The Reward

Title: The Reward
Rating: NC-17
Cast: Glorfindel, Thranduil, Erestor, Legolas
Beta: Fimbrethiel
WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, PWP.
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: This follows "The Hunt", but it could stand alone, I suppose. For Kenaz, Sus and Ryo, who requested the morning after, and who are getting a bit more than asked for.
Summary: A tangled web develops.

Chapter 1:

'Mmm... even the sound of his breathing is beautiful,' Erestor thought. The Advisor from Imladris lay on his side, hand tucked beneath the pillow, eyes focused on the slumbering Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas' eyes were clouded with reverie, yet no less beautiful than when sparkling with mirth. The prince's chest rose and fell with each deep, soft breath, and Erestor's eyes wandered over the Sinda's form: he was lean and muscular; his face and body still bearing signs of his youth. The prince was just past his majority and already he was an experienced warrior and lover. 'So much life lived by one so young,' Erestor mused.

He was, himself, thousands of years Legolas' senior; indeed it was two ages in full. To Men, Elves did not age physically, but one who was acquainted with the long march of time could see what was imperceptible to those whose lives sparked, burned and waned like a flickering flame. For two full ages, Erestor had walked Middle-earth. He had communed with and advised kings and rulers whose names now filled lore books and were uttered in awe-filled whispers by the children of Men and Elves alike. He had fought in the wars of Beleriand; he had witnessed the building and destruction of Gondolin, the founding of Lindon, the downfall of Eregion, and finally, he had taken part in the Last Alliance; that battle was his last as a warrior.

As the Third Age dawned, he had taken his place as Elrond's senior and most trusted advisor; his life was now one of negotiation and planning, ensconced in the safety of the hidden valley of Imladris. This trip to Mirkwood, while uneventful thus far from a danger perspective, had reminded him what it was like to be ever vigilant, despite having Glorfindel at his side. As fearsome as his friend was, and indeed he was, there were still orcs that were bloodthirsty enough to risk attack. And the spiders; those fearsome creatures had no fear of the Eldar.

It was hard to imagine that this sleeping, peaceful and innocent looking prince had felled man, orc and spider alike; that among other talents, he excelled at killing. Legolas was indeed an enigma: soft and lovely, strong and fierce, full of both youthful mischief and calculated skill. It was also hard to imagine how fascinated Erestor had become with this Prince of the Sindar, young enough to be his own offspring, yet one of the most incredible lovers he had ever had.

A soft mumble, uttered by a voice as deep and rich as molasses, signaled the prince's awakening. Erestor watched in rapt fascination as Legolas' eyes cleared and his feline body stretched. "Elbereth help me," he whispered to himself. "I think I am in love..."

A smile curved Legolas' mouth as he woke and saw Erestor watching him. He rolled to his side and reached out, caressing the counselor's cheek. "Good morning, lover," he murmured sleepily.

"Good morning, my prince," Erestor answered.

"Mmm... I like the sound of that," Legolas replied softly as he moved closer. "My prince."

"Are you?" Erestor asked as he accepted Legolas into his arms.

"I would like to think so," Legolas returned.

Erestor brushed his lips across Legolas' forehead. "I am far too old for you, you know this."

Legolas chuckled, his warm breath fluttering against Erestor's throat. "What is age to us? We live forever..."

"Our lives are so different..."

"No so much," Legolas interrupted. "Yes, I am a soldier by trade, you an advisor, but you were a soldier once. I love music, art and lore, as you do. I do not think we are so different."

"I wonder if your father would agree," Erestor murmured into Legolas' hair.

"My father does not interfere in my choices," Legolas answered as his lips began exploring Erestor's collarbone.

"You will grow tired of me soon enough," Erestor responded as his hands caressed Legolas' long back. "But 'tis no matter, I am only here a short while and you are free to do as you like."

Legolas pulled back and looked thoughtfully into Erestor's eyes. The counselor always maintained a nearly unreadable mask of serene confidence, yet there was something in his eyes this morning that was different. "I realize that I have quite the reputation," he began softly. "While I may dally and tryst with young lovers, this does not mean that I do not want more."

"What more could you want?" Erestor queried, "You have your choice of lovers; I doubt there is an elf here who would refuse you." He anxiously awaited the prince's answer.

"Love," Legolas responded. "Is it not what we all want? I know that one does not fall in love for eternity in a day, but I am drawn to you, Erestor. I was hoping you felt the same way." He slowly drew his leg up the counselor's thigh, bringing it to rest upon his lover's hip.

"I do," Erestor whispered as his lips gently caressed those of his lover.

Legolas smiled against Erestor's mouth and said, "Good..."

Erestor rolled over Legolas and pressed him into the bed.

* * * *

Glorfindel moaned softly as he woke. The warm press of the king's body against his back brought a smile to his lips and he blinked, shaking off the last vestiges of reverie. Flaxen hair, the hue of summer wheat, lay across his shoulder and a taut, well-formed body of a warrior slowly moved against his own.

"You intimidate me," Thranduil's husky voice whispered. "Though I imagine I am not the first to tell you this."

"How so?" Glorfindel murmured, arching back against his lover's body.

"You are Glorfindel, you have seen things I cannot imagine, you have faced the Witch King, battled a Balrog, walked the Halls of Mandos... How could one such as me not be intimidated by one such as you?"

"But you are a king, I am but a soldier," Glorfindel answered.

"I am only king by default," Thranduil responded. "I am a ruler of a displaced people, king of an underground refuge in a slowly dying wood."

"Nay, you are much more than that, my lord. I remember how valiantly you fought on the Morannon, even as you watched your father fall..."

"A dark day in my life," Thranduil responded. "I am sure you have had many of your own."

"That I have," Glorfindel answered. "I find it interesting that I intimidate you, for you do the same to me."

"How so?" the king murmured against Glorfindel's neck.

"It is difficult to explain. There is something about you that is most powerful and mysterious, something that I wish to know, yet fear to see revealed."

"Of all the rulers in Middle-earth, I am the youngest, and by far the weakest. I must have something that works to my advantage..." Thranduil murmured against the juncture of his lover's neck and shoulder.

"You call yourself weak, yet we both know better. I would wager, all things being fair, that you could hold your own against any of the others." Glorfindel's voice melted into a sigh as he closed his eyes.

Thranduil's hands ran the length of Glorfindel's body, softly, yet possessively exploring the curves of his waist and hips. "You would wager that, they would not. I have not your lord's wisdom or power, I have not Celeborn's years of battle experience nor a wife who is the most powerful of all that walk Middle-earth, nor do I have Círdan's foresight... I do not have in my possession that which they hold, that which we can never speak of. I am but a common elf, one who leads his people as best he may."

Glorfindel chuckled, then moaned softly. "Common is not a word I would associate with you, my lord."

"Well, perhaps not common..." Thranduil murmured in assent as he nipped Glorfindel's shoulder blade. He rolled Glorfindel to his back, his hands softly exploring the warrior's chest. "For certainly no common elf would elicit such interest from one who has his choice of bedfellows."

"Certainly not," Glorfindel agreed with a distracted grin as he arched into Thranduil's touch. "I imagine you have your choice of bedfellows as well..."

Thranduil glanced up from the warrior's chest, a seductive smile curving his lips as he detected the almost inaudible gasp that came from his bedmate. "Being a king does have some advantages..." he responded before sliding up the length of Glorfindel's body to hover over his face.

All sense of time or place seemed to fall away as Glorfindel gazed into Thranduil's eyes. Distantly, one thought turned over in his mind, 'What they say is true... his eyes...' The Sinda's eyes were the deep blue of a moonlight sky at midnight, his hair, pale and warm, soft as silk hung around their faces like a veil. Lips, soft and pink, wet and inviting hovered near his own so that he could feel the king's breath flow across his own mouth. "You intend to bewitch me," he breathed.

"Should it come to that," Thranduil answered with a seductive smile. His hand slowly stroked Glorfindel's abdomen, and he could feel the Noldo's body respond to his touch. "I have already given to you that which few have ever known, my friend. Would you begrudge me the same?"

Slowly, Glorfindel raised his hands from the bed, gently threading his fingers into the king's impossibly soft hair. "I fear I am unable to begrudge you anything," he whispered.

"Fear, 'tis a most appropriate emotion, for should I have my way you will want no other for all the days you walk Middle-earth."

"You intend to ruin me then?" Glorfindel closed his eyes, unable to look into Thranduil's powerful gaze a moment longer.

"You are already ruined," Thranduil murmured as he took Glorfindel's mouth in a deep kiss.

* * * *

Legolas moaned softly as he wrapped his legs around Erestor's waist. He slowly thrust upward, bringing their swollen lengths into contact. Deep groans and barely audible whimpers escaped him as the counselor's teeth marked his neck, the purpled bruises then soothed by Erestor's warm tongue. Erestor was claiming him; it was something that no other lover had ever dared to do. True, he had allowed others to take him, but those were few, and the ones who had, did so with an almost reverent touch. But Erestor - he did no such thing. Erestor's touch was strong, masterful, claiming. The Noldo saw what he wanted, and Legolas' station in life made little impression on him.

To tell the truth, Legolas enjoyed it. It was a welcome relief from those who tread carefully and went out of their way to show their respect. He could not think of an elf within a thousand miles who did not see him as both a prince, and more to the point, Thranduil's son. While his father may not have a Ring of Power, or hold the same status of the other rulers of Elven kingdoms, he was widely regarded as one of the most fearsome elves in Middle-earth. Few relished the thought of being on the receiving end of Thranduil's temper.

Legolas fisted Erestor's hair and cried out into the counselor's neck as Erestor gently squeezed the tightening pouch of flesh beneath his arousal. "Yes," he whispered. "Take me."

"I intend to, my prince," Erestor growled deeply. The rush of adrenaline that accompanied Legolas' yielding was hard to put into words. Certainly, Erestor had taken more than one male in the past, and had more than one lover who was happy enough to take the submissive role in their liaisons, but this was different. The softness with which Legolas complied and gave of himself was made all the more tantalizing by the strength that Erestor knew the prince possessed. Should the prince change his mind, Erestor knew Legolas was more than able to fight back and perhaps even turn the tables.

Physically, they were quite well matched. Erestor did not possess the heft that most warriors did; he spent many of his days behind a desk, not wielding a sword or firing a bow. Despite his attention to his body using exercise, he had lost some of the bulk he once possessed. He was taller than Legolas and perhaps a slight bit heavier, but that was his only advantage. Yet, despite their similarity in size, they were quite different. He was dark; Legolas was light. He was serious, Legolas playful. He was born of Aman, Legolas born of Middle-earth. Most importantly, he was Noldor; his prince was Sindar.

His fingers closed around the phial of oil they had used the night before and he struggled to escape Legolas' grasp so that he could sit up. The prince reluctantly released him, though Legolas' hands caressed his thighs as he prepared himself. It was difficult to concentrate with Legolas looking at him like that; the prince had a hungry and wanton expression. He had but to touch the inside of Legolas' thigh and the prince opened wide for him and curled his fingers around the birch wood that formed the head of his bed.

Legolas' eyes never left his own. The Sinda's eyes asked no questions and brooked no argument; they merely drew him in and threatened to drown him.

Gathering the prince's legs in his arms, Erestor leaned forward, unable to escape Legolas' gaze, and pushed forward, sliding home into tight, soft heat. His own deep groan was answered by Legolas' more plaintive call, and as his eyelids slid closed, he felt his mouth drawn to that of his lover's.

Legolas ignored the burning discomfort of being breached, and he pulled his legs higher upon Erestor's sides, shifting his hips so that his lover sank deeper into him. He thought he heard Erestor mutter something, and then he felt the counselor begin to move. He clenched his jaw and took all that Erestor had to give, despite the discomfort that came with it. Soon, his body stopped resisting and his lover moved easily within him, and his own pleasure began to mount.

Erestor pressed his forehead into Legolas' shoulder and bore down, pushing deeper and faster into his lover's body. Legolas felt so good, as if he were meant for him, as if they were meant to fit together this way. It was strange that the same thought had flickered in the lust-addled recesses of his mind the night before, as he had been taken by the prince. Legolas' voice, a voice that would echo in his mind for the rest of his waking days and beyond, called to him in deep, honeyed moans. He felt the prince's mouth upon his ear as he bore down harder, riding Legolas with almost reckless abandon.

Inserting a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies, he grasped Legolas' arousal and began stroking it in time with his thrusts. The plaintive cry that escaped his lover almost sent him over the edge, but he was determined that Legolas should fall before he did. Nearing the end of his endurance, he felt Legolas' body tighten around him and heard the soft, aching cry of surrender as his prince spilled between them. His own cry, deep and almost mournful, signaled his own release as he emptied himself inside Legolas.

Exhausted, he collapsed upon Legolas' heaving chest, nuzzling his lover's neck as his arousal still twitched inside the prince's body. He smiled as he felt Legolas' hands caressing his back, callused fingertips drawing lazy patterns in the sweat that covered his back. "Sweet Elbereth," he murmured breathlessly. "That felt so good; you feel so good..."

Legolas smiled and wrapped his arms around his lover. "Mmm, I love the way you touch me, Erestor," he answered softly. "It is as if you can see into my thoughts and give me what I want."

"I shall do my best, my liege," Erestor whispered playfully.

Legolas chuckled. "See that you do, counselor." He squeezed his lover's body and closed his eyes, content to lie abed with his lover atop him and inside him.

* * * *

Glorfindel groaned, wadding the bedcovers in his fists and spreading his legs further apart. Thranduil's hands roamed his back possessively, the king's mouth tormenting him in delicious ways. A squeeze to one of his buttocks, a nip to his shoulder, a lick along his spine, all these things were swiftly driving him mad. If he so much as shifted his hips he was spanked on the backside, so he lay perfectly still while the king leisurely explored his body. His arousal throbbed ceaselessly, trapped between his body and the bed. He bit his lip to keep from pleading with Thranduil; despite the fact that he was now at the king's mercy, he did have a modicum of pride left.

Thranduil spread Glorfindel's buttocks wide with his thumbs and bent down, drawing one slow lick along the cleft of the Noldo's backside. That was enough to batter down Glorfindel's resolve and the king heard Glorfindel mutter, "For Elbereth's sake, are you trying to kill me?"

Thranduil chuckled and nipped Glorfindel's seat bone, murmuring, "Perhaps..."

Circling the entrance to his lover's body with his tongue, Thranduil purred in appreciation. "Mmm, your scent is intoxicating..." Forcing his way past the ring of muscle that endeavored to keep him out, he thrust his tongue inside Glorfindel's body.

"Ai!" Glorfindel cried as he reflexively spread his legs wider and pushed back against Thranduil's face. "Valar, that feels good..." he murmured hoarsely. He squirmed against his lover's face as Thranduil's tongue slid in and out of his body. His thighs began to tremble and he closed his eyes, whispering to himself, "Do not beg... do not beg..."

He whimpered in protest as the deliciously wet tongue left his body, then he felt a spank on his hip as he heard the king command, "On your knees, Noldo."

He rose to his hands and knees and glanced defiantly over his shoulder at the king, who knelt behind him, his rather substantial length standing hard against his stomach. "Intent on retribution, I see," he managed to say, despite his more than obvious state of arousal.

Thranduil worked the oil into his length with one hand as he appreciatively rubbed Glorfindel's back with the other. "Intent is a goodly term," he answered, smiling sensually. "You have a magnificent back, my friend, long and muscled, with the most elegant curve before your lovely backside."

Glorfindel bit back a grin. "I am most glad you approve, my lord," he answered before suppressing a groan as Thranduil's oiled fingers entered him.

"I do approve, very much," Thranduil murmured as he sought his mark. A wicked smile curved his lips as he found it and watched Glorfindel arch against his hand as his lover cried out. "I approve of that even more," he said.

"You are determined to see me debauched and spent," Glorfindel ground out from a clenched jaw as he fought to hang on to his self-control.

"Intent, determined, these are most strong words to describe my aim," Thranduil answered. "What I am determined to achieve is our mutual pleasure, my friend. Is there any harm in that?"

Glorfindel could not suppress the cry that erupted from him as Thranduil found his mark again. He panted heavily and found himself arching and pressing back against the king's hand. "That all depends," he managed to answer.

"On what?" Thranduil queried.

"On what the price of that pleasure is to me."

Thranduil spread Glorfindel wide and pressed the tip of his arousal against the Noldo's entrance. "Is there a price too great for pleasure that lays waste to your defenses?" he murmured.

Glorfindel closed his eyes and whispered to himself, "Only my heart." He then cried out as Thranduil entered him. Unwilling to remain passive, he pushed back roughly and was met with a purr of approval from the king. Immediately, Thranduil began to ride him hard and he met each of the king's thrusts with equal vigor, ignoring the burning ache that accompanied such a rough taking. His own pleasure soon drowned out the protest of his body, and when he felt the king's hand close around his arousal he began to thrust into it. It was not long before his end came and he spent himself into the bedding. Thranduil's own fall came hard upon, and he felt the king empty himself inside him.

They collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty, sticky pile of limbs. Glorfindel did not expect what came next: the king curled around him protectively, gathering him close and holding him to his chest. He lay in Thranduil's arms, his heavy-lidded eyes struggling to maintain focus on the wall. Soon, lulled by the warmth of his lover's body and the protective cocoon of his embrace, Glorfindel slipped back into reverie.

To be continued...

Chapter 2:

Summary: A tangled web develops.

Erestor sat across the table from Thranduil. He had been unable to make headway past the king's admission that he was aware of the orcs that were prowling the Anduin Vale. There was more to it, he knew, but either Thranduil was as ignorant as he claimed to be, or he was concealing greater knowledge of the cause of such events.

"Surely it comes as no surprise that the foul spawn of the Dark Lord inhabits these lands. One would have to be blind not to see the change in this once-great forest. The southern reaches are polluted with the dank reek of death. Slowly it creeps northward, and we have withdrawn. The day will come when my warriors can no longer stem the tide and the forest will be overrun with orcs, spiders and other fell beasts. I have no power to stop it, but there are those who do..."

"We must not speak of this!" Erestor barked. He closed his eyes and composed himself. "Forgive me, my lord, for taking such a harsh tone, but you know, as do I, the danger of this talk. Should He discover..." He took a deep breath. "What you imply is impossible."

Thranduil sat back in his chair. "Of course, it would seem so to those who are safe, to those who are protected. 'Tis of little effort to talk of impossibilities when one's home is not in eminent danger. Perhaps it is true that the Noldor are favored by the Valar, as you seem to think..."

"Father!" Legolas cried. Never had he heard his father use such language.

Thranduil held up his hand. "Forgive me, Erestor. In my frustration, I have resorted to old grudges and insults. 'Tis beneath me." Erestor bowed his head in acceptance. Thranduil continued, "I assure you, orcs in these lands are not uncommon; indeed, they are as much a part of this landscape as you or me."

A weary, wet, and soiled elf entered the chamber, approached the king, and bent down to whisper in his ear. Thranduil pushed his chair back from the table. "Now if you will excuse me, one of my patrols has returned with ill news."

Glorfindel rose as well. "May I assist you in some way, my lord?"

Thranduil smiled. "My thanks, Lord Glorfindel, but I do not require your assistance. Please, make yourselves at home."

The door closed behind the king and Erestor groaned in frustration. "Why will he not be forthcoming? What is it that he is hiding?"

Legolas leveled his gaze upon Erestor. "I assure you, he hides nothing, Erestor. My father is an honest and good ruler."

"Spoken like a good son," Erestor murmured.

Legolas furrowed his brow, his gaze growing cold. "I am a good son, and a good warrior, and a prince, lest you forget, counselor. And I am no fool."

Erestor reached for Legolas' arm, but the prince departed before he could touch him. "Forgive me," he said, but his words fell on deaf ears as the door closed behind Legolas.

"Well done, my friend," Glorfindel said softly.

"Silence," Erestor grumbled. "I do not need you to point out to me the many ways I just blundered."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement. "One might have difficulty ascertaining that you are a diplomat by trade..."

"All right!" Erestor barked, then placed his head in his hands. "I am an idiot; I admit that."

Glorfindel placed his hand on Erestor's shoulder. "Not a complete idiot," he answered.

"I feel so much better now..."

Glorfindel smiled. "Erestor, Legolas' first loyalty must always be to his king, to his father. Thranduil is all he has left in this world. Would you count your own loyalty to Elrond any differently?"

"I know." Erestor sighed and sat back in his chair. "It was cruel of me to speak to him thusly. I must make amends."

Glorfindel sat on the table, one hand resting on Erestor's hand, the other on his own thigh. "You will, and he will forgive you." He cocked his head. "Do you really think that Thranduil has some greater knowledge that he will not share?"

"You and I both know what occurred south of here, as does Thranduil. My heart tells me that these orcs are searching for that which we cannot name."

"And if this is the truth, why would Thranduil not share this information with us? If they find it, if He regains it, we know what will happen; Thranduil must know this too."

"What if Thranduil finds it first? What are these patrols he keeps sending out?"

"Erestor! Surely you do not mean that; you cannot mean to imply that the king would seek it for himself."

"He is desperate, Glorfindel. Desperate rulers do desperate things... think of the Númenóreans..."

"They were Men!" Glorfindel barked as he regained his feet. "Thranduil is one of the Firstborn, he has seen the result of the power of that Ring! He would never think of such a thing!"

"His people are dying, Glorfindel. His home is dying. I think he would do anything in his power to protect it."

"Not that, Erestor," Glorfindel answered, shaking his head. "He will send them over the Sea before he resorts to that. You are wrong."

"I hope I am," Erestor answered softly.

"You are wrong," Glorfindel repeated, and then he left Erestor alone in the chambers with his thoughts.

* * * *

Legolas stiffened as he was swept up in Erestor's embrace.

"Forgive me, my prince," Erestor murmured into Legolas' ear.

"'Tis not an easy thing you ask of me, counselor," Legolas responded. "You all but accused my father of conspiring with the Dark Lord and accused me of aiding that black deed."

"It was not my intention to imply thus," Erestor answered softly. "But I fear your father, out of love and duty to his lands and his people, might make an unwise decision, and you, being the dutiful and honorable son that you are, would aid him even if it were unwise. I can see the pain in his eyes when he speaks of the gathering dark; that kind of pain makes one do ill-advised things, even when the intentions are the best."

"My father does not know, any more than you do, why those orcs are patrolling the valley. If he were able to control them, do you not think he would banish them or murder them all? Especially after what they did to..." he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Erestor knew that the queen had been killed in an ambush near the forest road when Legolas was not more than ten years old. The prince had been snatched from the grip of an orc by his father's own hand. Thranduil had been forced to choose between saving his wife or his son; it was a decision that weighed heavily on both of them, he could tell.

"Forgive me, Legolas, perhaps I was desperate in my own way."

Legolas turned in Erestor's arms. "He is a good and just king, Erestor, and he has raised me well. No one hates that which the Dark Lord has created more than we do."

"I know," Erestor answered as he caressed Legolas' cheek.

Legolas smiled. "I forgive you for your dedication to your duty."

Erestor brushed his lips across Legolas' forehead. "I would return her to both of you, if it were in my power. I know what it is to lose a mother."

"How did you lose your own?" Legolas asked softly.

"She died on the Grinding Ice," Erestor answered. "As did many who made that ill-fated crossing."

Legolas wrapped his arms around Erestor's waist. "Hold me and listen to the rain with me; I love the rain, it washes His filth from the earth."

Erestor pressed his cheek into his lover's ear, closed his eyes, and focused on the sound of the falling rain and the rhythm of the prince's breathing.

To be continued...

Chapter 3:

Summary: Doubts plague the lovers.

"This will delay our return," Glorfindel murmured to himself as he watched the rain fall heavily and steadily. He could not see past the entrance to the caves, as the rain came in thick sheets, obscuring his vision. "The river rises," he continued to himself.

"'Tis of no concern."

Glorfindel turned to see Thranduil standing behind him.

"We have built culverts to divert any overflow so the caves will not flood."

"Have you seen rain fall this heavily before?" Glorfindel asked.

"No," Thranduil answered. "But then I have seen many things as of late that I have not seen before."

"Such as?"

"Spiders north of the Forest Road, orcs traveling in broad daylight, an orange glow coming from the wastelands of the Dark Lord that does not fade with the rising of Anor..."

"You believe He has awakened," Glorfindel murmured.

"I do not believe He ever slept," Thranduil answered. "I do not believe you slept either," the king added with a slight smile.

"Did I wake you?"

"Aye, but that is of no concern. I do not sleep much myself. However, I did miss the feel of your skin against my own this morn."

"Erestor and I are expected home soon; this rain will delay our departure."

Thranduil shifted his gaze from the Noldo to the darkening skies. "Aye, the rivers will be too dangerous to cross and the mountain passes will flood." He glanced at Glorfindel. "I suppose you believe I had something to do with this."

Glorfindel turned his head to look at his lover. "Why would you think that?"

"You seem to be in a hurry to leave me, or, my realm, I should say."

"I do not want to leave, yet I do not want to stay." He returned his gaze to the falling rain.

"Well, have no fear, Glorfindel. I will not stand in the way of your leave-taking."

Glorfindel turned to reply, but the king was gone. "Why must you make this so difficult?" he murmured to the empty space his lover left behind.

* * * *

Glorfindel entered Thranduil's chamber. He had long ago abandoned his own guest quarters and the pretense of knocking upon the king's door. He had spent every night since the hunt in Thranduil's bed, which was a month ago. Some nights they simply lay in one another's arms; however, most often they spent the evenings exploring one another, finding those secret places and secret touches that elicited deep moans and breathless sighs. For his own part, it was far too late for him to consider spending his nights in any other way, for it was not long after the king took him the first time that he found himself unwilling and unable to resist. Thranduil, however, was quite unreadable; for however much the king gave of himself during their couplings, he always held back that which Glorfindel desired most.

Glorfindel found the king sitting in a wide chair near the fire. His lover was clad only in a thin, silken robe that lay open to his abdomen. His hair was loose and flowed over his shoulders like a flaxen waterfall, shimmering in the firelight. The king's eyes were closed, his brow slightly knit as if he were contemplating something of some concern. Glorfindel disrobed without a word, then knelt at the king's feet.

Thranduil felt the touch of Glorfindel's hands upon his thighs and opened his eyes to gaze upon the nude form of his lover. If only he could cast Glorfindel aside and move on as he had done so many times to so many others before; yet it was not nearly that easy. Strong hands, hands that had killed, hands that had taught, hands that had built and loved caressed his thighs, and they were sending tingling waves of desire coursing through his body.

"I take it the rain still falls?" Thranduil asked quietly.

"Why do you do that?" Glorfindel asked.

Thranduil heard the sorrow in the Noldo's voice. "Do what? Speak that which you will not? I have never asked any allegiance from you, Glorfindel. You are free to go when you wish."

Glorfindel parted Thranduil's legs and slipped between them, reaching for the cord that held Thranduil's robe loosely closed. "What if I do not wish to leave?"

Thranduil turned his head and closed his eyes. "Then stay, if that is what you want."

"What I want, I cannot have, or at least that is how it appears," Glorfindel answered softly, before pressing his mouth to Thranduil's stomach.

Thranduil could not stop the moan that escaped his lips; it was tinged with pain and he knew Glorfindel heard it. "Love makes idiots of us all," he whispered, then buried his hands in Glorfindel's golden mane.

"Not all of us," Glorfindel murmured against his lover's stomach.

"No, only me," Thranduil answered, before drawing Glorfindel's mouth to his own.

Pulling the robe aside, Glorfindel bared his lover's body to his eyes. His hands roamed greedily over the taut, alabaster flesh that covered lean muscle. He climbed into Thranduil's lap, assaulting the king's mouth with voracious intensity, clasping his lover's arousal to his own and stroking them both together. Releasing Thranduil's mouth he moaned, "Valar, I have never wanted another so much. Never has another felt so good to me, so right..."

Thranduil buried his hands in Glorfindel's golden locks, fisting it and pulling the Noldo's head back to bare his throat. "Wanting you is not enough," he growled, "taking you is not enough."

"What is enough?" Glorfindel groaned as his lover's teeth sunk into his neck. He gasped as Thranduil sucked hard upon his bruised flesh, then released him and pulled his face close to his own.

"No more talk," the king growled, then took his lover's mouth in a brutal kiss.

* * * *

Erestor rolled over, his hand searching the empty place in the bed where Legolas had been. He pushed himself up groggily and shifted to a sitting position, rubbing his face as he looked around the dimly lit room. "Legolas?"

His princely lover emerged from his bathing chamber, fully dressed.

"Did I wake you, lover?" Legolas' smooth voice purred.

Erestor watched him cross the room and bend down to place a warm, wet kiss upon his lips. "Where are you going?" he asked breathlessly after Legolas released his mouth.

"Patrol, my beauty. 'Tis my turn in the forest."

"But it is raining terribly hard, and it is dark and cold. I do not think it wise..."

Legolas placed his fingers upon his lover's lips to silence him. "My soldiers have been out there in the cold and dark and rain for weeks; I will not lie here in my warm, dry bed, as tempting as you make it, while they go without relief. I cannot ask of them what I am unwilling to give."

Erestor nodded. "Aye. You are right. I will keep your bed warm for you, yes?"

"You will stay until I return? I will be gone a fortnight."

"I doubt the roads will be passable before then; besides, I cannot leave without loving you once more."

Legolas smiled, sending a tremor of joy coursing through Erestor's body.

"I will see you in a fortnight then, my dark beauty. I will think fondly of you here in my bed until my return."

The prince slipped from the bedchamber before Erestor could answer. Not more than a few minutes passed before he was out of bed and searching through his belongings. Snatching up leggings, a tunic, his cloak and boots, he entered the bathing chamber. A few moments later, he emerged, his hair braided into a single plait and he was clad in riding apparel. He grabbed his sword, strapping it to his hip, and strode from the bedchamber.

* * * *

Glorfindel woke to find his lover sleeping. He propped his sore body up on one elbow and watched Thranduil in his reverie. His lover's flesh was marred with love bites and red scratches, yet his lips were curved in the slightest of satisfied smiles. Glorfindel's own skin bore the marks of one claimed by the king, and he too had slept like the dead. He reached out, his flat palm and outstretched fingers caressing Thranduil's bruised and bitten chest, his forefinger tracing the circumference of one particularly large purple mark. It was the way of warriors, he supposed, to make such rough love; yet, he longed to see the softer side of Thranduil's nature, to feel the gentle touch of a beloved.

He touched his king in such a way now, with feather-light caresses, as if his touch would soothe and take away the remnants of the previous night's exertions. He moved closer, his lips softly caressing Thranduil's flesh, and he heard a long, ragged intake of breath come from his lover. Gently, he took the king's nipple into his mouth, slowly suckling it as he moved ever closer, pressing the length of his body against Thranduil's side. He felt his king's hand in his hair, softly caressing its length, fingers gently kneading his scalp. The king murmured in his sleep, his head slowly turning away from Glorfindel.

Glorfindel looked up to see the smallest of tears form in the corner of his lover's eye, and he kissed it away as he pressed up against Thranduil. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, then he parted his lips and whispered, "I love you," into his lover's ear.

"Do not jest, not like that," his lover's deep voice whispered.

"I do not," Glorfindel answered. "I speak true." He reached out and turned Thranduil's head so that his lover faced him. "I have never uttered those words to another; please do not make me regret them."

"I am afraid," Thranduil whispered.

"So am I."

"I cannot survive another heartbreak, Glorfindel. I cannot lose another that I love. Had it not been for my son..."

"I know," Glorfindel replied, then brushed his lips against Thranduil's. "You will not lose me, I promise."

Thranduil rolled over Glorfindel and gazed at his lover's marked throat. He winced as his fingers caressed the bruised skin. "Fear made me do this," he murmured. "Forgive me."

"I gave as well as I took," Glorfindel answered with a gentle smile.

"Aye, that you did." Thranduil grinned.

"Make love to me," Glorfindel whispered. "Really make love to me..."

"Yes," Thranduil replied, and covered his lover's mouth with his own.

Glorfindel moaned softly into the kiss, surrendering to his lover's warm, wet mouth. Thranduil's tongue glided over his own, sweeping across the roof of his mouth, before curling back around his tongue. His lover's body undulated slowly atop him; his hands softly caressed his arms and sides. As Thranduil released his mouth, he moaned wantonly, not only from desire but also from the joy of finally having that which he had searched for his entire life. Lips, softer and warmer than any should be, caressed his skin and he arched into his lover's touch. "Yes," he whispered, "you feel so very good."

Thranduil purred like a cat, tasting and exploring Glorfindel's body with his mouth. "You taste like honey and oranges," he murmured, "and you feel so good beneath my hands." Slowly, he made his way down Glorfindel's torso, pausing to suckle his erect nipples and wring cries of passion from his beloved's lips. As his hand slid between his lover's thighs, he felt Glorfindel yield immediately; the Noldo bent his knees and spread his legs wide. He watched Glorfindel's face as he slid his hand between his lover's legs, gently rolling the velvety pouch of flesh against his palm. Glorfindel's lips parted and a long ragged sigh escaped his lips, and Thranduil thought he had never heard anything more beautiful or felt breath so sweet. Gently his hands worshipped that which he had taken so roughly the night before, as if his touch could soothe and erase that desperate act of lust. He stroked his lover to full arousal, his lips joining his hands in the act. He murmured, "Give me the oil, my love" and Glorfindel complied, spreading his legs wider in invitation.

Thranduil poured a small amount into his hand, coating both his fingers and his arousal with it. He stroked the puckered opening to his lover's body with the pad of his finger, watching Glorfindel arch against the bed in anticipation. He took Glorfindel's length into his mouth as his fingers slid easily inside his lover's body. The Noldo was still eager even after the roughness of their coupling the night before. He stroked the spot deep inside Glorfindel that caused fire to roar through his lover's body, and then gripped the base of his beloved's length to prevent his release.

"Ai, Elbereth!" Glorfindel cried as his sore body contracted. His breath came heavily now, and his skin was covered with fine beads of sweat. As his arousal stilled in his lover's hand he looked down to watch Thranduil's oiled fist gliding along its length. Glorfindel watched with lust-glazed eyes as his lover expertly stroked his shaft then the king rose to his knees to straddle his hips.

"You have given more than enough, my love," Thranduil purred as he shifted to position himself over Glorfindel's turgid and weeping length. "'Tis time I gave back to you."

Glorfindel cried out as Thranduil lowered himself upon his length. "Valar!" he whispered hoarsely. He was squeezed mercilessly by his beloved's body; Thranduil's unprepared passage contracted and clenched around his pulsating arousal. He heard the ragged release of his lover's breath and watched the bunched and tense muscles in the king's throat slowly relax.

Thranduil arched atop Glorfindel, his body tight as a bowstring, paused in time and space as his body accepted Glorfindel inside him. With the pain came a kind of release, an acceptance of that which he had denied since his first night with Glorfindel. The pain battered down the walls he had built, opened him up so that there was no resistance left. Slowly the burning subsided and his body relaxed and accepted that which was meant to be.

Glorfindel lay frozen beneath his lover, unwilling to move for fear he would cause him greater pain or injury. He stroked Thranduil's thighs, feeling them tremble beneath his hand. "'Tis too much, my love," he whispered. "Let us do this the proper way, let me..."

"Ssshh..." Thranduil whispered as the resistance faded from his body. "This is how I want it to be." Slowly he began to move atop his beloved, rising and falling upon Glorfindel's lap. Glorfindel's deep moans drove him on, drowning out the protestations of his body. He could live and die by that sound, by that deep, melodic voice, by the unintelligible sounds of that which could not be expressed in words. As he began to move more freely, Glorfindel sat up and wrapped his arms around him. He dipped his head to meet his lover's questing lips and buried his hands in the Noldo's hair. "I love you," he whispered against Glorfindel's mouth. "I will always love you..."

"I have loved you since the first time I saw you," Glorfindel answered. "I have just been to afraid to say it before now." He buried his face in Thranduil's shoulder as he felt his release roar through him like wildfire. He uttered a heartrending cry as he spilled himself inside his lover's body and felt the king's seed splash between their stomachs. He held Thranduil tightly, clasping the king to his chest as his heart decreased in rhythm. He felt his Sinda's hands stroking his hair softly, gently. "This is what it feels like," he murmured against Thranduil's shoulder.

"What?" the king asked in a weary, far away whisper.

"This is what it feels like to be loved."

Thranduil smiled. "Aye, Glorfindel. This is what it feels like."

To be continued...

Chapter 4:

Summary: Thranduil confronts his greatest fear and Erestor remembers what it is to fight.

"Erestor! What are you doing here?" Legolas asked in a whispered voice with a mixture of confusion and happiness.

"I cannot let my lover spend time out here in the dark and cold while I lounge in a warm, dry bed," Erestor answered with a smile. He reached out and tucked a wet strand of hair behind Legolas' ear.

"This is a patrol, it is not a safe place to be..." Legolas began.

"Do not lecture me about the dangers of patrol, my young colt," Erestor interrupted with a grin. "I was felling orcs before your father was a glint in his father's eye."

Legolas laughed and put up his hands in surrender. "My apologies, my lord Erestor."

"Apology accepted." Erestor winked. "Now what are we patrolling for?"

Legolas motioned with his head toward the rise of a low hill. "Come, follow me," he whispered.

Erestor lowered himself into the mud and peered over a fallen tree into the culvert of the Enchanted River. He looked to a small outcropping of bushes pointed out by Legolas; one of the bushes moved.

"Orcs," Legolas whispered. "The westernmost patrol tracked them from the Old Forest Road as far as Emyn-nu-Fuin. My scouts picked them up there and followed them to this place. We think there may be as few as ten..."

"And as many as?" Erestor queried.

"Fifty," Legolas answered. "It has been difficult to keep count of them in the dark and the rain."

"And how many of us are there?"

"Twelve, thirteen counting you."

"Brilliant," Erestor answered sarcastically.

"What is the matter, counselor? You do not like the odds?"

"I would like them better if I knew what they were, and if we could see what we are fighting. I wish Glorfindel were here."

"So little faith, my love," Legolas murmured with a grin. "You have yet to see me at my best." He turned his attention to the far side of the river. "They are moving. Take care not to come in contact with the water or you will sleep for many a day."

Erestor watched his lover move from their hiding place, the prince's words still ringing in his ears. 'My love,' Legolas had called him.

Slowly and silently, they formed a circle around what they believed to be the entirety of the orcs' campsite. Despite the hard rain, Erestor could still hear the occasional chirp of a Nightingale or the bark of a squirrel. Suddenly, the wood grew dead silent. He turned his head slowly and looked at Legolas, who was gazing up into the trees. "Oh no," he whispered, before the night came crashing down upon them.

* * * *

Glorfindel was running barefoot down the corridor toward the entrance to Thranduil's caves. His beloved had left their bed not moments before when the captain of the palace guard had rapped strenuously on the door. Fearing the worst, he quickly dressed and followed his lover-king toward the entrance to the caves. He found Thranduil in the courtyard, his attendants strapping his battle gear to his chest.

"What has happened?" he shouted as he approached at a run.

"One of the patrols has been ambushed by spiders," Thranduil responded, accepting his sword and bow while his steward strapped his quiver to his back. "It is Legolas' patrol," he finished.

The fear in Thranduil's voice was palpable. "I must fetch Erestor, we will join you."

"Erestor is already with him," Thranduil answered. "The gate keeper saw him leave at dawn, just behind the patrol."

"Valar protect them." Glorfindel grabbed a pair of boots from the armory.

"Arm him," Thranduil said to his steward. The steward complied, strapping light chest and shoulder armor onto Glorfindel and handing him a sword. "No horses, it is too wet and dark, and they will draw the spiders. We have to reach them on foot. Luckily they are not too far." He ran from the caves into the darkness with Glorfindel following close behind as the gates shut behind them.

* * * *

Such sounds he had not heard in over an age; even then, there had not been the ear-splitting shriek of these loathsome monsters. The foul beasts devoured orc and elf alike; they showed no mercy or preference. Erestor spun, his sword cutting a wide arc, removing the heads of two orcs before he stopped and jabbed blindly upward at the shadow that dropped from above. A shriek caused him to cry out in pain as it pierced his ears, and then he heard the popping sound of the spider's gut being split. He was driven onto the ground, trapped between the slime-blackened mud and the writhing carcass of the spider in its death throes. Beyond the screaming of the beast, he heard Legolas' voice calling out to him, then the spider was lifted and he was pulled out from beneath it. He gasped for air, having nearly been both crushed and drowned in black muck, then grasped Legolas' arm and pulled him to the side, near the bole of a large tree.

A small male dropped down in front of them where Legolas had stood but a moment ago, and it struck out with its front legs, the razor sharp talons striking the tree above their heads and sending bark flying. Suddenly, the beast screamed in pain as four arrows pierced its hide and it reared up on its back legs, giving Legolas the opportunity he needed. The prince nocked two arrows and sent them both hurtling in the monster's direction, striking the beast just below its mouth. It howled in pain, its black blood spraying forth, then collapsed onto its belly and shuddered. Erestor stared in disbelief at what he saw in front of him. Twin sets of stormy gray eyes regarded him before their fury was redirected at that which they had been hunting.

Quickly, Erestor and Legolas joined the fray. One more spider was left, a large and angry female. Legolas' archers were firing at it from the cover of the trees as the rest of his contingent, with the aid of the Sons of Elrond and Erestor, fought back the orcs. Legolas fired an arrow and sent it home, striking the spider between the eyes, felling it on the spot. He heard his father's war cry and turned toward it when everything went black.

* * * *

Erestor snarled in pain, falling to his knees as an orc's scimitar tore open his side. That same beast howled as elvish steel drove through its chest, and Elladan growled in anger.

"Erestor!" Glorfindel cried, splitting the skull of a large orc before moving to assist his friend.

Erestor could not breathe, each ragged breath sent fire tearing through his side and he could taste blood on his tongue. "Legolas," he whispered hoarsely, and he reached out into the darkness toward the vision he saw. His beloved's limp form was hauled up out of the mud by one of the largest orcs he had ever seen. The beast held his prince by the back of his collar, like no more than a soiled garment plucked from the laundry. Legolas' beautiful face was marred with grime and black blood, the color of his hair and garments barely distinguishable under the muck. He glanced up and saw Thranduil, awesome in his fury, disembowel an orc and move on to the next one without so much as a pause, as he fought to get to his son.

Glorfindel howled in pain as his arm twisted and snapped behind him, the orc's foul breath filling his nostrils. Attacked from behind as he fought off one of the larger orcs, the beast had disarmed him and grabbed him by the hair. In the distance, he heard the cries of Elladan and Elrohir as they slaughtered the remaining orcs on the perimeter, and he heard the sound of arrows slicing the air as Legolas' troops assisted them. There were three orcs left in the glade now: the one that held him, the one that held Legolas, and the one with his bow trained on Thranduil. Erestor, the elf he had fought beside for two ages, knelt on his hands and knees in the mud, his sword laying tip down in the river, his blood flowing red onto the ground and the color draining from his flesh. 'Not like this,' Glorfindel thought, 'not here in this dark and bloody place.'

"Put down your bow, elf-king," the orc snarled. "Put it down and choose who will live. We would leave one to tell the tale."

Thranduil glanced from his half-conscious son to his wounded and angry lover.

"Do not listen to them, they will kill us all. Kill them!" Glorfindel shouted, then cried out in pain as the orc twisted his already broken arm.

"I will hunt you until the breath leaves my body," Thranduil growled. "There is no place that you can hide, no place too foul or dark that I will not follow you to in order to have my revenge."

"Choose now, as you did once before, elf-king; only this time, you will not live to regret the choice."

"Nor will any of you live to enjoy the result." A voice came from behind the speaking orc.

Thranduil watched as the orc that held Legolas was pierced from behind with an elvish sword, the point missing Legolas' ear by a hair's breadth. He quickly fired an arrow at the orc who held Glorfindel, as Elrohir removed the head of the creature who had been speaking.

It was over in an instant, though the minutes preceding it had felt like an eternity. He rushed to Glorfindel, who managed to grind out through gritted teeth that he was all right, and then the king turned to his son. Elrohir attended to Erestor, as Elladan examined Legolas.

"A blow to the head, my lord. He will be fine, though his head is apt to feel like a ball that has been kicked around the play yard," Elladan said softly. He then rose to attend to Glorfindel. "Ai, my lord, how many times have I set this same arm?" Elladan chided in a good-natured manner. "Can it be that you grow slow in your old age?"

"Never mind me," Glorfindel answered with a clenched jaw. "Help your brother with Erestor."

Elladan smiled. "As you wish, seneschal." He turned his attention to their tutor. "How is he, brother?"

Elrohir looked up at his twin. "He will be abed many a day, but he will live to chastise us still."

"We need to leave, now," Thranduil spoke quietly as he held Legolas' semi-conscious form in his arms. "More may yet come."

"We dispatched those who would have sent word, though where there is one orc, there tend to be many," Elrohir agreed. "Erestor can be moved now."

"My sword," Erestor groaned. "Do not leave it behind."

"I will fetch it," Elrohir answered.

"Do not touch the water, nor that part of the sword that lies in it," Thranduil warned.

Elrohir smiled. "We are acquainted with these woods, my lord."

Thranduil smiled wearily and nodded.

Elladan secured Glorfindel's arm in a sling. "Glorfindel can be moved now as well."

Thranduil motioned to his captain to take the point, and the party proceeded toward the caves.

* * * *

Glorfindel drank down the healing draught that Elladan provided to ease his pain and he nodded in thanks to his one-time student. "I am thankful that you paid attention to your father's arts as well as my own," he said softly.

"You will heal in time," Elladan answered. "Be thankful you are not Secondborn, or that arm would no longer be useful."

"How came you and your brother to be in Mirkwood?" Glorfindel asked as he settled back against the pillows.

"How came you to be in the king's bed?" Elladan teased. He chuckled at the chastising glance his tutor gave him and answered, "We were tracking those orcs that attacked you. We followed them from outside the borders of Lórien."

The door opened and Thranduil entered his bedchamber, still wet and bloodied from the battle. "I trust you have taken good care of Glorfindel?" he asked wearily.

"Aye, my lord. He is bathed, the arm is set and he is resting comfortably," Elladan answered. "How fares Legolas?"

"He will be well in a short time; right now he watches over Erestor, despite the counselor's protestations."

Elladan laughed softly. "I wonder who is the more stubborn, Legolas or Erestor?"

"Legolas, I wager," Thranduil answered.

"Especially if he takes after his father," Glorfindel answered with a smile before stifling a yawn.

Thranduil smiled wearily. "I see the tonic is taking effect; you shall soon be in the land of dreams, my love."

Elladan's eyebrow quirked momentarily at hearing the endearment, then he gathered his healing herbs. "Shall I attend to you, my lord?" he asked softly.

"Nay," Thranduil answered. "Most of this blood is not mine. I have but a few scratches; nothing a bath will not cure." He placed a hand upon Elladan's arm. "Thank you, for saving my son's life."

"It was my honor," Elladan answered, then he smiled. "I will leave you to Glorfindel then. Rest well, my lords." He exited the king's bedchamber with a sly grin upon his lips.

"I am going to bathe, then I will join you," Thranduil said quietly. Glorfindel nodded sleepily and smiled at his lover, watching him enter the bathing chamber.

* * * *

Thranduil sank into the warm water, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes and tried to forget what had just happened, and he tried not to imagine what could have happened had the twins not been there. That had to be the same orc, the same monster that had ripped his wife's still beating heart from her chest before throwing her body to the ground and escaping, leaving him alone with a hysterical son and a dead mate. He thanked the Valar that his senior healer had the capacity to take that memory away from Legolas; no child should have to endure such a horror. Yet, he refused the same treatment, and he had vowed to take off the head of the murderous beast himself. Only duty had stayed his lust for revenge, that and the wise counsel of Legolas' nursemaid that losing one parent was dreadful enough for a child.

He closed his eyes and tried to push away the hatred that welled in his heart for those foul beasts of the Dark Lord's creation. He could not let it overtake him, or all would be lost.

Rising from the warm water, he wearily dried himself with a thick cloth then strode nude into his bedchamber. He carefully slipped beneath the covers, pressing against Glorfindel's uninjured side, and lay awake as he listened to the sound of his lover's breathing.

* * * *

Erestor stroked Legolas' hair, breathing in the scent of heather that came from Legolas' still damp locks. "How are you feeling, my love?" he whispered.

"I am alive, and that is something to be grateful for, though my head feels like a bruised melon. What of you, lover? Are you in much pain?"

Erestor sighed deeply and stifled a yawn. "Not much; Masters Elladan and Elrohir practice their father's healing arts well."

"Sleep, Erestor; I will be here when you wake," Legolas murmured.

Erestor smiled. Legolas' protective nature really was quite endearing. He pressed a kiss to the top of Legolas' head, then closed his eyes for a much needed rest.

To be continued...

Chapter 5:

Summary: The twins heal each other's aches and muse on the current state of affairs in Mirkwood when they are interrupted.

Elrohir emerged from the water, shaking his head and sending droplets spraying across the bath. Elladan closed his eyes and grinned, leaning his head back against the side of the pool.

"Nothing feels quite as good as a long, hot bath after a month in the wilds," the elder twin murmured.

"Aye, I am in agreement with you on that count, brother," Elrohir answered. "Though I can think of one thing that might rival it."

Elladan opened one eye. "And what would that be?"

Elrohir grinned mischievously. "Oh, I think you know. I am glad we have adjoining rooms again, just as we did the last time we were here."

"'Tis unfortunate that our princeling will not be joining us this eve. It appears his affections have been stolen away by our tutor."

Elrohir sank down into the water so that just his neck and head were exposed. "Aye. Who would have thought it? Erestor and our golden prince..."

"An odd couple to say the least," Elladan replied. "I shall miss Legolas' wicked touch and teasing looks."

Elrohir rose and crossed to Elladan, then settled himself in his twin's lap. "He learned from the best, I dare say."

"Brother, you flatter me," Elladan purred.

"'Tis not flattery, 'tis an honest account. The night you inducted our prince into the ways of pleasure is one I shall not forget."

"His wide blue eyes and trembling body," Elladan murmured as his hands caressed his twin's hips.

"His soft shuddering moans and those sighs..." Elrohir recounted as he nuzzled his twin's neck.

"He was much like you were, the first time," Elladan answered as he pulled Elrohir closer.

Elrohir grinned. "Yes, but you were far more masterful with him, seeing as you had years uncounted to practice on me."

Elladan chuckled. "Elrohir, you slight me."

"Nay, brother," Elrohir murmured against his twin's throat, "I love you, as much now as I always have."

They heard the door to the baths open slowly. Elrohir sat back and looked into Elladan's eyes. "It seems we will once again fan the flames of scandal in Mirkwood."

Elladan smiled. "One would think that these elves would be accustomed to our unorthodox relationship."

They turned matching grey eyes toward the door and found one of Mirkwood's young courtesans standing in the doorway, his robe loosely wrapped around his waist.

"Begging your pardon, my lords," the young elf said softly. "I did not realize that you..."

"No need to beg, young one," Elladan replied smoothly as he extended a hand. "Elrohir and I are always open to a third."

A slow smile began to curve the courtesan's lips. "As you wish, my lords. I am at your service." He dropped his robe and entered the water.

"Like a lamb to the slaughter," Elrohir murmured huskily into Elladan's ear.

"Indeed," Elladan returned as the young elf took his hand. "Your name, lovely one?" he murmured as the young courtesan slid closer.

"Celebrus," the elf replied.

"Beautiful and crafty," Elrohir purred as he tucked a wisp of silver hair behind the courtesan's ear.

Celebrus smiled. "I was named for my watcher," he replied.

"You were watched over by a silver fox?" Elladan queried as his hand slid to the curve of the courtesan's back.

"Aye, she lost her cubs to spiders and adopted me, or so my parents told me. She lived near our flet and watched over me while my mother washed our clothes in the river and picked vegetables for our meals."

"The beasts of Eru's creation are often wiser than we are," Elrohir replied with a smile. "This fox obviously saw that you were meant for important things."

"I am but a servant to my lord king, and no more," Celebrus murmured as he was pulled into the twins' embrace.

"Aaahh, but what you do is important, my lovely one," Elladan whispered. "Nothing heals a battered body more than a touch such as yours."

"And we have spent the better part of a month sleeping on the cold, hard ground when we were not felling orcs," Elrohir added.

"Then my task is great," Celebrus murmured as he leaned in, flicking his tongue against the corner of Elladan's mouth.

Elladan smiled wickedly, "That is one way of putting it." He placed his hand upon the back of the courtesan's neck and took his mouth in a deep kiss.

Elrohir leaned in, swirling his tongue around Celebrus' ear while his brother plundered the courtesan's mouth. His hand slid down his twin's stomach and found his arousal, giving a playful stroke. Elladan growled low in his throat as he continued to drink from the young one's mouth, and Elrohir began to knead Celebrus' buttocks with his free hand.

Celebrus gasped as Elladan released his mouth, and gazed into eyes that were the color of a storm-filled sky. He traced the peredhel's full lips with the tip of his finger. "You have the most delicious lips, my lord," he whispered.

"If you think so, then you should surely try my brother's, for I have heard tell that they are even sweeter than my own."

Celebrus turned and looked at Elrohir. It was impossible to tell the two apart; he wondered if they would taste and feel different. He tilted his head as the other peredhel leaned in and devoured his mouth; a plaintive moan escaped him as he felt Elladan's hand cup his groin. "You two will be my demise," he whispered as Elrohir released his mouth.

"Perhaps, but it is a lovely way to die. Do you not think so?" Elrohir asked huskily.

"Aye, most lovely," Celebrus answered. He allowed Elrohir to pull him into Elladan's lap, placing him between their identical bodies.

"What I would most like from you is for you to allow my brother to take you while I hold you here," Elladan murmured. "Is this to your liking?"

Celebrus grasped Elladan's shoulders and looked into his eyes as the oiled fingers of the other twin entered his body. "And what of your pleasure?" he managed to ask as his eyelids fluttered closed.

"My brother will see to that as well," Elladan answered, then drew Celebrus' mouth back to his own.

"I will give you what you ask of me," Celebrus answered softly, arching back against Elrohir's hand as Elladan released his mouth. He cried out as the peredhel found his mark and he felt his own arousal twitch against his stomach.

"And if you have anything left to give, I would have you ridden by my brother while I see to your completion," Elrohir purred into Celebrus' ear.

Celebrus reached behind his head, cupping the back of Elrohir's neck and turned to meet the twin's mouth. "As you wish, my lord," he whispered.

Elrohir kissed him deeply again as he slid inside the courtesan's body. Celebrus was made nearly weightless by the water, the warmth of the swirling, mineral rich current causing his body to be as pliable as clay. He leaned back against Elrohir as the peredhel buried himself deeply, offering no resistance to the substantial length that breached him.

"Gods, yes," Elrohir moaned. "He feels so good, brother."

"And he is beautiful as well," Elladan purred as he caressed Celebrus' face with a wet hand. "I would expect no less from one hand picked by Thranduil."

Elrohir thrust slowly and deeply, taking both Celebrus' and Elladan's arousals in his hands and stroking them in time to his motions. Celebrus moaned deeply, lost in the twins' heady scent and strong bodies, rocking back onto Elrohir's length before thrusting forward into his grip. Their moans filled the baths, echoing off the stone walls and mingling with the splashing and gurgling noises of the water. Celebrus was first to reach completion, crying out as Elrohir pummeled the sweet spot inside him relentlessly. Elladan gritted his teeth, bringing his own release to heel as he dug his fingers into Elrohir's hips. Elrohir released both Celebrus' and Elladan's lengths as he rode out his desire, burying his face in Celebrus' silver locks as he groaned and spilled inside him.

The three stayed motionless for a few moments. Elrohir's length twitched inside Celebrus, as the last drops of his seed leaked forth. He held the courtesan gently, caressing his chest and stomach and whispering words of appreciation into his ear. Celebrus moaned softly, a smile curving his sweet lips as he leaned back into Elrohir's embrace.

"As touching as this is to witness," Elladan purred. "There is still the matter of my own pleasure to be had, if our friend is still willing and able."

Celebrus opened his eyes and gazed directly into Elladan's own. "I was, as you said, handpicked by my lord king, and I was trained by him in the ways of lovemaking. I doubt there is little that I am not able to do," he remarked teasingly.

Elladan smiled broadly. "Excellent."

Celebrus closed his eyes as Elrohir slipped from him, then rose to his knees and allowed the younger peredhel to lift him from Elladan's lap. He smiled as Elrohir wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled his neck.

"Are you sure, young one, that you are up for another ride?" Elrohir purred into his ear.

"Quite sure," Celebrus responded, turning in Elrohir's arms and wrapping his arms around the elf lord's neck. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Elladan had moved; the peredhel was now balanced on the smooth stone ledge of the pool, out of the water. The elder twin patted his lap and Celebrus laughed softly as Elrohir lifted him so that he stood with his back to Elladan, on the stone bench where they had just made love.

"Easy now, my lovely," Elladan purred as he guided Celebrus' hips down. "I would not cause you undue injury."

Elladan clenched his jaw as the courtesan impaled himself on his still turgid and aching arousal. The snug heat that enveloped him nearly caused him to spend on the spot. "Valar, you are right, brother," he whispered huskily. "He does feel quite good."

Elrohir knelt on the bench beneath the water, his hands caressing Celebrus' thighs and guiding them open. "I fear the elite of Mirkwood will rue our coming, for they will be deprived of this young beauty's talents for the duration of our stay."

Celebrus moaned deeply as Elladan began rocking upward inside him. He reached behind him and placed his hands behind Elladan's neck, inclining his head to give the peredhel better access to his ear. Elladan was more than happy to comply with the silent request, curling his tongue around the sensitive point of the courtesan's ear. A gasp escaped Celebrus as Elrohir's full and soft lips latched on to one of his pebbled nipples, suckling it until it was swollen and hot with blood. He spread his legs wider, placing his feet on the edge of the pool so that he could move more easily upon the elf lord's lap.

"Ah yes, that is it, my fox," Elladan purred, and he thrust deeper, striking his mark.

Celebrus cried out and Elrohir grasped the insides of his thighs, steadying him. The courtesan moaned wantonly as his reawakened arousal was engulfed by Elrohir's mouth. Trapped between them, held by their strong hands, he rocked forward into Elrohir's mouth before sinking back onto Elladan's substantial length. He heard Elladan murmur, "Yes, brother, more," and he groaned as his arousal slid into the back of Elrohir's throat. He looked down, his lap was covered in a mass of sable hair, one of Elladan's hands was fisting it almost painfully. He could feel his release coming, threatening to explode forth from his body.

Elladan clenched his jaw as he tried to stave off his impending fall as he leaned back, and he cursed loudly as Elrohir's fingers entered him and immediately found their mark without preamble. His essence burst forth as Celebrus cried out his own release, and he had to brace his hands behind him to keep them all from toppling backward in a heap.

"Sweet Elbereth," Celebrus murmured as Elrohir licked him clean and Elladan's length twitched inside his body. "My prince told no lies about the two of you."

Elrohir chuckled and kissed his way up the courtesan's flat stomach. "Nor did he err in recommending you to us."

Elladan leaned his head back and laughed aloud. "Well, we are a wicked three, shameless in every regard."

Celebrus leaned back against Elladan's chest, despite the elf lord's grumbling protest and trembling arms. "Well matched, if I might be so bold."

Elrohir rose to his feet and leaned over the two. "You might, my fox, you most certainly might."

To be continued...

Chapter 6:

Summary: Healing begins.

Thranduil awoke with a start, his heart pounding ferociously in his chest. The vision of his wife's death was still fresh in his memory, and on nights like this one, it haunted his dreams. He looked to Glorfindel, who, drugged by the pain tonic, slept soundly. His broken arm was strapped tightly to his chest and his golden hair was spread out upon the pillow. Thranduil lay back down slowly, curling closer to his lover, his hand coming to rest softly over Glorfindel's heart.

He could never again sleep the sleep of the innocent; he had seen too much, lost too much in his life to live a naïve existence. He knew what orcs did to those whom they captured; there were precious few who could understand this. Glorfindel and Erestor were among those who could, having witnessed Celebrimbor's defilement.

He pressed a kiss to Glorfindel's chest and heard his beloved mumble softly in his sleep, and then he gazed wearily into the dark as the hours until dawn slowly passed.

* * * *

Legolas awoke and furrowed his brow. His head still ached, though not as much as the night before. He moaned and shifted in his half-sleeping, half-waking state and snuggled closer to Erestor. He really did not remember what happened after he was struck on the head. One minute he was fighting for his life and the lives of his soldiers and lover, and the next, he was in his bed, lying beside a wounded Erestor. He was grateful that he had not seen what had happened to Erestor; seeing his beloved wounded was more than he thought he could take. He was thankful then that Erestor held the position he did, and that his beloved's life was not at risk on a regular basis. He finally understood his father's reluctance to allow him to be a warrior; loving someone brought with it a whole other realm of responsibility.

He softly caressed his lover's chest, fingers tracing over the bandages that encircled Erestor's torso. He wondered how bad the wound was; if it were life threatening, surely Erestor would still be in the healer's chambers. The door opened quietly and he looked up to see Elladan enter. Smiling, he raised himself up on his elbow but was unable to conceal the grimace that clouded his features.

"Your head still aches, my prince?" Elladan whispered as he approached the bed carrying a tray with a steaming pot and two cups.

"Aye," Legolas answered quietly as he slowly shifted into a sitting position. "Though not as badly as last night."

Elladan set the tray on a table beside the bed and then sat on the edge of the mattress next to Legolas. He reached out and caressed the prince's cheek, the blush and gentle smile that colored the Sinda's face brought a wide smile of his own to his lips. "Let me see if I can heal what ails you, my fawn."

Legolas blushed brighter red. He had not seen Elladan or Elrohir for many a year, and the last time they were together had been one of the most decadent and sensual nights he had spent in his life. That was, until he met Erestor.

Elladan grinned as he poured some tea for Legolas. "I see that endearment still makes you blush, my prince."

"The last time you called me that, the circumstances were quite different than they are now," Legolas answered softly.

"Aye, your choice of bedmates has become quite ambitious."

Legolas frowned. "You are not making light of my affection for Erestor, are you?"

"Nay, Greenleaf. I am merely surprised by it, that is all," Elladan answered. "Erestor does not mingle work and pleasure lightly, so he must have wanted you badly to risk Thranduil's ire by bedding you."

Legolas glowered at Elladan. "I do not like your tone, nor do I like what you imply, Elladan. I am grown, and what I do with my time is my concern, not my father's. Secondly, I care deeply for Erestor, and he cares for me. This is no light-hearted dalliance, such as I have had with you and Elrohir."

Elladan put up his hands. "Forgive me, my liege. I meant no insult, nor did I mean to question your intentions or devotion to our tutor."

"Indeed, I should hope not, for I am more than old enough to take care of myself, young master."

Legolas and Elladan looked at Erestor in shock. Neither had noticed that the counselor was awake.

"And despite your age, and my present state, I am still your elder and I insist you stop meddling in my personal affairs or I will have to take you over my knee, just as I have done before."

"My apologies, Master Erestor," Elladan murmured with a bowed head.

"One more thing, the next time you refer to me as 'your tutor', I will have cause to give you a thorough thrashing, with or without the help of Glorfindel."

"Of course, you are right, Master Erestor. You are a valued and high-ranking member of our household. You are more than just a tutor," Elladan capitulated.

"Now run along and seek mischief elsewhere. My beloved is forbidden territory to you and your brother from this day forward." Erestor struggled to sit up as Legolas propped pillows behind his back.

"Yes, my lord. See that he drinks his tea, if you would be so kind, Legolas," Elladan said softly as he quickly departed the room, a smile curving his features as he closed the door behind him.

Legolas smiled broadly at Erestor. "Now I see why they said they were always so intimidated by you when they were younger. What a stern taskmaster you are."

"Ai... both Glorfindel and their father indulge them too much, and this is the price. They have become hellions."

Legolas snickered. "Aye, they are quite wicked when they set their mind to it."

"Thank the Valar that Arwen is different. She has her mother's elegance and her grandmother's wisdom, unlike those two brigands."

Legolas slid close and handed Erestor his tea. "My father once thought that Arwen and I would make a good match... that was until he found me kissing one of my fellow warriors-in-training."

Erestor grinned and snorted. "That must have been quite awkward for both of you."

"Imagine how poor Beleg felt? He completely lost his capacity for speech and turned the most becoming shade of pink."

"Beleg? Your father's captain?"

Legolas nodded and grinned. "Aye, one and the same. I suppose my father figured making him one of the palace guard, thereby keeping him under a watchful eye, was easier than having us followed."

Erestor laughed aloud. "As different as our realms are, they are so much the same. I shudder to think how many young soldiers Glorfindel has reassigned, or how many chambermaids I have moved about because of those two, all at Elrond's request."

Legolas drank half of his tea and set the mug down upon the bedside table. He then carefully snuggled close to Erestor, resting his head upon the counselor's shoulder. "Mmm... I loved hearing you call me your beloved, and I loved how possessive you became of me."

Erestor downed his tea and placed his mug on the table next to his side of the bed. "You are a shameless flirt, Legolas Thranduilion."

Legolas chuckled. "I cannot help myself, I am enamored of you, Master Erestor."

"Enamored, indeed."

Legolas sat up and caressed Erestor's face as he gazed into his eyes. "Truthfully, I care for you very much, Erestor. I loathe the thought of you leaving to return to Imladris."

Erestor drew the prince to his lips. "I loathe that thought too," he murmured, before pressing a long, deep kiss to Legolas' lips. "Valar help me, I could be content to kiss these lips for eternity."

"Then do so," Legolas whispered, before kissing Erestor again.

* * * *

"What plagues you, my love?" Glorfindel asked as Elrohir removed the splints to examine his arm.

Thranduil stood close by, watching the peredhel attend to his lover.

"Aye, my lord. I can sense tension coming from you. I would help relieve it if I can," Elrohir added, as he slowly and carefully examined Glorfindel's arm.

"I am fine," Thranduil replied.

Glorfindel furrowed his brow. "You are most certainly not fine. I can see the tension in your body from here."

Elrohir placed Glorfindel's hand back in his lap and turned to Thranduil. "It is the attack, is it not? It was too like the one in which you lost your wife."

"I did not lose my wife, Elrohir. She was murdered, in front of my son and me. You make it sound like I simply misplaced her."

"My apologies, my lord. I did not mean to make light of it."

"And yes, you are correct. This attack was far too much like that one, and that is no coincidence. 'Tis no matter now, the one responsible is dead, you saw to that. And for that, I owe you my eternal gratitude."

Elrohir recognized the look of one who was unwilling to unburden himself, and abandoned the subject, returning his attention to Glorfindel. "This is nicely healed. We can remove the splints, but I want you to keep it bandaged and refrain from putting any stress on it."

"May I leave the bed now? As much as I needed a rest, a week is nearly past my bearing."

Elrohir smiled. "Aye, you are released from bed rest. However, I am quite serious, no training, no swordplay, no riding of horses, no lifting of anything, or you will find yourself right back here. The bones have knitted, but they need more time before they are fully repaired."

"Yes, Master Elrohir," Glorfindel replied with a grin.

"I will take my leave now and see if the healer needs my assistance." Elrohir smiled and bowed his head to Thranduil.

"My thanks, Elrohir," Thranduil said quietly as the peredhel departed.

Glorfindel watched Thranduil return to his desk and begin sifting through maps. "Take a walk with me, my love. We have both been practically confined in this room for a week."

"It is raining again," Thranduil answered distractedly.

"Then walk with me through the caves."

Thranduil looked up at Glorfindel, who was already looking through the armoire to find a suitable garment. "Very well, but not too long. You must return to activity slowly."

Glorfindel laughed. "By the Valar, Thranduil. You would think I had never been injured before. This is far from the worst wound I have ever received, my love."

Thranduil smiled in spite of himself. "Perhaps, but it is the only one I have witnessed." He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his beloved, nuzzling his neck. "Are you sure you want to take a walk? We could just return to the bed..."

Glorfindel smiled as he leaned into his lover's embrace. "Or we could walk, then go to bed."

"Whatever you wish," Thranduil murmured.

To be continued...

Chapter 7:

Summary: Lovers find pleasure at dawn.

Celebrus lay atop the dark, silken bedding, his pale skin seeming to glow in contrast to the deep, rich hue of green. Elrohir lay to the courtesan's right, his hand traveling the length of Celebrus' side, over the curve of his hip, and along the outside of the Silvan's thigh. Elladan lay to Celebrus' left, caressing the courtesan's chest and abdomen with the back of his hand; his lips slowly ghosted over the Silvan's forehead, following the line of his pale, silvery hair.

Celebrus' eyes were closed, his lips parted as his body hummed with pleasure. He had never been touched like this before; some sort of energy flowed from the twins' hands into his body, causing the fine, almost invisible down-like hair on his skin to raise and tingle and his flesh to warm beneath their touch. Long sighs were punctuated by quiet, soft moans as his desire began to awaken in the early dawn hours. The twins were insatiable when it came to partaking of his talents, and the past two weeks could have been exhausting were it not for this healing touch they possessed.

"This is better than miruvor," Celebrus whispered, the most satisfied of smiles curving his lips.

Elladan replied, "I am most glad you think so."

Elrohir smiled as he pressed closer, his burgeoning arousal finding its way into the cleft of Celebrus' backside. "Aye, to better our father's famous tonic is quite a compliment."

Celebrus chuckled softly and arched back against Elrohir. This was how it often started; the younger of the twins would take him first, then Elladan would take him, bringing his satiated body to full arousal before sending him over the edge once more. That the twins would often hold him close between them after they had partaken of his talents made his efforts well worth it; in their arms he would sleep like the dead and dream wonderful dreams. He could feel his flesh warming and tingling from their touch; his arousal was swelling and beginning to pulsate between his legs.

"Have you ever been to Imladris?" Elrohir asked with a soft whisper into Celebrus' ear.

"Nay. I have never left the Great Wood; all that I need is here," Celebrus replied.

"Never?" Elladan queried.

"Never. I have no need to leave, my lord provides me with all that I desire. I have a wonderful life here."

"There is need, but then there is also desire," Elrohir whispered huskily. "Do you not desire to see other lands, to know what the world is like outside Mirkwood?"

"I would not leave my lord," Celebrus answered as his heart began to beat more rapidly and he undulated between the twins' bodies.

Elladan placed his fingers underneath Celebrus' chin and tilted the elf's chin so that their eyes met. He watched Celebrus' lids slowly open and gazed into the dark, silvery depths of the Silvan's eyes. "You are loyal, that is an admirable trait. You love him, yes?"

"Aye, as any good servant loves their master," Celebrus answered with a soft whisper.

"Is that what you are? A servant?" Elladan asked.

"I am free to choose whatever path I wish to take, free to choose to come or go as it suits me."

"Are you free to refuse his call?" Elladan gazed deeply into Celebrus' eyes, trying to discern the true nature of the courtesan's feelings for the king.

"Aye, but I would not."

"Even if he called you this moment?"

"Even if he called me now."

"How often do you lie with him?" Elrohir whispered into Celebrus' ear, slowly rocking his hips as his hand glided over the Silvan's flank and came to rest upon his lower abdomen.

Celebrus' eyelids fluttered and he began to close them when he felt the press of Elladan's fingers under his chin once more. He answered softly, "Thrice a week, sometimes more, until..."

A smile curved Elladan's generous lips. "Until Glorfindel came."

"Aye, until Lord Glorfindel arrived; he has not called for me since." Celebrus eyelids slid closed as Elrohir's hand began gently kneading his abdomen, the elf-knight's fingers playing in the fine dusting of hair that grew around his now turgid arousal.

"And Legolas?" Elrohir purred.

"Twice a week, when he is home from patrol. He would always call for me when he returned home; he liked for me to bathe him."

"So your talents are reserved for the king and the prince exclusively." Elladan remarked.

"Aye, and whomever I may choose of my own volition."

"Then we are most fortunate," Elrohir murmured with a lick to the curve of Celebrus' ear. "We have had exclusive possession of the royal family's prized courtesan."

"Please do not speak of me as if I were chattel," Celebrus whispered. "I know that those who live outside our realm do not understand the way we live, but..."

"Forgive me, dear one," Elrohir murmured into Celebrus' ear. "I did not mean to imply such a thing. We are honored that you would choose us."

"I love them, I serve them in the best way I know how," Celebrus answered softly.

"And they value your service," Elladan responded. "Legolas spoke of your beauty to us, and of your gentle touch. He said you would sing to him from time to time, and it would lull him to sleep and lead him into the land of dreams."

"They have been good to me," Celebrus whispered. "They protect me and care for me; they see that I have everything I need or desire and have done so since..." his voice trailed off.

"Since what, dear one?" Elladan whispered.

"Since my family was taken from me."

"When did this happen?" Elrohir asked as he rested his head upon Celebrus' own.

"When I was around fifteen years of age. It was the king who led the charge to fight off our attackers, it was he who saved me from death. When I was brought into the caves, Legolas was there, waiting for his father. He had lost his own mother not long before I lost my parents. He did not say a word when my lord set me down upon the ground, he only took my hand and led me back to his room. He bathed me and gave me one of his sleeping garments, then he took me into his bed and held me while I cried. I slept beside him every night for two months, then my lord had chambers prepared for me that were adjacent to their own. I have lived in those rooms ever since."

Elrohir smiled sadly at Elladan. "Elladan and I have always known that Legolas had a good heart and a kind soul. Your story proves that to us."

Celebrus reached behind him and clasped Elrohir closer as he reached out with his other hand and pulled Elladan in. "Those days are behind me now, I would prefer to live in the present."

"As you wish, my fox," Elladan murmured, then he kissed Celebrus deeply.

* * * *

Erestor awoke to a long, deep throbbing sensation in his core; his arousal stood hard against his belly and his nipples were erect and aching. His breath came rapidly as the dream slipped away, and he refocused his eyes and gazed into the dark. Legolas was curled around his back, his lover's long, archer's fingers resting languidly against his stomach. His beloved's lips gently pressed against his shoulder blade, and Erestor could hear the soft sound of the prince's breathing in the dark.

Since they had come together the night of The Hunt, Legolas had been entirely submissive, allowing Erestor to do whatever he wished, whenever he wished. While Erestor was most often comfortable in this role, the dream that had awoken him told him that he wished for something different, at least on a subconscious level. He dreamed of the night of The Hunt, of the delicious thrill of Legolas taking him. While at that point the prince was not a stranger, it was not as if they were well acquainted, so there was no bond of trust between them then, only desire. Legolas was a masterful lover, regardless of the role he played, and Erestor wondered if Legolas submitted so readily because it was what the prince wanted, or if he did so because it was what the prince thought Erestor wanted.

Erestor turned his head and tried to glimpse Legolas in his sleep. His lover's hair obscured his face, but Erestor could tell by the rhythm of Legolas' breathing that he was deep in reverie. He had not yet adjusted to being underground, but he sensed it was some time before dawn. His injury had nearly healed and Legolas had been very careful during their lovemaking not to allow him to do anything that might strain the healing wound. Now, what he wanted more than anything was to have Legolas ride him with abandon, the way the prince had done their first night together. He wanted to feel possessed by his Sinda prince, utterly and completely debauched and spent.

His desire would not relinquish its hold over his mind; he could not find reverie, not with this persistent, maddening ache in his loins. He arched his back, pressing his bare backside into Legolas' lap and slowly began to rock and swivel his hips. Legolas moaned softly in his sleep, and his hand slipped down Erestor's belly to where it almost touched his rigid length. Erestor took Legolas' hand in his own and placed it upon his aching flesh, a ragged release of breath escaped him upon the touch of his lover's slumbering hand, and it caused the prince to stir.

Legolas woke slowly, his desire rising as his mind struggled to catch up with it. Erestor's backside was grinding against his awakening length and his own hand was loosely wrapped around the counselor's swollen and weeping arousal. "Good morning, my love," he whispered huskily as he took control of the situation.

Erestor moaned almost gratefully, arching more strenuously against Legolas as he released his lover's hand and grasped Legolas' hip instead.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Legolas murmured into Erestor's ear, giving it a slow, sensual lick.

"By the Valar, yes," Erestor breathed. "Please, Legolas, I feel like I'm going to burst."

"Very well, then," Legolas chuckled, then he reached across Erestor's body and fumbled to open the drawer of the bedside table.

"I will get it," Erestor answered, almost impatiently, and Legolas chuckled again.

"So insistent," Legolas murmured, issuing long, slow strokes with his hand, punctuated by a brief squeeze at the weeping tip of Erestor's arousal.

"Give me your hand," Erestor said, almost abruptly. Legolas released his lover's arousal and held out his hand. "No, not that one," Erestor grumbled.

"My other hand is trapped beneath you, lover," Legolas purred. "You will have to be content with this one." He wrapped his leg over Erestor's hip and began to roll his hips forward, his own rigid arousal sliding easily between Erestor's legs.

Erestor groused again, then poured the oil into Legolas' palm. He felt Legolas roll away for a few moments, and the loss of contact and heat seemed almost painful. Then, without preamble, Legolas oiled fingers breached his body and he gasped, arching back into his lover's hand as his arousal jumped and twitched. "Valar, yes," he hissed. Legolas lips caressed the back of his neck; he felt his lover's teeth sink into his shoulder and moaned wantonly.

"Do you know what I would like?" Legolas whispered sultrily.

"What?" Erestor replied.

"For you to bear my mark, permanently."

Erestor's eyes nearly rolled back in his head, he was so lost to Legolas' commanding touch and deep voice. "The tattoo?" he whispered.

"Aye, lover. One to match my own."

Legolas had an intricate marking embedded into the base of his neck that formed a leaf and scrollwork pattern. The leaf was that of a tree that grew only in the Great Wood, and it was a symbol of his name. Many of the warriors of Mirkwood bore a mark of one kind or another. Legolas had somberly told him the marks served a practical purpose as well as a symbolic one. A warrior's tattoo was a sign of their being inducted into the king's service as a warrior, but it also could identify their body should their head be removed. Given the violent nature of their lives, it was a prudent measure that would bring closure to those left behind. Since orcs often took weapons and jewelry, it was more practical than a ring or other signet.

Erestor had found Legolas' tattoo to be a thing of beauty, and gazing upon its dark green hue against his alabaster skin was a sensual delight. "Greenleaf," he whispered.

"Aye, and I will add your name to my own mark," Legolas murmured.

Erestor cried out as Legolas found his mark and simultaneously squeezed the base of his arousal. His heart was hammering in his chest, his body aching deep inside. "Anything, anything you desire," he whispered. He felt the tip of Legolas arousal gently nudge his entrance.

"I love you, Erestor," the prince's deep voice whispered.

"I love you, Legolas Thranduilion," Erestor answered, then he was breached. He cried out and arched against Legolas as he was filled almost to the point beyond bearing. He tugged upon Legolas' hip; it was as if Legolas couldn't be deep enough inside him, close enough to him. Legolas began to move within him, slowly and gently at first, then with increasing vigor. Erestor squirmed against his lover then groaned, "Wait, stop."

Fearing his lover was in pain, Legolas withdrew immediately, his brow furrowed. "Have I hurt you?" he whispered in concern. He watched Erestor rise to his hands and knees.

"No, you silly princeling," Erestor responded with a mixture of impatience and mirth in his voice.

Legolas smiled and rose to his knees, taking a place behind Erestor. "I see," he murmured before he re-entered his lover's body. "You are so demanding."

Erestor arched again, his ebony hair sliding across his back. "Harder, like the first time," he ground out from his tightened jaw.

"Your wish is my demand, counselor," Legolas responded, then he began to ride his beloved's body with abandon.

Each powerful thrust sent Erestor rocking forward, and finally he could take no more, spilling upon the sheets without even so much as the aid of his lover's hand. Legolas continued to ride him, their moans and grunts filing the air of the prince's bedchamber. Erestor spread his legs wider, placing his hands against the head of the bed as Legolas pounded inside him. Already his arousal was reawakening and the delicious, painful throbbing of lust was reborn inside him. Legolas' fingers dug into Erestor's shoulders, pulling him back against him as he thrust forward. Erestor knew he would be sore upon the morrow, but it did not matter to him now. As Legolas' hand closed around his aching length, he moaned wantonly, begging like a slave. His master complied, stroking him to completion, then spilling inside him with a deep growl.

Erestor could feel Legolas' arms trembling against his sides as the prince held his weight off him. His lover's arousal twitched inside his body and his sweet breath came in hoarse waves, fanning over his ear. Erestor's own body was trembling, he was almost cold. Suddenly, for reasons he did not understand, his eyes began to sting with tears and he fought not to weep openly. Fear was what he felt, mingled with deep love and affection. He was not afraid of Legolas, but he was afraid of loving him. However, that fear had come too late, for he knew that he could not live without him.

"My Erestor," Legolas whispered. "My love, my heart."

"I love you," Erestor answered, his voice shaky.

Legolas slipped from his body and lay down beside him, reaching out and gathering him into his arms. Erestor held off the tears that threatened to fall and closed his eyes, seeking the refuge of reverie.

To be continued...

Chapter 8:

Summary: Preparations are made for departure to Imladris.

The rains had passed, leaving wet roads and soggy trails in their wake. The snow was not yet falling, so the mountain passes were still clear, if not challenging to navigate given the wet conditions. Thranduil stood at the entrance to the caves, watching the water lap at the bottom of the bridge. His system of culverts had been tested to their utmost, yet they had contained the surge of water that poured forth from the heavy rains. The elf path would be nearly obscured to even their eyes, and invisible to the eyes of those others who did not know its location.

The time had come, there was no further excuse for delay; Glorfindel, Erestor and the Sons of Elrond would return to the Hidden Valley. Erestor had come for answers and instead had received the love of his son. Thranduil had no doubt that Erestor returned that love in equal measure. His own heart was lost most unexpectedly to Glorfindel, who had promised to love him always and hold no other above him in his heart. He did not know when he would be able to see Glorfindel again; the journey between their realms was growing increasingly risky. Indeed, his own home grew more dangerous by the day; this made it more and more difficult for him to travel. Strong arms encircled his waist and he leaned back into Glorfindel's embrace.

"I do not wish to leave you, you must know this," Glorfindel whispered.

"Aye, I do," Thranduil replied.

"I do not know how I will do it, how I will find the strength to mount my horse and ride away."

Thranduil took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Perhaps it would be best if we were to end this now. You should be free to do as you wish, free to find another whom you can live with and share a life with."

Glorfindel squeezed Thranduil's waist tighter. "Do not be ridiculous, you know that is impossible. I will say this, however, should you grow lonely, should you need to feel another's touch, I would not begrudge you that."

"Nor would I begrudge you the same," Thranduil answered. "But it would never be the same, for no one touches me the way you do."

Glorfindel smiled. "Aye. No one knows you as I do. Nor does anyone know me like you do."

"Not even Erestor?"

"There is no doubt that Erestor knows me well. He knows my mind and my heart, but he does not keep the latter. You keep that."

Thranduil smiled. "As you keep my own. It has been a long time since it had a master."

Glorfindel nuzzled the king's neck. "I will not fail to serve it well, my love."

"So, in the morning then?"

"Aye, in the morning. We need to reach the foot of the mountains by nightfall, so that we may pass over during daylight. The days grow shorter, we will have to make haste."

"That is very near where there have been many orc sightings. Would it not be wiser to travel to the south? I know it will take much longer, but..."

"There are very few safe roads now, my love," Glorfindel interrupted. "There will be four of us this time, and there are few orcs who would brave an attack on the four of us."

"True," Thranduil agreed. "You will have to forgive me if I worry about you."

"That is an easy thing to forgive," Glorfindel murmured into the king's ear. "Mmm... I love you, Thranduil Oropherion."

Thranduil pulled Glorfindel's arms tighter around his waist. "I love you, my Glorfindel."

* * * *

Erestor entered a long room that served as the armory for Mirkwood's forces. It was deserted but for two elves: his lover and the captain of the palace guard. Legolas stood before him, shirtless, his hair unbound and falling loose around his shoulders. A smile curved the prince's perfect lips and he held out his hand to Erestor.

Erestor stepped forward, allowing Legolas to remove his loose shirt. The prince then gathered his hair and clipped it on top of his head, baring his neck and back. Legolas sat in a wide, oaken chair and patted his thigh; Erestor climbed into the chair with his beloved and straddled his lap, placing his hands on the back of the chair next to Legolas' head.

"It will be a little painful," Legolas began.

"I am no stranger to pain," Erestor answered. "I have borne worse."

Legolas smiled and placed his hands upon Erestor's hips. "Just look into my eyes and dream."

"Easily done," Erestor replied with a gentle smile.

The captain unrolled a leather pouch and placed two small pots of ink next to it. He heated the metal tip of his instrument, then dipped it in cool water. Erestor heard the hiss of steam then heard the captain blow upon it. He looked into Legolas' eyes and felt the first stinging press of the needle into his skin. A small gasp escaped him, then he focused on his lover's eyes. Legolas tilted his head, bringing his lips into contact with Erestor's, and the counselor moaned quietly as Legolas' tongue slipped inside his mouth. Erestor struggled to remain still as Legolas' hands caressed his thighs and his lover's tongue perused his mouth. Heat bloomed in his core; he had never experienced anything more erotic than this marking ceremony.

It was all so foreign to him; he had never been one for overt displays of affection in public. Yet here he was, aroused, astride his lover, kissing his lover, while another permanently etched a symbol of the prince's name in his flesh. Their kiss deepened and Erestor could feel Legolas' body respond as his own did. He wanted to move against him, to roll his hips against that hard bulge of desire that pressed into his own. His fingers tightened around the worn wood of the chair and his lover's fingers pressed into his buttocks, causing a small whimper of desire to escape him. They continued to kiss, Erestor immobile, Legolas touching him and inflaming him as his captain marked his beloved.

He felt the soft caress of the captain's breath upon the back of his neck as the elf blew upon the damp ink. "It is done," the captain said. "Would you care to see it?"

Legolas released his mouth and Erestor slowly sat up, turning his lust-darkened eyes to the captain. "Yes," he answered in a deep, soft whisper. The captain picked up two mirrors and handed them to Erestor. Erestor positioned them so that he could view the captain's work. A band of leaves and vines curved across his back below the base of his neck. They were intricately entwined and artfully done with dark green ink, and in the center was one leaf that was greener and larger than the others. It was a replica of the one Legolas bore, a symbol of his beloved's name. Just above that mark was another scroll-like pattern of stars and clouds, done in blue, the colors of Elrond's house, with Erestor's name written in Tengwar script. It was simply beautiful.

Legolas nudged his beloved off his lap. "Let me see," he said softly. Erestor stood and turned so that Legolas could view the captain's work.

"Beautiful," Legolas murmured, placing a kiss upon Erestor's bare shoulder before smiling at his captain. He watched as the captain placed a bandage upon the abraded skin, then Legolas said to Erestor, "Now, sit in the chair."

Erestor complied and watched as the captain pulled his beloved's hair atop his head and pinned it securely. Legolas then sank gracefully into Erestor's lap; the mere touch of his beloved's body sent Erestor's own back into an upward spiral of desire. Legolas leaned forward, placing his hands upon the chair where Erestor's once were, then he closed his eyes and murmured, "Kiss me," as the captain began his work.

By the time the captain had finished and they both surveyed his work, they were impossibly aroused. Legolas bore a band of stars and clouds with Erestor's name etched into his flesh, just below the original mark. Legolas let down Erestor's hair as his lover did the same for him, and he arched into Erestor's arms, murmuring against his lips, "I want you to take me here, in this room."

Erestor's fingers were already unlacing his lover's breeches, and Legolas was performing the same act for him. Erestor looked at the table beside the chair and there was a small bowl of water, towels, and a phial of oil. He looked at Legolas and raised his eyebrow. "Is this a usual part of the ritual?"

Legolas smiled and laughed softly. "Not usually, however, I think he foresaw what we would want."

Legolas gently pushed Erestor back into the chair and straddled him, moaning wantonly as he consumed his lover's mouth. Erestor fumbled for the phial and uncorked it, pouring it into his palm, then working it into his aching arousal before placing his fingers at his lover's entrance. Legolas undulated atop him, his muscles rippling beneath his flushed and taut skin. Erestor slid his fingers inside his lover, his arousal twitching as Legolas moaned wantonly. "By the Valar, I have never loved anyone so much," he whispered. "I have never needed anyone so much."

He saw a tear fall from Legolas' eye as his lover answered, "Nor have I, and I count myself blessed because of it." Erestor groaned as his beloved mounted him and Legolas' body engulfed him. He immediately clasped Legolas to him, burying his face in the prince's neck as Legolas rode his length. "I love you," spilled from his lips repeatedly, it was as if he were unable to say anything else. Legolas' beautiful, musical moans echoed in the chamber, his young, lithe body rising and falling upon his lap, his soft, soft lips caressing his ear.

"I love you so much it hurts sometimes," Legolas whispered. "But it is a pain I could never part with."

Erestor grasped Legolas' shoulders and forced him down, driving deep up inside him as he cried out. His beloved arched his long back, his head fell backward exposing his slender, perfect throat, as Erestor spilled inside him and felt Legolas' seed splash his stomach. He pulled Legolas close, wrapping his arms around the prince's waist and holding him tight. "I swear to Elbereth, you are the most perfect elf that has ever breathed air, and you are mine. What could I have possibly done so right to deserve so rich a gift?"

Legolas nuzzled Erestor's ear and laughed softly. "That is funny, I was thinking the same thing of you."

"Come home with me," Erestor murmured into Legolas' hair. "I cannot leave you behind, I simply cannot."

Legolas stroked Erestor's hair. "Oh that I could, my love."

"Why can you not?" Erestor asked.

"You know the answer to that," Legolas answered. "This is my realm, these are my people. I cannot forsake that."

"Not even for me?"

"Would it not be easier for you to stay? Surely Lord Elrond has other counselors; he is wise, perhaps the wisest of all. Can he not part with you?"

"I see your point, my love," Erestor answered. "What are we to do then?"

"You are the wise one," Legolas answered with a smile. "I was hoping you would tell me."

Erestor squeezed Legolas' waist. "I will think of something, I promise you that."

Legolas squeezed Erestor in return. "I know you will, my love."

To be continued...

Chapter 9:

Summary: The lovers part.

Elladan secured his bedroll to his pack and patted his horse's shoulder affectionately. The mare nickered softly, nudging his elbow before closing her eyes as he rubbed her face. "Soon, my friend," he answered quietly, then turned to see Elrohir saying farewell to their newfound friend, Celebrus. He crossed the short distance to where they stood and said, "Are you sure you will not join us? Imladris is a beautiful place."

Celebrus smiled shyly and nodded. "I am sure it is, my lords, but my place is here."

Elladan nodded in agreement and placed his hands over Celebrus' ears, drawing the Silvan's forehead to his lips. "Farewell then, my fox. I hope we meet again, one day."

"Farewell, and Valar’s speed, Lord Elladan."

"Farewell, dear one," Elrohir murmured. "We will think of you kindly and often."

"Farewell, Lord Elrohir, I will think of both of you often as well."

Elrohir gave the elf a quick squeeze and moved to mount his horse. Elladan's fingertips tickled Celebrus' palm as he released the courtesan's hand, and Celebrus smiled in reply. "Two more excellent Noldor lords there never were," he murmured as he watched them mount their horses, then he clasped his hands behind his back and took his place among the king's court.

Legolas stood with Erestor, their foreheads pressed together, their fingers entwined. Thranduil watched, his own heart aching at the departure of his lover. Glorfindel stood beside him; his beloved reached out and moved his hair behind his shoulder. "Nay, this is unacceptable," the king murmured.

"What, my love?" Glorfindel whispered.

"'Tis bad enough that my heart breaks, I will not stand by while my son suffers."

"He will not leave his post or forsake his duty."

"Perhaps not, but he will obey the command of his king," Thranduil answered. Motioning to his guard, he commanded that Legolas' battle gear be brought forth and that travel goods be supplied for the prince. He then held his chin high as Glorfindel stepped aside, and called to his son. "Legolas, a word."

Legolas took a deep breath and reluctantly released Erestor, turning and walking toward his father. "Yes, Father?"

"You will act as emissary on my behalf in Lord Elrond's court. Lord Erestor has many questions that were not answered, and we may one day be in need of Imladris' assistance."

"But, Father, I cannot leave now, it is too dangerous..."

"Will you disobey my command?"

"Of course not, my lord. But..."

Thranduil placed his hands upon Legolas' shoulders. "Greenleaf, there will always be danger here. Our lives can be cut short at any moment..."

"I know, Father, but..."

"Now is the time to live, Greenleaf. Take what you have found and give it a chance to grow. There will always be time for war; there is precious little time for love."

"Are you sure?" Legolas whispered, tears beginning to brim in his eyes.

Thranduil smiled. "Quite sure, my son." His captain approached with Legolas' battle gear. "I will not have you go unprotected." As the chambermaid approached with a sack he added, "Nor will I have you appear before Lord Elrond in any other manner than that which befits a prince."

Legolas threw his arms around his father's neck. "I love you, Father."

Thranduil smiled and squeezed his son. "And I love you, Greenleaf. Now fetch your horse, the party awaits."

Legolas ran across the courtyard to where the stables were. Erestor approached and knelt before Thranduil, bowing his head. "My lord, I know not what to say to express my profound gratitude."

"Look after my son, Erestor. He is the only family I have."

Glorfindel stepped close. "Not the only family, my love."

Thranduil smiled and leaned his head against Glorfindel's, he then looked down at Erestor. "Rise, Lord Erestor. I will not have the elf who has won my son's heart kneel before me like a commoner."

"I will guard him with my life, my lord."

Thranduil nodded. "Aye, I know you will."

As Legolas entered the courtyard with his horse, Erestor moved to join him, broad smiles curving both of their mouths. Glorfindel stood in front of Thranduil and caressed the king's cheek. "Spring. Upon the first thaw I will cross the mountains and be with you again."

Thranduil nodded. "Spring. 'Tis not such a long time off. Be careful, my love. Watch the road and keep your eyes open, even in sleep."

Glorfindel smiled sadly. "Aye, I will. And you, do not take unnecessary chances, do not engage in battle except upon the utmost length of need."

Thranduil smiled in return. "I promise you that. Now you must go, daylight is waning."

Glorfindel embraced him tightly. "The gods know that I love you, Thranduil Oropherion."

"And I love you, my brave, beautiful Glorfindel." Thranduil took Glorfindel's face in his hands and pressed a long, slow, deep kiss to the warrior's lips. He did not care that this broke with decorum. There were things in life that must always come second to love. Upon releasing his lover's mouth he opened his eyes and murmured, "That kiss will have to last until Spring."

"I will keep it close until then," Glorfindel answered in a whisper. He bestowed one last kiss to his lover's lips then caressed his face, then finally turned and walked to his horse. His feet felt like lead, his legs felt as if they would buckle beneath him as he mounted his horse. He raised his hands and signaled their departure.

The twins rode out first, followed by Erestor and Legolas. The prince waved farewell to his father and Thranduil raised his hand in return. The king then focused his eyes on Glorfindel. Glorfindel's horse rocked back on its hindquarters as the warrior waved farewell to his beloved, then they left the courtyard at a gallop. Thranduil's warriors waved farewell to their prince and their honored guests, and the king turned to enter the caves. Before him stood Celebrus, his loving and loyal subject. He smiled, cupped the Silvan's cheek, then took his hand and they walked into the caves together.

* * * *

Night came as the party found itself at the base of the mountains. Travel had been slow in Mirkwood, due to the heavy rains and thick forest. Once the group reached the open lands of the Anduin Vale, the ground was firmer and the travel faster. They had not paused since they left the forest, and now that the horses were tended to and the camp set, Erestor turned his attention to his beloved.

Legolas smiled as he stepped into Erestor's arms and rested his head upon the counselor's shoulder. "You are his best friend, are you not?" he whispered.

"Aye."

"Then you should go to him. You and I can both imagine how he feels right now. I will warm our bedroll for us."

Erestor pressed a kiss to his beloved's forehead. "How did one so young become so wise?"

"I have had very good teachers," Legolas answered with a smile. He swatted Erestor's backside. "Now go on, before I change my mind and drag you down to the bedroll with me."

Erestor smiled and kissed his beloved once again, then made his way across the campsite to where Glorfindel took up watch. "Will you not rest?" he asked softly.

"I have agreed to take first watch, the twins will take second, and you and Legolas will take third. We cannot afford to rest all at once."

Erestor nodded. He sat down beside his friend and placed his hand upon Glorfindel's thigh. "Are you all right?"

"I am as well as to be expected. I am happy for you, Erestor, and I am glad you have what you have wanted for so long."

Erestor rested his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "And I am happy for you as well, Glorfindel. The king is a good and honorable elf, one can see he loves you very much."

Glorfindel nodded. "It will be a long winter."

"I am sorry, my friend."

Glorfindel sighed. "I know. Now, stop wasting time with me and return to your beloved. You have been given a gift, Erestor, do not squander it."

Erestor patted Glorfindel's thigh and rose to his feet, then returned to Legolas.

Glorfindel turned his eyes toward the sky, gazing upon Eärendil as he shone down upon them. The shadow of an Eagle passed overhead and he smiled. "Keep watch over us," he whispered. Eagles had always been his friends.

* * * *

Anor rose high over their heads, just beginning her descent into the West as they reached the entrance to the Hidden Valley. The twins grinned at one another and raced toward the canyon that loomed in front of them, sending flocks of pheasant aloft, their horses fresh despite the long descent from the mountains. Legolas gazed in awe upon the sight before him. Trees seemed to burn gold, amber and red, with white trunks and long slender branches. The grass was green yet, growing tall and bending in the breeze, creating the illusion of a green sea. Birds of every color and pattern imaginable sang their songs, diving and gliding upon the gentle breeze as they lined their nests for the coming winter. Fox, lynx and wolf bounded through the tall grass as herds of deer kept vigilant watch. He could hear the sound of the Bruinen as it flowed down from the mountains; it was little more than a narrow stream at this point. There was an aura of peace and tranquility here that he had never experienced before.

"No need for vigilance now," Glorfindel said softly as his horse trotted past Erestor and Legolas. "We are in the Hidden Valley and there is no danger here." He smiled and nodded at Erestor. "You know the way home, my friend. See you there." He galloped off, his cloak billowing out behind him.

"I have never seen..." Legolas began, but then words failed him. How did one describe such a sight?

Erestor smiled and reached across, placing his hand upon Legolas' thigh. "Welcome to Imladris, my love."

To be continued...

Chapter 10:

Summary: Legolas is introduced to Imladris and a new way of life, Glorfindel and Thranduil each find their own ways to deal with missing the other.

As they arrived in the courtyard of the Last Homely House, Legolas was dumbstruck with awe. Not only were the lands of Imladris wholly different from his own, but also the House of Elrond was like nothing he had ever seen before in his life. The structure was multi-storied, rising above the ground and the river below them in artful layers of windows and terraces. A winding path led up to the main entrance, where the doors stood wide open and a gentle autumn breeze carried in fresh, clean air from the mountains that lay to the East. Each level of the building contained large windows, many open to catch the breeze, and balconies of all sizes, several populated with curious on-lookers. The whole place exuded an atmosphere of security and openness that he was not acquainted with in his own guarded home.

He slid off his mare's back and continued to look around, his amazed expression slowly evolving into one of excitement and happiness. Erestor took his hand and he looked at his beloved with a broad smile curving his lips. "It is beautiful," Legolas said softly.

Erestor smiled in return. "Yes, it is. Come, I am sure Lord Elrond will have a formal reception planned, and we should bathe and rest for a while. The celebrations in the Hall of Fire have been known to last into the early morning hours."

Legolas shifted his pack upon his shoulder and followed his lover toward the Last Homely House, as stable hands attended to their horses.

* * * *

Erestor opened the door and invited Legolas in; there was no need for pretense, it would be clear soon enough to the denizens of Imladris that Legolas was his lover. While the thought of the gossip that would inevitably ensue made Erestor cringe, he would not conceal the nature of his relationship to his lover; Legolas was far too important to him.

He watched as Legolas set his pack down in a wide chair and looked around. The prince slowly walked around the room, fingertips brushing smooth mahogany wood and fine silken fabrics. Erestor smiled as Legolas opened the doors that led to his private balcony and stood with his elegant hands upon the railing and his head tilted toward the sky. Anor bathed the Sinda in golden light and the smile that curved Legolas' lips caused Erestor's heart to pause briefly in its rhythm. Never had Erestor seen a more beautiful sight than that of his prince in that moment. Legolas' face was the picture of perfect and utter peace, and it was something Erestor had not seen in many a year.

Stepping close behind his beloved, Erestor wrapped his arms around Legolas' waist and leaned his chin upon the prince's shoulder. "You look happy, my love," he said softly.

"I am," Legolas answered. "I cannot describe how this place makes me feel, even though I have only been here a short time. It is as if I can really breathe, as if I have been holding my breath all my life."

"It is a feeling that comes with safety and security, with not needing to be on guard every moment of one's life," Erestor responded.

"What I would not give for my home to be this way, for my people to feel like this, for my father to feel like this," Legolas whispered. His voice had taken on a melancholy tone; it was the tone of one who accepted that they could never really have what they want.

"Come, my love," Erestor murmured. "Let me make love to you in my bed, then we shall rest before we must appear before Lord Elrond."

Legolas nodded and turned in Erestor's arms, placing his hands on the counselor's cheeks and kissing him deeply. Erestor responded to him immediately, swiftly taking control and pulling him close. There was an ache between them always; each yearned for the other even when they were together. Legolas knew with surety that he had found his intended, that Erestor was the elf he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. He merely needed to wait for Erestor to reach the same conclusion.

He allowed Erestor to guide him to the bed and slowly undress him. Erestor always looked at him as if he were a precious jewel to be coveted and protected. His lover's hands gently caressed his skin, fingers gently probing and exploring, always finding new ways to inflame him beyond reason. Legolas remained passive, allowing Erestor to explore and touch at will; it had become their way. As Erestor's hands slowly lowered him to the bed, he whispered, "I love you, Erestor."

"And I love you, my prince," Erestor responded as he removed his leggings and lay down atop his beloved. The touch of Legolas' skin against his own set his heart to racing in his chest. Erestor had lived for ages and taken many lovers, but no one else had ever affected him this way. He made his way down his beloved's torso with his mouth, caressing each curve of lean muscle with his lips. His prince's body undulated beneath him, his chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply, goose flesh rising on his pale flesh. Soft, pleading murmurs floated from his Sinda's lips as he kissed the inside of one long, perfect thigh. "So precious a gift you are," Erestor murmured, "one I will never take for granted."

He took Legolas into his mouth, his hand gently, yet firmly stroking what his mouth did not accommodate. Legolas' moans were intensifying, as was the gentle rocking of his hips. Erestor breathed deeply, taking in his lover's unique musk that was tinged with the smell of fresh cedar and snowfall. Legolas smelled like the mountainous woods where he was born - clean, fresh and alive. He opened his mouth wider, taking more of his lover inside until his jaw began to ache. Legolas began to swell in his mouth as the first salty drops of his release leaked forth. 'Yes, my love,' Erestor thought. 'Give it all to me, I want it all.' A heartbreaking cry erupted from Legolas' lips and the prince's seed filled Erestor's mouth. Erestor drank it all down, savoring every precious drop, then licked his beloved clean.

He crawled up Legolas' sated body like a cat, a feral and possessive smile curving his lips. His lover was beautiful when undone, utterly vulnerable and completely lacking any sort of self-consciousness. Legolas' long limbs lay prone against the dark bedcovering, his head turned to one side, his lips parted softly as his sweet breath flowed between them. His hair was mussed, braids half in and half out, his flesh flushed pink from their exertions.

Erestor could see why the twins had been so attracted to him and so determined to be the ones who first gave him this sort of experience, even at the risk of incurring Thranduil's ire, not to mention their own father's. Legolas was well worth the risk, even if it meant spending a year on point in Mirkwood as a penalty. Yes, had he been younger himself and not so burdened with responsibility and duty, he would have taken that risk regardless of the price to be paid. In the short years that had followed his deflowering, Legolas had been bold and adventurous, Erestor knew this. Yet, his prince retained that vulnerability, that sense of innocence that most young elves had. It was to be the prince's lot in life, he supposed, to learn lessons early and to live life to its fullest.

Erestor pressed the length of his body against his beloved, turning Legolas' head so that they gazed into one another's eyes, his thumb gently rubbing the prince's lips. "Will you do everything so early in life?" he asked quietly.

Legolas smiled. "I have always known that my life may not be as long as others' lives may be. This leads me to want to experience that which I may before my days are done."

Erestor kissed and then gently bit the prince's chin, causing Legolas to arch beneath him. "To know pleasure before your majority day, to know love before your first age has passed..."

Legolas laughed softly. "It was not so much before my majority day, they only preempted it by one month."

Erestor grinned and gently shook his head. "Elladan and Elrohir have never been ones to conform nor bow to the rules of society. I fear they inherited their stubbornness and rebelliousness from their grandmother." Erestor closed his eyes as he felt Legolas move beneath him. "As much as I envy them that experience," he continued, "I am the one who has reaped the benefit. They may have been your first, but I will be your last."

"And will I be your last, Erestor?" Legolas asked softly. "Or will this end one day, leaving me to mourn your absence and finally die a famous and honorable death in battle?"

"Think not such a thing," Erestor said seriously. "Even if I wished to do so, I could never withhold nor take away my love for you. I am lost to you and in truth, I have never been more happy."

Legolas smiled. "Then finish what you have started, my love, for I would see you as fulfilled as I am."

Erestor smiled wolfishly, then consumed Legolas' mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. He rose to his knees and sat on his heels, looking down at his conquest. The Prince of Mirkwood was his beloved; what a strange and wondrous thing this was. A soft touch of his fingers to the inside of his lover's knee was all it took. Legolas opened immediately and with no hesitation. Erestor found the phial of oil he kept by his bed and prepared himself. He slid two fingers into his beloved's body with ease; Legolas offered no resistance. Finding his mark, he watched his lover arch off the bed and cry out in ecstasy; the sight caused his own aching arousal to twitch against his stomach. After a cursory preparation, he entered Legolas, pushing deep inside to be enveloped in tight, decadent heat.

"I love you," he heard his lover's voice whisper into his ear. "I will never love another."

"And I love you," he murmured against Legolas' neck. "It is something I wondered if I would ever hear myself say to another."

Legolas smiled. "I am most glad it is me you have finally said it to."

Erestor smiled and took his beloved's face in his hands. "As am I," he murmured against Legolas' lips. He kissed him deeply and made love to him as Anor sank into the West.

* * * *

Glorfindel stood upon his balcony, gazing upon the Misty Mountains as they glowed orange in the sunset. His mind traveled over those formidable peaks toward a large forest, shrouded in shadow, where life still existed despite all odds being against it. He closed his eyes and saw in his mind majestic caves whose dark walls sparkled as if jewels were embedded in them, where torches and grand hearths glowed, where a beautiful and magical king ruled, the kind of king that he had heard stories of as a youth.

He conjured the vision of Thranduil in his mind's eye, the regal and strong Sinda that had stolen his heart. If he tried, he could smell him still, spicy and exotic. He could feel his body, hard and warm, feel his hair, soft and heavy, feel his lips, wet and silky. His days and nights in Mirkwood would be forever in his mind until he could see his king again. He would have to be satisfied with the memory of Thranduil's touch, of his kiss, of his powerful body moving in concert with his own.

The familiar popping of the copper boiler in his private bath signaled that the water was now warm. He turned and reentered his bedchamber, closing the doors behind him and crossing the room as he removed his garments. He looked at himself in the mirror. He had always known that his appearance pleased others, though what it was that they saw, he had never known. It was not that he thought himself unattractive; he had just never seen himself as anything more than average. However, when Thranduil looked at him, he realized that he was indeed different than he previously thought; he had begun to see himself through his king's eyes.

He turned and took in his reflection: his long torso, small waist, his hair that hung to just above his buttocks, long and golden, so different from elves in Middle-earth (only Galadriel shared hair of the same hue). His body was muscled, with long limbs, his skin taut and even in tone except for the scar he carried through death and rebirth. He leaned in and studied his face: large, blue eyes, pale like the summer sky, generous lips, but not too full, a strong jaw and well proportioned nose. A smile began to curve his lips. He had always known he was strong and fierce, that those who crossed his path either respected him or feared him. But, now he knew he was beautiful too. This knowledge was a gift his beloved gave him, and it was more precious than anything in the world.

He entered his bathing chamber and stepped into the wide, deep tub. Sinking into the warm water, he sighed as the remnants of travel floated away from his skin. "Spring," he murmured. "'Tis but seven cycles of Ithil. Surely, I can last until then." He closed his eyes and dreamed of his beloved before the evening's festivities were to begin.

* * * *

Thranduil closed his eyes and concentrated on the rhythmic stroke of the brush through his hair. Celebrus hummed softly as he went about his work, and the elf's soft voice soothed Thranduil's aching heart. He felt the courtesan's hands upon his shoulders, then felt the soft press of lips upon his cheek.

"You miss him already," Celebrus said softly.

"Aye."

"Spring will come, you will see him again."

"I know."

"Shall I stay? I will do whatever makes you feel better."

Thranduil opened his eyes and looked at his protégé. "I cannot take comfort in your body while my beloved takes no comfort of his own."

"Do you know this to be true, my lord? Did you not tell him that you would not begrudge him comfort?"

"I did. But to take it so soon..."

Celebrus nodded. "I admit my motivations for offering such are not altogether selfless. Perhaps it would do my lord better to just hold me? Your bed is large, and you are not accustomed to sleeping in it alone."

Thranduil smiled and cupped Celebrus' cheek. "I have not yet decided if you are the most generous and selfless elf I have ever known, or the most guileful and wicked."

Celebrus smiled. "Perhaps I am a little of both?"

Thranduil nodded. "Perhaps. Very well, my fox, you shall sleep in my bed, but you will wear a sleeping robe."

"Will my lord wear one?"

"Would that lessen the temptation?"

"Not really."

"Then I shall sleep as I always have, and you shall behave yourself or you will find yourself warming your own cold bed alone."

Celebrus' mischievous grin changed to a gentle smile. "I truly only wish you comfort, my lord."

Thranduil stood and gathered his courtesan into his arms. "I know, my fox. Come, the hour is late and I am far to weary to defend myself against your assault of reason."

Celebrus chuckled and followed his lord to the bed.

To be continued...

Chapter 11:

Summary: A celebration in Imladris.

Legolas entered the Hall of Fire, his hand tucked neatly into the crook of Erestor's arm. He did not notice the looks of admiration nor hear the whispered words of appreciation of his beauty; he was too preoccupied with the majestic hall and the formidable lord who awaited him at the end of the processional.

Elrohir bit his lip as he watched the prince approach; Legolas was always beautiful, but he was especially so this night. Bedecked in royal robes, his hair elaborately braided and adorned with jeweled clips in the shape of leaves, he practically emitted his own light. Elladan noticed the warm glow and slightly sleepy gaze that accompanied one who had just been thoroughly bedded, and it caused a knowing smile to curve his lips. Indeed, Erestor almost looked like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the bird. The counselor looked so pleased with himself that it almost caused a snicker to escape the elder twin's lips.

A sharp poke of a finger to both of their ribs caused the twins to step aside and look over their shoulders. Arwen stepped in between them, casting a brief, chastising glance at her wicked brothers before turning her gaze to their approaching visitor. Celebrían smiled gently at the approaching pair; she knew the look of love when she saw it. It caused her great happiness to see that Erestor had finally given his heart to another. Their counselor had spent far too many years hoarding that gift to himself. Lord Elrond smiled warmly as Erestor presented their guest. He took Legolas' hand between his own and said, "Welcome to my realm, Legolas Thranduilion. It is an honor to receive you here."

Legolas bowed his head and answered, "The honor is mine, Lord Elrond. I have long wished for this day."

"You are already acquainted with my sons," Elrond continued, the slightest of knowing smiles curving his lips. "I now present you with my wife, Lady Celebrían, and my daughter, Arwen Undómiel."

Legolas bowed and accepted Celebrían's hand, bestowing a soft, chaste kiss upon it; he did the same for Arwen, smiling warmly at her as he rose.

"Welcome, Legolas Thranduilion," Arwen said softly. "I have often heard my brothers speak well of you."

Legolas swallowed, fighting the urge to flush pink again. "Thank you, Lady Arwen. They have told me many delightful stories of you as well."

"Nothing too creative, I hope," Arwen added with a wink. She reached out and took Legolas' arm. "Come, let us procure some wine, shall we?"

Legolas smiled over his shoulder at Erestor as Arwen led him away.

Erestor remembered conversations between Thranduil and Elrond not so long ago, in which the two thought that Arwen and Legolas would be well suited. They complemented one another physically, though Legolas was Arwen's junior. Legolas was slightly taller than Arwen, both were lithe of build, both had large, blue eyes. However, luckily for Erestor, Legolas had shown a preference for males early on, and Arwen seemed to be waiting for someone who was unknown to any of them.

"Erestor."

Erestor's thoughts were interrupted as he turned to look at his lord, who was beckoning him to sit near the fire. He followed Elrond, choosing a chair between Glorfindel and Elrond, directly across from Celebrían.

"Thranduil revealed nothing?" Elrond asked.

"Nothing, my lord," Erestor answered. "Either he is unwilling to share what he knows, or he truly has no idea what is happening in the Anduin Vale. I am reluctant to accept the latter explanation; Thranduil is far too crafty and far too good at keeping his people safe to be unaware of that which we ourselves know." Erestor could feel Glorfindel's stare upon him. "While I will not accuse the Mirkwood King of deliberately engaging in surreptitious activities, I do think he knows more than he is telling us."

"Why would he not share what he knows?" Celebrían asked. "We have ever been on friendly terms. He has sat at our table, he knows our mind."

"Perhaps he is unwilling to speculate," Glorfindel interrupted. "I know the king well, and know that he would not do anything that would bring greater danger to the area or to Elven realms."

Erestor shook his head. "Despite our friendly terms, there is a long history of animosity between the Noldor and the Sindar. We cannot forget that Thranduil comes from Doriath and that he knows it was our kindred that killed his king and ruined his home, despite his young age when it happened. We also have no way of knowing what Oropher instilled in him before he died."

Glorfindel shook his head. "It is difficult for me to believe that he harbors us ill will because of our blood, Erestor."

"Well, not you, perhaps," Erestor muttered under his breath. He felt Glorfindel's gaze grow cold. He focused upon Elrond. "At any rate, I was unable to garner information from Thranduil; we know no more now than we did before we left."

"We know one thing," Elrond answered with a wry grin.

"What is that, my lord?" Erestor asked.

"Ties between Imladris and Mirkwood have never been stronger." Elrond glanced knowingly at Glorfindel then over to Legolas, before focusing again on Erestor. "Time will tell, counselor; time will tell." Elrond picked up his wife's hand and placed a kiss upon it. "Enough talk of politics, 'tis time to celebrate the prince's arrival." He rose from his chair and tucked Celebrían's hand in the crook of his arm, then escorted his wife from the Hall of Fire into the large dining hall across the corridor.

Erestor rose and began to follow, reaching out to touch Glorfindel's arm. His friend pulled away and left him standing in the circle of chairs alone.

Dinner progressed at an agonizingly slow pace, both because of Erestor's desire to apologize to Glorfindel in private and his desire to hide away in his rooms with his lover. He could not discern why it was so difficult for him to adequately explain his suspicions about Thranduil. It was not that he thought the king to be evil; certainly, he could not be, not when he single-handedly raised a son like Legolas. He had difficulty accepting Thranduil's ignorance because the king was precisely the opposite: Thranduil was one of the most crafty and intelligent elves he had ever come across; he had always played things close to the chest - divulging and not divulging what was to his advantage. No, the king could not possibly be ignorant about anything that even remotely affected his realm. Mirkwood Elves were known far and wide for their ability to go unseen; this made them excellent spies, and Thranduil, being a superior warrior and king, would take full advantage of that which was at his disposal. Erestor was certain Thranduil knew something, but what that something was, was yet to be discovered.

After the meal, during which Erestor was inordinately silent, the group rose and adjourned to the Hall of Fire, where Lindir was already tuning his harp. Normally this was his favorite time of evenings like this; Lindir's voice could soothe any troubled spirit. Indeed, Erestor suspected the minstrel's voice could even disarm even the most suspicious of dwarves.

Erestor eyed Glorfindel, who seemed to be consuming far too much wine. He also took note of how attentive the twins were being to their captain. Whether this was a good or a bad thing was yet to be decided. Legolas leaned against him, and he cradled his lover in his arms. Lindir lifted his voice to the heavens and not a living being in earshot could ignore it, even the staff had paused in their duties to listen. After Lindir's performance, the other minstrels continued playing as elves started dancing, and Erestor rose to follow Glorfindel into the gardens.

"I will return shortly, my love," he murmured into Legolas' ear.

"What have you done now?" Legolas asked.

"How do you know I did anything?" Erestor queried in response.

"All one has to do is look at Glorfindel to see he is unhappy. While I know my father's absence is in great part to blame, I suspect that is not the only thing that is bothering him."

"As wise as you are beautiful," Erestor murmured before placing a kiss upon his young lover's cheek.

Legolas grinned, even as he furrowed his brow. "Go on, undo what you have done."

"Yes, my liege," Erestor answered with a smile.

It was not long after Erestor departed that Elladan and Elrohir deposited themselves next to Legolas on the chaise.

"How fares our fine prince this eve?" Elrohir asked.

"Well, quite well," Legolas answered with a grin. "And my friends? How fare they?"

"Most excellent," Elladan answered. "Our captain, however, fares not so well."

"I noticed," Legolas answered. "Is it any wonder?"

"I suppose not," Elrohir returned. "He misses his beloved."

Legolas' gaze darkened slightly. "And I know my father misses him."

"'Tis a hard thing to pine for the one you love," Elrohir mused.

"Aye, hard indeed," Elladan answered.

"The two of you are lucky," Legolas responded.

"That we are, my friend, that we are. Where one goes, so goes the other; we are never left wanting for one another's company," Elrohir said quietly.

"How will we make this work?" Legolas asked. "Travel between our realms is difficult; we all have duties that cannot be ignored, and those duties keep us apart."

"You will all make it work just as you do now," Elladan answered. "For months at a time, nothing more." He brushed Legolas' hair behind his shoulder. "Erestor knows how dangerous your life is; if he had any doubt of that, it was removed with the battle near the river. Yet, he loves you still, even though fear comes with that love. He is willing to accept both parts."

Legolas nodded. "I am glad he lives the life he does. I would rather him be here and us be apart, than for him to be in Mirkwood and be in danger."

"And you know he wishes you were here, out of danger, rather than where you are. Despite this, he admires your dedication to your duty. Though it has been many years, he still remembers a warrior's purpose and the importance of it," Elladan replied.

Legolas smiled. "I am lucky to have the love of so wise and goodly an elf. I never imagined this could be so."

Elrohir grinned. "Nor did we..." Legolas snorted and smacked his arm. "Not that we did not know that one day you would find the love of a good elf, it is just that we never imagined that elf would be our Erestor."

"Love is a mysterious and unruly beast," Elladan added with a smile.

"One I hope to bring to heel," Legolas' responded with a grin. "Seriously, how fares Glorfindel? I know he misses my father, but I hate to see him thus."

"He fares poorly, but he will be fine. Once he returns to duty, he will work himself until he collapses, then rise and do it again. Such will be his way until the mountain passes are clear enough for him to venture East," Elladan answered as he looked toward the doors that led to their father's gardens.

"I fear I should not have left my father," Legolas answered.

"Both your father and Glorfindel are strong. They will weather this, they have weathered far worse," Elrohir replied, patting Legolas on the leg.

"This conversation looks far too serious for my liking," Arwen said as she approached. She extended her hand. "It is your duty as our honored guest to dance with me this night, Legolas Thranduilion."

Legolas smiled broadly and took Arwen's hand. "And I shall do my duty, my lady." He escorted her to the dance floor, twirling her around as she laughed.

To be continued...

Chapter 12:

Summary: Glorfindel misses his lover and the twins find some alone time.

Erestor entered the gardens to find Glorfindel sitting on a low bench, staring at the fountain. His friend held a bottle of wine in one hand, a glass in the other, and the intervals between the filling of that glass seemed far too short for Erestor's liking.

"Glorfindel," he began.

"What do you want? Have you come here to apologize? That is your way, is it not? Say something hurtful and then apologize, as though the apology would remove the hurt?"

Erestor sat down beside his friend. Glorfindel was the closest to him, before Legolas came to be part of his life, and still Glorfindel knew more about him than anyone else. "It is true that often times the words I use are not the best," Erestor said softly. "I would explain my statements, if you would give me leave."

Glorfindel made no reply; he merely waved his hand, inviting Erestor's explanation.

"It is not that I believe Thranduil to be an evil or underhanded ruler. I just know him to be far wiser than he pretended to be during our meetings. There is nothing that moves in or around his forest that he is not aware of; surely, he shares our suspicions about why those orcs are in the Anduin Vale, yet he will not confirm them. He is all too aware of the fact that he is in the most vulnerable position of all the Elven leaders, and he is the least equipped to protect his realm. This must be something that weighs on him every moment of every day."

"You accuse him of deliberately trying to cause discord, of refusing to aid us."

"That may be what it sounds like, but truly that is not what I believe. I think he is waiting, biding his time, perhaps in order to glimpse what the enemy is planning."

"What would you do, were you in his position, Erestor? What if you were fighting every day to hang on to what little you had left? What if every decision you made held an elf's life in the balance? What if you could see what was coming and were powerless to prevent it?"

"I would reach out..." Erestor began.

"To whom? To those who have what you need yet refuse to use that power to help you?"

"Glorfindel, you know as well as I do that neither Lady Galadriel nor Lord Elrond can use that power, not without risking revealing themselves to Him. That would invite great tragedy."

"Yes, Erestor, I know that. And so does he, yet that does little to aid him, little to bring him relief from the constant danger that surrounds him." Glorfindel sighed. "He came to power at such a young age, Erestor, and that after watching his father fall in battle. Then, he was powerless to stop the murder of his wife; again, he watched someone he loved die a gruesome death. For all your wisdom, you have so little empathy, Erestor. This, I cannot understand, for this is not the elf I have called friend for so many years. When did your duty overtake your faith in our kind?"

Erestor sat next to Glorfindel, his hands folded in his lap. It was a good question, he thought. When did his duty overtake his faith? When did he push aside all that he had seen in his life? Since when was coldness requisite for wisdom?

He looked up from his lap and into Glorfindel's imploring gaze. "I do not know," he answered softly. "Perhaps it has been easier to remain detached than to care. 'Tis hard to make decisions when one cares too much."

Glorfindel placed the bottle of wine and the glass upon the ground, and then placed his hand upon Erestor's shoulder. "But can one make the right decision if they do not care?"

Erestor smiled sadly and shook his head. "No, certainly not."

Glorfindel placed his arm around Erestor's shoulders and drew him close. "I love him, Erestor. More than I have loved anyone in either of my lives. Do you think I could love one so much if they were not deserving of that love?"

"No. You have always been an excellent judge of character."

"Can you not, then, have as much faith in him as I do?"

Erestor smiled and leaned his head against Glorfindel's shoulder. "I can. I will. I only wish he would show the same faith in us."

"He will. Give him time, my friend. He has much to overcome when it comes to that."

"Aye, I suppose he does." Erestor sighed. "I will go to Lord Elrond tomorrow and discuss a different arrangement. Perhaps we can lend him aid without bringing harm upon ourselves in the process."

"He could use arms, and warriors, at least to push back the orcs and spiders, to give him more of a buffer between the darkness and his people."

"That I think we can do."

"It could not hurt to encourage an alliance between Mirkwood and Lórien. Their Silvan kindred to the South could provide intelligence on happenings in and around Dol Guldur."

Erestor nodded, then grinned. "Perhaps you should have my position."

Glorfindel snorted. "I fear I would fail miserably."

"In the meantime, what to do about the orcs in the Anduin Vale?"

Glorfindel smirked. "Masters Elladan and Elrohir had an excellent suggestion."

Erestor sat up and looked at Glorfindel. "What?"

"A hunting expedition."

Erestor smiled and laughed. "Yes, that sounds exactly like something they would say." He looked down at the mostly empty bottle of wine. "I know you miss him."

"Aye, I do. More than I thought I would so soon. However, spring is not so far away; I will last until then. It is just that I am having difficulty not worrying about him."

"That, I can understand, my friend. I do not know what I will do when it is time for Legolas to return."

"We do what we must for as long as we must."

"Aye, that we do, my friend."

* * * *

Elladan latched the door to the suite of rooms he shared with his brother and turned to look at Elrohir, who had already removed the heavy outer robe that accompanied the formal, ceremonial garments they wore. His twin was adorned in a thin, silken shirt, sinfully tight, deep blue velvet leggings, and his boots. He knew that when others looked at them, they saw mirror images of one another. Yet when he looked at Elrohir, he saw someone utterly different than the self-image he saw when he looked in the mirror; there was a smooth, feline sensuality about his younger brother that he did not himself possess.

Elladan watched the subtle movement of the muscles in Elrohir's legs and buttocks as his twin closed the door to the armoire and turned to face him. That smile, the one that turned his legs to butter and his core to liquid heat, curved his twin's ample lips, and Elladan moved toward Elrohir as his twin beckoned him with the crook of a finger.

"Remove my braids, will you brother?" Elrohir purred as he moved toward the fireplace.

"Of course," Elladan answered, pausing at the dressing table to retrieve a hairbrush and a small box to place the clips in. Elladan joined his twin in front of the fire and placed the box and the hairbrush on a low table.

"Let me help you with this," Elrohir said softly, reaching for the clasps on Elladan's heavy robe. Deftly working the buttons, Elrohir slid the robe from Elladan's shoulders and draped it over one of the chairs by the hearth. He placed his hands upon his twin's chest, fingers splayed wide as they caressed the curves of lean muscle that formed Elladan's chest, shoulders, and arms beneath the silk of his shirt. He continued to touch his twin as Elladan carefully removed the clips and intricate braids that adorned his head. Soon, his hair hung straight around his face and he sighed as he enjoyed the feeling of the brush moving effortlessly through his hair. "Mmm... that feels good," Elrohir said softly.

"Yes, it does," Elladan concurred, enjoying the tantalizing closeness of his twin as he drew the brush through Elrohir's hair in smooth strokes. "You know what you do to me when you are this close," Elladan whispered.

"I do the same to you that you do to me," Elrohir answered, pressing his body against that of his brother.

"Valar, how I love you, Elrohir," Elladan said softly.

Elrohir tilted his head, bringing his lips to Elladan's throat but stopping short of touching him. "I know. I feel it every moment of every day, and never have I been more grateful for such a thing." He inhaled, breathing in Elladan's scent, so like his own yet still different. "Let me take your braids down now."

"Whatever you wish, brother," Elladan answered, handing the brush to his twin.

Elrohir moved away, walking to stand behind him as his twin began removing his braids. The absence of Elrohir's body, of his heat, caused Elladan's now fully erect arousal to ache. Soon, Elladan's hair hung free, like a curtain of sable silk around his face. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he felt the firmness and warmth of Elrohir's length press into his backside. "What are you doing, brother?" he asked playfully.

"I know there is an agreement of sorts between us, yet I cannot help but desire to have you as you have so often had me, Elladan. Have I not given the full measure of my devotion to you?"

"You have, time and again, my love," Elladan answered. He placed his hands upon Elrohir's hips and arched his back, leaning his head backward, against his twin's shoulder. "And to reward that devotion, I will give you what you seek."

Elrohir slowly ground his hips into his twin's backside. The mere thought of taking Elladan was enough to make his arousal twitch. "How long has it been, Elladan? Since I have done thus?"

"A very long time, Elrohir," Elladan purred.

"I promise not to hurt you, my love."

Elladan smiled. "I know you will not, but I also know you. The Valar know I have seen you take so many. You like it a little rough, this I know, brother."

Elrohir's lips caressed his twin's neck. "Yes," he murmured, "you do know me well. But I will not give more than you can take."

Elladan moaned as Elrohir's teeth marked his throat. "I trust you to know my limits." He spread his legs, widening his stance as Elrohir's hand glided over his erect arousal, cupping it and giving it a squeeze through his leggings.

"To the bed then, my lusty brother," Elrohir growled.

"Yes, my lord," Elladan answered in a smooth purr.

To be continued...

Chapter 13:

Summary: Elrohir makes good use of his brother.

Stripped of his garments, Elladan knelt facing the head of the bed. Elrohir knelt behind him, his twin's hands greedily roamed over his naked body, cruelly avoiding his erect and weeping arousal, while Elrohir's lips and teeth left claiming marks on his neck and shoulders.

Elrohir pushed his brother to his hands and knees and drew his tongue into the cleft of his buttocks with a long, slow lick. Elladan moaned wantonly, spreading his legs to give his twin better access. He cried out as Elrohir's tongue entered him and he pressed back against it, the wet, slick muscle sliding with ease in and out of his body. He knew what his twin wanted to hear, and he happily obliged. "Please, brother," he moaned, "Gods that feels so good."

Elrohir nipped one of his brother's buttocks and smiled. "You beg so beautifully, Elladan."

Elrohir coated his turgid arousal with oil, then slid his fingers inside his brother's willing body. This was something he did often, usually when pleasuring Elladan with his mouth. However, anything further had been a rare occurrence between the two of them. He wriggled two fingers in his twin's heat, seeking his mark. He found it quickly and caused Elladan to groan and arch into his hand.

"Mmm... so wanton," Elrohir purred. "I cannot begin to put into words what this does to me, Elladan." He found his mark again, causing a plaintive cry to issue forth from his brother. "I am aching to take you and ride you hard, my love, to leave you spent and overthrown as you leave me so often."

"Take it all, brother," Elladan moaned. "I withhold nothing."

"Very well," Elrohir answered, removing his fingers and grasping his twin's hips. He pushed forth slowly and steadily, ignoring the tensing of Elladan's body and his aching cry. He knew well that this could not be altogether pleasurable for Elladan, at least not yet; his twin was not accustomed to playing the sheath. However, he also knew the pleasure that came with surrender, and soon enough, his brother would surrender.

He was fully seated inside Elladan, their bodies touching, back to front. He wrapped Elladan's long hair around one of his hands and pulled his twin's head aside, marking his neck yet again. He surveyed his work with a smile; Elladan's neck was peppered with purple marks. His arousal pulsated ceaselessly inside his brother's body and he murmured into his ear, "Is it too painful?"

Elladan's breath was coming fast and heavy, his body still tight, his skin covered in a fine layer of sweat. "Do you think me weak?" he ground out from his clenched jaw.

Elrohir smiled. "Nay, anything but, my love." He withdrew a small amount and pushed back in, earning a groan from his brother. "Valar, you are tight, like one untried." He withdrew a little further and pushed back in. "You must relax, Elladan, or this will take all night."

Elladan took a deep breath, willing his tense body to relax as much as possible. "Give me time, brother. I am not accustomed to being on the receiving end."

"Agreed; I have spoiled you too much, I think." Elrohir withdrew further, moving with increasing ease inside Elladan's body. "Yes, brother, that is better." He continued his action, quickening his tempo as Elladan became more pliable. Soon Elrohir was riding him with abandon, Elladan's hips in the air, his hands grasping the head of the bed as his head rested on the pillow. Elrohir found Elladan's length, stroking it slowly, prolonging the sensual torture for as long as possible. Only when he felt he could take no more himself did he quicken the pace, bringing Elladan to completion moments before he spilled inside his twin's body.

Slowly, Elladan's legs gave out and they lay flat upon the bed, Elrohir on top of his elder brother. His hands caressed Elladan's trembling limbs, gliding through the sweat that covered his skin. His length twitched as it softened, slowly withdrawing from his brother's heat. Elrohir let out a long, ragged sigh, then slid to the side and gathered Elladan in his arms.

"Thank you for that, Elladan," he whispered.

Elladan snuggled back against his twin's warmth. "I love you, Elrohir," he said softly.

Elrohir smiled. "Indeed, this is proven." After a pause he answered, "I love you, Elladan. You are the master of my heart and my body."

Elladan smiled. "Just remember that next time, you imp. I shall not sit now for a week."

Elrohir laughed and squeezed his twin about the waist. "Then I shall keep you in bed until then."

"You would like that, would you not? Me in the bed, at your beck and call..."

"Mmm... yes, I would." He nuzzled his twin's ear. "I promise, I will not take you so hard next time."

"See that you keep that promise, Elrohir," Elladan responded softly.

Elrohir frowned. "Truly, did I hurt you?"

Elladan snuggled closer. "Not really. I am only a little bit sore."

Elrohir smiled. "Let me heal what ails you, then, my beloved." He began humming softly and caressing his brother's body, his hands roaming over his chest, abdomen and hips.

Elladan closed his eyes and felt the healing warmth of Elrohir's hands spread a tingling sensation through his body. A long sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes, allowing Elrohir to care for him as he drifted toward reverie.

* * * *

Legolas smiled and laughed softly as Arwen whispered in his ear. He bowed his head and took her hands in his own, giving a chaste kiss to them before covering his heart with his hand and bidding her goodnight. The lady winked at her new friend before continuing down the hall toward the residence. His smile broadened as he felt his beloved's arms encircle his waist, and he leaned back into Erestor's embrace.

"I see you have won over the Lady Arwen," Erestor murmured into the prince's ear.

"She is delightful," Legolas said softly. "She is intelligent with a quick wit."

"Aye, traits she inherited from her mother, I dare say. So you enjoyed yourself this evening then?"

"As much as I could without you near," Legolas answered with a smile. He shifted his hips and arched slightly against Erestor. "Did you miss me?"

"Mmm..." Erestor purred. "Most definitely, my love."

Legolas turned in Erestor's arms and then wrapped his arms around his lover's neck. "It has been a long day," he murmured against Erestor's lips. "Do you know what I would like?"

"I can imagine," Erestor answered with a quirked eyebrow.

Legolas laughed softly. "Well, that might be nice too, however, I was thinking how lovely it would be to sleep in your arms, buried beneath the heavy blankets on your bed."

"Your wish is my command, my liege," Erestor replied with a smile, then he pressed a kiss to his beloved's lips.

* * * *

Glorfindel smiled as he discreetly passed the lovers outside the Hall of Fire. He was glad that they, at least, would find rest that night. Slowly, he made his way up the stairs to his quarters, his body heavy with fatigue and his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his beloved. He had a feeling he would not be sleeping well for quite some time.

He tried to imagine his Sinda lover, lying in his over-large bed, his flaxen hair glistening against the dark bedding. What he always remembered first about Thranduil, ever since the first time he laid eyes on him as a young Sinda prince, were his eyes. Thranduil's eyes were an impossible shade of blue, like the summer sky on a clear day. Large, round, framed by thick, deep golden lashes and fine, arched brows. It was impossible to look away from those eyes once held under their sway. While he had not kept Thranduil's company often in the long years since the Last Alliance, he could vividly remember each and every encounter leading up to his last trip to Mirkwood.

He had always thought Thranduil to be extraordinarily beautiful, prideful and strong, defiant and unyielding at times. The Sinda's rule had been a hard one, inherited through battle and loss, his title earned with blood and pain. Thranduil's subjects were loyal without question; they held their king in high esteem. In addition to being a strong ruler, his Sinda lover was a fierce warrior, something he had been since the beginning, Glorfindel supposed. He had met few in either of his lives who could match Thranduil in sheer force of will. The king never flinched, never second-guessed himself, and always charged into battle with complete and utter commitment to victory. With a thousand warriors like him, Gondolin might not have fallen. Glorfindel had fought beside many valiant and strong warriors in his days, and his beloved ranked high among them in his estimation.

Wise, beautiful, courageous and strong; it was no wonder he had fallen in love so quickly. Indeed, he knew now that what he had once counted as admiration, had been love all along. He had been in love since the first time they met, on the field of battle at the end of the Second Age.

He sighed as he slid beneath the blankets, closing his eyes and conjuring the vision of Thranduil in his mind as he sought reverie.

* * * *

Thranduil held Celebrus as the courtesan slept. The soft rhythm of the young Silvan's breathing reminded him of when Legolas was young and he would hold his son after a nightmare. Legolas would lie much as Celebrus did in that moment: his back to him, knees drawn in, one hand tucked beneath his head, one hand curled inside his own larger one. It was a small recompense for saying farewell to Glorfindel and to his son, that he could at least take some measure of comfort in holding another. His desire was subdued by the ache in his heart; his days of seeking pleasure for pleasure's sake were over. What he wanted he would have to live without, at least for the time being. No other could be a substitute for his Glorfindel - there simply was no such thing.

He sighed and closed his eyes, giving his courtesan a gentle squeeze and resting his chin on the top of Celebrus' head. Visions of Glorfindel danced beneath his closed eyelids, and it made him smile. The Noldo's sparkling blue eyes, his golden hair, his perfect chiseled body and his boisterous laugh. A smile curved Thranduil's lips as he looked forward to spring, when he would once again have his beloved by his side to laugh with, to pleasure, and to love.

To be continued...

Chapter 14:

Summary: Thranduil makes a bold move; spring comes.

Thranduil lay on his stomach behind a fallen tree, gazing into the predawn mist that covered the Anduin Vale. His captain laid beside him, bow in hand, as they watched the lumbering, foul beasts sully the water.

"What do they seek?" the captain whispered.

"They seek that which has been the bane of all free peoples," Thranduil answered in a low whisper.

"Do you mean..."

Thranduil glanced at his captain from the corner of his eye and nodded. "Aye, that is exactly what I mean."

"But what if they find it? They will take it to Him."

"They will not find it."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know where it is."

The captain swallowed as he felt his heart grow cold. "Do you. . .do you have it?"

Thranduil turned his head and smiled coolly. "If I did, would they still live?" he asked, motioning toward the orcs that grumbled and cursed.

The captain shook his head slowly.

"I may be rash at times," Thranduil began as he turned his gaze back to the orcs, "but as rash and as determined as I am, I am not fool enough to think I can master that evil thing." He sighed. "It would take me, take the hatred in my heart and use it to destroy everything I have fought for. It would drive me mad, as the Silmarils drove Fëanor mad. Nay, good captain. I am not that desperate."

The captain heaved a sigh of relief and looked back over the fallen tree. "Where is it, my lord?"

Thranduil smiled wryly. "Where those dull beasts will never find it. The Dark Lord dares not tell them of the power of the One Ring, for then they, in their dark souls, would covet it. They would be tempted, as all weak beings are, to keep it for themselves. He is yet weak enough that He could lose control over the orcs. He has not sent them here; this is someone else's work. No, there is only one race He trusts with it, only one race He can control so completely..."

"Úlairi..." the captain whispered.

Thranduil nodded. "When we see them prowling the Anduin Vale, that is when we know it is close to being found. What I am most interested in is where these orcs came from and who sent them - though I have my suspicions." He looked over his shoulder and signaled to his soldiers to spread out and surround the group of orcs. "And there is but one way to find out."

The captain swallowed and readied for battle.

* * * *

Glorfindel looked down at the twins from his stallion's back. "So you are off to the north country then?" he asked.

"Aye," Elladan answered. "Though it is over Mother's protestations. We will return before the start of summer, to escort Arwen to Lórien."

Elrohir looked at Erestor, who was mounting his horse. "I feel for Erestor," he said softly. "He has been dreading this day for many a month."

Glorfindel sighed. "As I have been anticipating it. Erestor is strong, he will do as I have done: bury himself in work until he can be with his lover again."

Elladan placed his hand upon Glorfindel's thigh. "Will you send word, once you arrive?"

"Aye. I am sure Legolas will as well; Erestor would have his hide otherwise," he replied with a grin.

"Tell us if the orcs still prowl the Anduin; we will lead a regiment from Lórien if need be," the elder twin answered.

Glorfindel nodded, then looked at the party that traveled with him. "I hope fifty is enough and that things have not deteriorated since I was last there."

"More might compromise us, should the unthinkable occur," Elrohir responded.

"You speak true," Glorfindel said. "I will pray that never comes to pass."

"As we all will," Elrond said as he approached. "I bid you Valars' speed, my friend. We will miss you while you are gone."

Glorfindel smiled. "Gildor is a good choice to lead while I am away, my lord."

Elrond grinned. "Of course he is. We have all fought together many a time."

"I hope we never have to fight together again," Glorfindel answered.

"I share that hope, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel bowed his head and covered his heart with his hand. "Farewell, Master Elrond. I shall see you again, 'ere winter comes."

"Farewell, noble Glorfindel."

Glorfindel gave the signal and a regiment of Imladris warriors rode from the gates of the Last Homely House; among them was a Sinda Prince and a Noldo Advisor.

* * * *

The heavy, iron gate clanged shut and the orc growled in anger. Thranduil stood outside the cage as one of the guards reached in with a hook on the end of a pole and pulled the hood off the beast's head. The orc spun and immediately lunged in Thranduil's direction. The king stepped back and stood just out of reach of the foul creature, further angering it.

"Whom do you serve?" Thranduil asked pointedly.

The beast growled at him in the Black Speech and the king's guards murmured in confusion.

"You understand me," Thranduil answered, his eyes narrowing. "I ask again, whom do you serve?" The orc spat and Thranduil stepped aside, avoiding it. "Do you see that?" He pointed at a canopy that was hung over and around the cage, shrouding it in shadow. He watched as the orc looked up and sniffed the air. "That is correct, you are outdoors. Tell me whom you serve or I will remove it and leave you to go blind. You will be of little use to your fellow beasts once you have been captive and blinded by elves. I imagine the torturous death they could devise is far more creative than one I might come up with. I have little love of your kind and less reason to offer mercy."

"I serve the Dark Lord," the beast answered crudely.

"You lie," Thranduil responded, and he gave the command to peel back the canopy, exposing the front third of the cage to the light of the sun. The orc shrieked and leapt backward, hiding in the shadows. "Whom do you serve?"

"I will enjoy coming back here to kill you all," the orc growled.

Thranduil gave the command once again, and a third more of the cage was exposed. "I have little patience for your petulance. Tell me what I want to know, or things will grow very ill for you."

The orc began pacing and muttering in his guttural dialect. Thranduil raised his hand to command that the canopy be removed when the orc threw himself against the side of the cage and grasped the bow and arrow of a young cadet who stood too close. The orc turned to fire upon the king, when he was brought down in a volley of arrows. Thranduil stood, unflinching, and watched as the orc growled in its death throes. He heaved a sigh and gave the command to have the carcass burned, when the young cadet approached and begged his lord's forgiveness.

Thranduil looked down at the kneeling young elf and placed his hand upon the youth's head. "Forgive yourself," he said softly, "I have already forgiven you. Learn from this, so that it does not happen again."

The youth nodded. "I have kept you from learning what you wished to know," he said quietly.

"Nay, young one," Thranduil answered. "It was not going to tell me, no matter what I did. Remember this: the threat of torture is the only thing that works. The act never does; a being in pain will tell you anything to make the pain stop." He sighed. "I would have killed it, but I would not have tortured it. In that, our races are quite different," he said as he looked at the dead orc. He turned and walked toward his horse, leaving the youth kneeling on the ground.

* * * *

Anor rose and found Erestor and Legolas standing alone amongst the birch trees. The morning air was crisp and the ground damp as Erestor held his lover in his arms. "You will be careful?"

Legolas nodded. "Aye; I promise."

"I will see you next spring, in Mirkwood."

"I know," Legolas answered as he buried his face in Erestor's raven locks. "I shall miss you, so very much."

Erestor gave his beloved a squeeze. "Not nearly as much as I will miss you." He took Legolas' face in his hands and pressed a deep and lingering kiss to his lips. "So sweet," he murmured against the prince's lips. "Never were there lips so sweet in all of Arda."

Legolas smiled. "These lips are yours to command, my love," he whispered. "No one else will ever know their touch."

"You are young," Erestor whispered. "I will not fault you if you turn to another in a time of need."

"Will you do the same?" Legolas asked.

"I doubt it," Erestor answered. "I cannot settle for less than perfection."

Legolas smiled. "Nor can I, my love."

They heard the sound of the camp stirring. "It is time," Erestor said. "You must clear the mountains before Anor's setting."

"I love you," Legolas whispered.

"And I love you," Erestor replied.

To be continued...

Chapter 15:

Summary: Glorfindel and Legolas return to Mirkwood.

"Are you sure?" Glorfindel asked, his eyes warily scanning the treetops at the border of the wood.

"I have traveled this path many times by Ithil's light," Legolas responded. "It is well guarded by my troops."

"But in the dark, we will not be able to see them until it is too late."

Legolas set his jaw. "By the time you see them, it is already too late."

Glorfindel nodded. "Very well, I will defer to your judgment on this; you know these woods far better than I do."

Legolas mounted his horse. "Trust me, we are safer in there than we will be out here. We must travel in pairs; I will take point so that my guards see me first. You should take the rear, just in case."

Glorfindel mounted as well. "Agreed. We should make haste."

Legolas grinned slyly. "Eager to see my father?"

Glorfindel smiled sheepishly. "Well, yes. But that is not the reason I said..."

Legolas laughed softly. "I know, Glorfindel. I am only teasing."

Glorfindel wagged his finger at Legolas. "You should respect your elders. I think you have spent too much time around Elladan and Elrohir."

Legolas smiled broadly as one of the Imladris warriors rode up beside him. "Shall we go?"

Glorfindel sighed deeply and nodded. He wondered if he would ever grow accustomed to passing through these woods.

The troop was silent as they passed through the wood in pairs, following the elf path toward the Caves of Thranduil. Legolas' keen eyes and ears were trained on the wood, listening for any sound that was out of the ordinary. They had traveled a few miles along the path when the prince halted and held up his hand. The troop came to a stop behind him as nervous Noldor placed their hands upon their swords. Legolas whistled softly; it sounded like a tune, or like a Nightingale's song, Glorfindel thought. Six Silvan archers dropped silently from the trees, causing some of the horses and their riders to start. Glorfindel shook his head. He never saw them; he never even sensed their presence despite ages of training. None were better at going unseen than the Silvan warriors of Mirkwood.

A brief, whispered conversation ensued, then the Silvan guards climbed back into the trees and Legolas gave the signal to proceed. When they arrived at the Enchanted River, the guards were already on the ground and the ferry was waiting to carry the horses and their riders across. It was slow going, as only one horse and one rider could cross at once. The river was too broad to jump, and the water would have the same effect on the horses as it did on the riders, should they touch it. After some time, the troop proceeded toward the caves, and as the path widened they rode closer together, rather than in single file. The closer they grew to the caves, the more open the forest felt. By the time they were crossing the bridge, much of the tension had left the group.

The underground courtyard was awash in activity. Stable boys and girls were running around, preparing stalls for the horses and rushing forward to attend to them as they arrived. The staff was already preparing quarters in the barracks for the arriving Noldor warriors, as well as preparing hot meals to welcome them to Mirkwood.

It was good to be home, Legolas thought. Only Erestor being with him could make it perfect. He rubbed his horse's neck and murmured his thanks as the young stable girl arrived to take her. He smiled and kissed the top of the young girl's head, then turned toward the caves.

* * * *

A soft knock upon the king's door woke Thranduil, and he partially disentangled himself from Celebrus and sat up as his steward entered.

"Forgive me, my lord, for interrupting your rest, but the prince has returned, and with him is Lord Glorfindel, along with fifty warriors from Imladris."

"I shall be right there," Thranduil answered as his steward left. "Celebrus, wake; Legolas has returned."

Celebrus mumbled softly as he woke, his grip around Thranduil's waist tightening briefly before he felt the king begin to remove his arms. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair back out of his face. "Legolas?" he asked sleepily. "He is home?"

"Aye, young one, and Glorfindel has returned with him."

Celebrus watched Thranduil slip out from beneath the blankets and quickly pull a robe around his bare shoulders. "Then it is time for me to warm my own bed," he said softly as he rose.

Thranduil caught his courtesan by the arm and drew him closer. "You have my gratitude, dear one," he said softly as he tucked Celebrus' hair behind his ears.

Celebrus smiled and wrapped his arms around Thranduil's waist. "It is I who is grateful, my lord, for all that you do and have done for me. Providing companionship is the least thing I can do for you."

Thranduil kissed the crown of Celebrus' head. "My gentle, selfless fox," he murmured. "Caring for you has been one of the great things I have done in my life."

Celebrus buried his face in the king's hair and breathed deeply. "I shall always care for you, my lord. I shall always love you as my family." He pressed a brief kiss to the base of Thranduil's neck and then pulled back. "I am glad Glorfindel has returned, it will do me good to see you smile again." Thranduil caressed Celebrus' face as the Silvan continued, "Now, I must prepare Legolas' room for him as he likes."

Thranduil smiled as he watched Celebrus depart. He never failed to appreciate the elegance and grace with which his courtesan moved, it was akin to watching a deer run through the forest or an eagle glide upon the wind. "What to do with you, Celebrus?" he murmured to himself as the door closed behind his courtesan. "How do I help you find a new purpose in life now that this one no longer exists?" He sighed deeply and tied his belt around his waist, then headed down the corridor toward the courtyard.

* * * *

Glorfindel conferred with his captain briefly before watching his men follow their escorts to the barracks. A touch on his shoulder caused him to turn and look at Legolas, who pointed toward the entrance to the main hall of the caves. A broad smile bloomed on his lips and he murmured his apologies to the prince as he quickly walked toward the stairs that led to the main door. He dodged elves that were moving to and fro, his eyes never leaving that which he lived for. He climbed the stairs three at a time and found himself where he had sometimes feared he would never be again - in his beloved's arms.

"Oh, Glorfindel," Thranduil murmured into his lover's ear. "It feels as though it has been an eternity since I held you last."

"Thranduil," Glorfindel whispered. "My love." He pulled back slightly and found his mouth consumed in a heated kiss. He ran his hands into the king's loose hair as he opened his mouth wider to his lover. Neither one of them cared who saw them, they were so caught up in one another. "I love you," he breathed as Thranduil released his mouth. "I missed you."

"I missed you, as well, my beauty," Thranduil murmured into Glorfindel's ear.

Thranduil caught sight of Legolas climbing the stair and briefly released his lover. "Greenleaf," he said with a smile as Legolas stepped into his arms. "It is good to have you home safe."

"Hello, father," Legolas answered with a smile. "I missed being here; I missed you."

"And I missed you, my son," Thranduil answered softly. "Are you well?"

"As well as I can be while missing Erestor," Legolas answered.

Thranduil pressed his forehead against his son's. "I know of what you speak, Greenleaf. But you will see him again."

Legolas smiled and nodded before releasing his father and entering the main corridor.

Thranduil watched him go, his joy upon seeing his son again dampened by the knowledge of what Legolas was feeling. He felt Glorfindel's arms around his waist and he leaned back against his beloved's strong form. "Come," he murmured. "You must be tired."

"I am in need of a bath," Glorfindel said softly into his lover's ear, "and your touch."

Thranduil smiled. "That I can provide."

* * * *

Legolas entered his bedchamber to find a fire burning in the hearth and his bed turned down. The room smelled of fresh heather and lanterns were lit, providing a soft, warm glow. He turned to see Celebrus emerge from his dressing closet, folded towels and a fresh robe in his hands. The Silvan smiled at him and said, "Welcome home, my lord. I have prepared your room to your liking. Would you care for me to bathe you?"

Legolas looked at his dear friend and courtesan, an elf he knew in more ways and better than anyone, even Erestor. It was a comfort to find Celebrus here, as he had so often found him in the past. It was though things had not changed, when in reality they had, very much. He began to protest when he saw the hopeful look in his courtesan's eyes. This was Celebrus' duty, his role; to take it away from him seemed cruel. "Yes," he said softly. "I would like that very much."

Celebrus smiled gently and followed his prince to the baths.

Legolas noted that Celebrus averted his eyes as he undressed, this was something the Silvan did not normally do; it was a sign that his courtesan accepted that things had changed. He waded into the warm, swirling water, then dipped below the surface and emerged to find Celebrus already in the bath. The way Celebrus touched him was different now, tentative almost; it was not the seductive and sensual touch he remembered, and it was yet another acknowledgement of how things had changed between them.

"Will you sing for me?" he asked quietly.

"Of course, my lord, anything you wish."

Legolas closed his eyes and listened to the soft, lilting notes of Celebrus' voice echoing in the chamber and soothing his troubled heart. This was something he had missed over the long months of his stay in Imladris. After his hair was thoroughly rinsed, Legolas watched Celebrus exit the bath, dry himself, and wrap himself in a robe before holding out a towel for him. He followed, accepting the towel and allowing Celebrus to dry him and wrap him in a robe.

When they returned to his bedchamber, he watched Celebrus gather his soiled garments and his bedroll. "Wait," he said softly.

Celebrus paused in his work and looked up at Legolas. "Yes, my prince?"

"Are we not still friends?" Legolas asked quietly. "Are we not still brothers?"

Celebrus smiled. "Aye, my lord, we are still friends and brothers."

"Then why does this feel so strange? Why do you seem so distant?"

"I am trying to find a new place in your life, my lord. I can no longer be what I was once to you. I am not sure what I should be now."

"Please, call me by my name."

"Legolas," Celebrus said softly. "You know that I love you, I always have. You are most dear to me; you and your father are the center of my world. Yet, you and your father each have a new center, a new reason for being. I have yet to find my own, and I am not sure I want to find another."

"Come," Legolas said softly as he held out his hand. He watched Celebrus approach and found himself confused by his own feelings. As much as he loved Erestor, as much as he knew with total certainty that Erestor was the one he was meant to be with, he still found Celebrus' beauty enthralling; he still felt the bond between them.

He led Celebrus to his bed and bid his courtesan sit beside him. As he held Celebrus' hand between his own, he thought of the long and strange history they had together. Where did they fit in each other's lives now that so much had changed?

"Do you remember your forty ninth begetting day?"

"Aye, I do. You gave me my stallion, and you gave me my first kiss."

Legolas smiled. "I was showing off, trying to impress you with my awkward attempts at seduction. I thought I knew so much already."

Celebrus smiled. "Do not make light of that kiss, it was magical. It was the first time I had ever felt that way."

"Do you remember how we were nearly caught, half naked and aroused, straw in our hair..."

Celebrus chuckled. "Aye. Do you remember trying to walk back to our respective rooms while furiously tugging our tunics down to hide the evidence of what we had done?"

Legolas laughed. "I do. My cheeks were so red."

Celebrus nodded. "I could not look anyone in the eye for fear of what they would see."

There was a brief moment of silence and Legolas continued. "Do you remember the morning after your majority celebration?"

Celebrus smiled. "Aye."

Legolas reached down and pulled Celebrus' legs into his lap. He ran his hand down the outside of Celebrus' right calf and pulled his robe up to expose his ankle and foot. He slowly turned the gold ankle bracelet around his courtesan's slender leg. "Do you remember when I first saw this?"

"I do," Celebrus answered softly.

"I knew you had taken the final step, that you had committed yourself to the path we had talked about. I knew you had been initiated by my father." He sighed. "I have to admit, I was envious. I wanted to be the one; I wanted to do to you what Elladan and Elrohir had done to me."

"That could not be; not if I were to have what I wanted, not if I were to become what I wanted to be," Celebrus answered.

"Nearly all my life I have loved you," Legolas said quietly, "and that love has never been easily explained. We have shared fears and secrets, we have played and learned together. I have made love to you, I have given my body to you and I have taken yours in return. I have tried to protect you; I have tried to make you happy..."

Celebrus reached out and grasped Legolas' arm. "You have, Legolas. I have never wanted for anything, ever."

"Where do we go now, my fox?" Legolas asked softly. "What do we become now that my heart belongs to another?"

"We are what we always have been," Celebrus murmured as he leaned his head upon Legolas' shoulder, "we are brothers in spirit, if not by blood."

"Am I wrong to still want you?" Legolas asked, his eyes closing as he fought to deny the stirring of his blood.

"It is never wrong to be truthful, Legolas. But it would be wrong to ignore the consequences of this desire." Celebrus tilted his head. Legolas' throat was mere inches from his lips; it was such a temptation. "As much as I want you, and Elbereth knows that I do, in the end it would cause only pain for you, for me, and for Erestor."

Legolas nodded. "As always, you never fail to guide me well, brother."

Celebrus pulled his legs from Legolas lap and stood. "Now, I will take my leave before we both succumb and regret what we have done." He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to Legolas' cheek. "Good night. Sleep well, brother." He left, his wrist slipping from Legolas' grasp as he walked away.

"Sleep well, my fox," Legolas whispered to the empty room.

To be continued...

Chapter 16:

Summary: Glorfindel and Legolas return to Mirkwood.

Glorfindel looked down at the rumpled bedclothes as Thranduil slipped his tunic from his shoulders. "You have not slept alone," he said quietly.

Thranduil paused and placed his hands upon Glorfindel's bare shoulders. "No, in truth, lover, I have not. Celebrus has shared my bed these many nights since you left."

Glorfindel turned and looked into Thranduil's eyes. "Your courtesan?"

"Aye, one and the same. But I have not partaken of his body or of his talents, that I swear."

Glorfindel searched Thranduil's eyes and saw no dishonesty in them. "I will not lie and say I am not envious of the youth, sleeping soundly each night in your arms while I lay awake."

"If it is of any consolation to you, I did not sleep soundly either," Thranduil said. He turned and placed Glorfindel's tunic upon the back of his chair. "He came to us when he was quite young, and often he and Legolas both would share my bed if one or both of them had a nightmare. While he is now my courtesan, holding him in your absence felt more like those long-ago days than anything more recent."

Glorfindel nodded. "I will not begrudge you that measure of comfort. Had I one to seek it with, I would have done the same."

"You can seek it with me now, my love," Thranduil said softly, sliding his hand to the back of Glorfindel's neck and drawing him forward into a kiss. "I want you to take me," Thranduil murmured against Glorfindel's lips. "I want to feel you inside me, I want you to have everything that I have to give."

"You are mine, Thranduil Oropherion, never forget that," Glorfindel murmured huskily.

"I could not, even if I wished to," Thranduil answered smoothly.

Glorfindel slid his hands inside the king's robe, greedily consuming his body with his touch. "I will take you, like I did that first night, if only to remind you to whom you belong." He fisted Thranduil's hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat and marking it with his teeth before suckling the abraded flesh, leaving a bright purple mark.

"I am yours, Glorfindel," Thranduil whispered seductively, "but I shall not stop you from reminding me."

Glorfindel smiled wolfishly as he stripped Thranduil of his robe and guided him to the bed. He stood over his beloved as he slowly removed his leggings, teasing his lover with the slow revealing of his skin. Already his king was aroused; the Sinda's length lay hard against his flat stomach. "By Elbereth, you are a beauty," Glorfindel murmured as he followed Thranduil, who crawled backward onto the bed. "Watching you yield is one the rare and great pleasures I have in this life."

"I so love it when you are forceful, Glorfindel. The carnal side of your nature is irresistible," Thranduil answered smoothly. Glorfindel's lips hovered over his own as Thranduil whispered with a smile, "the great Balrog Slaying warrior in my bed. What have I done to deserve so grand a gift?"

Glorfindel smirked. "You may yet need to do more to deserve it, my delectable king."

"You need but command me, master. I will obey."

Glorfindel lowered himself to his lover; his flesh seemed to ignite when they touched. "Less talk, Sinda, more action," he growled as he took Thranduil's mouth in a heated kiss.

Thranduil struggled to reach his bedside table, but it was not easy with Glorfindel assaulting every inch of his flesh at every turn. He quickly rolled to his stomach and squirmed closer to the table, barking in surprise as Glorfindel's hand came down sharply on his backside.

"Are you trying to escape?" the Noldo queried.

"Do you plan to take me unprepared?" Thranduil retorted. He looked over his shoulder at his backside. "That will leave a mark, you know."

Glorfindel purred like a cat, albeit like a predatory one, and bestowed a long, slow lick upon the king's reddened cheek. "I will be the only one who sees it."

"Sweet Elbereth!" Thranduil exclaimed as Glorfindel spread his legs wide using his own knees. His fingers just missed the knob on the front of the drawer when he heard a soft suckling sound and turned to see his lover's fingers in his own mouth. "Are you serious?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "Ai!" he cursed as Glorfindel's fingers quickly breached his body. "Valar, tell me you are not serious," he moaned as he gripped the bedcovers in his fists.

"You said you wanted me to take you," Glorfindel murmured into his ear.

"Yes, but I would like to be able to sit and walk upon the morrow," Thranduil answered with a deep moan. He cried out loudly as his lover found his mark and he arched into his hand.

"Have no fear, my love," Glorfindel said huskily, as he reached over Thranduil and opened the drawer. "I want you to enjoy this." His fingers closed around the phial and he stroked his mark once more, smiling as Thranduil moaned wantonly beneath him.

Thranduil groaned as Glorfindel's fingers left his body. His arousal pulsated maddeningly, trapped between his stomach and the bed. He supposed it was not a very kingly position to be in, but when it was just he and Glorfindel, rank did not exist. He shuddered with pleasure as his beloved's lips and tongue teased his entrance, then he moaned and pushed back as Glorfindel's tongue entered him.

The torment seemed to last forever, the slick muscle gliding in and out of his body, twisting and teasing him as it withheld that which he desired most. Soon it withdrew and he felt Glorfindel's oiled fingers inside him. He bent his knees and pulled them up underneath him, opening himself to his lover. A deep moan escaped him and he cried out, arching into his lover's hand when Glorfindel found his mark again.

"By the Valar, you are so beautiful," Glorfindel whispered into his ear. He admired the rosy flush to the king's skin, his swollen lips, and his dark eyes; those eyes nearly drowned him. He moaned almost gratefully as he entered his beloved and he heard Thranduil's answering call of surrender. "I love you," he whispered, "so very much."

Thranduil arched against him, meeting each of his lover's thrusts. "I love you," he responded breathlessly. "I am yours, and you are mine."

Glorfindel began riding his beloved's strong body faster, delving deeper inside with each thrust forward. He stroked Thranduil's length in time with his thrusts, wanting to prolong the act but needing completion. "You first, my love," he murmured huskily into his lover's ear.

Thranduil came with a heartrending cry, his lean, strong body contracting around Glorfindel's painfully turgid length. Glorfindel's own climax followed hard upon his lover's, and he spilled himself inside his beloved's body.

They lie together, panting, sweating, their bodies warm and sated. Thranduil smiled as Glorfindel nuzzled his ear. "I have missed you," the king purred.

Glorfindel smiled as he stroked his lover's arms. "It is wonderful to have that which I have dreamed of these long months. Never has another felt so good to me. I love you, Thranduil."

"I love you, Glorfindel," Thranduil replied as he closed his eyes and reveled in the closeness of his beloved.

* * * *

Glorfindel spent the spring, summer and early autumn in Mirkwood with his warriors. Together, the Silvan warriors of Mirkwood and the Noldor soldiers of Imladris reclaimed land that had been lost to the encroaching darkness. The spider dens were cleared out and burned; the foul beasts retreated to the shadows of the southern slopes of Emyn-nu-Fuin. The orcs that had prowled the Vales of the Anduin dwindled, both through slaughter and retreat, and soon the safe haven of Thranduil's realm extended to just north of Emyn-nu-Fuin and into the northern reaches of Mirkwood.

The southernmost reaches of the great wood were still shrouded in darkness, and few would venture south of the Old Forest Road. Though Thranduil's realm was safe, the Necromancer's power was still growing, as the increased forces on the eastern borders of Lórien proved.

Thranduil entered his bedchamber to find Celebrus waiting for him. He removed his gloves and reached for the buckle to his scabbard, when Celebrus approached and took over. He watched his beautiful fox work the buckle with practiced skill and place the weapon on a long table near his bathing chamber. Celebrus then reached up and unbuckled the king's cloak, draping it over his arm as he then moved to loosen the clasps on Thranduil's tunic.

"You need not do this," Thranduil began.

"I know I need not, my lord," Celebrus answered. "But it is what I have always done. Have I not cared for you these many years?"

Indeed, Celebrus had been acting as Thranduil's squire long before he had taken the next step. Since the lad was old enough to reach the clasps on Thranduil's tunics, he had taken this role upon himself, caring for both the king and his son. Thranduil smiled wearily. "Aye, you have, and you have cared for me well. I am grateful for that care, my fox, but what of your own? Are you not worthy of being cared for yourself?"

"My happiness is in the execution of my duty to you and to the prince, my lord," Celebrus replied softly as he stepped behind the king and slipped his tunic from his body. He gently untucked the thin, soft undershirt the king wore before draping the cloak and tunic he held over the back of a tall chair. He began to raise the undershirt when he stopped. Rising to the balls of his feet he leaned in and whispered to the king, "Am I usurping Glorfindel's place, my lord? Is this something he wants to do?"

Thranduil smiled and looked over his shoulder at his courtesan. "Glorfindel will be far too weary to do this for himself, let alone for me." An idea occurred to him and he smiled. "The customs of the Noldor are somewhat different from those of our kind. Perhaps Glorfindel should know the pleasure of being cared for in such a way." He turned and faced Celebrus. "The battle was hard, my fox, and while we lost none and only few were injured, he will be most tired and most sore. One of your baths and massages would do him much good."

Celebrus smiled. "I will do my best to bring him comfort and to please you, my lord."

Thranduil caressed Celebrus' cheek. "You always do, dear one." He raised his arms over his head as Celebrus pulled his undershirt off.

"You are bruised," Celebrus said with a frown.

"It was a battle, my fox," Thranduil answered with a smile.

"I thought kings were supposed to command, not fight," Celebrus retorted, his brow still furrowed. "You always fight and I always have much work to do upon your return."

Thranduil chuckled. "Then I am glad your dedication to your duty brings you much happiness, for you will never want for that as long as you serve me."

Celebrus raised an eyebrow and cast a chastising glance his king's way. "You make light of what may one day deprive me of my duty. I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you or to Legolas, yet you both charge into battle as though you were invincible."

"Not invincible, dear one, just all too aware of what is at stake. We both would rather die in battle than live in a world where darkness rules. There are things worse than death, my fox," the king answered quietly. He placed his hands on each side of Celebrus' head and drew his forehead to his lips. "There is no point in dwelling on what cannot be changed; we must always remember to cherish what we have and live life to the utmost of our ability."

"Yes, my lord," Celebrus answered softly, then he reached for the laces on Thranduil's leggings. After tugging them loose, he knelt and removed the king's boots. "Into the bath with you, my lord, then I will see what aches I can banish."

Thranduil smiled as he strode toward the bath. "You will banish them all, my fox, you always do."

Celebrus clicked his tongue as he gathered the king's battle-soiled garments. "If I did not know better, I would swear he was part ox."

"What was that, my fox?" the king called from the bath.

"Nothing, my lord," Celebrus answered as he deposited the clothing in a basket by the door.

To be continued...

Chapter 17: Summary: Glorfindel gets a taste of Celebrus' talents as a gift from his beloved.

Glorfindel entered the king's bedchamber and found Celebrus waiting. A sheet folded in half lay on top of the bedding and several small phials of oil sat on the bedside table. Candles embedded with rosemary and heather were burning, as was a robust fire in the hearth. He could hear his beloved humming in the bathing closet adjacent to the bedchamber.

"My lord," Celebrus began. "Allow me."

Glorfindel watched in weary surprise as the courtesan approached and removed his scabbard, placing it next to Thranduil's sheathed sword. The Silvan then removed his cloak and began unbuttoning his tunic. Glorfindel grasped his hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I am doing what my lord bid me do," Celebrus answered as he gazed up into the Noldo's piercing blue eyes.

"Glorfindel, allow the elf to do his duty, will you? I would like to leave the bath before the water grows cold," Thranduil called from the other room.

Glorfindel glanced toward the bathing chamber and furrowed his brow, then released Celebrus' hands. "Continue," he said softly.

Celebrus tried to contain the trembling of his fingers; this Noldo lord intimidated him in more ways than one. It was not just his piercing gaze, nor his stature, nor his powerful form - it was also his reputation. This was an elf who had engaged in single combat with a beast so terrible that it caused even the bravest warriors to grow pale when they spoke of it. Celebrus could not even imagine how terrible it must have been to battle that monster and fall to death. As he slipped Glorfindel's tunic from his body, he chewed his lower lip. The Elda had an amazing form, more muscular than his king's, and taller as well. It had been many long months since he had last enjoyed the touch of another, and those months had seemed longer than they really were. He hoped he could rein in his desire as he worked on both his king and his king's beloved, for both presented more than enough temptation.

Celebrus crossed back in front of Glorfindel, reaching for the laces on his snug, leather leggings tentatively. The Noldo did not object, so he loosened them and knelt to remove Glorfindel's boots.

"You do this for your king?" Glorfindel queried as the Silvan knelt at his feet.

"Aye, every day, my lord. Well, almost every day."

"Every day in my absence, then."

"Yes, my lord."

"You enjoy your work?"

"I do, my lord."

"I can imagine you would," Glorfindel answered as he fixed his gaze upon the wall.

"It is not what you think, my lord. I take pride in my work and in the care I give my king because of what he has given me. He saved me, my lord; he raised me as if I were his own. He has given me everything I have ever wanted, all that was in his power to give, at any rate."

"And what is not in his power?" Glorfindel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He cannot give me my family back, my lord. No one can do that," Celebrus answered softly.

Glorfindel immediately felt guilty and ashamed of the petty jealousy that he could not seem to shake. "Forgive me for taking such a tone with you, Celebrus. I know Thranduil loves you as his own, and that is evidence of your character. It is just that..."

Celebrus stood and placed his fingertips on Glorfindel's lips. "Say no more, my lord. You have every right to question my intentions. I love my king, as much as I love myself, and his happiness is my greatest desire; I could never interfere in that, regardless of any selfish feelings I may have from time to time."

Glorfindel smiled. "You are wise for one so young."

"Years lived and experience are not always the same," Celebrus answered with a smile.

"Indeed they are not," Glorfindel replied.

"Are you two quite finished?" Thranduil called. "The bath is cooling."

Celebrus smiled. "Your turn, my lord. Just give me a moment to refill the bath."

Glorfindel watched as the Silvan retreated into the bathing closet. Moments later his beloved emerged, wrapped in a towel. Thranduil crossed the room to him and slipped his hand behind Glorfindel's neck, drawing their mouths together. Glorfindel sighed as Thranduil's lips withdrew and watched as he removed the towel from his waist and lay on the bed, face down.

"Come, my lord," Celebrus called, and Glorfindel looked up to see the Silvan standing in the doorway, hand extended. He crossed the room and took the Silvan's hand, following him into the king's private bath. "I am trained in some healing arts," Celebrus said softly as he slipped Glorfindel's leggings from his hips. "While my training is not that of the Sons of Elrond, I have been praised for my work. If you will remain here until I call for you, I will see what aches I can coax from your frame with my hands."

Glorfindel stepped into the bath and sighed as he sank into the warm water, resting his head upon the rim of the tub and closing his eyes. How much time passed, he was not sure, but soon he saw Celebrus standing over him, barefoot and shirtless, clad only in a pair of soft, silk pants. A gentle smile curved the Silvan's lips and he held out his hand.

"Come, my lord."

Glorfindel nodded and rose from the bath, following Celebrus into the king's bedchamber. Thranduil sat by the fire, clad in a heavy velvet robe with a glass of wine in his hand. Glorfindel noted that the king's flesh seemed to glow, both from its flushed state, and the residual oils left on his skin. A sated smile curved his lips and his heavy-lidded eyes sparkled with the light of the fire.

"You are in for quite a treat," Thranduil said smoothly. "I doubt you will want to go without it."

Glorfindel smiled as he raised an eyebrow, then laid down upon the bed as instructed. He tensed a little when he felt the bed dip and Celebrus' weight settle on the backs of his thighs. A long drawn out, "Aaahhhh..." escaped him as the Silvan's hands pressed into his back.

"Relax, my lord. First I must draw the blood into your muscles, then I will work out the knots. It may begin to be uncomfortable, but I promise you will feel quite good when all is done."

True to the courtesan's word, what started as the heels of his hands gliding along the muscles through the oil became the tips of his thumbs digging into places that caused a few yelps of surprise to escape Glorfindel's lips. Throughout he breathed deeply, and soon his body stopped resisting and the muscles released. As much as he wanted to deny it, the procedure was becoming quite erotic. Celebrus' fingers worked his muscles as they glided through the oil, and soon deep, soft moans of pleasure began to escape his lips.

Thranduil watched all with a growing sense of desire, his darkening eyes never leaving his bed. He knew Celebrus well enough to know that this was arousing to him as well, and the fact that it had been months since his courtesan had performed his duty to its fullest did not escape him. Perhaps there was a way to give back to his fox and still be faithful to Glorfindel; perhaps he could love them both.

Rising from his chair, he left his wine behind and untied his robe, moving to join his lover and his courtesan on the bed. Celebrus yielded immediately, his lithe form leaning back against him as he knelt behind the Silvan. "Come, my fox," Thranduil whispered, "You have gone without long enough." He stretched out beside Glorfindel, guiding Celebrus to lie between them. As he looked into Glorfindel's eyes, no words were needed to relay his thoughts; his lover understood him well enough.

In the years since Celebrus had become Thranduil's courtesan, only once had he trembled thusly. Glorfindel lay behind him, the Noldo's powerful form molding against him; his king lay in front of him, looking deep into his eyes. He did not tremble out of fear; he trembled out of pure need. Glorfindel's hand slid over his hip and began moving in small circles on his lower belly, and a shuddering sigh escaped his lips as he arched against the Elda. His king's lips covered his own and he moaned gratefully into the kiss, bending his knee and draping it over Thranduil's hip. He could feel Glorfindel's turgid arousal slide between his legs and his own twitched in response. He was trapped in between their strong bodies as they moved against him; two sets of hands caressed his form, two mouths explored his flesh.

Glorfindel closed his eyes as his lips closed upon the point of Celebrus' ear. The young Silvan undulated against him with a hypnotic rhythm and he could feel his beloved's hand caressing his hip and drawing the three of them closer together. It was not the first time he had participated in such an act; indeed, he had lain with the twins more than once. It was, however, the first time he had done such a thing with someone he loved, and that made the experience all the more enticing. Celebrus' musical moans were driving him on, and he buried his hand in the mass of flaxen silk that crowned Thranduil's head. His beloved's talented and sinful mouth worked the courtesan's nipples into hard, engorged peaks, causing Celebrus to grind his backside into his lap. He distantly wondered who would take Celebrus. Would it be him or his lover?

"Please, my lords," Celebrus whispered. "I need..."

"Take him, Glorfindel," Thranduil whispered huskily.

Glorfindel reached behind him, his fingers closing on a phial of massage oil that Celebrus had used earlier. He quickly coated his arousal, one arm wrapped around the courtesan's waist as his oiled fingers slipped inside Celebrus' body. The Silvan's long, elegant fingers clutched at his hip as he gently sucked on the base of Celebrus' neck. The soft suckling sounds of his beloved's mouth upon the Silvan's arousal quickly drew his desire toward a fevered pitch. He entered Celebrus' body easily, his turgid arousal sliding into tight, decadent heat. A strained moan escaped his own lips as he thrust forward and felt his lover's hand cup the pouch of skin that lay beneath his arousal. He took the courtesan slowly, each deliciously agonizing thrust lighting his body on fire.

Thranduil worked his hand between Glorfindel's legs, gently rolling the pouch of flesh against his palm as he took Celebrus into the back of his throat. He could feel that pouch tighten and heard Celebrus' cry of release as he drank down his courtesan's essence, then he heard Glorfindel's own deep growl of climax as his lover emptied himself inside Celebrus' body.

Celebrus lay between them, panting and trembling in the aftermath of his release. Glorfindel's lips gently caressed his neck and his hands softly stroked his hips and sides as he felt his king's mouth kissing its way back up his torso. A tear fell from his eye as he whispered, "Thank you." Then he opened his eyes to gaze into those of his king.

Thranduil smiled gently then kissed him thoroughly before rising from the bed. His lord returned carrying a small bowl of warm water and handed it to Celebrus. Sitting up, Celebrus accepted the bowl and then turned and began cleaning Glorfindel. Glorfindel watched with darkened eyes and felt his beloved lie behind him. His length began to awaken with Celebrus' skilled touch, and he heard Thranduil murmur, "'Tis my turn, my love."

He moaned quietly and arched against his beloved as he felt Thranduil's turgid length slide between his legs. Celebrus' fingertips caressed the scar upon his torso, then his lips followed them, depositing soft kisses upon its length. He placed his hands upon the headboard of the bed, his fingers curled around the iron posts. He gave himself to his beloved and his courtesan, allowing Thranduil to take him while Celebrus pleasured him with his mouth.

The fire popped and hissed as it began to wane, and the three sated elves lay curled around one another in the bed. Thranduil lay behind Glorfindel, holding him protectively, stroking his hip and nuzzling his ear with his mouth. Glorfindel held Celebrus against his chest, stroking the courtesan's silver hair and long, slender back with his hands. He had to admit, despite his insecurities and doubt when this experience began, he had never felt so at peace and sated in his life. It was as if the three of them were meant to be this way, though he could not understand it himself.

Celebrus slept soundly, the courtesan's arms wrapped around Glorfindel's waist and his head resting against the Noldo's shoulder. Glorfindel looked down at the crown of Celebrus' head and felt a surge of protective affection. It was then that he understood the relationship between Thranduil and this waif of a Silvan; Celebrus was easy to love.

He closed his eyes and snuggled back against his king as the three of them drifted toward reverie.

To be continued...

Chapter 18:

Summary: Glorfindel follows a hunch; Celebrus makes an admission.

Glorfindel sat next to his king at the long table in the feasting hall. Their last patrol had proved fruitful and the Silvan and Noldor warriors celebrated their victory after securing additional lands. Despite the music, laughter, and carousing soldiers, Glorfindel could sense a tension in his beloved. He had never pressed Thranduil regarding Erestor's suspicions, and while it was tempting to ignore them, he had never known Erestor to be completely wrong. He slid his chair closer and leaned over, speaking quietly to the Mirkwood King.

"What is the cause of such concern, my love? Today was a great victory, your people will be safe for years to come with the additional lands we have reclaimed."

"Indeed," Thranduil answered. "And for that I owe thanks to you and Elrond. Yet none of us will ever be truly free as long as the One Ring exists."

"What is it that you are not telling me, Thranduil?" Glorfindel asked.

"Do you believe, as some do, that the Ring passed down the Anduin to the Sea?"

"No."

Thranduil smiled wryly. "You are wise, as is your friend Erestor."

"Erestor believes you know something of the One Ring. Do you?"

Thranduil turned and looked at his beloved. "I am surprised it has taken you this long to ask. The Valar know that Erestor was not nearly so patient."

"Erestor has never been patient, my love, but I am. I was hoping you would tell me, relieving me of the need to ask."

"The One Ring is no longer where it has rested for so many years."

"You know where it is?" Glorfindel asked in astonishment. "How could you possess this knowledge and suppress it? How could you have hidden such a thing?"

Thranduil looked at Glorfindel evenly. "Well, will you not ask the final question, the one that strains at the end of your tongue? Will you not utter the words that so many wish to utter?"

Glorfindel swallowed. "No."

"Come, my love. Even as much as you love me, surely you must doubt me now. Ask, I will answer."

"Do you have it?" Glorfindel asked, his fingers clutching the arms of the chair he sat in.

Thranduil sighed quietly and looked toward the far end of the long table to where his son sat with Celebrus. Legolas was laughing at something Celebrus said, and the two were commiserating like in days of old.

Glorfindel felt his blood grow cold as he looked at Thranduil. How could his beloved have hidden such a thing from him? How could Thranduil have such knowledge and keep it secret, even from him? Was it possible that the One Ring was locked away in the dungeons of these caves? He reached out and touched Thranduil's arm. "Thranduil?" he whispered.

Thranduil looked at him and answered, "No, Glorfindel, I do not have possession of that evil thing, nor do I desire to have possession of it. You are free to search the caves if that will alleviate your suspicions."

Glorfindel leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "I have no need to search, I believe you."

"Do you truly? Are you sure? I have kept this from you; how do you know you can trust me further?"

Glorfindel looked at his beloved. "Because I know your eyes, and I know you. There is no lie in them. I will not pretend to understand why you withheld this knowledge from me; I can only imagine that you had a reason. But know that I defended you to Erestor and to my lord and lady, and now that I know this, I must tell them."

"I am honestly sorry to have put you in such a position, Glorfindel. But I know the ways of the Noldor too well. Had I divulged this information, immediately there would have been a search for the One Ring, that search would have drawn attention to that which needed no more, and only ill could have come of that; I am sure of it."

"What you know of Noldor ways is clouded by your experience at the hands of a small band who betrayed their kind. Not all Noldor are kinslayers, nor do all Noldor covet power."

Thranduil looked at his beloved; the hurt in Glorfindel's eyes pierced his very soul. "It was your king that would not listen to my father, it was your king and Elrond who dismissed him as a fool. Had they treated him with more respect, perhaps he would not have acted so rashly. Knowing that others see you as inferior has a profound effect on one's judgment, Glorfindel."

"You blame your father's death on Gil-galad and Elrond?" Glorfindel asked with astonishment.

"Not entirely," Thranduil answered. "But the meetings leading up to that final day did nothing but hasten its end."

Glorfindel shook his head and rose from his chair. "I know not what to say; there is no answer I can make to this charge." Thranduil closed his eyes as Glorfindel left the table.

Legolas looked up in time to see the exchange between his father and Glorfindel. While he could not hear the words spoken, he could see that something was amiss. He rose from his chair, his brow furrowed, and found Celebrus already standing beside him.

"Tend to your father," Celebrus said softly. "I will go after Glorfindel."

Legolas nodded in reply and watched his best friend follow the Elda down the corridor.

* * * *

Celebrus found Glorfindel in the king's chambers. The Noldo stood with his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his hands cupped around his elbows. Glorfindel's gaze rested on the wall, but his stare was blank, as if he was not in the room at all. Celebrus swallowed and approached cautiously, not sure of what he was going to say or do. Glorfindel still intimidated him; their activities that afternoon had done little to change that. He could not explain it. It was not as if he believed the Noldo would harm him or that Glorfindel wished ill upon him in any way, but there was something about the Elda’s presence that unnerved him.

"My lord?" he said softly, gently placing his slender hand upon the warrior's broad, muscled back. Glorfindel turned as if he had been startled out of a dream and looked at the courtesan. Celebrus could see the hurt in the Noldo's deep azure eyes. "What has happened? What said the king to you?"

"I envy you," Glorfindel said quietly, almost menacingly. "You know him so well, and it appears I know him not at all."

"That is not true," Celebrus replied. "You know his heart, and knowing that will lead you to know his mind. In time you will know him better than you know yourself."

"And how well do you know him, Celebrus? He loves you well; this is evident. Does he trust you, too?"

"I hope so," Celebrus answered. "I have known him nearly my entire life. There is nothing about me he does not know; yet, as well as I know him, there are still places inside him that no one understands or sees, not even me."

"I have seen some of those places, dark and impenetrable, places where he holds secrets."

"Those places are where he keeps that which might hurt those he loves, Glorfindel. That which comes with the burden of ruling this dangerous land." Celebrus lowered his gaze and continued softly, "The pain he has suffered in the past has helped to shape who he is, but it has also taken a toll upon him. There is anger there that has no outlet, no place in which to set it down so that he may leave it behind. He will never kill enough orcs to satisfy it, and as long as there are those foul beasts, that hatred will be fed."

"I fear that the hatred will overtake the love," Glorfindel said quietly.

"Not as long as there are those who love him to keep it at bay," Celebrus replied.

"Those like you?"

Again, Celebrus felt that gaze that seemed to look both inside him and through him at the same time, the gaze that nailed him to the spot where he stood. "And you," he whispered. He gasped as he found himself pressed against the wall, held there by the Noldo's strong hands upon his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing to open them for what he might see.

"You fear me," Glorfindel's deep voice murmured next to his ear. "Yet, you let me take you anyway. Did you do that just for him?"

"Not just," Celebrus whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

"You liked it," Glorfindel answered, his voice dropping as his lips ghosted along the curve of Celebrus' ear. Celebrus nodded but said nothing. "Why do you fear me?"

"I do not know," Celebrus answered. "I have never known anyone like you before. The things you have done, the things you have seen."

"Ah yes," Glorfindel returned. "The great Balrog Slayer. That is what you are thinking, is it not? That you are trapped here by one who battled a Balrog. It is oft forgotten that I lost that battle. I am an elf, no more. Yes, I have seen more than many, but I am still an elf. I hurt, I bleed, just like you do."

Celebrus opened his eyes. Glorfindel's face was so close, his mouth mere inches away from his own. He could feel the Noldo's warm breath upon his lips, feel the heat of his body through the thin shirt he wore. He understood now what it must have been like for Glorfindel all those years, always being different, always being apart from the rest. Celebrus knew something about being different.

"I want to know you," Celebrus whispered. "I want you to know me. I want you to see that we want the same thing. We both want his happiness."

"But we both want his heart," Glorfindel answered.

"We both have his heart, my lord," Celebrus replied. "He loves us both; but it is you that he is in love with. You are the one he cannot live without, you are the one who keeps his heart alive. I am no threat to that, nor could I ever be, even if I wished it." His eyelids fluttered closed for a moment as the Noldo leaned closer. Again, he found himself inexplicably drawn to Glorfindel. "I will give you whatever you ask of me. I will leave, if that is what it takes for you to stay."

Glorfindel's eyes were closed; the melodic tone of the courtesan's voice seemed to draw him in. His lips were almost touching Celebrus' soft mouth when he heard those final words. Drawing back, he opened his eyes and looked into Celebrus' pleading gaze. "You think I would leave?" he asked softly.

"Please, my lord." Celebrus grasped Glorfindel's shirt in his hands. "Do not leave him. He could not bear it."

"He seems to wish it," Glorfindel answered softly.

"Because he does not believe he deserves your love."

"How could he think such a thing? It is I who does not deserve..."

The sound of the door opening caused Glorfindel to step back and turn to see Thranduil enter the room. Somehow, the courtesan had disappeared without him seeing it. He watched as his beloved crossed the room, and without a word, Thranduil gathered him into his arms.

"Forgive me," the king whispered into his ear.

Glorfindel held Thranduil tight. "I forgive you," he answered. "But please, do not keep such secrets from me again." He closed his eyes as he felt his lover's hands in his hair.

"I will not," Thranduil answered, "even if the revealing of them changes how you feel about me."

Glorfindel squeezed his beloved. "Nothing could change that."

To be continued...

Chapter 19:

Summary: Legolas struggles with his feelings for Celebrus; Erestor and Elladan get drunk.

Legolas was returning to his room when he found Celebrus exiting his father's chamber through a side door that he often used. His friend looked shaken, with his head bowed and eyes cast to the floor. Legolas knew that Celebrus saw him, yet the courtesan turned and made for his own chamber without saying a word. He caught his friend in two long strides, gently grasping his upper arm and pulling the Silvan back toward him.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"They are well," Celebrus answered in a quiet voice.

"But you are not." Legolas gathered Celebrus into his arms, despite his friend's efforts to resist. "Tell me what plagues your heart so."

"Nothing; I am fine, Legolas."

"You most certainly are not." Legolas pulled Celebrus along with him and escorted him into the courtesan's chamber.

"Please," Celebrus answered softly. "Let me be."

"I cannot," Legolas replied. "I have never been able to."

Celebrus pulled away and turned on his best friend. "Can you not see how unfair this is?" he shouted. "I am caught between you, and both of you have your own to love. My whole life has been spent serving you . . ."

Legolas recoiled. Celebrus had never taken such a harsh tone with him. "I thought it had been spent loving us."

"It has! I do! And that is precisely the problem! I love you, both of you, and both of you have someone else to love. I have no one."

Legolas was both pained and ashamed by Celebrus' words because they were true. "I have been selfish," he said softly. "It is just . . ."

"Please, do not say any more," Celebrus answered quietly.

Legolas nodded. "Forgive me, my fox," he said quietly, then he turned and left Celebrus alone in his room.

Celebrus fell upon his bed and rolled to his side, staring blankly at the wall. He tried not to weep, he tried to push the pain he felt deep inside, but it was too strong. He had known from the beginning that love such as what his king felt for Glorfindel and what Legolas felt for Erestor was never part of the arrangement between the three of them. Yet, even knowing this, he loved them still and had begun to hope that one, or both, of them might one day feel that way about him. He knew it was impossible that both father and son could love him that way, and despite that he had wished for it. Now they each loved another, and he was left alone, loving them.

His mind traveled back to that first kiss so long ago in the hayloft. He remembered the way Legolas felt against him, the way his prince's lips felt upon his own. He had been a slave to that feeling ever since, but he had never told Legolas that it was his kiss that opened the door. He looked around his room; it was filled with things that bespoke of his role in life: robes made of sensual fabrics, trinkets, scarves and jewelry, things whose sole purpose was to make him desirable. What was to become of him now that his talents were no longer needed? Who was he to serve, the king's court?

It was no secret to him that there were those who coveted him, yet they would never dare touch him for fear of reprisal from the king or the prince. He was free to choose those aside from Thranduil and Legolas to lie with, as he wanted, but no one was allowed to choose him. Was there an elf in Mirkwood who did not know what he was? Was there one who could love him in spite of knowing that?

He closed his eyes, allowing sorrow and fatigue to overtake him as he drifted into the land of dreams.

* * * *

"Erestor?"

Erestor blinked and returned to the present, looking across the desk at Elladan. "Forgive me. What was I saying?"

Elladan snorted and shook his head. "Preoccupied with thoughts of a certain Sinda?"

Erestor grumbled and shook his head.

"Believe me," Elladan continued, "I know how distracting that particular Sinda can be. It was months before I stopped feeling the after-effects of our . . ."

"Enough!" Erestor barked, interrupting Elladan. "I have no interest in hearing about . . ." he waved his hand, ". . . that."

Elladan grinned mischievously. "Of course, forgive me, Master Erestor."

"Tell me again how many bags of wheat we are expecting?"

Elladan raised an eyebrow. "Wheat? What are you talking about? We were talking about commissioning custom armaments from the smiths of Eregion."

Erestor buried his face in his hands and propped his elbows on his desk. "This is impossible! I cannot concentrate on my work."

Elladan rose from his chair and rounded the desk, standing behind Erestor and placing his hands on the counselor's shoulders. "Sweet Elbereth, you are tense, Erestor." He began kneading Erestor's shoulders. "It must be all that pent up . . ."

Erestor sat bolt upright. "Elladan!"

Elladan snorted again. "Forgive me, Erestor. It is nigh on impossible not to have fun with this."

"I suggest you find a way," Erestor grumbled.

Elladan leaned down, close to Erestor's ear. "In all seriousness, Erestor. I know you miss him."

Erestor closed his eyes. "I do, and I worry about him."

Elladan nodded. "Aye, but Legolas is an accomplished warrior despite his young age, and he is more than capable of taking care of himself. Spring will come before you know it."

A soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Elladan and Erestor looked up to see Lindir standing in the doorway.

"A most interesting shipment has arrived, my lords," Lindir said with a sly grin. "I think you might want to come and inspect it."

Elladan smiled. "Come, Erestor. Let us see what this is; it will provide a distraction."

Erestor rose from his chair. "Very well."

* * * *

"It came from where?" Elrond asked, swirling the burgundy liquid in his glass before sniffing it.

"A group of Haradrim that we intercepted along the west road," Gildor answered. "They were smuggling slaves and taking them south. We freed the humans and they returned north, toward their home in Eriador. Along with the humans, we found enough food and supplies to get them through their journey. There was honey, brown sugar, flour, live fowl, hogs, and cattle. It was quite the caravan. We sent most of the provisions with those we freed, but this we kept for ourselves."

"And the Haradrim?" Erestor asked.

"They resisted," Gildor answered. "Not one survived."

Elrond took a sip of the potent brew, and after a few moments, he smiled. "It tastes lovely," he said.

Erestor followed his lord's lead and took a drink. Indeed, it was lovely, rich and fruity, with a hint of vanilla and roasted nuts.

"I shall have this served at dinner this eve," Elrond said with a satisfied smile, then he left the wine cellar with glass in hand.

Elladan grabbed a bottle and followed Erestor from the wine cellar. Taking the counselor's elbow he leaned in and murmured, "Come, Erestor, let us get blind drunk, as the Northmen say."

Erestor raised an eyebrow, then allowed Elladan to lead him toward the river.

* * * *

Erestor lay on the warm, soft grass soaking up the late summer sun, watching as Elladan swayed back and forth on an old swing he and Elrohir had constructed many summers ago as youths. "We used to swing in a large arc, then just as we reached the apex, leap off the swing into the river," the peredhel said.

Erestor chuckled. "You two gave your mother fits. She was convinced that one or both of you would kill yourselves on that thing."

Elladan listened to the groaning creak of the branch above his head. "I think I have grown too large to pull off that same feat. This tree may show its discontent by breaking at an inopportune moment."

Erestor raised his glass. "Indeed." He furrowed his brow. "It is me or is this drink rather potent?"

Elladan slid off the swing and ambled over to where Erestor lay. He refilled his glass then poured the remainder of the bottle into Erestor's glass. "It is most certainly not you," he mumbled. Frowning he continued, "I know what I want to say, but I am having difficulty forming the words."

Erestor laughed. "Aye, you are. Is this what is known as blind drunk?"

Elladan chuckled. "I believe it is."

"It is nice," Erestor returned as he took another sip. He tugged at the seat of his leggings. "I feel rather . . . warm."

Elladan slipped his finger into the waistband of Erestor's leggings and tugged them. "Then I say we should go for a swim, my good counselor."

Erestor grinned. "Sounds like a wonderful idea." He watched as Elladan clumsily gained his feet and then held out his hand. He nearly toppled back over as he was unceremoniously snatched to his feet, then laughed as Elladan caught him.

They undressed awkwardly, one being tripped up in his leggings, the other forgetting how to open the clasps on his tunic. Finally, stripped bare as the day they were born, they ambled over to the edge of the pool and looked down.

"Looks inviting," Erestor slurred.

"You first," Elladan answered, then clapped the counselor so hard on the back that he sent Erestor tumbling face first off the low ledge and into the water. Laughing, he scrambled up to a high rock and raised his hands over his head. "Watch out, Erestor, here I come!" he shouted, and then leaped from the rock into the water.

Erestor emerged in time to see Elladan's naked body hurtling through the air toward him. Barking in surprise, he quickly swam backward and watched Elladan enter the water a few feet from where he once had been, sending water splashing into the air. A few moments passed and Elladan did not emerge. Frantically, Erestor began searching for him.

"Elladan! Stop playing and come up this second! Elladan . . . Ai!"

Erestor jumped as Elladan emerged a few inches from his face, his hair slicked back from his face and his ample lips curved into a smile. He was so relieved to see the peredhel unharmed, that he closed his eyes and smiled as he sighed. In his drunken haze, he registered the feeling of Elladan's hands on his hips.

The world seemed to be all wrong, turned upside down somehow, yet he felt so good, what Elladan was doing felt so good, that he could not heed the call of his better judgment. His own hands grasped Elladan's back as he felt the peredhel's legs wrap around his waist. He looked into Elladan's dark, stormy eyes, then caressed his wet face.

"You are the best of them both," he whispered, "your father's intensity, your mother's gentle beauty. You are remarkable."

Elladan smiled. "Long have I wondered what this would be like." He leaned in and pressed his forehead into Erestor's. "I oft had daydreams like this when I was young. I always had the biggest crush on you, much to Elrohir's amusement."

"Seriously?" Erestor asked in surprise. "I never knew."

"That is because I hid it from you all these years. I am not sure why I do not still hide it."

"You are drunk."

Elladan chuckled. "Aye, that I am. Perhaps it is this false bravery that causes me to be so bold." Placing his hand behind Erestor's head, he pressed his mouth to the counselor's, ignoring Erestor's momentary resistance. Soon, Erestor took over, ravishing Elladan's mouth with savage intensity, the long months of pent up desire pouring forth in a kiss.

Erestor's mind screamed at him to stop, yet his body would not heed the call. He was committed and nothing was going to stop it.

To be continued...

Chapter 20:

Summary: Legolas loses his battle, and so does Erestor.

Celebrus felt his wide bed dip beneath him, the shift of the luxurious sheets moving against his bare skin. Rolling over, he found Legolas lying beside him, the prince's eyes looked as though he had wept. Legolas reached out and caressed his face, whispering, "How can you love me when I have been so cruel?"

Celebrus pressed his check into Legolas' hand. "You have not been cruel; it is not cruel to fall in love."

"But I keep coming to you; I keep you here, when you should be free to love whom you wish."

"I do love whom I wish. I love you."

Legolas leaned in, his lips caressing Celebrus' mouth as he whispered, "I cannot stop myself from wanting you."

Celebrus, too tired and too weak to fight it any longer, wrapped his arms around Legolas, pulling him closer as he yielded to his prince's kiss. Legolas' answering moan of gratitude caused a tear to fall from Celebrus' eye; he had, after all, always only wanted the prince's happiness. The courtesan's body immediately responded to his prince, just as it always had; the deep ache of desire lighted inside his core and grew with each touch, each kiss. Legolas kissed him desperately, as if trying to make up for the long months they had gone without one another. He knew it was wrong, so did Legolas, but sometimes good elves did bad things.

Silencing his conscience, he arched beneath Legolas, the Sinda's strong hands and warm, soft mouth reminding him of who he belonged to. It had begun that night so long ago, when the young prince took his hand and led him into the caves. That night his life changed forever; that night he dedicated himself to loving and serving his king and his prince. He fisted Legolas' loose, soft hair as he pressed his chest into the prince's mouth. His desire was rising, burning him, filling him with a delicious ache. "I have missed you," he whispered.

"Oh, my fox, I have missed you as well, so much," Legolas answered. He latched on to one of Celebrus' nipples, suckling it and drawing the blood to the surface. The Silvan tasted so good, like honeysuckle, sweet and rich. His skin was soft, flawless; it had never known injury, never known pain, only pleasure, only love. Celebrus was as pure of heart as anyone he had ever known, and he was determined to show his fox just how much he meant to him.

He delved into Celebrus' navel with his tongue, causing a gasp to issue from the courtesan's lips. The Silvan's hips undulated beneath him, his swollen arousal gently rolling against his stomach. Legolas clutched Celebrus' hips, his own body aching as he diligently brought his friend closer to the fall. Nipping the inside of one long, slender thigh, he smiled as Celebrus uttered a plaintive whimper and spread his legs further apart. He lapped at the soft pouch of skin that lay just beneath the courtesan's arousal, and Celebrus parted his thighs further, offering himself without hesitation or shame.

Legolas greedily consumed this gift with his hands and his mouth, his tongue swirling around the swollen and weeping shaft as his fingers massaged Celebrus' entrance. He wanted the Silvan so badly that it hurt. He felt Celebrus' fingers clutching at his shoulder, and he looked up, seeing a phial of golden oil in his courtesan's hand. Accepting it, he generously oiled himself, then slid two fingers inside Celebrus' body; a smile came to his lips as he watched his fox arch off the bed and heard his beautiful, aching cry.

After cursory preparation, he gathered Celebrus' long legs in his arms and positioned himself at the Silvan's entrance. Looking into Celebrus' dark, smoldering eyes, he entered him slowly, savoring the gradual envelopment of his rigid and aching arousal. Fully seated inside him, Legolas paused. Celebrus' fingers clutched at the headboard, his back arched, his body bowed beautifully beneath him. Making love to his courtesan was like a sensual dance; everything Celebrus did, he did with grace and elegance.

Leaning forward, Legolas began to move, his mouth seeking out that of his courtesan. Their moans filled the chamber, punctuated with plaintive cries and breathless pleas. Their bodies moved together like a well-orchestrated dance. They knew one another well. Locked together, their mouths found one another, and they consumed each other's cries as their passion reached a fevered pitch.

Celebrus clutched at his prince's back as Legolas rode him deeply, his arousal trapped between their bodies, aching for its own release. Legolas thrust deep inside him and growled as he found his climax, and Celebrus felt his prince's essence fill his body. He was panting and holding tight to Legolas, his own body feeling as though it would explode. They lingered for a few moments and each one felt as if it were an eternity. Slowly, Legolas slipped from him despite his efforts to keep him inside, then his prince slipped from his grasp and Legolas' warm, wet mouth engulfed his aching arousal.

Celebrus cried out and arched against the bed as Legolas brought him to completion, drinking down each drop of his seed as it spilled forth. He trembled, feeling his body cool after their exertions, and he was gathered up in Legolas' strong arms. He held his prince tight, wrapping both his arms and his legs around him as they lay together, the only sound in the room being their rapid breathing.

Thranduil stood outside his courtesan's door, his hands on the doorframe as he listened to the sounds of lovemaking. He had come to be sure Celebrus was all right after Glorfindel told him of the conversation his lover and his courtesan had. He closed his eyes and whispered, "Oh, Greenleaf" as he shook his head. It was one thing for him and Glorfindel to lie with Celebrus together; it was something else entirely for Legolas to do this alone and without Erestor's knowledge. "I hope you have not made a terrible mistake," he whispered, then he quietly returned to his room where his beloved slept peacefully.

* * * *

Erestor stood with his legs apart, his hands gripping the wet stone as he felt Elladan's fingers digging into his buttocks. His head hung down, his lust-darkened eyes focused on the peredhel's glistening wet, sable hair, the silky ends floated on the surface of the water as his head moved in a slowly increasing rhythm, back and forth. No one's lips should feel so good, no one's mouth should be so wet, he thought, as those lips and a warm tongue glided back and forth over his impossibly hard arousal. He struggled to maintain his tenuous balance as he perched on the edge of a smooth stone ledge.

The sun, warm and bright, shone down upon them, the waters of the pool gently lapping at their skin. As his desire rose, he imagined returning this favor to Elladan, distantly wondering how strange it was to be so engaged with his lord's eldest son. A yelp of surprise escaped his lips as a single finger entered his body, then he cursed loudly as it found its mark. Elladan's other hand cupped the soft pouch that lay beneath his arousal, gently rolling it before giving a gentle squeeze. Erestor began to roll his hips forward into that welcoming, warm, wet embrace, slowly thrusting into Elladan's sinfully delicious mouth.

He felt it rising, threatening to burst forth, and his hands left the stone and fisted Elladan's damp hair as he began thrusting faster and more forcefully. The peredhel took it all without hesitation or difficulty, and Elladan greedily drank down his seed as it burst forth. Erestor caressed Elladan's wet hair as the peredhel licked him clean, a low, soft purring sound coming from deep inside his chest. Erestor found it difficult to focus on any one point, his sated body threatening to buckle and fall backward into the water.

A gentle push from Elladan was all it took to send Erestor falling backward into the deep pool. The counselor floated on his back, a dazed and satisfied smile curving his lips. Elladan smiled wolfishly, and then swam to Erestor, gathering the counselor into his arms and greedily consuming his mouth in a kiss.

Erestor growled in response, clutching the back of Elladan's head as he took control. He could taste himself on the peredhel's tongue and he could feel the insistent press of Elladan's unabated arousal against his belly. He tugged Elladan's hair slightly, pulling his head back as he whispered, "Your turn, Master Elladan."

Elladan smiled mischievously. "Excellent," he replied.

With a shove from Erestor, Elladan floated backward, laying on the surface of the water and feeling the sun warm his face. He was guided along the surface of the water like a boat until they reached the same spot where he had just pleasured the counselor. He tried to look down the length of his body, but when he raised his head, his body sunk, earning a pinch on the backside from his one time tutor. Instead, he folded his arms behind his head as Erestor held his hips, and he closed his eyes.

The first lap of Erestor's tongue caused him to shudder and moan deeply. His arousal was pulsing, aching, weeping with need. He groaned as he was engulfed by Erestor's mouth and the counselor greedily consumed him. In this position, he was forced to remain passive or he would sink beneath the surface and away from Erestor's wonderful mouth. With his arms straight out to maintain his balance on the surface, he gave control to Erestor. As his desire reached a fevered pitch, he found it difficult to remain still. Every muscle in his body was a tight as a strung bow, and he could hear his moans rising into the small canyon.

He cursed loudly as he came, his back arching powerfully, and shuddered as Erestor licked him clean and then drew him up to sit in his lap. Elladan smiled lazily as Erestor tucked his wet hair behind his ears, the counselor's fingertips teasing the points slightly. He suddenly felt like an elfling again, sitting on Master Erestor's lap while the normally staid counselor gushed over him as though he were a Vala.

"While I love you both," Erestor said softly, "you have always been my favorite."

"Truly?" Elladan asked with a sleepy smile.

"Yes. I remember when you were both born. I had never been comfortable around elflings, and in the beginning, you both made me so nervous. You were so small, so delicate, and so very perfect. Then as you grew older, you were both hellions. I am sure both your father and Glorfindel found the sight of me chasing behind you quite amusing."

Elladan chuckled and leaned his head upon Erestor's shoulder. "We have always loved you, you know. Even when you scared us, or disciplined us, we loved you still."

Erestor wrapped his arms around Elladan's waist and gave him a squeeze. "Promise me something, Elladan."

"What?"

"That you will never allow bravery to overtake common sense, that you will always think of the repercussions of your actions upon those you love . . ."

Erestor felt his stomach drop as he grew silent. 'Sweet Elbereth, what have I done?' he thought.

"Erestor?"

Erestor looked at Elladan and tried to hide the overwhelming sense of guilt he was feeling. He did not wish to ruin this tender moment with his own stupidity.

Elladan furrowed his brow then pressed his forehead to Erestor's. "Do not worry, Erestor. Elrohir and I are always careful, we always watch over one another."

"Good," Erestor murmured.

"I am so sleepy," Elladan whispered.

The peredhel's words were slurred and his body felt heavy. Erestor surmised that it was taking him longer to recover due to his human blood. "Come, young master," Erestor whispered. "It is time to return home."

"To Elrohir," Elladan murmured with a smile.

"Yes, Elladan, to Elrohir," Erestor answered. He lifted Elladan's body, thankful for its buoyancy, and guided him to the shore, where he carried him the short distance to where their clothes were left behind.

To be continued...

Chapter 21:

Summary: Celebrus is sent to Imladris with Glorfindel.

As the first winter chill began to fall upon the Misty Mountains, Glorfindel prepared to return to Imladris. He would meet Elladan and Elrohir to escort the Lady Celebrían and Arwen back over the mountains. One quarter of his regiment would return with him, while the rest remained behind for the winter; those soldiers without families choosing to remain behind and aid their new Silvan friends further.

He entered his beloved's chambers, finding Thranduil at his desk signing a letter. A sad smile curved his lips as he watched his beloved, and he wondered if leaving would ever become easier.

Thranduil looked up from the parchment and smiled at Glorfindel. He too dreaded what was to come: another long winter without Glorfindel by his side. His burden had been greatly lessened with the addition of the Noldor warriors from Imladris. "I have written a letter expressing my gratitude to your lord for the lending of his warriors," he said with a smile. "I owe him, and you, great thanks."

Glorfindel rounded the desk and knelt beside his beloved. "You owe me naught but your love, Thranduil."

"And that you have, in abundance," Thranduil answered as he caressed Glorfindel's cheek. "I have also detailed what I know about the One Ring in this letter, relieving you of the need to explain. I need not tell you that should evil befall your journey, this letter must be destroyed."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement. "No one shall ever see it, I swear it."

"There is one more thing I must ask of you, my love," Thranduil said softly.

"Anything, my king," Glorfindel answered.

"I want you to take Celebrus with you to Imladris."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and rose to his feet, taking a seat upon the edge of the desk. "Why do you send him away?"

"I believe he needs to begin to experience life on his own, and that is something he will never do here. He is too dedicated to me and to Legolas. Help him, Glorfindel, help him find his own way, his own life."

Glorfindel leaned down and caressed Thranduil's cheek. "Your love for him and your devotion touches me deeply, my love. You know that I will care for him as you would."

Thranduil nodded. "And should he need you, should you need him, know that you have my blessing."

Glorfindel sat back and cocked his head. He was not sure how to respond. He found the prospect intriguing, yet he could not reconcile this interest with the feeling that he would be betraying something between him and Thranduil. "You are so sure of your love for me; you are so sure of me. How can you be thus?"

Thranduil smiled. "I have not known love often in my life, Glorfindel, but the love I have known has been as true and solid as the mountains. By lying with Celebrus, you do not diminish your love for me, for what passes between the two of you does not touch that love. By giving him what he needs, by giving him kindness and compassion, you only serve that love by caring for what means the most to me. I know my relationship with him is difficult to understand, indeed it defies explanation, but I love him like he was my own, and all I want is his happiness."

Glorfindel nodded. "Know this, my love. I will do whatever he needs, I will help him in any way that I can."

"He is intelligent, Glorfindel. He is more than just a courtesan; he knows healing arts, he is learned in lore and history, he understands politics, and he loves to sing. Surely, he can find a place for himself there where he has a purpose other than the one he has dedicated his life to. He deserves to love and be loved; he deserves to have what you and I have."

Glorfindel moved from the desk to his lover's lap, placing his arms around Thranduil's neck. "It will be difficult for him to leave you, he will be most unhappy."

"In the beginning, yes. But in time he will find a place where he can be happy and he will not miss us so much."

"What of Legolas? Does he know this?"

"Not yet, and I dread telling him. I am not sure who will take it harder, Celebrus or Legolas. They have always been so close, almost like brothers."

"He will wish to return one day, and Lord Elrond will not force him to stay in Imladris."

"Agreed, and if that is his choice, so be it. But I will command him to stay for no less than twenty years."

Glorfindel nodded. "You know best in this, my love. I will do as you bid."

"Thank you, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled. "I know just the one to occupy his time while he is in Imladris. If my intuition is true, he will be so enchanted, so preoccupied, twenty years will pass in the blink of an eye."

"The twins?" Thranduil queried with a raised brow.

"Nay, the Lady Arwen. She will be taken with him immediately and, if I know her, she will make it her mission to see that he has everything he needs and is kept quite busy."

Thranduil chuckled. "It sounds as though the Lady Arwen takes after her mother."

Glorfindel smiled and winked. "That she does, my love, that she does."

* * * *

Celebrus looked at Thranduil with pleading eyes. "I do not understand, my lord. Have I done something to displease you?"

"No, my fox. You have always pleased me in everything that you do."

"Then why do you send me away?"

"I need you to look after Glorfindel for me; our last separation was difficult for him, and he has grown to care about you as I do. How you care for him is your choice, Celebrus, but I need you to accompany him to Imladris, and once there, I want you to stay for no less than twenty years."

"Twenty years, my lord! Nay, I cannot, I cannot be without you for so long! Who will care for you while I am gone?"

"Oh, my gentle fox," Thranduil said softly. "It is high time I cared for myself. You have been so loyal, so generous. You have earned this chance, Celebrus. This is a chance to make your life over, to be what you want to be."

"I am what I want to be! I chose this life because I love you!"

Thranduil gathered Celebrus in his arms. "And I love you, Celebrus, since I found you cowering in that burned-out tree, covered in soot. You have always held a special place in my heart that no other will ever occupy. But I know how torn you feel now; I know how much it pains you to know that both Legolas and I love others. You deserve the same, you deserve one who can return your love in equal and like measure."

Celebrus nodded as tears fell from his face. "I do not want to leave you," he whispered, "but I will do your bidding, and I will ensure that your beloved returns to you happy and whole."

Thranduil took Celebrus' tear-stained face in his hands. "My loyal fox," he said softly. "I will always love you, I will always be here for you if you need me. Know that no matter where you roam, your home is always here, your bed always prepared for you."

"I love you, my lord," Celebrus whispered. He watched as his beloved king leaned down and pressed their lips together for a soft, chaste kiss.

"I love you, my fox," Thranduil replied as he pulled away and released his courtesan.

* * * *

"No! Why? Why do you do this? His home is here, he belongs here!"

"Legolas, he deserves a chance to make his own life."

"I refuse to believe that he cannot do that here. You send him with Glorfindel for Glorfindel's sake, not his own."

Thranduil turned on his son in a flash of anger. "You question me thus? You think me so selfish? All your life, Greenleaf, you have ever been an honest and forthright elf. You have always respected me and respected others, do not tarnish those acts and your person by behaving like a spoiled and selfish prince!"

Legolas shrunk under his father's harsh gaze. "But I love him," he said softly.

"Then prove that love by releasing him to find his own happiness. Do you really believe that keeping him here to lie with you when Erestor is absent is in his best interest?"

Legolas turned away. "You make it sound as though I care naught for him other than to take pleasure with him."

Thranduil approached his son and wrapped his arms around Legolas' wilted frame. "I know you love him, Greenleaf; I have always known that. But how do you think Erestor would feel knowing that you lie with Celebrus while apart from him? How do you think Celebrus will feel being turned aside when Erestor returns?"

Legolas took a deep breath. "I know you are right; I know you are. Every moment of every day for the past fortnight I have felt the guilt growing inside me, and yet still I seek him out. I cannot understand it. I love Erestor with all my heart, Father. Yet, I love Celebrus in equal measure."

"But not in like measure, Greenleaf, and that is what he needs. He needs one as devoted to him as he is to us. He needs and deserves what we have."

"I wonder if I will still have it when Erestor finds out what I have done."

"It is best he learn this from you."

"Aye, but I do not fear Celebrus telling him."

"No, he would never do that. But you have been less than discreet these last few days, and the eyes of the court are ever upon you. I doubt there is one who would willingly betray you, but what if Erestor happens upon a conversation and overhears this?"

Legolas looked into his father's eyes. "It will be one of the hardest things I have ever done."

"The best things are often the hardest, Greenleaf," Thranduil answered as he caressed his son's cheek.

"I must say goodbye to Celebrus and I dread it."

"As do I, Greenleaf. This pains him, there is no doubt. My decision was not easy."

Legolas smiled sadly, "As you said, the best things rarely are."

Thranduil pressed his forehead to his son's and smiled sadly.

To be continued...

Chapter 22:

Summary: Celebrus and Glorfindel depart.

Glorfindel pressed a long and lingering kiss to Thranduil's lips as he savored the feeling of the king's hands in his hair. "Mmm, a kiss to be remembered," he murmured against his beloved's mouth.

"Aye," Thranduil whispered, "one that will keep me warm through the winter."

"I shall return as soon as I can, my love."

"I know," Thranduil answered. "Take care upon the road."

"I will."

Glorfindel pulled away, taking one long look at his beloved before turning toward his horse. Thranduil looked at his son standing with Celebrus; they were holding hands, foreheads pressed together.

"Imladris is beautiful," Legolas said softly. "You will enjoy it there, I promise. I will see you next winter, when I return to the Hidden Valley." He could feel Celebrus' hands trembling in his own; his friend suddenly felt so frail.

"I will miss you, my prince," Celebrus whispered.

"I will miss you too, my fox." Legolas took a deep breath. "Will you not embrace him farewell? This pains him as much as it pains me."

"I am afraid I will not be able to let go," Celebrus whispered.

Legolas looked imploringly at his father, and Thranduil approached. "Do not leave him thus, my fox. He suffers too." He released Celebrus' hands and stepped backward as his father came to stand beside them.

"Listen to Glorfindel while upon the road, my fox. He will protect you with his life, if need be."

Celebrus turned and embraced his king, burying his face in Thranduil's hair. "I love you, my lord," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow.

Thranduil held Celebrus tight. "I love you, Celebrus. We will miss you, but we will be happy knowing you have this chance. These chances do not come often, my fox; do not squander this one."

"I will not, my lord."

"Farewell, Celebrus. Remember, you will always have a home here."

Celebrus nodded, and then mounted his stallion as Glorfindel rode alongside him.

"Are you ready, Celebrus?" the Elda asked softly.

"No, but I suppose I will never be," Celebrus answered.

Glorfindel gave a reassuring squeeze to the Silvan's knee. "Come, my friend, a new world awaits."

Legolas stepped back with his father, holding Thranduil's hand tightly as he watched his best friend and brother ride away with Glorfindel. He waited until he could no longer see them, then quickly turned and rushed inside before the tears fell.

* * * *

Night fell as they reached the Anduin Vale, and Celebrus' eyes took in an unknown world. Wide expanses of low, rolling hills, covered in a sea of grass and cut by a lazily meandering, wide river lay before them. He suddenly felt exposed, out in the open without his familiar trees to shelter him. They rode forward, his stallion nervous and excited, straining underneath him to run wild across the wide expanse of ground.

Glorfindel glanced at Celebrus' horse, feeling his own horse responding to the stallion's pent up energy. "Have you ever galloped full out across a meadow?" he asked Celebrus.

"Nay, my lord," Celebrus answered. "There is no such place at home."

Glorfindel smiled. "Lean forward, grasp handfuls of mane, and go with him; he will not lead you astray." He leaned over. "There is nothing like this, Celebrus. Do not fear it; enjoy it. Your horse will follow mine."

With that, Glorfindel's grey stallion nickered and lunged forward. Celebrus followed the elf lord's advice and squeezed with his calves, sending his own stallion surging forth. At first, it was a bit frightening: the ground flew beneath them in a blur, his horse's muscles straining and surging beneath him. He heard the wind whistling in his ears, drowning out all sound except for his own breathing and that of his stallion. Despite his fear, a smile bloomed upon his lips and soon he was laughing aloud, his horse increasing his speed in response to his master's pleasure. He squinted and spied Glorfindel's magnificent grey stallion ahead, the beast's haunches coiling and releasing, glimmering in Ithil's light, its thick silver tail flying behind it. The elf lord's cloak billowed out behind him, crowned by his flowing, golden hair.

"Catch him," he called to his stallion. "Let us show him that Mirkwood horses are just as fine."

Again, his stallion surged forth, finding yet another burst of speed. He heard the thundering roar of fifteen horses galloping behind him and he leaned forward, tucking his head down beside his stallion's neck. They caught Glorfindel and pulled alongside; Celebrus looked at the elf lord, who smiled in return. Soon they slowed to a gallop, then a canter, a trot, then finally they walked, allowing their horses to catch their breath as they approached the river.

"We must turn north to our crossing place, it is too deep here," Glorfindel answered.

A high pitched whistle came from the other side of the river, and Celebrus looked up to see twin bay horses emerge from the wood, mounted by identical Noldo lords. "Elladan and Elrohir," he murmured, and raised his hand in greeting. He could not see it, but the twins smiled broadly upon seeing their friend.

They followed each other north, the twins accompanied by their mother and Arwen on one side, Glorfindel with Celebrus and his returning soldiers on the other. Soon, they arrived at a shallow point where they crossed the river and joined their awaiting party.

Elladan and Elrohir each quickly rode over to greet Celebrus and immediately introduced him to their mother and sister. Celebrus blushed at the warm greeting he received from Arwen as the maiden leaned over and kissed his cheek. They tracked south for a short distance, and Celebrus rode silently along, his eyes fixed on the distant forest of Mirkwood.

He felt Glorfindel's hand upon his back and he turned to look at the Noldo.

"'Tis time, my friend," Glorfindel said quietly. "We ride west to the foot of the mountains, where we will camp for the night."

"Will I be able to see it?" Celebrus asked.

"Once we begin the climb in the morning, you will see it in its entirety. You will not believe how large it really is."

"I shall say goodnight then," Celebrus answered softly. "Goodnight, my lords," he said in the direction of the forest. "It will soon be farewell."

On the far side of the Anduin, a young Sinda sat upon his horse, bow and quiver strapped to his back, his horse hidden just inside the tree line. He watched a party of elves on the opposite side of the river enter the trees on horseback; he had tracked them half the night. "Good night, my fox," he whispered, as the last one, a silver-haired Silvan, disappeared from view.

* * * *

The air at the base of the mountains was cold, causing Celebrus to shiver somewhat.

"Sleep with us," Elrohir whispered into the Silvan's ear. "We promise to behave."

Celebrus smiled. "I should hope so, your mother and your sister are present."

Elladan grinned. "Come, Celebrus, we can put our bedrolls together."

Celebrus looked over at Glorfindel. "Nay, my lords, though I do thank you for the offer. I will sit up with Glorfindel as he takes watch this night. It is my new duty."

The twins looked at each other and shrugged. "Very well, Celebrus, but know we are here should you change your mind," Elrohir answered.

Celebrus smiled as the twins departed, and he crossed the camp to where Glorfindel sat upon a tall rock.

"What are you doing here?" Glorfindel queried. "You should be resting."

"I cannot sleep," Celebrus answered. "Would you object to my staying with you?"

Glorfindel turned his eyes to the mountains. "Nay, but if I tell you to leave, I want you to find a tall tree and climb it immediately."

Celebrus climbed upon the rock and sat down beside Glorfindel. "Will there be trouble?" he asked softly.

"Hopefully not," Glorfindel answered. He looked beside him and saw the young Silvan hunkering down into his cloak. Reaching out, he placed an arm around Celebrus and drew him closer. "The air here takes some getting used to."

"Aye, it is colder than at home."

"'Tis the wind."

"Manwë's breath," Celebrus answered softly.

Glorfindel smiled. "Aye. Manwë's breath, that gives Eagles flight and cleanses the sky. Look, up there."

Celebrus' gaze followed the line of Glorfindel's arm to where the Elda pointed. Above them circled two large Eagles, bigger than any birds he had ever seen before. "Eagles," he whispered in awe.

"Aye, they have always been my friends," Glorfindel murmured, "in good times, and in bad."

"Is it true that they carried you above the mountains when you . . ." his voice trailed off.

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, though I barely remember it. The last thing I saw was Thorondor's soft, tan belly. He cradled me so gently, it felt as though I were flying myself."

Celebrus wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's waist. He had never seen the elf lord be so gentle or so vulnerable.

Glorfindel smiled and leaned his head atop Celebrus'. "It will be all right, Celebrus. I know it does not seem that way now, but it will be. I promise I will take care of you."

"I believe you," Celebrus answered in a quiet whisper. "And I trust you."

To be continued...

Chapter 23:

Summary: Disaster on Redhorn Pass.

Anor had reached her apex when they crested Redhorn. Though she shone brightly overhead, the peaks of the mountains were shrouded in mist, casting long shadows upon the ground, blocking out her rays. Since they began their ascent, Glorfindel had been uneasy, as were the twins and most of his warriors. The unrest rippled through the group, until finally even Celebrus, Arwen, and the Lady Celebrían were uneasy, and when the first orc appeared, that unrest quickly turned to fear.

Before Celebrus could blink, guards surrounded him, Arwen, and Celebrían, as the twins and Glorfindel led the counter attack. The orcs seemed to sprout from fissures in the rock, appearing in front, behind and from above. Arwen and Celebrían fought to control their fearful mounts as the Noldor soldiers drew their swords. Celebrus nervously drew his bow and nocked an arrow; he had never fired upon anything other than a target in his life, and he had never fired from the back of an enraged and rearing stallion. "Easy, my friend," he called to his horse from the din of battle. The horse pawed the ground and shook its head as Celebrus aimed at his first orc.

The sound of elvish steel and orcish iron echoed in the narrow pass, bouncing off the rock face. Cries of dying elves and the guttural shrieks of dying orcs mingled with the din. His arrow flew true, striking its target and sending an orc falling to its death. His shaking hands nocked another. If he were to die this day, he would die fighting, not cowering in the shadows.

The orcs broke the line and rushed in. They pulled the Lady Celebrían from her horse as Arwen valiantly tried to fight them off. An orc grasped Arwen's dress and Celebrus turned, firing an arrow that lodged in the beast's throat, sending black blood spraying.

Celebrus heard Elrohir's enraged cry as he fought to get to his mother, who cried out desperately, trying to escape the clutching grasp of the orcs. Celebrus' horse fell beneath him, a shriek of pain escaping it before it twitched and then fell still. A large spear was lodged in its chest, and Celebrus scrambled to retrieve it. Swinging it, he struck an orc in the head, then he pulled it back and drove it through the beast's chest, spraying himself with its black blood. He turned and saw Arwen crying out, crawling across the ground to get to her mother as her horse fled the battle. An orc's hand clamped upon her ankle and she screamed, then Elladan's sword severed the beast's limb before impaling the orc.

"Celebrus!" Elladan called as he dragged Arwen away from her mother and brother, who fought savagely to reach her. He thrust his shaking and hysterical sister into the Silvan's arms. "Take her," he pointed, "over there. Hide beneath the rock!"

Celebrus did as he was ordered, struggling to drag Arwen away before she finally collapsed, overwhelmed by fright. He quickly inspected her for injuries, finding her unharmed but for a few scratches. He then heard Celebrían scream and heard Elrohir's anguished cry. He looked up to see Elrohir falling backward into his brother's arms, then he watched in horror as the beasts began tearing at Celebrían's garments.

"Sweet Elbereth," he gasped. "They mean to tear her apart." His own mother's death flashed before his eyes, and he looked to see a bloodied sword lying in a dead Noldo's hand near their feet.

Glorfindel arrived, bloodied, and joined Elladan and two remaining Noldo in rescuing Celebrían before it was too late. Never had he seen anything so savage. Elladan, believing his twin to be mortally wounded and his mother about to be murdered before his eyes, hacked through the orcs as though hacking through brush. Glorfindel, upon removing an orc's head, threw it at another orc, knocking it off balance, then he heaved the headless body at them, knocking two to the ground. Grabbing a fourth, he slit its throat, shoving it aside with a kick. The elf lord Celebrus had known in Mirkwood seemed to be no more as Glorfindel slaughtered one orc after another with unbelievable rage.

Celebrus crawled out from beneath the overhanging rock and reached for the sword laying near his feet when he was snatched off the ground before his fingers could close around its hilt. Kicking and punching, he tried to fight off the beast, his knuckles bloodied by its rough armor. Suddenly, the orc grew rigid and dropped him, and he fell, rolling, bouncing off rock, then the ground fell from beneath him and a hand closed around his wrist. He looked down; the ground was far, far beneath him; and he looked up and saw Glorfindel's face.

"Not this day," the Elda growled. "You do not die this day, not while I live."

Glorfindel slipped, trying to hold himself back from the edge of the cliff with one hand.

Tears stung Celebrus' eyes. "Let me go," he said. "We will both fall."

"No, I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

"Please," Celebrus said quietly. "You cannot die, he cannot live without you."

"No," Glorfindel answered as he slipped again.

"Let me fall."

Glorfindel whistled and his stallion approached, reaching down and grasping the elf lord's belt in its teeth. The proud beast began tugging them backward, slowly dragging Glorfindel away from the edge of the cliff. Celebrus scrambled to grasp the edge and climb up, quickly crawling backward once he reached the top. Glorfindel wearily gained his feet and extended his hand to Celebrus. Celebrus was pulled to his feet and embraced Glorfindel.

Glorfindel held the shaking elf for a moment and said, "We must hurry, Celebrus. Celebrían and Elrohir have been gravely injured. We must leave this place before the orcs return."

They returned to the site of the battle to find only two of Glorfindel's soldiers left alive out of fifteen. Arwen was holding her unconscious mother and weeping. Celebrían's bloodied and limp form was pale. Elrohir groaned as Elladan tightened the bandage around his chest and one of his warriors applied pressure to the wound. There were five horses left; Celebrus' stallion, a gift from his beloved prince, lay dead. There was no time to weep over the fallen animal as he was quickly whisked up onto Elrohir's mare, with Arwen seated behind him, holding tight to his waist. Glorfindel took Celebrían, Elladan took Elrohir, and the eight remaining elves quickly departed the scene.

* * * *

It all happened so quickly. They raced down the mountain and across the meadows toward the Last Homely House, pushing their battle-weary mounts to their limits. They arrived, horses panting and lathered, as elves rushed forth. The two soldiers, riding solo, had traveled ahead bringing word of the battle upon the mountain. Amongst the confusion, Celebrus saw an elf, who could only be Lord Elrond, rush forth, torn between his wounded son and unconscious wife, then Elrond took Celebrían and rushed inside, followed by his children and Erestor.

The world seemed to spin and Celebrus reached out blindly to find Glorfindel, who caught him in his arms. "Easy, young one," the Elda murmured.

"What just happened?" Celebrus whispered. "How could this have happened?"

Glorfindel swept him up in his arms and carried him inside the Last Homely House.

* * * *

Celebrus awoke in Glorfindel's bed to a house in mourning. At first, he feared the lady and Elrohir dead, but soon found out from the chambermaid that they lived still. He had slept for one turning of Anor and Ithil, and it was past the dinner hour on the second day when he rose. He had been bathed and given a sleeping robe; his own belongings were in his pack that lay beside his dead horse in the mountains. He had nothing from home now, nothing except the delicate anklet that still encircled his leg.

As the chambermaid left, he burst into tears, clutching a pillow to his chest as the events of the past days finally sank in. Memories of his parents' fall, pain upon the loss of those few things he had to link him to his home, specifically his beloved stallion, the yearning he felt for the arms of his king and his prince, all seemed too much to bear.

The tears slowly subsided and he lay upon his side, gazing out at the moonlit waterfalls of Imladris. In any other circumstances, he would have been awed by the beauty of this place, but now he was too weary and too wracked with grief to appreciate it. Slowly, he rose and approached the table, where the chambermaid had left behind a tray with a bowl of hot stew and a goblet filled with a clear, sweet smelling liquid. He sat down and distractedly began to eat, driven only by hunger. He drank down the liquid and immediately felt better, as it seemed to restore his energy.

He walked around the room, his fingertips caressing Glorfindel's belongings, trying to learn who his new master was through those things the Elda owned. Some hours later, the door opened and Glorfindel appeared, battered and covered in dried blood, the grime on his face streaked by the path of fallen tears. Celebrus approached silently and took Glorfindel's hand, leading him to the bath. He lit a fire in the boiler and then began undressing the silent and listless Noldo. Tossing the fouled clothing aside, he removed the warrior's braids, carefully working through the matted and soiled golden hair with a smooth wooden comb. He then picked up a boar's hairbrush and began drawing it through Glorfindel's hair in smooth strokes.

Grasping a phial of bath oil, he pumped steaming water into the tub and poured oil upon the surface, then he helped a weary Glorfindel into the bath. He hummed quietly as he sat on a low stool beside the tub, working a sponge over the Noldo's bruised and reddened chest. He ran a small sieve across the surface of the water, removing the filth trapped by the oils, then he poured fresh oil in and left Glorfindel to soak.

Sometime later, before the water grew cold, Celebrus returned, a towel folded over his arm. He helped Glorfindel out of the bath and dried him before wrapping him in a warm, soft robe. Leading the warrior to the table, he bid him eat while he turned down the bed and stoked the fire, then closed the doors leading to the veranda outside.

He helped Glorfindel into his bed and turned to a divan nearby, where he had placed some blankets and a pillow, when Glorfindel caught his wrist. "No, here," the elf lord whispered. "I want you to sleep here with me."

Celebrus nodded then climbed into the bed. To his surprise, Glorfindel rolled into his arms and rested his head upon his chest. The courtesan held the warrior in his arms and stroked his hair as Glorfindel cried himself to sleep.

* * * *

Celebrus awoke to the feeling of Glorfindel's breath upon his neck and the Noldo's hand slowly stroking his hip. He canted his head, looking down at the crown of the elf lord's golden head.

"Do I ask too much?" Glorfindel whispered. "I only want something to replace this grief."

Celebrus slid down further into the bed so that he could look into Glorfindel's eyes. "No, my lord," he whispered. "You do not ask too much. There is nothing that is too much to ask in return for you saving my life."

"I do not want you to do this out of gratitude," Glorfindel responded. "I want you to want this too."

"I do," Celebrus whispered against Glorfindel's lips. "We both seek escape from the pain we feel."

"Then let us escape together," Glorfindel responded, then he took Celebrus' mouth in a deep kiss.

They made love slowly, drawing out the act for as long as their weary bodies could stand. Glorfindel was tender, loving in the way he touched Celebrus, wholly different from the way he had taken him the first time, which had been hungry and lustful. When they finished, they lay in one another's arms and watched Anor rise above the mountains in the east.

To be continued...

Chapter 24:

Summary: Celebrus tries to find his way and Legolas loses his.

Celebrus followed Glorfindel, shadowing him through the halls of the Last Homely House. He had long ago learned to be invisible when the time called for it, and it appeared that time was now. One by one, he watched as Glorfindel delivered the news of a fallen soldier's death to a loved one, most typically a spouse, and often one who had elflings. He admired the Elda's dignity as he held the weeping mates, male and female alike, and assured them that their fallen loves had earned a much better life with which to await their mate's arrival in Aman.

After the final door closed behind them, Celebrus stepped up and took Glorfindel's hand, looking up at the weary warrior's face.

"You should rest," he said quietly. "After all you have been through these last few days."

Glorfindel looked down at the waif of a Silvan that held his much larger hand. "I am afraid I cannot," he said softly. "Every time I close my eyes, I see..."

Celebrus nodded and squeezed Glorfindel's hand as he watched the Elda look up at the ceiling. "I know," he answered, "I know what you see. I saw it too after my parents died, both with open eyes and shut."

"I am no stranger to horror," Glorfindel replied in a low, sorrow-filled voice. "I watched my kin die in Gondolin. I suppose I just hoped that it would be the last time I witnessed such a thing."

Celebrus walked alongside Glorfindel as they exited the auxiliary wing of the large and sprawling Last Homely House and entered a small, well-tended garden. "Why are you here?" he asked softly. "You had earned a new life in Aman. Why did you come back?"

"I was sent back, to aid those I had left behind when I fell." Glorfindel pondered his answer then continued, "Rather, I was asked to come back, and I agreed."

"To serve Lord Elrond?"

"Aye, to serve the grandson of my Liege Lord. I died so that Eärendil might survive." He looked up into the night sky, his eyes lighting upon the brightest star. "And he does. Now it is time for me to serve the son of the Blessed One."

"Glorfindel!"

The pair turned to see Erestor approaching quickly.

"What is it? Has something happened?" Glorfindel asked with his heart in his throat. He knew that Elrond still battled the darkness that had taken root in his lovely wife's spirit since the attack.

Erestor embraced the Elda tightly as Celebrus stepped back into the shadows, disappearing once again.

"By Elbereth, I am so very glad you are alive!" the counselor breathed. "With all the turmoil of these last few days, I have just now found the time to seek you out." He stepped back but kept his hands on Glorfindel's shoulders.

Glorfindel smiled wearily. "Aye, my friend. I live still. It appears I am not the easiest elf to kill."

Erestor grinned. "For that I am truly thankful."

"How fares our lady?"

Erestor's grin faded. "Not well, but Elrond has grounded her soul within her body. Only time will tell if she heals as well on the inside as she has on the outside."

"And what of our fair masters?"

"Elrohir is recovering, but it will be some time before he sits a horse or wields a sword. Elladan, however, is nearly ready to collapse. The battle has wounded his spirit, if not his body. I fear he carries guilt, and Elrohir's near death was almost the end of him."

"I should come see them," Glorfindel said softly.

"In time, my friend. It will do none of us good to see you collapse from fatigue."

"Yes, Celebrus said..." the Elda began.

"Celebrus? Who is this Celebrus?" Erestor asked, his raven brow arched in query.

Glorfindel looked around him and finally saw his charge standing in the shadows, his silver head bowed. He held out his hand. "Celebrus, come here, my friend."

Celebrus stepped forward reluctantly, inwardly cursing the coloring of his cheeks and the trembling of his damp hands. Glorfindel placed his hand upon Celebrus' slender back and said, "This is Erestor, my good friend and Chief Counselor to Lord Elrond."

Erestor tried to get a glimpse of the Silvan's hidden face, but the elf seemed reluctant to look at him. He extended his hand. "Welcome to Imladris, Celebrus. I but wish you could have arrived during happier times."

Celebrus quickly and inconspicuously wiped his palm upon his thigh and then accepted the Noldo's proffered hand. "Thank you, my lord," he said softly.

Erestor canted his head sideways, trying to catch more than a glimpse of the Silvan's face. "Come you from Mirkwood?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Where you were..."

"A member of the King's Court," Glorfindel answered quickly. "You will forgive my friend, Erestor. This is his first venture out of the great forest, and it was under less than perfect circumstances."

"Of course," Erestor said, slowly releasing the Silvan's hand. "Forgive me, it must have been a harrowing experience." He looked back at Glorfindel. "Well, I will leave you to your friend," he said softly. "I should see how the twins fare."

Glorfindel nodded and watched Erestor depart the garden, casting one sidelong glance over his shoulder at Celebrus before the doors closed behind him. "Erestor is a curious sort," he said quietly as he guided Celebrus back down the path toward another wing of the sprawling house.

Celebrus said nothing, but took Glorfindel's hand in his own and held to it tightly. Glorfindel looked down at his charge, then drew him closer, wrapping an arm around the Silvan's shoulders. "I think you are right, Celebrus. I could use one of your healing massages and a good night's rest."

Celebrus leaned his head against Glorfindel's chest. "I will be happy to oblige you, my lord."

* * * *

The patrol returned from the border in the driving rain. Thranduil entered the courtyard, eagerly seeking his son. Legolas dropped from his mare, shaking the water out of his hair, and stalked toward the entrance to the caves. He left the captain standing behind him, arms crossed and head shaking in exasperation.

Legolas brushed past his father and continued toward the residence, leaving a stunned Thranduil in his wake.

"I thought I was going to have to tie him up and throw him over the back of my horse," the captain said quietly as he approached his king. "He all but refused to heed your call, even after twice the typical length on patrol. I am worried about him, my lord. He has always been a dedicated warrior, but his dedication looks to have turned to blood-lust."

Thranduil nodded and watched as his son disappeared into the darkness. "I shall speak with him. I fear he harbors anger toward me for sending Celebrus away."

"It is not uncommon for young warriors to channel frustration at life into their fighting," the captain answered, a hint of a grin on his lips.

Thranduil turned and looked at the elder soldier and smiled. "Aye, you know this well. Do you not?"

The captain nodded. "You were more than a handful upon your return from Mordor, my lord."

Thranduil patted the old soldier on the shoulder. "And I know I tested your patience, my old friend. I am thankful now for that patience, and for your wisdom, even if I was not wise enough myself to recognize it then."

The captain smiled. "See to your son, my lord. He is like a pot preparing to boil over."

Thranduil nodded and headed for Legolas' chambers.

The king found his son kicking his sheathed knives into the corner as he flung his quiver upon the table. Thranduil closed the door behind him and stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Now then, who is this surly and impudent elf who has taken up residence in my bright, good-hearted son's room?"

"Was that supposed to be a jest?" Legolas grumbled as he turned to face his father.

"Legolas, I am nearing the end of my patience with this extended temper tantrum. I had little patience with these when you were young, and I have less now."

Legolas placed his hands on his hips. "Temper tantrum? Are you accusing me of behaving like an elfling?"

"If the boot fits..."

"And I suppose you are the only one who is allowed to have his cake and eat it too? I do not see you reprimanding yourself for sharing Celebrus with your lover as though he were no more than a common..."

Legolas did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence, for his father slapped him soundly across the face. Stunned, he held the back of his hand to his jaw, his head still turned, his eyes darkening with anger as he stared at the floor.

"You miss him, I know this," Thranduil answered. "I miss him too, but I will not have you use this as an excuse to lower yourself this way. You will not speak to me in that manner. Do you understand?"

"Oh, I understand," Legolas replied in a menacing tone. "'Tis my duty to be servile until the day comes when I rule these lands."

"Be careful what you wish for, my son," Thranduil said evenly. "For that day will come upon my death."

Before Legolas could take back his words, he turned to see his father's back disappear behind a closed door.

* * * *

The weeks passed slowly. Celebrus watched the world outside turn white as snow fell in thick drifts. Celebrían healed, but no one saw her outside her private chambers. Arwen tended to her daily, as did Elrond, and while the lady was whole on the outside, it was clear to anyone who did see her that she was fading on the inside. Elrohir was well enough to venture outside his chambers within a week, but he still seemed pale and shaky. Celebrus visited often, tending to the twins as best he could, but he knew all too well how long it took a broken heart to heal. None of Elrond's family would be the same, not ever again.

Glorfindel was gently trying to nudge Celebrus from the safety of his presence, but the Silvan was reluctant to strike out on his own. Glorfindel could hardly blame him; Celebrus' one venture outside of his home had begun with disaster. He had suggested that Celebrus work in the library alongside Erestor, since Thranduil had indicated that would be a good place for him, but the Silvan blanched at the suggestion and quickly refused. Glorfindel could not possibly understand Celebrus' reluctance to working with Erestor, for his best friend had shown the newcomer every courtesy. Yet, each time they encountered Erestor, Celebrus acted as though he were encountering Sauron himself.

Glorfindel hated to admit it, but he was becoming increasingly used to Celebrus' attentions, and few around him understood it. The soldiers under his command were beginning to murmur under their breaths that Glorfindel had brought Mirkwood customs home with him. It was not long before many knew just what Celebrus had been at home and assumed he was the same in Imladris, only with a new master. Everyone knew warriors had hot blood, and Glorfindel's was hotter than most.

As Glorfindel sat in front of the fire, he looked down at Celebrus, who sat so elegantly on his heels, hands resting on his thighs, head bowed and eyes focused on the fire. He swirled the rich amber liquid in his glass and took a sip before placing the glass on a small table beside his chair. Reaching out, he picked up a lock of silver hair, as straight as an arrow and as soft as silk. Slowly, Celebrus turned his head, heavy-lidded aqua-blue eyes regarded their new master with a deep, smoldering sensuality.

Oh yes, Glorfindel thought, this one was trained well. Each movement was an invitation, an enticement. Something as simple as the turning of a head was a slow, sensual dance of seduction. He watched as Celebrus moved from his seated position to his hands and knees, then he watched the courtesan crawl the short distance to him.

Celebrus' hands softly crept up his thighs, long, elegant fingers slowly peeling away the loose robe the Elda wore.

"What are you doing?" the warrior asked.

"What I have always done," Celebrus answered.

"Why?"

"Because it is what I do and because it is what you want."

"My heart..." Glorfindel began.

"Your heart has little to do with this," Celebrus answered.

Glorfindel's head fell back and his eyes fluttered closed, a deep moan escaping him as he was engulfed by a warm, wet mouth.

To be continued...

Chapter 25:

Summary: Thranduil gets to the bottom of things and things begin to change in Imladris.

Thranduil entered the training ring in time to watch his son disarm a fellow warrior and nearly cleave him in two. The young warrior dropped and rolled, narrowly avoiding the tip of the sharp blade as it swung in a large arc. Several of the onlookers gained their feet, but then they looked at each other in shock, unable to decide what to do.

"Legolas!" Thranduil barked, and then he jumped back. The tip of the blade caught his tunic, splitting it but not marring his skin. Audible gasps escaped the shocked onlookers - Legolas had nearly hacked his father in two. Faster than anyone could follow, Thranduil stepped forward, planting one foot between Legolas' feet as he grasped the hilt of the sword, covering his son's hands with his own and turning the tip to the ground.

His heart constricted as struggled to hold the tip of the sword on the ground and he looked into the rage-darkened eyes of his only child. "Out!" he shouted to the onlookers. "Leave us." The crowd disappeared, leaving him alone with Legolas in the cavernous training arena. He wrenched the weapon from his son's hands and tossed it aside. "If you must take your anger out on me, so be it. But I will be damned if I will make it easy on you. Go on, hit me!" he shouted.

Legolas cried out with a mixture of anger and anguish, then fell to his knees in the sand. Thranduil knelt beside his son and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Greenleaf," he said softly.

Legolas leaned forward against his father's chest as he began to weep. "Forgive me, father," he whispered, his voice thick with tears. "I am just so angry..."

"I know you love Celebrus, but I cannot understand..."

"It is not that, though I do love him and miss him terribly."

"What is it then? Have you not always been able to tell me everything?"

"I am filled with guilt and self-loathing for what I have done, both to Celebrus and to Erestor. I have been so selfish. You were right to send him away."

Thranduil nodded slowly as he rubbed his son's back. "We all make mistakes, Greenleaf. No one is perfect. Do not be so hard upon yourself."

"I have said such awful things to you," Legolas continued.

"I did not believe them," Thranduil answered. "I knew it was pain making you say those things. I know this is difficult, Greenleaf. You and Celebrus have always been close; you have always shared a special bond."

"I was jealous," Legolas said softly. "I wanted to be his first, yet he chose you."

"He chose me because I made him feel safe, because I was always the one he turned to when he felt lost or afraid."

"You were the one who saved his life. You were the one who gave him another."

"So did you, Legolas," Thranduil said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his son's head. "You did not have to take him in, yet you did, without hesitation. I have never been more proud in my life. You have always treated him with kindness and love, and he has always felt like a part of our family."

"What will become of him, Father?" Legolas asked as he looked into his father's eyes.

"Love, I hope," Thranduil answered. "Do not worry, Greenleaf. Something tells me we will see him again." He slowly gained his feet, bringing Legolas with him. "Now come, let us clean you up and then you have an apology to make to that young warrior you nearly split in two.

"Galen," Legolas whispered. "Please tell me I did not hurt him."

"No," Thranduil answered. "But I think you gave him the fright of his life."

Legolas followed his father into the caves, his head bowed in shame.

* * * *

Glorfindel opened his eyes and arched against the bed. He focused his lust-darkened gaze upon the lithe, bowed form of Celebrus as the courtesan rocked and undulated upon his lap. The Silvan's hair swayed about his shoulders, his lean chest gleaming with sweat, his dusky nipples erect. Slowly he moved, rising, falling, their moans softly echoing in Glorfindel's bedchamber.

He was buried to the hilt inside Celebrus' tight body as it seductively moved upon his lap, taking him in then withdrawing before taking him in again. The spoils of a king, he had heard someone say of this young beauty. A prize, afforded to those who were born under the right star. But Celebrus was much more than that. Even as Glorfindel gripped the elf's slender hips, feeling his release building inside him, he knew that Celebrus was far more than a prize.

Celebrus' moans were increasing in intensity, as were Glorfindel's own. Glorfindel sat up and pulled the Silvan's legs out from underneath him, bringing him down deeper into his lap.

Celebrus gasped as he was impaled upon the Elda's length, and he arched into Glorfindel's strong arms. He clutched at the Noldo's strong back as he raised his legs, a whimpering cry escaping him as stars exploded behind his eyes.

"So beautiful," Glorfindel murmured against the Silvan's sweat-slicked neck as he lowered him to the bed. "I understand now, why he loves you so much, why they both love you so much. If my heart did not already belong to another..."

Celebrus buried his hands in Glorfindel's thick golden mane. "And I understand why he loves you," he whispered into the warrior's ear. "Why he wanted you from the very beginning. The risk he took that first night..."

Celebrus' silky, seductive voice, his long legs wrapped high around Glorfindel's waist, the way the courtesan's soft lips caressed the curve of his ear as he began thrusting deeper and harder into his pliant, willing body was more than Glorfindel could take. He thrust deep and growled as he spilled inside Celebrus, and the courtesan cried out, the final thrust sending him over the edge as well. Glorfindel lay upon the Silvan, his fingers interlaced with those of Celebrus as he held the courtesan's hands over his head. How used to this he could become, he thought distractedly; the soft glide of Celebrus' inner thighs on his hips, the warm caress of the courtesan's lips upon the curve of his ear, the soft, sultry tone of his voice as he purred in contentment. Someone, some lucky elf would someday win this Silvan's heart and live a life of beauty and love.

"Am I too heavy for you?" Glorfindel asked from a half-sleeping, half-waking state.

Celebrus laughed softly, the sultry sound briefly causing Glorfindel's softening length to twitch. "Nay, my warrior," Celebrus murmured, his tongue flicking out and teasing the point of the Noldo's ear. "I am not as delicate as I appear."

"Mmm..." Glorfindel murmured. "I could stay here all night, you feel so good."

Celebrus drew his foot up the back of the warrior's thigh. "You would be more than welcome to do just that," he whispered.

"You are a tempter, a wicked tempter," Glorfindel murmured as he slid closer to the land of dreams.

"I have been called worse," Celebrus answered softly.

"You will not be again, not while I live."

"My protector," Celebrus whispered huskily into the Noldo's ear. "My Balrog Slayer..."

"Thranduil called me that," Glorfindel murmured.

"I know," Celebrus answered, as Glorfindel slipped into reverie, wrapped in his arms.

* * * *

Erestor stared out the window at the midnight sky. Bare tree branches glistened as though encased in glass, and softly, silently, delicate white flakes fell from the sky. He sighed quietly, and slowly, rhythmically drew a length of heavy, sable hair through his fingers.

How did such things come to pass? And where would these things lead? These were but a few questions he asked himself as he tried to understand how he and Elladan came to be together a second time. This time there was no drink to blame. This time, there was only Elladan's need finding his own. Would Legolas understand? Doubtful. How could his young love understand when he did not himself? Did he love Legolas any less? No. In fact, he loved him more than ever. His yearning for the prince was palpable. Yet, here he was, holding Elladan's sated and naked form in his arms, stroking the peredhel's hair as his unlikely bedmate slept peacefully for the first time since Elrohir was wounded.

Celebrían would leave; Erestor knew this. She was no longer strong enough to bear the ills of this world and she needed the shelter of Aman if she were to ever be truly alive again. He knew how much this pained Elrond and their children, yet Elrond would rather live an eternity without her by his side than suffer the grief that would come with her death. Elrond's time here was not done, though what it was his lord was supposed to do was unknown to Erestor. All three children would also remain behind. Erestor was not surprised that the twins chose to stay, but Arwen. . . this surprised him. Of the three children, she was closest to her mother; yet, still, she chose to stay for some unknown purpose.

Life will never be the same again, for any of us, Erestor thought. Their days of feeling invincible, their hard won days of happy ease were gone now. Again, Erestor's thoughts wandered back to his time in Mirkwood. It made no difference to him now that Thranduil's letter validated his suspicions. The One Ring still existed, and a Sinda King probably knew where it was. Though Thranduil admitted to this knowledge, he still did not divulge the Ring's last known whereabouts. Old suspicions run deep, Erestor supposed. All of the Noldor in Middle-earth would forever pay for the sins of a few so long ago.

'Kinslayer', 'Betrayer', 'Damned One'. . . he had heard them all and had them all thrown at him like weapons. It did not matter that neither he nor Glorfindel had taken part in those ill deeds, and few knew of their arrival that came too late to both Alqualondë and Doriath. Few saw their bloodied hands as they tried to aid those who had been left for dead.

Elladan mumbled softly in his sleep and shifted, the peredhel's warm, full lips caressing Erestor's chest. Erestor closed his eyes and felt Elladan's inner thigh brush against his sated length. It was hard to believe that this soft skin, these silky lips and heavy, luxurious hair belonged to a body sculpted by killing, that these hands that so gently caressed his skin could tear a body apart. Erestor worried for Elladan, his charge who so keenly felt his humanness, who was so prone to impetuous acts and who could so easily become consumed by rage. Elrohir was different, closer to his elven kin, more compassionate. Elladan, while by no means cruel, had hotter blood, which explained why he chose to spend so much time among his human kin. The Northmen loved the twins as their own, and Erestor feared that the twins might forsake Imladris and join with the Northern Dúnedain to hunt the beasts that defiled their mother

Slowly, Elladan's head lifted, and Erestor found himself gazing into large, bottomless grey eyes. A gentle smile curved full lips and those lips reached for him, finding his mouth and thoroughly tasting it. The peredhel moved against him as soft moans began to emanate from deep in his chest.

"You taste so good, Erestor," Elladan murmured against his mouth. "Take me again..."

"It has been naught an hour since I did so last," Erestor answered quietly. "I do not want to hurt you."

Elladan smiled. "You would never hurt me, Erestor. Please..." he whispered, then lapped at the counselor's lips. "Please," he whispered again, as he pressed his length into Erestor's groin. "Please..."

Erestor took Elladan's face in his hands, kissing his one-time student thoroughly as he rolled him over and pressed him into the bed. While it was not Legolas, it was some measure of comfort, and it was one he loved, even if it was not one he was in love with.

To be continued...

Chapter 26:

Summary: Glorfindel struggles to reconcile what he wants with what he needs to do. Two more Elves of Imladris make Celebrus' acquaintance.

Glorfindel looked up from the drudgery of paperwork to watch Celebrus polish his weapons. It was clear the elf was no warrior by the way he held the broadsword. His long, elegant fingers slowly turned the hilt as he drew the thick leather rag along the blade, ensuring not too much oil was left behind. The old weapon gleamed as though it was newly forged, without so much as a hint of the countless quantities of blood it had spilled through the last and current age.

He felt the Silvan's gaze upon him and his eyes refocused from the gleam of silver to the inner glow of pale, blue orbs. Slowly, lids framed by thick, pale lashes lowered then raised again, and soft, pink lips gently curved into a delicious smile. Glorfindel was smiling back, though he was barely aware of it. What magic did this waif possess? Had Celebrus somehow been given this power by Thranduil?

"Does this meet your satisfaction, my lord?" Celebrus asked softly, his melodious voice making Glorfindel feel warm inside.

"Very much," Glorfindel replied. "That sword has not looked so good in over an age."

"I am glad it pleases you," Celebrus responded. "My happiness lies in the utmost execution of my duty."

"And what is your duty, Celebrus?" Glorfindel asked.

"To serve you, my lord. To keep you happy and hale until you can be reunited with your beloved."

"And what of you then?"

"My happiness lies in yours, and in my king's."

"That seems a poor payment. Do you not deserve happiness of your own?"

"This is my happiness," Celebrus answered.

Glorfindel slowly turned the quill between his fingers. He did not know what to do with Celebrus. It would be so easy to ignore this question, to return home each night to a blazing fire and a warm bath, to allow soft hands to ease his tired muscles, to make love in delicious and exciting ways every night as he had done the duration of the winter. It would be so easy to ignore his conscience and listen only to his selfish nature, to continue to take all that Celebrus gave him until he could be with his heart's true mate again.

Thranduil. His golden king: beautiful, strong, and stubborn; Gods, how he loved Thranduil. Who else would have given him such gifts? Who else would have given him Celebrus and given him his heart? Ah, but Celebrus was not a gift; Celebrus was his charge. Thranduil's last words echoed in his mind. "He deserves what we have..." Indeed, Celebrus did. But how to convince the Silvan of that?

Only when Celebrus' eyes moved to the door did Glorfindel realize they were not alone. He had not heard the approaching footsteps or the sound of the door opening. Clearly, this Silvan was proving to be a formidable distraction. Looking toward the door, he saw Gildor, his old friend. A broad smile curved his lips and he rose from his chair, moving from behind his desk to greet the elf with a hearty embrace.

"Gildor! My old friend. 'Tis so good to see you."

Gildor smiled as he clapped Glorfindel on the back. "'Tis good to see you as well, Glorfindel, it has been too long." He stepped back and looked at the Silvan beauty who slowly rose from the chair. Gildor remarked that even something as simple as standing could look like an exquisite dance when one possessed the grace that this elf had. "And who is this?"

"Forgive me," Glorfindel answered. "This is Celebrus; he has come to live with us for a while from Mirkwood. It appears I have finally received my own assistant."

Gildor chuckled. "Rising in the ranks, are we?" he teased. He crossed the short distance to where Celebrus stood and extended his hand. "Well met, Celebrus. You have the fortunate, or perhaps it is unfortunate, pleasure of being Glorfindel's first assistant. It is quite the dubious honor."

Celebrus smiled and accepted the offered hand. "I see my honor as most fortunate, my lord, for Glorfindel is a good and noble elf, and a most generous master." Celebrus spied the slight coloring of Glorfindel's cheeks upon hearing such a compliment.

A quick rap upon the door interrupted the conversation and the trio gazed upon the elf who entered. Celebrus immediately recognized him as one of his own, as Silvan kin. The elf was tall but slender, with straight, silver hair braided back from his delicate face. His hands were tucked inside the large sleeves of his cloak and snowflakes adorned his bare head and seemed to cling to his lashes. Large, pale blue eyes regarded the three quickly, but rested upon those of Celebrus.

Glorfindel smiled. "Lindir, what brings you down here from the library?"

Lindir's gaze shifted from the stranger to Glorfindel. "Master Erestor bid me fetch you, Lord Glorfindel. Lord Elrond has requested your presence in his offices."

Glorfindel nodded. "Of course, I will be there straight away."

Lindir bowed his head, cast one long glance at the stranger, and then disappeared into the falling snow outside.

"Gildor, will you see that Celebrus is entertained while I seek my lord?"

"Certainly," Gildor answered.

Celebrus watched as Glorfindel disappeared through the doorway, then turned his gaze to Gildor. The Noldo was stoking the fire and Celebrus quickly sized him up. A warrior, that was obvious. But there was something different about him; he seemed old and tired, and haunted. Celebrus sat down and picked up a knife, applying oil to the blade as Gildor took the chair across the low table from him.

"You look as though you have done that before," Gildor said softly.

"Aye. 'Tis one of the duties I performed for my king at home."

"Knowing the value of one's purpose is important, I think," Gildor answered.

Celebrus smiled and nodded. "Most important, my lord."

"You dance."

Celebrus looked at Gildor in surprise. "Aye, I do. How..."

"You also sing."

Celebrus nodded.

Gildor spied a small, fading love bite that peeked from beneath the Silvan's collar. "You were Thranduil's courtesan."

Celebrus gasped. "How did you know this?"

"It has been my purpose to be observant, and I have had ages to perfect it."

Celebrus looked at the floor, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the small cottage that housed Glorfindel's office, far away from the main dwelling.

Gildor crossed his legs. "You have nothing to fear from me, young one. I hold no judgment of you, nor would I expect, or ask for anything."

"Of course not," Celebrus murmured. "I am an oddity, am I not? One who chooses to give my body to others so freely?"

"It is a custom that has long disappeared from other Elven cultures, though the Sindar have their own ways."

"I am not ashamed of it," Celebrus answered, his chin lifted in defiance.

"You should not be," Gildor answered. "No choice freely made, no duty chosen and performed well is something to be ashamed of. Unless..."

Celebrus saw the elf lord's eyes dim and he asked, "Unless what, my lord?"

"Unless it is one that brings only harm. Please, call me Gildor. I have never been comfortable with titles."

Celebrus smiled gently. "Of course, Gildor. Forgive me if I seemed . . . defensive."

Gildor cocked his head. "No offense taken, my friend. Tell me, now that you are in Imladris, what new duty will you take upon yourself?"

"I serve Glorfindel," Celebrus answered. "With my king's blessing."

"Of course. Glorfindel loves Thranduil too much to ever do anything to put that love in jeopardy."

"Of course," Celebrus murmured.

"But certainly, now that you live in a new world there must be something you have always wanted to do but have not yet."

Celebrus shook his head. "I am content, my . . . Gildor."

"Content is a good way to be, Celebrus," Gildor answered. "'Tis been many a year since I have felt contentment."

"What would you need to be content?"

"Pardon."

"For what and from whom?"

Gildor closed his eyes. "'Tis a long and sad tale, my friend. One I shall not bother you with this day." He rose from his chair. "Fetch your cloak, Celebrus."

Celebrus rose to his feet. "Where are we going?"

"For a ride in the snow. I want to show you something."

Celebrus allowed Gildor to wrap the cloak around his shoulders and pull the hood up to cover his head. "I do not have a horse. Mine perished in the mountains on the journey over."

"Well, then we shall have to find you one. Come," Gildor answered, as he took the Silvan's hand and led him from Glorfindel's office.

To be continued...

Chapter 27:

Summary: Gildor takes Celebrus for a ride.

"To whom do these horses belong?" Celebrus asked as he surveyed the small herd. They came in every size and every coat color known to man or elf. Some were old, some were young, and there were many mares heavy with foal.

"No one," Gildor answered, "except for the pregnant mares. Most of them have stewards."

"They are wild?"

"The are not wild, they are free, Celebrus," Gildor answered. "Many of these horses have not yet found their masters. This is the herd from which the warriors of Imladris draw their mounts."

"They will be war horses," Celebrus murmured. He shifted upon the gelding's back. It was cold outside and the snow was beginning to fall heavily, yet he did not notice the chill. Gildor sat close behind him; the length of the Noldo's thighs stretched against his own, the elf lord's groin was snug against his backside. A strong arm encircled his waist, though there was no further need of it since they were now on flat, solid ground. He found himself leaning back against the strong chest, finding it solid and comforting. Despite their position, there was nothing sensual about the contact of their bodies. It was simply one elf holding another, and it made Celebrus feel safe and strangely comfortable.

"Not all will be war horses," Gildor answered quietly, his warm breath ghosting the curve of Celebrus' ear. "One day, one will be yours."

Celebrus turned his head to regard the ancient elf lord who held him so surely. Snowflakes falling on his face caused him to blink and reach up to wipe them away; this caused Gildor to smile. The Noldo's smile made Celebrus feel warm inside, but not in the usual way. Something about this handsome, fair-haired elf drew him in and made him want to know more about him. There was a sadness in his eyes, a yearning, but for what, Celebrus did not know.

Gildor looked up, blinking against the now heavily falling snow. "We will not make it back," he said quietly. "Anor is setting and the ground will soon turn to ice. As sure footed as my mount is, even he might slip climbing the hills." He looked at Celebrus, who did not seem worried in the least. "I know a place where we can find shelter tonight. We can return to the Last Homely House in the morning."

The horses began to stir, leaving the patches of roots they had found buried beneath the snow and heading for the cover of the thick forest. Celebrus listened to the frozen ground crunching beneath their feet and watched the puffs of steam that issued from their breath.

"It is getting cold," Celebrus murmured as he shivered. "I fear Glorfindel will be worried about me."

Gildor smiled. "No doubt he will miss you, but his captain saw us leave together. He will not worry as long as you are with me."

Gildor eased his gelding into a walk, and the large horse carefully picked his way across the frozen ground until they entered the forest. There, almost buried behind a snowdrift, was a small doorway, which led into the side of a tall mound surrounded by trees. Gildor dismounted, leaving Celebrus to sit atop his woolly gelding, and cleared a pathway to the door. "Come," he called, holding out his hand.

Celebrus slid from the horse's back and made his way to where Gildor stood. "What about your horse?" he said quietly.

Gildor smiled. "He will find the herd and return to us come morning. Do not worry about him, he will be fine."

Celebrus entered the dark chamber and all light was blocked out as the door closed behind them. He jumped slightly as Gildor's hands came to rest on his shoulders, then he felt the elf lord squeeze past him. Soon, a lantern was lit and Celebrus took in his surroundings.

A small cot rested against one wall, and on the opposite wall, a burlap sack hung. There was a small, crude fireplace, a rough-hewn table and chair, and some old, metal plates alongside an iron kettle. A rough cabinet hung on one wall, and inside it were sealed jars with different herbs and one with dried strips of meat. The walls were made of smoothed and compacted mud, which had hardened over time to make a plaster. The floor was also dirt, and it too was smooth and hard from ages of use.

"This used to be a guard house, back in the Second Age when this valley was founded," Gildor said quietly as he began lighting the few lanterns in the place. He set his small pack down. "The flets still exist in the trees through this wood, though the border has long since been pushed further north. As the horses came, we began using it as a shepherd's dwelling where the elves who tended the herd slept with their dogs. Now, it is sparsely used, though we keep it stocked. Soon, the horses will move to lower ground, closer to the Last Homely House, and we will close this shack for the duration of the winter." He opened the wood box next to the hearth. "It is rough, but it is warm and dry. Place some wood on the fire while I clear the snow from the chimney."

Celebrus watched him exit and did as he had been instructed, building a small fire in the hearth by piling kindling and logs and then lighting it with the flint Gildor left behind. It had been years since he had built a fire this way; the last time had been when he was still an elfling living with his parents. Soon, Gildor returned, wet and covered in snow. Instinctively, Celebrus greeted him by removing his wet cloak and unbuttoning his tunic.

"Your garments are wet," he said softly. "If we hang them by the fire, they will dry faster."

Gildor allowed the lithe Silvan to remove his cloak, tunic, and boots, leaving him only in his undershirt, leggings, and socks. The fire was quickly beginning to take the chill from the air, and Celebrus then removed his own cloak, using the inner, dry side to wipe the snow from Gildor's hair and dry it.

"So, you serve me this night, then?" Gildor asked, half in jest and half serious.

Celebrus hung his own cloak by the fire then turned to face the elf lord. "It seems habits die hard."

Gildor smiled. "I ask nothing and expect nothing, Celebrus. I did not bring you here to seduce you."

"No, of course not," Celebrus answered, a warm smile curving his lips. "That would be my duty."

Gildor chuckled. "I shall make tea for us. Are you still chilled?" Celebrus nodded. "Sit by the fire then, the tea will be ready soon enough."

Celebrus wandered to the far side of the room and lifted the burlap square to find a window with paned glass carved into the side of the mound. The snowdrifts were as tall as the mound, however, so the view from the window was blocked. He then turned and walked back to the fire, where he sat upon a low stool and warmed his hands.

"You said the custom of keeping courtesans is an old one, one that no longer is kept by cultures other than the Sindar," he said quietly. "Did the Noldor ever keep such?"

"Yes," Gildor answered, "but that was ages ago, before the world was remade."

"Have you ever known one?"

"Yes, more than one."

"And what thought you of the service?"

Gildor looked at the Silvan. He certainly asked frank questions. Celebrus' skin glowed from the light of the fire and his braids were slowly coming undone as the fire melted the snow that had fallen on his face and in his hair. "I enjoyed it," Gildor answered. "They were no doubt the most skilled lovers I ever had."

"Male or female?" Celebrus asked.

"Both," Gildor answered. "You are a curious one."

Celebrus smiled. "Aye, I am. If I am to spend the night with you, I feel I should know something about you."

"I see," Gildor answered with a grin. "What do you know of Glorfindel?"

"Enough to give him what he wants, even when he himself does not know it." Celebrus looked at the fire. "I may be young and I may be different, but I am no fool, Gildor. Glorfindel's heart belongs to my king. What we do with our bodies does not touch that."

"And what of your heart?"

"My heart has no master; it has been turned out of doors."

"That is surely a pity," Gildor answered. "For a heart such as yours should not be without a mate."

Celebrus closed his eyes and swallowed; the elf lord's words struck too close to the quick. He drew on what was deep inside him, to that ability to enthrall and seduce those of his choosing, and he opened his eyes, turning his sloe gaze to the Noldo. "And how long has it been, Gildor? How long since you have known the skilled touch of one of my kind?"

"Celebrus..." Gildor began, but his words died on his lips. He watched as the Silvan rose and crossed the short distance to where he stood by the table. The elegance with which Celebrus moved was hypnotizing, as were his blue eyes and delicate features. The courtesan placed his hands upon his chest and slowly, gently leaned into him.

"Do you not find me desirable? You said yourself that we will be here all night. No one knows where we are; we could be here for days, if that is what you want."

"And what do you want, Celebrus?" Gildor asked.

"I want to know you," Celebrus answered.

"I think you are hiding," Gildor answered.

"From what?"

"From what pains you. I know something of that."

Celebrus lowered his eyes. "So you do not want me, then."

Gildor swallowed and placed his hands upon Celebrus' arms before the Silvan could draw away. "I did not say that. I find you most beautiful, and most desirable. But I do not want to be a place for you to hide."

"I cannot hide from you, Gildor," Celebrus answered as he looked into the Noldo's eyes, "for you have seen into my soul already."

"Seduction is no substitute for love," Gildor said softly as Celebrus' lips moved closer to his own.

"No, but it has its own merits," Celebrus murmured before pressing his lips against Gildor's.

The kiss was long and deep, and slowly Gildor allowed himself to let down the carefully constructed wall he had built around himself. Soft hands with long, elegant fingers quested inside his loose shirt, caressing skin that had not been touched in many, many years. His own hands slid down Celebrus' long back, into the curve and then over the rise of his perfectly round backside. No doubt, this one possessed great skill, but Gildor wanted more than that. He wanted to reach past the seduction, to touch the elf that existed beneath this beautiful façade. But did he deserve such a rich gift?

"Touch me," Celebrus whispered huskily. "I want to feel your hands on my skin." Gildor unbuttoned his tunic and peeled it away as though he were unwrapping a precious jewel. The feel of the Noldo's battle-roughened hands against his skin caused a shuddering gasp to escape Celebrus' lips. Gildor's lips hovered over his own, and dark, midnight blue eyes stared at him with frightening intensity.

"You have awakened that inside me which has slept for over an age, my young courtesan. I hope you are prepared for what is to come," Gildor murmured.

Celebrus trembled in Gildor's powerful arms. "You underestimate me, my lord," he whispered.

"We shall see," Gildor answered in a low voice.

To be continued...

Chapter 28:

Summary: Elladan makes a confession; Celebrus finds he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Elrohir regarded his twin with concern when Elladan finally returned. He knew where Elladan had gone, and it was not so much that as it was his reluctance to speak of the subject that concerned him. "Brother?" he called softly.

Elladan looked at his twin, propped upon the soft pillows of their bed, an open book in his lap. The past weeks had brought much of the color back into Elrohir's complexion, and no doubt his wounds were nearly healed, but Elladan still regarded him as frail for reasons he could not explain. They had not made love in weeks. True, he had touched Elrohir, kissed him, held him, but beyond pleasuring him with his hands or his mouth, nothing more had been done.

There were no secrets between them. Each saw into the other's mind, each felt what the other felt, so Elrohir was more than aware each and every time that Elladan lay with Erestor. Elladan stood there now in the middle of their room, barefoot with his robe wrapped around him, his hair loose. The smell of sex was still upon him as he looked at his beloved twin.

"I do not begrudge you this," Elrohir said softly. "I only wish you would speak of it."

"I have given him what I have only given you," Elladan answered, his eyes cast to the floor.

"I know."

"Does this hurt you?"

"Should it?"

"I do not want it to."

Elrohir smiled sadly. "What hurts me is the pain you feel inside, Elladan. What hurts me is the grief that hangs heavy upon your heart. Why are you afraid to touch me?"

"I cannot explain how I felt when I saw you fall, Elrohir," Elladan said. "It was as if part of me died then, on the mountain. It was the better part of me, and all that was left behind was rage and hatred for those foul beasts."

"But I am still with you," Elrohir countered.

"Are you? Sometimes I feel you; sometimes I do not. The choice that has always faced us seems closer and larger now than ever before. I feel my human blood more acutely."

"Have you made your choice?" Elrohir asked.

"Would you not know?"

"I thought I would, but now I am not so sure," Elrohir answered, his voice sounding small.

"I have not, brother," Elladan answered as he moved to sit beside Elrohir on the bed.

Elrohir reached out and took Elladan's hand, placing it upon his chest, over his heart. "Your grief tries to overwhelm this," Elrohir said softly. "But I will not let it. I will not let what happened destroy the bond between us."

Elladan placed his free hand upon the side of Elrohir's head, gazing deep into his silvery eyes. "Nothing will do that, Elrohir. I will die before I let that happen."

Elrohir smiled. "I love you, Elladan. You are my heart, my soul, my conscience, and my beloved."

"And I love you, Elrohir, more than I could ever explain in words."

Elrohir slipped his hand behind Elladan's neck and drew him forward. "There are other ways to explain that do not involve words," he said softly.

"Indeed," Elladan answered, "Yet I am afraid..."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "You think me weak?"

Elladan smiled. "Anything but, my love."

"Then make love to me, Elladan, like you always have."

"I will, but let me bathe first."

"No, now, like this, with his scent upon you. It would not be the first time we have joined thusly."

"As you wish, my love," Elladan murmured against his twin's lips. Elrohir slipped the robe from his body, his twin's hands glided over his warm flesh, fingers probing and touching all the places that inflamed his desire. Elrohir slid down into the bed beneath him as he moved the book aside and came to rest atop his twin. Hungrily Elladan kissed him, the long weeks without this full contact reigniting his passion.

"Tell me, brother," Elrohir murmured sultrily, "did he ride you hard as I do?"

Elladan gently sunk his teeth into Elrohir's shoulder, leaving a love mark behind. "No, that is reserved for you and only you."

Elrohir raised his legs, undulating against his twin's awakening length. "Did he allow you to take him hard, as you take me?"

"No," Elladan murmured as he nibbled his twin's chest, "you are the only one who likes it rough, brother."

Elrohir laughed. "Well, not the only one..."

Elladan paused and looked into his twin's eyes. "I have done a terrible thing, Elrohir. I have hurt someone we both love because I was feeling weak."

Elrohir took Elladan's face in his hands. "He will understand, Elladan. Of all elves, Legolas will understand."

"Will he? He loves Erestor and trusts him, and I have violated that trust."

"Not you alone, Elladan. Erestor bears some of the blame, unless you hogtied him and took him by force." He raised an eyebrow.

Elladan chuckled despite his sadness. "Now can you imagine that? Me tying up Erestor and..."

Elrohir grinned. "No, I suppose I cannot. Erestor is not the type."

Elladan caressed Elrohir's face, running his thumb over his twin's ample lips. "Tell me you forgive me, Elrohir. I will be able to handle what comes if I know you forgive me."

"I have nothing to forgive you for, for I blame you for nothing. Nor will our prince, Elladan. I promise you that. He knows the pain you feel, even though his mother died and ours lives." He brushed his lips against Elladan's mouth. "I love you, brother."

'I love you, Elrohir," Elladan murmured before taking his twin's mouth in a deep kiss.

* * * *

"Sweet Elbereth!" Celebrus exclaimed as Gildor assaulted every inch of his flesh with his hands and his mouth. The Noldo was insatiable and relentless in his pursuit to make him weak with desire. Celebrus raised his legs and ground their lengths together as he arched against the elf lord. Gildor slipped from his grasp and began working his way down his body, first tormenting his inflamed nipples with nips and pinches, then torturing his length with long, slow licks. It was the first time since his initiation that he felt totally out of control and desperate with need. He fisted Gildor's fair hair in his hands as he begged for more.

The courtesan's scent was intoxicating, sweet and musky; his flesh was so soft, so warm and his body so pliable and eager. Even the Silvan's feet were perfect, Gildor decided, as he kissed his way down a long, elegant leg and arriving at a perfectly formed foot.

"Ai!" Celebrus exclaimed, then giggled as a warm wet tongue followed the curve of his arch.

Gildor smiled wickedly. "Ticklish? Surely I am not the first to discover this."

Celebrus panted and smiled down at his muscular warrior. "Not the first, but the second," he answered breathlessly.

"What about here?" Gildor asked with an amused grin curving his lips as he drew the backs of his fingers along the underside of Celebrus' knee.

"Oh!" Celebrus broke out in a fresh bout of giggles as he squirmed and tried to remove his leg from Gildor's grasp.

"How delightful you are," Gildor murmured between kisses along the inside of Celebrus' thigh.

Giggles turned to breathless sighs, as once again Celebrus surrendered to that feeling he craved and could not live without. "Please, my lord," Celebrus breathed. "That feels so good, you feel so good..."

"Now, my delicious pet, what did I tell you about titles?" Gildor murmured as he arrived at the apex of Celebrus' thigh.

"Forgive me, Gildor," Celebrus whispered. "I only mean to convey reverence."

"I do not wish to be revered," Gildor answered as he made his way down the other leg.

"What do you wish for?" Celebrus asked in a hushed voice.

"I wish to be loved," Gildor answered as he regarded the delicate chain that surrounded Celebrus' ankle. "Though I doubt I deserve it," he finished as he turned the anklet.

Celebrus regarded the elf lord seriously. "Why would you say such a thing?" His eyes widened as he watched Gildor finger the chain.

"I do not think you need this any longer."

Celebrus opened his mouth to protest, but for reasons he could not understand, his voice failed him. Gildor removed the chain from where it had rested for the last ten years and carefully placed it by the hearth so it could be found later. Celebrus shuddered, then sighed as Gildor's lips caressed his now bare ankle.

"Perhaps I shall give you something to replace it, should the impossible occur."

"What is that, Gildor?" Celebrus whispered as the elf lord gently laid down his leg and moved to lie atop him.

"You falling in love with me," Gildor answered as he softly kissed Celebrus' chest.

"Why say you impossible?" Celebrus breathed as Gildor's turgid and slick arousal slid between his legs.

The elf lord held the Silvan's face in his hands and murmured, "Because I am damned. I am a Kinslayer."

Celebrus felt a tear fall from his eye as he stared into the stormy grey depths of Gildor's eyes.

Chapter 29:

Summary: Celebrus makes an astonishing discovery; Glorfindel worries about his charge.

Celebrus reached up, holding Gildor's beautiful face in his hands. 'Kinslayer'. That word struck fear and loathing in the hearts of his kind. This elf who lay atop him, who could have him at his mercy should he wish it, had killed his kindred. Their naked bodies were pressed together, but nothing felt as naked as their souls in that moment. Gildor had made the ultimate confession; he had spoken words that he surely knew could drive the two of them apart. Yet, despite that, the question remained in the elf lord's eyes - 'Did he deserve love?'

"I will leave you here and come back for you at dawn, should you wish me gone," Gildor said softly. "You would not be the first to do so."

Instinctively, Celebrus clung to the ancient elf lord. "No! Do not leave me, please," he begged.

"You would have me still, even knowing what you do now? You would have these hands, hands that murdered your kin, touch you?"

"Yes," Celebrus breathed. "I do not fear you, I want you. Please, do not leave me."

Gildor took the Silvan's face in his hands. "Only the Valar know what I have done to deserve this," he said softly.

Celebrus felt that overwhelming sense of excitement and need that he experienced moments before Gildor made his confession. Each touch, each kiss caused him to tremble like a virgin upon his initiation bed. "Love me, Gildor," he whispered. "I want to know what it feels like."

Again, his elf lord slipped from his grasp, working his way down his body and between his legs. Celebrus spread his legs wide as that warm tongue lapped at his entrance, then it slipped inside, causing a ragged gasp to issue from his chest. Suddenly, the need to be joined with this Noldo was overwhelming; he felt that if it was not fed he would surely die from wanting.

"Please," he whispered, "I need you."

"I am yours, Celebrus," Gildor answered.

It was unlike anything Celebrus had ever experienced in his life. It was more than the joining of their bodies, it was the joining of two souls: one ancient as time, one new and still innocent in so many ways. He moaned deeply as Gildor entered him and he clung to the elf lord, drinking in his kiss as Gildor moved slowly inside him. His desire and his need rose to impossible heights, and then kept going. His body climaxed and yet his passion burned on, and all the while Gildor moved within him, the Noldo's lips drinking from his mouth, tasting his flesh. When Gildor spent himself, Celebrus found his final release; it was so powerful that he cried out in a mixture of pain and rapture.

They lay together, Gildor's larger, stronger form sheltering his own as the fire began to wane. The elf lord moved to revive it and Celebrus clutched at him briefly, almost afraid to let him leave. Gildor's large, strong hand caressed his face and he murmured, "I will return, lover."

'Lover.' The word rang in Celebrus' ears like a siren's song. Never was it spoken to him like that, with such meaning and such sincerity. He watched as this ancient elf lord, who had already given him more than anyone ever had, added logs to the fire. Celebrus admired the curves of muscle that moved beneath Gildor's skin, the fall of flaxen hair that hung like a curtain of spun wheat around his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He had known several beautiful lovers in his day, and surely, this one ranked high among them.

There was something about the elf lord that was different from many of the other elves he had known. He pondered that intangible quality when suddenly it occurred to him where he had seen it before: Glorfindel. Celebrus was gazing upon a true Elda, an elf born in Aman.

Gildor smiled and returned to their narrow bed, sliding beneath the blankets and again covered Celebrus' form with his own. Celebrus caressed his face, fingers slowly memorizing every curve of cheek and jaw.

"You are a treasure," Gildor whispered, then he placed his fingers upon Celebrus' lips, softly caressing them. "I fear I am lost to you so soon."

Celebrus removed Gildor's fingers and sought the Noldo's mouth with his own, endeavoring to answer the declaration with a kiss rather than words. Soon, he was curled against Gildor, sleeping soundly in his lover's arms.

* * * *

Glorfindel paced his room, watching the snow fall heavily outside the window. He could feel Erestor's scrutinizing gaze upon him and he turned to face his friend.

"He is with Gildor, my friend," Erestor said quietly. "You know no harm will come to him this night."

"But where could they be? They should have returned hours ago."

"They are probably holed up in the hunting cabin. You said you were told that they were headed in that direction." Erestor drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Are you truly worried about his safety, or are you worried about what he might be doing?"

"Erestor!" Glorfindel sputtered with weak indignation.

"Oh, come now, Glorfindel. You and I know one another far too well for pretense. You said yourself that Thranduil sent him here so that he could make his own life, one outside of the royal court. Is this not a good thing that he find Gildor? Gildor is a fine and worthy suitor. How often does a courtesan have a chance to make a life with one of such noble blood?"

"With a Kinslayer..." Glorfindel murmured.

"Glorfindel! You should be ashamed of yourself to speak of Gildor in such a way!"

"I do not mean anything cruel," Glorfindel answered. "But Gildor is . . . was a Kinslayer. There are complications that come with that."

"For the better part of three ages, Gildor has been paying the price for something that he never should have been caught up in. Surely, he has redeemed himself in the eyes of the Valar by now."

"How do you think Celebrus will feel when he learns the truth?"

"I suppose that depends on how Celebrus feels at the time," Erestor answered quietly.

Glorfindel sat down in the chair across from his old friend. "I have struggled with this since we arrived, Erestor. I know in my heart that I have to place some distance between myself and Celebrus if he is ever to find his own way, yet letting go of him is harder than I imagined it would be."

"How do you think Thranduil would feel about that?" Erestor asked.

Glorfindel gazed at his friend; there was no judgment or accusation in his eyes. "I do not know, though if I know my beloved, there is little I could do that he would not forgive me for. However, hurting Celebrus would surely be among those few things."

"I wonder if that trait passes from father to son?"

Glorfindel reached across and took Erestor's hand. "He loves you, Erestor."

"I know, and I love him, yet I betrayed him."

"He will understand; he may be angry, but he will understand, in time."

"I hope you are right, Glorfindel. Eternity is a long time to suffer."

Glorfindel sighed. "Indeed."

"Will you be able to sleep this night, alone in your big, cold bed?"

Glorfindel scowled mockingly at his friend. "Stop it."

"I mean, you have grown rather pampered these last few weeks by that lovely little courtesan..."

Glorfindel flicked a pillow at his friend, which Erestor easily batted away.

"Why do you think he takes such pains to avoid me? I had thought he would come to work in my library once he settled in. I am given to understand he is learned in the ways of scholars."

"I do not know," Glorfindel answered. "Perhaps he is shy."

Erestor snorted. "A shy courtesan?"

Glorfindel shrugged.

Erestor rose from his chair. "Well, some of us are too old to be sitting up half the night worrying needlessly about a young elf who has proven that he can take care of himself." He placed a hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you for coming by," Glorfindel said quietly, as he covered Erestor's hand with his own.

"'Twas the least I could do, since you were conspicuously absent at Elrond's table this eve." Erestor bent down and placed a kiss on the top of Glorfindel's head.

Glorfindel squeezed Erestor's hand. "Spring will be upon us soon, my friend."

"I both welcome it and dread it," Erestor answered, and then he left Glorfindel alone with his thoughts.

* * * *

Dawn came and a soft light peered in from around the small window cut into the hillside. Celebrus blinked as his eyes cleared from reverie and he stretched and rolled to his back. His heart sank when he found himself alone, then he sat up and looked around the room to find Gildor's clothes were gone. Laying on the small stool by the fire was the delicate chain that had once bespoke of his role in life, a role that no longer had use.

He rose from the small bed he had spent the night with Gildor in and pulled on his clothes, dressing by the fire. He picked up the chain and twirled it in his fingers before sitting on the stool, and then placed the chain in his breast pocket. The door opened and he saw Gildor enter, a broad smile curving his lips before he even realized it.

His elf lord crossed the room and produced several large, ripe apples from inside his cloak. "Our breakfast," he said quietly, then knelt on the floor and kissed Celebrus gently on the lips.

Celebrus smiled and placed his hands on Gildor's face. "You take such good care of me," he murmured against the Noldo's lips. "It has been a long time since anyone did such."

"I shall do so as often as you allow," Gildor answered in a deep husky voice, before slipping his hand around the back of Celebrus' head and kissing him deeply. "I have some lembas in my pack, and I will make tea," he said as he released Celebrus.

Celebrus watched as the Noldo sliced the apples with his knife, then placed them on a metal plate. He set the plate on a grate over the fire and within a few minutes, the room smelled of warm, sweet apples. Wrapping his cloak around his hand, Gildor removed the plate and placed it on the table, then handed Celebrus a fork.

"Have you ever had grilled apples?"

"No," Celebrus answered, his mouth watering from the delicious aroma and his stomach grumbling with hunger.

"'Tis an easy thing to make when one is on the road, and warm food is always good on a cold morning."

"Do you travel much?" Celebrus asked as he cut into the warm, soft apple with a fork.

"Aye," Gildor answered. "As a matter of fact, I am away more than I am home. 'Tis my duty to keep Lord Elrond apprised of what is happening in the world outside the Hidden Valley."

"You are a spy?" Celebrus asked.

Gildor smiled. "I suppose I am, yes. I am also a soldier and have fought in too many wars."

"How many?" Celebrus asked.

"Enough," Gildor answered, his gaze focused on the fire. "In my youth, I was foolish, valuing bravery and valor over all other things. I left my homeland with my father and traveled to Middle-earth. It was not what I expected; it was not what any of us expected. Instead of lands of our own, we were met with death and destruction. We followed Fëanor in his madness, and many of us have paid the price."

Celebrus knelt on the floor and placed his hands on Gildor's knees. "The Wars of Beleriand," he whispered. "They were terrible."

Gildor looked into Celebrus' eyes. "Aye, they were. I have precious little family left, Celebrus. Only an aunt, a cousin, and my grandparents remain of my blood family."

"And what of other family? Were you ever married?"

"No. I would not leave behind a grieving wife and children, not after what I had seen." He caressed Celebrus' face. "Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían are my family, by distant relation. That is why I am committed to serving them."

Celebrus opened Gildor's legs and knelt between them, placing his arms around Gildor's waist and his head upon his shoulder. "I am so sorry about what happened to her, Gildor."

Gildor stroked Celebrus' hair. "I am sorry you had to witness it. But I am very glad that Glorfindel saved you. That might possibly be the best thing he has ever done." He kissed the top of Celebrus' head. "Come, my lovely, 'tis time we returned home."

'Home.' It was strange to think of the Last Homely House as that, but the longer Celebrus was there, the more it seemed so.

They pulled on their cloaks, doused the fire, and then called Gildor's horse.

To be continued...

Chapter 30:

Summary: Gildor and Glorfindel have a conversation, and Glorfindel reaches a conclusion.

Glorfindel stepped outside of his office upon hearing the sound of hoof beats near the stable. He watched from just outside his door as Gildor swung down off his large gelding's back and helped Celebrus down. The two stood facing one another for a moment, and then he saw Gildor touch Celebrus' face. They embraced, then Celebrus ran towards the Last Homely House, and Gildor led his mount to the stable.

Unable to resist, Glorfindel followed the Elda and ensured that they were alone before he approached.

"Glorfindel, good morn. I trust today is another peaceful day in Imladris?"

Glorfindel winced. He had never been able to take Gildor unawares, not once in the ages since they had known one another. "Aye, and good morn to you, my friend. Out for a ride so early?"

Gildor turned and faced his old friend. "Come now, you really do not believe that I did not see you standing there, or that I do not know you watched me embrace Celebrus."

Glorfindel's face colored a little, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Forgive me for spying, Gildor."

Gildor smiled. "That would be my purpose, not yours, my friend."

Glorfindel nodded. "I was worried about him."

"Were you truly? Did you not discover that he was with me shortly after you returned and found him gone?"

"Well, perhaps worried is not the right word . . . I . . . missed him."

Gildor walked to where Glorfindel stood and placed his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "Forgive me for being forward, but we are good friends, are we not?"

"The best," Glorfindel answered, gazing into his elder's eyes.

"Thranduil sent him here so that he might find a different life, one that brings him fulfillment on every level, rather than one that is spent in servitude."

Glorfindel nodded.

"And while he is no longer serving his king, he serves you, and in his mind, this is one and the same; in my mind, servitude is servitude - he still does not live his own life."

Glorfindel nodded again. "Aye, I have been struggling with finding a way to help him with this."

"Having him live with you, assist you, serve you in both your office and in your bed, does not help him, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel flinched and stepped back, his fair brow furrowed. "You accuse me of not caring?"

"No. I am merely telling you what I see and what I think. He is a bright elf, Glorfindel, but he is also selfless to the point of hurting himself. Why this is, I do not know, for I do not know his history. But, he will go on denying what he wants and convincing himself that it is making you, or his king, happy. Does he not deserve his own happiness?"

"He does, he most surely does. Do you think that happiness is with you?"

"I do not know; part of me would like to believe that, for I am most surely taken with him. But loving me is no easy thing, and I would not wish his fate to be bound to mine if that were to bring him harm."

"What is it about him, Gildor, that makes us act so foolishly?"

Gildor smiled and clasped his friend's shoulder. "Vulnerability, kindness, and beauty are a deadly combination, my friend. He has all three."

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "I will have Lindir secure him his own quarters. I will also speak to him again about working in the library with Erestor. But I do not wish to cut him out entirely, that would be too much."

Gildor squeezed Glorfindel's shoulder. "This is wise. How you decide to proceed is up to you, but you must somehow remove all ties to his old life, and that means helping him find a new way to live his life."

"Agreed." Glorfindel turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at Gildor. "You spent the night with him, did you not?"

Gildor looked thoughtfully at Glorfindel. "Yes. Though, that was not my intent when I took him for a ride. The chill fell faster than I anticipated it would."

"And how did you treat him? I mean, I know you would never be cruel, but did you use him as he would have had you use him?"

Gildor furrowed his brow. "I did lay with him at his behest, but I endeavored to ensure he derived as much, or more pleasure from it than I did. Again, this was not my intention when..."

Glorfindel nodded. "Understood. I thank you for your frankness." He then turned and left the stable.

Gildor turned to his horse and rubbed the large gelding's face. "Have I made an error, my old friend?" he murmured to the beast. "I hope I have not, but I fear it is too late."

* * * *

Celebrus quickly climbed the stairs to the chambers he shared with Glorfindel. Opening the door, he stepped inside to find the rooms empty. "He is already at work," Celebrus murmured to himself, then quickly undressed and drew a bath. He bathed as fast as he could, braiding his still damp hair and dressing in a fresh tunic and leggings that Glorfindel had made for him. Grabbing a clean cloak, he rushed out of the Last Homely House and down to the Elda's office.

Bursting through the door, and nearly skidding on the ice that had formed on the portico, he gasped for air and quickly bowed his head. "My apologies, my lord," he breathed. "I am so very late for work."

Glorfindel sat back in his chair and looked at Celebrus' flushed face. The Silvan was practically beaming, and he suspected the reason had little to do with the chill outside. "No worries, Celebrus," he said softly. "You are allowed your own time."

"I beg your forgiveness, my lord," Celebrus said quietly as he took his place behind the small desk Glorfindel had brought in for him. "I hope I did not worry you last night. The weather turned, and..."

"I have already spoken with Gildor," Glorfindel interrupted. "You do not need to explain, Celebrus. As I said, you have a right to your own life."

Celebrus rose and walked to where Glorfindel sat. "Are you angry with me?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "No, I am angry with myself."

"Why?"

"Because I have been selfish, and I have failed to do that which my beloved asked of me."

"Which is?"

"To help you make your own life here, one that does not involve being a courtesan to anyone."

"But he said . . . he asked me to look after you."

"He said that to convince you to come with me, Celebrus. He knew you would never agree otherwise."

Celebrus sat heavily in a chair opposite Glorfindel. "He no longer wanted me," he whispered, "he no longer needed me. He sent me away because of Legolas..."

"No, Celebrus, you do not understand. He loves you as if you were his own. His dearest wish is to see you happy, to see you in love, and neither he nor Legolas can give you that now. Do not deny to me that you want this, I can see it in your eyes, I can see it in your heart."

A tear fell from Celebrus' eye. "All I have ever wanted was their happiness. I owe him, I owe them that."

"Then do what makes them happy, Celebrus, and in that you will find your own happiness and peace."

"Have I not pleased you?" he asked Glorfindel with an imploring gaze.

Glorfindel rose from his chair and knelt beside Celebrus. "You have, you most certainly have, Celebrus. So much so, that it has been difficult for me to let you go."

"I am afraid," he said quietly. "I have never been on my own."

Glorfindel reached up and caressed Celebrus' face. "I am still here, as are the twins. All of us, Erestor included, will look after you and see that you are not alone."

Celebrus shook his head vehemently. "No, not him. I cannot face him."

Glorfindel frowned. "Why? Why do you fear Erestor?"

"I cannot say, please do not make me say." He moved to rise, and Glorfindel quickly gained his feet and grasped his arms.

"You must tell me, Celebrus. You cannot avoid him forever; it is starting to look suspicious."

"And for good reason," Celebrus murmured.

"Tell me."

"I cannot. You will hate me."

"Tell me!" Glorfindel commanded.

Celebrus hid his face and answered, "Up until the day we left, I took Legolas to my bed every night. I would have kept doing so until Erestor arrived had I not been sent away. I meant no harm to your friend, but Legolas needed me, and I have always been there when he did."

Glorfindel sighed and drew Celebrus into an embrace. "Oh, sweet Celebrus. You carry such a burden upon yourself." He held the Silvan tight as Celebrus began to weep. "I know you, Celebrus, in your heart I know you did this out of love and not out of malice to Erestor. Erestor is wiser and kinder than you know; he will hold no judgment against you."

"I cannot tell him; you cannot tell him."

"And you should not, nor will I. That is Legolas' duty." Glorfindel sighed. "Are you sure you cannot just bury this for now and get to know him?"

"I do not want to know him. Why would I want to know the one who took my prince's heart?" Celebrus raised his head. "Do not mistake me, my lord. I wish Erestor no ill will, for he loves my prince and my prince loves him. I would never wish harm upon the one who holds my prince's happiness in his hands. But to ask me to know him..."

"I understand," Glorfindel said softly. "We will find some other way that you can be of service to this house."

"Is my service to you not enough?"

"You and I must change this relationship we have, Celebrus. We must find a way to become friends and nothing more. You must begin spending time away from me and on your own." Glorfindel sighed again. "Come, this day is not for work. You should rest now. I will have Lindir secure quarters for you." He touched Celebrus' cheek when he saw the fear in the young elf's eyes. "Do not fret, they will be near mine. Perhaps I will speak to him about you joining the minstrels; you have a beautiful singing voice."

Celebrus nodded. "I would like that," he said quietly.

Glorfindel led Celebrus from his offices back to their quarters.

To be continued...

Chapter 31:

Summary: Celebrus has a frightening moment, and Glorfindel and Gildor have fun.

The months drew on in Imladris, and slowly, winter began to give way to spring. Celebrus forged his own life, singing with the minstrels and eventually earning a solo or two from Lindir. The two Silvan elves formed a strong bond of friendship and slowly Celebrus warmed to the idea of spending time around Erestor. While he still avoided the library when the counselor was there, he no longer hid or averted his eyes when the Noldo passed by. Lindir, being the kind soul he was, never passed judgment on Celebrus for his former life. Many of the elves in Imladris were the same, but a few were not, and it was just that sort of elf that waylaid Celebrus on his way to the rehearsal rooms one day.

"Are you not the pretty one?" a tall, dark haired elf murmured as Celebrus passed by.

Immediately, sensing malice in the young elf's voice, Celebrus bowed his head and quickened his steps. He sensed the elf, along with two of his friends, following him down the winding path to where the minstrels rehearsed. There were yet several hundred feet to go down a heavily wooded path. The elves who followed him were young and brash, new recruits in Imladris' forces that had come from small, outlying colonies. Many had grown up around the Northmen and had adopted men's rough ways.

"Is he not the one from Mirkwood? That barbaric land where they still keep whores?" another chimed in.

"He must miss that, getting thoroughly bedded each day, since the elves here know no such custom," the third said.

"Perhaps we should assist him then, ease his homesickness," the first said, and then Celebrus began to run.

They caught him rather quickly, and he dropped his sheets of music and grasped a fallen branch, swinging it and soundly striking one of the elves in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. "You may best me," he said, trying to sound more angry than afraid, "but I will not make it easy for you."

"Oh ho!" the first one laughed. "He has fire in him, this one. I bet he likes it rough." The elf barked in surprise as he was clapped hard on the back of the head, and Celebrus nearly dropped his stick in surprise.

Standing before him was Gildor, holding two of the elves by the collars, and fixing the third to the spot with a menacing glare.

"You three make me sick," Gildor growled. "I, nor Lord Glorfindel, nor Lord Elrond for that matter, will tolerate this disgusting behavior, certainly not from prospective soldiers. We are First Born! We do not ever, ever insult an innocent, nor do we ever, EVER take that which is not freely given!"

"Innocent, my lord?" the first elf cried. "He is but a common..."

Gildor dropped one of the elves he was holding and soundly struck the first across the face. The young elf looked at the ground and held his jaw.

"I have seen your kind before," Gildor continued in a menacing tone. "You are brave enough when under-matched, but you will cry like an elfling and soil yourself the first time you come face to face with an orc. This elf has done nothing to earn your ire, and I am sure he would be happy enough to never see you again. You insult him, you threaten to defile him. Why?" He glared at the instigator. "Tell me! Why?"

"I . . . I . . . I do not know," the first said, hanging his head in shame.

"And who are you to handle us thusly?" the second elf asked in a brief moment of false courage, which quickly faded when Gildor turned on him.

"I need not explain myself to the likes of you, but I would have you know your accuser," Gildor answered. "I am Gildor Inglorion, of the House of Finrod, if that makes a difference to you ruffians."

"Gildor Inglorion," the elves muttered in hushed reverence. Celebrus merely gazed at the elf lord in shock.

Gildor growled low in his chest, then released the third elf. "Go back to the barracks and await me there. You will be lucky to be released with a reprimand; you might be unlucky enough to have your bravery and tolerance for pain tested against Lord Glorfindel's or my own." The three elves ran quickly toward the barracks. Gildor called after them, "And you had better be there when I arrive!" He turned and looked at a now clearly shaken Celebrus. "Are you well, my friend?" he asked softly.

"Gildor," Celebrus breathed and he rushed forward and embraced him.

Gildor smiled and held the Silvan in his arms, dipping his head and breathing deeply of the elf's scent. "Mmm... I have missed you, my treasure," he murmured.

"Where have you been?" Celebrus asked, his voice muffled by Gildor's shoulder.

Gildor pressed his lips to the top of Celebrus' head. "On patrol. I had to leave suddenly; forgive me for not saying farewell."

"I am just so very happy to see you," Celebrus said as he pulled back and looked into the elf lord's eyes. "I cannot believe I did not figure out who you were until you said so just now," he said quietly. "Now everything you said to me that morning makes sense!"

Gildor smiled. "I do not often use the name of my father, I would prefer that I stand on my own merit." He grinned mischievously. "However, there are times when it has its advantages, like striking fear into the hearts of miscreants. Can you not hear them now, fearfully repeating the name of a Kinslayer? There are times when that title has its advantages as well."

Celebrus rose to the balls of his feet and placed a kiss upon the elf lord's cheek. "I am so grateful for your return," he said softly.

Gildor caressed Celebrus' face. "I am grateful I was here. I could not stand the thought of anything happening to you."

Celebrus smiled. "It will not, not as long as I have those like you looking after me." He pressed a soft kiss to the Noldo's lips, and it quickly grew deeper.

Gildor wrapped an arm around Celebrus' waist, pulling him up on his toes as he kissed him deeply. Strange how familiar and good this felt, as though these lips were made just for him. They separated, eyes closed, each one's breath fanning the mouth of the other, when Gildor whispered. "Your music..."

"Rehearsal!" Celebrus cried, and Gildor released him. "Oh, Lindir will be worried, I am so late!"

Gildor chuckled as he helped Celebrus gather the sheets of music. "We must not make Master Lindir angry."

Celebrus snickered. "No, 'twould not be a good thing."

Gildor took the Silvan's hand. "Come, I shall walk you to rehearsal, that way I can bear the brunt of young Master Lindir's ire, should he have any."

Celebrus smiled and accepted the strong hand. "My thanks, Gildor."

* * * *

The three offenders sat on a bench, cowering under the glare of Glorfindel when Gildor arrived. Glorfindel turned and looked at Gildor. "Well met, my friend."

Gildor winked, then stood next to Glorfindel. "At the risk of sounding critical, I have to wonder where we find recruits these days."

Glorfindel sighed. "They came from outlying colonies. Apparently, each lost his father in skirmishes with evil men, and it seems they have had no outlet for their grief and anger; nor have they had any discipline. Not that this is an excuse."

"We would never have done it, my lord!" the third cried out. "We only wanted to frighten him!"

"No, my lord!" the first cried. "We are no rapists!"

"'Tis a pity that their plan failed," Gildor said evenly. "Our friend did not look afraid to me."

Glorfindel smirked. "Nay, I would think not. Mirkwood elves have seen worse than this." He turned to Gildor, but kept one eye on the three. "Did you know he was trained in combat by both King Thranduil and Prince Legolas?"

Gildor turned to face Glorfindel, shifting his weight to one leg and crossing his arms casually over his chest. "I did not know that. 'Tis fortunate that I arrived while he was merely toying with them. Had I not..."

Glorfindel shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Lucky indeed. Everyone knows that Mirkwood elves are assassins."

Gildor winced. "Oh dear. And had they succeeded in their evil plan by some stroke of blind luck..."

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye." He drew his finger across his throat. "They would have been murdered in their sleep, one by one."

Glorfindel suppressed a laugh as he watched the three offenders squirm uncomfortably. "I think it is in their best interest that they offer an official apology, in the Hall of Fire this eve."

Gildor nodded. "Aye. That should appease the young master's anger and hopefully earn them clemency."

Glorfindel continued, "Then, I shall send them to Master Erestor for no less than a fortnight, where they will learn proper decorum as befits a soldier of Imladris."

There was a hushed murmur of dread that came from the direction of the offenders.

"And, IF they pass," Gildor continued, "we shall reconsider training them. If they do not..."

"Send them to Mirkwood," Glorfindel finished, biting the inside of his lip to keep from grinning.

"We will pass, my lords!" the first cried.

"Yes, we will most surely pass!" the second added.

"And we will apologize most earnestly to Master Celebrus!" the third said.

Glorfindel cocked his head and then looked back at Gildor. "Or we could just send them to Mirkwood now and be done with them."

"No!" the three cried. Then, to both Glorfindel and Gildor's surprise, the three fell on their knees and clutched at their tunics. "Please, we want to reform! We promise we will be honorable soldiers and elves!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Glorfindel spied a clearly amused Elladan and Elrohir, who were barely able to suppress their laughter.

"Very well," Glorfindel said with as much seriousness as he could muster. "Now, scrub the latrine and I want to be able to eat off the floor when you are done!"

The three offenders scurried away vowing their fealty.

"Brilliant!" Elrohir said as soon as the three were out of earshot.

"I could have done no better myself," Elladan said with a broad grin.

"I can barely wait to see what Erestor does with them. Pity he will be leaving soon, or you could have sent them there for an entire month!" Elrohir said with a grin as he clasped Glorfindel's hand.

"And giving Celebrus such a fierce reputation... that was most certainly genius," Elladan said, shaking Gildor's hand.

Glorfindel took deep breath and smiled. "That was rather entertaining."

Gildor nodded. "We have not had such fun since..."

"Since you did something similar to us after we dyed Arwen's hair purple," Elrohir finished with a grin.

"Come, let us see how well you have healed, Master Elrohir," Gildor said, and the four warriors headed to the training grounds.

To be continued...

Chapter 32:

Summary: A celebration in the Hall of Fire leads to a more private celebration between two lovers.

That eve, a great crowd was gathered in the Hall of Fire to hear tales from Gildor Inglorion of the world at large, and to honor their guest, Galdor of the Havens. The three offenders apologized most humbly to a surprised but satisfied Celebrus, then after the celebratory meal, dancing and revelry ensued. Celebrus sang three solos, which was the cause of much delight to the revelers; even Arwen danced, briefly emerging from the melancholy that had hung over the house after Celebrían's attack.

Galdor's purpose for being there was to travel with both Glorfindel and Gildor as they provided escort to the Lord and Lady of Imladris. The group would make their way to the Havens and from there Celebrían would travel to the Undying Lands. It was both a happy and a sad occasion. While the denizens of Imladris mourned their lady's leaving, all knew she would be happy and whole again in Aman. It was a new beginning for their lady, and the celebration was in honor of that. She was absent, of course, as was Lord Elrond, but the twins and Arwen were hosts in their parents' stead.

The minstrels played on as the vocalists, Celebrus and Lindir, took a break from their work. Celebrus found Gildor waiting for him with a goblet of wine, then he walked with the ancient elf lord onto the veranda. It was a beautiful night, spring was nearly in full birth, as the last of the snows began to melt upon the valley floor. Ithil, resplendent above them, cast her silver beams over the Last Homely House.

Gildor looked at this young Silvan, who seemed to have changed so much during his short absence. Celebrus' hair glowed, the beams of Ithil highlighting the breathtaking silver hue of his locks. Eyes as pale and blue as the spring sky gazed up at him, and he reached out and caressed Celebrus' face. "So lovely," he murmured.

Celebrus smiled as he reached out and ran his fingers down a long strand of pale golden hair. "As are you, Gildor. You are perhaps the most beautiful elf I have ever laid eyes upon."

Gildor smiled. "I am like an old war horse, Celebrus. Still clinging to that which makes me who I am, but years of hard use have faded me."

Celebrus set his goblet down and stepped closer, pressing against Gildor as he looked into the Noldo's eyes. "Nay, my warrior," he said softly. "Not faded, embellished. It is your wisdom, which comes from a hard life lived, that makes you beautiful in my eyes."

"Am I beautiful to you?" Gildor whispered. "For you are, most certainly, beautiful to me."

"Yes," Celebrus whispered. "Most beautiful..." He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against those of his love.

Gildor wrapped his arms around Celebrus and pulled the lithe, young Silvan closer. Slowly they explored each other through the kiss, tongues sliding against one another, soft moans hanging in the air between them.

"Gods," Celebrus breathed as they parted. "You taste just as I remember..."

"I wondered if you have thought of that night," Gildor said softly. "I have, often."

"Your hands, your lips, your body were the last to touch mine," Celebrus whispered. "I will admit that I missed the fire that I feel kindled inside me now, but to find it with anyone else would have been impossible. I could not have, not after that night."

"Am I now the keeper of that flame?" Gildor murmured against Celebrus' neck.

"Oh yes," Celebrus breathed as he ran his hand into Gildor's hair, "and it threatens to rage out of control."

"Do you not yet have more songs to sing, my beauty?" Gildor murmured, a soft, low moan escaping him as Celebrus' long elegant fingers cupped his groin.

"How can I sing now, when you have me in such a state?" Celebrus drew his leg up to the elf lord's thigh, rolling his hips forward as Gildor grasped his leg.

"'Tis a good thing you are wearing robes," Gildor whispered into Celebrus' ear, and he squeezed the Silvan's pert backside as Celebrus laughed softly. "I, however, did not show as much foresight."

"'Twould be a shame to hide this lovely body beneath loose robes," Celebrus purred. "Then I could not admire your strong legs and round buttocks as I walk behind you."

Gildor chuckled. "You are a wicked one, my treasure."

"Only for you, my love," Celebrus murmured, then bestowed a long, slow lick to the curve of Gildor's ear.

While they had moved into the shadows against the veranda wall, they were still in the open, and the soft clearing of someone's throat alerted them that they were not alone. They turned their heads but remained wrapped around each other, and found Elladan and Elrohir standing on the other side of the veranda, in much the same position. Elrohir's ample lips curved into a smile and he whispered, "Lindir has begun to look for you."

Celebrus smiled and nodded, then looked back at his elf lord. "It appears you must release me, but only for a little while."

"Very well," Gildor murmured, "but not before I give you this." He took Celebrus' mouth with passionate intensity.

"Gods, will you look at that," Elladan purred into his twin's ear.

"I know," Elrohir answered. "Just watching them is exciting me beyond reason."

"Gildor cuts a fine form," Elladan replied. "I had never noticed."

"Really?" Elrohir murmured. "I had."

Elladan chuckled quietly, then returned to the patchwork of love bites he was leaving on his twin's throat.

* * * *

The evening seemed to draw on with excruciating slowness for several involved, albeit for different reasons. Arwen yearned to retire to her room where she could be alone with thoughts of what was to come. The twins yearned to retire and make love to one another until the wee hours of the morning. Glorfindel mostly sought a respite from the heated air of the room; it seemed spring was truly upon them. Erestor also sought respite, eagerly awaiting the passage of time until he could be reunited with his beloved Sinda once again. And Celebrus, endeavoring to keep his voice steady and his mind on his music, yearned to make love once again to his staggeringly handsome elf lord.

Finally, the crowds began to dwindle and the hosts formally retired.

"Come," Celebrus breathed, grasping Gildor's hand and nearly dragging him from the Hall of Fire.

"And where do you lead me, my saucy beauty?" Gildor queried as he followed Celebrus up the winding stair to the upper levels of the Last Homely House.

"To my chambers, where I plan to properly bed you this night," Celebrus replied with a smile over his shoulder.

"Indeed," Gildor murmured.

As they reached Celebrus' chamber door, he quickly pulled the Noldo inside and began furiously pulling at the ties on Gildor's tunic. "I need to touch you," he breathed. "I need to know you are real."

Gildor quickly opened the clasps on the younger elf's robe and slid the heavy garment from his lean shoulders. "I am most certainly real," Gildor answered as his hands wandered over Celebrus' lean chest.

"Oh, sweet Valar," Celebrus moaned. "Your touch sets my skin on fire." He peeled the tunic from Gildor's shoulders. "Look how my hands tremble."

Gildor grasped Celebrus' hands in his own. "Ssshh... my beauty. I shall still them and calm your racing heart."

"How?" Celebrus whispered, trembling in anticipation, tears of both need and profound affection stinging in his eyes.

"Like this," Gildor whispered, and he pressed his lips to his lover's.

Celebrus arched into Gildor's arms, his body aflame and a delicious ache pooling in his groin. He moaned into the kiss, pressing their bodies together as he rubbed his leg along Gildor's hip. The delicious feel of velvet against his bare thigh caused him to shudder, then he moaned plaintively as Gildor enfolded him in his arms.

He could feel Gildor's heart beating against his chest, their bare skin touching, his lover's hands roaming his back. "How can this be?" he whispered into Gildor's ear.

"How can what be, my beauty?" Gildor murmured into his ear.

"How can I be in love with you?"

Gildor smiled. "Do not question why, my love. The heart is oft wiser than the mind."

Celebrus smiled and blinked back tears. "Do you . . . do you love me?"

"Aye, I do, my treasure," Gildor answered. "As sure as Anor rises and sets, I do love you." He lifted Celebrus into his arms and carried him to the bed, where they made love until dawn.

* * * *

Erestor stood on the steps to the Last Homely House, watching the caravan that bore his lady pull away. It was the last Middle-earth would ever see of the Lady Celebrían. Her mother and father accompanied her, as well as her children, and her beloved husband. Glorfindel and Gildor led the armed escort, accompanied by Galdor, as they traveled south and west, to the Grey Havens.

Upon their return, Erestor would undertake a journey of his own. This one would travel south, then east before rounding the mountains and heading north again. Within two months' time, he would see his beloved prince again. It would be both a joyous and difficult meeting, one he hoped would not come to a bitter end.

He turned and entered the house, smiling at Celebrus, whose gaze was still fixed on a fair-haired Noldo who rode at the front of the line.

Gildor turned and lifted himself up so that he could see his beloved. He smiled and raised his hand high, his heart was warmed when that gesture was returned. "See you soon, my love," he murmured to himself.

Glorfindel looked back at Celebrus and smiled. This would be happy news to deliver to his beloved; that Thranduil's one-time courtesan was an honored musician and in love with one of the noblest of the Noldor. He cast a sidelong glance at Gildor, who settled back upon his horse. His old friend looked happy, peaceful even, and that was something Glorfindel had not seen from Gildor for a very long time.

To be continued...

Chapter 33:

Summary: The family of Elrond returns and Erestor and Glorfindel leave.

The weeks that it took for the caravan to get to the Havens and return were the longest of both Erestor's and Celebrus' lives. Celebrus occupied himself with his music while Erestor occupied himself with his work and the torment of the three miscreants under his tutelage. However, once those weeks were finished, the three one-time troublemakers were polished Imladris representatives and had a far better understanding of the importance of honor.

Celebrus was returning from the rehearsal hall when he heard the first sounds of hoof beats on the road to the main gate. He tucked his lute under his arm and ran toward those gates, arriving just in time to see Elrond's host canter through them. Eagerly, he awaited his beloved, who had a brief conversation with the stable hands before turning in his direction.

A broad smile curved the elf lord's lips as he approached Celebrus with quickening strides. Celebrus laughed as he was hoisted into the air and swung in a large arc, then his mouth was consumed in a kiss. At length, he was released and set down. Elves milled all around them but he saw not a one; the only elf he saw was the one who had won his well-guarded heart.

"I missed you," he said softly.

"I missed you as well, my love," Gildor replied. "Come, I must stow my belongings."

Celebrus smiled at Glorfindel, who smiled broadly back as he passed, led by the hand of his lover.

Elladan and Elrohir smiled briefly and winked at Glorfindel before escorting their sister to her chambers.

Erestor greeted his lord at the foot of the stairs, having been informed by one of his young assistants that the group had arrived. "How fares she, my lord?" he asked quietly.

"Ill," Elrond answered, "but my hope is that will change now."

"That is my hope as well, my lord."

Elrond regarded his old friend thoughtfully. "You have been a good and wise friend to me, Erestor."

"Thank you, my lord."

"'Tis time I was a good friend to you in return."

"My lord?"

"Go, pack your bags. Glorfindel is as eager to leave as you are. I imagine he will not want to wait until morn."

Erestor smiled broadly. "Thank you, my lord." He bowed his head and covered his heart with his hand, then quickly withdrew so that he could prepare to depart.

Erestor nearly crashed into Glorfindel in his haste to reach his rooms. "Oh! For Eru's sake, Glorfindel. Can you not be more careful?"

Glorfindel grasped his friend's arms and caught him before he fell backward. "My apologies, Erestor. I was just coming to find you. I think we should..."

"Leave now," Erestor finished.

Glorfindel frowned. "I beg your pardon? I know I bumped into you, but I hardly think that is cause to..."

"No, you oaf!" Erestor interrupted. "You want to leave now . . . for Mirkwood. You know, that place where your lover rules?"

Glorfindel laughed. "Aye, too much time on the back of a horse and not enough sleeping in a bed, I think."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"ARE WE LEAVING?!?"

Glorfindel patted his old friend on the shoulder. "Yes, Erestor. We are leaving. If you are finished wasting time here, that is."

"For Elbereth's sake!"

Erestor brushed past a clearly amused Glorfindel and hurriedly packed his travel sack.

* * * *

Celebrus entered Gildor's quarters for the first time and looked around. It felt as though the two of them had been lovers forever, when in fact, it had been less than two months. Twice they had lain together: the first time in the shepherd's hut, the second in Celebrus' chambers. As Celebrus was swept up in his lover's arms, it appeared there was about to be a third.

"Tell me you missed me as much as I missed you," Gildor murmured against Celebrus' throat.

"I did, I most certainly did," Celebrus breathed, his lute slipping from his grasp and falling to the floor with a dull thud.

"I dreamt of you," Gildor murmured huskily, "of your skin, of your scent, of your beautiful moans..."

"I dreamt of you as well," Celebrus replied. "Of your strong, beautiful body, of the way you touch me, of the way you take me..."

"Mmm... you like it when I do that, do you not, my love?"

"Yes," Celebrus whispered. "I love the way you feel inside me."

"But," Gildor murmured between kisses as he unbuttoned his lover's tunic, "do you not yearn to take? Do you not ever wish to know the other side of the pleasure you give?"

Celebrus moaned as Gildor's teeth marked his throat, then he sighed as his lover's tongue soothed the ache. "I have known that pleasure before," he whispered.

"With your king?" Gildor asked, his dark eyes staring into Celebrus' lust-glazed orbs.

"No," Celebrus whispered huskily, "with his son."

He was not sure what made him say it but there it was, out in the open. He had told his lover that he had shared the bed of both the Crowned King and the Crowned Prince of Mirkwood.

Gildor regarded his lover thoughtfully. It made sense, of course, that Celebrus would know them both carnally. The thought was more than titillating, but did not bear further query.

"I think you should know it with me," he said huskily. "It has been an age since anyone has."

Celebrus took Gildor's face in his hands. "I swear to you, Gildor. I am finished with that life. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever love."

Gildor smiled and kissed his beloved. "I believe you," he murmured, "and you are the same one for me: my beloved, my soul's mate." He caressed Celebrus' face. "Take me now, my love."

Celebrus pushed Gildor into the bedroom and onto the bed. The sensual smile that curved his lover's lips was intoxicating. "Take you, I shall, my warrior," he murmured as his fingers worked the laces on his lover's leggings. "I vow, you will have never felt anything like it, nor will you ever with another."

"I have no need for another, my beloved Celebrus. You are my sun and moon and all the stars in the sky besides."

"Gods, how I love you, Gildor Inglorion," Celebrus whispered as he slipped his own leggings off and pressed a deep kiss to his lover's lips.

Many would have thought that Celebrus' lithe build and smaller stature would be a detriment to his taking a dominant role, however, Gildor had lived long enough to know that one could not judge a book by its cover. Initiated by a king, educated in the ways of love by one who was certainly notorious for his appreciation for pleasure in its myriad of forms, this one-time courtesan could probably teach him a thing or two.

He lifted his hips as Celebrus pulled his leggings off along with his boots. A warm tongue, soft and wet, trailed its way up his legs as he sighed. His thighs began to tremble in anticipation as his skilled lover worked his way up his body. He groaned deeply as his turgid arousal was engulfed by that hot, wet mouth, gentle suction and a swirling tongue rapidly bringing him to the edge. Fisting the covers, he arched off the bed, a deep, guttural cry escaping him as Celebrus' relentless attentions brought him to climax.

Still reeling, he felt a soft tap-tap on his hip and he opened his eyes.

"Roll to your stomach, lover," Celebrus murmured, and Gildor complied eagerly, if not a bit slowly.

"Gods!" he gasped as Celebrus drew his warm, wet, sinfully delicious tongue up the cleft of his backside.

"Mmm... I promise that will not be the last time you cry out this afternoon, my love," Celebrus whispered huskily. He had learned his lessons well, this Silvan, bringing his lover back to full arousal, causing Gildor to writhe beneath him. "I need something to ease the passage, lover," he whispered.

Gildor was breathing heavily, his erect length trapped beneath his weight. He pointed to a bedside table and Celebrus withdrew a phial of sweet smelling almond oil used to ease aching hands. Celebrus coated himself and his fingers liberally, then slowly, gently, slid one into his beloved's entrance.

Gildor shuddered, a soft, plaintive moan escaping his lips. For the briefest of moments, memories of old flashed in his mind, of another lover, who was not nearly so gentle or so wise in the ways of the flesh. Celebrus' soft voice chased those old memories away as his lover murmured encouraging words into his ear, and Gildor closed his eyes and surrendered his body and his heart to his beloved.

Celebrus took his time, sensing the tension in his lover's body. Ignoring the urgent call of his own unabated desire, he ensured his beloved was ready before he took Gildor's lean, strong hips in his hands and pressed forward.

The first slow thrust nearly took his breath away. Wadding the covers in his fists, Gildor opened his eyes and took in the familiar rooms he had lived in off and on since the Second Age. Eyes open, he could push away the other room, the orange candlelight, the dark silken hair that framed the elf's face, his own piercing cry accompanied by the deep growl of one obsessed. He had been young then; he was not young any longer. A deep moan slipped from his lips as his beloved slowly moved, soft caresses, warm kisses, and words so filled with love that the hearing of them nearly shattered his heart.

Gildor was so tight, like one untried, and Celebrus drew on his own self-control and the memory of his first time, of how gentle his king was, how slow and careful, and how loving. That was what he wanted to be for his beloved; indeed, that was what Gildor said that he was to him: his sun and moon and all the stars besides. How had he earned this? How did so beautiful and gentle an elf find him after he had taken such great pains to hide his heart away? How could one who had seen so much darkness be so kind?

"I love you," he whispered into Gildor's ear as he began to move within his lover.

Gildor turned his head, seeking his lover's lips. "I love you, Celebrus," he whispered. "You feel so good, so very good."

Celebrus smiled. "As do you, my love. No one has ever felt better."

Slowly their passion built, their moans intensified, and Celebrus felt his climax fast approaching. Taking his lover in hand, he brought Gildor to completion, then cried out as he found his own. He lingered, his hands absently caressing his beloved's sweat-slicked back as he slowly slipped from his body.

Gildor fell on his side to the bed and lazily grasped his lover, pulling Celebrus into his arms. Brushing the hair back from the Silvan's face, he smiled. "I wish I could explain how I feel," he said softly. "I wish I could tell you what you just did for me."

Celebrus smiled sleepily and began kissing his lover's face. "It could not have possibly been as good as what you just did for me."

Gildor smiled and chuckled as he held his beloved in his arms. "I do so love you."

Celebrus kissed his lover's chest. "Mmm... and I love you."

The lovers drifted in and out of reverie as day slowly gave way to night.

To be continued...

Chapter 34:

Summary: Two reunions, one worrisome, one terrifying.

The road to Mirkwood was arduous and long. The pair rode hard during the day and slept at night, avoiding men and orcs alike. The days when two elves, even ones as experienced and skilled in war craft as Erestor and Glorfindel, could ride in the open seemed to be long gone. The path through the southern pass and the valley between Lórien and Dol Guldur was the most dangerous. But, as old tales told, there was nothing that could stand between lovers.

When they reached the elf path, Glorfindel waited for the Mirkwood archers to drop upon them from the trees. However, there was no such greeting. Slowly they proceeded, picking their way past burned trees, their apprehension growing by the moment. It was nearing nightfall and they were determined not to spend the night in this dark forest. They rode on, bows at the ready, eyes scanning the trail ahead and the treetops above. Burned trees gave way to thick forest and then the Enchanted River. The ferry was on the far side, and they had ridden all the way from the Anduin Vale without so much as a sighting of an elf.

This was most alarming to both of them, for they both knew how diligent Mirkwood forces were. Glorfindel lassoed a low branch on a tree on the far side of the river and swung across, ferrying the boat back for Erestor. By the time they neared the caves they were at full gallop, and were taken quite by surprise when they were unceremoniously knocked from their horses by a device brought to Mirkwood by the Noldor.

Glorfindel heard the sharp twang of the rope, but it was far too late to stop his stallion. The knotted rope struck both him and Erestor hard in the chest, knocking them from their horses' backs. They struck the ground hard, their breath leaving their lungs in a pained out-rush of air. Rolling to their sides, gasping for breath, and blindly reaching for their weapons, they were soon surrounded by Silvan elves with bows at the ready.

"Stay your hands!" the captain called. "It is Lord Glorfindel!"

An apologetic captain and several Silvan warriors, who also served as healers, quickly attended to them.

Erestor grumbled as he finally found his breath and batted their hands away, looking woefully at his split quiver, which had broken under the force of his fall. Glorfindel stood bent over, his hands on his knees as he finally recovered his breath.

The captain quickly told them of the fierce battle with the Nazgûl, of how they had lost many warriors, Noldor and Silvan alike. Erestor paled when he learned of Legolas' fall from his horse, and how he had still not woken, despite the fact that the battle occurred three weeks prior.

They quickly mounted and galloped on with a Silvan escort to prevent further interruption of their progress. The gates to Thranduil's caves opened with a groan as they crossed the bridge, and they entered an eerily quiet courtyard. Taking the steps three at a time, they rushed inside the caves, led by the king's herald.

They found father and son in Legolas' room. Thranduil looked drawn and exhausted as he sat by his son's bed, holding Legolas' limp hand in his own trembling ones. His normally sparkling blue eyes were vacant, his warm alabaster flesh pale to the eyes and to the touch. Glorfindel could not hide the tremor in his hands as he knelt beside his beloved, his heart breaking at the sight of a defeated warrior.

Erestor quickly sat on the side of Legolas' bed, picking up the prince's other hand and rubbing it. "Please, my love," he whispered. "Wake, love, I am here. Open your beautiful eyes and look at me..."

Thranduil looked at Glorfindel as if he did not recognize him for a moment, then he nearly fell forward into Glorfindel's arms. Tears streamed from Glorfindel's eyes as he held his beloved and tried to reassure him. "He but sleeps, my love," the warrior whispered. "Mandos is not ready for him yet, I promise you."

Thranduil made no reply; he only clung to his beloved and buried his face in Glorfindel's hair, still holding the hand of his son.

"Come, Thranduil," Glorfindel murmured. "You must rest; you will be no good for Legolas if you are weak when he awakes. Erestor will look after him, he will call us when the prince wakes." He slowly guided his lover to his feet after Thranduil gently kissed Legolas' hand, then laid it on the bed. They began to walk out of the prince's room when the king's knees buckled and Glorfindel caught him, lifting him and carrying him to his chambers.

Erestor stretched out on the bed beside Legolas, still holding the prince's hand in his own as he laid his head upon a pillow. "I will stay here, my love," he whispered. "I will wait for you until you are ready to return."

As night gave way to day, Erestor watched his beloved prince, who looked so peaceful in his slumber.

* * * *

Glorfindel held his beloved in his arms as they lay in the king's wide bed. Thranduil stared blankly at the wall as Glorfindel stroked his hair, softly humming to him. He glanced down and watched as the king blinked wearily, his heavy eyelids slowly closing and then opening again. "Sleep, my love," he whispered. "I will be here when you wake."

Reluctantly, Thranduil surrendered and closed his eyes, falling into an exhausted sleep while his beloved held him in his arms.

* * * *

Erestor kept his vigil, accompanied by the king and Glorfindel, for two days, leaving Legolas' side only once to bathe and change out of his traveling clothes. On the third night, as silence hung around them like a shroud, Erestor closed his eyes, renewing his prayer to Mandos to guide his lover back to him.

Legolas drew a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open slowly. He felt a hand in his own and he turned his head to see his beloved lying beside him. Erestor was sleeping, his eyes glazed in reverie, his expression blank. If it were not for the slow rising and falling of his chest while he breathed, Legolas would have thought him passed. He moved to reach across to touch Erestor and winced, opting instead to squeeze the counselor's hand.

Erestor felt a gentle squeeze to his hand and he blinked, his eyes clearing and meeting the bright blue gaze of his beloved. "Legolas!" he exclaimed. "You have woken!"

Legolas smiled groggily and nodded. "Aye. When did you arrive?" he asked sleepily. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember was the Nazgûl and the winged serpents they rode upon. My horse reared and then I remember nothing after that."

Erestor kissed Legolas' face and enfolded the prince in his arms. "Thank the Valar that you woke, my love," he whispered. "I feared you lost to Mandos."

Legolas smiled and gingerly wrapped his arms around Erestor. "I could never leave you behind, my love," he answered.

Erestor released him and noted the grimace on his prince's face. "Are you in pain?" he asked softly.

"Just stiff," Legolas answered. "I feel as though I have not moved for weeks."

"That is true," Erestor answered, then pressed a kiss to Legolas' forehead. "You have lain perfectly still for nigh on a month."

"A month?" Legolas asked, his brow furrowed.

"You are awake now," Erestor murmured. "That is all that matters." He released Legolas and made to rise from the bed. "I must inform your father, he is sick with worry."

Legolas squeezed Erestor's hand. "Is he well? I remember seeing him fall as my horse reared. I called out to him, but then all went dark."

"He was wounded, but has recovered physically. He is with Glorfindel now; seeing you awake will make him hale again." Erestor smiled and kissed Legolas softly on the lips. "My brave prince," he whispered.

Legolas smiled and then watched Erestor leave his chamber to fetch his father.

* * * *

Glorfindel and Thranduil awoke to the sound of the king's chamber door opening. For a brief moment, Thranduil felt his heart stop as he feared his son had passed. They saw Erestor standing in the doorway, a smile curving his lips.

"He has returned, my lord."

Glorfindel closed his eyes and said a quiet prayer of thanks to Mandos, then quickly rose and followed Thranduil to Legolas' chamber.

"Greenleaf," Thranduil said as he sat on the side of his son's bed, leaning over, taking Legolas' face in his hands, and kissing the prince's forehead. "Thank the Valar..."

"Father," Legolas said quietly, "I am sorry that I worried you."

"Oh, Legolas," Thranduil said softly. "I am just so happy that you have returned."

"Are you well, Father?" Legolas asked as Thranduil released face and took his hand.

"I am now," Thranduil answered, kissing his son's hand and holding it close to his chest. He looked to Glorfindel. "Now I have what I need most, my son returned and my beloved by my side." Legolas smiled, then frowned for a moment. "What is it, Greenleaf?"

"I am hungry," Legolas answered.

Erestor chuckled. "And well you should be, you have not had a bite to eat for almost a month! Look at you! You have almost wasted to nothing!"

Legolas grinned. "Some stew would be nice, and some tea?"

"Anything you wish," Erestor answered. "I intend to have you fattened back up in no time."

Thranduil laughed softly and shook his head. "Your love is a formidable elf, my son. One can see he is determined."

Legolas grinned and looked up at Erestor. "Yes, he is as stubborn as an ox when he puts his mind to something. Thankfully, this time I am in agreement with him."

Glorfindel squeezed Thranduil's shoulder. "Come, my love. Let us leave Legolas in Erestor's hands. I know another elf that needs care, and I intend to give it."

Thranduil looked up at his lover. "I will gratefully accept it." He stood and placed an arm around Glorfindel's waist. "We will return later in the day," he said to Legolas. "Perhaps the four of us should take a walk."

Legolas smiled and nodded. "Aye, that sounds most wonderful. I am quite tired of lying abed." He watched his father and Glorfindel depart, and then chuckled as Erestor began giving direction to his chambermaid as to what needed to be done next.

"A large bowl of stew, with fresh baked bread, if there is any available, and a large pot of black tea. Oh, and fresh bed linens, and a hot bath; if it is not too much trouble." The chambermaid smiled and nodded, turning to gather the requested items. "And fresh flowers!" Erestor called after her.

"Yes, my lord," she answered, concealing a smile as she turned her head.

* * * *

Glorfindel lay beside Thranduil, brushing his lover's hair behind his ear. Thranduil looked back at him, a weary smile upon his lips.

"Tell me, Glorfindel," Thranduil whispered softly. "How fares my fox?"

Glorfindel smiled. "He fares very well, my love. He has become a respected musician in Elrond's service, and . . ." His smile broadened. "He is in love."

Thranduil beamed as he put his hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "In love? So soon? I could not have asked for such happy fortune."

"His beloved is a noble elf, revered among my kindred. A soldier, of the highest quality."

"Who?" Thranduil asked. "Who is this elf?"

"Gildor Inglorion," Glorfindel answered.

Thranduil's expression dimmed. "He is a follower of Fëanor; he is a Kinslayer."

"I was a follower of Fëanor, as was Erestor," Glorfindel chided. "He was caught up in the battle at Alqualondë, but it was not of his doing. He had to fight or die."

Thranduil closed his eyes. "Does Celebrus know?"

"Yes, and he loves him still." He caressed Thranduil's cheek. "Gildor has suffered for many years because of what happened, Thranduil. He has spent a lifetime atoning for it. Does he not deserve a second chance?"

Thranduil sighed. "Does he love Celebrus?"

Glorfindel smiled and pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead. "He does indeed, my love. Gildor would give his life for Celebrus."

"Then I am satisfied," Thranduil answered.

"Come," Glorfindel said softly. "Take your rest in my arms, my love."

Thranduil held his lover tight and drifted into an exhausted sleep.

To be continued...

Chapter 35:

Summary: The lovers reunite in the most passionate of ways and Erestor surprises himself.

Legolas quickly regained his strength and within days was back to his normal self. He leaned back against his lover, his hands softly stroking Erestor's thighs, his bare feet dangling off the low ledge into the cool river.

Erestor smiled, gazing upon his young lover. Legolas was so elegant; his lean body was slowly beginning to look like a warrior's again. His prince reclined between his legs with his tunic open to soak up Anor's rays and his leggings pushed up around his knees, as the cool waters of the stream gently swirled around his long, slender legs. Erestor always felt the urge to protect his prince, though he knew Legolas did not need his protection. His lover was an accomplished warrior, brilliant with strategy, and deadly with weapons. So much accomplished in so short a life; that was always a source of amazement to Erestor. When he was Legolas' age, he was still living in Aman and still training to be a warrior.

"Swim with me," Legolas said, as he twisted at the waist and looked into his lover's eyes. "The water is so refreshing."

Erestor raised an eyebrow. "Is it not cold?"

Legolas chuckled. "Come now, Counselor, do not tell me that you are afraid of a little cold water. You are growing far too pampered behind that desk of yours."

"Pampered?" Erestor raised an eyebrow. "You think me pampered? Why, you little imp; I will have you know I have suffered hardships far greater than you can imagine. The First Age was no warm afternoon garden party, you know."

Legolas chuckled. "Come, old one, swim with me." He quickly pulled his knees to his chest and gained his feet.

"Old one? Old one?" Erestor scowled mockingly at his lover. "See here, my pup..."

Legolas snickered as he pulled off his tunic and tossed it aside. "Come, Counselor," he murmured as he removed his braids. "Do you not like what you see?"

Erestor gained his feet, working the clasps on his tunic as he gazed at his lover. "Oh, I like what I see very much."

Legolas unlaced his breeches. "It can be yours for a small price," he said sultrily.

"What price is that?"

"A dip in the river, my dark beauty." Legolas slid his breeches past his hips and stepped out of them, smiling at his lover's reaction. He then turned and hopped off the low bank, into the river.

Erestor shed his own leggings and removed his braids, then joined his lover in the cool, slowly running current. He waded to where Legolas stood; the water rose to his waist and the smooth pebbles of the streambed ground against each other beneath his feet. Legolas knelt and dipped below the water, then rose and flipped his wet mane behind his back. Erestor looked at his beloved, at how the water trickled down his lovely face, running in rivulets down his sculpted chest, curving around his erect nipples before coalescing, flowing in a single stream down the middle of his abdomen. Legolas was so beautiful, so full of life, so sensual. A pang of guilt gnawed at him as he remembered the last time he looked upon one in a similar situation to this; at how he gazed upon dark hair and slightly tanned skin, upon silver eyes and full lips. He closed his eyes briefly. He had to tell Legolas about Elladan, but now was not the time; not so soon after the prince woke, not so soon after they were reunited.

He drew Legolas into his arms, his hands sliding across wet skin, his lips finding a perfectly sculpted ear. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, my beautiful Erestor," Legolas murmured. "Come, my love, take me as you have before; make me yours again."

Erestor brushed his lips along the curve of Legolas' ear. "Again?" he murmured. "Have you not always been mine?"

Legolas closed his eyes, guilt and passion warred inside him. "Aye, my love," he answered. "I have always been yours."

* * * *

Thranduil moaned softly, his fingers gently wadding the silk of his lover's tunic as he clutched at Glorfindel's back. The Noldo's warm, soft, deliciously wicked tongue was doing sinful things to his ear, and he pressed up into the warrior's weight. Worn, soft leather moved against pliable, crushed velvet as their legs entwined and Glorfindel pressed him into the tall, soft grass. Thranduil slid one hand down the long, powerful curve of the Elda's back and grasped Glorfindel's perfectly round and taut backside, earning a groan from the Noldo. "Sweet Elbereth," Thranduil breathed, feeling too hot in his tunic and leggings.

"Mmm..." Glorfindel murmured against his ear. "I am not sure how long I can continue thus. You taste so good, you feel so good."

"I do not care that someone will find us," Thranduil whispered huskily. "I want you now."

"It is not just anyone that will find us," Glorfindel murmured, "It is the bevy of young maidens who are picking flowers on the other side of this hill."

Thranduil wadded Glorfindel's golden locks in his fist. "Then let them get an education in the ways of male lovemaking; perhaps they can take what they learn to their marriage beds..."

Glorfindel laughed softly. "You are wicked, Thranduil Oropherion."

"What I am is hungry for you," Thranduil answered.

Glorfindel drew back and gazed down at his beloved. Thranduil's eyes were dark with passion, his lips swollen from kissing, his face beautifully flushed with his desire. Delicate flowers were tangled in his mussed hair, his braids half undone, fresh love marks on his throat. His lover looked so deliciously debauched, so wantonly beautiful. Their clothing was a frustrating barrier between them, one that could easily be removed. Yet, Glorfindel found this act so enticing that he wanted to prolong it just a while longer.

"Silence, my wanton king," he murmured, then covered Thranduil's mouth in a kiss before his lover could protest.

Thranduil groaned into the kiss, partly out of need and partly out of frustration. He wanted to take his lover, to ride him until they were both spent, yet each time he reached for the clasps on Glorfindel's tunic, or the laces to the Noldo's wickedly tight leather breeches, Glorfindel grasped his wrists and forcibly pulled his hands away. His lover was determined to drive him to the point of exhaustion with this foreplay. He was so hard he ached, and he rolled his hips, seeking any point of contact with his lover's own turgid arousal, even if that was through the frustrating clothing they wore.

"Must I beg?" he whispered hoarsely as Glorfindel released his mouth.

Glorfindel smiled down at his lover, who looked pleadingly at him though his jaw was clenched in frustration. "Thranduil Oropherion, proud King of Mirkwood, begging?" he teased.

Thranduil struggled against him, arching his back and trying vainly to pull his wrists from Glorfindel's grasp. "You mock me," he growled. "You do this to me, then you mock me." He tried to buck his hips and toss the warrior off him, but it was to no avail. Glorfindel was larger and heavier than he was.

"I do not mock you, my beautiful lover," Glorfindel answered softly, attempting to recapture Thranduil's mouth in a kiss as the king tossed his head. "I love you. I merely wanted to prolong this enjoyment."

Thranduil stilled and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "You are the only one I have submitted to this way," he said softly. "I am not used to giving control to another."

"I will not misuse that gift, my love," Glorfindel murmured against his lover's lips. "Come, let us return to your bed where we may properly show one another how we feel; I would not leave you so wanting."

Thranduil surrendered to his lover's kiss, moaning deeply as Glorfindel made a thorough perusal of his mouth. "I love you, Glorfindel," he whispered breathlessly as his lover released his mouth.

"Come," Glorfindel answered, raising off his lover and pulling him from the ground. "Show me how much you love me."

Thranduil smiled sultrily. "With pleasure."

* * * *

Legolas wadded Erestor's wet hair in his fists as he leaned back against a smooth rock. He leaned his head back, slowly rolling it from left to right as his lover consumed him. Soft moans, both his own and Erestor's, and quiet sucking sounds filled his ears as he fought to remain still, to let Erestor direct their lovemaking. His legs began to tremble and he felt the Noldo's hands upon them, drawing him into a half-sitting position on Erestor's shoulders. "Oh, Gods, Erestor," he whispered. "Please, my love, no more." A strangled moan escaped him as he felt his length swell again, and once more, his lover squeezed its root. Erestor ignored his plea, continuing to draw him in and take him deeper, each pass slowly building in speed upon his aching, weeping length.

He arched his back, the cool late spring air carrying spray from the small waterfall nearby. The water misted over his overheated and sensitive skin, raising gooseflesh on his arms and chest. Each climax came faster and stronger than the last, and again he felt his body burn and his muscles tighten as Erestor's talented fingers found their mark inside his body. "Please!" he breathed, then he cried out as his lover released him and his climax burst into his lover's mouth. His body convulsed as he bent forward, his arms and legs trembling as he shuddered in the wake of his release.

Panting, he caressed Erestor's wet hair, pressing his lips to the top of the counselor's head. "By the Valar..." he whispered hoarsely.

Erestor withdrew, licking his lips as he looked up into Legolas' dark eyes. "Look at you," he murmured. "Never has their been a more beautiful elf in all of Arda." He slid Legolas' legs off his shoulders and stood. "Nor has there been one so sweet. Come, taste yourself, my prince." He kissed Legolas deeply, plundering the Sinda's mouth with a voracious intensity.

Legolas moaned softly into the kiss, allowing Erestor to support his still trembling body. "I love you," he whispered, as his lover released his mouth. "There is nothing I have that I would not willingly give you."

Erestor nuzzled Legolas' ear, his hands squeezing the Sinda's perfect backside. "Come, let me make love to you in the tall grass, my love." He lifted Legolas into his arms, and the prince wrapped his long legs around his waist. Carrying his lover into a small clearing, he lay him down and moved atop him, covering Legolas' body with kisses as he stroked himself, spreading his own essence along his turgid and aching length. "Are you sure about this, my love?" he murmured into Legolas' ear. "I have nothing to ease the passage."

"I am sure," Legolas breathed as he undulated against his beloved.

Erestor guided Legolas to roll to his side, and he lay down behind the prince, drawing Legolas' leg up to his chest. Placing the tip of his arousal at his lover's entrance, he slowly pushed his slick member inside his beloved's body.

Legolas closed his eyes, exhaling softly as Erestor pushed inside and filled him to the brink. A deep moan issued from Erestor's lips, and the Noldo reached between his legs and took Legolas' sated length in his hand.

"I want to take my time with you," Erestor murmured huskily.

Legolas reached behind him, placing his hand on the back of Erestor's neck, moaning deeply as his beloved suckled the base of his throat. The Noldo moved slowly within him, leisurely making love to him in the afternoon sun. Erestor struck his mark with unerring skill, sending bolts of liquid fire roaring through his veins. Legolas arched against his lover, endeavoring to meet his thrusts, his own moans increasing in intensity as Erestor's motion slowly began to build.

Erestor slid his hand through the sweat that covered his prince's chest, fingers circling then teasing pebbled nipples to full hardness while his other hand slowly stroked the prince's swollen and pulsing length, bringing his love to full arousal once more. His own body ached for completion, the long afternoon of lovemaking beginning to take its toll. It came upon him quickly, starting in his core and spreading rapidly throughout his body. Shifting his weight and guiding Legolas to his hands and knees, he began thrusting fiercely, pumping his lover's length in time with his motion. Their moans increased as their bodies rocked and slammed together until finally he could endure no more.

Erestor's final thrust sent Legolas rocking forward beneath him, and his lover cried out as he found his mark, then spilled himself over his hand. Legolas' tightening body squeezed him mercilessly and he growled deep as he filled his lover with his essence. Trembling, they slowly lowered themselves to the soft grass, and Erestor held Legolas to his chest. He brushed his lover's flaxen hair from his shoulder and placed a soft kiss upon the base of his neck.

"I missed you, my love," he murmured.

Legolas smiled and purred like a cat, stretching his feline limbs against his lover's body. "And I missed you," he answered in a deep, husky whisper.

The words left Erestor's mouth before he even registered them: "Bond with me," he said.

Legolas stilled against him, and Erestor swore he felt the prince's heart stop beneath his hand.

Slowly, the Sinda rolled to face him, bright blue eyes wide in disbelief and shimmering with unshed tears. "Do you mean that?" Legolas whispered.

"I do," Erestor answered. This time he knew what he was saying, and for the briefest of moments, he was thankful his heart had over-ridden his mind, just that one time.

A smile slowly bloomed on his lover's lips and Legolas answered, "I will." Then Erestor found his mouth consumed in a passionate kiss.

To be continued...

Chapter 36:

Summary: Thranduil and Glorfindel make good use of one another, and a tearful farewell in Imladris.

Thranduil pulled his lover through the door, kicking it closed behind him before grabbing Glorfindel and pulling the warrior hard against him. Glorfindel grunted as he made forceful contact with the Sinda's strong form, and he moaned as Thranduil fisted his hair and plundered his mouth. The two elves stumbled backwards toward the bed, kicking off their boots as they went.

Glorfindel was first to hit the mattress and Thranduil followed, covering the Elda's body with his own. He quickly worked the clasps on Glorfindel's tunic as he growled, "I want you naked, now!"

Glorfindel jerked the ties on the king's tunic and struggled to peel it from his body as Thranduil returned the favor. He sat up just long enough for Thranduil to pull his tunic off and toss it across the room, then he was forced back down into the soft bedding and assaulted by his lover's mouth. "Gods!" he breathed as his lover latched onto a pebbled nipple, drawing on it with his mouth before nipping it with his teeth. He pulled the laces to Thranduil's leggings and tugged them past the king's hips.

Thranduil rose and stood, quickly pulling his leggings off as Glorfindel unlaced his own. Gripping the hems of the leather breeches, he yanked as Glorfindel raised his hips, quickly divesting his Noldorin lover of his last remaining garments.

Glorfindel groaned as his lover engulfed his rigid and weeping arousal, and he fisted the Sinda's hair. He gasped as Thranduil gripped his legs, raising them and spreading them further apart, then he moaned wantonly as his lover's warm tongue lapped at his entrance. "I thought . . . you . . . were . . . yielding to . . . me," he croaked in between sharp breaths. "Sweet Elbereth!" he gasped as his lover's tongue slid inside his body.

After a thorough perusal of his lover's bottom, Thranduil looked up and with a feral grin replied, "I changed my mind." He then slid a single digit inside his beloved.

"I must protest," Glorfindel breathed as he arched against the bed. "The advantage was mine in the field."

"Yes, but it is mine here," Thranduil countered, as he added a second digit. "'Tis the price you pay for tormenting me so in the meadow." He moved so that he leaned in between his lover's strong legs and reached up, taking both of Glorfindel's hands in one of his own and pulling them above the Noldo's head. "Tell me you do not enjoy this, Glorfindel. Tell me that you do not like playing the slave as much as playing the master."

Glorfindel looked into his lover's dark eyes and felt Thranduil's turgid length slide between his legs as his fingers moved within his body. He moved against him, grinding his arousal against the king's stomach and pressing into Thranduil's hand. "Are you going to talk, or are you going to take me, your majesty?" he challenged.

Thranduil smiled and leaned down for a kiss, not at all surprised by the intensity of his lover's response. He kissed his lover deeply, his tongue sweeping over Glorfindel's before drawing the Noldo's tongue into his own mouth and swallowing his beloved's cry as he found his mark.

"Oh, I am going to take you and I am going to ride you hard, Noldo," Thranduil murmured huskily as he released Glorfindel's mouth. "I am going to ride you so hard that you will lose the ability to speak. Moans and cries will replace your challenging words, and you will not know whether to beg me to stop, or beg me to finish you."

Glorfindel groaned as Thranduil removed his fingers and moved from between his legs, grasping one hip and flipping him to his stomach. He attempted escape but was quickly caught, pinned to the bed once again as Thranduil opened the drawer of the bedside table. He grunted as he squirmed, attempting escape, albeit half-heartedly. It was more for effect than anything else; his resistance caused the fevered pitch of the seduction to rise even more.

Three oiled fingers slid inside him and he moaned, still attempting to crawl out from underneath his Sindarin King, but not making a concerted effort to succeed. Should he desire it, he could escape, and most likely cause injury in the process, but he was getting exactly what he wanted. It had been a long time since they had engaged in such forceful love play. Glorfindel groaned through his clenched teeth as Thranduil found his mark and he felt his swollen and weeping arousal twitch beneath him. No sooner were the king's fingers removed then he was impaled with his lover's length. "Ah, Gods!" he cried as he was filled to the point of splitting open. He could feel Thranduil's warm, soft breath on his ear as he wadded the bedcovers in his fists.

"Ah yes, my love, cry out to whom you will, you are all mine now," the king crooned. He waited for Glorfindel to relax beneath him, spending the time peppering his lover's shoulders and back with love bites. He felt the Noldo spread his legs a little, and he withdrew a small bit, testing the waters before giving his lover a proper bedding. As much as he ached to ride him hard, he would not injure Glorfindel. He could take no pleasure in hurting another. When Glorfindel responded most delightfully by pushing back against him, he began to move, thrusting in and out shallowly.

"Yes," Glorfindel whispered huskily.

"I thought you would like that," Thranduil murmured, drawing the point of the warrior's ear into his mouth.

"More," Glorfindel breathed. .

"Aye, more indeed," Thranduil answered and he increased the pace.

Glorfindel rocked into the bed with the force of Thranduil's thrusts, and the voracity with which they made love had a surprising effect on him. "Wait," he breathed, "please, wait..."

Thranduil bore down and began thrusting harder and faster, taking his lover's pleas to mean he was nearing completion.

Glorfindel tensed and cried out, "Wait!"

Thranduil froze, his aching arousal buried deep in his lover. When Glorfindel whispered, "Please," he quickly withdrew, fearing he had hurt his lover. But before he could speak or reach for his beloved, the warrior rolled to his back and grasped his arms, pulling him back down.

"I want to kiss you; I want to look in your eyes," Glorfindel said breathlessly as he wrapped his legs around his beloved.

"Good Gods, Glorfindel," Thranduil answered softly, "You frightened me to death! I thought I hurt you."

"No, my lover," he murmured against Thranduil's mouth. "Finish what you started, my king."

Thranduil smiled wolfishly. "As you wish, my warrior."

Entering his lover again, he closed his eyes, moving within Glorfindel's heat as his golden warrior covered his face and neck with kisses. "I love you, Thranduil," his beloved whispered into his ear, and he took the warrior's face in his hands. "I love you, Glorfindel," he answered.

"More, my love," Glorfindel said huskily into his king's ear, and the Sinda responded, resuming his quick and powerful motion. "Yes," Glorfindel breathed, "Gods yes..."

Thranduil took his lover in his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, dragging Glorfindel closer to the edge of the fall. His lover cried out, arching powerfully against him as his body convulsed, and Thranduil bore down, pounding the Noldo's strong body as he found his own completion.

Collapsing upon Glorfindel's chest, he felt his lover's hands gliding through the sweat on his skin, callused warrior's fingers raising gooseflesh across his back. "Are you well, my love?" he murmured against his lover's golden hair.

Glorfindel smiled, feeling warmth spread through his sated body. "Yes," he whispered. "But do not ask me to sit a horse on the morrow."

Thranduil chuckled as he caressed his lover's face. "I am sure you will exact a just and like punishment on me, my warrior."

Glorfindel nuzzled the king's ear as he felt the Sinda's length slip from his body. "You may depend upon that, my love," he murmured.

"Come, my beauty. The warm springs of my baths will soothe your aches." Thranduil slowly rose off his lover and took Glorfindel by the hand, pulling him from the bed.

* * * *

"Must you leave?" Arwen asked softly.

Elrohir caressed his sister's face. "To stay here means to allow those beasts to claim more land. If we do not respond, they will soon be prowling the forests of Imladris."

Elladan wrapped his arms around his sister and held her from behind. "I promise you, Arwen, we will return."

Gildor watched the tearful parting of the siblings as he stood beside his lord.

"Do not let them do anything rash, Gildor. I cannot bear another loss," Elrond said quietly.

Gildor looked at his lord and bowed his head, covering his heart with his hand. "You have my word, my lord. I will return them to you whole and strong."

Elrond looked across the courtyard at the young minstrel who waited beside Gildor's horse. "Why are you standing here with me when clearly there is another to whom you should be saying farewell?"

Gildor looked at his beloved, who was trying to put on a brave face. He sighed and nodded, taking leave of his lord and descending the stair to join Celebrus. He smiled and took his lover's face in his hands. "You are so brave, my love."

Celebrus tried to shake his head. "Nay, not brave, Gildor, just accustomed to this. Countless times have I watched those I love ride off to war, though this time frightens me more than any other." He reached up and placed his hands on Gildor's chest. "If I lose you, I will fade," he said softly. "'Tis strange, but I do not fear death any longer; I only fear being alone, I only fear being without you."

Gildor enfolded his lover in his arms. "'Tis not war I ride to, my love, only a culling. We must drive these beasts from our borders. I have been through worse than this."

"I fear your luck may run out." He reached up and caressed his lover's face. "Be careful," he whispered.

Gildor smiled. "I will. I love you, Celebrus."

Celebrus smiled sadly and pressed his lips to his lover's. He drew back and murmured against his mouth, "And I love you, Gildor."

He watched his beloved mount his horse, then stepped back as the patrol left the courtyard at a gallop.

To be continued...

Chapter 37:

Summary: Erestor and Legolas talk, Gildor sees something he doesn't like, Celebrus writes a letter.

Erestor paced Legolas' chamber as he waited for his lover to return from training. When he spoke the words the day before that would change his future and that of his prince, his thoughts had not been on the indiscretions that he had committed with Elladan; the fear of losing his lover to death had drowned out his conscience. Before he could bind himself to his beloved, before he went to the king and asked for his blessing, he had to unburden his heart to his handsome young Sinda. He could not enter into a bond of marriage with secrets between them.

He turned as he heard Legolas enter, his heart catching in his throat when he saw the prince's dirt-smudged face and bent stature. "Legolas!" He quickly approached his beloved.

"I am fine, my love," Legolas answered quietly. "I suppose I was not as ready for combat as I thought. 'Tis better I learn this taking a beating at the hands of my father's captain, rather than find out at the tip of an orc's scimitar." He sat down gingerly. "My reflexes were slower than I hoped they would be."

Erestor quickly moved to kneel in front of him. "Could he not have been easier on you?" he murmured as he removed Legolas' boots.

"Being easy on me does not help me, Erestor. Orcs and spiders show no mercy." Legolas noted his lover's solemn expression. "What is it, my love?" he asked softly, reaching out to touch Erestor's face. "What is the cause of such concern? Surely, it cannot be my stiff muscles and few bruises."

Erestor cast his eyes to the floor. "I have to speak with you about something," he said quietly. "I have an admission..."

Legolas swallowed and closed his eyes. He had his own admission to make. "Speak," he said softly.

Erestor placed his hands on his beloved's knees. "I have been . . . unfaithful."

Legolas looked at his lover in disbelief. "How so, Erestor?" he asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

"I have lain with another," Erestor answered.

This was the last thing he expected to hear Erestor say. "With whom?" he asked so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

"Does it matter?" Erestor asked in return.

"No, I suppose it does not," Legolas answered. "Was it just once?"

Erestor closed his eyes and swallowed. "No, not just once. Please forgive me, my love. I know there is no excuse, no reason I can possibly give..."

"Before you beg for my forgiveness, you should hear what it is that I have to say," Legolas interrupted as he bowed his head.

Erestor fell silent, his hands still resting on his lover's thighs, his eyes looking at the top of the Sinda's head.

"I too have been unfaithful. I laid with another after I returned home, more than once."

Erestor rocked back on his heels and looked at his lover. This was not what he expected. He did not need to ask whom; it was apparent and it explained many things, like why the elf was in Imladris, for one. In the months that Celebrus had lived there, Erestor had learned the truth about the position the Silvan held in Thranduil's court. Secrets were something not easily kept in the Hidden Valley, though it appeared the opposite was true in Mirkwood. "Well, it appears neither of us was as strong as we thought," he said softly.

"I have no excuse to offer, other than to say that I have cared for him nearly my entire life. My actions were selfish; they have hurt you and they have hurt him. I have never done anything to be ashamed of before," Legolas said quietly.

Erestor rose and sat beside his lover on the bed. "Oh, my dear prince," he murmured as he put his arm around Legolas' shoulders. "If only I could say that."

Legolas rested his head upon Erestor's shoulder. "Do I dare ask for forgiveness?"

"You dare," Erestor answered, "if I dare as well."

"I am sorry, Erestor," Legolas murmured into the counselor's raven hair.

"Oh, my love," Erestor whispered, "so am I. But I am glad we both told the truth."

He lay back on the bed, drawing Legolas down with him.

* * * *

Gildor wrinkled his nose in disgust as the smell of burning orc carcasses wafted upon the late afternoon air. He watched from the corner of his eye as Elladan paced the field, his bloodied sword still unsheathed and slowly dripping upon the grass as he moved. The peredhel was like a caged wolf, stalking, glowering, and no one dared interrupt his pacing. Even Elrohir, who knew and often shared his brother's moods, watched from afar, his weary gaze searching the paths that wound down the mountains.

They had left none alive, and to any orcs that may be hiding in the shadows of the mountains, it was made clear that to venture near Imladris' borders meant a bloody end.

"We should pursue them," Elladan finally growled.

Gildor shook his head. "Nay, I will not lead these warriors into such a trap. To fight them up there is to fight them on their own ground. We will be at a disadvantage."

"Since when do Elves flee from Orcs?" Elladan barked. "Since when do we yield to Sauron's spawn?"

Gildor wheeled on Elladan, stepping into the angry peredhel's path and stopping him cold. "Since when do you question my authority?" he growled. "I am in command, and as long as I am, you will not question me. Should you wish to lead these soldiers, you will have to wrest command from me by force!"

Elladan froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The old Gildor, the one formed by ages of hardship and war, momentarily replaced the thoughtful and quiet captain he had long known. He had heard stories of this Elda, of the one who had braved the Wars of Beleriand, who had fought for Eregion, and who had done battle on the Morannon. Gildor had seen so much death; he had killed so many.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

Gildor placed his hand upon Elladan's shoulder as he sighed. "I know you seek revenge upon these foul beasts, and I do not blame you, Elladan. But what good will your revenge be if you lose to it those you are charged to protect? What good will it be to your mother and father if they must grieve your passing?" He watched Elladan nod slowly. "You will have your revenge, Elladan, in good time." He motioned toward where Elrohir was sitting. "Now, I think you should apologize to your brother for worrying him like this. You know that no matter how far you roam, no matter how rashly you act, Elrohir will always follow you - even unto death." Elladan looked into his eyes. "That is something to consider, my friend."

"Thank you, my lord," Elladan murmured, then he turned and walked toward Elrohir.

Gildor began giving instructions for securing the camp and setting up a perimeter, a knowing smile gently curving his lips as he watched the twins.

"So, have you regained your senses?" Elrohir asked softly as Elladan sat down in the grass beside him.

"Forgive me, Elrohir," Elladan said quietly.

"I spend so much time forgiving you, I am often at a loss as to why I am doing so," Elrohir teased.

Elladan snorted. "That..." he waved his hand over to where he had been arguing with Gildor, "was just stupid."

"Yes, brother, it most certainly was, and not a fitting example of model soldier behavior."

Elladan flopped to his back in the grass. "I am so angry," he said softly.

Elrohir lay down beside him. "Aye, I am as well."

"Will we ever stop being angry?"

"I do not know, Elladan. I hope so; I do not want to live a bitter life."

"Nor do I." He felt Elrohir's hand close upon his own and he turned his head to look at his twin. "Do you still see it? What happened, I mean."

Elrohir closed his eyes. "Aye, I do. Every time I close my eyes, every time I see one of those foul creatures, I hear her screaming. Strangely enough, I do not remember being wounded. I remember seeing the fear in her eyes; I remember falling into your arms and seeing the pained look on your face, then I remember seeing you fight so fiercely. Everything faded and I thought I was dying; I thought we were all dying then."

Elladan squeezed Elrohir's hand. "So did I, brother, so did I."

"Arwen," Elrohir whispered. "I hope she finds a way to put this behind her. She is still so sad."

Elladan drew Elrohir's hand to his lips. "She will, brother. I think she is stronger than either of us." He looked into Elrohir's eyes. "Never leave me, Elrohir."

Elrohir smiled. "Never," he answered.

* * * *

Celebrus sat at his desk, penning a letter to his king and his prince. In it, he told them of his new life: of being a musician, of meeting Gildor and falling in love. He smiled. His king would be happy, for he understood now why Thranduil sent him away. He still missed them; he missed the comfort of Thranduil's arms, he missed the joy in Legolas' laughter, but his home was in Imladris now, with Gildor. He asked his king's permission to return to Mirkwood and bring Gildor with him; he wanted his lover to see his home, and he wanted his family to meet the one he had given his heart to.

Folding the parchment and sealing it with wax, he leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting homeward. For the first time, there was no sorrow when he thought of Mirkwood; there was only joy and excitement at the thought of returning.

To be continued...

Chapter 38:

Summary: Legolas and Erestor talk; Gildor returns.

Legolas lay in Erestor's arms, staring blankly at the wall. His lover stroked his hair softly, the counselor's elegant, refined hands holding him as they always did, as if he were a rare jewel to be admired. Both the identity of the one Erestor had lain with, and the question of why Legolas committed his own infidelity gnawed at the prince's brain. Finally, knowing where unanswered questions could lead, Legolas turned in his lover's arms and whispered, "I need to know, Erestor."

Erestor looked into his lover's pale blue eyes, then he closed his own. "I do not want to hurt anyone else with my own weakness," he answered.

"It is someone I know," Legolas responded.

"Please, Legolas; do not make me do this."

"Which is more important, Erestor, our future or this other elf?"

Erestor opened his eyes and looked at his beloved. "You question my love for you?"

"I need to know."

Erestor sighed. "Elladan."

Legolas rolled to his back, trying to sort out his own feelings. He had no right to blame Erestor, for he had committed the same indiscretion. Yet, knowing that it was Elladan, who knew how much he loved Erestor, who knew him so well and had called him friend...

"Before you blame him, let me explain how this came to be."

Legolas nodded.

"We were drunk the first time. I know that is no excuse. I missed you so much, I was aching for you . . . I really believe he only sought to give me comfort in friendship. Neither of us intended to take it further."

"At least you had that excuse," Legolas murmured.

Erestor continued. "But the subsequent times were under very different circumstances. I had meant to tell you this earlier, but you were wounded and seeing you that way frightened me. All I wanted to concentrate on was loving you when you awoke."

Legolas turned to his side, looking into Erestor's clouded eyes. "What? What is it that you did not tell me?"

"As their party crossed over the mountains, on the way home last autumn, they were attacked."

Legolas sat up in wide-eyed shock. "What? What happened?"

"Orcs set upon them on Redhorn Pass. They were outnumbered..."

"Celebrus!" Legolas cried. "What happened? Is he?"

Erestor sat up and took Legolas' shoulders in his hands. "Celebrus is fine, Legolas. He only suffered a few bruises, along with the fright of his life."

Legolas uttered a brief prayer of thanks to the Valar. "Tell me."

"The Lady Celebrían was gravely wounded, both in body and spirit. Elrohir was also wounded, but they both survived. Celebrían's soul, however, bore the greater injury, and she has since sailed to the Undying Lands where it is hoped by all that she will find peace. Elladan suffered much from the injury done to his family, most specifically to his mother and Elrohir. While Elrohir has recovered, he was near death for many days, and this gravely affected Elladan. He sought comfort from me upon their return, and I could not refuse him, Legolas. You should have seen the pain in his eyes..."

"I have," Legolas murmured. "I have seen it in my own and in my father's countless times." He placed his fingers upon Erestor's lips. "You need say no more, my love. I know too well the pain of losing a mother, whether to Mandos or to Aman. You did the right thing; he needed you."

Erestor tucked Legolas' hair behind his ears. "How can you be so forgiving? How can you be so selfless?"

"Selfless?" Legolas laughed wryly. "You know not whom you speak to, Counselor. I am far from selfless."

"Why do you say such things about yourself?" Erestor asked with a furrowed brow.

"My own infidelity was far from selfless; in fact, it was the opposite."

Erestor caressed Legolas' face. "Tell me why you say this."

Legolas looked into Erestor's eyes. "When I returned from Imladris, Celebrus greeted me much the way he always has when I have been away on patrol. He bathed me, he sang to me, but he did not touch me the way he used to; he knew I belonged to you. When we returned to my chamber, I watched him gather my things, I felt the distance growing between us and I reached out and called him to me. I asked him, were we not still friends, were we not still brothers? He came to me like I knew he would; yet still he held back. He held back because he knew what would come of being too close; he knew I would not resist the call. Weeks passed and we continued this way, he seeming to dance just outside my grasp, me berating myself for wanting him still. I stayed close, always watching, waiting for him to succumb as well, and he finally did. I wore him down, Erestor, when he tried to resist because he knew that all three of us would suffer. I took from him, knowing I could not give back in equal measure. I took what he freely gave me, and I gave him nothing in return." A tear fell from his eye. "It was my father who finally ended it by sending him away. He knew things would always be the same between us, and that the only way Celebrus would find what he deserved was if he and I could no longer be together."

Erestor looked at the ceiling as a vague notion began to nag at him. "What is it about him that you need so, Legolas?"

Legolas looked at the bed. "I need the way he makes me feel."

"And how is that, my love?"

"Strong, powerful, beautiful..."

Erestor nodded. "And how do I make you feel?" He looked at Legolas' sad eyes. "I need you to tell me the truth, Legolas."

"Beautiful, safe, protected..."

"Weak."

Legolas shook his head. "No! Not weak..."

"I coddle you, you said so when you came in. You are right, my love. In my effort to love you, I have become over-protective. By doing that, I have sought to change you, though I did not mean to. You are a warrior prince, not some youngling that I must protect. In fact, you are a far better warrior than I ever was, one of the best I have ever known."

"Erestor, please, do not blame yourself..."

Erestor smiled as he caressed his prince's face. "There is nothing wrong in looking inside one's self, Legolas. 'Tis what keeps us honest." He pressed a soft, brief kiss upon Legolas' lips. "I am an old soul, my love," he murmured against his lover's mouth. "But that does not mean I cannot still learn."

"Perhaps we can teach each other," Legolas whispered, gently caressing Erestor's lips with his own.

"Perhaps we can," Erestor answered, slowly lying back against the pillows and drawing Legolas with him. "Make love to me," he whispered huskily.

Legolas shifted to lie in between his lover's legs. "Aye, my love, I shall."

* * * *

Celebrus stood in the middle of Gildor's modest cottage, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed his work with no small measure of satisfaction. A regiment had departed the confines of the Last Homely House the day before, which meant that Gildor's regiment should be returning by nightfall. He smiled as he breathed in the scent of lavender and heather, admiring the warm glow cast upon the walls of the cottage by lanterns and the robust fire that burned within the hearth. A trail of rose petals led from the front door to the bedchamber, where Celebrus had dressed the large, soft bed with the finest of silks and laid warm, woven blankets across its foot. He had replaced the old, dusty window coverings with fine, shimmering silk that gently reflected the warm glow of firelight in both the living chamber and the bedchamber. A low fire burned beneath the copper boiler in Gildor's private bath, and a phial with cedar bath oil sat beside the large, marble tub.

Celebrus poured himself a glass of deep, ruby wine, took a sip, and then looked at himself in the full-length mirror near the bed. The robe he had made was perfect for just such a homecoming, made of deep blue velvet that clung seductively to the curves of his lower back, hips, and buttocks, and lay invitingly open on his chest. His hair was freshly washed and braided loosely, hanging in gentle waves down his back. His fingernails and toenails were cleanly trimmed and manicured, his lips moist with balm made from beeswax. He wanted everything to be perfect for his Noldorin lover.

The thought of Gildor's touch, the warmth of his mouth, the weight of his body, caused Celebrus to ache inside. He wanted to feel Gildor's hands on his skin, his lover's mouth on his heated flesh. Closing his eyes, he murmured to the empty room, "By Elbereth, I love you so, Gildor..."

To be in love, it was a most unfamiliar sensation. He had loved Thranduil and Legolas nearly his entire life in one capacity or another, but to be 'in love' was something wholly different. The thought of his lover brought a smile to his lips. The sound of Gildor's voice set his heart to racing. The feel of Gildor's body molded to his own felt so right, as if the two of them had been born for each other.

As Anor's light faded and Ithil's silver beams flooded the Hidden Valley, Celebrus positioned himself upon the bed, each limb draped as to achieve the maximum amount of visual satisfaction. As he leaned his head upon his folded arm, he fixed his gaze upon the door and waited.

* * * *

Gildor slid wearily from his horse; long nights spent watching the hills, cold, cloudy Spring days spent sleeping upon the damp ground had surely taken their toll. He looked forward to taking his lover in his arms and sleeping in a warm, soft, dry bed. Rubbing his gelding on the neck, he murmured his thanks, and then patted the large horse on the rump as it walked toward the stable on its own.

He was tempted to go straight to Celebrus' chambers, but he smelled like his horse and damp earth, and he did not wish to go to his lover's bed in such a foul condition. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he walked toward his cottage. As he rounded the corner, he spied the glow of firelight through his covered windows and he smiled. "You always think of me, my love," he whispered to the cold night air. Quickening his pace, he headed home and to the arms of his beloved.

To be continued...

Chapter 39:

Summary: Gildor has a surprising, yet pleasing homecoming; Thranduil has difficultly letting go.

Gildor quietly opened the door to his home and stepped inside. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he had not wandered into the wrong house in some sort of stupor. But as he looked around, his eyes lighting on familiar furnishings, relics of war, and old maps that he had in his possession since the fall of Beleriand, and he knew this was indeed his house. Dreary window coverings were replaced with fresh silk that shimmered in the firelight. The rugs had been taken outside and beaten; every surface of his home was so clean he could eat off them all, even the floor. The room smelled faintly like fire and heather, with a hint of lavender hanging in the air.

Normally, he would come back to a cold, dark house, silent and brooding, hidden amongst the trees. But someone, and he had a very good idea who, had breathed new life into this old house, transforming it into a sanctuary where he could find peace and rest. Looking down, he saw a trail of rose petals that led from where he stood to his bedchamber. Following them, he reached the double doors that were cracked open, and he pushed them apart and stepped inside.

He dropped his bags, but caught them before they hit the floor. His room had been redone in a similar fashion to the main quarters, and the bed had been completely remade. The best thing of all was that which graced the old bed.

Celebrus lay on his stomach, draped diagonally across the mattress, his pale skin luminescent against the dark bedding and his lips delightfully pursed as he slept. One long, bare, pale thigh showed from beneath the midnight blue velvet of the Silvan's robe. Setting down his belongings, Gildor trod silently to the edge of the bed; holding his hair back behind his shoulders and leaning over, he breathed in his lover's scent. He closed his eyes and a smile curved his lips - his lover smelled of heather and lilac.

Quietly, he crept into the bathing chamber, closing the door before stripping his clothes and filling the tub with warm water. He bathed thoroughly, yet as quickly as he could, then he emerged from the bathing chamber and sat next to the fire, rubbing his hair dry with a thick cloth. Gildor watched his lover sleep peacefully, as only the pure of heart can, and when his hair was sufficiently dry, he strode naked across his bedchamber to claim his prize.

Celebrus woke as the bed dipped beneath him and he looked back over his shoulder with a sleepy smile. "You are home," he whispered.

"Aye, my love," Gildor answered, "and what a home it has become."

"I wanted to be awake when you came in," Celebrus murmured with a slight frown. "I wanted to see your reaction..."

"This was perfect, my beauty," Gildor whispered huskily against the curve of Celebrus' ear, "and nothing could have been more perfect than seeing you sleeping here on my bed. You are so beautiful when you sleep."

Celebrus smiled and purred as he arched his back, slowly pressing into Gildor's groin. "I've missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you, my love," Gildor answered sultrily as he nuzzled Celebrus' ear. He gently moved against his lover, his burgeoning arousal fitting snugly against the Silvan's taut backside. He raised himself off of Celebrus and murmured, "Turn to face me, lover." Celebrus complied, rolling to his back and reaching up for Gildor with his arms as he parted his legs. Propping himself up on one elbow, Gildor ran his free hand over Celebrus' chest, sliding his fingers inside the wide neckline of the robe. He gazed at his beloved, watching Celebrus warm to his touch.

A soft sigh, lips parting, eyelids fluttering shut. The arch of his lover's back, the tilt of his head, the way Celebrus' silver hair felt against his arm. All these things and more held Gildor in thrall. While it was his hands that guided, that seduced, that controlled, Gildor knew who was the master between them. This gentle Silvan was the master of his heart.

He leaned down, his lips hovering over Celebrus' mouth, his hand sliding down his lover's belly, fingers splayed wide, and he whispered, "I love you, Celebrus."

Celebrus arched into Gildor's touch, his arousal straining against his stomach, and he answered, "I love you, Gildor. I always will."

Gildor felt Celebrus' hands in his hair as his lover drew him into a deep kiss.

* * * *

Glorfindel awoke on his back in the middle of the night. His right arm was tingling with sleep and he felt the warm silken skin of his kingly lover pressed against his side. Turning his head, he looked at the back of Thranduil's head; the king's flaxen hair lay on his chest, the Sinda's tautly muscled body pressed back against his side. One of Thranduil's hands was tucked under Glorfindel’s arm and the other lay near the crook of Glorfindel’s elbow. Craning his neck, Glorfindel looked at his lover's hands. They were strong, warrior's hands: elegant, capable of wringing rapture from his body, and bestowing the most gentle of caresses to his cheek.

With his free hand, Glorfindel reached out and caressed Thranduil's side. His king moaned quietly and snuggled back against him, the hand that lay atop Glorfindel’s elbow slid down the length of the Noldo’s arm, fingers entwining and curling around his hand. Glorfindel smiled, slowly shifting to lie on his side and ignoring the tingling protest in his arm, he molded his body to his lover's.

It was quiet; Glorfindel heard nothing but the sound of their breathing. Slowly, he slid his hand over his lover's flat stomach, rubbing in slow, small circles. Thranduil responded immediately, a quiet moan escaping him as he stretched against Glorfindel and the grip on the Elda's hand tightened.

"Mine," Glorfindel whispered into Thranduil's ear. "You are mine, Thranduil."

"I am," Thranduil answered in a soft whisper as he returned from reverie to the feel of Glorfindel's possessive grip.

Thranduil craned his neck as Glorfindel's lips and tongue began doing sinful things to his ear. A deep moan escaped him as Glorfindel's thigh pushed against the back of his own, causing his leg to bend and his lover's awakening arousal to slide between his legs. Gently, but firmly, Glorfindel took him in hand and began slowly stroking his length, and it was not long before Thranduil was lost to the Elda's touch.

Glorfindel felt the fingers of Thranduil's right hand press into his shoulder, while the king gripped his left hand tightly. His lover undulated against him, the warm friction building between them. It was not so long ago that Glorfindel would have felt a hesitation in his lover's body in these same circumstances. While Thranduil always wanted him, his king felt a small bit of discomfort taking the more submissive role during bed play. Yet this night, Glorfindel sensed no hesitation in his lover; in fact, Thranduil was pliable and yielding to the utmost.

Hanging over the headboard, Glorfindel found Thranduil's robe, and he released his lover just long enough to grasp the sash. Sliding his arm out from underneath the Sinda, Glorfindel shifted his weight, rolling Thranduil to his stomach. Glorfindel pulled his lover's arms over his head, encountering some resistance, yet he was still able to bind Thranduil's wrists together, then tie them off to the headboard.

Thranduil tensed against the bindings. He was unsure why this was so difficult for him. He trusted Glorfindel, not only with his own life, but also with the lives of the two elves who meant more to him than any others did. Given that measure of trust, why did he still resist giving control to Glorfindel? He silently chided himself, yet still he tugged against his bindings.

Glorfindel knelt over him. He could feel the Noldo's warm breath against his ear as his lover bent down to speak.

"Do you believe I would hurt you, or humiliate you?" Glorfindel asked softly.

"No," Thranduil answered, still tugging against his bonds.

"Then why do you resist?" Glorfindel asked. "Is there no pleasure in this for you? Do you not want this?"

"No . . . Yes . . . I do not know," Thranduil answered.

"Have you been bound before?"

"Once, but not as a matter of bed play."

Glorfindel nodded. "Your first lover, were they male or female?"

"Male," Thranduil answered quietly, struggling to relax.

"Was he kind?"

"He was inexperienced, having only recently been initiated."

"Did he hurt you?"

Thranduil closed his eyes. "Yes, but not badly."

"You find it difficult to trust others, this is why. To be so vulnerable and have your trust broken..."

"I trust you."

"I know you do, yet still you fight this. I have no desire to humiliate you, my love. I love you, so much that I can hardly find the words to express it. I only wanted to try something new..." Glorfindel reached up to untie his lover's wrists.

"Wait. Leave them. Just . . . be patient with me."

Glorfindel lay against his lover, his hands caressing Thranduil's arms as he nuzzled the king's ear. "Always, my love. I promise you, you will take great pleasure in this."

Thranduil moaned deeply as Glorfindel drew the point of his ear into his mouth, suckling the tip. His lover moved against him, a slow, sensual rhythm building between them. Glorfindel nudged his legs apart and Thranduil felt his lover's mouth work its way down his back, causing his moans to intensify as he rolled his hips, seeking contact with the soft bedding to ease the ache in his loins. A nip to one of his buttocks, followed by a long, slow lick caused him to groan and spread his legs. Soon, he was breached by a warm, soft, wet tongue, and he pulled his knees underneath him, spreading himself wider.

As his desire rose, he began to pull harder against his bonds, not out of resistance, but out of passion. His body was as tight as a bowstring and every muscle was tensed in anticipation. Glorfindel's tongue left his entrance and he shuddered in response. Oiled fingers replaced the warm, wet tongue and he arched back against them, seeking that contact that set his blood on fire. The first spark caused him to cry out and arch against his lover's hand, and he renewed his struggle against his bonds. Repeatedly, Glorfindel found his mark, sending wave after wave of unbearable pleasure coursing through Thranduil's body.

As Glorfindel shifted position, Thranduil bemoaned the loss of his lover's touch. Soon, he felt the Noldo's hands on his hips and he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he waited to be taken. The first nudge of his lover's arousal upon his entrance caused an involuntary shudder to wrack his body. Then, as the Elda pushed forward, his breath was taken from him in a sharp gasp. Filled to the brink, with only a cursory preparation, he found himself in the most vulnerable of positions: unable to move, bound, his head held to the pillow by one of Glorfindel's strong hands, his body breached, impaled on the Noldo's turgid length. He struggled to lift his head, pulling against his bonds, trying to somehow, some way take control of what was happening.

"Be still, lover," Glorfindel crooned. "Do not fight this, let go, and let it take you."

Thranduil felt Glorfindel bend over; the Elda molded his body against him and whispered into his ear, "I love you, Thranduil. I only want to give you what you have given me."

Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly relaxing his body and giving himself over to Glorfindel. Slowly, his lover began to move within him and soon he was moving with Glorfindel, allowing his beloved to direct the pace and intensity of their coupling. He still twisted his wrists, tugging against his bonds, but he otherwise yielded to his lover, fighting to trust and let go of his need for control. There was no denying the pleasure he took in being filled by his beloved; the sense of closeness, of completeness was something he loved. It was pride that held him back from enjoying the experience to the utmost.

He felt Glorfindel's hand wrap around his aching length, and his lover began pumping it in time with their motion, and an aching cry escaped him as he found his release, spilling himself over Glorfindel's hand. Glorfindel increased the pace, riding him hard until he spent himself. Thranduil turned his face into the pillow, feeling a strange mixture of love and sorrow. He loved Glorfindel, so much that he would willingly give his life for him, yet this small thing he seemed unable to give.

Glorfindel lazily reached up and untied his lover's wrists, then curled against Thranduil. Slowly, Thranduil rolled over and took him in his arms, and Glorfindel tucked his head against the juncture of his lover's neck and shoulder. He softly caressed his beloved's chest and whispered, "We shall not do it again, not unless you ask for it."

Thranduil squeezed Glorfindel tightly. "Please, tell me you do not doubt my love for you," he said softly.

"Never," Glorfindel answered. "Nor do I doubt your trust in me."

"I do not understand why I..."

Glorfindel reached up and placed his fingertips against Thranduil's lips. "Someday you will, and when you do, we will be that much closer, as impossible as that sounds now." He smiled. "I love you, Thranduil."

Thranduil caressed Glorfindel's face with a slightly trembling hand. "I love you, Glorfindel. Without you, I am nothing."

Glorfindel kissed him deeply, then curled against him and sought reverie.

To be continued...

Chapter 40:

Summary: Erestor asks a nerve-wracking question; Thranduil and Glorfindel show off.

Erestor paced the hallway outside Thranduil's private study. The king was at court, presiding over a pleading by a representative of the Lake Men, in which the council would decide whether to permit livestock to graze on the periphery of his kingdom. Erestor realized that the timing of this meeting was less than perfect; meetings with men rarely left Thranduil in an upbeat mood.

He heard the quiet murmurings of the council members and the soft brush of Thranduil's heavy, formal robes against the stone floor as the king rounded the corner. Erestor watched as Thranduil held up a ringed hand, admonishing his counselors to be silent, then proceeded toward his private study.

"I could have used your talent for negotiation this afternoon," Thranduil grumbled as he passed Erestor, then opened the door to his study and invited the counselor inside. "'Tis a delicate balance we strike with men; I have no wish to alienate a potential ally, yet they seem to have difficulty respecting boundaries."

Erestor clasped his hands behind his back and followed Thranduil into his study, watching as the king closed the door behind them. "Yes, I often find that men can be rather like children, not understanding the impact of their decisions on the world at large. Though, there are exceptions to the rule."

Thranduil sat heavily in his chair and leaned his head back against the tall back. "Aye, that they are, my friend; I have yet to meet an exception since the days of Elendil of Gondor."

Erestor nodded. "Aye, they are few; fewer still as the days wear on. The Rangers of the North are a noble band, even if they are a bit rough around the edges. Please know that should you require my assistance, I would be more than happy to serve you in whatever way I can." He sat in a chair across from the king. "Your majesty, might I have a moment of your time?"

Thranduil rested his hands upon the arms of his chair. "Speak, good counselor."

"I need not tell you of my deep and profound affection for your son."

The corners of Thranduil's mouth twitched upward slightly. "Nay, Erestor, you need not tell me; I am well aware of it."

Erestor swallowed and resisted the urge to wad his robes in his fists out of nervousness. "In all my long years on this earth, never have I met one who has so profoundly affected me..."

Thranduil chuckled. "Aye, 'affected' is a goodly way to describe love." He smiled. "Go on, Erestor, do not lose heart now."

Erestor felt his cheeks warm. "I . . . I would ask for your permission to bind myself to Legolas. There is no other that I could ever love more."

Thranduil sat forward in his chair and cocked his head. "I must admit, this is passing strange, to have you, who is my elder by several thousand years, humble yourself so in front of me." Thranduil folded his hands and laid them on his desk. "Has Legolas expressed like feelings toward you?"

Erestor nodded, sitting bolt upright on the edge of his chair, his hands firmly planted on his knees to hide the tremor in them.

"Have you made full disclosure of your hearts and conscience, each to the other?"

"Yes, my lord," Erestor answered.

Thranduil's mouth curved into a wide smile. "Then you have my blessing, Erestor. I will expect Legolas to come and ask for the same on his own behalf."

Erestor stood and smiled. "Thank you, your majesty. Know that I will always love and cherish your son."

Thranduil stood and extended his hand. "Aye, that you will, or you will find yourself on the sharp end of my sword."

"Not a place I would willingly be, my lord," Erestor answered with a broad grin.

He released Thranduil's hand and bowed his head, covering his heart, then he departed the king's study. As he stepped into the corridor, he nearly crashed into Glorfindel.

"And where would my good friend be going in such a rush?" Glorfindel asked, a grin blooming on his face as he spied the excitement in Erestor's eyes.

"To find the master of my heart," Erestor answered with a smile.

"Do not tarry then, my friend, for time is too precious to be without him." He chuckled as Erestor walked quickly away, breaking into a jog as he rounded the corner. Entering the king's study, he saw a broad smile on his lover's face. "What is this then? My lover smiling after he has spoken with Erestor? Surely, something is amiss."

Thranduil rounded the desk and took Glorfindel in his arms. "It appears that your best friend and my son are to be bound, each to the other."

Glorfindel's eyes widened in surprise. "Erestor? Married? I never thought I would live to see the day."

"I have always hoped to see this day, to know that my son has found the one he is meant to be with."

Glorfindel carefully ran his fingers into Thranduil's hair, trying not to muss the king's elaborate braids. "Aye, to have such is indeed a gift," he murmured, drawing Thranduil's lips to his own.

"Then we have both been gifted," Thranduil answered, nuzzling Glorfindel's mouth before taking it in a deep kiss.

* * * *

Legolas held Erestor's hand as they walked beside the creek that ran close to the caves. The sky was darkening, and the tall trees whistled and swayed in the wind. "A storm is coming," he said softly, drawing Erestor's hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it.

"Aye, a fierce one, by the looks of the sky and the intensity of the wind," Erestor answered.

"It will be a rough night on the borders," Legolas said quietly. "I feel the air growing colder."

"Do you wish you were out there, with your soldiers?" Erestor asked.

Legolas turned his head and looked at his lover. "I do not wish to be away from you, yet there is part of me that feels like I should be with them."

"I could go with you," Erestor answered. "Then you could be where you want and where you need to be."

Legolas smiled. "Would you not rather spend this cruel night in a warm, dry, soft bed?"

"Of course I would," Erestor answered with a grin. "But, what I want more is for you to be at ease."

Legolas pulled Erestor into his arms. "And you thought your days of soldiering were long past."

"I am to be married to a soldier," Erestor answered with a smile. "I know your ways, and I know your heart. I know what it is that I am entering into."

Legolas nuzzled Erestor's lips. "Mmm... my wise, dark, beautiful love," he murmured.

Erestor flicked his tongue against the prince's lips. "We yet have time . . . time to ravish one another before we spend the night on the cold, wet ground."

Legolas growled softly, pulling Erestor closer to him. "Then let us not waste it, my love." He pressed a hungry kiss to Erestor's lips before leading him back toward the caves.

* * * *

Glorfindel and Thranduil circled one another, the deep sand of the training pit grinding beneath their bare feet. Sitting around the periphery, the young recruits from Mirkwood and the older, more seasoned soldiers from Imladris were about to watch a legendary warrior and a notorious king engage in hand to hand combat for the first time. Hushed whispers passed from elf to elf, wagers as to who would best whom. Glorfindel was the favorite, yet Thranduil was not to be counted out so easily. Some wondered if the Noldo would yield out of deference to his lover on his home field, yet the Mirkwood recruits knew that Thranduil would never stand for that.

Alabaster skin glistened as muscle glided and flexed beneath it. Golden hair set against ivory skin, sapphire eyes glinting mischievously, two mouths, both curved into feral smiles: it was a study in perfection. Glorfindel's stance was tall, the Noldo was regal, intimidating, powerful. Thranduil crouched, muscles taut as he moved like a predatory cat. Each had a unique style, so different from one another. Glorfindel was taller and heavier than Thranduil, but the Sinda was quick on his feet and possessed uncanny reflexes.

Thranduil moved first, and Glorfindel twisted and stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding his Sinda lover. The Elda knew Thranduil was quick, he had seen it more than once, but this surprised even him. Glorfindel reached out to grasp an arm, but Thranduil twisted out of his grasp, spinning and bringing a fist down between Glorfindel's shoulder blades, causing a growl of surprise to escape Glorfindel. The Noldo dropped and swung his leg out, striking Thranduil at the ankle and nearly knocking him off balance, but the king recovered and leapt backward. The bout continued this way for long moments, strike and parry, advance and retreat. The crowd watched with hushed anticipation, wondering who would win in the end. It was not only exciting, but also an excellent example to learn from: two distinctly different styles, each being utilized to the utmost.

Thranduil leapt up and flipped backward, but Glorfindel did not halt in his advance. When the king landed, he was struck squarely in the chest with a bare foot, knocking him off balance and to his back. Glorfindel pounced, but a hair too late, as Thranduil rolled from beneath him. Before he could recover, the king was on his back, arms encircling his shoulders. Thranduil was lifting him from the ground, and he hooked his ankles inside the king's, in effect, pulling Thranduil's feet out from beneath him as the king stood. Thranduil landed heavily on his back, bringing Glorfindel down on top of him, and he held tight to the Noldo, despite nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Glorfindel growled and arched against Thranduil, his head narrowly missing the king's face and striking the sand instead. He heard the almost imperceptible groan of mingled pleasure and pain as his backside drove into the Sinda's groin. He grappled to get a hold on Thranduil as he ground his buttocks into the king's lap.

"That . . . is . . . unsporting . . . of . . . you..." Thranduil groaned as he tried to hold onto Glorfindel.

"Yes . . . but all . . . is fair . . . in combat..." Glorfindel grunted as he writhed against his lover.

"I . . . doubt . . . it has . . . the same . . . effect . . . on . . . an orc," Thranduil countered.

Glorfindel's lips curved into a feral grin. "Let us hope not," he growled. He planted his feet between the king's legs, and with no small amount of effort, sat up, hauling Thranduil with him. "Are your arms . . . not growing tired?"

Thranduil latched onto the tip of Glorfindel's ear with his mouth. "Most certainly," he murmured.

"Oh . . . oh, Gods . . . that is most unfair," Glorfindel grumbled.

"So is that," Thranduil replied as Glorfindel began rocking in the most distracting manner upon his lap. "Do not tell me that you do not feel my reaction."

Glorfindel felt Thranduil's grip loosen just a bit and he arched his back again. "I think we should call this a draw," he whispered hoarsely, "before our audience gets more of a show than they bargained for."

"It is a draw!" Thranduil proclaimed amidst disappointed murmurings from those who wagered on the bout.

"Shall we wait until they have left to stand?" Glorfindel murmured, trying to hide the state of arousal he was experiencing.

Thranduil felt his turgid length press into Glorfindel's backside. "Aye, that would be most prudent." He gave a signal to his captain to dismiss the troops.

They sat together, pretending to talk until the last elf left the training room, and then Glorfindel twisted in Thranduil's loose grip and pressed his lover into the sand, consuming his mouth with voracious intensity. Thranduil bent his knees, allowing Glorfindel to settle between his legs, and he grasped his backside. "Take me, now," he growled softly.

"Not here in the sand," Glorfindel murmured, "in your bed, where I may take proper time with you, my wanton king."

Thranduil arched beneath him. "Yes, that is what I want," he whispered.

Glorfindel smiled. "I love you."

Thranduil threaded his fingers into Glorfindel's mussed hair. "By the Gods, I love you," Thranduil murmured against his lover's lips, before yielding to another deep kiss.

To be continued...

Chapter 41:

Summary: Thranduil has an epiphany; the lovers share a night of passion.

Glorfindel strained to hold Thranduil's wrists in one of his hands. His lover teetered on the verge of escape, wavering between submission and the need for control. His free hand caressed Thranduil's face, his thumb running over the Sinda's lips as his eyes took in his lover's taut body. Each muscle was tight; there was nothing in Thranduil's stance to signify submission. The king's feet were planted apart, his back straight, his head canted at an angle as his dark eyes focused on the soft, rhythmic pulsing of a vein in Glorfindel's neck.

Glorfindel knew the difficulty Thranduil had with being mastered; it was not something that came to the proud Sinda easily - Thranduil had long mastered others. He was king, the ruler of a dangerous land, and he brooked no dissention amongst his people or challenge from outlying realms. His strength and resolve were essential to his ability to protect his people and his lands - his reputation as a fierce and determined ruler was vital.

In public, Glorfindel always deferred to the king, despite his own reputation as an honored warrior and close confidant to one of the most powerful elves in Middle-earth. The Noldo's reputation had been sealed with his death, with that fateful battle with a Balrog and the resultant sacrifice he had made. Few doubted his resolve; few questioned his bravery or strength. Thranduil, on the other hand, had earned his reputation through long hard years of rule, in battles that no one saw nor recorded in the books of lore. He was the son of an impetuous king, the inheritor of a patch of wood that few would have fought so hard to defend.

His lover, his beloved, was a proud, complicated elf; indeed, Thranduil was proud before all other things. That pride was the last barrier between their hearts; it was the only thing standing between them and the ultimate act of intimacy - the joining of their souls.

"I will not make you yield," Glorfindel said softly. "I know it is what you wish, that I overpower the resistance in your body and take what you cannot freely give."

"I thought you liked it this way," Thranduil purred, his voice a strange mixture of sensuality and menace. "You like my pride, you like my refusal to submit, or so you have said." He bestowed a long, slow lick to the Elda's neck.

"I admire your strength, and yes, your pride. I do not know what it is inside me that seeks to dominate you or why I feel this need to have you utterly."

"I do," Thranduil murmured. "We always seek that which is withheld from us."

"It is more than that," Glorfindel answered softly. "Have I not given you everything? Have I not submitted to you completely?"

Thranduil drew back and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. He saw a flicker of sorrow inside their azure depths, and it nearly broke his heart. He said nothing for long moments; he merely gazed into his lover's eyes, seeking for his own truth inside them.

Glorfindel felt his lover's body relax, all tension or resistance faded from Thranduil's limbs. Thranduil tucked his head in the crook of Glorfindel's neck and leaned into him, and Glorfindel released his lover's wrists.

"I understand now," Thranduil whispered, and then he raised his head and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "My heart has been divided in two: one part devotion, one part pride." He slowly sunk to his knees and placed his hands on Glorfindel's hips. "Pride and devotion can never live together," he said quietly. "I must purge one so that the other may thrive." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Glorfindel's groin, then turned his head and whispered, "I will no longer be proud, Glorfindel; I love you, and that love is more valuable than pride." He pressed his cheek against his lover's hip. "I am yours, to command as you will."

Glorfindel felt a tear well in his eye as he caressed Thranduil's flaxen mane. "I would command you to love me forever, Thranduil," Glorfindel whispered.

"I do, I will," Thranduil answered.

"Undress me," he murmured.

Thranduil unlaced his lover's breeches and slid them off the warrior's narrow hips. He bent down and placed a soft kiss upon each of his lover's bare feet, then pressed his cheek atop one of them. Glorfindel looked down at his once proud lover, kneeling before him like a servant. It was at once the most erotic and heartbreaking thing he had ever seen. "Rise," he said softly, and his lover obeyed. He caressed Thranduil's face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had fallen - they were not tears of pain or sorrow, they were tears of relief. Glorfindel felt it; he felt the change in his beloved's body and in his spirit. Long years of keeping these feelings locked inside, of tightly holding to control, of succoring anger for all that he lost in his heart were slowly being washed away with each tear that fell.

Glorfindel removed Thranduil's leggings, his lips following his hands and leaving soft kisses upon bared flesh. Their chests, arms, backs, and feet were peppered with sand; they were both in dire need of a bath before they made love. He stood and looked into Thranduil's shimmering, dark eyes, and a sloe, sensual smile curved his lips. "Bathe me, my love," he murmured.

"Yes," Thranduil answered softly, then he allowed Glorfindel to lead him by the hand to the bath.

* * * *

"Ah, Gods, yes!" Erestor breathed as his fingers choked the curved iron bars at the head of Legolas' bed and his body rocked with the force of his lover's thrust. With lust-glazed eyes he took in his beloved's long, leanly muscled back, bowing and arching, hips arcing forward as he was impaled over and over. Legolas' head was pressed into his shoulder as his lover bore down and began to ride him hard.

Legolas' deep moans echoed in his ears, the feel of his beloved's length inside him, delving deeper, opening him up with each powerful thrust set his blood on fire. The prince clutched at his shoulders, pulling down as he thrust upward, impaling him upon his turgid length. Their sweat-slicked bodies glided against one another as Erestor raised his already trembling legs higher, allowing Legolas to sink even deeper. It would not last much longer, it could not. They were both so close to the fall.

"Come for me, my love," Legolas whispered huskily. "I want to feel it on my skin, I want to feel your body squeeze me and hold me inside..."

Erestor was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he felt his body begin to tighten. "Yes..." he whispered, then he cried out and arched against the bed as his seed splashed between their bodies. Legolas' mouth was against his ear; he could feel his lover's hot breath and hear his beautiful moans. A heartrending cry escaped his prince and he felt Legolas' essence flood him inside. He grasped his lover's back, wrapping his arms around his beloved and holding him tight.

"Oh Gods," Legolas breathed as he collapsed against Erestor's chest.

"You are trembling," Erestor murmured as he stroked his lover's hair.

"So are you," Legolas murmured huskily against his neck.

Erestor chuckled. "'Tis a good thing we are walking out tonight; I doubt I could sit a horse."

Legolas laughed softly. "Forgive me, my love; I fear I was lost in the moment."

"Mmm..." Erestor murmured against the side of Legolas' head. "All is forgiven, if you promise to do it again."

Legolas snuggled against his lover. "That would make three times. I am not sure I can; you have exhausted me, my love."

"Now who is having difficulty keep up with whom?" Erestor teased.

"I love you, Erestor," Legolas said softly as he smiled.

"I love you, Legolas," Erestor answered. "Sleep, my love, for just a little while before we leave."

"Yes," Legolas whispered and he drifted into reverie.

* * * *

Thranduil and Glorfindel emerged from the bath, and Glorfindel guided his lover to the bed. "Lay down, on your back."

Thranduil did as his lover bid him to do, his eyes never leaving Glorfindel's. Glorfindel mounted the bed, laying on top of him and softly caressing his face with the backs of his fingers. He was afraid, there was no doubt about that. He had relinquished the last vestiges of control, control that had wrapped him like a warm, comforting blanket, control that had always been there to bolster his resolve and hide his pain away. But, if this was the price that had to be paid, if the only way to become one with his beloved was to open himself wide to whatever may come, then he would do it. It would be worth it.

"We are too old for formality," Glorfindel whispered. "My parents are in Aman, yours have passed on to Mandos' halls and beyond. What I want more than anything in this life, or any other, is to be one with you. I want to know your thoughts and heart, and I want you to know mine. I want us to be bound together for the rest of our lives, Thranduil."

Thranduil closed his eyes. "I want that too, more than anything."

"We can ask Manwë & Elbereth to witness our union; I need no more than that."

Thranduil looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "In the presence of Manwë Súlimo and Varda Elentári give myself to you, Glorfindel O Imladris and Gondolin, body and spirit, for all time. I am yours; no other will come before you. You are my master, my friend, my lover, my heart."

Glorfindel smiled and placed a soft kiss upon Thranduil's lips. "And in the presence of Manwë Súlimo and Varda Elentári, I give myself to you, Thranduil Oropherion, body and spirit, for all time. I am yours; no other will come before you. You are my master, my friend, my lover and my heart."

"I bind myself to you, Glorfindel."

"I bind myself to you, Thranduil."

Thranduil smiled. "We are married."

Glorfindel smiled in return and nuzzled his mate's mouth. "That we are, my love." He pressed a deep kiss to Thranduil's lips.

To be continued...

Chapter 42:

Summary: Thranduil and Glorfindel bind themselves to one another; Legolas and Erestor venture into the wood.

Thranduil closed his eyes and arched his back, pressing his body into Glorfindel's possessive caress. A deep sigh escaped him; slowly all resistance melted away and he could feel that familiar heat and tingle deep inside him. It was more than just passion this time, he knew that. They had professed their love before the Valar, their voices carried upon the air to Manwë and Elbereth's ears. They had promised themselves to one another, sworn their love and fealty, and with those words and the act they were now engaged in, their hearts and souls would be bound together forever.

He thought about his departed wife, and somehow, deep inside his heart and his mind, he knew he received her blessing on this union. He missed her, more than he could ever describe to anyone, and for a long, long time he had pushed her memory and his love for her deep inside himself. Now, with her blessing he was able to remember how she was before she died - her deep, soft laugh, her large blue eyes and the fall of her silver hair. He remembered how she danced, how graceful she was, how she loved both him and Legolas so much. He remembered her bravery and her wit, her sense of honor and loyalty - he remembered all the things that had made him love her the first time he saw her. With these memories he let go of her, freeing her to love who she would and freeing himself to love Glorfindel totally.

Glorfindel felt the surge of emotion in his beloved; he felt the overwhelming sense of love and bliss that Thranduil was experiencing. He remained in control, plying his lover's heart and body with his hands, directing their joining so that Thranduil could be free to let go of all that had kept them from becoming one. His hands hungrily consumed his beloved's body, his mouth following their path as he rediscovered places that wrung cries of passion and profound love from his Sinda King. Unexpectedly, his yearning for control over his beautiful lover seemed to vanish, and he realized that he no longer needed Thranduil to yield physically, for he had already yielded his heart - and nothing could be more precious than that.

Slowly, he gathered his beloved's legs in his arms and entered Thranduil's body. As he was sheathed inside him he felt it, that sensation his father had told him about long ago. He gasped and heard a heartbreaking cry of emotional release come from his king and through the physical act of their joining, their bond was solidified. He hovered, his lips inches above his mate's, and he whispered, "I love you, Thranduil."

Thranduil opened his eyes, tears like jewels adorning his lashes. "I love you, Glorfindel; I am yours."

Glorfindel moved within his mate's body, feeling the heat build between them, swallowing Thranduil's musical moans and cries in a kiss.

His body convulsed as he spilled himself deep within his lover's body, heat blossoming and spreading, causing his flesh to glow. As he reluctantly withdrew from the nirvana that was the embrace of his lover's body, he allowed Thranduil to roll him to his back. Before he could recover from his rapture, he gasped and groaned aloud as his mate joined with him.

Thranduil's arms were trembling, his turgid length buried in Glorfindel's body, his passion so close to the surface, his emotions so overwhelmingly present. "I love you," he murmured over and over. Though he had said those words countless times, they felt different this time. He moved within Glorfindel's body; he could feel the beating of the warrior's heart in his own breast, feel the reawakening ache of the Elda's loins in his own, and then the circle was complete: he heard Glorfindel's thoughts in his own mind.

"Always, always, always," echoed in his mind, and he answered without words, "Yes, always..."

Glorfindel locked his ankles around his waist and he drove deep, an aching cry escaping him as he spilled inside his beloved. He lay still for long moments, feeling their hearts beat in concert, their breaths coming together, their thoughts mingled with each other's.

"We are one," Glorfindel's voice echoed in his mind.

"We are," he answered with his thoughts. He felt the insistent press of his mate's desire against his stomach, and he reached between them, taking Glorfindel's turgid length in his hand and stroking it.

"Oh Gods, yes," Glorfindel moaned as Thranduil worked his length. There were few things that felt this good. He fisted his mate's hair as he began moving in Thranduil's hand, shallowly thrusting into his strong embrace. He growled as he came and Thranduil dipped his head to lap the pearly essence from his stomach. His mate licked his stomach and chest clean, then snaked his way back up his body to his lips.

"My husband," Thranduil murmured against Glorfindel's mouth. "My master..."

Glorfindel smiled. "And you are mine, my love. Kiss me," he whispered, and his mate complied.

* * * *

Erestor furrowed his brow and drew his cloak tighter as the rain fell heavily around them. Five miles from the entrance to the caves and already they were soaked to the bone, their boots covered in mud from the slippery ground. He looked at his beloved, who seemed impervious to the rain, letting it fall upon his bare head and his face as they carefully climbed the slippery hill.

"It will not be much longer before we reach the first flets," Legolas said, raising his voice so Erestor could hear him over the heavily falling rain.

"Have you ever seen rain fall so hard?" Erestor asked. "This is worse than the last time I was here."

"Perhaps you are bringing it with you," Legolas teased.

"Go on, jest," Erestor grumbled.

"Only twice have I seen it rain thusly. I am worried about flooding. We still have those who live outside of the caves; this rainfall could be disastrous for them."

"I worry about the caves themselves," Erestor retorted. "They are underground, and we know that water seeks the lowest point."

"Father has brilliant builders, Erestor. They have thought of situations such as this. The culverts and watersheds will keep the caves from flooding."

Erestor nodded. "They did the last time I was here, though I would not have believed it."

As they crested the hill, Legolas pointed. "There..." He raised his hand to his soldiers. "We will camp here and continue on at daybreak."

Erestor followed his lover to the camp.

* * * *

"Have you opened the flood gates?" Thranduil asked.

"Aye, my lord. All the gates are open and so far, the water is contained. However, the ground is saturated and some of the hillsides are beginning to give way," one of his advisors answered.

Another chimed in. "And we have a report from the Western border that there are avalanches in the mountains. The snow is falling too heavily and too swiftly. The Anduin is rising as well."

Thranduil furrowed his brow. "Begin making preparations to evacuate the caves, should the flooding continue. But be discreet, we do not need a panic amongst the citizens. Ensure that those living outside the caves move to higher ground. If this continues, there is sure to be flooding and there is a danger of being buried if the ground cannot hold."

His advisors departed and he looked at Glorfindel, who wore a worried expression. "What is it, my love?"

"I wonder if it storms thusly west of the mountains. Imladris is woven with rivers."

"I am sure that Imladris is protected, Glorfindel," Thranduil said softly. "As is Lórien."

"Of course," Glorfindel answered. He looked at his beloved. "What can I do to help?"

Thranduil smiled and reached out, clasping his mate's hand and pulling Glorfindel into his lap. "You are helping, by just being here."

Glorfindel brushed his lips across his beloved's forehead. "Your smith said the rings should be ready in a few days."

Thranduil's hand slid down Glorfindel's back. "I shall enjoy seeing it upon your finger."

Glorfindel picked up Thranduil's right hand, his thumb caressing a bare fore finger. "I think they will be beautiful, a fitting symbol of our love."

"If such a thing can be made," Thranduil answered. "'Tis hard to imagine such feeling made corporeal."

"I am due to lead a patrol in the morning. We are to relieve Legolas' regiment on the southern border."

"Yes," Thranduil answered. "I rue being away from you after we have so lately joined."

"It will be but a few weeks, my love. This is nothing in the grand design of time."

"Agreed." Thranduil smiled. "But I am a selfish king, 'tis hard for me to make sacrifices."

"Liar," Glorfindel teased. "You make sacrifices every day. You have done so your entire life."

"You think me noble, my love?"

"I know you to be so, husband. I would have naught joined with you otherwise."

Thranduil hugged Glorfindel tightly. "By the Gods above, I love you so much I can hardly stand it."

"I know, I feel it and feel the same about you."

Thranduil drew Glorfindel's lips to his own and murmured against them, "We have the rest of the afternoon and the night to enjoy one another. Let us waste no more time."

Glorfindel smiled and nuzzled his husband's lips. "Agreed, my love." He rose from Thranduil's lap and took his mate's hand, leading him from his study to their bedchamber.

To be continued...

Chapter 43:

Summary: Celebrus worries for his loved ones; a storm strikes Mirkwood

Celebrus furrowed his brow as his gaze drifted from the training field to the mountains, then further east. Beyond their peaks, the sky was dark and foreboding. He jumped and uttered a squeak of surprise as strong arms encircled his waist and a chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"What has my fox so concerned?" Elrohir asked softly.

Celebrus smiled and placed his hands upon Elrohir's arms. "You frightened me!"

Elrohir chuckled softly. "Forgive me, my friend. You really should be used to this by now, Gildor is far quieter than I."

Celebrus laughed softly. "Aye, but I have yet to grow accustomed to it. I suppose I am lost in my thoughts. Look yonder, at the Eastern sky."

Elrohir narrowed his eyes; being half-elven, his eyesight was not as keen as that of his pure elven brethren. "'Tis dark, storm clouds I would guess."

"I wonder, is it a storm of Manwë's making, or one of another's?" Celebrus whispered, a hint of dread in his voice. "Ever the Dark One haunts my king's realm, searching, but none know what for."

Elrohir straightened and placed his hands upon Celebrus' shoulders. "Thranduil knows, I believe my father does as well." He cocked his head and looked at Celebrus' furrowed brow. "You still worry for him, do you not?"

"I always will, for both him and my prince. They are my family."

Elrohir placed a kiss upon the back of Celebrus' head. "Family is important, Celebrus. 'Tis what grounds us to who we are and where we have come from." A breeze ruffled the branches overhead, setting the tall, white-barked Aspen to gently sway. "When will you return?" he asked softly.

"As soon as I may, and I wish to take Gildor with me. I want my family to meet the one who has captured my heart."

Elrohir nodded. "Aye. 'Tis important to you to have their blessing?"

"Very important."

"What of Gildor's history? How will your king react to that?"

Celebrus sighed. "It was a long time ago, Elrohir. I hope he will accept that and give us his blessing."

"I am sure he will, once he sees how much the two of you love each other."

Celebrus turned and faced Elrohir. "You have been a very good friend to me, Elrohir."

Elrohir smiled and pressed his forehead against Celebrus'. "And you to me, my fox."

"How fares Elladan?"

"Some days better than others," Elrohir answered softly. "I was just going to seek him out when I found you standing here."

Celebrus lowered his gaze. "I fear for him. I fear that anger and hatred will eat his heart away. It nearly destroyed my king..."

"But for you and Legolas; it is your love, and Legolas', that saved him, Celebrus. I hope that my love, and that of Arwen and our father, will save Elladan as well."

Celebrus looked into Elrohir's eyes. "Aye, that is my hope too. I know how much you love him."

Elrohir smiled and pressed a kiss to Celebrus' forehead. "I know you do," he whispered.

Celebrus smiled and flushed a soft shade of pink. He pushed at Elrohir's chest, gently shoving him back a step. "Go on, you wicked elf. Go find your heart's keeper."

"I will. Yours is coming up the hill now." Elrohir winked. "I will see you at the evening feast." He turned and jogged away after raising a hand in greeting to Gildor.

"What is this? My lover is a becoming shade of rose . . . what did Elrohir say to you?"

Celebrus smiled demurely and leaned into Gildor's welcoming arms. "He likes to tease me about times we shared long ago, 'tis nothing more."

"If there is one thing I learned long ago, the twins delight in causing mischief," Gildor answered with a grin.

Celebrus chuckled. "Aye, that they do." He leaned back and looked into Gildor's eyes. "Are you finished for the day?"

Gildor smiled and leaned in, nuzzling his lover's mouth with his own. "Aye, my love. What did you have in mind?"

Celebrus smiled, his eyelids lowered as he looked at Gildor. "A walk in the woods before the evening meal. The weather is changing, Manwë's breath blows fresh through the valley."

"Aye," Gildor answered. "For reasons yet known to me, it has had a most distracting effect on the horses and on some of my recruits."

"How so?" Celebrus murmured.

"All seem to be preoccupied. Perhaps Springtime is truly upon us."

"It would seem so," Celebrus answered softly. "I find myself somewhat distracted as well."

Gildor smiled mischievously. "Perhaps we should walk to a secluded meadow I know of, where spring flowers are already in bloom and the ground is soft and dry."

Celebrus threaded his fingers into Gildor's flaxen mane. "Sounds beautiful.."

Gildor took Celebrus' hand. "Come, my love. Follow me..."

* * * *

"We have to get these settlers closer to the caves!" Legolas shouted over the driving rain and thunder. "This clearing will soon be overcome by the river; its banks are swollen to the brim!"

Glorfindel nodded, then directed his soldiers to assist the settlers with moving to higher ground. He turned to Erestor. "Thranduil is preparing to evacuate the caves if he must, the water keeps rising with no sign of stopping."

Erestor shook his head and blinked to see through the water running down his face. "They will be vulnerable outside the walls of the caves!"

"They may be drowned inside them," Glorfindel countered.

"This is not the work of the Valar, Glorfindel. I fear this portends some greater evil that is yet to befall us!"

"The staff is filling burlap sacks with sand and gravel from the riverbanks. Soon the gates will be barricaded; the hope is that the filled sacks will hold the water out."

"There are few things that can stop water," Erestor answered. "I hope this plan works."

"We are out of time!" Legolas cried, and Glorfindel and Erestor looked down to see water rising rapidly around their feet.

Erestor snatched up a young elleth and grabbed her mother's hand, running with them toward the higher end of the clearing. Glorfindel heard the anguished cry of a mother and turned to see an elfling scrambling up a soggy hillside in pursuit of his pet rabbit. He turned and ran after the young one, crawling on his hands and knees up the muddy bank. Legolas followed close behind him, calling out to be careful should the hillside give way. Glorfindel caught the child and turned, handing him to Legolas.

"My rabbit!" the young one cried, and Glorfindel lurched forward, landing face down in the mud and catching the rabbit by the scruff of the neck.

Legolas heard the sound of horses and turned to see his father arrive, the small mounted regiment pulling carts behind their horses. As Legolas handed the young one to his mother, he turned and waved to his father, who spied him and a muddy Glorfindel at the top of the hillside.

"Tsk, tsk you little miscreant," Glorfindel chastised the rodent. "Look at the trouble you have. . ." The guttural growls of orcs echoed through the clearing, and Glorfindel slowly turned his gaze to the south, a feral snarl curving his lips. Moments before they heard it, he sensed his presence; his old adversary was fast approaching. The high pitched wail of the Nazgûl split the air causing the warriors to cringe as they drew their weapons. "Get them to the caves!" Glorfindel shouted, and he heard Thranduil giving orders to advance upon the orcs.

Suddenly, the hillside gave way and Glorfindel felt the ground give out beneath him. Acting on instinct, he tossed the shocked rabbit into Legolas' arms, then he disappeared from the prince's view in a rush of mud.

"Glorfindel!" Legolas cried, dropping the rabbit, which ran to its owner's arms, and he dove forward, reaching out for the Elda's hand and catching nothing but air.

"Glorfindel!" Thranduil shouted, as he ran toward where he had seen his mate fall. He grasped Legolas' belt and pulled his son back from the edge of the cliff that formed when the hillside gave way. The ground was still crumbling beneath them and he shouted at Legolas, "Get back or you shall follow him!"

The side of the steep hill upon which they stood began to slide and Legolas found himself on his backside. "Ai!" he barked, as he began flailing to stay on top of the muddy avalanche.

"Legolas!" Erestor called as he rushed forth. By the time he arrived at the bottom of the rapidly collapsing hillside, his lover was buried waist deep in the mud. Grasping both of Legolas' wrists, he struggled to pull him free before the rest of the hillside came down upon them.

Thranduil skidded to the bottom to join Erestor in freeing his son, and then ran around the side of the hill toward the river. "Glorfindel!" he cried as he ran along the embankment, following the current.

Legolas quickly recovered his bow and directed his warriors to form a line to shield the settlers' retreat. Thranduil's guard left the clearing at a gallop, pulling sleds and small wagons full of settlers behind them. Those who were unable to get in the wagons, mostly males, ran behind them, accompanied by the palace guard.

Turning his gaze skyward, Legolas nocked an arrow and aimed at the dark form that circled overhead. He narrowed his eyes and fired, and the meadow was filled with the anguished shriek of the Nazgûl's steed as it plummeted from the sky.

Erestor was knee-deep in mud, struggling to keep his footing as he hacked his way through the advancing orcs. Never had he felt such rage; it was like Gondolin all over again, all that was missing was the Balrog.

Thranduil grasped Glorfindel's wrist and began pulling his lover onto the bank. As Glorfindel climbed onto more solid ground, Thranduil felt it: the ice-cold presence of the Nazgûl. Turning and drawing his broadsword, he came face-to-face with the Witch King.

He struck, his sword making contact with the Witch King's blade with as much force as he could muster. A shock reverberated through the blade before it broke, and he growled in pain and clutched his arm to his chest. The Witch King grasped him by the throat, his foul breath fogging his face, the reek of death filling his nostrils. In a strange moment of lucidity, Thranduil thought to himself, 'This is how I am going to die.'

Legolas cried out when he saw the Witch King holding Thranduil. The demon held his father aloft, Thranduil's feet dangled in the air, several feet above the ground. Legolas' captain also saw his king's plight and directing five of his archers, they turned their bows on the Nazgûl. Erestor beheaded an orc, then grasped the beast's lance and turned, running toward Thranduil.

"Release him."

The Witch King turned his cold gaze from the dying Sinda he held in his grasp toward the voice, and a tremor of fear raced through him. He recognized Glorfindel; indeed, as he stood before the warrior again, he still felt the bite of the Noldo's sword from all those years ago.

Glorfindel drew his sword; its silver-blue steel glinted in the pale light. The rain was decreasing and the sky was slowly beginning to clear. "Release him," Glorfindel repeated, "or I shall pursue you to the dark depths of your master's realm. There is nowhere you will be able to go to escape me."

At that moment, green fletched arrows from the bows of Mirkwood archers rained down on the Witch King, and a black lance found its mark, embedding in the Witch King's back. The Ringwraith dropped Thranduil and Glorfindel leapt forward, knocking the Witch King into the river and following him into the raging current.

Legolas rushed to his father's side, kneeling in the mud beside the half-conscious king. Erestor ran to the water's edge, looking down into the swift moving river and finding no trace of Glorfindel.

Legolas heard his soldiers murmuring as they stood watch over him and Thranduil, and were it not for the sheer terror he felt when he thought his father was going to die, he would have joined them in their hushed reverence. "Did you see that?" one whispered. "I have never seen the like," another replied. "He glowed," a third murmured, "it was as though he were lit from within..."

Erestor joined Legolas and helped him lift Thranduil and carry him toward the king's horse. "The orcs fled when they saw Glorfindel attack the Witch King," Erestor said quietly.

Legolas looked at his lover with sad eyes. "Glorfindel will return, Erestor. He has to."

Erestor nodded. "Aye, he does."

Slowly, they made their way back toward the caves.

To be continued...

Chapter 44:

Summary: Elrohir worries for Elladan, Thranduil loses his composure, and Celebrus has a nightmare.

Elrohir stood upon the veranda outside his father's study looking down at his twin, who slept in a hammock between two large trees in Elrond's garden. Arwen lay beside Elladan, and their fair faces were illuminated by the late afternoon sun, their eyes closed and their expressions relaxed as they took an afternoon nap. His siblings looked peaceful, as they had once looked before the tragedy that had befallen their family. Elrohir did not have the heart to disturb them, so he chose to look upon them from above.

"'Tis good to see them so at peace."

Elrohir turned to find Lindir standing beside him.

"Aye, it is."

"Forgive me for intruding," Lindir said softly. "I merely wanted to tell you how glad I am to see you strong once again."

Elrohir smiled. "Do I look healthy?"

"Most healthy," Lindir replied. "Other than the change in your eyes, one would never know that you had faced the path to Mandos' halls."

"What do you see, in my eyes?" Elrohir asked, his expression growing serious.

Lindir frowned slightly, as if he were searching for exactly the right words, then he stepped closer and reached out, gently touching Elrohir's face. "It is what I do not see," he said quietly. "It is as though you have lost your innocence."

Elrohir grinned and tried to brush off the minstrel's words with a jest. "'Tis been a long time since I was innocent, old friend."

"You know what I speak of, Elrohir," Lindir answered softly. "I can understand why you have changed; you faced death and suffered great injury, not to mention what happened to our lady... no one could go through that and not change."

Elrohir's expression grew serious again. "Is it that obvious?"

Lindir smiled sadly. "Aye, I am afraid it is. Do not hide it, Elrohir. Who we are is a collection of experiences - this has been one that has changed you, but that is not necessarily a bad thing."

"I fear Elladan may think it is, for he takes responsibility upon himself for it."

"How can that be? Did he know the orcs would be there? Even Glorfindel did not sense them until it was too late. He is not responsible..."

"Tell him that," Elrohir interjected. He sighed. "I suppose I am not the only one who has changed."

"No," Lindir answered, "we all do, eventually." He looked up at the change in the afternoon sky. "'Tis growing late and I still have work to do; my duties have doubled in Erestor's absence." He turned to leave, then stopped as Elrohir caught his arm.

"Thank you, Lindir," Elrohir said softly.

"For what?"

"For being a good friend. You have always been a good friend to me."

"Yes, well, that became easier once I knew you would never be in love with me," Lindir replied with a smile.

Elrohir looked thoughtfully at him. "I would have been, if it had been possible."

"I know." He sighed and smiled again. "I never stood a chance against Elladan, ever." He reached out and squeezed Elrohir's hand. "At least you have provided me with inspiration for my music." He winked, then turned and left Elrohir alone with his thoughts.

* * * *

Thranduil had regained consciousness when they reached the caves and was walking, albeit with assistance from Erestor and Legolas. As his head cleared, he began asking for Glorfindel immediately, and it was with much reluctance that Legolas told his father what happened.

Thranduil closed and locked the door to his private chambers after refusing all offers of assistance from his staff or his son. He stood in the center of his bedchamber, dripping water upon the rug and staring blankly at the wall. In his heart, he knew Glorfindel still lived, he felt it; he felt the Elda's heartbeat and his presence. Yet, where his beloved was, he knew not. Now, he stood alone in his bedchamber while his mate was outside in the raging storm that retreated south with the evil one who brought it.

"Curse you," he growled low. "What have I done to incur your never ending punishment? What has he done to deserve this?"

He felt his hands begin to tremble and a heavy, dark wave of rage build inside him. "Have I not sacrificed enough?" he shouted. "Were my father and my wife not enough?" he cried, and then picked up a vase and hurled it against the wall. "Curse you, Mandos, and all of the Valar!"

Deep inside, he heard a voice, dark and laced with malice. It whispered oh so softly for him to give into his anger, to give into that which he had fought most of his adult life. He screamed in rage and grasped his dressing table, toppling it to the floor and sending the contents spilling across the rug. He then proceeded to grasp a chair and batter it against the wall, splintering it into a hundred pieces. The bedside table was next, and the armoire followed, then he shattered a mirror. All the while, he growled and cursed the Valar, vowing to shut them out of his heart and mind should his beloved not return to him. The last of his furniture to be destroyed was the bed he had once shared with his wife, and now shared with Glorfindel. Turning it up on end, he ripped the bedding and battered the frame into pieces.

Legolas pounded on the door to his father's study, throwing his shoulder into it and trying to kick it down. He cried out to his father, who seemed deaf to his pleading. Erestor stood beside him, placing a hand upon Legolas' shoulder and having it shrugged off. He knew Thranduil needed to do this; he needed to purge the anger he felt inside. Erestor also feared this meant his best friend really was gone.

Finally, it grew quiet, and Legolas pressed his cheek to his father's door. "Father?" he called softly. "Please father, let me in." But, Thranduil did not reply.

"Come, my love," Erestor said softly. "He will let us in when he is ready."

"I cannot leave him like this, Erestor," Legolas replied.

"He needs to do this, Legolas. He cannot let go of the anger unless he faces it."

"What if it overtakes him? He has carried it for so long..."

"This is the only way," Erestor answered, leaning his head against his lover's.

* * * *

Glorfindel struggled up the slippery bank, his wet, mud-laden garments weighing him down. He lay upon the soggy ground as the rain continued to fall, and he tried to get a sense of where he was. He was unsure how long he had been tossed and battered by the current, or of how far he had been carried. This part of the woods was one he had not been in before. There was no sign of the Witch King.

Slowly he gained his feet and instinctively raised his sword, which somehow remained in his grasp. Pushing the wet hair from his face, he looked and listened. In the distance, he heard spiders emitting their eerie high-pitched clicking sound. To the West, he heard the grunts and heavy footfalls of orcs moving slowly through the dense forest. He surmised he was well south of the Great Forest Road, and inside the Dark One's territory. He knew the river flowed north to south, before curving west and joining the Anduin. If he followed the river in reverse, it would return him to safety. He pulled the hood of his wet and battered cloak over his head, his best course of action was to be as invisible as possible now, and began the long trek north.

* * * *

The stone beneath his bare feet felt colder than he remembered, the corridors seemed darker, the air somehow more dank. Sorrow hung in the air around him, thick, like a shroud. He reached up and brushed cobwebs out of his path, then noticed what he was wearing: thin, silken, dark crimson cloth. It was a long robe, open at the chest and slit up the sides to reveal his legs. An anklet, not the one his king had given him, but another rested on his ankle; it was heavy and dark, like it was made of iron. He felt a tremor race down his spine, yet he continued to walk, drawn inexplicably toward some inevitable end, an end that was not supposed to be.

He reached a familiar door, one that he had opened countless times, yet it seemed different. Pushing upon it, he entered his king's chamber.

The room was dark, save for the orange glow of firelight coming from the hearth. He saw his king standing in the middle of the room, his back toward him. Thranduil's long hair hung down his back, unadorned, glowing against the black robe he wore. He approached carefully, a sense of dread growing inside him with each step. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched his king's shoulder.

Strong hands locked around his wrists and pulled him close. Instead of warm, silken skin covering taut muscle, he met cold, hard flesh, like stone. Instead of bright, sparkling blue eyes, there was a dark, piercing gaze, no longer blue but black.

He struggled against this rigid, dead, and yet still beautiful shell of what he had once loved, and a hand snaked around the back of his neck, gripping him painfully. "Serve me," the empty, black voice said, and then hard, cold, lifeless lips closed upon his own...

Celebrus sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air and clutching the soft sheets of Gildor's bed to his chest. He was damp with sweat, shaking and close to tears. At the first touch of Gildor's hand, he jumped, and then he felt the warmth, the softness, and the love.

"My love? What is it?"

"Oh, Gildor," Celebrus buried his face in his lover's neck as Gildor enfolded him in his arms.

"Ssshh, my treasure, tell me what is wrong."

"A dream, a terrible, terrible dream..."

"'Tis only a dream, my love."

"I am afraid it is more than that," Celebrus replied in a hoarse whisper. "I saw my king, only he was no longer my king. Instead he had become a dead, monstrous shell of what he once was, dark and terrible..."

"You worry for him, and that worry manifests itself in dreams. What you see in your sleep is not to be taken literally, my love. It is only your mind's way of relieving itself of your fear."

"I pray to the Valar that you are right, Gildor, for I could not bear for him to become what I just saw."

Gildor laid Celebrus back on the bed and gathered him in his arms. "He will be fine, my love. Glorfindel will see that no harm comes to him." He stroked Celebrus' hair and hummed him back to sleep.

To be continued...

Chapter 45:

Summary: Lindir recites poetry and receives generous payment.

Elrohir pushed the door to the library open and found Lindir on a ladder, placing a thick tome upon a high shelf. He crossed the room and placed his hands upon the ladder to steady it and looked up.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

Lindir looked down and smiled. "If you would like to help me with that stack on my desk, I might be able to leave this room before nightfall."

Elrohir smiled and stepped aside as Lindir descended the ladder.

"What brings you into the library, Elrohir? It seems like many years since I have seen you here."

"I do read, you know," Elrohir replied with a grin.

"No doubt," Lindir teased, "stories of warfare were always your favorite."

Elrohir chuckled and followed Lindir to the stack of books. "What else is there to read, except dull tales of politics?"

Lindir raised an eyebrow. "Poetry, perhaps?"

Elrohir lifted a thick tome. "I read poetry."

Lindir laughed aloud. "When was the last time you read a poem?"

"I read one to Arwen just two nights ago," Elrohir replied in mock defiance, his chin lifted proudly.

"No doubt that was at her request." Lindir smirked.

"Well, yes, it was," Elrohir retorted. "But, I do read poetry, sometimes..."

Lindir laughed softly and shook his head, then gently took Elrohir by the chin. "Life is about more than battle, my brave friend. It is also about love, for without love, battle has no purpose."

Elrohir smiled. "Recite a love poem to me, Lindir. I love it when you recite poetry."

"Which poem would you like to hear? If you can name one that is..." Lindir teased.

Elrohir glowered mockingly. "One of your own choosing."

Lindir nodded. "I know one you might like. It was written by a friend of ours." He cleared his throat and began:

"His body was as straight as Oromë's spear;
Eru might have sipped out nectar from his hand.
Even as delicious meat is to the taste,
So was his neck in touching, and surpassed
The white of Elbereth's shoulder. I could tell ye
How smooth his breast was and how white his belly;
And whose immortal fingers did imprint
That heavenly path with many a curious dint
That runs along his back, but my rude pen
Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men,
Much less of powerful gods. Let it suffice
That my slack Muse sings of Legolas' eyes,
Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his
That leaped into the water for a kiss
Of his own shadow and, despising many,
Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.
Had wild Tulkas Legolas seen
Enamored of his beauty had he been.
His presence made the rudest peasant melt
That in the vast uplandish country dwelt.
The barbarous Valarin soldier, moved with naught,
Was moved with him and for his favor sought.
Some swore he was a maid in male's attire,
For in his looks were all that males desire,
A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking eye,
A brow for love to banquet royally;
And such as knew he was a male, would say,
"Legolas, thou art made for amorous play.
Why art thou not in love, and loved of all?
Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall."

Elrohir beamed. "Who wrote that?"

Lindir winked. "Erestor."

Elrohir chuckled and nodded. "I might have known, for only one in love could produce words of such beauty."

"I am given to understand his subject lives up to his verse."

Elrohir winked. "Aye, he most certainly does." Elrohir placed the book he was holding upon the shelf and took up another one. A grin curved his lips.

"What is the cause of so merry an expression?" Lindir asked as the ascended the ladder once again. "Surely, it cannot be library work."

"I had nearly forgotten the effect you have on me, Lindir," Elrohir replied. "You always make me smile."

"I am happy to provide such a service," Lindir answered softly. "Your smile is generous recompense."

"Are you flirting with me, Lindir?" Elrohir queried with a raised eyebrow.

Lindir sighed. "Old habits die a hard death, my friend. But, what is a little harmless flirtation between good friends?"

Elrohir grinned, handed Lindir a book, and watched him ascend the ladder again. "A most pleasant way to spend an afternoon," he answered.

As Lindir descended the ladder, his shoe came off, causing his silk-clad foot to slip off the rung. "Oh!" he barked, as he dropped the book he was holding and his hands slipped.

The book landed squarely on Elrohir's head, but that did not stop the Peredhel from catching Lindir before he fell. "I have you," he said, holding Lindir close.

"Damn that shoe," Lindir grumbled.

"I do not damn it," Elrohir replied softly.

"Are you all right?" Lindir asked as he reached out and touched the crown of Elrohir's head. "That book was quite heavy."

"It was but a book," Elrohir answered quietly. "I have been struck by much worse."

"Much to my dismay," Lindir replied.

"I am lucky to have a friend such as you."

Lindir closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Aye, friends we are."

Elrohir lifted Lindir's chin. "Tell me you do not want this and I will leave. I would never, never hurt you, Lindir."

Lindir looked into Elrohir's silver eyes. "I know you would not, nor would you be false. I know what you want, and I want it too, even if nothing more comes of it."

"Do we risk our friendship?" Elrohir whispered as Lindir leaned in slowly for a kiss.

"Nay, my prince," Lindir murmured. "We solidify it." He pressed his mouth to Elrohir's.

Elrohir moaned softly into the kiss, the familiar soft caress of Lindir's small mouth against his own fuller one ignited heat deep in his belly. It had been many, many years since they had kissed thusly. His hands slid down the Noldo's slender hips, his fingers curling around the back of Lindir's upper thighs. Without further encouragement, Lindir hopped gently into Elrohir's arms, wrapping his legs around the Peredhel's waist.

Lindir threaded his fingers into Elrohir's heavy mane as his old friend took control of the kiss and he opened his mouth wide. They separated briefly, each gasping for air, and he whispered huskily, "To the divan, in the back. No one will find us there."

Elrohir followed his friend's direction, carrying Lindir far into the back of the library, where few ventured, as the shelves only held trade records from the second age. It was dim, the corner palely illuminated from sunlight that came through a window high above their heads. The air was slightly cool and carried the smell of musty, old parchment. There was something comforting to Elrohir about that smell; it conveyed safety and constancy.

He laid Lindir down and began opening the clasps on his friend's robe, baring the minstrel's pale skin to his view. "So lovely," he murmured.

Lindir smiled as he pressed his chest to Elrohir's mouth. "Gods, I had almost forgotten how good your mouth feels on me," he whispered.

"Lindir, I want to taste you, I want to feel you in my mouth," Elrohir replied huskily.

Lindir parted his legs and gently fisted Elrohir's hair. "Yes, Valar yes..."

Elrohir peeled Lindir's robe open and removed the Noldo's loincloth, revealing a smooth, ivory column of flesh standing erect against the minstrel's flat stomach. "You really are perfection," he murmured, before taking Lindir in his mouth.

Lindir gasped and arched as Elrohir engulfed him, grasping the back of the divan with one hand and tightening his grip on Elrohir's sable hair with the other. A mixture of amorous pleas and wicked curses escaped his lips as he was swallowed deep, and his slender hips thrust up into Elrohir's hot, wet mouth. "Gods, yes, oh gods yes..." he groaned as he began thrusting faster, Elrohir's mouth providing relentless suction. A strangled cry escaped his lips as he came, spilling deep in Elrohir's throat. He trembled, tingling in the aftermath of his climax as Elrohir licked him clean, and he gazed upon his good friend, watching as Elrohir licked his lips and leaned in for a kiss. He could taste himself on his friend's tongue, slightly salty and wickedly decadent.

Elrohir released Lindir's mouth, a feral grin curving his lips. "You know what I want," he said in a deep, husky tone.

"Oh yes," Lindir replied, "and I give it freely."

Elrohir gently bit down on Lindir's neck. "I hope you take it as well as you give it," he murmured.

Lindir moaned and whispered, "I may look frail, but I assure you I am not."

"Good."

To be continued...

Chapter 46:

Summary: Erestor worries that Thranduil is slipping away; Elrohir makes good use of Lindir and has regrets.

Erestor closed the door behind him and watched his beloved pace the room like a caged cat. He removed his wet and soiled cloak, dropping it into a basket that sat near the bedchamber door. Legolas was distraught, and no wonder; by the sound of it, his father, whom he had never seen lose control, had most likely destroyed his quarters in a fit of rage. Thranduil had said things that few elves dared say; to curse the Valar was no light matter.

Erestor was feeling a bit of turmoil himself: he had just emerged from one of the fiercest battles he had fought since the Second Age, almost seen his beloved buried alive in a cascade of mud, and watched his best friend tumble into the river with a Nazgûl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then called softly, "Legolas."

"I have to get in there," Legolas said worriedly. "I have never seen him like this. He needs me."

"Legolas."

"What if he does something terrible to himself? What if he believes Glorfindel dead? What if..."

Erestor stepped forward into Legolas' path and grasped his shoulders. "Legolas!"

Legolas was stunned into silence. Erestor had never shouted at him before, not like that. As he paused, he looked into his lover's eyes and saw something he was wholly unaccustomed to seeing: fear. He gathered Erestor into his arms and held tight to him. "Forgive me, I have been so consumed with worry for my father that I did not see what you are going through."

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, Erestor leaned on his beloved. He wrapped his arms around Legolas and softly said, "Thank the Valar that you are all right."

Legolas placed a kiss upon the side of Erestor's head. "I am, my love. However, I am worried about my father. I know you are worried for Glorfindel too."

Erestor nodded, unable to speak as tears threatened to fall. "I saw him fall once; I cannot go through that loss again."

Legolas squeezed Erestor tight. "He will return, my love, I promise."

* * * *

Elladan passed Lindir's quarters on the way to the chambers that he shared with his twin. A familiar sound stopped him in his tracks outside the minstrel's door: it was the sound of Elrohir's voice. Deep, passionate moans, punctuated by feral growls and plaintive cries sounded from behind the door. Elladan stepped forward and put his ear to the smooth wood and closed his eyes. He knew that sound; it was the sound of his twin laying claim to their father's chief minstrel and Erestor's most valuable assistant. Lindir's musical voice cried out and Elladan felt his breath catch in his throat as he placed his hand upon the door. "Oh yes, brother," he murmured. "I know how you can be..." He drew back from the door and smiled, and then continued toward his chambers.

Elrohir leaned heavily against Lindir, his fingers curled around the minstrel's hands. Nuzzling the Noldo's ear, he purred contentedly and shifted slightly, causing an involuntary shudder to wrack Lindir's lithe frame. "Are you well, my friend?" he murmured. Lindir nodded breathlessly, panting beneath Elrohir's weight. Elrohir looked at Lindir's long, outstretched arms, the long elegant fingers entwined with his own against the bed. His knees ached slightly despite the softness of the rug, and he imagined Lindir's did as well. "Come, my songbird, let us move onto the bed." He slowly withdrew, his length sliding lazily out of Lindir's still tight body. He heard the small whimper that escaped his lover and good friend, and released one of Lindir's hands to gently rub the minstrel's silky, round backside. "I will draw a bath for you. I have a special mixture of herbs and salts that will make you feel much better." Lindir nodded again and Elrohir frowned. He brushed the damp hair away from his friend's face and looked at him thoughtfully. "Tell me true, Lindir. Have I harmed you?"

Lindir drew a deep breath, then swallowed. Slowly opening his eyes, he answered, "I have not shared another's bed for some time. I am a little sore, that is all."

Slightly alarmed, Elrohir looked at himself but found no evidence of blood. Breathing a sigh of relief, he leaned forward and gently kissed Lindir on the cheek. "Forgive me, my friend."

Lindir smiled at him, but there was something sad in his smile. Elrohir helped him to the bed and covered him with a blanket. "Stay here," he said quietly. He stepped inside Lindir's bathing chamber and quickly cleansed himself, then dressed and returned to Lindir's side. "I will fetch the bath salts. Just stay here." He pressed a kiss to Lindir's lips, then hurried to his chambers.

Lindir rolled to his back and winced, and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. He sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling. "Why do you need this, Elrohir?" he asked the empty room. "And why do I need to give it to you?"

* * * *

Elrohir entered the chambers he shared with Elladan and found his twin reclining lengthwise across their bed. Elladan lay on his side, bare-chested and barefoot, with his breeches riding dangerously low and a sensual smile curving his full lips. Elrohir stopped, realizing his tunic was still half open and his breeches were not fully laced up. He watched Elladan lick his lips and he swallowed. It was most difficult to resist his twin when he looked so very . . . determined. However, now was not the time for more bed play; now was the time for him to take care of his friend.

"Not now, Elladan," he said as gently as he could. "I have something I must attend to."

Elladan departed the bed with predatory grace and followed his twin into their bathing chamber. "What is this? Healing salts? My, you must have ridden him exceedingly hard."

"Shut up!" Elrohir barked, then he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

Elladan grew serious. "Truly, have you hurt him, brother?"

"I do not know, I do not think so, but there was something in his eyes that worried me."

Elladan placed his hand upon Elrohir's shoulder. "Shall I attend him with you?"

Elrohir shook his head. "No. I must do this myself."

Elladan nodded. "Very well. You know where I am should you need me."

"I am sorry for shouting at you, Elladan."

Elladan smiled. "I know, brother. I am sorry for making such an inappropriate remark. Now go and see to your friend." He kissed Elrohir on the top of the head and returned to their bed, where he opened a book and began reading.

Elrohir looked at his twin for a moment, a sad smile curving his lips. "I love you, Elladan."

Elladan looked up from his book. "I love you, Elrohir. Now go on, I can wait."

Elrohir departed their chamber at a brisk walk.

* * * *

Two days had passed and still no sign or word of Glorfindel. Thranduil had not left his chamber and had refused entry to anyone, including Legolas. Legolas assumed his father's leadership role, aided by Erestor, and things were very slowly returning to normal for the denizens of Mirkwood. There had been no further sign of orcs or of Nazgûl, and for that, Erestor was exceedingly grateful. He was beginning to imagine that his intended would soon be crowned king, and he would have to tender his resignation to Lord Elrond so that he may help Legolas rule this dangerous land. This was not a scenario of his choosing; he did not wish to see his lover forced into the same situation that Thranduil had suffered. Erestor worried for both Legolas and Thranduil; he knew what happened to those who lost their soul mates. Thranduil's first loss could have been the end of him, were it not for his son. Now that Legolas was grown, there was nothing to tie the Sinda to his physical form; there was no further reason for him to remain. Erestor feared that Thranduil was fading.

He followed Legolas to the king's chambers, afraid of what they might find. He watched the smiths remove the lock on the door, then held his breath as Legolas pushed the door open with great difficulty. The scene that greeted their eyes shocked them. The king's chambers were in complete disarray. Not a stick of furniture remained intact. Torn tapestries hung precariously from the stone walls, splintered wood littered the floor along with broken glass. Thranduil sat on what was left of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. He had not changed his clothes or bathed. His hair and skin were covered in dried mud.

Erestor swallowed a lump in his throat; he could only imagine the effect this was having on his beloved, who had always been able to look to his father as a rock of support and safety. He imagined Legolas must be feeling adrift and lost seeing his father in such a state. He placed his hand on Legolas' back, offering gentle support, and then followed his beloved as they picked their way through the debris to speak with the king.

"Leave me be." Thranduil growled low.

"Please, father. Talk to me, let me help you."

"Get out."

"Papa, please..." Legolas had not referred to his father by that name since he had been an elfling. "It is Greenleaf, let me help you."

Neither Legolas nor Erestor saw Thranduil's hand close on the silver goblet that lay by his feet.

"I said, get out!" Thranduil barked, and he wheeled on them, hurling the silver goblet at his son's head.

Legolas and Erestor ducked, and the goblet missed them, striking the wall with a sharp thwack. Enraged, Erestor stepped in front of a shocked Legolas and shouted, "How dare you! You threaten harm to my beloved? You threaten harm to the one who has loved you more and longer than any other? You son of a warg . . . I should gut you where you stand!"

Legolas gripped Erestor's shoulder. "Erestor, no, please..."

"Yes, gut me, Noldo. Go on, I have nothing left to live for. Send me to the abyss that surely awaits me, you would only be doing the work of the Valar."

"By Elbereth, you are the most selfish and stubborn elf I have ever encountered! You have nothing to live for? What about your son? What about the elves of your realm who love you and look to you for protection and guidance? Do you think you are the only one who has ever lost someone they loved?"

"Someone? Someone? I have lost three!" Thranduil growled. "It would be better if I were dead, then perhaps Legolas might be safe, since I bring harm to everyone I love!"

In a fit of frustration and anger, Erestor grasped the goblet and threw it back at Thranduil, nearly missing the king's head. "You selfish, stupid elf! How you raised a son as magnificent as Legolas is beyond me!"

"Please, Erestor."

Erestor turned at the defeated sound of his lover's voice. "Come, my love, perhaps he needs time to think on my words." He gently led Legolas from the room, leaving Thranduil alone with his anger.

To be continued...

Chapter 47:

Summary: Elrohir tries to make amends and finds himself in a strange place; Legolas makes a bold move.

Elrohir sat at Lindir's desk, cataloging stacks of maps and artwork. Lindir worked quietly at Erestor's desk, occasionally looking up at his friend. Elrohir seemed to be avoiding his gaze, and growing tired of the cat and mouse game they seemed to be playing, he spoke: "Why are you here, Elrohir?"

Elrohir looked up at Lindir. "I told you when I came in, I wanted to help you since you have so much work."

Lindir nodded, though he was not convinced. "Are you sure that you are not here because you feel as though you need to be?"

Elrohir frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lindir sighed. "You know what I mean. Just because we lay together does not mean that you owe me anything."

Elrohir swallowed. "I was too rough with you. That was not how I wanted it to be."

Lindir propped his chin on his hand. "Come now, it was exactly what you wanted and you know it. What you are upset about is that it was not exactly what I wanted it to be, and you did not take that into consideration."

Elrohir recoiled. Lindir was nothing if not forthright.

Lindir rose and walked to where Elrohir sat. "I am no delicate flower, Elrohir. 'Twas not the first time I have been so thoroughly used."

"I did not use you!" Elrohir objected.

"You certainly did not make love to me." Lindir grasped Elrohir's chin, preventing him from turning away. "Nor did I ask you to. I knew what you needed, you took nothing that I did not freely offer." He sighed quietly. "We are not lovers, Elrohir, nor will we ever be, that role is reserved for Elladan. We are friends, good enough friends that I hope we will always be honest with one another."

"I wanted you to enjoy it," Elrohir said quietly.

"And I did," Lindir answered.

"But I was too rough."

"Yes, you were, a little. But no harm done, and you took very good care of me afterward."

"I do not know why I do such things," Elrohir said softly.

"So you like rough bed play, many warriors do." Lindir raised an eyebrow. "Glorfindel certainly did."

Elrohir snickered, then looked up at his friend with a broad grin. "I want you to be happy, Lindir."

Lindir smiled. "I am happy, Elrohir. And even if I were not, my happiness is my responsibility, not yours." He leaned down and kissed the top of Elrohir's head. "Now, are you not supposed to be training with Gildor?" He rose and returned to Erestor's desk.

"Aye. But Gildor can wait. You have far too much work to do here for one elf. Let me help you; it is what friends do for one another."

"Very well, but do not blame me when Gildor comes looking for you." He winked at Elrohir and went back to work.

* * * *

Legolas rose from his bed in the middle of the night. Pausing and grasping the small, rectangular box that his father's smith had given him that afternoon, he pulled Erestor's crimson sleeping robe from the hook by the door and drew it around his shoulders. Closing the door silently behind him, he made for his father's chambers. The door groaned on its hinges as he pushed it open, and he drew the robe closer around him as he stepped into the room. It was cold; there had been no fire in his father's hearth for days. Barefoot, he tiptoed around the debris, searching the dark room for his father. When Thranduil's hands closed on his shoulders he jumped and gasped, then stilled.

"Why do you keep coming back here?"

His father's voice sounded strange; it was dark and menacing. "Because you are my father and I love you," he answered softly. He gasped again as he was spun around and came face to face with a side of Thranduil he had never seen before. Never had his father's eyes looked so empty, never had his expression seemed so cold.

"You are my son," Thranduil said in a low voice. "And as such you should serve me."

"I have, have I not?" Legolas asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

"Take this." Thranduil thrust a dagger into Legolas' hands.

"Why?" Legolas asked, growing more afraid by the minute.

"Something has a hold of me, Greenleaf. I cannot keep it at bay much longer."

Legolas began shaking his head in disbelief.

"I do not want to hurt you, or anyone else, but I am afraid that I am losing my mind."

Legolas dropped the dagger and threw his arms around his father's neck. "No! No, you are not, you will not; I will not let that happen." He buried his face in his father's dirty hair. "You are my father, I need you. I will not let anything happen to you. I will take you to Lord Elrond, if I must, or Lady Galadriel, she can help you."

"I cannot feel him any longer, Greenleaf. I fear he is gone. I cannot lose my heart again, I have no more heart that I can part with."

"Oh, Papa. He will come back, I promise you he will," Legolas answered softly as he drew back and looked deep into Thranduil's pained gaze. "Promise me you will stay with me, promise me you will not give up. Do not listen to that dark voice inside you, it lies to you."

"Help me," Thranduil said softly.

Legolas could no longer hold back his tears. "I will, Papa, I will." Then he held his father while they wept together.

* * * *

Legolas held out a robe as Thranduil stepped from the tub, and he wrapped it around his father's shoulders. He gently stroked Thranduil's damp hair and mustered a smile, then led his father from the bath to Celebrus' chambers. "You will sleep here until we can put your chambers back together."

Thranduil sat on the bed and looked up at his son. He held Legolas' hands in his own and he stroked the soft underside of his son's wrists with his thumbs. "Would you . . . stay with me?" he asked in so small a voice Legolas barely heard him.

Legolas knelt at his father's feet and answered, "Yes, Papa, I will stay." He reached inside the pocket of Erestor's robe and pulled out the small, carved box. "Ellegon delivered this to me. It belongs to you."

Thranduil took the box with trembling hands and opened it. He swallowed as tears fell from his eyes. "Our betrothal bands," he said softly.

Legolas took the gold bands out of the box and took Thranduil's right hand. "Wear them both until he returns to take the one that belongs to him." He carefully slid both rings onto his father's finger. He gently helped Thranduil beneath the blankets and then lit a fire in the hearth to warm the room. Collecting extra blankets from the chest at the foot of Celebrus' bed, he spread them out then climbed beneath them and lay beside his father. "Sleep now, Papa. All will be well in the morning, I promise."

"I love you, Greenleaf," Thranduil said wearily.

"I love you, Papa," Legolas answered, and he listened to the sound of his father's breathing as Thranduil fell into an exhausted reverie.

* * * *

Erestor woke in the middle of the night to find his lover gone. Sitting up in the bed, he looked around the room and spied the empty hook where his robe had been and the small box that was missing from the bureau. "Oh gods," he murmured, and quickly rose from the bed, grabbing his formal robe from the armoire and wrapping it around him, then he hurried toward Thranduil's chambers.

Stepping inside, he found no sign of Legolas or of Thranduil. What he did find was a dagger lying in the middle of the floor. With trembling hands, he reached down and picked it up. "No blood," he sighed in relief. He found evidence that someone had bathed in the king's private bath, then he found a side door propped open.

When he came through the doorway, he found another bedchamber, this one undisturbed for the most part. When he looked at the bed, he found his beloved. Legolas was sleeping soundly in Thranduil's arms; the king was fast asleep too, and the tension that had so transformed Thranduil's face seemed to have melted, leaving behind the face they all knew and loved. It was such a peaceful and beautiful picture: a son sleeping soundly in his father's arms. Erestor saw the rings on Thranduil's finger and he nodded in agreement. "Very wise, my love, very wise indeed," he whispered, then he turned and left father and son in their peaceful reverie.

* * * *

Elrohir stepped out of their private bath and found Elladan on the balcony. He trod barefoot across the floor, tossing the thick towel that he dried his hair with upon a chair and joined his twin on the balcony. Wrapping his arms around Elladan's waist and placing his chin on his twin's shoulder, he said, "Do you think Lindir is happy?"

Elladan raised an eyebrow. "I would not know, he is your friend, not mine."

Elrohir furrowed his brow. "He is your friend also, you just do not know him as well as I do."

"If you say so, brother."

Elrohir turned Elladan to face him. "Are you angry with me?"

Elladan looked at his twin thoughtfully. "No, why would you think so?"

"Because of the way you are acting at the moment."

"I am just curious as to why you suddenly have this preoccupation with Lindir. We have known him our entire lives, and you seem to be spending a lot of time with him as of late."

"You just said he was my friend."

"Indeed, he appears to be."

"You are jealous." A smile began to bloom on Elrohir's lips.

"Should I be?"

"Should I have been jealous of Erestor?"

"Erestor had a lover when we lay together, Lindir does not, and it is no secret that our father's minstrel long fancied being your lover."

"He knows where my heart belongs, Elladan."

"Be sure he does not forget it, Elrohir."

Elrohir watched his twin retreat inside their chamber, leaving him alone on the veranda.

To be continued...

Chapter 48:

Summary: Celebrus is haunted by bad dreams, Elladan finds a new way to connect with his twin, Lindir is reminded of how things are.

Gildor stroked Celebrus' hair as he held his lover in his arms. He was worried about his beloved; Celebrus was not sleeping and it was becoming evident. Dark circles were forming under the Silvan's eyes, his skin had lost some of its luster, and the joy was missing from his gaze.

"Stay in bed and rest, my love."

"I cannot rest," Celebrus answered softly. "I cannot close my eyes or I will see it again."

"It is but a nightmare, nothing more," Gildor answered, only half believing his own words.

"I never should have left," Celebrus murmured.

"If you had not, then you and I would never have come to be," Gildor answered softly, bestowing a soft kiss to his lover's ear.

"You cannot stay here with me indefinitely, Gildor," Celebrus answered. "You have duties to attend to, and so do I."

"You need rest, Celebrus."

"I need to work, it will distract me."

Gildor sighed and rose from the bed, straightening his tunic. "You are grown, I cannot force you to stay abed. However, I will ask you to think on this: you and I are no longer only responsible for ourselves, we are now each responsible for the other. Your future and mine are intertwined, Celebrus. What happens to you happens to me; if you fall ill from exhaustion, that will affect me. We each have the responsibility to take care of ourselves for the other."

Celebrus sat up wearily. "I promise, Gildor, I will not fall ill." He sighed. "Perhaps I will see Lord Elrond."

Gildor nodded and smiled. "Aye, my love, that would be wise." He leaned down and kissed Celebrus softly on the lips. "I will seek you midday."

Celebrus managed a smile and caressed Gildor's cheek. "Do not be too rough on those recruits."

Gildor winked. "Do not fall asleep on the ladder in the library."

Celebrus chuckled. "I will try not to."

* * * *

"Ah! Reinforcements have arrived," Elrohir said with a smile as Celebrus entered the library.

"My apologies for being late, Lindir," Celebrus answered, trying to stifle a yawn. "What are you doing here, Elrohir?"

"Helping Lindir." The peredhel's smile faded when he saw Celebrus' condition. "You look terrible."

"I have not been sleeping well," Celebrus replied as Elrohir embraced him. "I am sure it is temporary."

"I hope so." Lindir looked upon his friend with concern. "Elrohir is correct, you look awful." He placed his hand upon Celebrus' shoulder. "Perhaps you should stay abed this day and get some rest."

"If I wanted to be abed, that is where I would be!" Celebrus barked. He closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. "My apologies, I did not mean to take such a harsh tone."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "I have never heard you take such a tone with anyone, Celebrus."

"I know, I am sorry."

"You are exhausted," Elrohir answered. "I know what exhaustion looks like."

"No doubt you do," Celebrus responded. "I will be fine. A few cups of Lindir's tea and I will be wide awake."

"Which is exactly what you should not be," Lindir replied.

"Please, I beg you both, let me work. I need to work," Celebrus answered tiredly as he poured a cup of tea.

Lindir put up his hands in defeat. "Very well, you know your own limits, I imagine."

Elrohir leaned close to Lindir as Celebrus made his way back to where the trade records were. "I will stay. I doubt he will be of much use, and you may need me later."

"Do you think he is ill?"

Elrohir furrowed his brow. "I do not know, but I do believe he will not be on his feet much longer. A body can only endure so much."

Lindir sighed. "I wish I knew what ails him; it has been four days now that he has come to the library like this, and he is worse now after a few days of rest than he was before."

"If he will not tell us . . ."

Lindir nodded and sighed again. "Will you keep an eye on him?"

Elrohir smiled. "Aye, I will be there to catch him when he falls."

Lindir placed his hand upon Elrohir's shoulder. "You are a good friend to him, and to me."

"To be a good friend is a noble goal."

Lindir winked and walked back to Erestor's desk.

* * * *

Elladan stood with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Three days now. This is three days in a row that Elrohir has shirked his duty on this field to dally in the library."

Gildor drew a leather rag along the blade of his sword, removing excess oil. "Perhaps your brother's focus has changed. He has nothing to prove on this field, Elladan; he proved himself long ago." Gildor looked thoughtfully at Elladan. "At least he has nothing to prove to me."

Elladan turned and looked at Gildor. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps you are the one he has something to prove to."

"Are you offering advice on matters of the heart now?"

Gildor smirked. "No, Elladan. I am merely suggesting that the source of your frustration is not what it seems to be. I have felt tension between the two of you since the attack in the mountains."

Elladan sighed. "I love him, Gildor, as sure as I stand here breathing before you, I love him with all my heart and soul; I always have. I have always wanted to keep him safe, protected..."

Gildor sat his weapon down. "And you failed in the mountains."

Elladan dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded.

"Oh, my friend. Things would be so much easier for you if you realized that what Elrohir needs is not your protection, but your trust. He needs to know you have faith in him, that you believe in him, that you know he is stronger than he thinks he is."

Elladan looked up and into Gildor's knowing eyes. "How did you become so wise?"

Gildor smiled. "By living a long time and by learning from life, my friend."

"I do believe in him."

"I know that," Gildor answered. "Now he needs to know it."

Elladan smiled and nodded.

"Now leave me, I have work to do." Gildor winked.

Elladan turned and jogged away from the training field.

* * * *

Elladan entered the library to find Elrohir holding an unconscious Celebrus in his arms. "Sweet Elbereth! What happened?" he breathed as he ran into the room.

"He was on the ladder, and he just . . . fell." Lindir answered, his eyes wide with concern.

"He was half-dead when he came in this morning," Elrohir continued. "We tried to send him home, but he would hear nothing of it."

"He has not slept for days," Lindir finished.

Elladan knelt beside Elrohir and brushed Celebrus' hair back from his face. "Look at him, he looks terrible," he murmured.

"He needs to sleep and stay asleep," Elrohir answered. "His body needs time to heal."

"Come, let us get him back to his quarters."

Elladan helped Elrohir rise with Celebrus and they walked to the minstrel's quarters, with Lindir in tow.

* * * *

Celebrus tossed his head upon the pillow and moaned fretfully. "Bad dreams," Lindir murmured, gently wiping the Silvan's forehead with a cool cloth.

Elladan sat across the bed from Lindir as he caressed Celebrus' cheek. "Let us help him, Lindir," he said softly. Lindir nodded and rose, giving his place to Elrohir, who smiled and gently squeezed the minstrel's shoulder.

Elladan placed on hand on Celebrus' head and reached for Elrohir with the other. "I could use your help, brother," he said softly.

Elrohir looked at Elladan and smiled. Taking his brother's hand, he placed his free hand upon Celebrus' head, next to Elladan's. They closed their eyes and reached out into the space between them and their friend, seeking his thoughts. Elrohir's hand tightened on Elladan's as they found the source of Celebrus' fitfulness. Elladan squeezed Elrohir's hand in reassurance and they delved deeper.

In a flash, Celebrus' whole life was revealed to them: the terrible murder of his parents, the fear he felt when he was brought to the caves, the beginnings of a profound love and connection to Thranduil and Legolas, the first, breathless kiss from his prince, the first extraordinary night in Thranduil's bed, the overwhelming love he felt for both of them, and the reassuring, comforting, solid love he felt for Gildor. Then they saw the nightmare. Dark, cold, menacing . . . in it, that which he loved was being taken from him again.

Elladan reached out to Elrohir with his mind, using the connection that had always existed between them. 'Take it away, brother, give him peace.'

Within moments, Celebrus stilled, and the fear and pain faded from his expression. A deep sigh escaped him, and he slept peacefully.

Elladan opened his eyes and looked at his twin. Elrohir's lips moved slightly as he murmured the last lines of the incantation that banished the nightmare. A smile curved his own lips as he looked upon his soul's mate. "That is it, my love," he whispered. "Give him peace."

Lindir stood aside, observing the way Elladan looked at Elrohir. Never in all of his days had he seen such profound love in another's gaze. He smiled sadly. It was what he wanted, at least in part: Elrohir's happiness was always what he had wanted. Quietly, he slipped out of the room and returned to his work, hoping that one day someone would look at him like that.

To be continued...

Chapter 49:

Summary: Glorfindel returns, Elladan reaches out to his twin.

Glorfindel heard the iron gates clang shut behind him and heaved a sigh of relief. He was soaked to the bone, covered in mud, and exhausted. He had walked for five days to return to his Mirkwood home, narrowly avoiding spiders and orcs alike.

"Home," he murmured as he looked around the bustling courtyard. A smile curved his lips as he walked toward the doors to the royal chambers amid welcoming smiles from his new friends.

"Glorfindel!"

He looked up and saw Erestor running toward him. He laughed as the normally staid counselor leapt into his arms. "It is good to see you too, my friend."

As Glorfindel set him down, Erestor punched the Noldo in the shoulder. "You son of a warg! Do not ever do anything like that again!" he barked.

Glorfindel rubbed his shoulder. "I am glad to see that not everything has changed."

"'Tis a pity that some things do not," Erestor grumbled in response. "You are still bound and determined to test the limits of fate."

Glorfindel looked thoughtfully at Erestor. "He was not going to take Thranduil from me," he said softly.

Erestor nodded. "I understand, but you nearly lost your mate anyway."

Glorfindel's eyes widened in fear. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Barely," Erestor replied. "If it were not for the love of his son, I think he would have been lost."

"I could feel his fear and pain," Glorfindel said quietly. "Now he feels at peace." He placed his hands on Erestor's shoulders. "Where is he?"

"In Celebrus' old chambers. Legolas is with him."

Glorfindel took off at a run toward the courtesan's chamber.

* * * *

Thranduil gasped and sat up. "Glorfindel," he whispered.

Legolas sat up as well and groggily rubbed his face. "What is it?"

Thranduil smiled. "Glorfindel, he has returned." Tossing the covers aside, he climbed over Legolas and left the bed.

Legolas smiled as he disentangled himself from the blankets and followed his father.

Glorfindel stopped outside of Thranduil's door to find the king's staff removing rubble from his bedchamber. "What in Eru's name?" he queried, and then he saw his beloved standing in the corridor outside of Celebrus' chambers. Never had anything been so beautiful to his eyes than the sight of his mate, barefoot, hair unbound, one of Celebrus' robes clinging snugly to his body.

"Glorfindel," Thranduil breathed.

Glorfindel closed the distance between them with long strides, taking his mate in his arms and holding him close. "Thranduil, my love," he replied softly.

Thranduil clung to his beloved, feeling the rainwater soak through his robe. "Gods, I thought I lost you," he murmured.

Glorfindel smiled as he squeezed his mate tighter. "Never, my love. You will never lose me."

Legolas smiled as Glorfindel's eyes met his, and he nodded with approval, making his way past the lovers and toward his own chambers.

"Come," Thranduil said softly. "You are soaked to the bone."

Glorfindel allowed his beloved to lead him by the hand toward their bathing chamber. As they entered the living quarters they shared, Glorfindel looked around in astonishment. "What in Elbereth's name happened in here?"

"I happened," Thranduil answered. "I did not take your fall well."

"It would seem that way," Glorfindel replied. "Is there anything that you did not destroy?"

Thranduil closed the door of the bathing chamber behind them. "This," he answered as he motioned around the room, "and these." He held up his right hand, displaying their betrothal bands on his finger.

Glorfindel smiled. "Our rings," he said softly.

Thranduil took the one belonging to Glorfindel off his finger and slipped it on the Elda's hand. "I think it looks much better where it belongs."

Glorfindel looked at the ring, then turned his gaze toward his mate. "I love you," he said softly, and then he took Thranduil's face in his hands and kissed him soundly.

As Glorfindel released his mouth, Thranduil's lips curved into a smile. "I love you, you beautiful, brave, astounding, infuriating elf." He slowly removed his beloved's wet garments, his lips warming his mate's flesh as it was bared, his hands soothing tired, cold muscles. "You saved my life, Glorfindel, for the second time."

Glorfindel caressed his mate's hair. "When was the first time?"

"When you first told me you loved me," Thranduil answered quietly. He looked into his mate's azure eyes. "I would have willingly died in his grasp, if it meant you would have been safe."

Glorfindel gently shook his head. "You are not meant for death, my love," he said softly. "You are meant for me."

"And I am yours, utterly, completely yours, Glorfindel."

"Then I am blessed," Glorfindel answered.

* * * *

Elrohir stood on the balcony of Celebrus' room, looking out on his father's gardens. He closed his eyes as Elladan's arms encircled his waist, and he leaned back against his twin's strong body. "What we saw..."

"It was not true, Elrohir, not all of it."

"But much of it was."

"And much of it was beautiful," Elladan answered, leaning his head against Elrohir's.

"Legolas and Celebrus..."

"That was a lie. We would have known if Thranduil had done that to them. Thranduil would never hurt either of them, ever. You must know this is true."

Elrohir turned in Elladan's embrace and looked into his twin's eyes. "What if it was a vision of what is to come? What if we have been wrong about what Thranduil knows about the One Ring? What if it has been seeking him, rather than the other way around?"

Elladan shook his head. "I do not believe it to be true, Elrohir. Thranduil had the opportunity to seize it and he did not take it. I think he wanted to know where it was so that he could keep it from being found. Perhaps it tried to work upon him, but it failed. Celebrus' nightmares are not about what is to come, they are about what he fears may come."

"I hope you are right."

Elladan smiled and kissed his twin on the forehead. "I am; I always am."

Elrohir chuckled. "Aye, you are."

Elladan took Elrohir's face in his hands. "Forgive me, brother."

"For what?"

"For ever doubting you. You are stronger than you believe, Elrohir. My need to protect you is selfish; it is more for me than for you."

Elrohir looked thoughtfully at his twin. "Sometimes I am not so sure."

"Well, I am," Elladan answered. "If you want to bring Lindir into our relationship, I will not object. Just be sure that it is the best thing for him."

Elrohir touched his brother's face. "He deserves to be loved, Elladan."

"No doubt he does. But the bond you and I share is one that cannot be shared with any other. Will he be satisfied with just our love and not the bond that is between us? Will just our love be enough?"

"I do not know."

Elladan pressed his forehead into Elrohir's. "It bears consideration."

"Yes, it does. I will think further upon it; I would not do Lindir a disservice."

"You are wise, my love," Elladan murmured, placing soft kisses upon Elrohir's forehead.

Elrohir closed his eyes. "Mmm . . . that feels nice."

Elladan smiled. "Does it?"

"Yes."

"You like a soft touch?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I shall be better about giving it to you."

"Your touch always pleases me, Elladan, no matter how it comes."

"Just as you always please me, Elrohir, always."

"Should we tell Gildor where Celebrus is? He may worry; I think our friend will be asleep for quite a while."

Elladan nodded. "Aye. I shall tell him, if you want to stay here with our fox."

"All right," Elrohir answered softly. "Elladan?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I love you."

"And I love you, Elrohir." Elladan smiled and then kissed his brother soundly on the lips before departing to find Gildor.

To be continued...

Chapter 50:

Summary: Gildor watches over his beloved and asks a question; the twins strengthen their bond; Lindir sees an old friend.

Gildor gently settled beside his lover, propping himself up on one elbow and watching the Silvan sleep. He was grateful to the twins for bringing Celebrus peace, and he was relieved to see his beloved get some much needed rest. He softly moved tendrils of silver hair aside and smiled as he gazed upon the peaceful expression on his lover's face. "This is how I would have you be, always," he whispered to his sleeping love. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Celebrus' forehead. "Master of my heart..."

Celebrus mumbled and rolled toward Gildor, instinctively seeking the comfort of his beloved's arms. Gildor heard his lover whisper his name, and sliding down in the bed, he enfolded Celebrus in his embrace and leaned his head against Celebrus' own. "Sleep, my love, I will be here when you wake, this day and every day thereafter."

* * * *

Elrohir closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping his lips as Elladan's hands slid softly over his bare flesh. "You feel so good," he whispered.

"As do you, my love," Elladan answered as he dipped his mouth to Elrohir's throat. He slowly moved his hand in between Elrohir's legs, cupping his arousal and gently massaging it. A smile curved his lips as Elrohir arched into his touch and his twin's hands clutched at his back. "Gods, how I do love you."

Elrohir raised his legs, wrapping them around Elladan's. "Make love to me, Elladan," he whispered, "just like this: slowly, softly..."

"Your wish is my command, lover," Elladan answered huskily. For the first time since that fateful day on the mountain, Elladan immersed himself in his twin's body, giving wholly of himself. He could feel the reaffirmation of their bond, feel it grow stronger between them, feel the distance that had grown between them fade away. There was not one inch of Elrohir's body that he did not worship that night as he poured all that was in his heart into this intimate expression of his love for Elrohir.

As Ithil rose, casting her silver glow through the windows of their room, Elladan held his twin in his arms and smiled. Elrohir breathed deeply, the soft rhythmic sound bringing peace to Elladan's heart. Elrohir's skin felt warm and soft against him; his brother's body was molded into his own. This was how things were supposed to be between them. He was not sure how he lost sight of it, or why, but he knew he would never lose this feeling again.

* * * *

Lindir set his quill down and looked thoughtfully at the parchment. It was a fitting tribute, he thought; now, all it needed was an occasion to play it. He rose slowly and stretched, then moved to the window. He looked out at Ithil as she made her way across the sky. "You are for lovers," he whispered to the moon. "And I know two who are most likely enjoying you right now." He sighed and closed his eyes.

The sound of hoof beats broke his reverie and he stepped out onto the balcony. Three elves, Silvan kindred by the looks of them, entered the courtyard, and he quirked an eyebrow. "It is passing late for visitors," he murmured. As they dismounted, one of the elves threw back the hood on their cloak. "Sweet Elbereth!" he exclaimed under his breath, then he dashed inside and pulled on his formal robe before heading toward the courtyard at a run.

"My lord." Lindir bowed his head as he began to catch his breath. "I was not expecting you."

"Can I not visit my son-in-law on a whim?" Celeborn asked with a smile.

"Of course you can," Lindir answered, his cheeks flushing pink.

"'Tis good to see you, Lindir," Celeborn said softly. "It has been a long time since you have graced our wood."

"Too long, my lord."

"There is one with me who will be very happy to see you." Celeborn smiled as Lindir's large, blue eyes flicked in the direction of one of his captains, and he winked at the minstrel. "If my quarters are available..."

"Always, my lord. Shall I wake Lord Elrond?"

"No, no, let him rest. I will surprise him and the children at the morning meal." He patted Lindir on the shoulder, then made his way into the Last Homely House.

"I will take care of bedding down the horses," Haldir said with a grin as he looked at his younger brother. Nudging his sibling in the ribs, he said, "Go on. Or will you stand here all night?" He shook his head and smiled as he led the horses toward the stable.

"Lindir, 'tis good to see you again."

Lindir fought to conceal how nervous and happy he was; he did not want to ruin this perfect moment. "Rúmil, 'tis good to see you too. How have you been?"

"Fine, until now," Rúmil replied.

Lindir's brow furrowed. "Why? What is wrong?"

"My mouth is dry, my heart threatens to break out of my chest, my palms are sweating, and you are standing there so calmly. I wanted to be calm too..."

Lindir threw his arms around Rúmil's neck. "Oh gods, I am anything but calm, Rúmil," he breathed. "I just did not want to make you uncomfortable."

Rúmil wrapped his arms around Lindir's waist. "I have missed you, Lindir."

"I missed you too," Lindir answered. "It seemed as though we were just beginning when I left."

Rúmil nodded. "We were, and I have been trapped there ever since."

"I worried I would not see you again; or if I did, that you would have found someone else."

"I do not think there is anyone else for me," Rúmil answered quietly. "I..."

Lindir loosened his grip and leaned back to look in Rúmil's eyes. "What?"

"I want to know you; I want to know if this is what I think it is."

Lindir smiled. "I want to know that too, Rúmil." He took the marchwarden's hand. "Come, I will show you to your rooms; they are but two doors down from mine."

Rúmil smiled. "I hope that closeness does not prove to be more of a temptation than I can stand."

"And I hope it does," Lindir answered with a wink.

They walked up the long stairway toward the Last Homely House, hand in hand as Ithil shined above them.

* * * *

Celebrus awoke in the middle of the night to find Gildor beside him. Reaching out, he caressed the Elda's cheek and smiled. He had noticed a change in Gildor since that first night they lay together; his lover was more at peace now.

His fingers trailed down the Noldo's cheek, over his strong jaw, and along his neck to the juncture of his shoulder. Celebrus' fingers lingered, tracing Gildor's collarbone before drifting lower to his strong chest. A smile curved his lips as he watched Gildor slowly stir from his reverie. The Elda moaned softly and sighed, before gently arching his back and pressing his chest into Celebrus' hand. Celebrus rolled a quickly hardening nipple against his palm as he dipped his head to taste of its mate. He felt Gildor's hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he laved a pert bud with his tongue.

"You are awake, I see," Gildor murmured huskily.

"Aye," Celebrus answered as he paused his ministrations and lifted his head to gaze into Gildor's darkening eyes. "So are you."

Gildor smiled. "How could I not be? It is impossible to ignore your attentions, my love."

Celebrus bestowed a long lick to Gildor's taut nipple, smiling as the act earned a sharp hiss from his lover.

"Are you feeling better?" Gildor asked quietly, slowly beginning to undulate against his lover's lithe body.

"Much," Celebrus murmured. "Mmm... have I ever told you how much I love your body? It is perfectly proportioned, firm, and strong."

Gildor groaned quietly as his lover's hand slid between his legs and the Silvan's long fingers wrapped around his burgeoning arousal.

"Yes, you have," Gildor managed to reply as he arched against the bed. "Many times, but I never tire of hearing it."

Celebrus smiled and gazed up at his lover, who was now completely lost to his touch. The power he felt over his beloved was intoxicating, but it was nothing compared to the sense of completeness he felt when Gildor took him and held him close. To have his beloved inside and around him, to be so intimately joined with him, was something he feared he could never live without.

"And you," Gildor continued in a deep, husky whisper, "you are so beautiful and elegant, and so very intoxicating."

Celebrus purred in appreciation and shifted to lie between his lover's legs. He gazed into Gildor's dark eyes and murmured, "Take me, lover. I love how you feel inside me."

Gildor rolled over Celebrus, covering his lithe lover with his body. "With pleasure, my love."

* * * *

As Anor rose, flooding Celebrus' chambers with her light, Celebrus sat on his lover's lap, his long legs draped over the arms of the chair Gildor sat in. His warrior sipped a cup of tea while Celebrus nuzzled his neck, then the Elda sat the cup on a small table and grasped Celebrus' chin, turning his gaze to his own.

"I love you," Gildor said softly.

"I love you," Celebrus answered with a smile.

"You have come to mean so much to me. I cannot imagine a life without you."

"Nor can I, my love," Celebrus replied, caressing the Noldo's cheek.

"Bond with me."

Celebrus' eyes widened and began to brim with tears. "Truly?"

"Aye, truly. I need no more time to know that you and I are meant to be together."

Celebrus took Gildor's face in his hands. "I will bond with you, my love. To share my life with you is more than I deserve."

"Nay, my love," Gildor answered. "Do not say such a thing. I am the one who is undeserving."

"The sins of the past are just that, Gildor. None of us are perfect, and what we once did is not as important as what we do now. It is how we live our lives, not the mistakes we have made, that matters."

"Wisely spoken, my love," Gildor murmured. "Perhaps this is what fate intended all along."

Celebrus smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. "I believe you are right."

To be continued...

Chapter 51:

Summary: Celebrus tells his friends the news, and plans to return home to Mirkwood; the twins begin to hatch a plan for Haldir.

"That is wonderful!" Elrohir said with a smile as he embraced Celebrus tightly. "When? When will you enter into the bond?"

"I do not know," Celebrus answered, his voice partially muffled by the peredhel's shoulder.

"Elrohir, you will suffocate him if you do not let go," Elladan teased. "Besides, there are others who wish to convey their congratulations."

Elrohir grinned as he released their friend, and Celebrus turned to Elladan. The peredhel smiled gently and cupped his cheek before kissing him on the forehead. "We are most glad that you and Gildor found one another, Celebrus," Elladan said softly. "You both deserve much happiness."

Celebrus blushed and kissed Elladan on the cheek. "Thank you, my lord." He stepped back with a broad smile upon his lips. "We will travel to Mirkwood. I would be married in the presence of my family. Gildor knows how important it is to me for my king and prince to be present at the ceremony."

Elladan nodded. "Aye. Perhaps we can have a small celebration here before you leave."

Elrohir placed his arm around Elladan's waist. "They will need an escort, brother. 'Tis not safe to travel east these days."

"Agreed. We should make preparations. A regiment would draw too much attention. Perhaps only two should accompany them."

Elrohir looked at his twin. "I think we should accompany them."

"But who will manage the forces?" Celebrus asked softly.

"It has not been so long that I have forgotten how to wield a sword."

Celebrus and the twins turned to find Elrond standing in the doorway.

"Forgive me, but I overheard your conversation. First, I wish to congratulate you, Celebrus. Gildor has long avoided love; it took a wise and worthy elf to capture his heart." Elrond smiled as the Silvan blushed. "With Glorfindel and Gildor absent, and my sons journeying abroad, I will lead our forces. Eru willing, we will have nothing but border patrols to concern ourselves with."

Elladan smiled. "Our warriors will be honored to serve directly under you, father."

Elrond winked. "I doubt I will prove as stern a task master as either Glorfindel or Gildor, but I believe I can remember what it is to train for battle." He placed his hand on Celebrus' shoulder. "You have my blessings, Celebrus. I am most glad that my kinsman found so loving a mate."

"Thank you, my lord," Celebrus answered softly as he bowed his head and covered his heart.

"Now, if you can spare my sons, there is someone who would like their company." He smiled at the twins. "Your grandfather arrived late last night."

The twins beamed. "It has been months since we last saw him," Elladan said with a smile.

"This is a most pleasant surprise," Elrohir added.

"I take my leave," Celebrus said quietly. Each of the twins caught him by an arm and kissed him soundly on the side of the head. Celebrus laughed quietly, then bowed again before departing.

* * * *

Lindir sidled up to the buffet table, taking his place in line beside Rúmil. "Good morn, my friend," he said softly.

"Good morn, Lindir," Rúmil answered.

"Did you sleep well?" the minstrel asked.

"Not really; I was distracted."

"By what?" Lindir queried.

Rúmil smiled impishly. "By thoughts of a certain elf."

Lindir grinned. "Glorfindel?"

Rúmil gently elbowed Lindir in the ribs. "You know whom I speak of."

Lindir winked. "While I rue your lack of sleep, I do not rue the source of your unrest." He nudged Rúmil. "Come, sit with me outside. The birds are singing."

"Not nearly as well as you do," Rúmil responded with a grin, then followed a blushing Lindir out onto the veranda.

* * * *

Elladan and Elrohir sat at a large table with their father, grandfather, and sister. A smile curved Elrohir's lips as he watched Lindir and Rúmil find a table by the fountain.

"It seems your worries may be over," Elladan murmured into Elrohir's ear as he leaned over.

"Aye, it seems that way indeed. Lindir has been a good friend, Elladan. It does my heart much good to see him so happy."

"Mine as well, brother, for what makes you happy makes me happy."

Elrohir smiled and turned his head, placing a quick kiss upon his twin's cheek.

Arwen smiled as she observed Lindir. "He and Rúmil are a good match, I think."

"Agreed," Celeborn answered. "Rúmil is quite enamored of your minstrel, Elrond. You may be short one musician if I have my way. His presence in the Golden Wood always makes my lady happy, to say nothing of my marchwarden."

"Speaking of marchwardens, where is your captain?" Elladan asked, a wicked smile just starting to curve his lips.

Celeborn shook his head and laughed quietly. "Will you never stop tormenting my dear captain? Your last encounter left him in a most unpleasant mood for nigh on a month!"

"Come now, grandfather; he but needs to acquire a sense of humor. It would greatly improve his general disposition," Elrohir answered.

Celeborn shook his head and chuckled. "For a moment, I believed that he would refuse my command when I told him he would be escorting me to Imladris."

Elladan winked at his twin. "Well, we shall have to see what we can do to improve his mood."

"Say no more," Celeborn said as he held up his hand. "I have no desire to know what you have in store for him."

* * * *

Thranduil surveyed his surroundings. His chambers were nearly as they were before he wrecked them; only the bed was different. While his craftsmen had replicated all of the furnishings he once had, he asked them to make a new bed, one that would symbolize his new life with Glorfindel; that night they would christen it.

The door opened and he turned to see Glorfindel enter. A broad smile curved his lips when he saw the Elda's reaction. Glorfindel crossed the room, pausing long enough to bestow a kiss upon his cheek, and then the Elda proceeded to the bed. Glorfindel walked around it slowly, fingers gliding over the soft silks that dressed the large, iron bed. Though made of one of the strongest of metals, it was beautifully elegant: curved, entwined bars wound together formed posts at all four corners. The headboard was made of intricate scrollwork consisting of vines, golden leaves, and crystal stars, symbolizing their current houses, and two linked, golden rings were centered at the top. The field of the headboard was embellished with two striking emblems, both framed in a diamond shape. On the right was a smooth, crystal-winged moon with cut stars around it - the mark of the house of Elu Thingol and the Sindar. On the left was a golden, blazing sun, the mark of the House of the Golden Flower. The headboard symbolized their heritage and who they were, and the linked rings symbolized their union.

"It is . . . astounding," Glorfindel said softly, as he gazed upon the headboard. He turned to his mate and said, "I shall have one made just like it, for my chambers in Imladris."

Thranduil smiled as he moved to join his lover. He wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's waist and leaned his chin upon the Noldo's shoulder. "No doubt it will be just as beautiful, given the skill of the Eregion Smiths."

Glorfindel turned in his mate's arms and caressed Thranduil's jaw with the backs of his fingers. "A post came today, Erestor delivered it to me. Elrond has given me leave to stay through the winter; it seems all is quiet in Imladris."

Thranduil closed his eyes, savoring the gentle touch of his husband. "Mmm . . . that is most joyous news - cause to celebrate, I think."

Glorfindel leaned in, caressing the curve of Thranduil's ear with his lips. "I think a private celebration would be best."

Thranduil laughed huskily. "Yes, I do agree, my love."

"Shall we begin now?"

Thranduil arched into his husband's arms as his hands slid down the long, elegant curve of Glorfindel's back. "As tempting as this is, and believe me, it is most tempting, I must join Erestor in council chambers. He mentioned something about negotiations with the Lake Men."

Glorfindel held the back of Thranduil's head in one hand, and grasped the king's backside with the other. "I see," he murmured, as he bestowed a long lick to the curve of Thranduil's ear. "I suppose I must wait for you here then." He pressed his groin into his husband's, earning a soft groan from him.

"Sweet Elbereth," Thranduil whispered, quickly approaching a heightened state of arousal. Thranduil clutched his mate's firm backside tighter, his fingernails skirting the seam in the warrior's tight, leather breeches. "Erestor does not need me," he whispered hoarsely. "He is a far better negotiator than I am; besides, he knows my mind."

Glorfindel grinned wolfishly. "Good." He guided his beloved to the bed. "Then let us properly initiate this beautiful bed."

To be continued...

Chapter 52:

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir hatch a plot to trap Haldir, a celebration takes place in the Hall of Fire, and a more private celebration occurs in Mirkwood.

"He will be most displeased," Elrohir said, grinning mischievously. "What if he is so incensed that he does not discern the nature of this prank?"

Elladan chuckled. "Then I imagine that we will have to defend ourselves against his wrath."

"Do you think grandfather will be angry with us?"

"Only if he finds out."

"Are you sure she will do it? What if she gets confused or distracted?"

"She will do it. She is very well trained." Elladan rubbed the large wolfhound's head. "You are a good girl," he said affectionately as the hound thumped her tail and tried to lick his nose.

Elrohir rubbed the hound's shoulder. "Yes you are, Celeglam." The dog turned quickly and licked Elrohir in the mouth. He laughed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Elladan chuckled. "I told you she was swift; she has that name for a reason."

Elrohir laughed as the dog tackled him and stood over him, licking his face as he tossed his head. "Bah! Elladan!"

Elladan laughed heartily and tugged at the dog's collar. "Come girl, do not make me jealous now." Celeglam jumped on Elladan and growled playfully. Soon both brothers were wrestling the large dog in the soft grass.

A long, high-pitched whistle caught the dog's attention, and she barked in response and left the meadow at a run.

"Feeding time," Elladan said as he sat up and brushed the grass off his shoulders.

Elrohir remained on his back, looking up at his twin. A broad smile curved his lips, and he reached up, brushing Elladan's heavy hair back over his shoulder. "'Tis a beautiful day," he said softly.

"Aye," Elladan answered, leaning on one hand as he looked down at his twin. "It is especially beautiful after such a long winter."

"Agreed," Elrohir said. "I would like to lie here awhile and enjoy it. We have time before this evening's festivities."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, brother," Elladan replied, and he lay down next to his twin and took his hand.

* * * *

After the welcoming dinner in honor of Celeborn, the group moved to the Hall of Fire, where Lindir and Celebrus prepared to entertain the honored guest. Rúmil sat beside his brother; both were clad in understated, yet elegant attire. Rúmil's gaze was fixed on Lindir, as the flaxen haired Noldo raised his exquisite voice in song. Celebrus accompanied the master minstrel, and together their voices blended in harmonious melody.

Elves swirled around the dance floor; couples swaying and slowly turning to the beautiful love song that Lindir had penned. It was a story of the wonder of love, and of two males who were utterly committed to one another. Many in the room recognized the couple Lindir sang of, though no names were used. Elladan and Elrohir, distracted from their plan for Haldir, were transfixed by Lindir's song. Never had one captured the nature and intensity of their love for one another so perfectly in music and words.

Gildor sat back in a tall, over-stuffed chair near Elrond and Celeborn, a smile curving his lips as his lover's voice hung in the air. He had never been so happy, not in all of his long, long life. Celeborn immediately noticed the change in the ancient Noldo, and he smiled in appreciation.

"You are transformed, my old friend," he said to Gildor.

"Love does that to one, does it not?" Gildor answered.

"Indeed it does," Celeborn replied.

"I seem to have heard tales of your distraction upon meeting my kinswoman." Gildor winked as he took a sip of wine and Celeborn grinned in response.

"Aye, and that is how I have spent the better part of my life - distracted by my beautiful and wise wife."

Elrond, while happy that Gildor was in love, could not help but miss Celebrían. He felt in his heart that she was healing, yet that did not keep him from wishing she was with him that night. He felt Arwen's hand upon his shoulder, and he placed his own strong hand upon her delicate one.

"Dance with me, papa," she said softly.

Elrond rose and took his daughter's hand, then led her to the dance floor.

"There are few that rival my granddaughter's beauty," Celeborn said proudly.

"Aye, the Evenstar shines brightly this eve, my lord," Gildor answered.

"She makes us all proud. She is destined for great things, as my wife has foreseen."

"Wise and beautiful, strong of will and heart, and radiant. Someday someone will be most lucky to win that strong and wise heart," Gildor answered.

Celeborn raised his glass and turned his eyes to the dance floor.

As the song concluded, and Lindir bowed in acceptance of the loud applause he received, the minstrels prepared to play a more rousing tribute to the beauty of life. Celebrus stepped forward as Lindir clasped his wrist and gave him a smile of encouragement. It was the first time that Celebrus would perform a song he had composed on his own.

The tempo was lively, but not frantic, the melody uplifting, and as he raised his voice in song, couples immediately crowded the dance floor. Celebrus had difficulty delivering the vocal due to the smile that he could not seem to control. Elves wheeled and spun, heads bobbing in time to the music. Elladan and Elrohir, front and center with Arwen, shimmied and twirled, lifting their laughing sister into the air. Celeborn, Elrond, and Gildor, lifting their glasses, tapped their feet in time to the music. Lindir grabbed Rúmil and joined the reverie. Soon, the Hall of Fire was filled to the brim as elves crowded the dance floor and laughter echoed in the halls. Voices were raised in unison, singing the chorus along with Celebrus.

Celebrus swayed and shook his hips, his braids gently swaying around his face as his joyful voice filled the hall. His gaze was fixed on Gildor, who smiled so proudly at him. The only thing that could have made the moment perfect would have been having Thranduil, Legolas, and Glorfindel present.

As the song concluded, the Hall of Fire exploded with cheers and applause. Celebrus laughed and gave a sweeping bow of thanks. Gildor rose from his chair and made his way thorough the crowd, grasping his beloved by the waist and lifting him high into the air while the revelers cheered.

Far across the mountains to the east, another, more private celebration of life took place.

* * * *

Glorfindel leaned his head back, his eyes unfocused as he undulated atop his mate's body. Sensations flooded his mind: his beloved's turgid arousal filling him and opening him up, Thranduil's hands on his hips, his own rigid length aching to be touched, their hearts beating together, the sounds of their breathing and deep moans, his lover's approaching ecstasy... There were no words that could describe it: the vulnerability, the love, the passion, and the overwhelming sense of completeness that came over him, over them both, when they made love. Thranduil arched beneath him, his beautiful body tight as a bowstring, his alabaster flesh glistening with sweat, dusky nipples painfully erect, his flaxen hair tossed around his face. He fought to maintain the pace, slow and deliberate, meant to draw out the burning in their blood. He teetered on the verge, in that place between the need to prolong and the need to bring it to an end.

Thranduil dug his fingers into Glorfindel's hips and groaned deeply. The physical and emotional sensations were overwhelming, and he surrendered to them completely. "Finish me," he said hoarsely.

Glorfindel leaned down, placing his hands on each side of his mate's head. "Are you sure?" he breathed. "Is it what you want?"

"Yes, Elbereth, yes. I cannot stand it any longer. Please... I need it..."

Glorfindel began to move faster, feeling Thranduil's impending climax burning his blood. A heartrending cry escaped his lover's lips as Thranduil arched powerfully beneath him and his beloved's essence flooded his body. Glorfindel stroked his own weeping and swollen arousal, spreading his essence along its length. As he rose from his mate's body, Thranduil nearly went limp beneath him, and a long, drawn out moan of relief combined with an unfulfilled need escaped his lips. Gathering his lover's long legs in his arms, he entered Thranduil's pliable body and groaned. He slid the king's legs onto his shoulders and sunk deep inside him, taking Thranduil's face in his hands and consuming his mouth.

Glorfindel drank deeply as he rode his mate's strong form, as if he were drinking the very essence of Thranduil's spirit. His face hovering over the Sinda's, he gazed into dark, sultry eyes, looked at wet, swollen lips, caressed a flushed cheek. He would never tire of the sound of his mate's voice lost in passion, the deep, husky moans, or the whispered words of devotion. Their mouths were almost touching, each one's warm breath caressing the other's lips. They both knew that this was what was meant to be all along; that this was what they were born to.

Glorfindel closed his eyes as his body surrendered to the fall, and he spilled deep inside the king's body. "I love you," he heard Thranduil whisper. He smiled and laughed softly. "Oh my love," he whispered, "a more precious gift has never been given."

Thranduil wrapped his arms and legs around the Elda, his Glorfindel, his husband. They lay in one another's arms until they finally drifted into reverie.

* * * *

Legolas looked at him with that mixture of coy playfulness and predatory sensuality that always turned his blood into liquid heat. Squeezing the sponge, he caressed his beloved's leanly muscled chest, dusky nipples hardened beneath his ministrations, and the prince's hands tightened on the edges of the tub.

"Do you remember our first night together?" Erestor murmured, trying to ignore the insistent ache and the press of his own rigid arousal against his stomach.

"How could I forget?" Legolas answered huskily, and he shifted in the tub, causing the water to gently slosh against the sides. "You were most reluctant."

Erestor chuckled. "That is because I did not know who my hunter was. Had I known it was you, I would have been far more eager."

Legolas licked his lips. "Aye, you were eager enough when I removed my mask."

"Well, I had fancied you for some time prior to that night."

Legolas wrapped his legs around Erestor's waist and pulled him closer. "I know. Your desire was fixed on me, even when you had the attention of Glorfindel."

Erestor cocked his head. "What do you mean, my love?"

Legolas chuckled wickedly. "You really do not think that I did not know what he was doing to you beneath the water as you watched me, do you?" When Erestor did not answer, but flushed instead, he continued, "You remember, the first night you arrived, two nights before the Hunt? You and Glorfindel were sitting on one side of the bath, and I came in..."

"Oh, I remember," Erestor answered. "I just cannot believe you knew what he did."

Legolas reached up and slid his hand behind Erestor's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. "You forget, my youth belies my experience, my love," he murmured before pressing his mouth to Erestor's.

Erestor quickly took control of the kiss, drinking deeply of his lover's mouth as he shifted to lie against Legolas in the warm water. Legolas bent his knees, causing Erestor's weight to settle closer against him. Erestor could feel the prince's arousal pressing against his own, and the Sinda began to roll his hips slightly, causing their lengths to brush against one another. Erestor held his upper body above the water by holding to the edges of the tub and Legolas wrapped his legs around his hips.

"You know what I want," Legolas murmured against Erestor's lips.

Erestor flicked his tongue against the prince's open lips. "Aye, my love, and you shall have it."

"I love you, Erestor," Legolas whispered as Erestor's lips moved to his neck.

"I love you, my prince," Erestor answered.

To be continued...

Chapter 53:

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir see their plot come to fruition, and Haldir gets a surprise.

It was late as the revelers slowly departed the Hall of Fire. Haldir stood on the veranda, looking at the moonlit gardens. He had many dancing partners that night, and as he enjoyed the night air, he unbuttoned his tunic at the collar.

"'Twas warm in there, yes?"

He clenched his jaw at the sound of that voice and fought to control the sneer that threatened to mar his otherwise peaceful expression. Turning slowly, he came face to face with his nemeses, Elladan and Elrohir. As expected of one of good and dignified breeding, he bowed his head to the twins in respect. "Yes, my lords, it grew quite warm."

"Elladan and I were thinking of taking a swim in the river. The water is somewhat cold, but very refreshing after a long night of dancing. Would you care to join us?" Elrohir asked.

"No thank you, my lords," Haldir replied. "I am content here."

"Oh, but we must insist," Elladan answered. "You would not refuse our hospitality, now would you, Captain?"

Haldir fought not to sigh in exasperation. "Of course not, my lord. I shall accompany you." He followed them back inside and out the front doors of the Last Homely House.

The twins chatted amiably on the way to the river, and Haldir followed them, nodding when appropriate, answering when required. He harbored a fundamental mistrust of those two; they had been known to cause mischief on more than one occasion.

As they arrived at the river, he noticed that Elladan had quickly glanced toward the bushes. He followed the peredhel's gaze, but found nothing to be alarmed by, only a large hound lying in the brush. Since there was livestock nearby, he assumed the dog was there to watch over the herds.

He turned aside as the twins stripped naked and he began unbuttoning his tunic. This was not an ideal way to spend an evening, and he did not relish the thought of being naked in the presence of these two miscreants; however, he was duty bound to accept their offer of friendship, no matter how reluctant he was.

They jumped into the water together, ducking beneath the surface, heedless of the elaborate, beaded braids in their hair. Haldir stripped to his loincloth, then waded carefully into the water at a low spot on the bank. Content to enjoy the cool water a short distance away from the twins and their raucous water play, he found a smooth rock to lean against. With his back to the bank, he did not see the large hound creep from the bushes, her belly close to the ground, nor did he see her carefully take his shoes and garments in her mouth and silently jog away.

Elrohir laughed as Elladan dipped beneath the water and swam between his legs. Clouds cleared over their heads and Ithil shone brightly upon them. He closed his eyes and smiled, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his brother's hands caressed his thighs, sliding up the outside of his legs and around his waist as Elladan rose from the water behind him.

Haldir tried to look away but it was difficult. As maddening as they were, they were also intoxicating to look upon; he had never seen them be intimate with one another, though many knew of the nature of their relationship. They were nearly mirror images of one another, though Elladan was slightly taller, and Elrohir was slightly broader. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched strong hands push aside heavy, sable hair, full lips caress lightly tanned skin, strong, warriors' bodies slowly begin to move against one another.

Haldir's breath caught in his throat as darkening silver eyes fixed him to the spot where he rested. Elrohir looked at him intently as Elladan's mouth explored the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Haldir did not need to hear what he said as Elrohir's lips formed the word, "Come," and a warrior's hand was outstretched to him. Part of him wanted to join them, yet they frightened him in a way that he could not explain. When he did not move toward them, Elladan turned and looked at him, then they swam to where he sat.

Had he been wise, he would have left the river immediately, feigning weariness. But he was not wise, at least not in that moment, and they closed in around him before he could run. Fingertips caressed his cheek and he leaned back, trapped between them and the rock.

"Come, my warrior," Elladan whispered. "We wish you no ill will."

"Nay," Elrohir agreed. "We only wish to show you how beautiful we think you are."

Haldir tensed as Elrohir's hand came to rest on his chest, then slowly began to slide lower.

"So beautiful," Elladan murmured. "Like moonlight made corporeal, all silver and blue, like the night sky..."

As the elder peredhel leaned in to kiss him, Haldir panicked and stood quickly. "Forgive me, my lords," he said, as he not so gently pushed past them. "I fear I am still weary from travel and have had too much wine."

He quickly climbed upon the bank and stood dumbfounded when he stared at the empty place where his clothes once lay. Anger seethed just beneath the surface, and finally, feeling humiliated and vulnerable, his loincloth clinging wetly to his burgeoning arousal, he wheeled on them. "Where are my clothes?" he barked.

Elrohir floated backward into the gentle stream. "Whatever do you mean? Are they not there?"

Haldir felt his face grow hot. "You know they are not here! Where did you put them?"

Elladan grinned. "We have been in the water all this time. When would we have hidden them that you would not have seen us?"

"An accomplice! You must have an accomplice!" He began storming around the small clearing.

Elladan raised himself so that he could peer over the bank. "It seems that our accomplice took our clothing as well."

Haldir wheeled on him again. "The hound! The hound in the bushes!"

Elrohir laughed aloud. "Come now, Haldir. Do you really think we spend our days teaching hounds to steal clothes? What use would she have for them?"

He paused and leaned heavily against a tree trunk, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands. "What in Eru's name have I done to deserve your never-ending ill treatment?" he groaned.

The twins left the stream and approached him cautiously. "Do you think so ill of us that we would seek to humiliate you for sport?" Elladan asked quietly.

"We only wanted to see beneath your composed exterior, Haldir," Elrohir continued. "To know who the elf is behind the controlled warrior."

He removed his hands from his face. "I believe you find satisfaction in my undoing," he answered, then his breath caught again as the twins cornered him against the bole of the tree. Elrohir leaned heavily against him, the peredhel's arousal pressing into his thigh.

"Perhaps we do seek your undoing, but not in the way you believe," he murmured, then pressed his lips against Haldir's throat.

"We have long thought you to be beautiful, unapproachable," Elladan whispered into the Silvan's ear. "We had to resort to tricks to have this opportunity."

Haldir clenched his jaw as his body betrayed his will. "Who says you have won it?" he answered softly. He pressed his head back against the tree as Elrohir's hand slid down his stomach, the peredhel's fingers gently working their way inside his loincloth.

"Your body does," Elrohir murmured as one hand closed around Haldir's rigid arousal, and with his free one, he removed the damp, thin cloth.

"Please," Elladan whispered into Haldir's ear. "Trust us, we mean you no harm."

Haldir moaned as Elladan's full lips closed on the point of his ear. "I should not trust you, I know this."

"We promise you," Elrohir whispered as he clasped Haldir's jaw with his free hand. "We will bring you no harm, nor give you cause to be angry with us." He pressed his lips against Haldir's. The marchwarden was reluctant at first, then slowly his mouth softened and Elrohir felt Haldir's tongue slide inside his mouth. The Silvan fisted his hair as the kiss intensified, and he walked them both backward slowly as Elladan guided them toward the soft, tall grass.

Haldir's mouth left his own and continued to his neck, where the captain sunk his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He groaned at the mingled sensation of pleasure and pain.

Haldir felt Elladan's body press against his back and the peredhel's hand in his hair, and then his head was pulled back.

"Go easy, my captain," Elladan murmured with a mixture of sensuality and warning. "There are some things that are only meant for me."

Haldir turned his head to gaze into eyes the color of a storm-filled sky, alluring and threatening all at once. "Forgive me," he replied huskily. He closed his eyes as he felt Elladan's strong hand grip his backside.

"You are forgiven," Elladan answered, then took the point of Haldir's ear in his mouth.

Haldir moaned and turned his gaze back to Elrohir. "Forgive me," he whispered, then soothed the bruised flesh of Elrohir's throat with his tongue.

Elrohir parted his legs and felt the combined weight of his brother and the archer press him into the grass. "Forgiven," he whispered as he arched against Haldir. The Silvan worked his way down his body with his mouth, tormenting his nipples, and teasing his belly with gentle nips and soft kisses. Elrohir tangled Haldir's hair in his fingers as the archer took him in his mouth. "Ah, gods," he groaned as Haldir swallowed him deep.

Haldir moaned, sending a vibrating sensation along Elrohir's swollen length, as a wet, slick muscle probed his own entrance. He felt Elladan pushing his legs further apart as the peredhel delved deeper with his tongue, and he groaned in response. Elrohir was beginning to thrust into his mouth with some urgency now, and he struggled to pin the peredhel's hips to the ground. Withdrawing his mouth, Haldir gasped as the pouch of skin that lay beneath his straining arousal was nearly swallowed whole. Elrohir begged him to finish, the peredhel's hips were still flexing and arching, despite the lack of contact with his mouth. Recovering, he again took Elrohir in his mouth and began pumping the peredhel's length. With fingers slick from holding the base of Elrohir's arousal, he slid a single digit inside the half-elf's body. Elrohir cried out, arching so powerfully beneath him that they were lifted from the ground. Again, he brushed the place inside all males that caused fire to explode in their veins, and again, Elrohir cried out and arched beneath him. Perhaps they had sought his undoing, but it was he who would see theirs.

He pumped Elrohir's length with his hand, his mouth sliding faster and faster along the swelling column of flesh. A strangled moan escaped him as Elladan's fingers found their mark, and he heard the elder peredhel whisper into his ear, "'Tis only fair that I repay you what you give to my brother." Elrohir's seed burst forth into the back of his throat and he swallowed what he could, lapping up what was left, his tongue caressing Elrohir's softening length.

Elladan's hand slid along Haldir's achingly hard and weeping length, then he spread the Silvan's seed along his own length, using it to prepare to penetrate the marchwarden. Haldir's body tensed in anticipation of the breaching, then Elrohir's soft, full lips wrapped around his arousal. As the younger peredhel began to swallow him, the elder entered him, and he groaned and arched against Elladan. Elladan moved slowly inside him as Elrohir took him deeper. His head was spinning, his body arching and aching between them and all he could do was voice his desire in wordless groans.

Elladan held the archer's body close to his chest, hands gripping and caressing Haldir's muscled form, riding his lean, warrior's body with growing intensity. Haldir cried out and Elrohir milked the marchwarden's essence from him, then Elladan began to ride him harder.

Elrohir took Elladan's face in his hands. "Taste him, brother," he breathed. "He is sweet."

Haldir watched with dazed eyes as Elrohir thoroughly kissed his twin, then the peredhel turned his attention back to him.

"So sweet," Elrohir murmured, then took Haldir's mouth in a kiss. He swallowed Haldir's cry as Elladan struck his mark, and Haldir's body tightened again, despite being spent. Elladan's deep growl filled his ears, and Elrohir released Haldir's mouth and smiled.

The three of them lay in the tall grass, looking up at the moon.

"Now, was that so bad?" Elrohir murmured.

"Not at all," Elladan answered with a grin.

Elrohir playfully punched Elladan's shoulder. "Not you, Haldir!"

Haldir chuckled. "No, it was not bad at all." He wrapped one arm around each of them and pulled them closer. "I may grow used to these pranks of yours, in time."

Elladan laughed softly. "Now this is a surprise."

To be continued...

Chapter 54:

Summary: Celebrus' journey home begins, Legolas learns a lesson from Glorfindel.

As spring gave way to summer, the twins, Celebrus, and Gildor prepared to depart Imladris for Mirkwood. Celeborn decided to extend his stay and assist Elrond in managing Imladris' defenses. Haldir was happy to help in this regard, as was Rúmil. Imladris' warriors were fine soldiers: excellent horsemen, skilled swordsmen, and formidable in open combat. However, they lacked stealth, and in a world where there were fewer and fewer elves, stealth was something Haldir believed they would all need, eventually. The Noldor could no longer depend upon overwhelming their enemy by sheer force and skill in open warfare. Haldir, with Elrond and Celeborn's blessing, took charge of teaching the Imladris soldiers the art of stealth as the Silvan of Lórien knew it.

Celebrus accepted a large package from Arwen with the promise that he would not open until he arrived in Mirkwood. He also agreed to carry three smaller ones as well; they were gifts for Glorfindel, Erestor, and her friend Legolas. Elrohir playfully swatted Celebrus' backside as the Silvan moved toward his horse, and Gildor jokingly chastised the younger peredhel.

"See you soon," Elrohir said quietly as he kissed Arwen's cheek.

"We will return come the end of autumn," Elladan confirmed.

Arwen wrapped her arms around them both. "Please, take care, and do not take the path through the mountains."

"We will not," Elladan answered as he caressed his sister's hair. "Do not make yourself ill with worry, sister."

"I will try not to," she answered and hugged them both tightly.

They said farewell to their father and grandfather as Celebrus said farewell to Lindir, then mounted their horses. Departing the courtyard at a gallop, the four companions rode into the rising sun.

They reached the outer edges of their homeland in the late afternoon. They were now further from the Last Homely House than Celebrus had been since his arrival in Imladris.

"I have often wondered what the world looks like outside of my two homes," Celebrus said thoughtfully as he looked up through the tree boughs.

"Much of this world is beautiful, still the way Eru made it," Gildor answered. "While I want you to enjoy this journey, my love, we must remain vigilant."

"Yes," Elladan agreed. "There are dangerous lands that we must travel through as we journey south."

"How long will it take us to reach Mirkwood, taking this road?" Celebrus asked.

"A fortnight," Elrohir answered, "assuming we do not encounter trouble."

"It will take longer, but it is the safer road," Gildor added, then he reached over and gave his lover's hand a squeeze.

"I am anxious to return," Celebrus replied, "but I would not take undue risks." He stroked his gelding's neck. "I wonder if my lord will be angry with me for returning so much sooner than he commanded?"

Elladan smiled. "Oh, I doubt it, my friend. I suspect he will be most happy to see you."

"I will be very happy to see him, and Legolas," Celebrus replied.

As they rode along the trail, climbing steadily uphill, Elladan grew silent. Elrohir sensed apprehension in his twin, and knew it was not due to any danger he perceived around them. Elladan's apprehension came from their impending meeting with Erestor and Legolas. Neither of them knew what Erestor might have told Legolas, and that unknown was slowly eating away at Elladan. In part, it was the reason Elrohir suggested they accompany Gildor and Celebrus; he felt his twin needed to face their old friend, sooner rather than later. Elladan carried a great deal of guilt where Legolas was concerned. Elrohir knew his brother loved the prince like a brother, the three of them had long been dear friends. Elladan worried now about what the truth would do to that bond of friendship, and if Legolas would ever forgive him for what he had done.

For Elrohir's part, he was more worried about the meeting of Erestor and Celebrus, now that he had seen the bond that Celebrus and Legolas had once shared. When he and Elladan had looked into Celebrus' mind, they had seen Legolas and Celebrus together and felt the love and need between them. While Elrohir was confident that Celebrus' heart belonged wholly to Gildor now, he worried about how Erestor would react upon seeing the Silvan. If Legolas and Erestor had been truthful with each other, as he believed they would be, then that meant that Erestor knew that his lover had lain with Celebrus since they had come to love one another. He could only hope that love was stronger than jealousy, and that all these things would be resolved.

* * * *

"Watch him carefully, my love. I doubt there has been a trick or slight of hand that he has not seen before." Erestor chewed his bottom lip as he watched Legolas and Glorfindel slowly circle one another. No one doubted that the prince was about to take a beating, and Erestor only hoped that Legolas did not force Glorfindel to be tougher than he had to be.

Thranduil stood beside Erestor, his arms crossed over his bare chest, watching his son and his mate prepare to engage one another. Legolas was formidable, he knew this, but there were few who walked the earth that could best Glorfindel in close combat, himself included. The Elda towered over Legolas, his imposing body moving with liquid grace, muscles coiling beneath his sweat-slicked skin. Legolas, being ever brave, refused to show that he was intimidated, though Thranduil knew he must be.

The wooden training sword that Glorfindel carried rocked slowly back and forth like a pendulum in front of him, the rhythmic motion had often lulled an opponent into a momentary lapse of vulnerability, and a moment was all he needed. Legolas' gaze was fixed on his own, refusing to look directly at the sword as it moved slowly from side to side. The prince carried two smaller weapons, also made of wood, which simulated the knives that his woodland kin preferred.

The prince struck first. As Glorfindel's blade swung to the left, Legolas turned and brought his training knife down in an arc, striking the Elda's right shoulder. Just as he hit, and prepared to give a triumphant shout, he felt Glorfindel's heavier training sword strike him soundly at the back of the neck. Lowering his knives, he dropped his head and sighed.

"You are dead, my prince," Glorfindel said gently. "Though, I am surely wounded." He patted Legolas on the shoulder. "Have I hurt you?"

Legolas rubbed the back of his neck. "Nay, my lord, only my pride is wounded."

Glorfindel smiled. "Never turn your back on your opponent's blade, particularly an elf's. Orcs may not move so fast as to catch you, but, Eru forbid, if you ever find yourself battling one of your own kindred, or a man, that mistake will cost you your life."

They turned and prepared to begin again. Legolas regrouped and then asked, "What was it like?"

Glorfindel's expression grew serious. "Alqualondë?"

"Aye."

"Terrible," Glorfindel replied. "I have never felt so grieved, nor so ashamed of anything I have ever done."

"But you had to fight or die, yes?"

"True," Glorfindel answered. "Erestor and I arrived late, as did Gildor. The battle had already begun and it grew worse by the moment. As soon as blood was spilled, all hopes of a resolution outside of violence were lost. There were many of my kindred that fought to defend themselves and were drawn into the momentum of the battle. War takes on a life of its own on the battlefield." Glorfindel took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head as if to shake the memory from his mind. "Come, my prince. Let us continue."

Legolas bowed his head, then took a battle stance. Again, the Elda's blade rocked back and forth. 'He is waiting for me to strike,' Legolas thought to himself. 'Perhaps I should invite him to do so...' He held one knife tip up, the other tip down. Feigning an attack, he raised one of his blades and shifted his weight to one foot. As the tip of Glorfindel's blade rocked to the right, Legolas made to jab upward with the knife in his right hand, guessing that Glorfindel would bring his blade back to the left, making to strike him in the arm. However, the Elda adjusted his grip, bringing the blade in a circular motion, arching upward and catching the edge of his knife, propelling it backward toward his head. This forced Legolas to duck to the left, and to compensate, the prince brought his training knife down, striking Glorfindel upon the forearm.

Glorfindel grimaced as the wooden blade made contact, then dropped the sword accordingly as if he were truly wounded. He saw the smile spread across the prince's face as he bent down and caught his arm, then faster than Legolas could see, he dove forward, driving his shoulder into the prince's chest and knocking Legolas flat on his back in the sand. Quickly, he grasped his training sword in his left hand and brought it in a large arc with the blade parallel to the ground, narrowly missing Legolas' head as the Sinda began to regain his feet.

Legolas scrambled backward in the sand, dropping one of his knives. The heavy wooden blade had missed his head by mere inches. As Glorfindel advanced upon him again, he rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding the tip of the wooden sword as it jabbed downward.

The battle continued, and both Thranduil and Erestor had difficulty watching. As the sparring intensified, they began to wonder if someone would not be seriously injured. They already knew they would be nursing minor cuts and bruises that night.

Glorfindel grunted as a bare foot struck him soundly in the abdomen and he staggered backward a few steps to recover his balance and his wind. One of the prince's training knives struck him hard in the wrist, and he dropped his sword in the sand. Legolas caught him by the shoulders, planting his foot behind one of Glorfindel's, then with all his strength, he pushed the Elda and knocked him to his back.

Glorfindel growled as he struck the sand and the prince fell upon him. Immediately, he saw Legolas' error: the prince had dropped his weapon. Now, they were both unarmed as they wrestled in the sand, and Glorfindel immediately knew he had the advantage. Heavier and taller than Legolas, and it was not long before he had the prince on his back, his arms pinned to the ground on each side of his head. Glorfindel sat atop the Sinda, looking into Legolas' flushed face.

Legolas looked up at Glorfindel. The Noldo reminded him of a fierce lion; his golden hair hung around his face like a thick mane, dark eyes pierced into his own, and his lips were drawn into a feral sneer.

"Do you yield?" the Elda's deep voice growled.

"Aye," Legolas answered, though it grieved him to do so. He hated losing in combat.

"Why?" Glorfindel queried.

"Because I am beaten," Legolas replied, squirming in vain against the Noldo's weight. "I cannot move you, nor can I escape your grasp."

Glorfindel's eyes slowly began to return to the gentle shade of azure that Legolas was accustomed to seeing. "Do you know where you made your mistake?" Glorfindel asked.

"I should not have dropped my weapon."

"Aye. That forced you on even ground with me and put you at a disadvantage. You cannot beat me in a battle of sheer strength."

"Agreed," Legolas answered, his chest heaving from the exertion.

Glorfindel smiled and affectionately patted the prince's cheek. "Well done, my prince. The last one to knock me off my feet was your father."

Legolas smiled as he sat up. "Truly?"

"Aye, truly." Glorfindel rose to his feet and offered his hand. "Next time, you will fight better having learned from this experience."

Legolas accepted the proffered hand and allowed Glorfindel to help him stand. "Aye, I will, my lord. Many thanks for your tutelage."

"It was my pleasure, Legolas." He gave an affectionate squeeze to the prince's shoulder, then they both turned to face their lovers. He chuckled as he met Erestor's chastising gaze. "Do not worry, my friend. Legolas has suffered no injury that some of your loving care cannot remedy."

Thranduil laughed heartily, then placed a kiss upon the crown of Legolas' head. "Well done, Greenleaf. You have made me proud."

Legolas smiled, then turned to Erestor. "Come, my love. Let us remove ourselves from this place before you and Glorfindel come to blows."

"I abhor violence," Erestor grumbled as they walked away.

"I know you do," Legolas replied softly, "which is why I am grateful that you came to lend me your support."

Erestor smiled and placed a kiss upon the side of his beloved's head. "You need a bath."

Legolas smiled, then purred as he pressed his face to Erestor's neck. "Mmm... and you are just the elf to give it to me."

To be continued...

Chapter 55:

Summary: Celebrus returns to Mirkwood.

As Celebrus stood beside his mount, allowing the gelding to drink from the Anduin, he looked upon the entry of the elf path that would carry him home. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. So much had changed since he had left his Mirkwood home the year before; it was such a small amount of time for so many changes. "Time is a strange thing," he said softly.

"Why say you?" Gildor asked his lover, gently brushing Celebrus' hair from his shoulder.

"It has both flown and crawled," Celebrus answered. "It has only been a year since I last looked upon this place, but it seems so long ago."

"Are you apprehensive?" Gildor asked.

"Nay, my love," Celebrus answered. "Only anxious to see them."

"'Tis time," Elladan said quietly. "Shall we go?"

Celebrus smiled. "Aye. I am most eager to see my home."

"We will be there tomorrow night," Elrohir said. "I am looking forward to seeing our friends, and to sleeping in a warm, soft bed."

They mounted their horses and cantered toward the entrance to the forest, slowing to a walk and proceeding single file as they entered the trees.

* * * *

Legolas met his father's herald coming down the corridor toward the throne room. "Well met," he said as the herald slid to a stop on the smooth stone floor. "Is something amiss?"

"We have visitors, my lord," the herald replied. "I was on my way to inform the king."

"What sort of visitors?"

"The Sons of Elrond, Gildor Inglorion, and..." the herald smiled, "young Master Celebrus."

"Celebrus!" Legolas said, and headed for the courtyard at a run.

As he bounded down the stairs, he heard the sound of hoof beats on the stone bridge. Looking up, he saw the horses trot into the courtyard and immediately spied his friend. "Celebrus!" he cried as he ran toward the Silvan.

"Legolas!" Celebrus called, as he slid from his horse's back and ran toward the prince. He laughed as he was caught up in Legolas' embrace and swung in a large arc.

Elladan and Elrohir dismounted, both of them smiling to see how happy Legolas and Celebrus were to see one another. Elrohir cast a sideways glance at his brother and saw Elladan's smile begin to fade. As he followed his twin's gaze, he saw Legolas looking at them from over Celebrus' shoulder. Elrohir gave Elladan's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Erestor entered from the doorway that led to the storeroom and saw the new arrivals. A broad smile curved his lips when he saw the twins, but it faded when he saw the look on Elladan's face. He saw Legolas holding Celebrus tight and felt his stomach slowly roll over. Closing his eyes, he chastised himself for his foolish insecurity, then straightened his robes and approached the new arrivals.

Gildor looked upon the reunion with mixed emotions. While he knew Celebrus' heart belonged to him, and he was glad that his beloved was so happy to be reunited with this member of his family, he also knew how close they had once been. He watched as the prince caressed his beloved's cheek and they pressed their foreheads together. He imagined them as they once were, commiserating and finding stolen moments alone, sharing their minds and hearts, and sharing their beds.

"There is someone you must meet," Celebrus said softly. "Someone who means as much to me as you do."

Legolas smiled. "This is impossible, am I not the most important elf in your life?"

Celebrus laughed softly and gently punched Legolas in the shoulder. "You know I love you, brother," he said gently. "And now I have someone new to love."

"Someone who makes you happy?" Legolas asked quietly.

"Aye, Legolas, someone who has made me so very happy."

"Then lead me to this elf," Legolas answered with a broad grin. "I would meet the one who has captured my fox's heart." He swallowed as Celebrus took him by the hand and led him toward a tall, regal Noldo. His gaze flitted toward Elladan, and as they approached, he reached out and embraced Elrohir. "Good to see you again, my friend," he said softly. "I am most glad to see you looking so hale."

Elrohir smiled as he embraced the prince. "And you look as beautiful as you ever have," he answered.

Legolas turned to Elladan, catching a glimpse of Erestor, who stood close by. He looked at the peredhel thoughtfully. Never had he seen one look so guilty; it was clear that Elladan was worried about this meeting. He took a deep breath and then embraced Elladan. "Well met, Elladan," he said softly.

Elladan embraced Legolas gratefully. "Well met, my friend," he answered. "I wondered how this meeting would go."

Legolas drew back and looked into Elladan's eyes. "I am so sorry about your mother, my friend. I know how you must feel."

Elladan cupped the prince's cheek. "I was hoping you would understand. Know this, Legolas, I never meant to cause any harm."

"Neither did I," Legolas answered. "Let us put it behind us, Elladan."

"Gladly, my friend."

Legolas felt Celebrus' hand upon his arm and he turned to look at the Silvan. He followed Celebrus' gaze to look upon his companion.

"Legolas Thranduilion, this is Gildor Inglorion, my intended mate."

Legolas, reeling from Celebrus' words, took the Noldo's hand as the identity of the elf sunk in.

"'Tis an honor to meet one who is so dearly loved by Celebrus," Gildor said quietly.

Legolas watched as the Elda bowed his head in respect. Inglorion. The name echoed in his mind. Kinsman to Lady Galadriel, son of Finrod and follower of Fëanor. Kinslayer. Struggling to regain his composure, he shook Gildor's hand and answered softly, "I am the one who is honored, my lord."

"Thranduil..."

Celebrus' voice broke the strange moment, and Legolas turned to watch Celebrus run across the courtyard.

"Celebrus," Thranduil whispered, then he laughed as the Silvan jumped into his arms and clung tightly to him. "Oh, my fox," Thranduil said softly as he held Celebrus. "I have missed you so." He felt Celebrus begin to tremble and shudder, then he realized his beloved fox was weeping. "Why do you weep, my fox?" he asked softly.

"I have missed you so," Celebrus whispered into his ear. "I have been so worried about you."

Thranduil stroked Celebrus' hair as he sat him down. "There has been nothing to worry about, Celebrus. While I have missed you, Glorfindel has taken very good care of me."

"Glorfindel!" Celebrus cried, wiping the tears from his face.

Glorfindel embraced Celebrus. "Well met, my friend," he said softly. "You look happier than when I saw you last, though that was happy, surely."

Celebrus nodded. "Aye, and there is great reason for my happiness. Now all of the elves I love are in one place." He grasped Thranduil's hand. "Come, there is someone you must meet, my lord."

Glorfindel nodded to his mate and swallowed as he watched Celebrus lead Thranduil to Gildor.

"My lord, this is someone very special to me, meet Gildor Inglorion. Gildor, this is my king, Thranduil Oropherion."

Thranduil extended his hand slowly, then watched in surprise as the Noldo sank to one knee and bowed his head.

"'Tis an honor, your majesty," Gildor said softly.

"Rise, Gildor," Thranduil said quietly. "I would not have someone so dear to my Celebrus kneel before me."

Gildor rose and accepted the king's hand, looking into his eyes. Seeing no malice there, he smiled gently. "I am in your debt, it appears, my lord."

Thranduil cocked his head. "How so, Gildor?"

"You rescued Celebrus when he was young and sheltered him for many years. He loves you deeply, and for the care you gave him, I am grateful."

Thranduil looked at Celebrus, who was beaming. "It is I who should be grateful to you, Gildor, for bringing Celebrus so much joy. What makes my fox happy, makes me happy, and so said, you are welcomed into my home."

Glorfindel sighed a quiet sigh of relief, as did Erestor and the twins, who stood beside him.

Gildor bowed his head again and smiled.

"Come," Thranduil said. "You must all be tired from your long journey. Celebrus, this is still your home; please, show our guests the baths. Elladan and Elrohir, we shall have quarters prepared for you; Celebrus, you and Gildor shall make use of your old chambers, if that is comfortable for you."

Erestor cleared his throat. "I shall attend to that, my lord."

Thranduil nodded. "Many thanks, Erestor. Would you also see to it that a proper feast is laid this eve, to celebrate the arrival of our honored guests, and the homecoming of our dear Celebrus?" Erestor nodded in assent. Thranduil took Glorfindel's hand, placing a soft kiss upon the crown of Celebrus' head, then he walked inside with his mate.

As Erestor turned to see to his duties, he watched Legolas and Elladan embrace again. Sighing with relief, he made his way toward the kitchens to instruct the staff.

To be continued...

Chapter 56:

Summary: A story ends and new lives begin.

Elladan and Elrohir entered the cavernous feasting hall hand in hand, and found Erestor and Legolas standing by the massive fireplace, each holding a goblet in their hands. As they drew closer, Elrohir spied the mithril ring upon the prince's index finger, and he elbowed Elladan in the ribs.

Elladan grunted and began to protest when he saw Elrohir point toward Legolas' hand. A smile bloomed upon his lips as they approached.

"What is this?" Elrohir teased, grasping Legolas' wrist gently.

"And where is yours?" Elladan chided Erestor. "Come now, let us see."

Erestor rolled his eyes and set his goblet down, giving Elladan his right hand.

"You are betrothed!" Elrohir exclaimed. "By Elbereth, that is wonderful!" He embraced Legolas heartily.

Legolas laughed and tried to avoid spilling his wine. "Easy there, my friend. I would like to drink this, not have you wear it."

Elladan embraced Erestor. "This is something I am most happy to see," he said softly. "Our dear friend and our onetime tutor in love and engaged to be married."

The twins switched partners and Elrohir hugged Erestor as Elladan embraced Legolas. As Elladan drew away, he caressed the prince's cheek. "I can think of none so deserving of such happiness," he said softly.

"It really is good to see you, Elladan," Legolas said quietly.

Elladan smiled and kissed Legolas on the cheek.

The minstrels filed in, sitting in one corner and preparing their instruments. As more guests arrived, they began to play softly, providing a backdrop to the elves that milled around the room. Celebrus and Gildor arrived shortly after the twins, and joined the foursome after getting some wine. Sometime later, Glorfindel and Thranduil entered arm in arm, and after accepting goblets of wine, they joined their guests.

As they talked amongst themselves, catching up on all that had happened over the last year, something caught Celebrus' eye. He turned to see the golden band on his lord's index finger. A broad smile curved his lips. 'Yes,' he thought, 'Now all is as it should be.' He had seen Legolas' mithril band earlier, and had already expressed his happiness at the engagement of his prince. He had to admit, Thranduil's reaction to Gildor had been surprising; he had not expected his king to accept one who had once spilled the blood of his kin in his realm. In retrospect, he supposed he should not be so surprised, for Thranduil had now bound himself to a like elf, and given permission for Legolas to marry another. Old grudges stood no chance against true love, Celebrus supposed.

"You have all arrived at a very special time," Thranduil said, raising his glass. "For tomorrow is Midsummer's Eve and we have a very special tradition. Tomorrow night is the night of the Hunt, and for the second time in the history of this special event, I extend an invitation to our guests to participate if they wish. That invitation is extended to Celebrus, and his beloved, should they wish to participate."

Celebrus smiled. "And shall you participate, my lord?"

"I no longer partake, for I have a bonded mate," Thranduil answered softly. "But there are those who still play the game."

Celebrus looked to Legolas. "And will you participate, my prince?"

Legolas smiled broadly. "While I owe much to this tradition of ours, I will no longer partake. I have captured my prey, and he has captured my heart."

Erestor smiled and lifted Legolas' hand to his lips, pressing a kiss upon the back.

"And you, Celebrus?" Legolas queried. "Will you partake of what you have only watched all your life?"

Celebrus cocked his head, then smiled. "Nay, there are some things I have no desire to experience, and as you have said, I have captured that which I would have hunted." Gildor drew Celebrus close and kissed his temple.

"Well, I do not know about all of you," Elrohir said, "but after hearing tales of this Hunt for years, I definitely plan to participate."

Elladan nodded. "Well put, brother, I shall join you in this game."

Thranduil chuckled. "Well then, let me give you the rules..."

* * * *

Thranduil sat at his desk in his private study when he heard a knock upon his door. Looking up from the ledger, he called for his visitor to enter. "Gildor," he said with surprise. "To what may I attribute this honor?"

Gildor sat as Thranduil offered him a chair. "I have come on a very important mission, your majesty."

Thranduil folded his hands upon his desktop. "What can I assist you with, Gildor?"

"I have come to ask your permission to bond with Celebrus."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "Have you voiced your intentions to Celebrus?"

"I have, my lord, and he has consented to be my bonded mate, should you approve."

Thranduil smiled. "I still remember the day we brought him here. He was so young, so frail, so frightened. Ever since that day, I have sought to shelter him and guide him, to protect him from darkness and pain."

"And he loves you for it, my lord."

"As I love him." He sighed and cocked his head. "You are damned, Gildor, there is no doubt of that." Gildor nodded and looked at the floor. "However, I believe that the Valar are wiser than perhaps we firstborn give them credit for. In your life, you have done much good to atone for that one moment of evil. I can sense you have carried the blood of those you have slain on your hands all these long years. It is difficult for me to believe that the good you have done does not outweigh one terrible mistake. Though the pronouncement of the Valar was that you were exiled, I tend to believe that when the right day comes, you will be welcomed home." Thranduil rose and rounded the desk. "I can see that you love Celebrus deeply, and therefore, you have my blessing."

Gildor rose and took the king's hand. "You have my enduring gratitude, my liege."

Thranduil nodded and smiled. "Welcome to my family, Gildor Inglorion." He drew the Noldo into an embrace.

* * * *

Flowers were blooming on the rolling hillsides of Mirkwood. Summer was in full blossom, and the northern reaches of the forest were full of life. It was a perfect day for three couples to celebrate their bonds. Erestor walked arm in arm with Glorfindel toward the low rise of a hill near the river. Across the short distance, his beloved approached on his father's arm, and Celebrus flanked the king on the opposite side. The sight of Legolas nearly took his breath away; the Sinda glowed, his flaxen hair adorned with foliage of the season, his strong body swathed in shimmering pale blue silk, his perfect, bare feet softly treading the grass and leaving not even a print behind. He briefly looked at Glorfindel, who smiled at him, and he felt a tear of joy trail down his cheek.

Glorfindel looked from Erestor to his own mate; Thranduil had never been so beautiful, or so proud. His beloved's face was lit with happiness, his honey-colored mane crowned with mithril and flowers, his eyes shimmering with mirth and love, the Sinda's deep green robes brushed the soft grass beneath his bare feet. He was appeared every bit the king of this realm, one with his land, and Thranduil was his forever more.

Gildor walked alongside Glorfindel and Erestor, two good friends who had seen him through more trials than he cared to remember. This day, the three of them did not face danger, they faced something that could be even more frightening than battle: they faced a lifetime of love. He watched as Celebrus approached, adorned in pale blue and silver, with summer flowers crowing his fair hair. His beloved floated upon the grass, his gaze and smile lit with pure joy. What he had done to deserve this, he did not know, but he would embrace this gift of happiness with every ounce of his strength.

Thranduil walked arm in arm with two young elves who had brought him more joy than he imagined he could have ever felt. This was a day he had oft feared he would never see: the day his son and his charge embarked on lives of love. The day was triply blessed, for he had also found his heart's keeper and his own life would never be the same. How he had earned the love of the most remarkable elf in Middle-earth was beyond him, but long ago, he learned not to question happy fate. He smiled at Glorfindel, and his lover smiled at him in return. It was a perfect day.

Legolas looked at Erestor, his pitch-black hair woven with flowers, his lean, strong body bathed in dark blue silk, his stormy gray eyes fixed on Legolas' own. Erestor's beauty never ceased to take Legolas' breath away. A smile curved his lips. He gave himself this day to another. In truth, they had given themselves to one another long ago, but today they celebrated their bond with those that they loved. He smiled more broadly as they approached the mound where they would pledge their troth.

Celebrus' eyes were fixed on Gildor. At that moment, it was as if they were the only two elves in all the world. His heart raced and threatened to explode with joy. His beloved king gave him this day to the one who would love him for the rest of his life. The moment could not have been more perfect.

The meadow was ringed with their people; all had come to witness their prince and their king's charge pledge their hearts to their new friends. Both Erestor and Glorfindel had earned a place in the hearts of the citizens of Mirkwood. Both had fought bravely for them, both had brought happiness to a place that had long been without it. Elladan and Elrohir stood proudly by to celebrate this joyous day with their close friends. They watched as Thranduil gave Legolas to Erestor, then gave Celebrus to Gildor, and then Glorfindel took his place by the king's side. They listened as Erestor and Legolas, and Gildor and Celebrus pledged themselves to each other in the presence of their people and the Valar. Shadows passed over the meadow and they all looked up; it was Eagles.

Glorfindel smiled, "Welcome, my friends," he murmured.

"This is a good sign," Thranduil answered.

Glorfindel looked at his beloved. "Yes, it most certainly is." He then leaned in for a kiss.

Legolas wrapped his arms around Erestor's neck and laughed as he was hoisted into the air and swung in a large arc. "We are married," he said softly.

Erestor set his lover down and took his face in his hands. "We most certainly are," he answered, then pressed a kiss to his beloved's lips.

Gildor swept Celebrus into his arms, kissing his beloved soundly before murmuring, "My mate," against Celebrus' lips.

Celebrus smiled and felt a tear trickle down his cheek. "I love you, my husband," he whispered.

A cheer raised into the air as the citizens of Mirkwood showered them with flower petals. Glorfindel pulled Thranduil into the middle of the celebration and swept him into his arms, as the other newlyweds followed suit, accompanied by Elladan and Elrohir. That day, and well into the night, Mirkwood was a place of celebration and life, which was all the more precious to those who had fought so hard to defend it.

~Finis

Archivist's note: If you would like to read more about Celebrus, Larien has written a story called "The King's Treasure", about when he first came to Mirkwood. You can find it here.

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