Minuial o Rhîw (Winter's Dawn)
The first freeze of the season of fuin aind (the long nights) smote the
realm of Imladris with silent ferocity. This was not the gauzy glazing
of frost on trees' tops or edging of ferns in the meadows. No faint
shimmery coating of frozen dew draped the reeds and grasses at the
banks of the sluggish river's bounds. It was not a sense of
appreciative awe for winter's austere majesty that swathed the vale of
the Bruinen with soundless tranquillity, muting even the boisterous
stream's companionable chatter. It was shock.
In the passage of meagre hours, topsoil and mulch had transformed into
a fair semblance of stone, unyielding to the pressure of hoof or paw or
booted foot. No cheerful crunch of leafy litter made brittle by
winter's breath would soften the impact of locomotion. The earth
protested the early loss of summer's warmth, uplifting and breaking as
water crystallised and demanded more space, forming small jagged ridges
that zigged across the heaths and downs, a haphazard array of dendrites
mimicking the path of the frozen subsoil moisture.
That temperate, balmy southern breeze from yesterday's dawn had
vanished. The atmosphere was heavy with grey-bottomed clouds yet
utterly still as if the breath of Arda was parched by thirst and could
spare no effort of motion. The air was so cold it hurt to inhale; like
breathing a million minute needles that lodged in the sensitive linings
of the nostrils and throat. The smell of it was bitter, tainted with
the metallic elements of the blood rushing to fill capillaries at the
nasal extremity and prevent the tissue's demise by ice. Eyes likewise
braced against the assault of such frigid conditions; all but closing
to forestall the hungry air from snatching away the tears that hurried
to coat the narrow strip of exposed sight. Ears at least could be
covered by hair and hood.
It was difficult to surmise which effect of the brutal chill was
responsible for the sharp distinction of every sound: the increase of
vital flow to the ears or the motionless air? The less noted
articulations of life became accented, suddenly the theme of the waking
world's melody rather than notes within the undertone. The spread and
rustle of a sparrow's wings as it took flight from a shrub might have
been the flapping concussion of a hundred starlings rising from the
branches of an oak. The crackling of a thistle's stem under the soft
tread of a hare's foot could easily pass for the sundering of limb from
trunk. Such tenuous vibrations of the inert ether carried easily to
elven perception.
Perhaps the lack of other sounds magnifies the noises of nature this
day. Mayhap the nearness to autumn's mellow mood makes this early bite
of rhîw's (winter's) teeth sink to the marrow.
Elladan shivered. He stood upon the balcony overlooking the gardens his
mother had graced with her beauty and serenity all the years she had
dwelled within this sheltered abode. There was a bent-willow fan-backed
chair beneath the low spreading arms of an old apple tree visible at
the far corner of the yard.
Her 'reading spot' she would say and bid us join her there.
He breathed deeply of the barbed, incisive air and filled his lungs,
feeling the icy quills pierce every corner of his being, and resented
the cloud of warm, misted water that rushed out as he exhaled. Glad to
be in the extravagant comfort of the Last Homely House, rather than
some sombre camp in the wilds of Eriador, Celebrian's first-born
studied the pattern of the bedded plants and landscaped swards, trying
to find a key to her mind within it.
It occurred to him that just as he had failed to truly see his father,
so he might have been blind to his Naneth's reality all these many
centuries of timeless existence. He respired in discontent; the answer
eluded him for all surety regarding his family had disintegrated in the
night.
All save the unfailing presence of Elrohir at my side and in my soul.
Elladan did not need to hear movement to know his brother now stood
behind him, leaning upon the opened doors' frame, arms hugging round
his body against the slicing severity of the glacial weather.
Did she miss the Mellyrn whilst she resided here? I wonder.
Nay, she loved this place. She was happy in Imladris.
Or did we merely think thus because she so willed it?
Does not matter for they are one and the same. Our contentment was her
delight, always.
Elrohir smiled when his brother turned, grinning the exact same
expression of amusement Elladan wore for having reversed their roles.
He stepped back into the study, confident that Elladan would follow,
and went to the fireside to ring for refreshment. The soft click of the
balcony door closing confirmed his faith. Stirring the ashy coals, he
added in fresh kindling and wood and soon the fire was rejuvenated, its
rosy heat quickly banishing the nerve-numbing temperature from the
room. A burdened suspiration alerted him to his brother's location by
the untidy desk and Elrohir went to join him.
There had been no rest for them through the dark hours following the
exhausting exchange with Elrond, though they longed for retreat to the
solitude of their suite for at least a quiet hour or two. Their father
had retired to his bedroom just before dawn, drained after his
emotional outpouring and beyond ability to strategize over the inquiry
awaiting him in Mirkwood. The twins had encouraged him to relax and
restore his strength for the journey's rigours but stayed within the
private office rather than secure the same comfort for each other. It
was not clear to them if they were guarding the door, expecting him to
seek escape without their knowledge, or if they were simply too
melancholy to muster enough motivation to move from the study.
A quick inspection of the room as a whole reinforced the queasy sense
of disorientation, for the disruption of meticulous organisation
eloquently expressed the tattered disarray of their father's soul. A
stack of books lay in clumsy conjunction to the table's sturdy legs,
shoved from the surface to land by gravity's placement rather than any
individual's design. Two dispatch cases rested against the wall just
beside the shut door, their bulky solidity and buckled down hasps
accusing neglect of the contents within. A cloak was draped heedlessly
upon a chair beneath an elegant rack of gilded hooks, cast in the
shapes of stags' horns, mounted on the wall. The rich material dripped
off the seat and pooled in a lush lump of wool-lined fur. Upon the desk
reposed the jumbled pile of scrolls, documents, and letters dumped the
previous night by Elrohir.
Elladan was sifting through them, automatically sorting and
categorising the various papers. It was in this very room that the
whole mess had been exposed by his simple perusal of the accumulating
correspondence. He sent Elrohir a lopsided smirk over his shoulder.
And I thought I was being helpful, relieving some of Glorfindel's
burdens with both Adar and Erestor gone.
Well it was helpful. You did not cause this to come about, gwanun.
An audible gasp flew from Elladan's lips and brought Elrohir closer to
see what had instigated the involuntary action. Together they stared at
the parchment the elder brother held in his shaking hand, speechless.
The paper was small, a leaf torn from a book or journal, the ragged
edge curled up and frayed. There was no writing save for initials and
the date, indicating a lapse of two months from its generation to the
present. The content was a drawing, a posterior perspective nude of an
elf stretched out in repose upon a rumpled blanket.
"Elbereth!" Elladan whispered aloud, his finger tracing over the form
on the page.
The detail was exquisite yet unsettling for it left no question
concerning the brutality this unfortunate being had suffered. Every
scar was accurately depicted. The elf's hair was in horrible disarray.
The position of arms and legs bespoke collapse rather than restful
ease, for somehow Erestor had captured the deep fatigue wrought by
anguished grief. Elladan held nothing less than the seneschal's sketch
of the archer rendered on the morning after his brutal joining with
their father.
"Legolas," Elrohir said in miserable tones of helpless defeat. Elladan
only nodded.
The page had a scatter of discoloured droplets strewn across the lower
edge and one marred the clean design of the advisor's work.
Instinctively, Elrohir reached over and applied his thumbnail, scraping
it off; thinking it was probably wax. The instant he broke the surface
of the dried smear both brothers cried an inarticulate exclamation of
abhorrence and Elladan dropped the paper to the desk in disgust.
Disturbing the stain had released the unmistakable scent of semen.
The twins' eyes met, confirming each other's recognition of the donor's
identity, then simultaneously swivelled back to the carefully inked
figure. The paper lay askew within the random disposition of the desk's
contents, half curled, and in the faintly dancing firelight the image
was imbued with an erotic sense of trembling movement.
Abruptly, Elrohir strode to the window and glared over the barren
landscape. Elladan was there in a second, right hand finding its
accustomed place on his brother's left shoulder, and together they
stared out into the dawn as heavy, lead-hued precipitation fell from
the heavens.
It was sleeting in Rivendell.
North of the headwaters of the Bruinen in the Hithaeglir, one hundred
leagues on eagle's wings from the Last Homely House over mountains and
bottom lands, the same dawn shown upon a darker world that yet was
brighter than the rolling hills and heaths enjoying Vilya's
preservation. The brisk climate was even harsher at the higher
elevations of the Greenwood's arboreal forest, tucked between the Grey
and the Misty Mountains. The clouds brushed the towering tops of fir,
pine and cedar. The peaks of the highest cliffs were obscured in the
thick white flurry of small, dense snow crystals pelting down upon the
weald. Before the sky had been light an hour, every tree was dusted
with the pristine flakes.
Stirred to wakeful jubilation, the elves in the secluded talan of the
ancient oak in the heart of the lovers' maze snuggled closer and
burrowed deeper under down-stuffed quilts, savouring the heat of fused
feär and entwined limbs. The Tawarwaith and the seneschal had been
sequestered away from the cares and intrigues of the outer world for
four glorious nights and three exquisite days, cocooned in the growing
strength of their new-formed bond, indulging the sensual delights of
joined mates. Yet this dawn would be the last spent so removed from the
population and they must return to face friends and family, to share
the joy of their union's foundation with those that would be most
pleased to see it.
Or horrified and determined to ruin it!
Erestor could not help dreading the reaction from the carpenter and
Aragorn, neither of whom were likely to find his claim upon Legolas
healthy for the archer. The wizards' opinions would probably be
negative also based on Aiwendil's earlier comments and the dark looks
sent by Mithrandir throughout the trial.
At least the healer and the youngling approve.
He shifted and hugged Pen-rhovan closer, dragging the covers completely
over their heads as the snow made its way through the forest canopy and
breached the complacent comfort of their cosy nest with its tiny
star-shaped icicles.
"It is snowing," he whispered.
"Aye. Will you open the awning?" Legolas replied.
"I do not know how to work it."
"What do you mean? You managed with the Bench well enough. This is a
simple rope and pulley mechanism."
"Well I know not where the thing is kept."
"Valar! It is just above and to either side of this nest! You simply do
not wish to get cold."
"True, and I do not see why we should bother with it. Not much snow is
likely to get through the branches here."
"There is a rather large opening in the limbs directly over the
hammock. The coverings and pillows will be soaked through in minutes!"
"Why do you not get up and set it, then? I am unused to these swaying
heights."
"Ai! You are impossible!" Legolas grumbled and made certain to shake
all the covers off, ensuring his mate's exposure to the chill anyway,
and stepped on Berenaur's middle as he rose to open the protective
cover rolled up tight against the old tree's trunk.
Erestor let a soft 'ooph' escape his lungs as his lover made use of his
stomach for a step stool, but had to smile nonetheless. Legolas was
balanced on tip-toe as he reached for the ropes and unfurled the
tightly woven silk awning, his naked body quickly turning a soft rose
as it met the cold air, his stiff erection jutting out invitingly just
arm's length from the seneschal's face. Erestor really did not care
about the precipitation and reached up, taking firm hold of the rigid
penis and tugging gently to coax Pen-rhovan back down.
"Ai! You are impossible!" Legolas repeated, laughing as he wriggled
appreciatively and gazed down upon his dark-haired lover's dancing
eyes. He hastened to complete his task, grunting as Berenaur gave a
hardier pull on his protruding organ, and let himself be guided into
straddling the Noldo's waist. The tight grip left him and arms
encircled his shoulders, dragging him into full contact, and he sighed
in contentment, resettling to rest his cheek against Berenaur's chest.
The advisor's fingers delved into his hair, now lightly beaded with the
glitter of melted snow, traced the contours of his ear, gently raised
his chin so they could gaze upon one another.
Legolas could not stop smiling and Erestor had never seen his eyes so
bright, so free of pain and sadness, and that made his own grin stretch
impossibly wide. They could not look upon anything beyond each other's
faces and found therein everything required and more than either had
ever hoped or dreamed would be granted them. By the consummation of
their eternal commitment, the contemptible circumstances that had
brought them together had evolved into blessings from the Valar, and
the wounds each had singly borne so many centuries were healed in the
forging of their immutable bond.
"Alae! Gwedhim, Legolas," (Behold! We are bound, Legolas.) Erestor's
voice hushed out this glad announcement, even as it did each time he
returned from reverie to find the wild elf in his arms. He claimed his
new mate's mouth tenderly. One hand disappeared amongst the golden mane
while the other tweaked a cheek of the archer's lean and slightly
sticky arse.
Legolas let him control the kiss, revelling in the comfort of complete
possession, compliant to the whims of his heart's master. "Aye,
gwedhim," he repeated, panting softly, when his lips were relinquished
for the necessity of breathing. "Man si, Berenaur?" (What now,
Berenaur?)
It was a purely facetious question, however, as his sparkling lapis
eyes transmitted his avid agreement with the rapid escalation of their
desire.
"Si thelon le pathro, groth nûr ar sigilen land", (Now I intend
to fill you, delving deep with my long blade.) Erestor answered anyway,
leering lasciviously as he rolled to turn them on their sides and
secured his hold on Pen-rhovan firmly, pivoting his pelvis to rub their
erections together, dipping his head to taste the mark of ownership
adorning the Tawarwaith's neck. He threw one leg up around the wild
elf's hips for good measure and rocked harder as Legolas' salient penis
shifted and seated in the juncture of thigh and groin. They both ground
out a lusty moan.
"Oh, aye, caro, caro!" (Oh, yes, do it, do it!) Legolas crooned and
leaned into the suction upon his throat, head tilted over and eyes
shut, to encourage the mouth's progress upon his body. A strong shudder
convulsed him when Berenaur quickly shifted and sucked the tip of his
ear. He wailed, shoving his penis into the Noldo's wiry pubic curls,
longing for a tight, warm hole to accept it.
"Le echedithon addolad, lavel lîn lhewig erui." (I will make you
come again, licking your ear alone.), boasted Erestor with a smirk.
Legolas' eyes shot open and with determined effort he pushed Berenaur
onto his back, giggling at the surprised yelp this forced from the
Noldo.
"Nay! Le garithon sennui!" (Nay! I shall have you instead!), he
countered, fairly swarming over the prone body to get at the
seneschal's cock, lapping and licking with a hot pink tongue before
gulping it down. One hand worked the base of the engorged organ,
stroking and pumping in steady counterpoint to the lavish attention
bestowed by voracious lips upon the naked head and its wide flared rim.
Legolas cupped the heavy scrotum and ever so carefully squeezed. He
laughed around the dense column of flesh trapped beneath his tongue as
Berenaur shouted and squirmed.
The seneschal could have reversed their roles. He could have demanded
the dominant position and willingly would Legolas yield to such a
command. Indeed, the archer had surrendered so often and with such
whole-hearted abandon that Erestor had increasingly given in to the
exhilarating thrill of thoroughly subjugating his partner. Yet he knew
how much Legolas delighted in the sensation of being completely encased
inside confining heat and constricting pressure, thrusting against the
small swell of flesh that drove his lover to frenzy. Legolas quite
loved to fuck.
And it was no sacrifice to give in to him, for the younger elf had
amply demonstrated that he would undertake anything to ensure his
partner's ecstasy. Besides, it was not so much being taken by Legolas
as it was granting the silvan another means to fulfil his desperate
need to provide satisfaction. It was not at all like Orophin's forceful
and demanding penetration, which left no doubt as to which of them was
in control. Rather, Legolas was nearly undone just by the initial entry
into Erestor's body and almost wept struggling to contain himself long
enough to ensure his lover's pleasure first.
So Erestor relaxed, content in the knowledge that he was about to be
lifted into dizzying paroxysms of bliss twice. He sighed in delicious
salacity as Legolas palpated his balls again. Never letting the hard
flesh slip from his mouth, the wild elf then shifted sideways for
better leverage and eased the Noldo's thighs apart to prod the small
entrance to unadulterated paradise. His finger pressed in and wormed
unerringly to the precise spot guaranteed to produce elated passion.
Erestor grunted with impatient appreciation.
"Aye, there, Pen-rhovan, there!" he hissed with a whimper, realising he
must pull back from the torrid maw with its slick, fiery, massage in
order to bear down on the digit inserted inside. "Add another, saes!"
he pleaded and felt his rectal muscles stretching as the second finger
entered.
Legolas had both hands busy, one employed within Berenaur's arse
incessantly rubbing the prostate as the other worked in concert with
his teeth and tongue upon the bulging cock deep in his throat. He ached
for the seneschal's touch but dared not encourage it, for then he would
spend too soon and disappoint them both. He could not suppress a needy
whine as Berenaur tugged on his ears with either hand, boosting his
head up and down the length of the solid shaft. The seneschal almost
pulled him off and then with a howling cry grabbed his hair and yanked
back down, shooting a jet of thick and tangy semen over the wild elf's
palate.
The archer swallowed, sucked harder, plunged his fingers deeper and
growled.
Erestor shrieked and jerked up off the fluffy pile of pillows, flopping
back down with a gasping heave to garner air sufficient to prevent
passing out, blinding explosions of light dancing through his brain as
every nerve in his body resonated with the consuming orgasm.
In the silence that followed, Legolas kissed his way up the advisor's
sweaty, quivering body and draped himself over the Noldo, leaning in
for a slow, deliberate oral exploration that sampled every centimetre
of the gaping, gusting mouth. He delicately kissed each half-closed eye
and its dark, curved brow, the long elegant nose and the small dent
between puffing nostrils and ardently crimson lips. Legolas stole a
lick across both ear tips nestled amid the mussed black hair and
laughed to hear the cries of enjoyment this brought forth. He burrowed
his nose under the Noldo's jaw and tasted the damply pungent skin where
it met the throat, and considered whether to leave a mark of his own
there for all to see.
Instantly his hand flew to the site on his neck where the seneschal had
been sucking, biting and savouring him for the last three days and four
nights. It was tender to the touch there now, a rather exhilarating
kind of soreness though, for Legolas had never been marked thus before.
He sat up, smiling with lids furled as he cupped his palm around the
dark purple zone, feeling heat lift off it and permeate the skin of his
hand. A faint red flush overtook his cheeks and ears as he imagined
what his friends' reactions would be.
Erestor opened his eyes fully as he felt Legolas' slight weight but
substantial warmth leave his chest, found him sitting thus and was
paralysed in spellbound admiration of the vision.
The wild elf was settled on his haunches, the slender blade of his
penis thrust outward between the bent knees, skin marbled pink with
enkindled arousal, lips parted and eyes shut as if enjoying some
private dream. His face was tipped up toward the tops of the trees and
held at a slight angle as though listening to some pleasing strains of
music too muffled by the snow for any but himself to hear. His tangled
locks cascaded behind him but for a single thick twist of felted gold
that lay upon his left shoulder and draped against the exquisite
perfection of toned pectorals, curling at the end to encircle a pertly
inviting maroon nipple.
One slim, long-fingered hand overlaid passion's imprint and as Erestor
watched, breathless with longing, the other went unerringly to the
turgid organ between his thighs, massaging and stroking. With a lurch
of his stomach, the seneschal realised he was suddenly quite jealous of
those hands, smoothing and petting flesh that was his alone.
In that instant, Legolas' eyes flashed open and the light of his desire
shown brightly as he met the Noldo's lust-limned black orbs. He smiled
and pounced, landing with a threatening rumble of unsated hunger upon
his mate's chest while his unyielding penis jabbed against the
seneschal's belly. Pen-rhovan fastened his lips around Berenaur's ready
orifice and dipped his tongue in to meet the wet, beckoning muscle.
They exchanged curling caresses as hands mirrored their mouths'
activity, fondling and touching, kneading and rubbing every spot on
each other's bodies discovered to deliver heightened excitement.
Erestor broke the kiss.
"Why do you torment me with this unbearable anticipation?" he demanded
softly and was pleased to see the relief and gratitude that broke out
on his lover's features. Well he knew that Legolas still found it
difficult to ask for this particular favour.
Legolas propped himself up and shimmied across Berenaur's body,
grinning as this provoked an involuntary twitch in his mate's groin, to
reach over the side of the suspended hammock. The thoughtful creators
of the bonding bed had worked a clever net bag that was attached within
easy reach of distracted, aroused mating elves. The little pouch was
large enough to hold a vial or two of scented and soothing oils, a
packet of herbs good both for easing the sting of any bruising or
abrasions and, when chewed, extending pleasure and sustaining libido.
Usually a bottle of clear water and a soft silk cloth or two completed
the contents.
Fishing around blindly with his fingers, as his lips found themselves
too near Berenaur's dark brown right nipple to ignore thus preventing
visual inspection, Legolas could not seem to locate what he so
desperately needed. He frowned and relinquished his hold on the
tantalising hump of sensitised nerves as his mate groused in
disappointment. Their eyes met; the archer's clearly expressing a
combination of worry and frustration.
"What?" asked Erestor, reaching out to pinch an alluringly reddened ear
tip poking through the disarray of golden hair.
"Ai! Oh! I cannot find it," Legolas jerked under the contact and dipped
his head at once to resume his feasting, flicking the rising node with
his nearly drooling tongue. "You shall just have to," he continued
between licks, "finish me some other way instead."
This was not what the advisor wished to hear, having looked forward to
their coupling and the satisfying vigour of Legolas' cock bringing him
to rapturous ejaculation a second time. He took a handful of the unruly
tresses and pulled the eager mouth off him.
"Nay, I think not! You will not have me just because there is no oil
with which to coat this precious instrument?" he teased, squeezing hard
on the archer's engorged shaft.
"Aye, you know I will not risk any hurt to you," Legolas bucked and
moaned in his lover's hold but his words rang with the timbre of
finality.
"I did not say you should. There are other means to ensure you are
slick enough to glide right in."
Legolas barely had time to react to the sultry silk of the seneschal's
seductive words before he was thrown over to his back as Berenaur
braced against his thighs and began laving his cock with a soppy red
tongue. When the heat and moisture of the talented mouth engulfed him
completely, Legolas sang out an appreciative shout, wriggling under the
firm pressure of his lover's weight, unable to thrust up into the
tantalising stimulation.
Erestor was sorely tempted to continue until he extracted the
bittersweet essence of Pen-rhovan's release. He was fully erect again
and the sensation of this elf squirming under his hands, completely at
his mercy, begging for completion, was enough to steal away reason and
resolve. Unbidden, two fingers found and exploited the tightly
cinctured entrance into the searing constriction of Legolas' arse. In
and out he plunged the digits as his lover writhed, calling his name
over and over until even this degenerated into incoherent groaning.
It was not until Legolas wrapped his free leg up high around his back
and pressed hard that Erestor came back to himself and stopped,
liberating the archer's column, dark and spit smeared, as he pulled his
fingers free of the rhythmic clenching of the scarred passage. The limb
across his shoulders fell limply to the bed as he sat back. Chest
heaving dramatically as he sought to calm his raging desire to impale
the younger elf in one fast, forceful thrust, he met Legolas'
disoriented, questioning gaze.
"I think that is quite slippery enough now," he huffed out with effort,
eyes shifting back to take in the sight of the fully primed penis.
Excitement coursed through Legolas as he hurriedly reversed their
placement, turning Berenaur to his side and bending the upper leg at
the knee to expose the concealed opening. He scarcely registered the
seneschal propping himself up on an elbow and grabbing the leg to pull
it closer to his chest and out of the way. The very sight of the small,
flexing annulus was enough to drive him into a frenzy of delight and he
bent over, lavishing the tender skin with dabbing laps, just as
Berenaur had done for him, before driving the flexible tongue inside.
Berenaur's cries of enjoyment were sufficient to encourage him to probe
deeper, preparing the seneschal with these preliminary thrusts.
"Valar! Enough, I am ready! Please!" Erestor complained and pushed back
on the penetrating muscle, impatient for his lover's flesh to claim him.
Legolas complied, settling himself on hands and knees as he shifted to
bring his penis in line with the anal aperture. He caught and held his
mate's gaze as he drove slowly inside but stopped, throwing his head
back and trembling all over as he felt his foreskin peeled back when
the channel's rippling contractions gripped him, drawing him deeper.
"Berenaur," he murmured between heavy breaths, "it is like…like…nothing
I have ever known," he stammered, unable to compare the experience to
any other, for no sensation was this pleasurable and comforting at the
same time. Eagerly he rocked forward and shoved his cock earnestly,
angling for the small zone; the sensual centre he knew was there. He
struck it with unerring accuracy and smiled to hear Berenaur's call of
approbation.
"Again, Pen-rhovan; harder this time," he commanded and Legolas obeyed.
Back and forth he pivoted with steadily increasing speed and power,
spurred on by the seneschal's passionately guttural cries and the
raging need to touch his lover's soul and release the fullness of his
adoring gratitude for the love he had been given. Legolas spared a
glance at Berenaur's face and found the advisor watching him in
lubricious fascination. His heart blazed up and he drilled in farther
in order to move his body near enough to claim the Noldo's lips.
Berenaur's hand reached around and gripped the nape of his neck,
yanking him closer, insinuating his slithery tongue down the back of
his throat. Clumsily, Legolas balanced on one arm as his thrusting
became more erratic and he closed his freed fist around the seneschal's
cock, working frantically to bring them both to completion at the same
instant.
He was successful and they only dimly heard each other's triumphant
howls as they spent their semen simultaneously; Legolas coating the
Noldo's bowels with the warmly viscous extrusion while Berenaur's seed
ran like a flow of sweet, heated cream over his clutching fingers.
Their mouths disengaged and Legolas collapsed into Berenaur's open
arms, his twitching cock still inside as the organ relaxed and
softened. Neither could speak for being out of breath and just held one
another in contented peace as their euphoria settled into the serenity
of culmination.
It was a few minutes before Erestor realised the dampness collecting on
his chest was not the result of their combined perspiration. A shuddery
heave followed by a wheezy sniff alerted him that Legolas was spilling
tears freely. Immediately but carefully the seneschal repositioned
himself so he could hold Legolas close, lift his chin to have a look at
him, and keep the lovely genitalia ensconced within his backside, for
the contact gave the archer great comfort, he knew.
"Ai, ai! What is amiss?" he cried softly, for Legolas' eyes were
brimming over in distress, and Erestor kissed the liquid streaks as
they made their way down flushed cheeks.
"I do not wish to go from here, ever!" came the shaky and somewhat
petulant reply as Legolas tried to bury his face against his lover's
neck again.
Berenaur let him and snuggled closer, smoothing a comforting hand over
the tangled mane and crooning reassurance as he did. But then a
terrible thought jolted through him and his heart pounded for a second
in fear.
"You regret our binding?" he queried in anxious dismay.
"Nay!" came the instantaneous and startled exclamation as Legolas
lifted his head to look upon the Noldo. "I just do not want anything to
change, yet as soon as we leave this talan, everything will."
"Ah, Pen-rhovan!" Erestor laughed in relief and tightened his arms
around the younger elf. "You are wrong. It is not this dawn that ushers
in change nor the outer world that has been altered. It is you and I;
we have been transformed. This happened the night we agreed to come
here. Nothing can steal our bond away from us if we cherish it and rely
upon one another for strength."
Legolas was quiet as he thought on this and sighed as he accepted the
explanation, trying to silence the doubts and warnings singing through
his thoughts. His tears subsided and were replaced by steely resolve
glinting through the shining remnant of his apprehensive imaginings.
"I pray that you are right," Legolas answered him finally, "for I do
not wish to be parted from you." He leaned up to kiss the seneschal's
gently smiling lips and returned the expression when the embrace ended.
"I find that I love you, Berenaur son of Damand, Lord of the House of
the Swan's Wing, noble warrior and citizen of Gondolin, and my mate for
all time even beyond the changing of the world."
Tbc
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