathless. “Tis your day – what do you want? Me? You?”

Although the thought of burying himself deep inside his blond warrior was tempting, that promising hardness still pressed against him was far too enticing. “I want you,” he replied. “Now.”

With a languorous deliberation, Glorfindel slicked his shaft from the vial of oil that always stood ready by the bed. His slow, purposeful movements made Erestor ache with desire, and in the end he caught at Glorfindel’s hand. “Enough teasing,” he murmured. “I want you now.”

Glorfindel took him at his word, thrusting in hard and deep with a force that made him see stars. He arched up with a cry. “Yes, Glorfindel!”

Suddenly there was a crash as the door burst open. There, to his shock, stood Elladan and Elrohir – clutching, of all things, a tray.

“Erestor! Happy begetting day!” they chorused. “Did we surprise you?”

Erestor and Glorfindel turned towards them in horror, momentarily frozen. Erestor closed his eyes with a whispered prayer, but when he opened them again the twins were still there. He had hoped it was a bad dream.

“Glorfindel! Are you giving ‘Restor a special treat as well?”

Glorfindel rolled away, making an odd choking sound. Erestor sat up, clutching the sheet tightly around his waist. Glorfindel lay with his face buried in the pillows, his shoulders shaking slightly. Erestor hoped he was laughing.

“Did we surprise you?” Elladan asked again.

Erestor nodded numbly. “You certainly did,” he agreed.

“We made you a special breakfast!” Elrohir explained. “Look!”

Erestor could not help smiling as he saw the tray, so carefully set. There was a pot of tea, a loaf of deliciously fragrant bread, a jar of honey – and even his favourite cup. He smiled at the twins, so eager and pleased with themselves. “Thank you, he said warmly. “Thank you very much – what a lovely surprise! But – ” he hesitated, not wanting to dampen their enthusiasm. “Next time, could you knock first? Glorfindel and I might be – busy.”

Elladan nodded. “Of course we will, Erestor. Was Glorfindel giving you something?”

There was another odd noise at Erestor’s side. He ignored it – Glorfindel was being no help at all.

Elrohir eyed them both. “Is Glorfindel all right?” he asked.

“Glorfindel is fine!” Erestor replied, kicking him under the sheets. “Just put the tray down – I will get it in a minute. And thank you. It was a lovely idea of yours.”

As the door closed behind them, Glorfindel surfaced, bright-eyed with laughter. “Please tell me that did not just happen!” he pleaded. “They brought you breakfast?”

“Yes! Look – tea, fresh bread, honey …”

“Erestor. Forget the tray. Come here.” Glorfindel pulled him down and thrust into him again with a deep groan. “Ah … yes …”

The door flew open again. Erestor closed his eyes, hiding behind the veil of Glorfindel’s hair. Blessed Valar, this could not be happening again, surely?

“Glorfindel! We forgot a cup for you – here it is!”

“Just – put it on the tray,” Glorfindel gasped.

Erestor heard the door shut again. “Have they gone?” he asked warily.

“Yes!” Glorfindel grunted, driving in again desperately.

The door opened one last time. “Sorry – we forgot to knock, didn’t we? Sorry!”

Erestor fell back limply, the final interruption too much for him. Instead of the explosive release of orgasm, his desire had fizzled out like a damp squib, fading and dying like his arousal. Glorfindel collapsed against him with a groan of despair, as his passion and need likewise drained away, vanishing like mist on a summer’s morning. “No … sorry, Erestor …”

Erestor held him close, frustrated and disappointed. Then he began to laugh quietly. “Well – you were right in one thing. This is certainly a begetting day to remember!”

The End

(There's a prequel to this, 'Erestor's Begetting Day', from the twins' POV. They have no idea what they've just interrupted ...)

Honey In The Wrong Places (Elrohir/Legolas, R)

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 12:42:06 GMT

I'm going through some of my other slash stories, and gradually adding them here. This was written for the hall_of_books challenge, title #91 'Honey In The Wrong Places'. When I saw the title, Elrohir and Legolas came and told me this little tale ...

It takes place immediately before the Council of Elrond.

Honey In The Wrong Places

Elrohir awoke with a start at the sound of a single clear bell ringing through the house. He swore as he saw the sun already well risen, and flung back the bedcovers, exposing the long, lithe body at his side, still deep in sated slumber. “Legolas!” he hissed, shaking him. “Wake up! ‘Tis time for the Council!”

After so long apart, and their wholly unexpected reunion, he had loved Legolas long and well the previous night. As a result, they had both slept late, and there was now no time to bathe or even wash. He dressed swiftly, pulling a brush through his hair and braiding it roughly, and shook Legolas again. “Wake!” he urged.

Without waiting for his soulmate to rouse – he could not be late – he opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor straight into Elladan’s path. His twin gazed at him, then his mouth quirked in a smile.

“Well? What is it?” Elrohir demanded.

Elladan grinned widely. “Nothing. Good morning, little brother. Shall we go down to father’s Council?” His gaze slid past Elrohir to the bed, and he grinned again. “I take it Legolas will be joining us later?”

“He – ahh – yes, perhaps.” Elrohir smiled at sweet – and sticky – memories. “Come on, El!”

They hurried down to the terrace where the Council was to be held and paused on the threshold as other guests entered. Legolas, flushed and dishevelled, joined them just in time. “You could have woken me!” he hissed furiously into Elrohir’s ear.

Elrond stood as he greeted each of his guests, then stopped as his gaze fell on his son and his mate. He smiled, then drew them a little to one side. “Elrohir. Legolas. Good morning.” He smiled again. “You both appear to have honey in your hair …”

Ficlet: A Night To Remember (Elrohir/Legolas/Elladan; R)

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 20:50:47 GMT

A 500-word ficlet, and my first threesome. Legolas wakes up the morning after the night before - and gets a shock. I'm quite sure this has been done before, but who cares?

Written for melethen's challenge to 'write a drabble or short fic about Elladan, Legolas and Elrohir recovering from a night of drinking and fun'

A Night To Remember

Legolas stretched, wincing as the low winter sunlight streaming through the window hit his eyes. He snuggled closer to Elrohir, still soundly asleep in his arms, and waited for the pounding in his head to subside.

What a night it had been! Despite the headache, and the slight queasiness, it had been worth it. And judging by the languid ache that still pervaded his body, more than worth it. He smiled, remembering through the haze of a rich, potent wine. No wonder Elrohir still slept so soundly – he must be exhausted. Despite their long, passionate relationship, he had never known a night like it for prolonged, fervent lovemaking. Elrohir had seemed to be everywhere, his mouth and hands kissing and caressing every inch at once, demanding, relentless, and totally insatiable.

It had been amazing.

Smiling again, he kissed Elrohir’s neck and buried his face in his hair, breathing in his unique, musky scent. Then he frowned, drawing back a little.

Something was wrong.

Cautiously he brushed back the curtain of dark hair that covered Elrohir’s face, then froze in horror.

“Elladan?”

Elladan stirred against him, opening his eyes slowly, and smiled back. “Legolas. Good morning. I trust you slept well?” His smile turned lecherous. “Eventually, that is?”

Panic-stricken, Legolas sat up, pushing Elladan away from him. “Elladan! How – what – oh Valar, how could we?” He buried his face in his hands in despair, feeling sick. Oh, Gods. What had he done?

Behind him, there was a low, muttering grumble. “Legolas. For pity’s sake, keep still! My head …”

If he had felt sick before, he now felt ten times worse. “Elrohir,” he croaked. “Please. I can explain …”

“Explain what? Stop blathering, and lie down again – you are letting the cold air in!” Elrohir wound his hand into Legolas’s hair, and pulled him back down, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. He began to respond instinctively, reacting to Elrohir’s touch and feel helplessly, yielding to the plundering kisses. Behind him, Elladan’s lips, alike yet so unalike, began to explore the back of his neck again, raising goosebumps of tingling skin, and four hands caressed him eagerly.

Slowly memory returned. Midwinter, and far too much wine shared with the twins, and his own unexpected plea as Elladan eventually rose to leave them for the night: “Must you go? Stay with us …”

There had been a moment of stunned surprise, of wordless communication, and then eager agreement. There had been two mouths, two tongues; kissing and licking every inch of his burning skin. Two pairs of hands stroking and caressing him into desperate need; two of everything – possessing him and taking him relentlessly, repeatedly; until he sobbed out his release over and over again.

Now, once more sandwiched between the twins, he was again helpless against the dual onslaught. Renewed desire and longing rose within him, and with a sigh of pleasure he yielded yet again to the shared caresses.

This had been a night, and a Midwinter, to remember.

The End

Erestor's Begetting Day (G; Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor/Glorfindel implied)

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 18:39:08 GMT

This is a birthday ficlet for Aglarien.

Elladan and Elrohir plan a begetting day treat for Erestor - but he gets a much bigger surprise than they planned! Fun and fluff, and not to be taken too seriously.

Erestor’s Begetting Day

“But he doesn’t like waking up too early,” Elrohir worried. “What if he’s cross?”

Elrohir pressed his ear to the heavy oak door. A slightly muffled voice drifted through to them – it sounded like Erestor was excited. “Yes, Glorfindel!”

He nodded. “They’re awake – I can hear voices! I think Glorfindel’s giving him something.”

“Good – then let’s surprise them!”

Elrohir threw the door open and leapt into the room, while Elladan followed more carefully with the heavy tray. “Erestor! Happy begetting day!” they chorused. “Did we surprise you?”

The two elves on the bed turned towards them, frozen in a close embrace. Elrohir grinned happily.

“Glorfindel! Are you giving ‘Restor a special treat as well?”

The End

Happy Birthday, Aglarien!

You Said We Used To Be Lovers (4/4) Elrohir/Legolas; NC17

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 18:03:49 GMT

Here, at last, is the final part of what was meant to be a one-shot story!

In the epilogue, 'Resolution', the POV switches to Elrohir, and the reason for his reaction at the end of the last chapter.

Epilogue - Resolution

As he found himself responding to Legolas’s touch and his gentle, skilled caress, Elrohir’s apprehension slid away. Somehow, despite the unfamiliarity, he knew this, and welcomed it. As Legolas began to thrust into him, he yielded fully, opening his body and mind to the loving touch. And as he felt the gentle brush of Legolas’s mind against his, the dark wall that had blocked his thoughts and memories began to break apart, crumbling under the resurgence of their bond.

As the wall broke, a flood of memories spilled forth, a slow trickle at first, but rapidly building to a raging torrent which overwhelmed him. Something lanced through his head like a bolt of lightning, and he gave a cry of pain, tensing as the dam shattered.

Dimly, over a great distance, he could hear Legolas, his concern and horrified questions, and sensed that he was trying to pull away. Gasping, he seized Legolas’s wrist in a vice-like grip, clinging to him as desperately as a lifeline as he drowned in memories. “No,” he choked. “Not – not you. Please – do not leave me …” He swallowed, struggling for control. “M – memories. Everything …” He squeezed his eyes shut as the headache increased to blinding intensity, and the brutal onslaught of fifty years of memories swamped him.

There were fleeting images, disjointed pictures and scenes that at first made no sense, but gradually formed into a whole. There were faces and voices, remembered joys and sorrows; an immense grief when he saw the face of a young warrior who had been killed five years before. There was Glorfindel, sodden and bedraggled, his golden hair hanging in rats-tails as he stood in the Bruinen, swearing awesomely. There were patrols and training classes, and the remembered glow of pride when he had been commended for a solo mission particularly well done. There was a heart-stopping moment of pure, blind terror as he saw Elladan go down beneath an orc’s blade. Memories – his memories. His life.

Throughout it all he saw Legolas – smiling at him, laughing, teasing Elladan or Arwen; eyes dark with passion, or flushed and dishevelled after loving. Slowly the pain faded and the flood of memories eased as he gained control once more.

Gradually he came back to himself, his heart pounding. Slowly he realised there was someone holding him close in a gentle embrace, soothing him; murmuring his name over and over mixed with soft, nonsensical words of comfort. Blinking, he opened his eyes and turned towards the voice.

The same image was before him now – Legolas, face drawn with worry, gazing down at him in fear. He frowned. Was this real, or another memory?

“Legolas?” His voice sounded dry and harsh.

Some of the tension in Legolas eased. “Yes. I am here, Elrohir.”

Joy filled him as he realised that this was here, now – and Legolas was still at his side. He smiled, and drew Legolas down to him, head against his shoulder, full of love for his woodland prince. “Always,” he murmured. “Always.”

Exhausted by the flood of memory and tumult of emotion, he wrapped his arms around Legolas, holding him close. “Never leave me,” he whispered as sleep overtook him.

He felt rather than heard Legolas’s reply; a gentle touch against his mind. “Never.”

o-o-o

Elladan was drifting on the verge of sleep after leaving Elrohir and Legolas, when he was jerked awake by a bewildering deluge of emotions from his twin: fear; joy; grief; pain; mirth; love. Confused and worried, and still half asleep, he was across the room in an instant, his hand poised on the door to Elrohir’s room, when he stopped. Through the slight opening he could hear the low murmur of Legolas’s voice, soothing and gentle. He hesitated, listened for a moment longer, then turned away. He was not needed. Legolas would never do anything to harm Elrohir. If they were together, Elrohir was in safe hands.

He returned to bed and fell into dreams, unaccountably dreaming of Glorfindel falling into the river; his heart lighter than it had been for many weeks.

Rising again in the soft dark before dawn, he dressed for his patrol, then returned to Elrohir’s room and glanced in. “El?” he whispered. “I am leaving now. I will see you later …” He paused at the sight of his brother and his mate lying tangled together in sleep so closely entwined, any distance between them very clearly bridged, and smiled.

“Well. Thank the Valar for that!”

He backed out silently, closing the door behind him.

o-o-o

Elrohir awoke at the slight click of the door. “Elladan?” he called softly, but the room was empty. He lay still for a moment, recalling with awe the night before; revelling in the feel of the slow, steady heartbeat against his chest, and the gentle brush of breath on his face.

He probed at his memory tentatively, but the wall of darkness that had clouded his mind for so long was gone. His thoughts and memories were his own once more, and the constant, nagging headache that had been with him for so long had vanished.

Propping himself on one elbow he gazed down at Legolas, fingers trailing through his hair as he brushed the blond strands from his face. The love he felt was so intense it hurt; especially as he remembered the coldness with which he had treated Legolas. How could he have done that? How could he have forgotten their bond?

He brushed his lips against Legolas’s temple, then drew his tongue across, circling the rim of his ear from the point to the lobe and back up to the point again. Legolas sighed, smiling as he slept. Encouraged, Elrohir repeated the caress, circling his ear again then tracing a line down to his throat, kissing the tender skin there. He could feel a growing hardness against his thigh as Legolas responded to him and roused from dreams. As his eyes cleared, Legolas smiled at him. “Elrohir,” he murmured.

He kissed Legolas gently. “Yes. I am back, I think.” He sighed, and drew his lover’s head down to his shoulder again, running a hand through his hair. “How could I have forgotten? Forgotten us – forgotten how much I love you?”

“But you remember now?” Legolas asked drowsily.

“Aye. Nearly everything, I think. And most of all, I remember this.” He grinned as he began to launch a slow, sensual attack on Legolas, preying on all the secret, vulnerable places that he alone knew. His touch now was sure and certain, quite unlike the hesitant fumbling of the night before. He smiled wryly – he had acted like a shy youth, tentative and nervous before his first lover. Now, though, he intended to make up for that. His tongue ghosted across Legolas’s chest, swirling each nipple in turn and suckling gently, until Legolas arched against him with a desperate cry. “Elrohir!”

Elrohir chuckled. He loved to do this – a few swift, sure touches could reduce Legolas to mindless pleading as he begged to be taken. Just as easily though, he could turn the tables until Legolas was as aroused and wild as a stag in rut – and that was his goal now.

Legolas responded in kind, his kiss deep and passionate rather than the gentle, tender caresses he had used before. A hand twisted into Elrohir’s hair, pulling him down into a devouring kiss, and Legolas thrust upwards helplessly, rubbing himself against Elrohir’s aching erection.

Elrohir tempered his touch into an enticing, sensual caress, his hands and mouth roaming everywhere until Legolas was wild with need and longing. At last he relented, and poured a little oil onto his hand, stroking it over the steel-hard shaft before him.

Regaining some semblance of control, Legolas gripped his hand. “Elrohir,” he gasped. “Are you sure?”

Elrohir’s tongue darted into the whorl of his ear, shattering that control. He twisted and rolled, pulling Legolas on top of himself. “Oh yes,” he breathed, “Very sure.” He gave a low moan of pleasure as Legolas took him with a hard thrust, then another, and another, plunging deeper each time. Needing to feel every inch, Elrohir wrapped his legs around Legolas, pulling him even closer.

Their love making was fast and fierce, and quickly over. He could feel the warning tightening of his own body, and with a harsh cry exploded into orgasm, a warm splash of fluid pooling on his stomach. There was a final deep thrust, and then he felt the hot flood of Legolas’s seed within him. A blaze of colours bloomed behind his eyes as the familiar, loving touch caressed his mind.

Sated and dazed at the intensity of their loving, he drew Legolas down upon him.

He lay with his head on Elrohir’s shoulder, their arms and legs still entwined. As his racing heart rate slowed, Elrohir turned his head and gently brushed a tear away from his mate’s cheek. “You are crying,” he murmured.

Legolas gave a soft laugh. “So are you,” he pointed out, with the familiar gentle smile that Elrohir loved so much. He licked at a few salty tears, and kissed Elrohir again. “I missed you so much,” he whispered. “I missed this. I missed us. I love you, Elrohir – never forget again that you are mine.”

“Never.”

o-o-o

It was midmorning before they awoke again. Elrohir stretched, blinking as a shaft of sunlight dazzled him, then turned to Legolas. “Good morning, my love.”

Legolas gave him a brilliant smile, then frowned disapprovingly. “You seduced me!”

Elrohir nodded lazily. “Yes, I did,” he agreed. “But it was hardly against your will. And it was not for the first time, either – nor the last!”

“Mmm – I do hope not,” Legolas responded, his hands disappearing beneath the thin sheet.

Elrohir evaded the groping hands reluctantly. “Enough!” he commanded. “We have already missed breakfast, and it will soon be supper if you do that!”

“I can think of worse ways to spend the day,” Legolas pointed out. Then he sat up, his expression serious. “What happened last night? When you cried out, I was so afraid that I had hurt you. I thought I had made a terrible, terrible mistake; pushing you too far, too fast.”

Elrohir shook his head. “It was no mistake – and you could never hurt me. I am sorry I frightened you. It was – it was like an explosion in my mind. I felt I could not see, or feel, or breathe through the pain. I thought I was drowning under the flood of all the memories that had been dammed up.” He smiled at Legolas. “But through it all, I knew you were there.”

“And you remember now? The battle? Everything?”

“Everything, I think. I remember the battle, or most of it. We were down in the south of Imladris when the warning came, and we joined forces with the patrols. The orcs had come across the Hoarwell by cover of darkness, and attacked at night. The villagers would not have stood a chance – there were women and children there, too.” He paused, remembering. “We had destroyed nearly all the orcs, but then – Elladan went down. A blade slashed his leg to the bone – there was so much blood!” He stopped again, closing his eyes against the memory and the image of Elladan lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, blood soaking into the soil beneath him. “Legolas, you were standing over him, still fighting with two orcs, when another came behind you. I ran forward …” he hesitated again, then shook his head. “I still cannot remember anything after that.”

“One of the orcs managed to evade the other warriors,” Legolas explained. “It came towards us swinging a great spiked club – I do not think you even saw it. It hit you so hard!” He shuddered, and continued in a whisper, “I thought you were dead … but I could not leave Elladan, and there were still orcs to contend with. By the time they were all dead and I finally reached you my heart had turned to ice. I have never known such fear …” He fell silent, and Elrohir touched his hand in reassurance.

“I am here now.” He grinned in a sudden change of mood, and slid out of bed. “Now come – it is late, and someone will soon coming looking for us!”

o-o-o

He had bathed, and was half dressed when there was a brief knock at the door, and Elrond came in. “Ah, there you are. You missed breakfast, and I wondered …” He stopped, gazed at Elrohir, then smiled. “You look remarkably well! What has happened?”

Elrohir grinned. “I am very well, father! My memory has returned – all of it. I can remember the battle, everything.”

Elrond smiled again, and hugged him. “That is wonderful news! But what …” His eyes fell on a vibrant love bite on his son’s throat that Elrohir had not even noticed at the time, and his smile faded a little. He nodded at the mark. “Is that anything to do with your sudden cure?”

Elrohir grinned, quite unrepentant. “I decided to take matters into my own hands. Do not blame Legolas – he tried to tell me he thought it was a bad idea, that we should wait, but I would not listen.”

“I do not blame Legolas. I know he would never do anything that may harm you. I also know how stubborn and forceful you can be at times. I doubt he had much choice in the matter!”

Legolas appeared in the doorway of the bathing room, drying his hair. “I did not try that hard,” he admitted. “I am sorry, Elrond – I know you asked me to do nothing to force his memory to return.”

Elrond shook his head. “It just proves that I was wrong. I should have trusted you both to follow your own hearts and minds, even if Elrohir did not fully know his. And Elladan said right from the start that it was a mistake.” He sighed. “There is just one thing that concerns me.”

Elrohir stared at him, startled. “Concerns you? What?”

Elrond gave a sudden grin, looking remarkably like his sons when they had been at their mischievous worst. “It is scarcely a cure I can suggest to others suffering from a loss of memory!”

The End

You Said We Used To Be Lovers (3/4) Elrohir/Legolas; NC17

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 18:30:38 GMT

Chapter Three – Reconciliation

Elladan gazed over Elrohir’s shoulder and caught Legolas’s eye. He gave a very slight nod, and mouthed a single word. ‘Later.’

Rather shaken – had Elladan known he was there all the time? – Legolas retreated, thinking over what he had overheard. Despite Elrohir’s hesitation – and he could understand that now, could sympathise with his unease – Elrohir’s final words shone bright and clear; a beacon of hope. He had said ‘Yes.’

Elated, and more full of hope than since Elrohir had first regained consciousness, Legolas returned to his room to collect his weapons, then walked down to the training grounds. Weapons practice recently had been more of a way to escape his dark thoughts than a pleasure, but now he relished the pull on his muscles as he put himself through a series of limbering exercises, twirling his long-handled knife in a blur of movement before taking up his bow and arrows. He drew and fired again and again, aiming at ever more distant and tricky targets. It became instinct as he judged the slight breeze on his face, automatically shifting his stance to compensate. As the last arrow struck the furthest target, he became aware that someone had joined him, and turned to find Elrohir watching him.

“Elrohir! I – I did not realise you were there. Have you been here long?” He suddenly felt ridiculously tongue-tied and nervous.

Elrohir nodded. “I was watching.” He paused, then added, “You have lost none of your skill – you are as good as ever!”

Legolas smiled. “I am out of practice, though.” He hesitated, searching for something to say. “Will you walk with me to collect the arrows?”

They walked towards the targets. Elrohir seemed as nervous and skittish as a young horse, and Legolas found his own stomach tied in knots. As he tugged the last arrow from the heart of the furthest target, Elrohir turned towards him.

“You said … we used to be lovers?”

Legolas felt saddened at the hesitancy in Elrohir’s voice. “Not ‘used to be’,” he urged. “We are lovers. We are bound, whether you remember it or not. I love you, Elrohir, and you love me. And I will always love you, even if you never remember our lives together. And I will stay by your side for as long as you need me.”

Elrohir gave a small smile. “I think I would like that.”

He was elated at this encouragement, small though it was. Against his will – or, perhaps, very much to his will – Legolas leaned forward and kissed Elrohir, losing himself in the familiar touch and taste. The feel of Elrohir’s lips beneath his flooded him with longing, and he moaned softly. Yet something was wrong – although Elrohir returned the kiss, it was tentative and gentle, not the enthusiastic pillaging of his mouth he knew and loved.

He drew back with a sigh. “I am sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered. “I should not have done that.”

Elrohir touched his cheek. “Sorry? Why?”

“I promised Elrond that I would not push you. He asked me to do nothing to force your memories to return – to let matters take their own course.” He gave a sad smile. “It is not easy, though.”

Elrohir snorted. “My father is not here – I am!” he retorted, with a spark of the old Elrohir, missing for so long. “I love and respect my father greatly, but he does not know everything. If I did not want your embrace, I would tell you. It just feels … strange.”

“You loved me once, Elrohir,” Legolas whispered. “And you will again. You will remember, one day.”

Elrohir nodded. He ran his hands through his hair, and gave a deep sigh. “I hope so. I want to remember. I hate living this half life, knowing there is so much which has happened that you and Elladan and my parents know, but which I am unaware of. I want to know – I want to remember.”

As they began to walk back to the house, Elladan hailed them. “I was just on my way to the river to swim,” he called. “Why no join me?”

Elrohir nodded. “An excellent idea! It is far too hot today. Legolas?”

Legolas hesitated. “Do you want me to?” he asked cautiously. He did not want to push Elrohir too far, too soon.

“Yes, of course! I need …” Elrohir paused. “I need to learn to know you again. I want to know you again. We were friends once, and I know now that has never changed. I want that back.”

There was a wide, deep pool in a bend of the river, overhung by a tall cliff. “We used to jump from the top of that,” Elrohir reminisced. “Do you remember?”

“I am unlikely to forget it!” Legolas retorted. “We must have been mad. How could we have been so reckless?”

Elladan grinned. “We were children,” he explained simply. He sat on a rock to pull off his boots, and began to strip off his tunic and trousers.

It was an odd thing, Legolas mused, but although the twins’ faces and bodies were identical, he had never felt anything other than deep friendship for Elladan – yet the sight of Elrohir’s lean, bare body filled him with hunger and longing. He swallowed hard, forcing away such thoughts – now was not the time for them. He did not want to scare Elrohir away again.

He dived into the water, and swam until his aching need cooled, then turned to float on his back, blinking droplets of water from his eyes. The water felt cool and silky against his skin as he looked up at the high cliff, the trees overhanging the pool and the bright sunlight overhead. He was, he suddenly realised, happy – for the first time in weeks.

Elrohir stood waist-deep in the water, dark hair cascading down his back as sleek and smooth as an otter’s. He was staring at Legolas with a distant, thoughtful expression. “The tattoo on your shoulder,” he began. “It is the symbol of Imladris. “And I …” He reached back to touch his own shoulder.

Legolas swam to his side. “Yes,” he breathed. “Do you remember? What, Elrohir?”

“A golden oak leaf,” Elrohir whispered, touching the mark on the back of his own shoulder.

Elladan joined them. “El? What do you remember?”

Elrohir paused, his eyes closed as he searched his thoughts. Then he released a long breath of frustration and shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing more. For a moment there was something there – but it is gone again.” Very gently he touched the waterfall tattoo on Legolas’s shoulder. “But I remember this.”

Legolas shivered at the light, sensual touch. “You said it is a sign that I am part of you,” he whispered. “It is a tradition of Lasgalen, a sign that we belong together.”

“Together …” Elrohir repeated. “Yes.”

Elladan smiled with delight. “Finally! It is the first sign that you are getting your memory back, El. The memories are still there, just hidden.” He flung an arm around Elrohir and Legolas, embracing them both. “Tonight, perhaps I shall have supper brought to our rooms – just for the three of us. If we talk about the things we all remember, perhaps it will jog your memory again, Elrohir.”

The evening was relaxed and carefree, and Elrohir seemed happier and more at ease than he had for a long time. The awkwardness and distance that had grown between him and Legolas had evaporated – it was like the old days of their friendship before it had deepened into something much more, and for the first time since news of the orc invasion had reached them, Legolas felt light-hearted and full of joy. Elrohir was not back with him, not yet, but this was a start, and he knew now that it was only a matter of time. Even if Elrohir never fully regained his memories, he was certain he could entice Elrohir to love him again, and they would start anew.

Over the meal they shared stories of happier times and the days Elrohir could remember, and Legolas and Elladan regaled him with some of the adventures of more recent years which Elrohir had lost. Elladan told the tale of a chaotic patrol led by Glorfindel – in which the captain, trying to rescue a stranded novice, had himself fallen into the Bruinen.

Elrohir burst into laughter. “I wish I could have seen that!” he exclaimed.

“You did,” Elladan pointed out gently. “You were there. We both were.”

Elrohir sighed. “If only I could remember. So much has happened that I have forgotten …”

Elladan grinned. “I can think of one way to make your memory return. It was caused by a blow to the head – perhaps another will cure the problem? I have heard a theory that that could work. Would you like me to try?” He picked up a heavy candle holder and waved it at Elrohir menacingly.

Laughing, Elrohir fended him off. “No, thank you – knowing you, it would all go wrong and I would end up not even knowing who I am! You have my thanks, but I have no wish to be rendered unconscious again.”

Elladan shrugged, unconcerned. “Ah, well. But remember the offer is there!” He drained his goblet and pushed his chair back. “It is late, and I have a dawn patrol tomorrow. Goodnight.” He ruffled Elrohir’s hair. “It is good to see you laugh again, little brother. You have been far too quiet and withdrawn recently.”

After he left, Legolas leaned back in his chair and stretched. “I must go as well. Today … has been a good day. Thank you, Elrohir. Goodnight.” He clasped Elrohir’s fingers gently, then turned to return to the lonely guest room he had used for the last few weeks, rather than sharing Elrohir’s room – and his bed.

“No, wait.” Elrohir held onto his hand and pulled him closer. “You said we used to be lovers,” he said again. “I have been told that many times, by Elladan, and my parents, and you. I have had to accept it. But now … now I feel it to be true. I believe it. There is something I sense with you. A familiarity. A connection of some kind.”

Legolas swallowed. “It is a beginning,” he whispered, tears pricking at his eyes. “I will wait, Elrohir. Until you feel our bond fully, and accept me again.”

“No.” Elrohir was firm, the stubbornness that had always been so much a part of him clear to see. “I do not want to wait. I have lost fifty years of my life, Legolas – twenty of them bound to a good, decent, honourable elf who loves me. I know that now. I want my life back, Legolas. I want you to make me remember. I loved you once – I want to remember that.”

His hand curved around the back of Legolas’s head, and he pulled him into a soft kiss, his lips gentle and exploring. Legolas melted into the kiss, his heart soaring with joy – he knew it was only a matter of time before Elrohir remembered everything and loved him again. Then he stiffened and drew back. This was wrong, his mind cried. Elrohir did not love him; not yet – he merely believed he should. Although his traitorous body had responded at once to Elrohir’s touch and gentle kisses, yielding to his caress and thrusting into the soft, hesitant grip, he knew he had to stop.

With a shudder, he pulled away. “No,” he gasped. “No, Elrohir. It would be wrong to do this until you know me again. I cannot take you like this – and I promised I would not try to force you to regain your memory.”

Elrohir sighed, exasperation sparking in his eyes. “You think you are using me? Taking advantage of my vulnerable state? Legolas, I have never in my life allowed anyone to ‘use’ me – I do not need my memories to know that!” He drew Legolas to him again. “This is my choice. I want to remember. I want to know you again – now.” His fingers, slow and gentle, began to brush across Legolas’s chest, and he leaned forward to kiss him again. “Love me, Legolas.”

“No …”

Elrohir ignored him, his lips traced a delicate pattern from throat to pulse-spot to the point of his shoulder, then trailed back again, slow and seductive. Legolas drew a deep, shuddering breath. He knew he had to refuse. This Elrohir did not love him, not yet; and he could not do it. It would be wrong. He opened his mouth to deny Elrohir, and yet … “Yes,” he breathed, as Elrohir’s lips caressed his, and he returned the kiss, helpless with longing; unable to fight it any more. “Yes. We will remember together.”

Light, exploratory touches of sensitive flesh inflamed them both. Elrohir’s touch was hesitant and uncertain at first, but suddenly his tongue swirled around the tip of Legolas’s ear, and he nipped it gently.

Legolas arched off the bed with a gasp. “Yes!” he hissed. He took a deep breath, and turned wondering eyes on Elrohir. “How did you know to do that?”

“You did not like it? I thought …” Elrohir faltered, and flushed.

“Yes. Yes, I like it – I like it very much. But you knew that. You remembered.” In retaliation, he flickered his tongue against the hollow at Elrohir’s throat, suckling at the soft skin there. Elrohir moaned, arching his head back against the delicate touch. “Just as I remember how much you like this,” Legolas breathed. “You know my touch. You respond to it, even if you do not remember it.

He began to lavish attention on all the secret, vulnerable spots he had learned over their years together – the sensitive places that made Elrohir squirm and gasp, leaving him quivering with longing. “Yes …” Elrohir moaned. “I know this …”

“Yes. Yes, you do. You know me.” Legolas whispered. His hand moved lower, cupping and stroking his erection, wringing more soft cries from Elrohir. He found he was treating Elrohir as he would an untried youth, with slow, gentle touches – nothing like the enthusiastic, exuberant love play they both enjoyed. Yet the delicate, sensual caresses were overwhelming his senses, intoxicating and arousing, and he ached with need and longing. “Oh Gods, Elrohir,” he moaned. “I have missed this – I have missed you, so much!”

Elrohir caught at his free hand, gripping it tightly. “I am sorry – it must have been so hard for you, as well. Make me remember, Legolas. Make me remember everything.”

“Yes …”

Despite his misgivings, he could not have stopped now, even if he had wanted to. Elrohir’s encouragement urged him on, and he slid his hand lower, caressing the soft, downy testicles before his fingers probed at the tight entrance.

Elrohir tensed, and Legolas licked at the hollow of his throat again. “Hush,” he whispered soothingly. “You know this, too. And you will remember it.”

Despite Elrohir’s initial hesitation, his body responded to Legolas’s touch with eagerness, welcoming the familiar caresses he had forgotten. At last, helpless with the need to spend himself and bring Elrohir to a familiar, shuddering climax, he began to push into the tight heat.

Their love making was as slow and sweet and tender as it had been the very first time. He could feel the tentative brush of Elrohir’s mind against his and the soaring joy that matched his own.

Lost in the ecstasy of their joining, he missed the first twinges of unease. Elrohir began to tense beneath him, his body rigid, and he gave a low cry of distress. Legolas froze. “Elrohir?”

Elrohir’s breathing was rapid and shallow. His eyes were closed, and his face pale, twisted with pain. “No,” he moaned, raising one arm to cover his eyes.

Horrified, his heart hammering, Legolas began to withdraw. “Elrohir,” he breathed. “Forgive me – I should never … I knew it was wrong. You are not ready …” He felt sick, overwhelmed with guilt and remorse. He had known this was wrong. What if Elrohir’s battered mind interpreted this as assault – as rape? It could destroy him; and he knew that he had ruined any chance of ever winning Elrohir’s love and trust again.

Shaking, he stared down at Elrohir. “Elrohir – wait. Stay here. I will get someone: Elladan, or your father.” He swallowed, lost in misery. “Elrohir - forgive me …”

To be concluded

You Said We Used To Be Lovers (2/4) Elrohir/Legolas; NC17

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 18:28:39 GMT

Chapter Two – Revelations

Legolas stared at Elladan in shock.

“Fifty years? He has forgotten the last fifty years?”

Elladan gave a helpless shrug. “If that begetting day is the last one he remembers – but he may just be confused. If he has lost his memory …” He fell silent, staring back at Elrohir’s room, his eyes shadowed.

Legolas did not want to pursue that idea, but the conclusion was inescapable. If Elrohir had forgotten fifty years, he could also have forgotten their bond, and the love they shared. And then, with a cold fear, he recalled Elrohir’s first words to him when he awoke. “I think you are right,” he said quietly. “And I think he has forgotten me, as well.”

“Legolas – memory loss is common after an injury like Elrohir’s. It will not last long – he will remember soon. And remember what I said before – we have to have hope.”

He nodded. “I know. And I know Elrohir will soon return to us. He cannot have forgotten our bond – not for long. In a few days he will be well. I remember when he fell in the Lithaduin – he recalled everything in just two days!” He gave a sudden laugh as his usual optimism returned. “Elrohir is too stubborn for his own good – he will not let this hold him back for long!”

o-o-o

His hope proved all too optimistic. Over the next few days Elrohir regained his strength, and the heavy bruising faded. The deep gash across his temple healed, and when Elrond removed the stitches, only a faint scar remained. Elrohir appeared fully recovered in all ways – save one. He still had no memory whatsoever of the battle, events preceding it, his bond with Legolas – nothing of the last fifty years. Most worrying of all, he had no awareness that there was anything wrong, and seemed oblivious of the gap in his memories and his life.

Elrond had counselled caution in dealing with this. “I think it best to say nothing to him. I am sure his memory will return soon, but until then I do not want to do anything to force it. We must let his mind heal as it will. The shock of learning what has been lost could cause further damage. Legolas – I cannot begin to understand how difficult this must be for you, but please – do nothing to force his memory to return.”

Legolas hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “I will try.”

Elladan shook his head. “El is no fool – he will know something is wrong; that we are hiding something. He will not thank us for coddling him like this. He is still Elrohir – and he will still prefer to confront problems head on.”

Legolas tended to agree. He knew Elrohir, and knew how stubborn and determined he could be. He would not appreciate being protected from anything – even if it was deemed to be for his own good. He had a great respect for Elrond, but wondered if this was the correct decision. But as he still held to his hope that Elrohir’s memory would soon return, he supposed it would not matter.

The next few days were difficult. In many ways Elrohir seemed unchanged – he teased Arwen and argued with Elladan as he had always done, and laughed and joked with Legolas as he had when they were merely friends. In many ways, that was the hardest thing of all. Legolas longed to come closer to Elrohir, to share their love again – but Elrohir was quite unaware of any deeper feeling. All the time though, the knowledge of what had happened hung over them, and Elrohir could not fail to be aware of the shadow of it.

Elrohir finally lost patience five days after he had regained consciousness. Elrond had conducted his customary examination, and pronounced Elrohir ‘nearly fit’ to return to his duties.

“Nearly fit?” Elrohir protested. “But when? When can I go back on patrol?”

“Soon,” Elrond soothed him. “You are still suffering from headaches. When they ease …”

Elrohir did not try to deny the headaches. “But they are less severe and less frequent than they were. I know I can manage!”

“Soon,” Elrond repeated as he turned to leave. “Be patient, Elrohir. You will soon be well.”

“No, wait,” Elrohir demanded, calling him back. “Tell me what else is wrong – there is something you are hiding from me, I can feel it. You are tiptoeing around me as you would around a sleeping warg, where the slightest misstep could wake it. Why?”

There was a silence, which only too clearly confirmed Elrohir’s questions. “I knew it – if it concerns me, I think I have the right to know! Is it the battle? Was someone else killed, and you do not want to tell me? Who? What?”

Elrond sighed. “It is not that. But the blow to your head – it caused severe injury.”

Elrohir nodded. “I know that. And I know I was unconscious for over a week, and you were quite naturally very worried. I know that. There are a few things before the battle I cannot remember. I know that, too – you said that that was normal. But apart from that I am fully recovered – so why am I still confined to my rooms? What is it I do not know?” He stared at them, his gaze flicking from Elrond to Elladan and back again. “Well? Is one of you going to tell me?”

Elladan stared accusingly at Elrond. Legolas found it harder to read his expressions and moods than Elrohir’s, but this was unmistakeably ‘I told you so.’ At last Elrond nodded, and Elladan leaned closer to his brother. “El – There are more than just a few things which you cannot remember. It is more than that. Our begetting day when you gave me Anroch – is that the last thing you remember clearly?”

“Well – there are a few things since then, but yes. Why?”

Elladan spoke slowly, trying to find the right words. “It was not our last begetting day, El. It was a long time ago – nearly fifty years. You appear to have lost the memory of that time completely.”

Elrohir stared at him. “Fif – fifty years?” he whispered in shock. “I cannot remember the last fifty years?” He swallowed, then gave Elladan a sudden suspicious look, and gazed accusingly at Legolas. “This is not one of your jokes, is it? I remember another occasion in Lasgalen …”

“No!” Elladan exclaimed, startled. “It is no joke, El, not this time. It is true.”

“Fifty years?”

Elrond nodded. “It would seem so,” he confirmed. “The more you can tell us about what you do remember, the better we can tell.”

“Fifty years,” Elrohir repeated again, stunned. It was no longer a question. He swallowed, then looked up again. “I see. Is there anything else I should know?” He tried to smile. “A lot must have happened in that time.”

“There is one other thing,” Legolas said as he knelt by Elrohir’s seat. Elrohir watched at him warily. “Elrohir – for the last twenty years we have been lovers. We are bound. Can you not feel it?” He tried to keep the pain and yearning out of his voice, but it was impossible. “Can you not feel me?” he pleaded, taking Elrohir’s hand.

Elrohir snatched his hand away. “No!” he exclaimed. “No, that cannot be. I would remember that – I would know it. Legolas, you are a dear friend, but lovers? No!”

Legolas bowed his head, feeling tears prick at his eyes. This was something he had dreaded. A hand clasped his shoulder in reassurance, and he heard Elladan’s voice. “It is true, little brother,” he said softly. “Legolas would not lie about a thing like that. Nor would I – you know that.”

Legolas looked back at Elrohir as he shook his head again, still denying what he heard. “No,” he insisted. “I do not believe it. I would know if such a thing was true.”

Elrond spoke gently. “I am sorry, Elrohir. This must be very difficult for you to believe, but we would not mislead you.”

Elrohir nodded silently. He took a deep breath, but would not look at anyone. “No. You would not make such a cruel joke. I know that. You would not lie to me – I know that, too.” There was a prolonged silence as Elrohir struggled to find words. At last he raised his head, anger flashing from his eyes. “Why did none of you think to tell me this before – any of you? Fifty years – you did not think it important? And now I find …” he broke off as his voice began to shake. “Will – will you leave me? Please, just go – all of you. I need to be alone.”

Elrond sighed. “We thought it for the best, Elrohir.”

“Whose best? Mine? Or yours?” Elrohir snapped, his tone bitter. “Just leave me.”

“Elrohir …”

“Please, El – you as well.”

Elladan hesitated, then sighed. “Very well, little brother. But I will be here if you need me.”

Elrohir merely nodded. He did not even look at Legolas.

Legolas hesitated, reluctant to leave Elrohir when he was so distraught; but then followed Elladan and Elrond as they moved towards the sitting room. Elrond turned to him. “Legolas – will you join us? I do not wish to leave him too alone like this.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps later,” he said curtly. He had expected Elrohir to be shocked by the news, but not this denial and rejection. He had felt sure that Elrohir would somehow remember and feel their bond again. But now … like Elrohir, he felt the need to be alone to think about this, and could not face the sympathy and concern he could see in Elladan and Elrond.

As he hurried down the steps to the gardens, he glanced back at Elrohir. He sat hunched in the chair, arms wrapped around his knees, and his face hidden. He looked utterly lost and forlorn. He longed to go to Elrohir, to hold him and comfort him – it tore his soul to leave him so alone, but he remembered the way Elrohir had recoiled from him, and knew that there was no comfort or support he could offer. Not yet.

o-o-o

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. He longed to be with Elrohir, but it was so hard to be near him when Elrohir seemed so distant. Elrohir seemed to be avoiding him now, and even the ease of their lifelong friendship – which had never changed even after they became lovers – had gone.

Legolas was in despair. It was difficult and painful to see the stranger that Elrohir had become, and there were some days when it was easier to take a long, solitary ride alone along the banks of the Bruinen. He was even tempted at times to return to Lasgalen, where he would be able to bury his sense of grief and loss beneath the mantle of duty and responsibility. He was tempted – but he could not bring himself to abandon Elrohir. He still clung to the hope that one day Elrohir’s memories would return.

A messenger arrived from Lasgalen, bringing with him a long letter from Thranduil, with news and a final plea:

‘I long for you to return, my son, but know you cannot leave yet. I pray to the Valar that Elrohir’s memory will soon be healed, and he will be returned to you, so that you may return to me.

My blessings to you both,

Your loving father

Thranduil’

He read the letter through for the third time, profoundly grateful for his father’s acceptance and understanding. He folded the letter, then looked up as Celebrían approached him.

“Is your father well?”

Legolas nodded. “He is. He says he can manage without me for a while longer, though I know he would like me to return.”

She nodded gravely. “And what will you do?” She gave him a searching gaze, suddenly appearing uncannily like her mother.

He met her gaze unflinchingly. Despite his fears and doubts, the answer was suddenly crystal clear to him. “I will stay, if you will have me here. I will stay until Elrohir remembers me. And if his memory never returns, I will wait until he comes to love me anew. I will not leave him, Celebrían. I love him, and I am still bound to him, and nothing will ever break that.”

Celebrían smiled, and kissed his cheek. “Bless you. Elrohir could not have chosen a better mate. He is lucky to have you – and one day he will remember that.”

As she left, a sudden swirl of movement in the doorway caught his eye. Elrohir – and he must have overheard. Gripped by a sudden determination, Legolas followed him. Walking quickly, almost running, Elrohir threaded his way along the woodland paths towards the river. Legolas slowed. He did not want to race through the trees after Elrohir, and could in any case guess where he was going. Perhaps in the secluded clearing overlooking the river he could finally corner Elrohir and talk to him.

As the trees thinned, he realised that Elrohir was not alone – Elladan was already there. He hesitated, wondering whether to join them. Elladan had been a tower of strength to him, a constant support and reassurance that one day, all would be well. He too was worried about Elrohir, and perhaps it would be best to leave the twins alone to talk. About to turn away, he hesitated as he overheard Elladan’s first sharp words.

“How much longer are you going to run away from your problems, El?”

“What do you mean?” Elrohir protested. “I am not running away from anything!”

Elladan sighed. “Stop pretending, El. When was the last time you spoke to Legolas? When was the last time you even looked at him? You are avoiding him, Elrohir – running away from what has happened!”

Elrohir did not reply, and Elladan continued. “This is not like you, El. You have always faced difficulties head on – too stubborn for your own good! I never imagined that you could be a coward,” he added harshly.

“I am no coward!” Elrohir snapped, goaded into response.

“No?” Elladan waited.

Legolas knew he should leave, or make his presence known. He knew he should not stay here listening, a hidden eavesdropper. But Elrohir would not talk to him. Perhaps, if he would talk to Elladan, he could learn more. So he waited, wondering what would come next.

“I am not running away – I just do not know what to say to him.” Elrohir sighed. “It is hard, El – so hard.”

“Hard, yes,” Elladan agreed. “But that has never stopped you before. And think what it must be like for Legolas, too. What if it had been me? What if I had lost my memory, if I no longer knew you, and even tried to avoid you? How would you feel?”

Elrohir was silent. “Is that what Legolas feels?” He took a shuddering breath. “He must be so lonely.” He fell silent, thinking. “I have been selfish. I have been so concerned with my own loss, wanting to regain my memories, I have not thought what torture this must be for him. To love someone, and not have that love returned or even acknowledged – I have been cruel to him. I did not think …” He paused again. “It is hard,” he repeated. “To know that we must have shared … such intimacies – but not to remember any of it. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Elladan drew him into a gentle embrace. “Then you need to remember. You need to know what you shared. He loves you, and you loved him. At the very least, he is still a friend, and deserves better. You need to decide if you are going to fight for what you had, or if you are going to ignore it, and face the future alone. El – do you want him back?”

“Yes,” Elrohir whispered very softly. “Yes.”

To be continued

You Said We Used To Be Lovers (1/4) Elrohir/Legolas; NC17

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 18:25:55 GMT

I'll start this journal by re-posting the most recent story from scratch.

Legolas's visit to Imladris is interrupted by a battle in which Elrohir is critically injured.

Chapter One – Realisation

Legolas awoke from an uneasy doze and stretched, stiff from sitting all night. He glanced at the bed as a matter of course, but there was no change. Elrohir still lay silent and unmoving, though there were small, hopeful signs. The heavy bandages that had swathed his head were gone, and the deep bruises that had turned half his face black were fading to yellow. The deep gashes left by the orc’s spiked club were slowly closing – but Elrohir still did not wake.

It had been over a week since the battle. A week of long, dreary days and restless nights. He and Elladan, Elrond and Celebrían – between them, they sat with Elrohir night and day, talking to him, reading, coaxing him to swallow tiny amounts of water – but Elrohir still did not wake.

He kissed Elrohir on the brow as he greeted him. “Good morning. It looks to be another lovely day today. We should be out, you know – not trapped in here, while you sleep!” He did not wait for a response – he no longer expected one. His hope was fading with every day that Elrohir remained unconscious.

He rose to his feet and began to pace about the room, pausing to look out over the valley. Imladris was basking in the heat of high summer, and the early morning air was already warm. Normally he and Elrohir would be making the most of their leave, picnicking and riding in the forests and meadows, sometimes taking a longer journey to the furthest borders and spending the nights together beneath the stars. Their idyllic days together had been brutally shattered by reports that a company of orcs was crossing the mountains, heading for the scattered human settlements along the Hoarwell. Now his life centred on this one room.

Returning to the bed he sat on the edge, taking Elrohir’s limp hand in his, caressing the long fingers. “Wake up soon, Elrohir,” he murmured. “I love you, and I need you to be well. I want to go back to our days and nights together, when it is just the two of us. And when you are well, we will go swimming in the Bruinen – you will need to exercise and build up your strength. Poor Nimroth is pining for you, too. I try to ride him, but you know he will only tolerate you!”

He glanced up as Elladan entered, but did not move from his perch. Elladan looked as weary and strained as Legolas felt, his eyes shadowed with sleeplessness. He limped across to the bed, and sat down with a sigh.

“Is there any change?” It was always the first question they asked each other, and always received the same reply.

Legolas shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

Elladan leaned back against the headboard, and took Elrohir’s other hand. “Wake up, little brother. Summer is passing, and you are missing the best of it. Legolas will be gone soon, and you will not be able to say goodbye.”

“No. I will not leave – not while he is like this.” Legolas held Elrohir’s hand against his cheek longingly, and sighed. “I have already written to my father, prolonging my stay. I know it will be difficult for him,” he admitted. “He needs me there – but Elrohir needs me more. He will understand.”

Elladan nodded. “Thank the Valar you are here,” he added unexpectedly. “I have never been so glad that you and Elrohir are bound. We all love him, and your support helps so much. Together, I know we can call him back.”

“When? It has been a week, Elladan. When will he wake?” The despair that ate at him began to brim over again. “What if he never wakes? Without food or enough water he will die, Elladan – and I …,” he broke off, knowing that Elladan suffered the same worries and fear; probably even more. Their twin bond was even stronger and deeper than his own bond with Elrohir. They had been together since the very first moments of life, and rarely separated since then, while he and Elrohir had been lovers for a mere twenty years – and their partings were too long, and too frequent.

Elladan closed his eyes and sighed. “I know. We have to have hope, Legolas – that is all we can do. Just hope.” He settled himself more comfortably on the bed. “Go and bathe and change. Or take Nimroth out – he needs the exercise, and the grooms cannot handle him.” He looked up with a sympathetic smile as Legolas hesitated. “Or do you fear he will wake while you are not here?”

“If I thought it would prompt his waking, I would go now, and not return until he does wake,” Legolas admitted bleakly. He hesitated again, then nodded. “You are right. I need to feel the sun and the breeze – I was not made to stay within walls. But I will not be long.”

He took Nimroth along woodland paths, delighting in being beneath the trees once more. Urging him into a full gallop, they raced along the narrow track, leaping fallen logs and ducking under low branches. He knew it was reckless, but he need this mindless exertion. All his attention and skill were focused on the path, and he had no time to brood, or dwell on thoughts of Elrohir. At last he slowed their breakneck speed, breathing hard. The fierce ride had at least eased the tension across his shoulders and neck, and finally banished the headache that had lurked for days. He turned Nimroth and they returned to the house at a more sedate pace.

When he returned to Elrohir’s room, Elladan had not moved, though Elrond and Celebrían were now also there. Celebrían kissed his cheek as he sat beside her. “Do you feel better?”

To his surprise, Legolas nodded. “Yes,” he admitted with guilt.

“Good. Elrohir will not thank you when he wakes if you have made yourself ill through worry. It does you no good to be here all the time!”

The day wore on. Elrond and Celebrían left again later, and Legolas and Elladan resumed their vigil of reading and talking to Elrohir. At last Elladan stretched restlessly. “I weary of just sitting here!” he exclaimed. “A game of chess? There is a set in the other room.” He limped through to the sitting room he and Elrohir shared, and Legolas moved to the open window, stretching his stiff legs.

A soft sigh from the bed drew his attention back to Elrohir. He returned swiftly, and knelt beside the bed, taking Elrohir’s hand in his again. “Elrohir? Can you hear me?” He stroked the palm gently with his thumb – and the limp fingers moved, returning the touch.

Legolas turned his head and called to the other room. “Elladan! I think he is waking!” He lowered his voice to a gentle whisper again. “Elrohir? Wake now. I am here, and Elladan. Can you hear me?” He brushed his hand against Elrohir’s face, pushing back a loose strand of hair. “Wake up, my love.”

Elrohir’s eyes flickered and he moved his head a little, his face creasing in pain. Elladan ran into the room and stopped dead, then sat carefully on the very edge of the bed. “El?”

Elrohir slowly opened his eyes, though the left, still swollen, remained partially closed. He blinked once or twice, and gazed at Elladan. “El?” His voice was a bare whisper.

“Yes. I am here, little brother. And Legolas. You scared us, El.” He bent, and held Elrohir in the gentlest of embraces for a moment, then moved back to allow Legolas closer.

“Elrohir. Welcome back.” He smiled. “As Elladan says, we were worried about you.” He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Elrohir’s head.

Elladan slid his arm beneath his brother’s head and raised him slightly. “Drink this, little brother. It is just water. Drink – you must be thirsty.”

Elrohir took a careful sip and coughed, then drank again before sagging back into Elladan’s support. “What … happened?”

“A very large orc with a spiked club happened,” Legolas explained. “Do you remember? Do you remember the battle?”

Elrohir frowned. “No …”

Elladan hushed him. “It does not matter. Not now. Just rest, El.”

Elrohir was struggling to stay awake now, but he gave a slight smile, his swollen mouth making it slightly twisted. “… glad you are here, Legolas. A good friend …” he breathed, and his eyes drifted shut as he slid back into sleep.

Legolas smiled as he kissed Elrohir gently. “A good friend? Oh, I think I am rather more than that! You own my heart and soul. Rest now, my love.” He looked across to Elladan, and saw his own joy and relief reflected there. “At last,” he breathed in jubilation.

“Aye, at last,” Elladan agreed. The shadow of worry and weariness had lifted from him, and he smiled, then climbed awkwardly to his feet. “I must tell my parents.”

“No, wait,” Legolas protested. “I will go. I will be faster – and I know you still find the stairs difficult.”

Elladan did not argue, a sure sign of how much his leg still pained him. The bone-deep slash was healing, but he was slow to recover from the blood loss and the poison on the blade. “Yes. And hurry – if he wakes again, he will want to see you.”

Elrond and Celebrían were in the library, and both rose to their feet as Legolas entered. Celebrían gazed at him and read something in his face, for she gave a sudden smile. “Elrohir is awake!”

“He was,” Legolas corrected. “He regained consciousness a few minutes ago, though he is asleep again now. Elladan is with him.”

“Thank the Valar,” Elrond sighed. He questioned Legolas as they hurried back to Elrohir’s room. “How does he seem? Is there any confusion? Any blurring of his vision? Any headache or dizziness?”

Legolas shrugged. “I could not tell. He was only awake for a few moments, but he knew us both. He cannot recall the battle, though.”

Elrond nodded. “That is common enough. When he next wakes, we will know more.”

Elrohir slept for the rest of that day, a deep healing sleep rather than the blank unconsciousness of the preceding week. He awoke again near dusk, instinctively turning his head towards Elladan and Legolas on his left.

Celebrían took his hand and kissed his cheek. “Good evening, my dear. I am so glad to see you awake at last! We have all been most worried.”

Elrohir smiled, and squeezed her hand. “Mother.” His gaze wandered around the room as he took in the figures by his bedside, and he frowned. “How long have I been here?”

“You were unconscious for over a week,” she told him.

His eyes reflected his shock. “A week? No wonder you were worried.” He freed his hand, and tried to push himself upright.

“Wait, little brother. Let me help you.”

As Elladan and Legolas helped him to sit, Elrond held a cup of water for him. “Drink this, then let me look at you,” he suggested.

Elrohir bore his father’s attention and questions meekly as Elrond looked into his eyes and made Elrohir track the movement of his forefinger.

“Can you see clearly?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

Elrond frowned. “Remember I am a healer, and your father. I know when you are not telling me the whole truth. Now, do you have a headache?”

With a glare at Elladan, who maintained an impassive expression, Elrohir nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you feel any dizziness?”

Elrohir sighed. “Yes.”

“I thought so.” Elrond added a fine powder to a cup of water. “Drink this. It will ease the headache and dizziness, and any nausea.” He waited until Elrohir drank the potion. “Good. Now, do you remember what happened to you?” he asked at last.

Elrohir shook his head slightly. “No. I told Elladan and Legolas that. They said there had been a battle – though I do not remember it. What happened?”

Elrond settled by Elrohir’s side. “Word came that orcs were crossing the mountain passes and attacking villages in the north,” he explained. “We sent patrols to help them. In the course of one of the battles, Elladan was injured, and when you went to his aid an orc struck you on the side of the head with its club.” He paused. “The orcs were destroyed though, and the villages are safe.”

Elrohir sighed. “That at least is good news,” he murmured. He looked at Elladan. “You were injured?”

“A cut to the leg, little brother. Nothing for you to worry about – it is healing well!” Elladan replied blithely, ignoring the looks cast at him.

Elrohir frowned. “I cannot remember,” he fretted.

“That does not matter. It will soon come back to you,” Elrond reassured him. “Rest now, and sleep, and the morning will soon come.” He rested one hand on Elrohir’s forehead. “Sleep now, my son.”

Elrohir blinked. “Not fair …” he muttered. His eyes closed, and he sank back into a deep sleep.

Once Elrohir was asleep, Elrond withdrew his hand. “He will sleep now until the morning. The headache and dizziness are normal, and I think his memory of the battle will soon return.” He smiled at Elladan and Legolas. “And you can both rest properly tonight, and sleep. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

Elrohir slept through the night – and so, for the first time in over a week, did Legolas. He awoke shortly after dawn, feeling more rested and at ease than since word had been received of the orc incursion. Elrohir still slept peacefully, spread across the bed in his usual untidy sprawl, the cuts and fading bruises still showing clearly against his skin. He stirred as Legolas bent and kissed him, then sat up, still looking a little disorientated. “Legolas? I …” he broke off as the door opened, and Elladan came in bearing a tray, with Elrond and Celebrían behind him.

“You are awake? Good! I have brought breakfast,” he announced. “I expect you are hungry, El – you have not eaten for over a week.”

“Hungry? I am ravenous!” Elrohir replied. “But first – can I get up today? I feel I have been abed for far too long; I want to be able to move about.” His gaze strayed to the window. “It is a lovely day, and I want to feel the sun and the breeze, and hear the sounds of the valley.”

Elladan helped Elrohir to his feet, but then stood back as his twin shook off his support. “I can manage by myself – I am quite capable!” he pointed out, steadying himself against a chair back.

Legolas and Elladan exchanged a glance of resignation behind his back. “Stop it, El – I know that look!” he snapped, without turning around.

Legolas chuckled. “Welcome back, little brother,” Elladan said. “Now I know you are well!” They stayed close to Elrohir as he crossed the room to the open window that led onto the terrace, and stepped out onto the stone paving.

Elrohir settled into one of the chairs there, and raised his face to the sun, breathing in deeply. “I feel better already. A week is too long to be abed!”

As they finished the bread and honey and fruit, Elrohir turned to look down the valley at the trees and distant waterfall. “I do not remember it being summer,” he confessed. “I thought it was spring. We had not long since celebrated our begetting day.”

“That was a few months ago, El. What else do you remember?” Elladan asked gently.

Concerned, Legolas drew closer, listening. He had not been surprised when Elrohir could not recall the battle – he knew, and Elrond had confirmed it, that short term memory loss of events that lead to an injury like this was common. But now it seemed as if the memory loss was for more than just a few days.

Elrohir smiled at him. “I do not remember you being here Legolas – when did you arrive?”

“Four weeks ago now. I came to see you – or have you forgotten that as well? What else do you recall?”

Elrohir frowned, raising one hand to his head. “It hurts when I try to think,” he admitted. “I remember training sessions. Patrols. Swimming in the north river, when the water was so cold from ice melt I thought my ears and fingers and toes would drop off!”

Elladan laughed. “Valar, yes. We do that every year – when will we ever learn?”

“I remember our begetting day,” Elrohir added. “For once I was able to surprise you, El. Elwen foaled at exactly the right time!”

Elladan stared at him. “Elwen?” he questioned.

Legolas glanced at him, wondering at the sudden tension in Elladan’s voice.

“The foal I gave you, brother?” Elrohir asked patiently “You named him Anroch. Or have you forgotten? My planning and timing was perfect.” He leaned back in the seat and pressed his hand to his head, blinking.

“Does your head ache, Elrohir?” Elrond asked quietly.

He nodded. “I feel dizzy, too,” he confessed. Legolas knew how rare it was for Elrohir to admit to any weakness – he must have been feeling weary indeed.

“You need to rest,” Elrond said, his tone firm. “You have been up for quite long enough for now.” He helped Elrohir to his feet and into the bedroom, leaving a tense silence behind.

“What is it?” Legolas asked. “What is wrong with what he remembers? Did it not happen?”

Elladan paused, looking shaken. “Oh yes, it happened. That begetting day – when he gave me Anroch …”

“Yes?” It was odd, he realised, that he had not seen Anroch. Elrohir was normally never able to resist showing off a new foal. He did not recall the mare, Elwen, either.

“It was nearly fifty years ago.”

To Be Continued …

Hi!

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 17:57:19 GMT

I've decided to open a second journal to post my slash stories. This one won't be locked, so will be easier to access for anyone who's not on my friends list. I'll still post everything to jay_of_lasgalen as well, so that won't be affected.