Title: A Game of Cat and Mouse
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FPS
Characters: Thranduil, Erestor, Lindir, Glorfindel
Rating: PG-13 to start, NC-17 eventually.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine.
Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn, Library of
Moria. All others please ask.
WARNING: Blatant excuse to write romance and smut,
PWP, explicit descriptions of homoerotic acts.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are
the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am
sure he would be horrified if he read this.
Author's Notes: For the Library of Moria's
"International Day of Slash", a better holiday could
not exist.
Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com
Summary: Thranduil visits Imladris.



Thranduil's eyes scanned the wood; his ears listened
intently to the strange sounds around him. Each
forest had its own life force, its own rhythm and
music that was innate. The forest of the Hidden
Valley, with its tall, slender, white-barked trees of
birch, and tall grasses that looked like an amber wave
as the wind set the blades to swaying, sounded,
smelled, and felt entirely different from his home.

Greenwood was immense, thick with massive stands of
cedar and spruce that formed a thick canopy overhead
and allowed few of Anor's rays to reach the ground.
Below, the forest floor was sparsely populated with
ferns and vines, and fox, wolves, small predatory
cats, and deer, along with a myriad of small rodents
and reptiles populated his home. Large birds of prey
made their nests in the treetops, soaring high above
the Anduin valley searching for fresh fish, and
occasionally a traveler might spy a flying squirrel
soaring from branch to branch overhead. His home
forest was dark, dense and mysterious, and on mornings
like this one a thick mist hung heavy on the ground,
and one could smell pungent pine mixed with cool,
fresh snow from the mountains.

By contrast, the woods of Imladris were open and
brightly lit, Anor's golden rays filtered through the
amber-leaved boughs, causing the light to dance upon
the forest floor. He could still smell the snow, as
they were close to the mountains, but he also detected
the clean scent of heather and lilac, and the warm,
slightly sweet aroma of waning summer grasses. He
could hear the roar of the falls at the west end of
the valley, and the ever present, musical flow of the
Bruinen filled his ears as the water rolled over rocks
in the streambed, as it had for ages untold.

It was a cool, autumn morning and Anor shown brightly
overhead. The soft rustle of the slowly dying leaves
and the clean scent of the river caused him to close
his eyes for a moment, breathing deep the fresh, clear
air. There were no evil beasts, no orcs, no spiders
here, yet he remained on guard. He remembered well
the trip east after the fall of Beleriand: the rolling
green grasslands, the Misty Mountains, taller than any
mountains he had ever crossed, though he remembered
well seeing the massive peaks of the Iron Mountains
from his home in Doriath.

The trip down from the High Pass had been arduous the
previous day, increasingly so in the slowly waning
daylight. He had camped at the foot of the mountains
and then began the final leg of the journey just hours
before daybreak. The trails leading westward, toward
the House of Elrond, were, in the beginning, nearly as
treacherous as the path over the mountains, bounded on
one side by sheer cliffs and on the other by a drop to
the river below, but at least the worry of ambush was
not present here and his stallion was sure-footed.
Now that he had emerged from the canyon onto a
forested plain, the trail was less hazardous.
Nonetheless, Thranduil remained alert - years of hard
lessons learned could not be easily forgotten.

As he stroked his stallion's neck, he caught a unique
scent upon the air: it was sweet and spicy. He
whispered to his stallion to halt, and then he waited
for his watcher to reveal himself. His right hand
rested on the hilt of his sword and his keen gaze
scanned the tree line. This was a bad place for
conflict - there were too many places where one could
be hidden, and too many places for traps to be laid.
He reminded himself that he had been invited and that
he was among allies, though the relationship between
his father's realm and Lord Elrond's was tenuous at
best. It was unlikely that he was riding into a trap.

Brief moments felt like long hours as he waited for
his watcher to reveal himself. Finally, a golden
stallion stepped out from behind a thicket. The
stallion's rider was nearly a perfect match to his
mount and the surrounding wood; with bright blue eyes,
regal features, and wisps of golden hair that peeked
out from his hooded cloak, he was dressed in muted,
natural colors of pale tan and ivory, nearly blending
into the wood around him. The rider held up his hand
in greeting.

"Mae govannen," the elf said, his deep voice traveling
the distance between them. "You must be Thranduil
Oropherion. I am Glorfindel O' Imladris. Welcome to
the Hidden Valley, my liege."

Thranduil watched as the elf bowed his head and
covered his heart with a gloved hand. To his
surprise, his heart was beating more rapidly than
normal, partly from anticipation of conflict, and
partly from hearing the elf's name - Glorfindel. He
knew exactly who this elf was; he was a legend.

Thranduil bowed his head in return and answered, "Mae
govannen. It is a pleasure to meet you, Glorfindel."
He approached his watcher, and as he grew closer,
Thranduil could not help but notice how striking this
elf was.

"You travel alone, my lord?" the Elda queried.

"Aye, my companions turned back at the High Pass. My
father can spare precious few warriors these days, and
the west side of the mountains is not as dangerous as
the eastern slopes. I insisted that I make the rest
of the journey alone."

"You are brave to travel alone."

"I am a seasoned warrior, Glorfindel."

"That is unfortunate..."

Thranduil bristled at the remark. "Not all of us have
the luxury of living in a safe haven. I have been
wielding a sword since I had the strength to lift it."

"Understood. My apologies if I have caused offense."

"No apologies necessary."

"Come, I shall escort you the rest of the way."

All elves are uniquely beautiful, and each has their
own distinct taste as to what they find attractive.
Some elves prefer female company, some male, and some,
like Thranduil, are ambivalent as to the sex of the
one they find attractive. He felt young, compared to
Glorfindel, yet he had lived longer so far than the
Elda had since his return to Middle-earth. He was
also older than Elrond, though he was still a prince;
but he knew well that years spent on earth had little
to do with wisdom, and he respected both Glorfindel's
and Elrond's experience.

As the golden horse turned, Thranduil's eyes scanned
the elf's back. He wore a tan cloak, which obscured
the finer details of his shape, but Thranduil could
see that he had a swordsman's build, with broad
shoulders; the tanned leather breeches he wore
accentuated the length of his legs and their strength;
and from his vantage point as they approached, he
could see the warrior cut a fine form. Thranduil
guessed that the Noldo was taller and broader than he
was himself. It took some effort to conceal his
appreciation as his horse stepped alongside
Glorfindel's, but he managed. He was eager to further
admire his guide without the cloak that hid some of
Glorfindel's physical attributes.

Glorfindel cast a quick, sidelong glance at the
prince. He was more attractive than he had
anticipated, though he knew well the potency of
Oropher's beauty. Thranduil was softer than his
father, and he imagined that was the queen's
influence. Glorfindel spied a wisp of flaxen hair as
it escaped the confines of one of the prince's braids,
and watched as a gloved hand tucked it back inside the
hood of his cloak. He had always been fascinated by
eyes, and the prince's eyes were stunning: they were
the color of the summer sky, bright, sparkling blue,
with thick honey-colored lashes framing them.
Thranduil's skin was a soft shade of alabaster that
shone brightly against his dark-colored garments. He
was a lovely specimen, indeed, but then Glorfindel had
always been partial to the Sindar.

"I trust your travels were uneventful?" he asked,
keeping his gaze fixed on the trail ahead.

"For the greater part," Thranduil answered, "though a
storm was brewing as I descended the mountains."

"You will find the climate here in the Hidden Valley
to be most temperate, my lord. Firith is one of the
most beautiful times of the year in this land."

"Then I am fortunate to come at such a glorious time,"
Thranduil answered smoothly. "Is Rhîîw mild as well?"

"Certainly. Snow does fall here, but the temperature
is not harsh, and your quarters will be well equipped
to keep you comfortable, regardless of the weather."

Thranduil nodded. "Unlike most Wood-elves, my people
are accustomed to sleeping indoors. My family once
lived in Menegroth."

"It must have been a remarkable place," Glorfindel
returned. "I never had the opportunity to see
Thingol's land."

"Of course not," Thranduil answered quietly. "Forgive
me, I am speaking as though you know nothing of me or
my people, when in fact, you may know more than I do."

"How so, my liege?"

"You have seen much more of this world than I. When
we lived in Doriath, I was still young and we were not
permitted to travel beyond its borders. Since we
arrived in Greenwood, we have not explored the
surrounding grasslands."

"You have seen Lothlóórien, yes?"

"Aye, but not since our arrival in the Great Wood."

"Keeping one's home safe is difficult work, and the
Elves of Greenwood have a more daunting task than
many."

"I am glad to hear that you are sensitive to our
plight. My father was hoping that Lord Elrond might
be amiable to speaking with me about it."

"I am sure he will be, your majesty. Lord Elrond is
always concerned with the safety and well-being of all
Elvish nations."

They rode some distance in silence, then emerged from
the forest to find lush green gardens with manicured
hedges, tall fruit trees, and flowering shrubs of many
kinds. The rich fragrance was almost overwhelming to
Thranduil, who was accustomed to more woodsy scents.
The pathway was bordered by fruit trees, and as they
walked along, he reached up and plucked a ripe, red
berry. He raised one eyebrow and inspected it.

"Cherries, your majesty," Glorfindel said, turning his
head to conceal his bemused expression. "They are
quite sweet." Out of the corner of his eye, he
watched the Sinda's smooth, pink lips curl around the
berry, then pluck it from the stem. A smile curved
Thranduil's lips as he chewed the fruit. "Mind the
pit," Glorfindel added, then grinned as the Sinda
turned his head and politely spit the small seed into
the bushes that lined the path.

"That was quite good," Thranduil remarked, quickly
licking the corners of his mouth.

"Our chef makes several tasty delicacies with the
fruit: pies, tarts, breads, even tea."

"I look forward to sampling them all," Thranduil
answered with a smile, and then he reached over his
head and plucked another berry.

Soon, they came to a fork in the path, and followed it
around the southern wall of the Last Homely House
where they arrived at a courtyard. Several smaller
paths split off from the courtyard, and in the
distance, Thranduil could see stables and a rough-hewn
stone building with a smoking chimney. The sound of
metal clanging against metal rang in the distance and
Thranduil surmised that the smaller stone building
must be a forge; among Imladris' inhabitants were the
Míírdain, the world-renowned metal smiths of Eregion.

Several young ellon and elleth came forward offering
to see the horses stabled and cared for. Thranduil
removed his pack, which was taken immediately by a
handsome young valet, and then he followed Glorfindel
toward the Last Homely House.

They climbed a short flight of stairs and arrived on a
wide, sweeping porch that had a view of the westward
edge of the valley. The Bruinen was quite loud here,
as it ran some thousand feet below. Thranduil could
see a stone bridge, which led over the river to a
grassy meadow on the southern bank; from there, it
looked as if the path ambled uphill and then
disappeared.

As they gained entrance to the Last Homely House,
Thranduil was immediately struck by the size of it.
To the left was a massive hall with the largest
fireplace he had ever seen. The polished floor was
surrounded by tall, stuffed chairs and long
upholstered benches, and at the far end was the dais,
which now sat empty. The room appeared to be an
entertainment hall of some kind, as it was less formal
than a throne room. To the right was a large feasting
hall, complete with a long table and several buffets
upon which food would be laid.

They began to ascend a long stairway, which branched
off into two directions about thirty steps up. They
took the staircase to the right, and after a moderate
climb, reached the guest wing. Glorfindel opened an
ornately carved set of double doors, and invited
Thranduil to step inside the room.

Thranduil was amazed at what greeted his eyes. Thick,
richly dyed and embroidered carpets covered the floor,
and on the far side of the room were another set of
doors, these with glass panels, that led to a private
balcony overlooking the river and cliffs beyond it. A
large, ornately dressed, canopied bed stood on one
side, and there was an elaborately carved armoire, a
dressing table with a mirror, a privacy screen, and
another full-length mirror. Two overstuffed chairs,
with a small table next to each, sat in front of a
carved stone fireplace, and through a single door was
a private bathing chamber.

"I trust this will be sufficient?" Glorfindel queried.

Thranduil turned, the lately concealed look of
surprise soon transformed into a fresh gaze of
unabashed admiration as he took in the Elda's total
visage. Glorfindel had removed his cloak, and
revealed one the finest bodies Thranduil had ever
seen. The tailored tunic and breeches hinted at a
muscular form, and the Noldo's hair fell around his
face like a golden waterfall. He noted the smile of
appreciation on Glorfindel's face as he removed his
own cloak, and then he nodded and bowed his head.

"I shall leave you to bathe and dress for dinner, my
liege," Glorfindel said smoothly. "I look forward to
your company this eve."

"Will Lord Elrond be in attendance?" Thranduil
queried.

"Nay, my prince. But he shall return to Imladris
within the week. He is returning from Lindon and a
visit with his majesty, Gil-galad. His return was
unexpectedly delayed by heavy storms that caused
flooding in the plains to the west."

"So it will be just you and I then?" Thranduil asked,
fighting off the sly grin that threatened to curve his
lips.

"And one or two others, my lord. Unless you prefer to
dine alone this eve?"

"No, no," Thranduil replied. "I look forward to
meeting your kinsmen."

"Until later, your majesty." Glorfindel bowed his
head and departed.

As the doors closed behind the Elda, Thranduil removed
his gloves and placed his travel-worn cloak in a
basket by the door for collection by the chambermaid
later. His empty pack was already sitting at the foot
of his bed, and he found his clothing hanging in the
open armoire. He removed his quiver and the belt that
held his sword, placing them both by the bed, then he
slipped off his boots and socks and wiggled his toes
on the thick rug. A smile curved his lips as he
sighed. It had been a long, long time since he had
the pleasure of so opulent a bedchamber.

Walking around the room, his fingertips brushed
delicate buds of roses and deep purple flowers that
were tube shaped and gave off a most extraordinary
scent. The bed coverings were silk and dyed in pale
hues of blue and silver, the frame of the bed itself
was elegantly carved of smooth beech. A sheer ivory
canopy was tied back at the corners, and an ornate and
detailed tapestry hung upon the wall over his bed. He
closed his eyes and swallowed, then looked at the
tapestry again. It was a remarkable representation of
Lúúthien, just as he remembered seeing her dancing
through the woods when he was an elfling.

"Greetings, my lady," he whispered, as his fingertips
caressed her representation. "I have so missed the
sound of your voice." He sighed then turned toward
the doors that led to the veranda, and then stepped
outside. The view was remarkable; he could see the
gardens and the Bruinen below, and to the west, he
could see the falls and a staircase that was built
into the hillside to the southwest, which led to the
High Moors beyond.

After lingering upon the balcony for some time, he
stepped inside his private bathing chamber, filled the
tub with warm water, and disrobed. He bathed
languidly, enjoying the fact that he did not have to
be vigilant and could actually enjoy soaking in the
warm water with his eyes closed. He uncorked several
glass phials, smelling each one, then choosing the one
that smelled like cedar. He poured the amber liquid
into the warm water and smiled, then let his thoughts
drift to his dinner companion for the evening.

To be continued...

Part 2:

Summary: Thranduil meets Elrond's senior staff and
finds himself at the center of an interesting game.

Thranduil heard a knock upon his bedchamber door and
answered it. He was unable to suppress the slight
gasp that escaped his lips as he stepped backward, his
hand unwittingly moving to his left hip, where his
sword normally rested. In the doorway stood a
raven-haired elf, with stormy grey eyes and pale skin.
For the briefest of moments, he thought one of the
Sons of Fëëanor had returned to finish what they
started so long ago in Doriath.

The elf, clad in black, his hands clasped in front of
him, furrowed his brow and softly said, "My liege, is
everything all right?"

"I . . . I am sorry, I thought for a moment you were
someone else," Thranduil answered.

Erestor bowed his head in response. "Of course, I
often encounter this reaction upon meeting those from
Thingol's realm. My name is Erestor, I am Chief
Councilor to Lord Elrond, and a senior member of his
staff."

"Mae govannen, Erestor. Forgive me for my display."

Erestor smiled. "Nothing to forgive, my lord. I have
often been told that I resemble Fëëanor; but I assure
you, I am no relation, nor have I ever been involved
in that conflict. I was born here in Middle-earth, in
Lindon."

"You need not explain yourself, Erestor."

"I am happy to do anything that puts you at ease, my
liege. I want you to feel comfortable during your
stay here."

"I am sure I will. You have my appreciation for your
courtesy, Erestor."

Once Thranduil recovered from the initial shock of the
Noldo's appearance, he noted that Erestor was quite
attractive. The councilor's raven hair and pale eyes
gave him a dramatic appearance, which offset the
understated garments he wore.

Erestor smiled and held out his hand, directing
Thranduil into the corridor. "I have come to escort
you to dinner. Tonight, Glorfindel, myself, and
Lindir will be dining with you, as the most senior
members of Lord Elrond's household."

Thranduil stepped into the hallway and followed
Erestor toward a wing of the house he had yet to see.

"We have a special celebration prepared for you this
eve, my lord. Rather than dine in the feasting hall,
we thought you might appreciate something more
intimate and informal."

"Where will we be dining?"

Erestor smiled. "The veranda overlooking the eastern
gardens. It is a clear and temperate night, and the
stars are quite beautiful this eve."

Thranduil smiled. "Sounds lovely."

He followed the Noldo down a few flights of stairs
then through a large, open room, and then outside to a
stone porch. The scent of jasmine filled his nostrils
and he smiled again. "It is quite beautiful this
evening."

Erestor nodded, then motioned to him toward a small,
but elegantly dressed table. Glorfindel and a
slender, fair-haired young Noldo stood beside the
table with their hands clasped behind their back.
Lanterns burned around them and white flowers floated
upon water inside a crystal bowl.

Glorfindel bowed as Thranduil arrived. "You look most
handsome this evening, if I might be so bold, your
majesty."

Thranduil smiled. "As do you, Glorfindel."

"This is Lindir, Chief Minstrel to Lord Elrond; he
also manages the substantial library with Erestor."

Lindir bowed. "It is an honor, my lord."

Thranduil bowed his head. "Mae govannen, Lindir."

Erestor motioned toward the table. "Please, my liege,
sit."

Thranduil sat at the table and was joined by his
dinner companions. The first course arrived as
Glorfindel poured the wine, and Lindir started the
conversation by asking Thranduil all about his
homeland. They lingered over dinner, making polite
conversation and enjoying a hearty Imladris vintage.
Thranduil found the affair somewhat curious, as each
elf seemed to be sizing him up, not in an adversarial
way, but in a far more solicitous fashion. It was
both curious and brazen, as if they thought they had
earned the right to compete for his favor. However,
if there was one thing Thranduil found appealing, it
was brazenness, so, he allowed the game to continue.
As he observed each one, he also sized them up, not in
order to decide which he would have between them, but
to decide whom he would have first.

Glorfindel was the most self-assured and openly
flirtatious of the three; his demeanor exuded
confidence, and this amused Thranduil. The Elda
seemed to be quite sure he would be the victor in this
little game. Erestor, on the other hand, was far more
subtle, yet still predatory in his own way; Thranduil
swore he could almost see gears turning in the Noldo's
mind as the councilor smiled and gazed at him. Then
there was Lindir, the chief minstrel. Thranduil was
not quite sure what Lindir's approach to this game
was. The Noldo seemed to be content to sit across the
table and allow the other two to compete more
fervently for his affection; yet Thranduil could not
ignore him - those large, pale eyes, aristocratic
features, and his slender form seemed to silently
command his attention.

The game progressed late into the evening, with
flirtatious glances being cast between the prince and
each of his hosts, then, as the stars waned and Anor
first began to stir, Thranduil rose from the table,
thanked his hosts, and departed, leaving them stunned
in his wake.

Glorfindel sat back heavily in his chair. "That went
well," he said sarcastically.

"It is but his first night here," Erestor argued. "We
have months yet to see who is most worthy of the
prince's affection."

"I could not tell whom he preferred," Lindir said, his
fair brow furrowed.

Glorfindel lifted his glass. "Perhaps he thinks the
three of us buffoons."

"Or worse yet, beneath him," Erestor grumbled. "You
should have seen the look on his face when I met him
at his door, it was a mix of shock and revulsion. I
had hoped he would find my unusual appearance to be
enticing."

Glorfindel snorted.

Erestor opened his mouth to protest when Lindir
interrupted him. "Well, I am most like his own
kindred in appearance, and he showed me no
extraordinary amount of appreciation, so apparently,
we have yet to discern his taste."

"Perhaps he prefers more gentle company," Erestor
answered.

"More gentle than Lindir?" Glorfindel rejoined, as
Lindir grumbled in protest. "Doubtful. Nor do I
think his majesty prefers females. No, I am quite
sure he finds male company appealing, if the way he
was watching me earlier is any indication."
Glorfindel swirled his wine in his goblet. "I am
afraid that this contest is going to require diligence
and patience."

Lindir rubbed his temples. "I was so hoping to have
this wager settled before Lord Elrond's return. If he
finds out what we are up to..."

Erestor crossed his legs. "He will not find out,
because none of us is going to tell him. We will just
have to be a bit more . . . subtle upon his return."

Glorfindel set his glass upon the table. "I, for one,
have little patience or inclination for subtlety." He
rose from the table. "If you will excuse me..."

Erestor rose. "And where do you think you are going?"

Glorfindel turned and winked at the glowers he was
receiving from both Lindir and Erestor. "To see that
our majesty has everything he needs." Then he
disappeared inside the house.

Erestor grumbled his discontent as Lindir crossed his
arms over his chest and huffed.

* * * *

Thranduil sat at his dressing table, running a brush
through his loose hair as he gazed absently at the
mirror. It appeared that he was the subject of
interest to three high-ranking and most handsome elves
in Imladris. There was Glorfindel the legendary
warrior, tall and powerfully built, and oozing
sensuality; Erestor the Chief Councilor, mysterious,
exotic, with a most engaging wit; and Lindir, gentle,
beautiful, soft, made to be commanded. It was all
that he could hope for and more, in terms of options.

However, while he had no problem with friendly, casual
relations, he found it most curious that all three of
his dinner companions were vying for his attention.
Though he had long ago realized the effect his
appearance had on some, he found it difficult to
believe that it had that effect on all three of them.

A knock upon his chamber door caused him to chuckle
and shake his head - the game was yet afoot. Setting
the hairbrush down, he affected an expression of
innocence and made to open the door.

Glorfindel was the first to play his hand, and
Thranduil had to admit, it did not disappoint him.
The prince leaned casually upon the doorframe, and
schooled his expression into one of coyness.
"Glorfindel, what could be the occasion of such a late
and unexpected visit?"

Glorfindel swallowed hard when Thranduil opened the
door. He had not expected the prince to be so . . .
irresistible when dressed for bed. The Sinda wore a
plain linen sleeping robe, open at the neck. His
hair, lovely enough when braided, was most enticing
when hanging loose around his elegant face. He
cleared his throat and answered, "I wanted to be sure
you had all you require this evening."

"I have a warm, soft, comfortable bed. What more
could I need?" Thranduil blinked slowly, turning his
charm up a notch.

"Perhaps . . . perhaps you require..." Glorfindel
clenched his jaw. He could not decide if the prince
was waiting for an offer or just toying with him.
"Something further..."

"Like?"

Glorfindel gathered his wits. "I would not deem to
know your mind, my liege. You have but to ask for
anything you need, or want."

Thranduil smiled and leaned forward slightly. "You
are a most gracious host, Glorfindel." He lifted his
chin, knowing full well that the Elda's gaze was fixed
on his throat and the small bit of his chest that
could be seen through the open neckline of his robe.
"At this time," he leaned forward a bit more, "I find
I have all that I need."

Glorfindel heard the door of opportunity slam shut in
his mind, and he inwardly chastised himself for being
so forward. "Very well, your majesty. Please know
that I am but one floor below you, should you require
anything."

"Of course; it will be of comfort knowing you are
beneath me." Thranduil smiled beguilingly. "Again,
my thanks, Glorfindel." He slowly closed the door,
casting his most enticing glance over his shoulder as
he did so.

Glorfindel grasped the doorframe as the door closed,
and mockingly pounded his forehead against it.
"Blast," he grumbled, and then he looked down at his
lap. "Now I must take care of this alone." He tugged
at his breeches, then made for his chambers.

* * * *

Thranduil walked through the gardens after the
mid-afternoon meal, stopping occasionally to smell the
flowering bushes and admire the birds that twittered
and splashed in the marble fountain that was the
centerpiece of this particular section of the garden.
He heard soft humming coming from the veranda above
him and he looked up. It was Lindir, who appeared to
be shadowing him, though at the moment, the elf's back
was turned. He grinned broadly and climbed the
stairs, pretending he had not seen the Noldo.
However, when he reached the top of the stair, he was
transfixed by Lindir's voice.

What had been most pleasant when quietly humming, was
breathtaking as the minstrel began to sing. Thranduil
felt his heart constrict, though he smiled; it was the
Lay of Lúúthien that the Noldo sang. He perched next
to the balustrade, in a half-sitting/half-standing
position and listened as the minstrel softly sang the
song that brought both profound sadness and fathomless
joy to his heart. As the song concluded, Lindir
turned, as if he decided to walk in another direction,
and their eyes met.

"My lord," Lindir said quietly, with a tone akin to
reverence. "Forgive me, I was unaware..."

Thranduil held up his hand. "You need not ask for
forgiveness, unless my joy appears to be offence."

Lindir smiled. "I am most glad you enjoyed it, your
majesty. It is one of my favorite songs to sing."

"You sing it beautifully, Lindir. So beautifully,
that I could listen to you sing all the day long."

Lindir blushed and canted his head sideways. "Perhaps
your majesty would like to join me for a walk through
the forest?"

Thranduil smiled. 'Oh, this one is quite good,' he
thought. "Certainly, if I am not intruding."

"No, no, my lord. I would most enjoy the company."

Thranduil stood and motioned toward the wood. "Lead
on, gentle Lindir."

Lindir smiled, clasping his hands behind his back as
they descended the stair.

Erestor furrowed his brow as he gazed through the
window. "Damn," he grumbled, and placed the tome
containing the story of Olwëë back on the shelf. "So
Lindir will play the fawning doe to the prince's buck?
I wonder if our prince would not prefer a wolf to a
doe?" A mischievous grin curved Erestor's lips and he
returned to his work.

Glorfindel squinted against the afternoon sun as he
watched Lindir and Thranduil walk toward the wood. He
grumbled in discontent. Were it not for his duties,
it would be he that led the prince toward the shaded
forest. 'Ah well,' he thought, 'I will make up for
this later.' Shaking his head, he continued toward
the barracks.

* * * *

Lindir edged closer to Thranduil as they walked
through the woods, chatting amiably about life in
Imladris. Thranduil nearly had to bite through the
inside of his lip to keep from grinning. This lovely,
lithe, young Noldo was an apt flirt, but his efforts
were little more than obvious. Lindir stopped and
leaned against the bole of a tall tree, then smiled.
"Tell me, your majesty, is there anyone among your
people whom you hold dear?"

"I hold them all dear, Lindir. They are my charges,
my responsibility," Thranduil answered with a slight
smile.

"Of course, my lord. What I meant to say was..."

Thranduil placed his hands on the tree, on each side
of Lindir's head. He watched as the Noldo's eyelids
lowered a small bit and his chin rose so that their
lips aligned. "Do I have a lover..."

"Yes, my lord, if you forgive me for being so bold as
to ask," Lindir answered softly.

"I have many lovers, Lindir. My attentions are often
sought after."

"I can imagine that they are, for you are most
beautiful."

"Ah, but beauty is deeper than the flesh, my friend.
True beauty lies deep within and takes many years to
uncover."

Lindir closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Of
course, you are correct, my lord. Forgive me for
being so..."

"Competitive?" Thranduil finished. It pained him a
little to see the frown on Lindir's face and the way
the Noldo bit his lower lip.

"I have never done such a thing as this; I would not
have if I had not seen how much they wanted you. I
was afraid if I did nothing, I would never get the
chance to..."

"Enjoy me?"

"No! No... to get to know you, my lord. Truly, I am
not so callous as to..."

Thranduil smiled and nodded. Now he was getting
somewhere; now he was getting a glimpse of the Noldo's
heart. He placed two fingers on Lindir's lips,
silencing him. "Either you are a consummate actor, or
the most gentle-hearted elf I have ever met,"
Thranduil said quietly. He watched as Lindir's eyes
widened and began to glisten slightly with tears that
threatened to well. "Time will tell, my songbird," he
murmured. "If you are true of heart, I will see it;
if not, then I am afraid you played your hand too
soon." Lindir shook his head vehemently. "For now,
let us leave it at this..." He removed his fingers
and covered Lindir's lips with his own.

The way the lithe young Noldo arched into him, the way
he grasped his shoulders, was almost too enticing to
resist; yet Thranduil would not be used as a pawn, and
he had still to decide the true nature of Lindir's
interest.

It was one thing to be blatant with desire, that was
something he could abide, but to play to the sympathy
of one's heart and be false about it; that was
something he would never tolerate. This young
minstrel had to prove his words were true, and if they
were, who knew where the path might take them? He
allowed himself the indulgence of one, brief but
thorough sweep of the inside of the Noldo's mouth with
his tongue, and then he pulled away.

With his eyes closed he murmured, "Oh, I do hope you
are true, songbird." Then he departed before Lindir
could say another word.

To be continued...

Part 3:

Summary: The game is in full swing, and Thranduil
makes an interesting discovery.

"So tell me," Thranduil said as he allowed Lindir to
reposition his fingers on the harp strings, "what
exactly is the nature of this little competition
between you, Erestor, and Glorfindel?"

Lindir sighed. "Well, it all began when Glorfindel
returned and told us how beautiful you were. You see,
Glorfindel and Erestor have long been rivals with one
another, each constantly tries to outwit, outmatch,
and outperform the other, and not just in matters of
desire, but also in all things. There are areas in
which Glorfindel has the obvious upper hand, such as
war craft, and areas in which Erestor has the upper
hand - he is far more crafty than Glorfindel - not
that Glorfindel is dull, of course!" Thranduil
chuckled and nodded in understanding, and Lindir
continued, "Upon your arrival, Glorfindel announced
that he would..." Lindir bit his lip.

"Would what?" Thranduil asked as he plucked a string.

"I do not know if I should say. If he finds out I
have told you, he will be most displeased."

"I will protect you, my songbird. Now, do tell," he
continued as he plucked another string.

"He announced to us that he would bed you within a
fortnight." Lindir cringed.

Thranduil laughed heartily and placed his hands on his
knees. "Oh ho! He is a bold one!"

"I am sure he meant no disrespect, my lord. He just
felt that the two of you had much in common and seemed
to have a mutual appreciation of one another."

Thranduil looked at Lindir with a gentle smile. "Do
not concern yourself with Glorfindel's motives,
Lindir. I am quite sure he can handle himself. Now,
continue."

Lindir nodded. "When he announced to Erestor and I
that he would . . . well, I guess I have told you that
already . . . Erestor immediately challenged him. I
was left no choice; if I did not also join in the
challenge, I would never have the opportunity to know
you, for they would have kept all of your attention."

"Do not worry, gentle Lindir," Thranduil said quietly.
"I know your mind and your motives."

Lindir smiled and continued. "So the three of us put
forth a wager to see which one could bed you."

"What are the terms of the bargain?"

"The losers must do the bidding of the winner until
the end of Rhîîw."

"Whatever he asks?"

"Whatever he asks."

Thranduil chuckled. "This sounds like something
Mablung would have come up with. What is the nature
of this rivalry between Erestor and Glorfindel?"

Lindir looked around the music hall to ensure they
were alone. Then he leaned in close and whispered,
"If you ask me, I think they are each in love with the
other and both too stubborn to admit it for fear of
rejection."

Thranduil nodded. "You are wise as well as fair, my
songbird." He smiled as Lindir blushed. "Let us put
them together, shall we?"

Lindir smiled broadly and nodded. "Aye! It is
something that both Lord Elrond and I have longed to
do. But how to do it?"

"I think I may know a way..." He motioned to Lindir
to lean in close, and then he whispered in the
minstrel's ear.

* * * *

Thranduil stepped inside the library, holding
Erestor's note in his hand. "Erestor?" he called.

Erestor emerged from his office, a deferential smile
curving his lips. "Ah, my note."

"Yes, it is one in the same. Perhaps I could inquire
as to why you left this note for me?"

"I have something I wish to show you," Erestor
answered, holding out his hand in a sweeping gesture
and motioning toward the back of the library.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and followed Erestor's
direction, walking past the long shelves of books to a
smaller back room. There was a small table, which
held several dusty scrolls, a lantern hanging
overhead, and two chairs. Erestor invited him to sit
down, and he did, then the councilor unrolled the
first scroll.

"I have taken the liberty of retrieving some maps of
your region that pinpoint Human and Dwarven
settlements. These maps are several years old, but I
doubt things have changed greatly." He leaned over
Thranduil's shoulder as he pointed to a narrow place
in the Anduin. "There are several rich grasslands to
the north of your current homeland, and a small
mountain range to the northeast of your current
location..."

Thranduil leaned slightly to one side and looked at
Erestor, barely hiding a look of amusement. This was,
without a doubt, the thinnest ruse to get close to him
he had ever seen; Erestor must be growing desperate.
He let the councilor ramble on about the quality of
the grasslands and locations where bridges over the
Anduin might be built. The Noldo had to know that he
knew the Anduin Vale as well as anyone on earth.

Erestor turned his head to gaze into Thranduil's eyes.
He had to admit, the Sinda was a striking beauty, and
now that he was fully engaged in the game, he found
the prince to be an increasingly enticing subject.
Their faces were but a hair's breadth apart and
Erestor fell silent, staring into fathomless pools of
sapphire. He titled his head a small bit and began to
lean forward, when the prince suddenly stood up.

"Tell me, Councilor, do you think me a fool?"

Erestor righted himself and immediately realized his
blunder; he should have admitted why he had the prince
there before moving to kiss him. "Why, no, your
majesty, I do not. Why would you think I did?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. "Did
you think that I would not know the Anduin Vale better
than anyone in Imladris? I have lived next to it for
the better part of seven hundred years."

"I . . . I uh . . . I was only trying..."

"To get close to me, yes, I know."

"How?"

"I have also lived long enough to recognize interest
in one when I see it. Let us dispense with this game
and be frank, shall we?"

"Of course, my lord."

Thranduil grasped the Noldo by the wrists and bent him
backward over the table, sending several maps sliding
to the floor. "One thing I must make perfectly clear,
my raven-haired friend, I play the sheath to no elf.
If you want me, then you will be taken by me,
understood?"

Erestor gasped as he was pinned to the table, and he
had to admit, it was not an altogether unpleasant
position to be in. He did not normally like to yield,
but if that was what he needed to do to win, then so
be it. He bent his knees and raised his legs high
upon the Sinda's hips. "Perfectly," he crooned.
"Shall you have me now?"

Thranduil chuckled. "A no-nonsense elf. I like
that." He leaned closer. "Personally, I prefer a
little foreplay, unless you are in a hurry for some
reason..."

Erestor arched against Thranduil and turned his head,
as the Sinda leaned in to taste the curve of his ear.
"Oh yes, my prince, foreplay is essential," he
breathed. He found himself becoming aroused much
faster than he anticipated.

"Then I shall see you two bells after the evening
meal, in my chambers. When you enter, do not speak,
nor will I speak to you. I find that words," he
bestowed a nibble to the point of Erestor's ear,
earning a small moan from the councilor, "interfere
with more . . . physical means of communication." He
released the Noldo and stepped away from the table.

"What of Glorfindel?" Erestor queried as he sat up.

"What of Glorfindel?" Thranduil countered.

"You said you recognized interest..."

Thranduil smiled. "Ah, yes, I did notice he is
interested; it would be difficult not to. Strange
that so many elves are so suddenly interested in me;
it seems I have my choice of bed partners here in
Imladris." He turned toward the doorway and cast a
glance over his shoulder. "Leave Glorfindel to me."
He winked, and then departed the library.

Erestor stood and tidied his hair and smoothed his
robes, and then he smirked and headed for his office.

* * * *

Glorfindel bowed, biting the inside of his lip to
conceal the grin that threatened to curve his lips.
The prince's interest upon seeing him shirtless, clad
in nothing but leather breeches, was a little more
than obvious. For his own part, he had to suppress a
shudder of desire as he watched Thranduil remove his
own shirt and shoes, then pick up the training lance
and turn to face him in the sand pit.

"I expect you to treat me no differently than your
other recruits," Thranduil said smoothly, slowly
turning the lance in his hands in a broad, sweeping
circle.

"Of course, your majesty," Glorfindel answered, a
smile curving his lips. He twirled the wooden
training blade in his hand as he adopted a battle
stance.

They started slowly, parry and thrust, each testing
the other's reflexes and discerning the other's style.
Then they continued in earnest, spinning, leaping
backward, lunging forward, and attempting to strike a
blow with the training weapons. Glorfindel had to
admit he was surprised by not only the prince's speed,
but also his skill with what was a Noldor invention.
The Sindar tended to prefer the bow and long knives
for weapons.

He leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the end of the
long lance as it swept past him in a wide arc. He
then ducked as it came back across, and he spun
attempting to sweep the prince's feet out from under
him with his leg. Thranduil leapt up and over
Glorfindel's leg, and brought the tip of the lance
downward, in a stabbing motion, narrowly, but
purposefully avoiding the crouching Elda.

His legs coiled beneath him like springs, Glorfindel
pushed off the ground, catching the prince in the
chest with his shoulder and driving him backward, off
his feet and onto his back in the deep sand. Once
there, he pinned the slighter Sinda beneath his weight
and held Thranduil's wrists over his head. Unarmed,
Thranduil could only yield, but he made sure that he
received the appropriate reaction from his victor.

"I know when I am bested," he purred. "Therefore, I
yield to one who is superior." He shifted beneath
Glorfindel.

"I hope you are not disappointed, my prince,"
Glorfindel murmured. "But I do have years more battle
experience than you."

"Of course, and I would be remiss to not thank you for
your thorough and diligent instruction thus far."

Glorfindel smiled seductively and leaned closer.
"There is much yet that I wish to teach you, my lord."

Thranduil smiled as well. "And I am a willing and apt
pupil, Glorfindel," he murmured.

Glorfindel practically felt his sex twitch inside his
breeches. Finally, finally he had his prize. He
leaned down for a kiss when he heard his regiment
coming down the path. They could not be found in this
position, it would look ill for the prince and go even
worse for him with Elrond. Quickly, he rose and
extended his hand, helping Thranduil rise from the
ground.

Before releasing Glorfindel's hand, Thranduil leaned
forward and murmured, "We can finish our lesson this
eve, and perhaps I can teach you one. Come to my
chamber one bell after the evening meal. You will
find a blindfold and a scarf upon the bed. I trust
you can bind your own wrists behind you?" Glorfindel
nodded. "I will come to you shortly after you do
this. Do not speak, and I will not speak either. I
find that some forms of communication are far superior
to others." He released Glorfindel's hand then
stepped backward, bowing as the recruits arrived, and
then taking his leave.

Glorfindel watched the prince depart, fighting to hide
the wolfish grin that threatened to curve his lips.
This would be a most pleasant evening.

To be continued...

Part 4:

Summary: Thranduil's plan is executed.

Thranduil and Lindir perched on a tree branch outside
his room as the first bell rang after the evening
meal. The whole night had been most unusual; Lindir
had sensed the sexual tension at the table, with both
Glorfindel's and Erestor's attentions fixed on
Thranduil, and Thranduil expertly keeping them both in
thrall without giving an inch of ground. Lindir
thought that perhaps he had never seen one who was so
adept at the art of seduction as this Sinda prince,
and that finally, Glorfindel and Erestor had met their
match.

Lindir had feigned defeat and left the table early to
scout out the most appropriate place in which they
could watch their plan unfold, then he waited outside
until Thranduil departed, caught the prince by the
wrist, and then led him to their hiding place.

Thranduil smiled as he saw Glorfindel enter his dimly
lit bedchamber. They watched as the Elda spied the
blindfold and scarf, removed his tunic, loosened the
laces on his breeches, and un-tucked the thin
undershirt he wore. He sat on the edge of the bed and
tied the blindfold around his eyes, it was wide enough
to obscure most of his face, and then bound his wrists
loosely in front of him. He bent his knees then
pulled his legs through his arms with a little effort,
then waited patiently for his new lover to arrive.

A short time later, Thranduil and Lindir watched
Erestor open the door to the bedchamber and step
inside. In the dimly lit room, Erestor could not make
out details, but he saw enough to be utterly enticed.
His conquest sat on the edge of the bed, his wrists
bound behind his back, a blindfold tied across his
eyes. He approached slowly, each step causing him to
grow more aroused, and then he knelt on the floor and
placed his hands on the elf's knees. The slow rise of
the blonde's chest as he breathed deeply caused him to
swallow, and he leaned forward, placing his hand on
the pack of the elf's neck and drawing his conquest's
lips down to his own for a kiss.

It was much more than he anticipated: hot, wet, full
of yearning desire; this was going to be a most
pleasant evening indeed. He reluctantly left the
delicious mouth, moving around to an elegantly curved
ear. The deep needful moan that escaped the elf's
lips caused a deep sigh to escape his own. He wanted
to speak, to tell the prince how much they would both
enjoy this evening, but he remembered the rules and
kept silent. His fingers unlaced the ties on his
lover's undershirt, and he peeled it away to reveal a
muscular chest. He was pleasantly surprised; he had
not thought that the prince would be so powerfully
built. As his mouth explored this warm, soft,
powerful chest, he saw evidence of his lover's
appreciation of his efforts, as the elf's arousal
strained against his breeches. Moving lower, he began
to slide the breeches down as he kissed his lover's
stomach and then he saw something that made him freeze
in his tracks. A scar, old and refusing to fade
marred otherwise flawless flesh, running from midway
up the elf's side and disappearing below his breeches
near his hip. It was ragged in shape, thick, and
telling of an agonizing death. He knew the tale well;
it was one that featured his best friend.

Quickly he stood and backed away, one hand over his
mouth as he gazed in disbelief. For a moment, he
hovered in indecision, unable to decide between
pride-saving flight and the overwhelming temptation
that presented itself to his eyes. Glorfindel was
clearly aroused and more desirable than he ever could
have imagined he would be. The Elda searched the room
with shrouded eyes, unable to even reach out since his
hands were bound behind his back. His chest still
rose and fell rapidly, his dusky nipples erect, his
proud length straining against his velvet breeches.
Erestor quickly departed the room, making sure
Glorfindel heard his departure.

Glorfindel called out to Thranduil, and when no one
answered, he slipped his wrists from his bonds and
removed his blindfold. "Your majesty?" he called
again, looking around the empty room in confusion.

"What happened?" Lindir whispered.

Thranduil furrowed his brow. "I do not know. He just
suddenly stopped."

"Perhaps he knows, perhaps he recognized him."

"You said you did not believe that they had lain
together."

Lindir nodded. "Aye, it is true. They have not."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Well, either Erestor
had second thoughts, which might not be an altogether
troublesome development, or he saw something that made
him recognize..."

"Valar," Lindir whispered as he placed his hand upon
his forehead.

"What?"

"The scar. He must have seen the scar."

Thranduil closed his eyes and shook his head. "Of
course, I saw it this afternoon. How could I be so
foolish?"

"Now what do we do?"

Thranduil tapped his chin. "I am not sure. Give me a
moment..."

"Wait!" Lindir whispered as he grabbed Thranduil's
arm. "He returns..."

They turned their gazes back to Thranduil's room and
saw Erestor re-enter.

"Glorfindel? What are you doing here?"

Glorfindel turned to see Erestor standing in the open
doorway. "I have an engagement with the prince. What
are you doing here?"

"I have an engagement with the prince," Erestor
answered quietly, and he slowly approached.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well, it
seems our prince decided he would have both of us
then." He shook his head. "Or neither, or perhaps
just you."

"What happened?"

"I was so close, Erestor. He was kissing me - Valar,
the way he kissed..."

Erestor cautiously moved closer. "Good?"

"Oh, more than good. I do not know if I have ever
been kissed so well. His lips were so warm, so soft;
his hands, sweet Elbereth, the way he touched me..."

Erestor tried to hide the smirk that threatened to
curve his lips.

"And he smelled like... honey, and oranges, and
cinnamon... sweet and spicy. He smelled like..."
Glorfindel turned and his eyes widened. He watched
Erestor start to back away and he caught the councilor
by the arms. "He smelled like you! You! It was
you!"

"I . . . I did not know it was you..."

"How could you not know? You have known me for the
better part of an age..."

"He told me to come here and that I would find him.
He said not to speak... he said that..."

"There were more effective means of communication,"
Glorfindel finished.

"Well, actually, he said that words got in the way of
more physical means of communication."

Glorfindel released Erestor's arms and dropped his
head. "Well, it appears the prince has beat us at our
own game."

"And I have a very good idea who helped him," Erestor
answered with narrowed eyes.

"To the victor go the spoils..." Glorfindel murmured.

"Well, not all of them," Erestor answered softly.
"Tell me, would it have made a difference to you if
you had known it was me kissing you, instead of him?"
His heart hammered in his chest, but sometimes one had
to just take a chance.

Glorfindel looked thoughtfully at his friend. "No,
not when I was being kissed like that."

"I can do better," Erestor murmured, a shy smile
curving his lips as he watched Glorfindel step closer.
"Especially now that I know..."

"Know what?" Glorfindel whispered as he leaned closer.

"Know that it is you," Erestor finished, a soft gasp
escaping him as Glorfindel's lips closed on his own.

Lindir began to shout triumphantly when Thranduil
clapped his hand over the minstrel's lips, a broad
grin curving his own. When the prince removed his
hand, Lindir grinned broadly. "It worked, my liege,
look at them..."

"Indeed, my songbird," Thranduil murmured. "You were
right, they are in love."

Erestor arched into Glorfindel's arms, moaning deeply
into the possessive kiss the Elda bestowed upon him.
As a strong hand grasped his buttocks, he groaned and
wrapped one leg around Glorfindel's and clutched at
the warrior's back.

Glorfindel released Erestor's mouth and whispered,
"Valar, Erestor, I had no idea..."

"You have not always been the sharpest blade in the
armory," he murmured, suckling at the warrior's
earlobe.

Glorfindel bit down on the councilor's neck, leaving a
deep purple love bite behind. "Are you saying I am
dull?"

"No, not at all," Erestor groaned as he clutched at
Glorfindel's back. "Merely single-minded. I suppose
I have been less than obvious as well."

"Indeed you have been. I would have thought that I
was the last elf in Middle-earth that you would have
wanted to bed."

"There was much at stake to lose, Glorfindel," Erestor
said softly. He wrapped his arms around the warrior's
shoulders. "There still is."

"Like our friendship?"

"And our hearts."

Glorfindel drew back and smiled. "If I am to lose my
heart, I would lose it to you, my dear Erestor. There
is no one I trust it with more."

Erestor smiled and caressed Glorfindel's face. "I
shall take good care of it, if you promise to do the
same for mine."

Glorfindel lifted Erestor into his arms as the
councilor laughed. "I will, my raven-haired beauty,
and now I plan to bed you right well."

"I am more of the giving than the receiving type, my
lion," Erestor purred. "But I think in your case, I
can make an exception."

"You will not regret it," Glorfindel murmured, then
carried Erestor to his bedchamber.

* * * *

Thranduil held his arms up and caught Lindir as the
minstrel hopped down from the tall tree. "A well laid
plan, if I do say so myself," he said quietly.

"Aye, my lord, most ingenious," Lindir said as he
gazed up into Thranduil's eyes. "You are brilliant
and beautiful, a deadly combination..."

Thranduil smiled. "In my short time here, you have
proven to be a good and kind friend, Lindir."

Lindir smiled and stepped back. "Thank you, my lord."
He sighed. "It is growing late and I suppose you are
looking forward to a good night's sleep. Matchmaking
is difficult work."

"I am looking forward to a good night's sleep." He
caught the minstrel's hand before he could walk away.
"But I can think of nothing better to help me to it
than having you with me."

Lindir looked at Thranduil and smiled. "Are you
saying that you want me to..."

"Come to my bed," Thranduil purred. "I have heard
your voice sing beautiful odes, now I think I wish to
hear it sing a different kind of song."

Lindir wrapped his arms around Thranduil's shoulders.
"Aye, and what better inspiration could I have to sing
such a song than one so beautiful as you?"

Thranduil led Lindir by the hand. "Come, songbird, I
shall make you sing to the rooftops."

Lindir laughed softly and followed the prince to his
bedchamber.

* * * *

Erestor moaned deeply and arched against Glorfindel.
They lay on their sides, the warrior's strong form
molded to his own, his length buried inside his body.
He grasped Glorfindel's hips and pushed back into the
Elda's slow thrust; his own length held securely in
Glorfindel's strong hand, squeezed at the root. His
free hand grasped the head of Glorfindel's bed, his
long fingers curling around the smooth, carved wood.
It had been a long time since he had taken another
inside him, and this time felt better than any other
before. It was as though the warrior was made for him
specially. "Valar, yes," he moaned.

"We should have done this years ago," Glorfindel
murmured as he pushed deep inside Erestor, biting his
lip as he struggled to hold on. "Elbereth, you feel
so good..."

"I do not know how much longer I can last," Erestor
whispered raggedly. The ache threatened to overwhelm
him and he arched his back, a strangled cry escaping
his lips as his length twitched inside Glorfindel's
sure grip once again.

"Nor do I," Glorfindel replied hoarsely. "But I am
determined to find out..." He withdrew then thrust
forward again.

Their sweat-slicked bodies moved against one another,
their deep moans filling the chamber. Glorfindel
slowly began to quicken his movement and Erestor moved
with him. Erestor groaned as Glorfindel sucked hard
on his throat and began to slowly stroke his turgid
length. A long, slow stroke upward, a squeeze at the
tip, then a stroke downward punctuated by a hard
squeeze at the base. Erestor began to tense and
struggle against Glorfindel; it was too much, he
burned all over; he needed it to end, as much as he
wanted it to continue. "Please, Valar, please,
Glorfindel... I need..."

"Stay with me, my love," Glorfindel murmured, his own
body aching for completion. He wrapped his free arm
tighter around Erestor's chest, crushing him against
his body. He increased the speed and depth of his
thrusts, beginning to ride the councilor's body hard.

"Yes, sweet Elbereth, yes!" Erestor cried. "Harder,
harder, Glorfindel..."

They shifted, Erestor moving to his hands and knees
with Glorfindel behind him. He grasped the headboard
of the Elda's bed and braced himself as Glorfindel
began to pound into him relentlessly. Their cries and
groans echoed in the chamber, and as Glorfindel
released his length, he cried out the Elda's name as
he spilled his essence upon the mattress. Trembling,
he struggled to remain on his knees as the warrior
rode out his desire, thrusting deep and growling
before finally spilling deep inside him.

They collapsed upon the bed in a sweaty tangle of
limbs. Erestor sighed as Glorfindel stroked his arms
and dropped kisses to the back of his shoulders.
"Next time, it will be my turn to ride you until you
cannot sit," he murmured, his voice partially muffled
by the pillow.

Glorfindel chuckled and nuzzled Erestor's neck.
"Agreed, my love."

"My love? That is the second time you called me
that."

"And I meant it both times." He pressed a soft kiss
to Erestor's ear. "I have long loved you in many
ways, Erestor, this is just the latest incarnation."

Erestor turned his head. "Really?"

"Aye, really. I have loved you as kinsman, as one who
helps to see that this realm stays safe, as one who
faithfully serves my lord, as my friend, and now, as
my lover. It seems my love for you keeps growing."

Erestor lifted his head and kissed his warrior. "My
beautiful, brave, kind-hearted lion," he murmured. "I
have long loved you as well."

"It is a pity it took us so long to discover this
newly growing love of ours."

"Yes, but now that we have, we can take advantage of
it."

"Mmm... indeed..." Glorfindel murmured, slowly flexing
his hips, sliding his lately sated desire between his
lover's legs.

"For Elbereth's sake, I do not think I can take
another pounding like the one you just gave me,
Glorfindel," Erestor murmured.

Glorfindel chuckled. "Well then, perhaps you should
return the favor."

Erestor squirmed and turned over beneath Glorfindel.
"Gladly, my love," he murmured, before taking his
lover's mouth in a heated kiss.

* * * *

Lindir sighed and arched against the prince;
Thranduil's extraordinarily talented mouth and hands
explored every inch of his body. He gripped the
Sinda's flaxen hair in his fists as he flexed his
hips, his swollen arousal seeking contact with the
prince's warm, wet mouth. "Please, my lord," he
whispered. "I need you..."

"And you have me," Thranduil answered in a husky
murmur. He took Lindir's length in his mouth,
swirling his tongue from base to tip, tasting the
salty-sweet essence that wept from his songbird's
arousal. He took the Noldo deep, drawing the tip of
his turgid length to the back of his throat.

Lindir released the prince's hair as he felt the Sinda
shift position so that they lay parallel, heads near
toes. Gently grasping the prince's muscular thighs,
he took Thranduil's length into his mouth and began to
swallow him in kind. Deep moans reverberated along
his length, and he bent one knee, sliding his leg over
Thranduil's shoulder and draping it over the prince's
waist. He whimpered with need as his length slipped
from Thranduil's lips and the prince's mouth began to
explore deeper between his legs. Swallowing the Sinda
deeper, he cupped the soft, velvety sac of skin
between the prince's legs in his hand and slowly
rolled it. A growl of pleasure escaped the Sinda's
lips, and then he moaned plaintively as a hot, wet
tongue breached his body.

Lindir's moans along his rapidly swelling length were
driving him mad. As he delved into the minstrel's
body, he began to flex his hips and thrust into the
Noldo's throat. For all his innocence, Lindir was an
apt lover, taking every inch of his substantial length
without difficulty or complaint. As the Noldo began
to swallow, he closed his eyes and gave himself over,
welcoming the fall as he spilled deep inside Lindir's
throat with a low growl.

Lindir felt Thranduil shift and the prince's length
slipped from his lips; he groaned plaintively as a
strong hand stroked his aching arousal. He spread his
legs further apart, pressing his backside into the
prince's face as Thranduil stroked him to completion.
He came, spilling over the prince's hand and his own
hip as his body convulsed around the Sinda's hot, wet
tongue.

Panting, he watched through lust glazed eyes as his
prince shifted, lapping his seed from his hip, then
kissing the length of his sated body before curling
against him in the soft bed. "I want you to have me,
my liege," he whispered.

"There will be many nights for me to take you, my
songbird," Thranduil murmured into Lindir's ear. "But
this night, I wish to hold you close and fall asleep
to the sound of your heartbeat and your breathing."

Lindir smiled and snuggled closer. It would be a long
and wonderful winter in Imladris.

~Finis