tawarwaith

Caro Meleth Enni [Make Love to Me]

Into the air of the autumn afternoon the tall trees of the Greenwood's deciduous population relinquished their collectors of Anor's light in a slow, relentless diminishment of foliage, unveiling their stark twiggy limbs more with each day that passed. Yet this was not like a rending of garments in despair over the demise of the lush beauty of laer [summer] for the Îdhben [Sleepers] mourned not the advent of their time of respite. Doron, lith, fêr, and lalorn, [Oak, ash, beech, elm] all welcomed the well-earned rest of hibernation.

Languidly, as if already drifting into dream, the Îdhben loosed their leafy garb and scattered whatever remained of fruit and mast. Distracted in sleepy disregard the woods flung away handfuls of gold and red confetti as though upon a parade of honour long since passed by beneath them.

The fragile remnants of spring's rebirth, now brittle and cracklely rather than pliantly resilient, drifted betwixt the canopy and the duff. In little twirls and somersaults the leaves twisted about, revelling in one last dance amid the interstices where Anor played before lying down in eternal repose upon the mouldy ground. Sundered from the trees that grew them, they would never again be as they had begun. Another layer added to the rich loamy mulch. In the peculiar cycle of death giving birth to life, the rot of the forest giants' own substantive cover would in a season or two provide the nutrients that strengthened their roots below and made new green curls burst forth from the brown barked buds of winter's dormancy.

Too recent was iavas' [autumn's] commencement for the ground to be concealed beneath the variegated detritus and so the nearly weightless tread of elven feet across the path gave no tell-tale crunching proof of their passage. Two there were, walking at a solemn pace, side by side, close but not touching, one with hair as pale and fair as the first gleam of Arien's smile at minuial, the other's locks inkier than the deeps of Aeron under the faint illumination of Tilion's shy salute upon his retreat.

Erestor and Legolas wandered amid the towering trees.

Legolas was not exactly certain how he had come to be strolling through Greenwood's majestic beauty with the Noldo Lord. The Council had been adjourned and everyone had filtered away from the starlit chamber until only he and his close friends remained in the centre of the room. No exuberant congratulatory hugs and smiles were shared as he noted the worry and concern on everyone's countenances. They were all staring at him as if his actions bespoke complete madness.

He found he did not want to converse with Fearfaron and hear lecturing about what was in his best interest and so avoided his foster father's eyes. Nor did he care to engage Mithrandir on an internal level and soundly shut out the wizard's insistent and silent demand for answers. That brought him an inward smile of gloating that he did share with the Istar; since his brief reverie within the tunnel outside Taurant's nursery, Legolas had been successful in controlling access to his thoughts.

Aiwendil seemed to understand his reluctance to argue anymore, and he supposed the wizard could sense the depths of his exhaustion and the strain imparted by the many threats thus far so marginally evaded. Legolas could imagine, by the determined expressions upon Aragorn and Lindalcon's features, that they were as eager as Fearfaron to spend as many hours as might be granted convincing their friend of his erroneous ideas. The archer simply wanted them to let it go and trust him; why could they not trust him just this once? Was it so impossible to accept that he might know more about the reality of that day's events than anyone else?

With a repressed sigh he turned lastly to Erestor and took in the wayward hair and spoiled clothes again. Legolas had not missed the unspoken communication between the King and the seneschal, and now believed Malthen was somehow responsible for Erestor's unkempt attitude. Worried over what this might mean, the wild elf met the advisor's contrite eyes.

"I would speak with you," he spoke and startled, for Erestor had said the exact same phrase simultaneously. They smiled hesitantly together and as their reunion undertook its tentative beginning Legolas heard an assortment of justifications and apologies while the rest of his friends suddenly found need to excuse themselves from his company.

Now he was here, ambling along the pathway in quietude with the Noldo Lord, neither of them able to utter a single word.

Abruptly the trees opened out into a little glen and they halted on the threshold of the hidden clearing. Legolas smiled sadly to find his heart had brought him here. This was his old sanctuary, the place where he had practised his archery alone, free from the criticism of his tutors and the mockery of the warriors, where he had tried to master the power of Oropher's purloined war-bow. Here he had fled when his loneliness became heightened by the proximity of so many elves within the city. This was the haven he had sought once he had grown too big to hide his sorrows in the arms of the Sentinel, whenever Malthen was in Lorien. Here he had first indulged in sexual fantasies of his guardsman.

Legolas laughed, a softly bitter sound, cleared the face of his first love from his mind, and strode out into the glade past Erestor, determined to rediscover the welcome of the land.

Before the Judgement Legolas had kept it tended and trimmed but the dell was all overgrown and untamed now. Like me. Stringy saplings shot up straight and branchless, topped with a fringe of stems like spiky antlers, surrounded by tangled stalks of grasses and wild flowers sporting the heavy, seeded crowns of fall instead of the luxurious colour of plume and petals. Legolas' fingers gently caressed one of the stripling oaks as he passed and the tree woke enough from only its fifth yearly slumber to acknowledge the honour, leaning into the forest champion's retreat to delay the loss of touch.

Legolas crossed all the way to the farthest edges of the clearing, passing a large stump where the remains of a mighty beech gave testimony to how close the evil of Dol Guldur sometimes came to the Wood Elves' stronghold. A brighter laugh and a smile over his shoulder at last invited the Noldo into the area.

Erestor slowly moved through the dried knee-high vegetation to join him, worried, for the laughter had sounded forced.

"Here is where my skill with the bow was perfected in my youth," Legolas said, indicating a faded and much punctured wooden disc covered over in painted hide, the red centre sun-bleached and the leather cracked and decayed by exposure to the elements.

Erestor reached out and drifted his fingers over the arrow-gouged surface and smiled back. "Many hours you must have spent to reduce the target to such pitiful condition." He observed the slight uplift and decline of shoulders made powerful by those long years of effort.

Legolas stood not two feet away and yet the distance between them was a gulf the seneschal knew not how to bridge so vast was its expanse. The wild elf was protectively withdrawn again, his arms folded tightly against his chest and his face turned away so that their eyes did not meet. Erestor could feel the pain and sorrow emanating from the warrior and desperately wanted to offer some form of comfort. He needed to find the means to open Legolas back up, for he was certain the union they had shared before had helped the heart-sore elf.

How to achieve this was a delicate dilemma, for he did not wish it to seem he merely lusted for the Tawarwaith in the absence of his bond-mates.

"This is far from the normal training grounds, is it not? No doubt you came here to spare the pride of your senior comrades. It must have been unnerving to the more seasoned archers to find themselves bested by one so much younger," he joked.

But Legolas did not smile, lost in the memory of the last time he had been in this glade. Like many of his recollections, it was not joyful. It was here that Malthen had informed him of the end of their affiliation. He could have chosen to tell Legolas in the privacy of his rooms, any place but this one, yet did not.

Malthen and Ningloriel had returned to Greenwood after a long sojourn in Lorien. Legolas had waited patiently in the clearing for his lover to come to him, for this hollow within the woods had become their trysting place, safe from prying eyes and ears within the fortress. Yet, for all the times they had coupled here surrounded by the glorious beauty of Yavanna's creations, the experience never neared the romantically erotic ecstasy that had dominated the young elf's imagination.

It was no different on this occasion. Legolas pleasured the guardsman orally and then Malthen wanted to see how his charge dealt with longing during their separations. And Legolas did not mind. He knew the sight of him masturbating, fingers deep inside massaging his sensitised core, whispering his lover's name, would bring Malthen fully erect again. The instant the archer's hot white seed began spurting Maltahondo took him. Hard. Fast. Dry.

Brutal.

And it was after this, while he was lying in exhausted culmination against the guardsman's chest, that the news was given. Legolas' mind had instantly cleared, realising in alarm they were not alone. The elf he was to be given to had been there, watching from the fringe of the trees, the unfamiliar odour of his ejaculation immediately overwhelming every other sense. The archer had scrambled for his clothes as Malthen chortled in amusement, saying he thought that was a bit premature. The three had spent the rest of the day and half the evening together, and Maltahondo had not left them until he had seen the new pair coupled, enjoying another orgasm during the display.

Legolas had cried when he was gone, finally realising it was all real and not some game designed to heighten the corpsman's pleasure. He would never again indulge in such intimate intercourse with Malthen. He had spent his tears upon the shoulder of an elf he barely knew, who now knew him all too well.

How foolish he had been to ever imagine Malthen returned his feelings! It was so obvious now that he had been nothing more than Ningloriel's substitute. Why could I not see this then? How did I not realise? He could not have her and so he took me. Legolas swallowed to choke back the tears threatening to rise and breathed in and out sharply twice.

And suddenly Erestor did not care about how to best approach his friend and simply reached out and wrapped his arms around the rigid figure, not concerned over being insulted, assaulted or rejected. "You may hit me very hard if you like, Pen-rhovan," he whispered, assuming the reaction was due to more recent memories of abuse. Affectionately he nuzzled his lips against the bound locks at the fallen warrior's temple. "Or perhaps you need a new target for your archery practice? I certainly deserve it. There are no adequate words to express the depth of my remorse for all the injuries you have endured, and my part in them."

"I need to get from this place," Legolas struggled to speak the despairing words, still stiffly unyielding in the seneschal's embrace, determined not to mourn over Maltahondo any longer.

"Of course, whatever you wish; tell me where to go," agreed Erestor.

But Legolas could not manage it and finally turned and slumped against the older elf, hiding his face against the broad chest as he fought the onslaught of the mounting pain. A gasp escaped and he braced himself, digging his fingers into the Noldo's sides.

"Ai, Legolas!" Erestor was alarmed, not realising before the full extent of the wild elf's distress. "I cannot bear for you to suffer so!" Cautiously he slipped one arm round Legolas' waist and with the other loosed the outcast's vise-like clasp from his body, draping the forearm across his shoulders. Erestor supported the weary warrior's halting steps back under the sheltering limbs of the forest.

Their progress was very slow at first but every stride away from the little glen seemed to help Legolas put distance between his heart and his grief. Gradually he found the means to stand up straight and Erestor let him pull his arm free, stopping him from getting too far away by firmly gripping his hand.

The wild elf looked up, bewildered to feel the determined tug, found the seneschal smiling kindly, and removed his scrutiny to their adjacent palms. After a second's resistance Legolas relented and allowed the persistent conjunction created by the encircling fingers. He was surprised to find the contact bestowed a calming effect and squeezed back, holding on tight as they walked.

He had no idea where they were going and did not care to think about it, allowing his attention to dwell on the comfort the Noldo's secure grip granted. The forest champion once more chanced to see where his companion's sight was centred and found the elder elf regarding him, the Imladrian's refined features transformed with the tension of his troubled thoughts.

"Alright?" he asked and Legolas nodded, turning his eyes back out to the trees at his left. Erestor took a short breath to steady his courage. "I should explain, or at least attempt to, about Elrond and…"

"No! Please," the emphatic reply was reinforced by a brisk shake of the Tawarwaith's long locks and a second endeavour to pull free of the confining clasp. He found the Noldo unwilling to relinquish their connection. Again Legolas let him win the tiny struggle and sighed.

Erestor refrained from any comment, fearful of speaking and injuring his friend again, glad in his heart that Pen-rhovan had not yanked away and bolted into the canopy.

They proceeded in silence for some time as the filtered light grew hazy in the long wavelengths of annûn's [sunset's] descent. Legolas became more relaxed as the ugly memory retreated back into the depths of his mind. The Noldo started gently swinging their clasped hands and the wild elf could not suppress a fleeting smile to see how hard the advisor from Imladris was working to just give him a sense of contentment and peace.

Such a simple thing, walking hand in hand. Erestor thought, relieved to notice the momentary expression of happiness that crossed Legolas' visage, gratified that his actions were soothing the tormented soul beside him. In a sudden burst of insight the venerable advisor realised he was the first to ever perform this small act of protective nurturing with Legolas.

A flare of outrage passed through his mind at the lack of gentleness in the archer's experience of love. It was profoundly wrong that Legolas had been denied the innocent pleasure of strolling in the carefree joy of contented companionship with a lover. He shifted his possessive hold and could feel the wild elf start to retreat again, but Erestor only repositioned his fingers so their digits became entwined, and grinned victoriously when the blue eyes found his for a second before darting determinedly back down to the leafy pathway.

It is definitely comforting. Legolas thought, both amazed and pleased to find this true. He did not want to be angry with the veteran of Gondolin, not after his actions before the Council and the King. And though he could not quite bear to enquire about it, Legolas was certain the seneschal had engaged Malthen in a personal battle to avenge his injured heart and sullied virtue.

For my honour! The disgraced warrior mentally sneered at himself over such a concept. Any dignity and noble bearing he may have once possessed had long ago been stripped from him. I have lain in lascivious lust with both my mother's lovers, the first when I was but eight-and-thirty. I should not have even been thinking of such things at so young an age. Yet, it gave him a very warm feeling to know the Noldo Lord would go to such lengths to defend his character. He wanted to thank the Imladrian, but feared to bring it up for then they would have to talk about everything, including Elrond, and those were revelations he could not confront.

And so they continued in unvoiced communion as the last of Anor's light turned to dusky grey.

The walkway took them back into the city where lamplight from talans spilled down upon the pair and before long they were passing others along the path. After more than a few sets of ogling eyes tracked them Legolas could not withhold his merriment and a brash guffaw trumpeting from his lungs.

"What is so funny?" demanded Erestor, certain he knew exactly what it was, pleased to hear the genuine amusement from the woe-weary archer, overjoyed to have a reason to speak that did not involve saying anything potentially damaging.

"Why you, of course," confirmed the wild elf. "Have you any idea how ridiculous you look? You are worse than an elfling who has been out on an adventure and became lost in the woods." He was only joking and was surprised to see the grave expression that overtook the Noldo's features.

"Aye, I did become lost on this adventure, but I have found my way again now."

Legolas could conjure no rejoinder and tore his gaze away, all at once finding the mixture of dirt and leaves at his feet fascinating.

Erestor stopped and turned upon the path to face him but still the disinherited prince refused to acknowledge the seneschal. With careful fingertips he tilted up the bowed head of golden locks.

As his face pivoted skyward Legolas' eyelids rolled down and his brow furrowed in aggravation determined not to look at this most unnerving elf and reveal his confusion. Why must he be this serious? Where is the debonair rogue, Berenaur? He was about to jerk away when the seneschal bent and carefully pressed a feather-light kiss upon the wild elf's frowning lips.

Startled, Legolas froze. Another genteel compression petitioned his stern, unrelenting mouth and then withdrew.

Not with passion and fire, not with demands and desires did Erestor woo the Tawarwaith's wounded heart, but with gentle tenderness. When no response was granted he did not desist but offered the same caring caress over and over until finally Legolas' mouth lost its stony grimace and parted to release a slow sigh against the seneschal's.

Kisses.

Legolas absorbed the sedating sensation.

Ephemeral impressions of desire upon his lips, a whisper of contact then a ghost of a draft, a hushed sibillation part worship, part entreaty; his name exhaled. He breathed it in.

Soft, like the sound of summer rain on wet leaves.

The questing touch returned, paired pliancy meandering over his upper lip, a tongue tip dabbing down dreamily to taste the depression between the crimson peaks of the perfect bow.

Warm, like the tingling radiance of afternoon sun caressing bare skin.

Supple sucking secured his lower petal, now full and florid, for but an instant, leaving a gossamer glaze of moist delight.

Luxuriant, like the plush pelt of a sable lynx.

Fingertips traipsed the line from cheek to jaw, tendrils of vibrating exhilaration washed through him, collecting in the pulse points of awakening arousal. His body began to sing.

Delicate, like the elusive scent of wild orchids opening under the silver shimmer of a moonlit night.

How could he resist such tantalisingly tangible courtship? The wild elf shed the barricades thrown up to hinder further hurt and joined the playful pas-de-deux. A tilt of his head, so, and the Noldo's dipped right to capture his mouth and savour the sweetness therein. A brush of his nose on the seneschal's lips prompted a nip at his chin. A flickering lick impelled a brief exposure of the advisor's teeth as he promised access to richer treasures and taught Pen-rhovan the steps of romance's minuet.

Legolas smiled into the labial libations and mimicked every action, each caress.

A duet of whispery, heady exhalations arose from their mouths' lengthening conjunction and reluctant severance as their souls sought one another. This yearning ache spurred increased cohesion and their lips gave way in muted pops and softly sucking sighs of wet, warm, red flesh.

"There are words I must say to you," Erestor whispered between kisses.

"I cannot speak your name," the low, regretful reply filled the next interlude.

This stung Erestor's soul, yet now that Legolas was participating he was even less eager to curtail the stimulating experience, even to correct this error.

Again and again their mouths met and the Noldo would alternately take his lover's lips or let Legolas stroke his between those mobile and expressive ruby petals. Or they would both approach, equally parted in open invitation, and seal carefully together, softly wrapping just the tips of their tongues together, trading tastes, neither trying to push past the innocence of their osculation to plumb the depths of passions each knew the other possessed.

Their hands remained locked together, Legolas holding on with almost unbearable rigour. His free palm had found its way to the small of the seneschal's back and was there firmly seated.

He has never been kissed this way.

This thought filled Erestor with sadness for all that had been stolen from the wild elf. His lovers had eagerly instructed Legolas in carnal pleasure, but no one had ever made love to him. The revelation brought Erestor the answer to his quandary, however, for the Noldo had begun to despair of a means to overcome the archer's craving for violent intimacy. There were undoubtedly many other things no one had ever done with the archer.

No one ever touches him.

Erestor soothed his hand down the Tawarwaith's neck and let his fingers slip beneath the collarless shirt. He felt the ripples of excitement run through the younger elf's body. He smiled and pulled away just enough to gain air to speak.

"Shall I tell you what I am going to do, Pen-rhovan?" he breathed the query against the archer's crimson tongue as it darted out briefly to curl against his upper teeth. When it returned to the darkly delicious orifice Erestor's followed right behind and teased the muscle with little lapping licks. He was rewarded with an appreciative sigh and a delicate bite upon his bottom lip, right in the very centre.

None has bothered tell him what makes him so alluring.

Erestor retreated just enough to see his partner clearly and his spirit swelled with joyous desire. Legolas' hooded eyes were fixed upon the seneschal's mouth, watching for the tongue to appear again, panting slightly through parted lips, silently offering access. The Noldo willingly entered. He had not enjoyed this romantic preliminary to foreplay so much in centuries. They broke for air reluctantly, lingering over their moist massage.

"Shall I?"

"What?" Legolas could scarcely get the syllable out, a whimpery complaint of bewilderment. How could the advisor prefer talking to this other more exquisite use of his vocal organ?

"Tell you," an impetuous buss on the mouth, "what I am going to do with that magnificent body of yours?"

"You… my… what…?" an inarticulate exclamation interrupted the ambiguous answer as the seneschal claimed the archer's ear tip unexpectedly. A deep tremor ran through Legolas' limbs when the fleshy appendage was released.

"I think I will start with your ears," Erestor continued in mesmerising undertones of besotted bliss. "Such exquisite ears!" He tongued the swirled crevice between the outer rim and the interior shell. "These points, so decadently long and tapered, tempting me so blatantly. I shall suck them until they tingle and burn as your red-tipped cock does right now." He moved as though to follow through and Legolas tensed in anticipation but the seneschal's deep carmine mouth never engulfed the throbbing pinnacle. Instead, he breathed against the inflamed cartilage, forcing a strangled groan from the archer's throat.

"Next, I will unloose your hair," he murmured his sultry soliloquy as his free hand smoothed over the back of the wild elf's head and tangled in the trailing tresses, "this mane of reticulated gold. I want to feel this voluptuous silken flow caress my skin, every inch of it: tickling over my stomach when you devour my seed; teasing across my chest as you ride me, impaled and impassioned; dancing upon my spine while your shaft plunges inside, filling me with your essence. Valar! You are so beautiful, Pen-rhovan!"

He was delighted to find Legolas staring at him, eyes impossibly huge and dilated, mouth softly shut but ready to welcome another intrusion at the slightest signal, a faint stain of crimson growing in his cheeks. Contemplating the detailed images these unexpected declarations have raised in his mind? Erestor grinned with that thought and raised disbelieving brows at his lover's discomfort.

"You have surely been told before now that you are fair, Pen-rhovan," he insisted, suspecting he had not. "Are you trying to make me say it again?"

At that the blush broke out in full but the archer smiled devilishly and nodded. "Aye, I would hear more," he demanded and cocked his head to entice another kiss, but Erestor did not oblige.

"Very well," he said but instead stepped ahead and pulled on the wild elf's hand, coaxing him to move forward along the path. Looking back, he smirked to see Legolas walking a little awkwardly; it was evident he was fighting the urge to readjust uncomfortably tight leggings.

Erestor halted him in the midst of a centralised, multi-tiered crosswalk comprised of footpaths below and branchways above. High in the trees slender bridges, single silken strands of hithlain, linked them, trunk to boll. From within their homes escaped the dulcet sound of Sylvan voices lifted in song, and though not all were singing the same tune the entirety of the sonorous music was harmonious and soothing. Erestor smiled down into Legolas' questioning expression and began the kissing flirtation all over again.

Despite the public location and the likelihood of being discovered in their amorous exercise, Legolas readily succumbed, joining in with relish as the advisor's free fingers eased between the ties of his tunic and shirt, stroking across his breastbone with the faintest pressure. The Tawarwaith moaned and sidled closer, hoping to encourage those tormenting digits to fondle his already peaked and throbbing nipples.

Erestor graced one impossibly tight and pointed tit with the faintest flick and felt the warrior twitch in wanton desire.

"Then I shall strip you." Erestor broke from Legolas' mouth and began again just where he had left off. An exhilarating constriction in his crotch accompanied the shocked gasp that fled his lover's lips as his hand was practically crushed in the archer's grip.

"Should I start at the top?" he pondered huskily and searched the wild elf's eyes boldly for an answer, letting his fingers temptingly tug on the garments' closures. He chuckled softly at the almost imperceptibly nodded assent. "Nay, I shall have the choicest delicacy first." His palm slipped in a slow indulgent slither down to the archer's groin and shamelessly groped the restrained erection.

"Saes! Úsí!" [Please! Not here!]

"I would have these leggings off, Pen-rhovan; that rosy, rigid shaft exposed for my delight! I shall slide back the slick foreskin and hold it thus to more easily partake of the liqueur welling at the slit."

"Saes!" Legolas could not help the involuntary pivot of his pelvis to increase the tantalising contact.

"Saes man?" [Please what?] Erestor's hand roamed around his lover's hip to cup a tautly rounded derrière.

"Telithan sí avdharil!" [I shall come here if you do not stop!]

Before Erestor could continue the repartee a series of suppressed snickers and giggles captured their notice.

Legolas abruptly pulled back to find they were the objects of much amusement for three couples, warriors and maids, approaching from the opposite direction. Embarrassed, he tried to get his hand loose but the Noldo would not let him free. The group walked past them quickly, growing quieter and glancing with sympathetic grins at their champion, his face buried against the advisor's shoulder.

"Forgive me, I was a bit carried away," pleaded Erestor and patted the shaking form pressed against him.

"Valar! We cannot continue thusly here, Bere…Eres…Ai!" Legolas' countenance had lost its glaze of aroused passion and his eyes became as dark and moody as a stormy sea. "I cannot call you that! Let me go!"

"Nay! You need not despair! Wait, Legolas, listen to me. That is not even my name, not truly!" Erestor was frantic to prevent this disastrous interruption from terminating their encounter and held on tightly, locking the archer's hand within both of his.

"Do not be false; everyone knows who you are!"

"Aye, but that is just one of the names I bear, and the least important."

"I do not know if I should believe that. How many have you got and why?"

"Three, like every self-respecting Noldo," Erestor said with feigned indignance. He watched Legolas' expression carefully as he brought their bodies into complete contact and let the wild archer feel the solid distension confined against his thigh. "There is my mother-name, my father-name, and the name I gave myself. You know the last and have used the first, but it is my father-name that is most appropriate."

"And what is that?" Legolas could not deny his curiosity.

"Sigiland [Long-knife]," the seneschal said matter-of-factly but accompanied the word with a hearty shove of his hips that sent his restrained member grinding against the Sylvan's groin.

Legolas sucked in a tremendous lungful and then burst into an echoing round of light laughter at this double entendre, which of course Erestor had intended. The wild elf all but collapsed against his lover as he let the jovial mood replace the near panic threatening just moments ago.

"I do not believe you," he repeated giddily once he was able to draw breath.

"I swear it is absolutely genuine," insisted Erestor.

"Well I cannot call you that either," laughed the wild elf with an appreciative survey of the seneschal's clothed anatomy, "No matter if it is true." An intense vision of the Noldo's impressive extremity pounding into his arse as he cried out for Sigiland to fuck him harder, deeper made Legolas shudder. He grew more serious and searched his friend's eyes hopefully. "I like Berenaur, [Brave Flame] is that also a real name?"

"Aye," Erestor hugged him, heart soaring, "my mother named me so at birth. I would be honoured for you to call me thus again."

"Berenaur," Legolas sighed and leaned up to kiss Erestor, timidly almost. "It suits you, for your bold defence of my person shines like a fiery torch against the darkness I must defeat."

At these words Erestor was speechless and could only hold the younger elf close, their continuously interlocked hands pressed between their heated bodies.

"We cannot stay out on the pathways all night." Legolas whispered, leaning his brow on the Noldo's cheek. He closed his eyes with contentment, inhaling deeply the scent of their mutual desire.

"Tell me where to go and I shall get us there," said Erestor as he stroked the archer's supple back and rubbed his cheek against the unruly hair. But he did not wait for a reply, instead the Noldo tempted the Sylvan to present his lips for further adoration and once more the two lovers became lost in the sensual exploration.

"Follow this trail, the one along which grow those nodding white bromeliads," a female voice, Gladhadithen, replied from behind Erestor but he was unwilling to allow this surprise to interfere with his slow seduction. Legolas, however, giggled as his eyes darted to peer, quizzically mischievous, at her smirking visage.

"At the end of it is a tall oak, the largest by far in the vicinity." She grinned at the forest champion as she spoke, still addressing the Imladrian advisor. "Up close to the canopy is a secluded talan. All you require is already there."

The seneschal now recognised the speaker as the healer from the council chamber, but before he could reply he sensed her leaving them.

Legolas took the initiative and resumed the oral enticement, giving voice to his needy longing in a series of barely discernible, imploring cries with each respiration.

Erestor slowly withdrew from Legolas' ardent kisses and smiled to find the younger elf drawing closer to prevent their separation. The Noldo let him continue for a bit, fingers drifting up and down Legolas' back as he enjoyed the attention.

"Come," whispered Erestor, finally taking the next step along their path.

The avenue of bromeliads was breathtaking to behold, even in the vanishing light as Anor retreated beyond the horizon somewhere far from the green boundaries of the Wood Elves' homeland. Narrow and winding, wandering between an avenue of evergreens, the byway was a purely Nandorin construction that, while cultivated by elven hands, maintained a distinctly natural appearance, as though Yavanna herself had devised the design of the trail.

The limbs of the pines merged just above head height and formed a veritable tunnel of foliage. Through and among the interwoven limbs the long narrow lances of the epiphytes' banded leaves protruded. Nodding on delicately dendritic bracts of translucent jade, the sprays of white flowers limned in green, accompanied by clusters of deep indigo berries, draped the brush-needled plumes of the bunya-bunya [Australian evergreen pines]. From these blossoms a faint scent of sweet nectar spilled, as if the star-shaped cups of the plants held not rainwater but honey in their depths.

Someone paying close attention would comprehend that the maze formed the symbols for feä and hroa, and at the very centre the words merged, and in that place grew the majestic oak harbouring its hidden talan high in the canopy's cover. Only after traipsing around the entirety of the living puzzle could this tree be reached.

The close of day done and Ithil obscured from sight in the living channel of meandering tenebrity, the only light available was emitted by the two eldar moving in moderated haste along the way. Erestor scrutinised Legolas' ethereal glow surreptitiously lest the fallen archer notice. The Wood Elf's gentle radiance had never been visible so plainly to the seneschal, for he had always seen it under lamplight or moonlight, and of course in sunlight it was felt more than seen.

In truth, the Noldo was both charmed and concerned, for his companion's hazy corona was but a slender husk of gleam that scarcely extended beyond the elf's skin. While Erestor's body shown with a refulgent and dreamy apricot-hued aura, the feral warrior's only shimmered faintly like the surface of an iridescent pearl. He knew not if this was normal for Legolas or an indication of his reduced physical state and, while admiring the beauty of such a sheer gloss, he was worried.

His light is insufficient to brighten more than an inch beyond his nose. Perhaps it is some adaptation exclusive to Sylvans., he reasoned. For it could not be advantageous to be easily spotted among these dire woods.

It was not a thing he had previously considered, that different types of elves might not cast the same glimmer about them. Erestor had always assumed the natural luminescence of the eldar was but a remnant glister of the stardust from which they were all composed. Not having such complete eclipse of external illumination under which to make the comparison before, he now wondered if the variations extended between individuals as well, for certainly no other elf save Pen-rhovan could have such remarkable lustre.

His hair had turned from gold to argent and his eyes reflected a shade of sea-green that surely did not exist anywhere else but within this flesh-bound extension of the Spirit of the Forest. Lips flushed and full from being kissed at length were as dark as cinnamon, and when they parted in that endearing smile his teeth were just like dew-covered ivory. Erestor found his breath stolen away. If Legolas was glorious in sunshine and tantalising when caressed by flickering tongues of lamplight, he was nothing less than captivating in the magnificence of his unique nimbus.

Still clasping the archer's hand, Erestor impulsively yanked him over to the path's edge and plucked a blossom from one of the plants. The stem he wove through the felted locks at Legolas' temple and the wild elf laughed. But suddenly the Noldo gasped and stared open-mouthed at the flower.

"What ever is the matter?" demanded Legolas, quickly feeling the spot where the older elf's eyes were currently glued in bulging amazement.

Under the influence of the Tawarwaith's effulgence the bloom fluoresced, changing from white to icy blue, while the green rinds of every petal gleamed a soft, warm yellow.

"Nay!" pleaded Erestor. "Do not take it out; it looks wonderful! Do all the flowers turn new colours when they are near you? I have never beheld such a thing before in all my long life."

"I do not know; I have not been adorned with flowers before this night."

"By Elbereth, I would not have imagined I could so easily endure pitch darkness!" sighed Erestor. "Have I said yet how lovely you are?"

"Once, and promised more but 'til now said naught again," scolded the fey Sylvan, but added: "The air around you is lit as if a cloud of fireflies clothes your body!"

That compliment made the advisor pull hard on their linked hands to draw his lover into his embrace for a long and heady kiss, no longer free of the passionate heat rising throughout his being. When he withdrew his tongue he was physically shaking and heaving to draw breath, and grinned as they leaned on one another for mutual support. He felt the wild elf's heart pulsating against his chest as Legolas insinuated loose fingers amid his ebony braids. Wet, cool lips sought out a tender spot behind the seneschal's right ear and latched on. Erestor growled and shivered.

"Take me right here," the breathy demand met the coils of his inner ear and sent his senses into tumult. The younger body undulated side to side, the hard swell in the soft leather breeches teasing his flesh and Erestor had to fight to keep from ripping Pen-rhovan's leggings off and fulfilling that request.

But he did resist, for he knew what Legolas was up to and this time he would not let the misused warrior direct their passion, forcing the violent penetration he was so accustomed to receiving. Erestor took a deep breath and a step back from Pen-rhovan.

"Nay, that shall not be, impatient one!" His spirit ached at the confused look of hurt that momentarily flashed through those aqua tinged eyes. That was followed by a sheen of delighted lubricity dancing into the altered irises.

"Ah, then I shall have you!" came the triumphant retort. Legolas had the leggings open in a trice and would have been down on his knees with the engorged penis down his gullet had Erestor not expected that and clamped his hand over the archer's biceps to keep him on his feet.

"I will not see you thus, kneeling in the twigs and the dirt!" he hissed in tones that were nearly angry.

"But why?" Legolas flinched and sought to get loose. "I do not understand what is wrong?"

Erestor released both holds in order to take gentle possession of the distraught countenance before him and tenderly kiss away the worried tension around Legolas' eyes and lips.

"Nothing is wrong, Pen-rhovan." One hand dived to shove his escaping erection back under wraps and loosely close up the breeches. "You deserve more, that is all, and I intend to give you both pleasure and comfort this night. We have joined in abandonment and unchecked license before and this is a sensation you know. I would have you learn something else of intimacy than that. This night shall be very different for you."

With that declaration he wrapped Legolas up in a confining cocoon, bringing their dual arousals back into alignment, and recaptured the willing mouth. This time it was Erestor who swayed against the archer's lean and lanky form, eliciting a tremulous cry from the fallen prince.

The seneschal disengaged and again grasped Legolas' by the hand. "Come," he coaxed once more and headed further along, eager to reach their destination and begin the imminently pleasurable instruction. Yet there was hesitancy in Legolas' gait and Erestor looked back to find the wild elf's eyes cast down and his shoulders hunched in apparent distress. He halted and reached out to lift the lowered gaze and then let his palm come to rest over Pen-rhovan's heart.

"What is it? Do you not wish to continue?"

"Nay! Oh! I mean, aye," Legolas' faltered and shook his head to clear his mind. "I do, but this way is reserved. I know not if we should stay on this path."

"How do you mean reserved? Surely the healer would not direct us to someone's private abode."

"Not in that sense exactly. But you can see this track is taking us deep into the woods, can you not?"

Erestor had not noticed and looked around in alarm, not that he could distinguish anything in detail beyond the gleam of their combined auroras. Suddenly he understood why. The tunnelled avenue was dark not only due to the interlocked limbs overhead. The path had taken them so far beyond the stronghold's city that no lamplight from nearby talans shown down upon them.

"What does this signify, Pen-rhovan? What do you fear?"

"The place this leads us to, it is set aside for newly-bonded couples only. You and I, we are not. We should, mayhap, go elsewhere."

Erestor squeezed the Tawarwaith's fingers tighter, struck to the core by the evident pain in Legolas' voice as these words left his lips. Sighing, he reached his arm around the archer's back and held him close. Desperately searching his mind for the right words to speak to ease away this insecurity, the seneschal was terrified his statements might once more tear open the barely closed lacerations in the warrior's sorely wounded feä.

What could he offer Legolas, really? He had feelings of deep compassion and friendship, strong physical attraction and ardent passion for the wild elf. But empathy was not love and friendship's bonds were unlike those of souls eternally merged. These things he could not provide in the fullness that Legolas deserved.

Was the strength of their friendship enough to warrant the sensual satisfaction he desired to give and receive? Was he mistaken again, believing his actions to be beneficial only to evoke some fresh injuries and unleash unforeseen havoc in the wild one's existence?

"Ah, Pen-rhovan, I know not what is best for you," he ruefully admitted and soothingly rubbed the tight shoulders. "It is true, what we share is not as intense as soul-binding. Yet, it is more than a casual coupling I would offer you. What to name this thing escapes me, love; I but understand that you are somehow part of me now. There is peace within me where before I had an ancient ache, and it only left me upon encountering you."

Now Legolas was surprised for these were not words he had thought to hear and could not fathom what the advisor was referring to. He stood back at arm's length and peered silently, intently, searching the Noldo's eyes for any dissembling. He found nothing within those smouldering orbs of black heat but an earnest yearning to reveal this secret wound.

"What is this hurt?"

"It has been there so long I had stopped giving it any notice," Erestor shrugged. "It is the guilty grief over the deaths of my father and sister. They sacrificed themselves at Gondolin so that I could escape. That is not what Ada said, but it is what they meant, and I let them do it. They knew I was afraid and feared I would falter and shame them." A small note of bitterness had crept within the tail end of this speech and Legolas' fingers abruptly covered the frowning lips to banish it.

"Nay, I believe that not! Any facing such horrors would feel dread, that does not mean you failed your loved ones. Neither are you the master of fate, Berenaur. The decisions your family made were not due to lack of faith but rather a sense of duty to Turgon their king and their love for you. This devotion aught not be sullied by such misgivings in your heart. Had you remained and perished with them, do you really think they would love you better? You honoured them and respected their free choice and most likely gave them some small sense of peace, knowing you would continue here. You did not cause them to die," he said solemnly.

Erestor smiled and took hold of the fingers, pressing them first to his lips and then against his heart. "I realise this now, but had not believed it before meeting you. A crueller doom than yours I cannot imagine, yet somehow you have turned it into a benediction. There is a grace about you, Pen-rhovan, that you have willingly poured over me."

"You speak of my bond with Tawar," Legolas remarked concisely, glad to understand what all this was about and set the Noldo straight. "That is none of my doing; it is a gift to me also."

Erestor was not surprised that the wild elf believed this fully. How oft has he been told, by both word and example, that his existence is shameful and nothing good can arise within him?

"And is that part of it," responded Erestor gently, "the way you do not claim any of the credit? Tell me, was it Tawar that spared my life and gave me aid? Did the Spirit of these trees overlook my faults and wrongs? Did Greenwood instruct you to return my careless indifference for your suffering with complete trust in our joining?

"Nay, you do not even need to answer, Pen-rhovan, for even I understand your actions do not spring from your service to Tawar. Aragorn told me you denied the call of your trees in order to safeguard him and the wizard, to keep inviolate a vow you spoke.

"You behave thus because it is in your character to do so. It is a completely natural part of your existence, your feä demands it like the hroa requires breathing and rest. That is why everyone realises you could not have been guilty of neglect of your duty at Erebor. Everyone except yourself."

Legolas was staring in open-mouthed astonishment and the seneschal simply could not resist. He leaned in and kissed the younger elf deeply, hoping to impart something of the overwhelming effect the archer had on him. Erestor broke the kiss and inhaled his lover's rapid suspirations, laughing softly at the imploring light flickering in the glimmering, half-mast eyes when the Tawarwaith presented him his parted lips again. He took them.

A series of slow osculations followed. Erestor let the wild archer suckle his tongue and drink of the air in his lungs, sample his lips. He allowed Legolas leeway to plunge his oral muscle within, a wave of questing titillation breaking upon teeth, cresting in a bounding surge against the roof of his mouth. They both became light-headed and simultaneously ceased to regain their equilibrium.

Legolas grinned as he let his head drop upon the Noldo's breast; Erestor smiled in equal delight and held him.

"And I find I want to nurture the same qualities in myself, Legolas." He began his oration again. Erestor was fully determined to be in command this night, and he was not done with what he wished to say. He smirked when Legolas' eyes popped wide in disbelief.

"Valar, are you not yet finished?" he said in hushed exasperation.

"Nay, and do not interrupt me, young one, show proper respect for your elder!" he teased back, but soon grew serious again as he gazed into the vibrant eyes regarding him, wonder shining forth disguised as embarrassed disregard.

No one has ever told him of his merit.

"Aye, it is true. I want to be worthy of my bond-mates' eternal love, to believe Adaren a thêlen [my father and my sister] would proudly boast of my deeds and name me honourable, to feel inside myself not a sense of apathetic despair but rather a welling of purpose and…and something to believe in. I find that I believe in you, Legolas.

"I have not the means to explain it properly for I have not experienced this before. But you have given me these things I so acutely craved without ever realising they had gone missing from my soul. It took an Age of time for this embitterment to blemish my spirit yet you have driven it out in a matter of weeks.

"I admit that I am selfish. I am seducing you; I want you to impart more of the same; I do wish I could bind you to me so that I may partake of your grace whenever my strength wanes. Yet I cannot offer you the entirety of my soul in exchange. Neither is your spirit completely free from entanglements and past wrongs.

"Still, there is a part of my heart that now responds only to you, Legolas, and that I do beg you to accept. Say that you will allow this, let us continue to this place of consummation, for I have vows I would declare to you, not in words and golden rings but with my very substance. Let me make love to you, Pen-rhovan, and hasten the recovery of your feä."

Erestor did not wait for a reply, covering the almandine mouth with his before Legolas could even begin to construct an answer, initiating another lingual exchange in that most ancient of living languages. When he released to find air, the seneschal transferred his oral attentions to the throbbing vein in the slender pearlescent neck, sucking and lapping, tasting and nipping the delicate ivory skin.

No prompting was required to get Legolas moving on the path this time, for the archer was the first to set forth, intent on reaching the talan and having the Noldo show him these new pleasures only dreamed of over long centuries of pining for Malthen to render such attentions. Just hearing these words was a mental stroke to his libido. Maltahondo had not once said his character was worthy of emulation or his innate disposition contained admirable virtue.

They went a few metres and Legolas halted to steal another breath-quenching kiss, hoping he was making his consent to Berenaur's proposal quite clear. To posses exclusively even a small fraction of this elf's heart was more than the fallen prince had thought possible and he was afraid the Imladrian would regret his overture and retract the bid.

"I think perhaps I shall start at the top after all," Erestor huffed out as their mouths disengaged with a sloppy wet sound that was absolute bliss to his hearing. He glanced to see the wild elf's perplexed visage and inwardly smiled; he had returned to his detailed list for the evening's program and Legolas had not caught on yet.

"Yes, I desire to see if your nipples match the dusky dark brown of your lips under the sheen cast by your argent aura." Erestor made short work of the ties and laces of the tunic and shirt and pulled back the fabric, exposing one cinnabar coloured nodule of pert and delectable flesh. He stood back a bit to better appreciate the heaving chest and its tempting pinnacle of mahogany pigment.

"Oh, beautiful," he breathed and then stroked the plump protrusion, pulling and squeezing as he invaded Legolas' mouth, penetrating to taste the depths of his throat, savouring the fractious wails issuing from the wild elf at the double stimulation.

"Ah!" Erestor exclaimed, relinquishing both delicacies. "So sensitive! I believe you like that even more than Penbara does!" He flicked the tapered point back and forth beneath his fingertips and watched as Legolas threw back his head and shimmied in unbridled delight. "Shall I suck on these while I fuck you?" The more experienced elda chortled at the expression of hopeful scepticism flickering across Legolas' face as he attempted to picture exactly how this might be accomplished.

"Aye, it is not impossible," he assured and carefully pulled the fabric back in place as Legolas whimpered his displeasure. Erestor gently rubbed his fingers over the hard nub hidden beneath the silky material, bestowing another feather-light kiss on the gulping lips before snatching back his eager pupil's hand and moving away down the path again.

They reached the oak tree soon after, out of breath and with no clear notion of having stepped the distance. Somewhere along the way Legolas' belt and shoes lay discarded on the ground and all the ribbons from Erestor's hair adorned various branches amid the evergreen arches. The seneschal's tresses fanned around him, unfettered and tangled from Pen-rhovan's fingers wandering through them. Legolas' tunic and shirt were undone and hanging loose off his left shoulder whence the Noldo had thrust them aside to place reverent kisses all along the scar on the archer's clavicle. They gazed up into the limbs, unable to see the flet; one in consternation for how to reach it, the other in barely contained expectant curiosity.

The bonding-night talan was off limits to all save those newly bonded and, prior to their occupation, family members who arrived early in the day to prepare the temporary dwelling according to the tastes of their kin and traditions of the Sylvans. Legolas, with no siblings and no cousins, no uncles or aunts to see bound, had never been inside the secluded bower. He had resigned himself to the belief that it was a setting he would never encounter, either as one of the decorators or as a claimed elf. He was very pleased that he would now have the knowledge first-hand and prior to his younger siblings.

"Eru's arse! Must everything here be either buried underground or at the very top of a tree?" complained Erestor.

"What are you grumbling for?" laughed Legolas. "Do you not climb up to a talan when you go to Lorien?"

"Aye, but there are stairs to reach them by, or at the very least a rope ladder."

"Ah, then their traditions are a bit different. There is a sort of unofficial contest that goes on between the new-bound Woodland couple, just about now."

"Oh? What sort of contest?"

"It is a race, and the stakes are quite high." Legolas was grinning and also blushing, which made his fair skin take on a warmer tone under the influence of his misty nebula. He looked the colour of hearty, golden Dwarven ale and Erestor was drawn to touch him.

"Really?" he whispered as his fingers trailed down the faintly bronzed chest to circle a tightened point of brown. A few strands of the silvered hair were parted around the nipple. "What sort of race might that be and what do I win should I best you?"

Legolas looked down to the hand caressing him and reached to lay his fingers upon the advisor's wrist to direct the movement and enhance the sweet sensation. His breathy moan was enough to inspire Erestor to push the locks aside and bend low to lick against the tender, tumid flesh.

"You," Legolas began and tried to pull away. A blistering oscillation of libidinous thrill shot straight to his throbbing penis when the Noldo's quick bite prevented it. "Ai! Berenaur!" he gasped and almost lost his balance, grabbing the older elf's shoulders to prevent it.

Erestor reluctantly ceased his delectable sampling with a final swab against the stiff concentration of nerves, pressing the swelling bud down into the resilient firmness of the toned pectoral muscle. He heard the archer's choking half-croak, half-gasp as the nipple sprang back, jutting out even more from the stimulus. Superfluous on the male physique, but oh so essential for achieving the apex of delight., the seneschal languidly ruminised. Straightening up, he wrapped both arms around Pen-rhovan to provide a stabilising scaffold. He smiled and turned his attention to smothering kisses all over the absolutely adorable and wholly erotic expression transforming the exquisite features.

"The race?" he queried again with a smirky snicker over Legolas' loss of concentration. The Tawarwaith was completely at the mercy of his somatic reactions, eyes sealed shut, lips parted, body nearly limp in his lover's arms and yet simultaneously straining for greater contact. The concept excited the Noldo Lord more than he thought possible to endure much longer unrelieved.

"Race…" murmured the disinherited prince vaguely and sought Berenaur's mouth hungrily. They broke to respire. He felt warm hands sensually stroking up and down his spine and shivered all over, the tremor ending in a healthy, albeit restricted, cock-bob. Legolas drew a deep lungful and his mind cleared. "The goal is the talan. First to reach it gets the choice for the evening's initial coupling position."

"Valar!" Erestor exclaimed at such boldness. These Woodland folk are not shy in the least! That was a prize worthy of heroic effort and he dearly wanted to win the competition. Yet he was severely outclassed in tree climbing when compared to any Wood Elf. "It is not level odds," he grumped, "for you are naturally acclimated to this environment. We must do something to make the contest fair."

Legolas frowned. He had rather been counting on that to be the victor and gain the right to claim Berenaur immediately. He had a strong desire to repeat their first encounter, without the unpleasant prelude. Still, the seneschal had a valid point and the warrior did not want to wound the Noldo's pride overly much by showing off. "What do you suggest?"

Erestor thought in silence a moment and then lascivious mirth sprawled across his countenance. "You shall go naked except for wearing my boots upon your nimble feet!" He found Legolas' expression, veneered with incredulous lust, especially gratifying.

"Boots!" he protested heatedly and shook his head before breaking into merry giggling. "They will be too loose and I am unaccustomed now to such. Aye, that will even our chances. I accept the terms!"

The advisor from Imladris bent awkwardly to tug off his footgear, hopping a bit to retain his balance, reflecting that in all his centuries he had never heard of such a thing. Legolas was apparently unconcerned about the required nudity, eager to undergo the traditional challenge. He wondered what his bond-mates would do if he suggested this little game. Orophin shall have to wear one and Dambethnîn the other!, he thought and laughed aloud at the mental image.

"What?" asked the Wood Elf and Erestor raised his gaze to find the fey creature standing in all his natural perfection before him, smiling, one hand at his hip, the other slowly massaging his thigh.

The seneschal ceased breathing as he beheld the image displayed for his discovery alone. Flushed with his aroused passion, Legolas' skin had turned the hue of honey new from the comb, his long twisted tresses moonbeam dipped, eyes softening to pale aquamarine. Lips, nipples, and the erect organ all were engorged and stood out in dark contrast, beckoning the Noldo to partake of the amber coloured extremities. The archer's shaft pointed right at his lips and the tiny opening exuded a few drops of shining silver liquid just upon its peaked crown.

It was more temptation than Erestor could resist, and why should he? He grasped both the Woodland warrior's biceps and backed him to the trunk of the ancient oak, kissing the pliant lips eagerly, demandingly. When Legolas' back impacted the tree, Erestor dropped to the forest floor and did as he had promised earlier, peeling back the delicate foreskin and sipping up the dewy essence, lapping into the slender slit to stimulate further secretion of the slippery nectar.

"Berenaur! Valar!"

Legolas' shout of excitement was more than enough encouragement and Erestor took the entire length of the rigid, slender sex down his throat, sucking with delirious ferocity. He distantly registered attempts to speak entreaties and endearments but the syllables were all mixed together and virtually incoherent. No matter, the intensity of the pleasure he was giving was easily apparent as Legolas sank clasping fingers into his hair and held on.

He could feel the wild archer struggling to remain still and pulled back nearly completely off the inflamed cock. Erestor glanced up to find Legolas' huge eyes locked upon his mouth and smiled around the full, wet column. He waited until the younger elf's focus lifted to meet his, then drew the organ voraciously back in, sliding his hands around to cup the supple arse and shove, forcing the solid intrusion even deeper. Erestor repeated the procedure as Legolas strained to control his breathing and his body, but at last took the hint. He began hesitantly pumping on his own.

"Mmmmmnn…" the rumbling, low-pitched growl of appreciative enjoyment vibrated against the animated penis, inciting the Sylvan into a more vigorous rhythm.

"Aye! Nay!" Legolas tossed his head, wanting to give in and just fuck, desperately trying to refrain from such license for fear of choking Berenaur. He felt the hands against his rear again, pushing forcefully, and at last relented.

Bracing his hands on Erestor's shoulders, Legolas pivoted back and forth with gusto, abandoning caution in the face of such exhilarating friction as the Noldo's tongue swabbed against his cock and teeth scraped ever so faintly across the sensitised tissue. The sight of the long shaft, darkened and slick, sliding in and out of the sucking torridity of the maroon rimmed orifice excited him to new heights of carnal impetus. An aching, itching fever collected in the organ's bluntly rounded head; such intensely searing pleasure in so small an area was unbearable and yet too magnificently intoxicating to end. Dearly he wanted this experience to last and nearly sobbed to realise he could not suspend the impending flood. The fingers gripping his rear slipped away, some to carefully coddle his balls while others insinuated down between his cleaved cheeks and teased his body's entrance.

Legolas was vaguely aware that he was emitting the most feral sounding grunts he had ever voiced but soon lost even that level of rational comprehension. A ragged cry flew from his throat when one of the fingers plunged inside and wormed up to find his swelling prostate. Legolas shouted, a painfully expressive mixture of both regret and rejoicing for the act's completion, when the gland was softly stroked and initiated the surge of his vital syrup up through the engorged member. Transported beyond exaltation, a state of soaring ecstasy claimed his soul as the semen exited his body to be instantaneously consumed within Berenaur's being.

Erestor swallowed. The back of his tongue massaged the tingling tip of wild elf's cock and his fingers worked, both inside and out, to wring a final shuddering moan from his lover's lungs. He felt Legolas' legs trembling just before they gave out and so was prepared to support his weight, allowing the spent organ to slip from his lips and the sated warrior to slide down the trunk and into his arms. He cradled his partner compassionately, holding Legolas as his pulse pounded and his frame shook with exhausted spasms in the aftermath of the orgasm. The seneschal savoured the sensation, crooning soothing endearments, and kissed the head bowed upon his breast, lightly rubbing the lax arm draped about his neck.

"Oh that was wondrous, Pen-rhovan; your taste is an enchantment; your seed, an infusion of infinite vitality," he whispered.

No one has pleasured him thus, at his feet in adoration. Erestor's hold round him contracted, drawing Pen-rhovan tight against his chest as his heart swelled. The Noldo then helped him sit back against the tree, brushing the tangled fall of shimmery strands from Legolas' face. So many firsts for this one tonight!, and that thought alone granted him immense fulfilment.

Legolas was smiling dreamily, lungs labouring, a playful twinkle in those blue-green eyes. "Wondrous, aye," he managed as he gazed at the advisor in a peculiar amalgam of puckish awe. He took a further moment to regain more regular respiration.

"You cheated!" he accused quietly and joined in Erestor's laughter.

The depth of the darkness was impenetrable. Nothing beyond a few inches of fuzzy obscurity, a shifting mosaic of dancing, patternless patches of shadowy night, could even be glimpsed. The fleeting motifs of black over onyx were reminiscent of the after-images seen on the inside of the eyes' lids squeezed shut against a searing glare. Erestor closed his and after a moment opened them, hoping for the contrast to aid his perception, to little effect.

Bloody pit of endless void! How can thin air possibly be so completely impervious? It is as stifling and caliginous as the bowels of some foul Orcs' nest!

Yet in the absence of visual stimulus the presence of the Greenwood was more clearly apparent and the seneschal was uneasy with the immensity of the entity surrounding him. The whispering rustle of twigs and dry leaves filled the air and with every breath Erestor took it seemed he drew the disquieting murmurs into his person. The very atmosphere he inhaled acted to reveal him, delving into his marrow and bone to ferret out his deepest held fears and failings, disseminating the intelligence thus procured as each exhale poured back into the autumn chill. Erestor felt panic's first scream building and mentally upbraided himself.

Bah! It is but the active skittering of four-footers and birds searching out their evening meal! He gave his body a thorough shake to ease the tension collecting along his spine as he tried out this logical explanation for the distinct sense of being watched. Yet his gut warned that he was much too high in the trees to ascribe the subtle sonorance to nocturnal wildlife. Erestor had never before felt so acutely the sentient cognition within the wood-clad giants steadfastly affixed to Arda's bosom. Or rather, that this entity is so keenly aware of me!

Against the noise of his struggling lungs and pounding heart these other sounds were a striking counterpoint, filled with a guarded anticipation, as if the Powers themselves stood by observing, taking his measure, performing an evaluative sampling of his very soul. Far from the city he might be, but his carnal union with the woodland champion would be witnessed nonetheless.

With startling clarity the Noldo was swept back to the morning after the rains and relived the beatification worked upon the forest in the outpouring of the Tawarwaith's passionate fulfilment. Erestor found this disturbing, for the wild elf had been severely harmed by the acts done that night, yet the Greenwood had not been able to comprehend the nature of the crime committed upon its atheling. Then again, the forest had punished the seneschal continuously along his route to the stronghold, though the wounds his unguarded tongue had inflicted on Legolas had been unintentional and his heart had already opened to the fallen prince of the Woodland Realm.

And what is my status now? The muttering ether held only this hesitant, hopeful consideration of his existence; Tawar's opinion of his worth seemed precariously poised between despair and rejoicing.

Just as Legolas must feel, he thought, comprehension suddenly filling his mind. The Spirit of the Woods could only see him through the eyes of its champion. Then Pen-rhovan both fears and craves this night. Erestor's heart constricted in sorrow for a moment then surged anew with a profound respect and admiration for the young archer's courage. In the face of such disastrous previous encounters, he was willing to extend his trust once more; hoping for acceptance, steeling himself for the pain of rejection once the fire of lust had been quenched.

Nay, it shall not be thus ever again, should I be allowed a voice in determining his fate. Erestor sat straddling a sturdy limb, its diameter equal to that of his own arm but no more, back pressed reassuringly against the solid boll of the great oak, and prayed to Yavanna for the consent and blessing of the trees.

Yet, he must find Pen-rhovan first. Somewhere above was the feral elf, naked and ready for his lessons in lovemaking to continue. Surely by now the Sylvan had reached the sheltered talan and was probably wondering where his would-be lover had gone. The dread notion that Legolas might be up there waiting, feeling he was abandoned after all, gripped the seneschal. Why else would he not throw down a rope or at least light a lamp?

Why did I agree to this race in the dark?, he inwardly groaned and gazed around in restive disgust for his inadequacy. He had tried his best to make steady progress, moving up from one strong branch to another, sticking to those that seemed most likely to bear his weight without cracking. He must have gone two thirds of the way to the top before he came to this impasse. Nothing met his eyes but a series of slender twigs and stems, surely not hearty enough to bear him forward or support the bulk of his body's mass. He was stuck, fearing to go up and yet unable to face the yawning blackness beneath his perch.

"Legolas!" he hissed in a loud whisper, then mentally chided himself. For whom was he lowering his voice, these trees? "Legolas!" he called more loudly, training his eyes skyward to search for any indication of the faint silvery glimmer radiating from the limber, graceful body he longed to have back in his arms.

Abruptly a loud bumping and shaking among the limbs to his left signalled the rapid descent of something heavy crashing through the branches, followed by a dull double thud as the ground far below was struck with force. "Pen-rhovan!" he shouted now in alarm and tilted forward as much as he dared, trying to pierce the velvet cloak of ebony air.

"What?" the exasperated demand came from just below. Then the Tawarwaith sprang from whatever position he had obtained and his slender fingers grabbed onto the branch where the seneschal was now clinging with desperate fear.

Erestor stared in a mixture of relieved aggravation at Legolas. The wild elf had pulled his head and shoulders above the branch, wrapping one arm around to keep it tucked securely under his left armpit, his chest braced against the bark. The other hand was lightly resting on Erestor's thigh and the majority of the enticing body was dangling out in the air as he swung his legs lightly.

"What is wrong?" he asked again, but the anxiety was gone from his voice, replaced by a rather impatient tone of wheedling complaint, as he gazed upon the Noldo Lord and pulled himself closer to the tempting crux of the parted legs.

"I thought you were falling," replied Erestor sheepishly. Of course he would not fall, a Wood Elf could not lose balance in a tree. "What was that racket? I heard something hit the ground."

"And you thought it was me?" asked the woodland First-born in affronted surprise.

An expression very near to being a pout graced the voluptuous lips and caused the Noldo's heart to flare up in a flurry of excessive beats, luring him to bend lower and kiss them. Erestor eased the fingers of one hand out to caress the protruding edge of an extravagantly tipped ear and gave it a titillating tug. As the expected gasp of joy opened the Sylvan mouth, the advisor thrust in his tongue and explored lavishly, continuing the gentle squeezing, rubbing the sensitive collection of nerves, coaxing a string of appreciative but muffled exclamations from the archer's throat. His tongue retreated from the savoury orifice, replacing his fondling fingers, and Legolas pressed harder into the ardent, wet contact.

"Now do not be angry; I was but worried for you," he reassured between licks, working his tongue behind the delicate structure to the smooth skin below the hairline, tasting the salty evidence of Legolas' earlier excitation. He discovered the area was extremely ticklish when an involuntary twitch writhed through the suspended figure and a gurglely laugh escaped into the night. Erestor refrained from further teasing, fearing he might truly cause the wild elf to loose his grip. "What fell, then?" He closed his lips over the flushed tip again and softly sucked. Legolas' hand on his flank dug in painfully and Erestor yelped.

"Sorry!" the clenching fingers relented, the mouth returned, and Legolas sighed. "The boots," four ragged breaths followed this brief report. "Could not keep hold to them any longer. I am sure they will not be too badly damaged." Legolas presented the other ear, tingling as the hot, saliva-smeared skin of the first reacted to the sudden exposure. "Oh, yes, like that, like that," he whispered and shut his eyes as Berenaur obliged.

Erestor really could not muster up much regret over the loss of the footwear in the presence of such an erotic sight. He glanced over the side of the branch, suddenly wondering whether the archer was hard again, to see if he could spy the exposed genitals. He could just make out the darker outline of the resurgent member against the pale glow of the taut abdomen and a small grin curled the corners of his lips. Stretching out his leg, he ran his toe up the inside of the nude thigh and faintly nudged the swelling balls, and a sound that almost met the qualifications for a squeal erupted from Legolas where he dangled from the limb.

Breathing a silent laugh against the inflamed ear, delighting in the shivery wail his unexpected touch elicited, the seneschal was absolutely content. There was nothing Erestor enjoyed better than this, the slow awakening of a new partner's latent sexual appetite. He relished being the one to introduce a novice lover to the particular hungers of their own flesh. Despite Legolas' previous experience, he was more attuned to providing such stimulation and receiving harshness in return, and Erestor considered him a neophyte to the romantic arts. He wondered if he could make Pen-rhovan come right here, suspended in the air, and stroked the sensitive sac again.

"Valar!" Legolas squirmed and thrust forward, but could not connect with anything. He moaned and bowed his forehead upon the seneschal's knee.

"Ah, you do realise that you have broken the rules we agreed to," Erestor said softly as though their conversation had not been interrupted at all. "The contest is void and I win by forfeit!" his tone was one of victorious anticipation, never before so pleased to discard a good pair of boots.

"Nay, I did not!" Legolas' head shot up, eyes wide in bold contention. "Surely you must know I have been to the top already."

"Why should I assume such? You just popped up from somewhere below me!"

"I was after the blasted boots!"

"Oh really? Why did you not stay on the talan, then you would not have dropped them?"

"Because you never arrived and I feared you were stuck on a limb, as you are! I lost the boots on the way to find you!"

"Just admit it, I have won! If you had got to the talan already you would have left them up there for proof!"

The crestfallen expression on the archer's countenance proved he had not thought of doing that and rather wished he had. The rueful demeanour quickly decamped in favour of the stubborn defiance so frequently at home upon the fair features. Legolas knew how to end the argument and shuffled closer along the branch.

"Oh no, you have taken your turn and made your choice! It is my go now." With that he sidled even nearer until his head was nearly in the Noldo's lap. Before Berenaur could respond he reached for the ties of the leggings, using his teeth to aid in the one-handed unlacing. Quickly he pulled the burgeoning sex free and bent it forward to meet his gaping lips, wrapped his arm tight around his lover's waist, and drew him in.

"Ah!" was the only sound Erestor made, a cry of unrestrained excitement as Legolas, hanging off the branch, swallowed his cock whole.

Down and up again the silvered head danced twice and the seneschal delved his hands into the thick locks, pressing his spine hard against the tree for support. With a resounding pop the Sylvan pulled away from the heavy shaft which sprang back to full attention against the fabric of the Noldo's tunic.

Erestor groaned and jerked with a faint shiver as the cool air drifted across the slickened flesh. With halting breath he watched as Legolas nuzzled his nose against the curly tangles surrounding the column's root. All respiration ceased when a maroon tongue flickered out and swabbed against the tautly stretched skin almost buried under the leather breeches. Then Pen-rhovan's lips parted and he sucked up one of the concealed testes, carefully rolling the sensitive gland within his mouth, and Erestor screamed the accumulated air from his chest.

Legolas let the warm brimming globe slip from his lips and smiled an impish grin up into the sweat-gleamed visage of the Noldo Lord. It was a most gratifying sight, the seneschal's mouth agape and his eyes staring as his lungs strained to contain sufficient oxygen to satisfy his racing pulse and sustain his rising heat, inky tresses a cascade of infinite night about his shoulders.

The archer went back to the object of his desire with fervour, murmuring a low pitched continuous hum as he impressed a line of nibbling kisses up the bulky cock, following the throbbing vein. Out flashed the crimson lash of his tongue to lap beneath the flared rim. He let the tip of his oral organ taste all the way around the lip of the tapered peak and teased the underside mercilessly before licking directly across the very crown. There he gathered up the moisture welling from the minute orifice before enveloping the head fully, letting his teeth discretely examine the firm flesh.

That was more than Erestor could sit still for and with a guttural bellow he thrust up his hips and shoved the long length of aching flesh deep inside the Tawarwaith's maw, bracing one hand behind him on the bark while the other remained ensconced within the thick fall of argent hued hair.

"Pen-rhovan! Ah, Legolas, saes, na Eru!"

Legolas stilled his body and took it all, suckling the distended penis greedily as a thrill ran through him to hear the advisor's heartfelt pleas for more. A sudden tingle jolted from the point of his ear and coursed like a blaze of searing star-fire into the centre his soul. Berenaur was ever so softly pinching the sensitive cartilage in time to the steady tongue-stroking. As the Noldo thrust his florid member in and out of the plundering mouth, Legolas longed for the burst of hot semen to flood his oesophagus and nourish his need to render satisfaction, yet wished he could keep the intensity of this decadent feast from ever diminishing.

Erestor could not contain his body's release for long under such intoxicating stimulus, however, and too soon he felt the brilliant flash of dizzying sublimation as part of his soul liquefied and merged with his seed, shooting from him in a blinding stream of glorious intensity. He did not hear his own shouts or note his erratically flexing hips, but felt fully the marvellous massage of the long tongue in the gifted throat drinking down his essence with zeal. He spun away into the hazy afterglow of this exquisite conclusion and just let his consciousness drift in the beauty of the moment.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, his eyes recorded the sight of the Wood Elf's face nestled against his crotch, his relaxed member being appreciatively licked all over. Erestor ran his hand tenderly over the tangled mane and Legolas raised his head. His sweet smile was a pleasing accompaniment to the Noldo's giddy grin.

"Had anyone told me before now that I could find such ecstasy by sitting in a tree, I would have pronounced them mad."

Legolas just smiled at that and rested his cheek against the advisor's loins.

The wild elf's arm was still wrapped snugly around Erestor's waist and it occurred to him that the strain from hanging onto the branch during such an incredible performance must be reaching unbearable proportions. Without a word he reached for Legolas, gripping him under the arms and settling him sideways across his lap. The lovely tapered organ peaked out from between the archer's legs and Erestor's fingers went right to the slippery tip to play with the foreskin before dropping to cup the hairless scrotum.

"Legolas, you are harder than the trunk of this oak," he sniggered as the Tawarwaith wriggled under the petting fingers.

"That is not my fault."

"It is mine, then? I suppose it is my responsibility to remedy the condition."

Incited by this reply, Legolas balanced his weight on Berenaur's shoulders and turned to face the advisor, one leg on either side, throwing both arms around his neck in a warm embrace as he drove his erection against the still damp skin exposed by the open leggings. "What remedy do you prescribe?"

Erestor willingly accepted the naked elda's head upon his shoulder, drawing him close and stroking the golden skin, gently smoothing the marred back as he sought out an inviting spot on the bared neck and latched his lips upon it, biting and sucking a mark that would be visible for at least two days. He could feel more than hear the faint sigh of pleasure from the amorous archer and smiled, hugging tight.

The rigid shaft kept poking insistently against his navel as Legolas continued to pivot on his lap. The sturdy legs were splayed wide, spanning Erestor's shanks, the supple rump parted and easily accessible. The advisor's fingers found there way within the cleft and felt for the cinctured entrance as Legolas caught his breath and suddenly ceased moving. The Noldo ran the nail of his thumb against the ring of muscle and made the opening spasm as the archer sought to accept the exploring digit. Erestor grinned and let his flirting hands run back over the toned gluteal mounds and up the graceful spine, ending on the strong shoulders where he rubbed and kneaded away the strain accumulated during their latest coupling.

"Then, you concede the race to me and I shall choose our initial position?"

Legolas' head lifted instantly and a vexed snort escaped his nostrils. "Nay, you have not won for you cheated by distracting me and sapping my strength before we could start."

"Then we are even now, Pen-rhovan, for I know not if I can move from this limb after your vigorously talented extraction of my essence."

"All right, we shall call it a draw. You and I are quite evenly matched, Berenaur," Legolas smiled into the dark glitter of the Noldo's eyes and leaned in for a brief kiss. "I think I would like to strip you now," he added with a giggle and set to work on the tunic, persistently rocking his lanceolate erection against Berenaur's stomach.

"Ai! Wait! Legolas, I need to move from this precarious perch, if you do not mind, before we continue," pleaded Erestor and grasped the busy fingers to halt them.

"This is a very sturdy tree and quite used to such antics as ours. Besides, it would never let me fall, nor you either for it knows you are dear to me," he admonished quietly. He respected the older elf's wish, however, and rose, holding out his hand to help the Noldo to his feet.

Once upright Erestor pulled Legolas close and claimed the alluring mouth that had just uttered such a romantic endearment. The taste of both their unique secretions mingled and mixed and the result imparted a sensually smoky tartness upon his palate. Possessive hands circled loosely round the archer's narrow waist and rested comfortably over the swell of the firmly muscled arse as though they were in the habit of finding their way there. He broke the languid tangle of tongues but ere their lips had separated more than a finger's breadth the Wood Elf reached up and framed the Imladrian's face in both hands and brought them back into oral union.

"Follow me!" he commanded with gruff breathlessness when he severed the contact and then leaped up into the darkness.

Almost at once Erestor felt a sensation he had quite forgotten about as the back of his neck twinged and a prickling tingle shot through his mind. He was absorbed back into the Tawarwaith's awareness of the Greenwood, and the places to put his hands and feet were located without his conscious effort to seek them out. With ease he scaled up the ancient oak in Legolas' wake, keeping the bobbing luminescent rear in his sight the while, and in short order he was standing on the high platform beside the fey Sylvan.

Now that they were so high in the canopy, the overshadowing network of branches relented and some small spots of star-dotted sky peered through upon the lovers. In the pale gleam, the shapes of furnishings could be determined and upon one of these the greater glint of a silver lamp winked under the subtle movement of the breeze swayed limbs.

Erestor went to it at once and found ready to hand a small flint. He quickly struck a spark upon the lantern's wick and filled the lofty flet with bright light. Holding the lamp up high he spun to behold his craftily won prize, lips pursed in feigned annoyance, but the stern expression instantly dissolved into a shaky sigh of appreciative pleasure. He had intended to scold the Tawarwaith for withholding this easy means of directing him upwards but the lamp's flickering incandescence was dancing all around the woodland elda, highlighting the slender physique and its lean-muscled angles.

Now that his own aura was no longer the principle source of illumination, Legolas was again revealed in warm hues of crimson and gold. Erestor let his gaze wander where it would, the intensity of his scrutiny verily palpating the rose-flushed skin, hungering over deep maroon peaks of sensual sensitivity, lingering long on the erect male organ. The proud penis rose from the silky cluster of honey-dipped curls crowded around the smooth pocket containing the source of Legolas' potency. Erestor's stomach flip-flopped in anticipation of what he was planning to do next.

Legolas remained fixed and watched Berenaur with shining eyes, barely breathing as he endured this examination, and self-consciously brought his hand to rest over the jagged scarlet reminder of the newly healed wound on his thigh. He had been surprised and pleased that the scars were barely noticeable without external light, and now almost regretted the oil lamp's presence. He was much marred since last he had lain naked in Berenaur's arms.

The seneschal noticed at once, and found his eyes searching for the other signs of Legolas' most recent battles, sighting the stark discoloration in his side, a fading line along his arm, an ugly mark around his ankle. There were others not so easy to see; Erestor had already felt them under his fingertips. It fired his rage to find these blemishes on the otherwise perfect form, but he struggled to master his feelings lest the wild elf misunderstand and read his anger for disgust or rejection.

"Come here," he called and motioned with his hand. There was a bench not far from the table and Erestor went to it, leaving the lamp behind. He heard the nearly noiseless step of the barefoot archer following and then fingers slipped into his palm, gripping tightly, and he felt the latest injury, scabbed over and rough. When he turned Legolas was there, staring up with that inscrutable look reflecting from the depths of those bottomless lapis orbs. Erestor patted the cushioned seat and stood aside as Legolas sat gingerly on the edge, never taking his eyes from the Noldo's face.

"Few bare such visible testimony to the quality of so valiant a spirit." He traced the outline of the spear's damage. "Would it surprise you to hear this does not detract from your appeal?"

The warrior grimaced and looked away. "I do not need to hear such falsehoods; it is enough not to have it mentioned!" he complained bitterly.

"I am not false." Erestor suddenly sprang upon his lover's lap and forcefully turned Legolas' head back to face him, pulling up his tunic to reveal the prominent organ bulging through the open leggings. His craving for complete union with Legolas had quickly re-ignited his desire. The seneschal grabbed Legolas' hand and wrapped it around both their cocks and together the fists pistoned the calid columns of compressed flesh. In unison yearning moans of urgency erupted from their lungs. But Erestor had no wish to spend himself this way and stopped as suddenly as he had begun, removing and entwining their hands, sliding away to rest on Legolas' knees.

The two elves stared at one another, audibly sharing the air, tense with their mutual need.

"Valar, get those clothes off!" hissed the Tawarwaith as his fingers tore at the ties of the garments.

Erestor immediately jumped up and out of Legolas' reach. He tossed his head, sending the long fall of his ebony locks swishing over his left shoulder. As if this were any ordinary preparation for an evening's rest, he undressed. Not with teasing laziness or in heated haste, but with casual nonchalance he tossed the tunic to the floor and began working on the shirt's closures. The look of covetous cupidity on Legolas' face indicated this seemingly calm restraint was having the desired effect. Slipping the silk blouse from his shoulders, Erestor flung it over the younger elf's head and smirked to see the offending obstacle yanked free and impatiently cast aside.

Legolas was breathing fast through parted lips and made no effort to hide his avid fascination during the sluggish unfurling. He could not tear his eyes from the smooth toned flesh of the hairless chest. He caught his breath as the Noldo flexed his pectorals and caused the pointed nipples to jump invitingly. The small protrusions were coloured so deep a brown as to be nearly black and Legolas longed to taste them. With tremendous restraint and a visible shudder, he reined in his need to touch and savour the revealed skin.

Hungering eyes tracked the seneschal's hand intently, following as it moved lightly down the sternum to his abdomen. The fingers reached the navel and paused to circle there then with utmost delicacy barely traced across the burgundy tip of the full organ. The commanding sex extended out in a graceful arc from its base amid the thick nest of black hair between the elf's legs, its naked head reaching the lower rim of the sensual indentation created by the umbilical scar. A minute whine of ravenous voracity escaped Legolas' lungs as the protruding flesh was pulled and pointed toward him as if in offering. The display was not complete, however, and so he waited, gripping the seat of the bench to hold himself still, lifting his expectant gaze to Berenaur's.

Erestor relinquished the massive member and slid his hands up to his hips where the gaping leggings had sagged. Slipping his thumbs under the fabric he pushed the garment lower, lifting out one long leg and then the other before straightening back up adjusting his balls with a flex of one hip. Of course his penis gave a most enticing wobble as well and he clearly heard Legolas vainly call upon the Star-Kindler's name. With a final flourish the seneschal kicked aside the breeches to join the discarded tunic and stood still for the archer's inspection, a seductive leer upending his darkened maroon lips as one hand indulgently stroked his sanguineous shaft.

"Magnificent," said Legolas in quiet awe, and let his eyes rove upon the exposed skin of the glorious figure. Berenaur was absolutely flawless, an ideal of balanced contrasts: black hair against pale white flesh, tall and lean yet broad of shoulder, well-muscled yet still elegantly slender and regally proportioned, exquisitely beautiful yet powerfully built. The Tawarwaith could no longer ignore his ardour and rose from the bench, intent on sampling every inch of the perfection displayed before him.

But Erestor was quicker and nearly pounced upon the smaller elf, pressing him back to the seat, palms against the ruby points of the creamy chest, pushing Legolas to lie flat on the bench. He planted one hand on either side of the archer's head and grinned down into the questioning blue eyes.

"Aye, you are that and more, Pen-rhovan," he murmured and took the ready lips. "Nonetheless, you could have used that uncanny link with the woods to show me how to get up here much sooner!"

"But then it would not have been a race!" Legolas secured one nipple between his fingertips and tugged, smiling at the satisfied groan this generated.

"True, but I would not have been stuck on that branch feeling ridiculous. My heart almost stopped from mistaking you for an old pair of marching boots!" Erestor sighed as Pen-rhovan gave the other jet peak equal attention.

"Yet but for that I would have missed the opportunity to appease your temper so enjoyably!" The Tawarwaith's hands drifted up to filter through the enticing length of inky locks.

"Oh is that what you were doing, Pen-rhovan?" he spoke absently, leaning over his sumptuous delicacy, licking his lips in salacious anticipation as he surveyed the tempting array of available spots to taste. Erestor made his choice and buried his nose in the blond pubic curls, inhaling deeply the intoxicating musky aroma of the Sylvan, delighted to feel the slender penis leap at the contact as Legolas' hands contracted around the bunches of hair he held.

"Aye, ilya fassë laurëa, orilya laurëa! [Aye, all the tangled hair is golden, golden all over!]" he murmured in Quenya and saw the colour rise higher in the wild elda's cheeks. "'Tis true, then? You understood that, even on our first encounter in the Southern Regions?"

Legolas shrugged evasively and trailed his hand across Berenaur's chest to the flat, hard stomach. The appreciative caress ended as he grabbed the crimson cock and handled it with practised expertise, watching his lover's eyes eagerly and smiling with wanton invitation.

"If I concede the race, what would you choose, Legolas?"

But Pen-rhovan's hand was holding him exactly right, pulling on his erection with the perfect amount of pressure, and the pace of the leisurely pumping was exquisitely timed to match the tempo of his quickening pulse. He threw his head back and leaned into the archer's able grip, rocking into the firm friction with enjoyment. Suddenly he reached for Pen-rhovan's wrist and stilled his movements, still gazing intently up into the branches as a smile found its way across his noble features. He returned his sight to the recumbent warrior and lifted his brows in enquiry, for no response had been offered.

Legolas was just staring at him as though spellbound, which indeed he nearly was, for the sight of the dark-haired elda astride his pelvis so casually employing him for pleasure had raised a compelling image in his mind. His mouth went dry as he pictured Berenaur's cock sliding inside his body, easing in and out in that same slow and steady rhythm, relaxed and redolent as he fucked. Every lazy intrusion would strike Legolas' internal centre with the broad, blunt, naked, red head. He imagined the sensation of the Noldo finding release, spilling in a long, writhing convulsion of his entire being. The vision almost made Legolas come and he inhaled sharply, not realising he had stopped breathing for a moment.

"Here," he managed to mumble. "Have me here, now!" He was pleading pathetically but did not care as he tugged on Berenaur's arms to try and pull him into kissing range.

"Aye," the Noldo agreed and met the questing mouth eagerly for but a short tongue tease. "That was my choice also. We are so attuned in this endeavour!" He stood and with a bright smile took hold of Legolas' hips and shifted him a little on the bench, bringing his rear just to the edge of the cushioned seat. He held one leg by the calf and lifted it up, settling the heel carefully onto a small ledge underneath that Legolas had not noted was even there. The other leg he placed identically, so that the archer's back was not uncomfortable and his feet were supported without being raised up at all or even spread apart.

Legolas was a bit confused as the arrangement did not seem conducive to fulfilment of his phantasm, but before he could voice any of his questions Berenaur suddenly crouched low to the floor and disappeared from his sight.

"Berenaur?" He made to rise and see what was going on but the Noldo got to his knees in a flash and pushed the archer back down, pressing upon the firm stomach.

"Patience! Stay still a moment. Trust me, Pen-rhovan, and you will not be disappointed." He smiled as Legolas relaxed under his hand, then returned his attentions to the underside of the wooden bench.

Legolas sighed and tried not to fidget as he listened to the Noldo feeling around the base of the seat's legs and tapping on the braces supporting the frame. A sound like a drawer being drawn open followed the seneschal's satisfied grunt. Next, it seemed the elf was rummaging through the contents of whatever this compartment was, picking up and putting back the items. This went on for a few minutes and then the wild elf heard a very smarmy sort of chuckle. His curiosity was about to get the better of him when Berenaur rose from the floor, grinning hugely.

"What…?"

"Shh!"

Erestor padded to the end of the bench by Legolas' feet and dipped below his line of sight again. Another smoky snicker issued from the region and then abruptly the end of the seat tilted up, coming to rest at a slight angle as the ledge for the feet moved as though split in two, which it was.

It was at about this time that the concept registered in the Tawarwaith's brain that this was not an ordinary bench.

Legolas nearly rolled off from surprise as the movement suddenly spread his legs wide and he felt a definite draft of air against his completely exposed anus. He gripped the sides of the seat and craned his head forward to stare with hugely round eyes. He could see the seneschal bent over fiddling with something and then the Noldo's face turned to him with a devilish grin. He felt the cool brush of air again and realised Berenaur was blowing across his opening. He shivered from crown to soles.

"I take it you have never played on one of these before?" Erestor asked with restrained mirth. He could see that Legolas was speechless, noting the very slight shake of the golden head and the nearly wary amazement crowding the indigo eyes. "Do not worry, I will make certain you enjoy this fully."

As he spoke he was once more working on the equipment and it sounded as though he was fitting pieces of wood together somehow, the noise reminiscent of a table's leg being set into a pegged or slotted opening made to house it. This was followed by the unmistakable sound of a cork being drawn from a bottle accompanied by the light aroma of fragrant oil of lavender. The auditory signals filling the room next were fully recognisable as that of hands becoming coated with the slippery stuff.

Legolas' body responded immediately and instinctively as his heart rate jumped and his cock filled to painful capacity. His insides bunched up into rigid knots, he contracted his annular ring so close the star-shaped pucker shrank to minuscule dimensions. Anticipating being forcefully breached, he sealed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

It shall only pain enough to please. Instead he heard the softest of exhaled sighs and felt a tender wet lick against the sensitive perineum. Legolas gasped and twitched as his eyes flew open. Before he could say a word he felt the slick, probing tip of Berenaur's finger circling his entrance with gentle pressure.

"Easy, easy! I am not going to harm you in any way. This will be different, but I promise you will not be injured." Erestor's soothing voice reassured as the slippery impact continued. The digit brushed across the cramped ring of muscle and pushed delicately but insistently until finally Legolas relaxed enough to permit the invasion.

Erestor wasted no time in finding the prostate and stroked across the small bulge several times. Encouraged by the bleats of pleasure the abused elf emitted, he inserted another finger and worked to spread the narrow passage wider. He took his time, aware that scar tissue was less resilient and would be more likely to tear than stretch. With his free hand he reached for the stiff erection and massaged firmly, coating the organ with a greasy film, until Legolas was close to ejaculation. Erestor withdrew the fingers and ceased his manipulation, moving behind Legolas to lovingly smooth his oily hands over the quivering flesh of the upraised buttocks.

"Are you ready, Pen-rhovan?"

"Aye."

Berenaur leaned over and licked across the scar on the exposed thigh and Legolas jerked, expecting quite a different sort of contact. Next he felt something very hard and cool against his anus and even as he tensed at the unfamiliar sensation the thick object entered him and he shouted in shock.

"Ai! Berenaur? What are you doing?" he sputtered out the words as the intrusive tool was slowly inserted, stretching him to accommodate its impossible girth. He was trying to remain focused on the elf but his lungs were heaving in the effort to endure the pressure. Never had anything other than a cock been in there and this was definitely not Berenaur's organ. An image of the dagger forced its way into his mind. Panic surged through his chest and he instinctively tried to kick his assailant away.

Erestor easily caught the darting foot and held it, softly massaging the trembling limb all the way up to the groin and back, as he cajoled the distraught elf into a calmer state.

"Does it hurt you greatly?" Erestor's voice wavered with remorse. He had taken care to prepare the body but neglected to compose Pen-rhovan's psyche. He had not considered what sort of unwholesome memories he might be triggering. "I do not wish this to give you pain; I will stop at your word, Legolas."

He saw the rapid shake of the tangled mane but the elf's eyes were hidden under the dark seams of his enmeshed lashes and his jaw was intractably clenched. The seneschal took up Legolas' penis, somewhat softer than before, and pumped it with smooth deliberate motions, encouraging the organ back to fullness and easing the tension from his lover's features. At last the blue eyes opened and found his, a clear command to continue within them.

Erestor resumed his efforts to seat the implement completely into the constricting cavity. Steadily pushing on the dark, oil-slick tool he watched in enthralled fascination as Pen-rhovan's body drew it it, accepting the foreign object degree by minuscule degree.

"Oh, Legolas, I wish you could see! Can feel me shoving it in deeper, deeper? Just let me, Pen-rhovan. Ah, Valar! It is huge and it is spreading you open, filling you, that small red ring clamping around it."

Legolas listened and his heart quickened as the demanding penetration resumed. His eyes drifted shut. He concentrated on the voice subduing him with its sultry tones, supplying an erotic image to join the sensation of being invaded by the unknown mass. And he found that it was exciting, being taken by this inanimate thing given life in Berenaur's hand, learning its nature with only his gut to supply his imagination.

At last it slid against the interior gland and Legolas shouted of his pleasure and eagerly pushed back to increase the sensation. He croaked out a shaky grunt of erotic torment when the object halted and the throbbing subsided gradually. Legolas could now feel a light contact against his buttocks as if he had a smooth flat slat or board balanced on his inclined arse. While that was interesting, his real curiosity was centred internally. He shifted his hips experimentally and groaned as the unyielding hardness rubbed his prostate. That was exquisite! He repeated the shimmying motion with a loud oath and his left hand flew to his prickling penis.

"Nay!" Protested Erestor and snatched the archer's hand with one of his while the other pushed on the gyrating hips, stilling him. "As enticing as it is to observe your responses, Pen-rhovan, I do not wish you to start without me!"

Legolas opened his eyes to find Berenaur gawking at him in undisguised lust and offered a weak grin. As he watched, the Noldo climbed back up to straddle his groin, letting their erections rub ever so slightly against each other, and he shivered in anticipation. Berenaur crawled up to kiss him and then transferred his tongue to suck and lap at his nipples.

The Tawarwaith laced his hands through the ebony hair and flexed his back to encourage the slurpy suckling. The movement initiated another grating rub of the solid tool inside his rectum and he howled under the dual stimulation.

He did not notice when the seneschal's hand dropped over the right side of the bench and grasped onto a small lever concealed just below the seat.

Erestor worked the lever and Legolas screamed in delight; the object inside him had just withdrawn a good three inches only to be shoved back right against his prostate. Chuckling to note that everything was in sound working order, the advisor grinned into the questioning eyes boring into his. He found Legolas' hand and guided it over to the handle, wrapping the fingers around it.

"Just a slight push or pull is all that is needed. Try it," he encouraged and sat back to watch, rolling his penis against the silky skin of the archer's scrotum carefully.

Tentatively Legolas pushed the devise and gasped as the penetrating piece shot even deeper inside him. He pulled and the object moved back like lightening until he was almost empty. Desperately he shoved both the handle and his hips to prevent that from happening and arched off the bench as searing scintillations of fiery brilliance danced before his eyes in the wake of the explosion of sensational pleasure coursing through his body. He was dimly aware of calling Berenaur's name and that the Noldo was speaking. For the life of him he could not really make any sense of the words. Somehow his hand was pried off the handle and he whined.

"Valar! Not so hard as that! I want you conscious while we make love!" laughed the Noldo Lord and leaned closer to kiss the wild elf deeply.

"Ulmo's Balls! What is this thing?" Legolas rasped out when the tongue retreated.

"Well, if it has got a proper name I never learned it. 'The Bench' seems to be the commonly accepted term. It is a grand toy, and if I ever meet the clever elf that invented it I will promptly kow-tow at his or her feet.

"It comes with a variety of implements to use, and most bonded pairs who have one make their own attachments, as loving gifts for one another, since they know each other's bodies so intimately. For your first time I chose a fairly traditional phallus shape, just a bit broader than I."

"And longer."

"Yes. Well. This one is made of wood, though I have seen other materials utilised, and attaches to a plank at the end of the bench so it stays seated just right once it is inside. Through an ingenious series of gears, springs, and hinges, the plank with its attached phallus can be manipulated as you have experienced. I think I should work the control the first time."

"Nay, I think not!"

"But I won the race, Pen-rhovan, you have already conceded!"

"We agreed it was a draw!"

Before the argument could escalate, Erestor flicked his wrist and shoved his shaft against the lean abdominal muscles beneath him, sending Legolas into spasms of delight.

Erestor had yet more surprises in store for Legolas. Even as the archer was still trembling from the glorious feelings shooting through his body, the seneschal stood up on the bench, each foot placed upon additional supports on either side and below the flat surface on which Legolas lay. He reached up into the air above him and withdrew a rope secured high among the tangle of branches. The hithlain cord was knotted to form a loop at the end and the Noldo held onto this like a handle as he resumed his seat.

And as he sat back down, Erestor reached behind, gripped Legolas' member, and impaled himself upon it in one forceful motion. He remained utterly still, head bowed and the midnight hued hair spilling all around him and over Legolas' chest, heaving mightily for several heartbeats. He lifted his eyes slowly and met the absolutely astonished ecstasy of the wild elf's gaze. He held that gaze as he pushed up to the brink of disunion then reclaimed the Sylvan spear and simultaneously worked the handle. The shudder running through Legolas' frame and the lusty shriek of pleasure that resulted added to his own exhilaration as the Tawarwaith's cock stroked his core and his balls lightly brushed against the downy golden curls.

Up and down Erestor rode his Pen-rhovan, using the rope to aid the strenuous action required of his squatting hamstrings, working the lever in concert with his movements to send Legolas into a state of bliss he had never experienced before. He had thought, based on the series of incoherent and guttural shouts, groans, and keening wails filling the talan that Legolas was beyond reason, until the steely strength of the archer's grasp encircled his cock and started pumping him. Their eyes locked and Erestor wished more than anything that he could kiss the full lips while the long shaft pierced him.

In an instinctively synchronous syncopation of grinding hips, thrusting groins, and pulling hands, the pair worked each other into blinding passion and rendered themselves deaf and dumb from the volume of their expressively inarticulate exclamations. They reached their peak together, Legolas squirting his seed deep into the squeezing channel of Berenaur's arse as he clamped around the phallus in his and milked the steady stream of warm semen from the Noldo's pulsing cock.

Erestor let himself collapse over the sweat-wet form of the slender golden elf, relinquishing everything in order to slide his arms up and drape them over Pen-rhovan's shoulders. He let his head fall heavily against the rapidly respiring chest, cheek resting on top of the firm knot of one red nipple, and closed his eyes with a contented sigh. Legolas' softening member was still inside and he liked that just fine. He felt his lover's arms encircle him limply and smiled at how heavy the light limbs felt across his back in the wake of such a thrilling expenditure of energy.

They remained thus for some time, dozing slightly as they reclaimed their breath and their strength, retaining as long as possible the dreamy euphoria of sexual elation. Neither of them ever wanted this feeling to end but it was not something to worry over for the night was early and this was but the premier of coital satisfaction. They simply cherished the union of their minds and bodies.

Eventually Erestor stirred, feeling a slight tension in Legolas, and carefully dismounted, leaning on the bench for support. He looked to find Pen-rhovan's drowsy grin observing him from half-lidded eyes of mellow blue haze. Their mouths fused briefly in a noisy kiss. Erestor had spilled all over Pen-rhovan's midriff and a creamy dollop of gooey sperm enveloped one of the scarlett nodes. The Noldo licked across the hard little nub and sucked it clean.

When he straightened up again, the nipple was all shiny with his spit and Legolas dragged his fingers across it with an eloquent sigh and a shuddery remnant of his orgasmic tremours. Erestor was very tempted to work the lever again and fought hard to resist the urge as his penis stirred under the stimulating mental image of Pen-rhovan writhing on the bench, begging and pleading in ecstasy.

"Legolas, how many times can you come in one night?"

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