Hîr o Meril Thaifn

Part Seven: Erestor Embarks on a New Career

Mithrandir strolled into Legolas' suite and through the small, cosy sitting room, stopping long enough to heft up the breakfast tray abandoned on the nondescript occasional table near the open doors by the porch. Without bothering to knock he flung open the bedroom door and paced over to the bed, smiling as his eyes took in the broad feather mattress and its conspicuous mass of sheet-obscured elf. The disturbance of his arrival prompted a cautious hand to snake out and pull the covers down enough to reveal the top of a golden head and two enormous indigo eyes. Gandalf laughed and shook his head.

"Come out of there, elfling, and take some nourishment now," he commanded and was gratified to see Legolas sit up, a wan smile on his face.

"I am not an elfling, Mithrandir," he said, but knew it was pointless, considering the wizard's longevity, especially since he had just been caught hiding under the blankets. "I thought you were Erestor."

"Nay, not this time. Will you humour your old friend and at least pretend to eat?"

"Aye, in fact I am famished and will devour the pillows unless something better presents itself. What have you brought?" Legolas shifted into a more comfortable cross-legged position, careful to keep his lap fully draped, and examined the tray with interest.

"Well, the tea is probably cold but the rest of it looks as though it might still be tasty." Mithrandir set the tray on the bed, his features puckering up slightly upon noting some small areas of dampness lingering on the sheets. It had been many hours since the elf's last bath. He searched Legolas' face for an answer.

"Valar! It is not what you think; I merely spilled water on myself," huffed the archer indignantly. He had not wet the bed since he was two years old.

"Mmm," said Mithrandir and looked around for a seat, dragging away the chair meant to serve the adorable little drop front mahogany secretary situated near the clothes press. "Those scones will be too dry without jam," he complained as he sat, frowning at the plain pastries with displeasure.

"Can you not summon it hence? Honestly, what is the point of having the skill and never using it?"

"I use it, elfling, when the circumstances require it. Would you employ your bow as a fork, shooting an arrow into one of those slices of bread and butter when your fingers are more than capable of transferring it from the plate to your mouth?"

"Nay, I suppose not," Legolas shrugged, not really interested in the argument for he recognised the delectable victuals as favourites from his childhood, baked by Tulus with him in mind, no doubt. He was munching with obvious pleasure and soon finished off all four of the scones, dry or not. That made him thirsty and he eyed the teapot warily. With a small sigh of resignation he poured out a cup of the cold liquid, sipping it straight without sweetener or cream. After the first taste his smile grew tremendous and he nodded in delight, for it was mint leaf and lemon camomile, the only tea he could stand to drink, and that Erestor knew this about him sent shivers down his spine. He guzzled down nearly half the pot before recalling that he had not bothered to offer any to the Istar. "Oh, sorry! Tea?"

Gandalf burst out laughing at this and reached over to pat the hidden knee affectionately. "Nay, I have already partaken of a fine breakfast with Dammand. Erestor had this meal prepared just for you, I would guess."

A soft blush stole over the archer's cheeks and he glanced back at the tray to see what else had been provided. In addition to the already consumed scones and the rich, honey-sweetened wheat bread smeared with thick layers of pale creamy butter, there was a bowl of blueberries, a little pot of soft curds, and a handful of crunchy walnuts. Indeed, every item belonged on his list of favourite foods, and Legolas felt his face grow even warmer as he contemplated Erestor taking the trouble to learn his preferences.

He, of course, knew everything the Noldo liked and disliked, from his favourite colour to what sort of scents made him want to rut like a buck during mating season, but had not thought Erestor had ever directed similar attention his way. Another shiver worked its way through his body and down into his groin, stirring flesh that had only partially relaxed in the first place. With determined effort, aided by a loud complaint from his ravenous stomach, he returned his mind to the meal.

Legolas snatched up the berries, cheese, and walnuts and mixed them all together in the bowl, exhaling a hum of anticipation as he stirred the lumpy mixture with his spoon. The first mouthful was divine, so much so that he closed his eyes as he crunched in bliss and completely missed the soft knock on the half open door.

Erestor's head poked around the barricade just in time to see the expression of absolute contentment that suffused Legolas' features when he swallowed the initial bite of the whey and fruit concoction. He came fully into the room, smiling to see his guest so improved and displaying such a healthy appetite, and looked on happily as Legolas scooped up a second serving and delivered it to his eager palate.

"Ah, I am going to enjoy watching you satisfy your needs, Thranduilion," announced Erestor as he approached. It was perhaps a poor choice of words, considering the morning's events, though he meant them innocently enough.

Legolas' eyes flew open and he gasped, then gagged on the mouthful he had just plopped upon his tongue as it attempted to go down his windpipe, staring in red-faced alarm as he put down the bowl and clamped his hand over his mouth, desperately trying to stifle the need to cough, breathe, and swallow at the same time. Frantically he gazed about for a napkin, a towel, his shirt Valar! Anything but the sheets! and gratefully snatched the handkerchief Mithrandir waved before his face. He spat, sputtered, heaved, and finally sucked down the rest of the tea right from the squat little pot, landing it back on the tray with a thump and a wistful sigh.

"Forgive me," he managed, unable to meet the Noldo's eyes. No matter how simple and ordinary the situation might be, he seemed incapable of presenting a cultivated and dignified manner in front of Elrond's former chief advisor. Legolas saw the wizard's hand return to pat his knee again and the movement directed his sight to his lap where the covers had shifted dangerously low, exposing all of his stomach and the uppermost hairs of his pubic thatch, against which his intractable cock was determinedly lifting. As nonchalantly as possible, which is the same as saying with panic stricken abashment, he hastily tucked the sheet back around his waist.

"Nay, not at all, I should not have startled you," replied his host with the self same nonchalance, having shared the moment of revelation with the silvan and averted his eyes immediately. Well, almost immediately. "Are you all right? Would you like more tea?"

"Oh, do not trouble yourself; water is fine," Legolas gathered his courage, glanced up, and found Erestor intently scrutinising the ceiling. He exhaled a calming breath and manufactured a rather anxious looking smile when his response encouraged the Noldo to return his gaze from the heights.

"It is no bother, truly; Tulus will have it ready in an instant." Erestor turned to reach for the bell pull by the mantle, both relieved and unnervingly disappointed to find the graceful appendage discretely disguised once more.

"I think he has had enough of the tea, Erestor, it is a strong stimulant and will keep him up…er…from rest if he has any more," Mithrandir commented and that brought the matter to a close ere the Noldo had time to yank the cord. None would disagree; further stimulation Legolas definitely did not require.

A somewhat suspenseful silence ensued as Erestor returned to the bedside, uncertain whether he should remain standing, sit on the mattress, or go out to the parlour and bring back another chair. Mithrandir solved the dilemma for him, impatiently shoving the tray farther onto the bed and pointing to the vacancy in front of the Wood Elf's crossed limbs.

"Sit," he ordered summarily in the voice he reserved for Important Business from Sulímo, King of the Valar and Lord of the Furthest West. "There is much to discuss. Legolas, finish your breakfast."

Erestor and Legolas shared matching frantic and terrified glances as the esteemed vintner gathered his loose green silk robe about him and gingerly lowered his bottom onto the soft feather bed. The added weight drew the covers down from the archer's lap just a centimetre or two and Legolas snatched it back in place. Erestor tried to compensate by pushing himself a little further back and was surprised when his hand encountered a slightly soggy section of sheets.

He discarded his initial speculation, for his sensitive sense of smell detected none of the acrid aromas associated with urine. He inhaled again attempting to obtain a better sample of the wet stain's components. Erestor could detect nothing other than a slightly sweet, musky overcast to the dampened fibres and realised this was in fact the archer's scent. That gave his libido a strong jolt and he was rather glad to be wearing the baggy pyjamas.

Neither his discomfort nor his surreptitious sniffing were well concealed and Legolas groaned, lifting a slender hand to cover his vision from the sight.

"I was in the bathing chamber and spilled water on myself, nothing more," he explained quietly.

"Of course."

"It is the truth!"

"I am not disputing you."

"Your tone implies otherwise."

Mithrandir's lips parted slightly and his squinting eyes ricocheted between the sniping antagonists.

"Well what was I supposed to think?"

"I am not an infant!"

"Indeed not." A swift flicker of a glance surveyed the Wood Elf from chest to groin, inciting a rise in colour in the opposite direction, before locking once more with the cerulean glare of smouldering indignation.

"Enough!" The wizard heaved himself up from his chair with an impressive swish of his flowing robes. "Desist from this trivial bickering! If it would settle the matter, I will get Tulus to make up the bed all fresh and dry ere we continue."

"Please do not do that!" Legolas' beseeching voice was fraught with humiliated desperation and he exhibited the most appealingly pathetic expression of mistreated puppydom his cornflower orbs knew how to concoct. In this case, the pathos was entirely genuine, for if Tulus found out it might as well be publicly announced in every community throughout Aman that Legolas had spilled on the sheets of Meril Thaifn.

It was not that she meant any harm or would invent untruths, she simply could not keep quiet about anything. And even the most mundane activity involving the silvan member of the Fellowship was immediately consumed by Valinor's quidnucs who masticated, macerated, and ultimately metamorphosed it into something unseemly and risqué or boldly obscene. 'This morning at Erestor's, Legolas brushed his teeth and swallowed some oral antiseptic,' rapidly transmuted into 'This morning at Meril Thaifn, Legolas brushed his teeth delicately over the throbbing head of Erestor's full and weeping shaft, eagerly swallowing the ensuing rush of his lover's warm, tangy seed down his long, elegant throat.'

Legolas shuddered reflexively, not necessarily from shame or dread, keenly aware of a rather persistent throbbing in his own anatomy, as this notion meandered through his mental pathways.

"As you wish, as you wish." Sympathetic vibrations modulated Mithrandir's words and lent them a compassionate overtone, though he had no idea what had prompted such urgent begging.

A short interval of soundless adjustment transpired in which the elves traded furtive peeks at one another. Then in unison they drew and released air, hoping to restore a modicum of normalcy to their interactions, and the Noldo picked up the bowl of yogurt and held it out with a tentative smile.

"Hannad," Legolas said and could not suppress a slight twitch when his fingers lightly brushed his saviour's whilst accepting the offering. It did not help matters to have the object of his long-cherished desire seated so close, wearing nothing but pyjama pants and an open top that presented tantalising glimpses of Erestor's warm, broad, muscular chest. Instantly the memory of being in full contact with the Noldo's solid torso just the previous day produced an unmistakable uplift in the thin covering spanning the space between his knees. Legolas took up the spoon and proceeded to stir the curd mixture nearly into soup.

Mithrandir observed silently, unable to contain an abbreviated eye-roll over such juvenile reactions from elves so many thousands of years old. Of course, he had not been privy to the events on the porch at dawn and thus the true cause of their awkwardness was unknown to him. The Istar wished he had his pipe so as to annoy the irritating immortals just a tad and perhaps distract their thoughts from Legolas' penis. In reality, however, he was glad to see the pair finally confronting their obvious and mutual interest.

But at this rate it will take longer than an Ent-moot to complete the courtship.

At this thought he stopped himself and drew his brows skyward in wonder, for it had already been quite a bit longer than that since he first became aware of Legolas' attraction for Elrond's seneschal. In all that time, Legolas had probably spoken to Erestor on six or seven occasions at best, and always in the most formal of settings. What deep-seated insecurity lay at the base of this hesitation, given the unfailing regard the Wood Elf had preserved for the Noldo, was troubling to say the least. Thranduil's youngest was not known for bashful reticence.

Of course, there had not really been much time for Legolas to pursue his interest in Middle-earth, for he had apparently never laid eyes on Erestor until the fateful Council of Elrond, and had left Imladris with the Fellowship almost immediately by the reckoning of elves. The erstwhile Seneschal had departed for Aman with Elrond's entourage not quite three years later and Legolas had missed his chance.

Mithrandir knew all too well the reason for Legolas' reluctance to reveal his desire in these current times.

Despite the nagging uneasiness this ruminating produced, Mithrandir had to admit it was rather endearing to see the pair of dauntless warriors so tongue-tied and self-conscious. He rose from his chair and paced the room, stroking his chin hair thoughtfully as he nodded his head.

Yes, this will work out nicely all around. He stopped beside the bed and smiled down on the misdirected lovers.

"Now then, these are troubling times and unfortunate events have occurred, but we must carry on. Legolas, I need your report."

"Aye," the archer sighed and set the bowl down, suddenly finding he had no desire to swallow another spoonful. He gathered up the tray and held it out to Erestor. "I thank you kindly for your gracious hospitality, Lord Erestor." There was no missing the aristocratic tone of dismissal in the polite words.

The Lord of Meril Thaifn frowned. He was not about to be brushed off so easily. He took the tray and plunked it right down on the floor beside the bed, then settled more fully onto the mattress, sending the silvan a pointed look.

"You are more than welcome, Thranduilion."

"My name," this through gritted teeth, "is Legolas."

"And mine is Erestor."

"If the introductions are concluded could we please get on with it?" huffed the Istar in exasperation.

"But, Mithrandir, he must leave!" Legolas pointed at his host.

"I am not going anywhere; this is my house after all." Erestor slapped the finger away from its hovering position near his cheek. "I want answers!"

"Ow! It is for your protection." Legolas shook his hand and frowned at the Noldo. "Tell him to go, Mithrandir," he ordered.

"Nay. We need Erestor."

"What?"

"Hah!"

"But Mithrandir…"

"Legolas!"

Both elves jumped at the volume and vehemence of the wizard's shout and another silence descended upon the group in its aftermath. Mithrandir sighed and rubbed his forehead, for he felt the stirrings of a malicious migraine trying to take root, and then attempted to compose his features into a more congenial expression.

"All right, then, let us start over, shall we?" he began.

"Fine. There was no need for you to yell at me," sniffed Legolas, arms folded in front of his body and an affronted expression upon his downcast face.

"Aye, Legolas has endured a terrible ordeal, Gandalf. Try to be a little more understanding," chimed in Erestor.

"Thank you," said Legolas, surprised, and lifted a grateful countenance to his benefactor.

"Certainly," replied the Noldo with a warm smile. "Do you feel equal to this? If you are too weary we can wait a few more hours."

"Nay, I am well, thanks to your timely intervention."

"Ah, think nothing of it; you would have done the same."

The dialogue came to a halt as their eyes met and each became simultaneously, completely, and hopelessly lost while exploring the unsounded depths of the other's soul.

The Maia groaned and slumped dejectedly back into his chair.

"My dear, dear friends, I am sorry to interrupt this charming and quaint repartee, yet I must. Legolas, remember the matter of the portal. We must discuss the events that brought the pair of you together." Careful! Go gently this time, he cautioned himself. Erestor is right, the Wood Elf is more fragile than usual.

"Nay, Mithrandir, never will I forget!" cried Legolas, and the pain and sorrow in his heart was clear from the woeful timbre of his barely audible voice. A hand reached toward him and he instinctively extended his to meet it, finding his fingers enclosed within the Noldo lord's. The next instant Erestor's other hand covered the archer's, softly stroking the deceptive delicacy of the slender-boned manus, and the silvan stared at the protective clasp, finding his throat suddenly tight with inexpressible emotion. He lifted his eyes to the dark inky orbs of this unlikely supporter and found comfort in the encouraging nod and sympathetic smile upon his host's features.

"Take your time; just begin and it will be over before you realise it," said Erestor quietly and squeezed lightly. His soul soared when he felt Legolas return the pressure.

"Very well," a deep lungful in and out and then he launched into the tale. "We were betrayed. Ringë must have another contact on the inside of IMF, someone much higher. Every move we made was known in advance; indeed, I am convinced our actions were choreographed to someone's specific design."

"Why do you say this?" demanded the Istar in alarm.

"Because there were other agents in the field, working the same case. Or rather, they were working a different case, the real one, and we were set up. I recognised one of them and after our capture she revealed her connection to Ringë."

"Wait, wait wait," interposed Erestor. "I have no idea what you two are discussing. Please, I need the background information if I am to be of any help at all."

"Yet that is the very knowledge that will imperil you," Legolas objected, clutching tight to the fingers guarding his and staring in imploring entreaty deeply into the Noldo's eyes. "I will not deliberately put you in jeopardy."

"I am moved by your concern, but it is as I said before: Ringë has already seen me with you. Indeed, I was in your secret lair when he arrived. It was I who cast the freezing solution upon him and sealed him in the jar."

"What?" demanded the wizard in alarm.

"True and those are exactly the reasons I would name for limiting further involvement. If you drop from the scene now and remain in hiding until it is over…"

"Hold, I need to hear that earlier part again, please," interrupted Mithrandir. "Erestor, you did not mention any of this in your account!"

"What have you told him?" Legolas' eyes grew huge in alarm.

"Nothing, or rather just that Ringë tried to murder you. And there has not been a chance to explain more, Mithrandir. Nor am I going to hide. I am the owner of an important and esteemed business venture, Legolas, and my investors expect me to maintain a certain public presence." Poor Erestor tried his best to keep up with both sides of the conversation.

"Ai Valar! This is not what I wanted to happen!"

"But is has happened, through no fault of yours, Legolas," assured Erestor earnestly not wishing the silvan to blame himself for whatever was to come. "Ringë will never believe anything other than my complete involvement."

"Erestor is right. If you wish to protect him then knowledge is the best weapon to use in his defence. Without it, he may be misled and betrayed by those in Ringë's circle."

"Now start over from the beginning this time," encouraged Erestor.

"All right, it cannot be helped now I suppose. Where should I start, Mithrandir? I do not know how far back to go."

"I can supply the necessary basis," the wizard said kindly, seeing how distraught was Legolas' heart to have placed someone he so deeply cared for in harm's way. "But I would have the story of the freezing of Cold Lake first, if you please. Erestor, that is your cue."

Erestor complied, leaving out the unsavoury details of Ringë's sexual assault on his new friend, and by the time it was done Mithrandir was chuckling mirthlessly.

"Well, well, that was quite resourceful of you Legolas; I am impressed. And it alleviates to some extent the burden of haste pressing upon us. It is unlikely Ringë will be free anytime soon if the seal was in fact air tight."

"No, we cannot trust to more than three days' grace," Legolas disagreed, "and it has been one full night and a third of the first day already."

"That sounds grave," added Erestor, "and all the more reason to get on with this tale, Mithrandir. Please explain about the troubles in which Legolas is mired."

"Very well. I must warn you one final time, however, that once you possess this knowledge there is no turning back. Your life will change irrevocably and no more will you simply be Erestor the Lord of Meril Thaifn," the Istar droned darkly.

"What do you mean? Are you saying I must give up my wineries and my home?" Erestor had not quite expected that.

"If it was required to see this job through, would you do it?" demanded Mithrandir quietly.

"That is not fair, Mithrandir, he does not know what the job is," protested Legolas.

"Neither did you," the wizard turned his kindly, creased smile upon his elven friend as these words defeated further dissent before it might arise.

Now Erestor considered this request carefully. As he saw it, whatever the particulars might be, his duty was to keep Legolas alive and extricate him from whatever mess he was mixed up in. If that meant leaving behind his beloved Meril Thaifn, well he doubted he would be at peace there should further harm befall the Wood Elf. The thought of Legolas bleeding to death alone in that hidden cavern flooded his mind and sent his heart into horrified palpitations; the Noldo knew his decision had been made even before he considered it.

"So be it," he announced stubbornly. "Whatever it is, I will take it on and see it through with you, Legolas."

TBC

Remmen vi Gonathras [Tangled in Entanglement]

Legolas wailed in combined pain, shame, desire, and irritable impatience as he shifted his feet in the clinging curtains, intending to free himself from their inexplicable entanglement round his ankles, and inadvertently rubbed one thigh against his sensitive balls. He rolled to his back and propped himself up on his elbows so he could glare with fitting censure at his hard and florid cock, which gave no indication of resuming more manageable proportions anytime soon without either manual assistance or immersion in ice water. A brush of wind puffed the sheer drapes all around his body and in frustration he twisted to get out of the suffocating panels of fabric, succeeding only in yanking one section of the white coverings down atop his head, supporting rod, brackets, little sliding rings and all.

"Nestegi Sarnas!" [Fuck a pile of rocks!] he seethed, shoving the voluminous mass from his face as a soft giggle met his ears.

"That does not sound much like an erotic invitation, but you know I am up for anything you wish to try," whispered Elrohir, slipping his arms around Legolas' body and drawing him onto his lap. He pressed his burgeoning erection firmly against the Wood Elf's supple fleshy arse, propped his chin on the silvan's shoulder, and sucked in an excited breath. Legolas' penis was poking up out of the swirl of white material, verily calling for his touch. And Elrohir answered, reaching down and wrapping his fingers, callused from centuries of wielding a broadsword, around this lesser, more enthralling blade. His heart leaped when Legolas yelped and bucked forward into the compressing clasp, and rewarded the Wood Elf's response with a tantalising sweep of his thumb over the slippery glans.

"Ai!" Legolas shuddered.

"Oh, see how that fits my hand so well? I can grip you tight at the root and still the hot little head sticks out, begging for attention. Shall I lick it, would that please you? Valar, Legolas, let me fill you," he whispered in the archer's ear and bit its pointed tip, grinding his groin against the muscular mounds propped upon his loins. His other hand was anything but dormant, being employed in pinching and pulling at the firm little peaks of ripe red flesh pertly arising on the silvan's chest.

"Aye, that is…oh! Nay! Elrohir, nay, I…"

"Hush now, I know what you need. Close your eyes; pretend I am Erestor, as we always do." Elrohir's whispered words were husky and brimming with lascivious anticipation. He squeezed the shaft and the left nipple while simultaneously sucking in noisy delight upon the inflamed tip of Legolas' right ear.

"Ah Elrohir! Please oh please oh please," Legolas moaned helplessly, mesmerised by the talented fist pumping him so expertly, incapable of thought beyond the surging waves of tingling lubricity creeping through ever nerve, setting his muscles to quivering expectancy and every centimetre of bare skin afire. He leaned back against the Orc Slayer's heaving torso and crammed one hand under his arse, desperately trying to undo Elrohir's pants as the twin's pelvis continued to rock, shoving ever harder, the pace growing faster.

"Thranduilion, if I fuck you will you suck me?"

A sordid feral growl was the only reply this request received and Elrohir chuckled smugly as he claimed his conquest's mouth in a dominating kiss that nearly depleted the Wood Elf's orifice of saliva. Assuming the role of his former tutor was the easiest method of reducing Legolas to antagonistic surrender. There was nothing he could not be coerced into trying if the twins played the part of their father's kinsman well enough.

Elrohir's lips moved to the archer's elegant neck, intending to mark it with a prominent love-bite, but when Legolas angled his head to offer better access the dark ugly finger prints of his most recent lover's work came into view. The younger twin paused, uneasy about how rough he ought to be this time, and resumed his extravagant stimulation of the ear instead. It was at this precise moment that Elladan began sharing the conversation he was having with their former mentor.

'Wait till Celebrian hears that Elrohir was pawing the poor elf's privates even as Legolas lay, barely conscious, unable to fend off such undesired molestation. I dare say it was not the first offence, was it?'

Elrohir froze as this phrase reached him through his brother's thoughts. He ceased his nibbling stimulation of Legolas' ear and removed his hand at once from the archer's throbbing column of virile masculinity. The jutting pink penis refused to lie down, protruding at nearly right angles to the silvan's taut abdomen. Elrohir swallowed and squinched his eyelids shut, determined to heed this charge, one his conscience had presented often over the years and he had chosen to ignore. He let a second pass to compose his soul, then opened eyes, ears, and heart. In sorrow he realised Erestor's indictment was not lacking in accuracy.

The younger twin flinched as he took in Legolas' excited state. Heart pounding and breath escaping in great gasps of panting need, Legolas squirmed restlessly, his fingers still scrabbling ineffectually to untie the stubborn laces sealing away Elrohir's lust. A translucent bead of moisture welled up from the slit in the stiff silvan shaft and cascaded over the lip of the head, sliding down the long slender cock with excruciating slowness, dragging Elrohir's eyes along with it. He gulped down a deep breath, fighting back the urge to let his tongue make the same journey.

Aye, lust. Have we only used him, pretending to offer comfort but really just taking our fill of him? He asked of Elladan.

'You should both be ashamed of yourselves!' This remark from Erestor made its way back before Elladan had the chance to reply to his brother's query, and was followed by the immediate realisation of the indignant lament. They were beyond ashamed, seeing how they had so freely played their friend's responsive body against him for their own delight.

At this sudden, unflattering, objective perception of his actions Elrohir sighed and wrapped both arms around Legolas' shoulders tightly, hugging him close and squeezing his eyes closed to keep back a squall of mortified tears.

"What is it?" demanded Legolas, his voice low and wavering. "Do you spurn me now, too?" and he struggled mightily to get loose from his friend's close embrace, a sob working free from his lungs even as his body could not elude the twin's hold. They must sense it upon me; the taint of the Istar's seed. Mayhap the scent clings to me like stink betrays a rotting mere. His efforts to flee increased.

"Nay, Legolas, you know that is not so," placated Elrohir, locking his arms together around his friend and holding on. "It is just that I have only now realised what I was doing."

"And suddenly that is disgusting to you? You are cruel to taunt me so! First Erestor and now you, too! Let me go! I have to get from here!"

"Ai Elbereth! Nay nay nay! Legolas be still and listen; neither of us are rejecting you. Valar! I want you so badly I may come in my pants if you do not cease your thrashing. And Erestor has just told Elladan he could not overcome his desire to touch you, and you know he is the penultimate example of absolute self-control."

"Then why? What is it that makes you stop, made him stop?" Legolas turned in Elrohir's arms and burrowed his face beneath the Noldo's chin. "I am willing to allow…"

"Aye, you are always willing. You always let us manipulate you to our satisfaction, but today it was not your wish to be aroused to this state in the first place. It has been made clear to me that often this is the case, yet we never listen when you tell us no. That is why Erestor stopped; only he feels even worse because of what you have endured, not saying what it was though I can guess easily enough, Legolas. And that is why I will not continue something I should never have initiated. Nor will I ever disregard your refusal again, this I swear, if only you will forgive me, Cuthenin. [True Bow] Please say that you will!"

"Of course I do," Legolas answered and then sighed. He stirred uncomfortably in the twin's arms and Elrohir let him go. "You just picked a most inopportune moment to have this enlightenment and its ensuing adjustment in character." He complained and struggled to his feet, accepting Elrohir's help to do so.

"True, and I am sorry for that also," apologised Elrohir, biting his lip as he watched Legolas stomp into the bathing chamber, cock bowing between his thighs as he went, and winced when the sound of splashing water and a groan of misery followed.

The archer returned, dripping wet from the waist down, robe demurely tucked around his naked body, and shot Elrohir an accusing glare as he hastened to the bed and climbed under the sheets. These he dragged completely over his head as he huddled into a dejected little mound in the middle of the mattress.

"Oh pen dithen," [little one] Elrohir sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting what he hoped was only a shoulder through the covers. "Will you sleep if I sing to you?" The younger of Elrond's sons did not await the reply, however, instead filling the room with the opening verses of his dear friend's favourite lullaby.

This fact he had discovered one night in Gondor when all three elves were at the palace and Arwen's second-born was fraught with colic. The poor babe had cried and cried, inconsolable, refusing her mother's breast and her father's bouncing and jiggling antics, screaming in her uncles' arms whether they paced the nursery or rocked her in the willow-wood rocker gifted to the royal couple by Rumil of Lorien. They all sang and made faces, changed the infant's swaddling, cooed and cajoled and clucked to no avail. Nothing worked and finally the exhausted family members had escaped to their quarters, unable to endure more, leaving the nanny to ensure the child came to no harm.

When the screeching had abruptly ceased amid the dulcet strains of the archer's tenor, it was this lullaby that Legolas had chosen to sing. Elrohir had got to the babe's room first and the image of Legolas, moonlight shining through his sheer night-shirt, protectively cradling the infant against his heart, the crown of her tiny head tucked under his cheek as he gently swayed in time with the melody, had been heart-wrenchingly sweet and disturbingly erotic at the same time.

As he sang, Elrohir reflected that he would need either a lengthy, invigorating bath with his brother or a swift dip in the garden's brook before he would be able to think of anything other than burying his long shaft deep into the heat of Legolas' arse and spilling his ecstasy therein.

"Elladan summons me, hên rhovan," [wild child] said Elrohir, the song finished, and leaned over to kiss the part of the unyielding bump where he thought Legolas' head might be. He made his excuses, knowing the archer was not asleep but was at least a little calmer and more at ease. "We will visit again before you leave and speak of how to take advantage of this extraordinary coincidence. Vairë tires of your mooning and pining. Why you want the grouchy old prude only Iluvatar knows, but Erestor is not as indifferent to your charms as you imagined. You must make your feelings known at last."

A forlorn and panicked little noise issued from the bulge and it twitched briefly.

"Do not fret; we will help you claim your prize," promised Elrohir as he quietly exited and shut the door.

TBC