Title: Assumptions
Author: TICS
Rated: NC17
Genre: Slashy humor.
Elves who've won the TICS lottery: Legolas/Erestor/Glorfindel
Summary: Even in Middle Earth, assumption is the mother of all f***-ups.
Assumptions
Imladris wasn't everything it was cracked up to be.
Oh, it had its charms - in a frilly, lacy, fragile sort of way, Legolas supposed as
he dismounted and landed lightly on his feet just within the gates. Perched
atop a hill, the House of Elrond loomed before him filigreed with white
gazebos and archways, and speckled with climbing roses and ivy. Between
him and House of the Half-Elven, delicate bridges arched gracefully over a
river that trickled more than flowed. Even the tremendous waterfall that
splashed over the side of the mountain did so as if constrained, as if barely
daring to show its power. A subtle floral perfume carried on the breeze,
tickling at Legolas' nose. If serenity had a name, Legolas thought, it would be
Rivendell.
Even the Elves of Rivendell seemed fragile in their own way. As dark as
shadows, most of them, gliding here and there, dressed in robes of filmy
whites and golds. They barely disturbed the air with their movements.
Legolas didn't glide. Legolas didn't hold with daintily perfumed fauna. Legolas
didn't gesture gracefully. Legolas didn't dress in robes so sheer that one's
every hill and valley was clearly outlined under the diaphanous fabric.
Legolas was not overly fond of serenity, no matter what its name.
Deep in the Great Caverns of Mirkwood there were no sweetly blossoming
roses or attractively carved woodwork. No gently flowing rivers. No gardens of
lavender and lilac to lend the air their perfume.
In the Caverns of Mirkwood there was only one thing aplenty - stones. Both
the kind that formed the walls of rock and the kind that swung between
Legolas' legs. Big ones.
Legolas was a Wood Elf - an Elf's Elf - and if anyone dared suggest otherwise
they were apt to meet the business end of his very un-delicate fist. His people
were bold, brave, and brazen. The Elves of Thranduil didn't glide - they
marched.
He rolled his eyes, then resolutely marched across the bridges, heading
toward Elrond's House. Nodding to no one, he was aware that the eyes of the
Rivendell Elves were upon him as he passed. "What's the matter?" he thought
silently, and quashed the smirk that threatened his lips. "Have you never seen
a warrior before? Has Elrond kept you so hip-deep in frills and fripperies that
you have forgotten what strength and power look like?" He straightened his
broad shoulders, holding his head high as he walked, proud defiance in each
step. "Take a good, long look. Fill your eyes, then go back to your flower-
sniffing," he thought disdainfully.
"Welcome, Legolas Thranduilion, to Rivendell," Elrond Half-Elven said as
Legolas approached the white stone steps that led up into the House.
Legolas slapped a fist to his chest, inclining his head in salute. "My Lord, my
father sends me in answer to your summons of a Council. Decisions
regarding Mirkwood will rest with me in his stead."
Elrond frowned a moment. "Your father has declined to attend himself?"
"He regrets that he cannot add his voice to the Council, but assures you that I
speak for him as his proxy."
"He didn't come himself?" Elrond said again, restating the obvious. His voice
held a thread of disappointment. "It's been so long since last we……I thought
certainly that he would have come."
"Again, his apologies and my own, my Lord," Legolas answered, wondering
why in Mordor Elrond would give two figs that Thranduil had sent his son in
lieu of himself. "I can assure you, my Lord, that I have seen battle untold and
that my decisions will be sound. I know my father's mind as well as my own."
"Do you?" Elrond asked, soft, enigmatic smile gracing his handsome face.
"Perhaps, and then again, perhaps not. Still, my welcome stands, Legolas.
You will have his seat on the Council."
"And again you have my thanks."
****
"Haughty little bastard, isn't he?" Erestor murmured as he poured himself a
glass of rich, red wine.
"Erestor, he is hardly more than a strippling! He has barely seen twenty-five
hundred years. Leave him be," Elrond chided, sipping from his own fluted
crystal glass.
"Wargshit!" Glorfindel blustered, looking up from the sword he'd been
polishing. The three elves sat together before a roaring fire in Elrond's study,
as was their habit of the last several hundred years. "When I was his age, I
was already a Gondolion Captain up to my ass in balrogs!"
"It was ONE balrog, and unless there's something about yourself that you've
deemed not to tell me, Glorfindel, your ass had nothing to do with it," Erestor
chuckled.
"Valar! Erestor, don't put that mental image in my head!" Elrond laughed.
"Talk about a flaming erection……" he snorted.
"This isn't funny," Glorfindel growled. "You know damn well what I'm talking
about. That pup of Thranduil's is walking about Imladris as if he were the only
warrior on the face of Arda. As if the rest of us couldn't hold a candle to him.
As if the Elves of Rivendell were limp-wristed pantywaists who wouldn't know
which end of a horse to mount!"
"Oh, so now you're mounting horses as well as Balrogs?" Erestor guffawed.
"Or was it the Balrog who mounted you?"
"You, my dear Erestor, are purposely trying to goad me," Glorfindel growled
as a dangerous light flickered in his turquoise eyes. His lips curled in a feral
smile. "Do you not remember what happened the last time you teased me
unmercifully in this manner? I would be most pleased to refresh your
memory."
Erestor gulped, but couldn't help the blush that heated his fair cheeks. He
remembered it well, especially since it had only been the night before. He bit
his lush lower lip as his groin responded to the promise in Glorfindel's voice.
"Will you two please stop?" Elrond grumbled, adjusting himself under his thin,
clinging robe. "In case you haven't noticed Thranduil declined to attend this
council, so unless either of you are willing to bend over and flip up your robes
for me, I would suggest that you cease and desist immediately." He crossed
one leg over the other in a poor attempt to hide the unsightly tent that had
formed at his lap.
"Truly, Elrond, what will the Council think of young Legolas' snooty manner?
Can you imagine the Men? Those Gondorions will have him for breakfast if he
dares flaunt his warrior braids at them as he's been doing to us, and you know
damn well what would happen if we were to send him back to Thranduil
damaged. And the Dwarves!" Erestor cried, slapping a palm to his forehead.
"Great Eru, they'll shove their axe handles so far up his ass he'll spit wood for
a week!"
"Aye, Elrond. Erestor is correct. The Council will not hold with such an
immature pup's arrogance," Glorfindel agreed. "Even the Hobbits will be
kicking him in the shins. And I've seen those Hobbits' feet……great big, hairy
things they are, and more than capable of leaving a nice bruise."
"What do you suggest I do?" Elrond asked, lifting one brow. It hung arched
over his eye like a hairy caterpillar. "Mirkwood must have a voice on the
Council, and he is Thranduil's son."
"Give him to me. To us," Glorfindel quickly amended at the glower he received
from Erestor. "We'll show him the error of his ways."
"Aye, we'll teach him some manners before the morrow, Elrond," Erestor
nodded.
"Alright, I place him in your hands," Elrond said, lifting his glass for refill. "But,
make no mistake - he is to have a seat on the Council……make certain that he
can still sit in it come morning."
****
Twilight dimmed the sparkle of Rivendell as the falling darkness cast the
Imladris Elves into deeper shadows. On a balcony overlooking Elrond's
gardens, a head of shimmering gold caught the twinkling light of the stars in
its strands as Legolas leaned against the balustrade. He'd traded his jerkin
and leggings for a soft sleep shirt and……leggings. Leggings were Legolas'
stock in trade. He wore them with everything, including his formal robes of
state. He hated the feeling of his privates swinging free in the breeze,
preferring the tucked up security provided by a tight pair of leggings.
Near the bed in his room lay his twin fighting knives and his bow and quiver,
set neatly near the head of the bed in arm's reach for when he lay down and
reverie claimed him. Unfortunately for Legolas, he was no where near the
bed when the door to his room burst open and two hooded and robed figures
dashed in.
He put up a gallant fight, he did. At least, that was what he would tell his father
when - and if - he survived whatever treachery was afoot in Rivendell. In
reality, he barely had time to turn around before he was blindfolded, gagged
and bound, trussed up like a turkey on Yuletide.
Thusly subdued, he was half-carried, half-dragged from his room by his
attackers. He tried to keep track of their steps, but after several twists, turns,
and backtracking, up one flight of stairs and down another, he lost track.
Legolas had no idea where in Elrond's House they'd taken him, until a voice
whispered in his ear.
"Legolas Thranduilion, you ask a seat on the Council of Elrond. Only warriors
may sit in council. You wear the warrior's braids, proclaim yourself - loudly
and to all who will listen - that you are a warrior. Are you willing to prove
yourself such and earn your place in the Council circle?"
This was a test then. Legolas nearly allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief,
catching it in his chest before it could rush past his lips. His father had
mentioned nothing of such a test, nor had Elrond, but that meant little. If a test
were required of him then he would pass it, and pass it in spades.
HE was a Wood Elf. Let them do their worst.
"Aye," he said, standing straighter despite his bonds. "I fear nothing. I fear no
one. I am of the Wood Elves, and Thranduil's son."
Glorfindel looked at Erestor and rolled his eyes. "We shall see, Wood Elf. I will
remove your bonds now that I have your word that you will submit to the test."
Legolas blinked as the bright, flickering lights of the wall torches assailed his
formerly blindfolded eyes. Two faces swam into focus……the Slayer and the
Counselor. Glorfindel and Erestor, he remembered. One was tall and
formidable-looking and as blonde as Legolas himself, the other slighter but
no less intimidating, and as dark and as sultry as the night. Their eyes
glittered in the torchlight, like sapphires and onyx jewels.
"You will obey us, Legolas. No matter what we ask of you, you will obey
without hesitation. A warrior must always obey commands, no matter what his
personal views on the matter," Glorfindel said, his voice firm with authority.
Legolas nodded curtly. He knew that already. Every warrior knew that. If that
was the extent of the difficulty of this test, it would be over before the moon
rose full in the sky.
"Disrobe, Legolas," Erestor commanded, matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"Are you deaf or just a tad slow? Disrobe!" Erestor snapped, his dark sleek
brows knitting. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting.
Legolas looked back and forth between Erestor and Glorfindel, searching for
some sign that this was a poor attempt at humor. Two grim faces stared back
without the slightest hint of levity in their expressions. He swallowed hard then
discarded his sleep shirt. The pale skin of his broad shoulders and chest
glimmered in the firelight, his nipples perking at their sudden exposure to the
cool air.
"Unless you have some horrible skin condition, I believe those are leggings
you are wearing," Glorfindel said, joining Erestor in folding his arms across
his chest. "Lose them."
Unable to keep his face from flushing, Legolas averted his eyes and peeled
off his leggings. His Elfhood hung heavy between his legs, but his testes tried
to shrink up into the safe recesses of his body.
Glorfindel whistled softly between his teeth, earning himself a swift jab in the
ribs by Erestor's elbow.
Erestor scowled at Glorfindel, then walked away, returning shortly carrying
two steins full to the brim with water. "Hold your arms up over your head,
Legolas," he instructed.
When Legolas complied, stretching his arms up over his head, Erestor
placed a heavy stein in each hand.
"Do not, for whatever reason, spill a single, solitary drop, Legolas. If you do,
you will fail the test," Glorfindel said, his voice dripping with menace.
Legolas looked up at the mugs he held high over his head. He took a deep
breath and let it out slowly. He could do this. No matter what torture, what
pain, what horrible agony they were about to subject his naked body to he
would not spill a drop. Not one.
"Look at me, Legolas," Erestor said softly, drawing the Wood Elf's attention
from the steins he held. When Legolas' bright blue eyes turned toward him, he
slowly began to disrobe. One lace at a time, he loosened his robe, letting it fall
in a silken whisper to the floor at his bare feet.
Legolas' eyes widened. Perhaps what they had in mind for him was so awful
that Erestor wished to shed his clothing in order to avoid the bloodstains that
might result. A slight tremor ran across his shoulders, but the mugs remained
motionless in his hands. He brought his chin up and strengthened his resolve
not to falter. "I will not spill a drop, I will not spill a drop," he repeated in his
mind. His eyes slid over Erestor's svelte form, noticing in passing how well-put
together the Counselor was, considering his rather sedentary occupation.
Erestor's shoulders, while not as broad as his own, were still strongly
muscled, as was the rest of him. Not an ounce of fat seemed to find a home on
Erestor's frame, just long, lean muscle moving fluidly under pale, alabaster
skin. He was quite an eyeful as a matter of fact, and Legolas felt his cheeks
flush again as his Elfhood noticed Erestor's beauty.
"Now here," Glorfindel commanded, drawing Legolas' eyes reluctantly from
the dark Advisor. He repeated Erestor's movements, doffing his robe and
revealing his flesh to Legolas.
Legolas' eyes widened again as they traversed the sharp planes and ripped
muscles of Glorfindel's body. His was the body of a warrior, bulging with
muscle, each one sculpted as if from golden marble. Legolas' thighs quivered
as his Elfhood jumped up fully to rigid attention. He couldn't help it……not with
two of the beautiful Elves he'd ever seen flaunting their bodies in front of him.
Not even the fear of the pain they would inflict could send it back to sleep.
His chest hitched with a shaky breath, but still the steins of water remained
steady.
Glorfindel caught Erestor's eyes, and a slow smile spread across his face.
They approached Legolas in tandem, Erestor to his front, and Glorfindel to his
rear.
Legolas yipped as Glorfindel suddenly took two handfuls of Legolas' rear end
into his calloused palms. The yip grew into a long, drawn-out, half-strangled
groan as those hands spread his cheeks and a warm, wet tongue delved
between them.
"Not fair!" Legolas' mind screamed. "Torture I can handle. Pain is mother's
milk to me. But this……this is NOT FAIR!" Little did he know that it was about to
get much, much worse.
Erestor dropped to his knees before Legolas, running his hands down the
length of the Wood Elf's toned abdomen until they reached the nest of soft
golden curls that bedded his Elfhood.
"Oh," was all Legolas could manage to say when Erestor ran his tongue
slowly up the length of his rigid erection, from root to tip and back again. He
found himself beyond words when Erestor parted his rosebud lips and
swallowed him whole.
And yet the steins remained steady as rocks in his hands.
Legolas grit his teeth, battling to keep his arms held above his head and the
mugs he held from spilling a single drop. His groin was on fire, a whirling
maelstrom of lust that was only getting stronger, fueled by Erestor's hot mouth
on his Elfhood and Glorfindel's warm tongue in his ass. It took every ounce of
his self-control to keep himself from rocking back and forth between them, but
he managed - barely - to keep steady. And when his release boiled up from
his sac, he screamed with his pleasure……but never twitched a single muscle
in his arms.
The mugs remained as full as they were when Erestor first placed them in his
upheld hands.
As his heart rate slowed and the last of the ripples of ecstasy faded, Legolas'
mouth curled into a triumphant grin. "Ha! I told you I would past your test! I am
a warrior of Mirkwood. None are stronger. None are fiercer. None are more
stoic than I," he bragged smugly.
Erestor and Glorfindel laughed, both rising and moving to face Legolas.
"What? You failed the test, Elf of Mirkwood!" Erestor said, looking down his
nose at the Wood Elf, who still held the steins over his head.
"I did not! The steins are still full! I didn't spill a drop!" Legolas protested.
"No, you didn't spill the water," Glorfindel smiled, reaching over to wipe a
white droplet from the corner of Erestor's mouth, "But we never specified what
it was that you were forbidden to spill." He placed his finger in his own mouth,
licking it clean. "Seems to me that you spilled plenty."
"But……but……that isn't fair! That isn't right! You……I……the steins!" Legolas
protested, looking back and forth between Erestor and Glorfindel with a
sinking feeling in his gut. "You tricked me!"
"As would your enemies seek to trick you. You failed. You assumed that we
meant the water, when in fact it was your seed that we had in mind, Legolas.
You didn't ask. You assumed to know our minds. That mistake could cost you
your life, or the life of a comrade on the battlefield," Erestor lectured sternly.
"What say you?"
Legolas slowly lowered his arms, looking at the two mugs full of water. He
realized, however, grudgingly, that Erestor and Glorfindel were correct. He
had failed.
"I will leave at first light," he said softly, "and return to Mirkwood to confess my
failure to my father." Gone was the presumptuous Elf who had strode so
boldly through Imladris, and in his place was a humbled one; an elf who had
been shown the error of his ways. It was a lesson Legolas would not soon
forget.
"And by your willingness to admit your failing and forfeit your seat on the
Council, you have instead earned it. Remember, Legolas, that looks can be
as deceiving as words. Our elves may not look to be warriors in your eyes as
compared to your Mirkwood kin, but there are ways to fight a war that have
nothing to do with brawn and swords," Glorfindel smiled, patting Legolas on
the shoulder as Erestor relieved him of the steins. As the darker Elf moved
away, Glorfindel leaned in closely and whispered, "Feel not ashamed. I failed
the same test when Elrond and Thranduil administered to me upon my arrival
in Imladris."
Legolas' eyebrows shot up, and then he smiled. "Any chance of a retest?" he
asked, grinning a mischievous smile.
****
The Council of Elrond convened the following morning. Legolas took his
place as the representative of Mirkwood, and when the time came pledged
his bow in protection of the Halfling, in the company of a Wizard, Hobbits,
Men, and a Dwarf. He saw them not as lesser warriors but as equals, and as
their journey continued, as friends.
The End