Title & Chapter Number: An Unbidden Desire: Part 4/7
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Dimensions_of_Dhvana
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: With the exception of Menelhen, the characters and places in this story are the creation of Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Nope
Cast: Elrohir/Thranduil, Legolas/Elladan, Elrohir/Menelhen implied
Timeline: Pre LotR AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elladan's reaction to his brother's secret.
Notes: Sorry it's taken me so long--it's been about four months since I updated this story, but I've been lost in the world of RPS. Hope you've enjoyed! And as always, feedback would be most welcome!
Part 4
Elladan's body tensed as the King drew near, his senses becoming more alert as he searched for signs of the intimacy he knew Thranduil shared with his brother. His search, however, was in vain. Both Thranduil and Elrohir guarded every action, every look, every word, portraying only a respectful and somewhat distant courtesy towards each other. If he hadn't seen them by the waterfall, he would never have imagined the King of Mirkwood was bedding his twin.
Maybe he no longer was. Maybe Thranduil had taken his threat seriously and was leaving Elrohir alone.
From the little he knew of Thranduil, that was not a possibility, but still, maybe he would have abandoned his pursuits simply to keep peace between the families, as well as within his own. Thranduil would have to know that Legolas would never abide such a gross indecency with his lover's twin, and might have broken things off with Elrohir in order to stay on the tentative good terms that he had been enjoying with his son.
All these thoughts rushed through Elladan's head, trying to spark a hint of hope in his heart, but hope refused to rise.
As Thranduil took his leave of the group, he caught Elladan's eye, a slight smirk forming on the wintry face. Fury rushed through Elladan's body, his hands clenching into fists, his teeth gnashing together as he tried to keep from attacking the arrogant Elf.
This was why hope hadn't even attempted to rise in his heart. Hope knew better, and so did Elladan. He could not permit this to go on, not when his family's honor was at stake. Whatever spell Thranduil had cast over Elrohir would have to be broken. He would do whatever was necessary to free his brother from Thranduil, even if it meant taking Elrohir from Mirkwood against his will.
~*~*~*~
Menelhen's silver eyes did not fail to miss the exchange between King and Prince. Indeed, it was a wonder that Legolas and Elrohir hadn't noticed the hostility between the two Elves-the entire castle practically thrummed with the dissention between them.
So, it seemed Elladan had discovered the secret Elrohir and Thranduil shared. It wasn't too surprising that he did not care for their relationship, but Menelhen couldn't help but feel concerned as to what dark plans were passing behind the Prince's blue-violet eyes. If Elladan's stubborn streak and devotion to his family was anything like his brother's, he would be plotting some way to force Elrohir from Thranduil's arms. That separation was one Menelhen had no desire to see.
"Elladan!" Legolas laughed, bodily running into his lover, causing Elladan to yelp as he was forced out of his thoughts, stumbling into a wall.
"What do you think you're doing?" Elladan asked, rubbing his newly bruised right arm.
"Trying to get your attention. I was afraid you'd fallen asleep."
"I was just thinking," he said, shaking his head.
"About what?"
Menelhen caught the momentary troubled expression on the Prince's face before Elladan smiled, taking Legolas into his arms. "Nothing important."
"I'll let you get away with such an obvious lie for now, so long as you weren't thinking about me."
"I can promise I was not thinking about you," he answered, his voice deceptively innocent. "You don't require such deep thoughts."
The green eyes narrowed and Elladan found himself with a fresh bruise on his other arm.
"Hey!" he protested with a grin, rubbing left arm. "If you keep this up, I won't be able to lift up my arms for anything." Elladan gave Legolas a significant stare as he reemphasized, "Anything."
"And it would serve you right, too. But, as it would clearly do me more harm than you, I'll have to find some other way to chastise you," he said, reaching for his lover's lips.
Elrohir slid an arm around the Healer's waist. "What do you say, Menelhen? Should we leave these two alone since we're clearly not wanted?"
"We do seem to be giving the impression that we're invisible," Menelhen nodded, not missing the hint of panic in Elladan's eyes as they started to walk away.
"No no no," he said, grabbing onto his twin's arm. "I thought we were going to go exploring."
"I think the kind of exploring Legolas has in mind doesn't require either of us, just you," Elrohir said, and the golden Prince chuckled.
"Ever the perceptive one," he said, giving Elrohir a fond smile before turning to Elladan, "unlike your brother, who has to be pushed into a wall before I can get his attention."
"Careful, love, or you're going to find I'm not the only one getting acquainted with the castle's walls. And I will happily explore you later," he purred, nuzzling Legolas's neck, "right after we get back from exploring the caves."
Legolas grumbled something under his breath, then turned to the remaining two Elves. "Are you joining us?"
"Of course," Elrohir smiled. "Coming, Menelhen?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to miss the caves today. I need to take inventory, I still need to restock a long list of medicinal plants, and I need to finish a report for Thranduil. Maybe next time, but definitely not today."
"Menelhen," Elrohir said, and the Healer could hear the Prince turning on his favorite, and usually quite effective, pleading voice, "I'm sure the King won't mind if your report is a day late, and if you go with us now, we promise we'll help you restock tomorrow."
"The report is already a day late because I let you talk me into going swimming with you yesterday, and as for restocking, our little trip to find the plants I needed ended with the four of us passed out in the woods after drinking too much wine. Therefore, my answer to your offer of help and to your invitation is a resolute NO."
Elrohir looked up at him, his deep blue eyes filled with hurt and mock despair. "Menelhen, we're sorry. We never meant-"
The Healer laughed, pushing him away. "Don't even try it, Elrohir," he said, and the Prince grinned at him.
"All right, you win. Stay here and be miserable. We'll be sure to come back and tell you how much fun we had."
"You do that," he said, and watched as the happy trio made their way to the kitchen for supplies before he turned to follow Thranduil's footsteps.
Menelhen found the King with his warriors performing their usual morning practice drills. He'd been so caught up in being entertained by the three Princes that he had failed to attend the morning practices, yet another of his duties he'd allowed to be neglected. As he claimed his usual seat along the wall, he wondered for a moment if Thranduil had even noticed his absence.
Probably not.
Hopefully not.
So far, Thranduil had been generous in overlooking his Healer's lapses in duty, but Menelhen had no doubt that the King would not allow such lapses to continue for long.
The choice of weapon for the morning was hand-to-hand combat, making this a wise day for Menelhen to be present, as at least one Elf would inevitably be injured during such drills. Still, the risk of injury was worth it to the Elves on the field. There was no doubt in the mind of anyone who observed them that Thranduil's warriors were magnificent fighters, superior to most others who existed on Middle Earth. Celeborn himself would often send his Wardens to be trained by Thranduil for a year or two, and even Elrond would grudgingly admit that the Mirkwood Elves were fearsome in battle.
Menelhen himself was trained in only the basic arts of war, much to Thranduil's annoyance. The Healer argued he would never be near enough the fighting to make a difference. Thranduil felt every Elf, regardless of their occupation, should be able to defend himself or herself. It was a never-ending argument between them, and a subject Menelhen enjoyed needling the King with whenever possible.
The Healer winced as the cracking of bone whipped through the air and he quickly rushed to the fallen Elf's side. Thranduil, too, made his way to the injured warrior, the scowl on his face deepening.
"Clumsiness," he said, turning angry eyes on the Elf's uninjured sparring partner. "That is the only excuse for this. You will challenge me next, and we will see if we cannot sharpen your skills."
The Elf visibly paled, but his eyes remained steady as he nodded. Menelhen led his partner off the field and as the practice continued, quickly set the broken arm.
"You'll have to rest until that is healed," he said as he wrapped the damaged limb and placed it in a sling. "And while I know you'll be devastated to hear this, I'm afraid you will not be able to participate in the morning drills until I give you leave to return."
The Elf returned Menelhen's grin. "Thank you, Healer."
"You're welcome. Now go," he said, nodding towards the nearest exit. "Enjoy your momentary reprieve before the King finds a chore for you that requires only one arm."
"Yes, my Lord," he said, then made a dash for the castle.
Menelhen returned his attention to the practice, and sighed. The Elf's unlucky partner was lying on the ground with the breath knocked out of him while Thranduil stood over him, telling him what he did wrong, and what he could do to improve. But, as always, Thranduil ended his lecture by telling the Elf what he'd done right, easing some of the humiliation and rebuilding the Elf's confidence. He then helped his warrior off the ground and sent him off to find a new sparring partner.
After taking another look around the field, the King walked over to where Menelhen was sitting.
"My my my, and to what do we owe this honor? It is so gracious of you to take time out of your busy schedule to join us today, dear Healer."
Even if he'd been deaf, the silver-eyed Elf would not have been able to miss the icy underlining to the King's voice. He shrugged it off, as he usually did, facing the King with a brilliant smile. "My Lord, I didn't want you to start pining away for me, so I thought I'd grant you some small relief for your suffering and grace you with my presence. Seeing as how I've done that, I'll go now."
"SIT," Thranduil barked as Menelhen started to stand. "I know you have a purpose for tearing yourself away from my son and his guests. What is it?"
"'His' guests? My Lord, I was certain at least one of those Elves could be labeled as your guest."
"Would you care to argue technicalities for the rest of the day, or would you like to get to the point?"
Menelhen nodded, deciding to get to the point. "I see that Legolas's guest has been acting more hostile towards you than usual lately. He has discovered the truth of your relationship with your guest?"
"So it would seem," Thranduil said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Then may I advise caution, as he does not seem pleased with the revelation."
"No, he does not, but that is something he will have to work out on his own. I will not give up my Princeling."
"He will fight for Elrohir."
"Elrohir is an adult," Thranduil said, crossing his arms over his chest, "capable of making his own decisions. Even his brother will have to respect that."
"Elladan hates you. I do not quite understand why, but he does. They may be twins, but it is clear Elladan has always taken the lead in their lives, and he will try to lead Elrohir from you."
"He may have been the leader in the past, but Elrohir has his own strength now. If he truly wishes to be with me, he will stay."
"And you will not fight for him?" Menelhen asked, hoping to pry the King's true feelings from him, but was met with Thranduil's usual arrogance.
"Why should I?"
"My Lord," Menelhen sighed, shaking his head, "there are times when even I do not understand you, and I know you better than you know yourself. If you love him, fight for him."
"If he loves me, he should fight for me."
"They are twins, brothers, as close as any two Elves as I have ever met. It is never easy to go against one's blood, and for these two to fight, I fear the results might be devastating."
"Then Elladan will have to learn to accept me as his brother's-" Thranduil stopped short, unwilling to finish his sentence.
The Healer's eyes glinted impishly. "As his brother's-what was that, my Lord? I'm afraid I didn't quite hear you."
The great King shook his head. "Elladan will simply have to learn to accept me."
"But why? Because you're his brother's lover? Mate? Beloved?"
"Menelhen," Thranduil growled, a warning in his voice.
"Yes, Thranduil?" he asked, blinking innocently up at him. The King looked into his eyes, and chuckled, pressing a hand to the Healer's cheek.
"You insolent son of an Orc, remind me to feed you to the spiders."
"Yes, my Lord," he grinned, kissing Thranduil's palm.
"Now, where's the report you owe me?"
Menelhen stared blankly at him. "Report, my Lord?"
Thranduil sighed. "Just get it to me as soon as you can."
"As you wish, my Lord," he answered with a smirk.
~*~*~*~
Elrohir watched and waited, hiding in the shadows of the room, narrowed eyes following the movements of the King as Thranduil prepared for bed. It was a small miracle that Thranduil had yet to notice him-he must have been more exhausted than usual.
For a moment, Elrohir felt a stab of sympathy for the wintry King, wanting nothing more than to take Thranduil in his arms and hold him, using his love to ease the Elf into the peace of reverie. But he'd gone through too much trouble to simply let the King sleep. This opportunity would probably never come again, and he wanted to make sure they took advantage of it while they could.
The great King looked over the papers on his desk one last time, then slid the silver robe from his shoulders, setting it aside. As always, Elrohir's breath caught in his throat while he gazed upon the beauty that was Thranduil. The silk of his white-gold hair stood out in sharp contrast against the skin darkened by constant training beneath the sun. The training itself had honed the tall, lean body into a weapon on its own-each muscle sharply defined beneath a layer of smooth, supple skin. Just looking at Thranduil made the Prince want to fall on his knees and worship him, but it also made him so hard, Elrohir wanted nothing more than to have Thranduil on his knees before him.
The King slid between the satin sheets and sighed, rolling over onto his side and away from Elrohir. As his lover's breathing grew even, Elrohir rose from his hiding place and quietly undressed. Taking a vial of oil from the nightstand, he cautiously climbed into the bed behind Thranduil. Pouring a little of the oil onto his hand, he began to knead it into the King's buttocks.
A soft moan escaped Thranduil's lips, the glacial eyes slowly regaining focus.
"Shh. . ." Elrohir whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek as he slid an oiled finger across the King's puckered opening. "It's only me."
"I can see that," Thranduil said, his eyes widening at the heat that rushed through his body resulting from the Prince's touch. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you," he smiled.
"And your brother?"
"Fast asleep, and should remain so for hours. Menelhen and I slipped a sleeping draught into his wine at dinner. Legolas is currently speaking to neither of us, but it got Elladan out of the way."
Thranduil chuckled low in his throat, turning his head to get a better look at the Prince. "So you thought you'd take advantage of his forced rest and come in here to molest me during my reverie?"
"Precisely," Elrohir said, kissing the King's unusually warm lips at the same time as he slid a finger inside his lover.
Thranduil's body pushed against the unfamiliar intrusion, but Elrohir was determined. He continued to work his way inside the King, first one finger, than two, widening and easing the passage. Reaching for the Elf's prostate, he smiled as Thranduil gasped and shuddered beneath him.
"It is not often that I have you like this," he chuckled, nibbling on a pointed ear. "I like it."
"You're the only I let have me like this in a long time," Thranduil said softly, and Elrohir paused, caught by surprise.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"If I'd wanted you to stop, I would have stopped you before you reached the bed," he said, his voice again taking on the cold hauteur Thranduil was famous for, and Elrohir laughed.
"Yes, I suppose you would have. So you knew I was here?" he asked, licking the length of the lobe.
"I can always sense you, Princeling," he said, not failing to miss the Elf's flush of pleasure at his words, "but I was content to let you play your game."
"Even though it led us here?" Again, he brushed over the King's pleasure spot, Thranduil moaning in response.
"Yes," he gasped as the Prince continued to tease and torment him with waves of delight.
"Thank you," Elrohir whispered as he released Thranduil's ear and, removing his fingers, thrust into the King.
Thranduil's body clenched against the sudden penetration and Elrohir began nuzzling at his neck, running his hand soothingly over Thranduil's hip and down his thigh. Threading an arm around the King's leg, he lifted it to allow himself easier access, making the transition easier for both of them. He began slowly moving inside the King, pushing ever so gently until the tense body relaxed around him.
"Uhn," the King grunted as Elrohir's thrusts grew harder, and this time it was the Prince who tensed.
"Too much?"
"No-more!"
Elrohir nodded, moving faster, deeper, reaching for the place that would make this as pleasurable for Thranduil as it was for him. Only, he feared it wasn't working.
"You're doing beautifully," the King said as if sensing his lover's concern. "I will not break, Elrohir. You do not need to be quite so docile."
"Docile?" The Prince ceased all movements as he pondered Thranduil's words, and decided to interpret them as an insult. "Docile!"
He withdrew and pushed Thranduil onto his back. Before the King could say a word, Elrohir latched onto his mouth, kissing him fiercely.
Thranduil was so distracted by the tongue exploring him that he actually cried out as the Prince's cock pierced him again. From that moment on, he was completely undone. He'd lost all control over his Princeling, and was at Elrohir's mercy. Elrohir allowed him pleasure when he wished, but took pleasure for himself at all times. He stroked the King's throbbing shaft, but just enough to make Thranduil's body ache for more, all the while pounding into the King.
"Still wish to call me docile?" he grinned after Thranduil had taken to swearing at him with each breath.
Thranduil just glared at him.
"I'll take that as a 'no', and accept the implied apology," Elrohir laughed, and decided to end both their suffering. He grasped onto his lover's cock and fisted it in time with his movements into Thranduil's body, the King moaning with delight.
Elrohir brought the Elf to orgasm with a couple harsh strokes, loving the sight of Thranduil's face losing all hints of his glacial demeanor as he was lost in the waves of ecstasy. Knowing he was the one causing this was enough to push Elrohir over the edge, and he cried out his release as he filled the King with his liquid heat.
"By the gods," he gasped, falling to Thranduil's side, one arm thrown across the King's stomach, his head resting on a strong shoulder. "I cannot wait to do that again."
"Not until I get my revenge," Thranduil grumbled, entwining his fingers with those resting on his torso.
Elrohir chuckled, looking up towards the King. "Who said I would permit you revenge?"
An icy eyebrow arched in his direction. "You seem to be suffering some strange delusion that you are in command now."
"Oh, but I am," he said, reaching for the King's lips. "You're mine to do with as I please." Kissing Thranduil, he sighed, and settled back down against him. "As I am yours."
A gentle smile on his face, Thranduil kissed the ebony hair. "As you are mine," he said, finding he had no wish to argue with him. "As you are mine."
~*~*~*~
Elladan groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. Despite the fact that the moon was the only source of light, the room seemed too bright, and his head was pounding with a pain he couldn't quite remember the cause of.
"Elladan, are you all right?"
He focused his eyes in the direction of his beloved's voice. "Legolas? What happened?"
"Here, drink this."
Something cold and hard was pressed to his lips, and as Legolas tilted the mug forward, water splashed against his mouth. He parted his lips, and as his tongue was moistened, he realized he was desperately thirsty. He drank the entire mug, and then the next, and then the next.
"Okay, enough," he said, pushing himself into a fully sitting position. "What happened?"
Legolas's eyes narrowed. "Menelhen and your brother decided to play a little trick on you and slipped a sleeping powder into your wine last night."
"Why?" Elladan frowned, but it didn't take long for him to find the reason for their prank. Swearing viciously, he jumped out of the bed and immediately stumbled into a yet another wall as he discovered he wasn't fully in control of his body yet.
"Elladan, what do you think you're doing? I don't think you should get up yet."
"I have to stop them."
"Stop who?" Legolas demanded as he followed his crazed lover into the hall, but Elladan didn't answer.
He limped as fast as he could towards the King's bedroom, mentally yelling at himself for letting his guard down. It was his fault that his brother was being victimized by that monster. If he had been paying more attention, Elrohir would never have been allowed to fall into Thranduil's grasp. He should have known Menelhen would be on the King's side, and therefore was not to be trusted.
"Elladan!" Legolas grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt right outside the King's bedroom door. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm saving Elrohir," Elladan said and threw open the door.
Despite knowing what he would find there, both Elladan and Legolas froze at the sight of Elrohir and Thranduil's naked bodies thoroughly wrapped around each other, blue eyes and violet distant in reverie.
"By the gods," Legolas whispered. "My father. . . and your brother?"
"Yes," Elladan growled.
As if sensing his brother's growing rage, Elrohir frowned, stirring in his sleep. His arm tightened protectively over Thranduil, only serving to increase Elladan's fury.
Elladan stormed over to the bed and as he reached for his brother, Legolas grabbed him, pulling him away.
"What are you doing?" Elladan snarled.
"What are you doing?" Legolas hissed, genuinely puzzled by his lover's anger.
"Ending this." He wrenched his arm from Legolas's grasp and took hold of Elrohir, pulling him from the bed.
Both King and Prince were instantly jolted from their reverie.
"Elladan!" Elrohir shouted in protest, then grew pale as his mind registered the situation. "Elladan," he whispered.
"It's all right," he said, taking his twin in his arms. "I'm here now."
"Yes, I see that," Elrohir said, pushing him away. "What are you doing? Why are you here?"
"Yes, why?" Thranduil asked, slipping into his silver robe. "I don't recall giving you permission to enter my private chambers."
"I don't need permission," Elladan said, picking up Elrohir's clothes and shoving them at his brother, "not where he's concerned."
"Elladan, what are you talking about?" his twin asked, hopping into his leggings.
"Don't worry," he said, taking hold of his brother's hand and starting to pull him from the room, not caring that Elrohir wasn't dressed yet-he just wanted to get them out of that room. "I don't know how he's done this, but we'll find a way to cure you."
"Cure me from what?" Elrohir said, his voice growing cold as he yanked his hand away.
"From whatever hold it is he has over you."
"Who? Thranduil?" he asked, his voice wavering between laughter and anger.
"Yes, him," Elladan spat, turning his furious gaze on the Elf in question. The King arched an eyebrow in amusement, knowing his Princeling was not going to leave him, and wondering how far Elladan would take this before he realized he had lost.
"Thranduil has no hold over me, at least none that you're thinking of," Elrohir said, reaching for his brother. "I love him, Elladan."
"Don't say that!" his twin roared, causing Elrohir to jump back a step with fright. "Don't say that. Not him, Elrohir. You can't love him."
"Why not him? You and Legolas love each other. What's the difference?"
"The difference is that Legolas has a heart, unlike that. . . that thing," he grimaced, gesturing towards the King. "Legolas is capable of love. His father is not. He will never be able to love you back."
Elrohir looked his brother in the eyes. "But he does," he said, before facing Thranduil with a glorious smile on his face. "He loves me."
"Is this true?" Legolas asked softly, and his father turned to him. Upon meeting his son's eyes, he nodded.
"Yes."
Legolas gazed at the proud King, and slowly, his lips curled into a smile. "I'm glad. He will be good for you."
"But he will not be good for my brother," Elladan snarled, feeling betrayed not only by his twin, but by his lover as well. "Elrohir, we're leaving."
"I am not."
"Elrohir!"
"Elladan," his twin said, his voice filled with sorrow, "I know you mean well, and I love you for it, but I am staying. My heart belongs to Thranduil, and I will not leave his side."
Elladan's eyes narrowed. "You would choose him over me?"
"I don't want to make that choice, but you are forcing me to."
"Elrohir," he pleaded, "think of what you're doing."
"I don't need to. My place is here."
"If you do this, I warn you, we will no longer be brothers."
"Elladan!" Legolas snapped. "You don't mean that."
"Stay out of this," he growled, his gaze cold as he looked at his lover. "You've said enough for one night."
"Elladan," Elrohir said softly, "you're angry, upset, confused. I understand that, and therefore, I won't hold your words against you. I am staying, and if you still choose to leave, know I will always welcome you back, because you are my brother."
"Was your brother. We are no longer kin. Farewell, Elrohir. From this point on, you are dead to me."
Elrohir watched with disbelieving eyes as Elladan stormed out of the room, Legolas following close behind.
"I'll talk to him," the golden Prince said to the two Elves as he left,.
Thranduil turned to Elrohir, then rushed forward to catch the Prince as he collapsed.
"Elrohir!"
"He's gone," the young Elf said, his body trembling. "Elladan's gone."
"Legolas will talk some sense into him. It will be all right."
"No, you don't understand," he said, looking up at the King, his eyes having changed to a pale lavender, as if all the blue had been removed. "I can't feel him, I can't sense him. He's cut himself off from me entirely. Elladan is gone."
"I don't understand," the King said, shaking his head, for once feeling as if he had finally met a situation he had no control over.
"Our connection-he's severed our connection. Oh, gods," Elrohir sobbed, "what have I done. Elladan!"
Even as he cried out his brother's name, Elrohir's eyes eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness.
"Elrohir! Princeling!" Thranduil shouted, brushing the hair back from his beloved's head, pressing his lips to the ashen cheeks, but Elrohir didn't wake. Picking his lover up, Thranduil placed him gently on the bed, covering him with a blanket. Ice began to creep into his veins as he looked down on his Princeling, whose face was twisted with pain and despair. His blue eyes grew glacial as he lifted his gaze towards the door.
Brother or not, that insolent Elf was going to pay for harming his love.
Dressing quickly, he sent a guard for the Healer, and went in search of Elrohir's twin.
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