Title & Chapter Number: An Unbidden Desire: Part 7/7
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/Thranduil/Menelhen, Elrohir/Menelhen implied
Timeline: Pre LotR AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elrohir and Thranduil act on their decision to make Menelhen theirs, but the path isn't as easy as it might seem.
Notes: Those lovely words, "The End". I was beginning to think this story would never see those two words. Thanks to all of you who've waited so long for the conclusion to this. Hope you've enjoyed, and as always, feedback would be most welcome!
Part 7
Menelhen leaned against the window, his arms crossed over his chest, and heaved a wistful sigh. On the field below lay Elladan and Elrohir, head to head, each twin's head lying on the other's shoulder.
From the way Elrohir's expression kept alternating between exasperated and adoring, and from the continuous frown on Elladan's face, it seemed the twins were still trying to work out the Thranduil issue. At least they were talking again.
"May the gods smile on you both," Menelhen said softly. The two needed each other so desperately, the consequences would have been dreadful if they had truly severed their relationship.
Elrohir suddenly laughed at something Elladan had said, the twin turning to chastely kiss his brother, and the Healer couldn't help but smile. Such a lovely sight, the two of them. His mind was tempted to wonder what it would be like to have both brothers, for their beauty to spread out before him, or even better, to be between them. A striking thought, but one he immediately chased away. Both twins belonged to Mirkwood, and he. . . well, he belonged to whoever would have him. Lately, that meant a different Elf every night, never the same one twice. There would be no point to it.
Sighing again, Menelhen turned around and jumped.
"Would you please make noise when you're going to enter my room uninvited!" he snapped, his hands clenching into fists.
"You're my Healer, this is my castle, if I choose not to make any noise, it's my privilege," Thranduil said, walking over to peer out the window. He looked on the twins, his eyes growing soft at the sight. "Beautiful, aren't they? A pity the other one is such a menace."
"I'm sure one is more than you can handle," Menelhen said sharply as he began leafing through pieces of parchment on his desk, hoping Thranduil would take the hint that he was busy and leave him alone.
"Between you and him, yes, I definitely have my hands full."
"Me, my Lord? I can assure you, you shall have no trouble from me. I am but your servant."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed. Usually, such a comment from his Healer would be said in a tone of amused sarcasm, but there was a bitterness to Menelhen's voice that he was unaccustomed to hearing. He didn't care for the change. He wanted his Healer back, the one who never took him seriously, who was a constant thorn in his side, who challenged and teased him till he wanted to kill him-or throw him onto the nearest bed.
"I am pleased to hear of your change in attitude," Thranduil said with an icy nonchalance. "I feared for a moment that I would have to argue with you when I requested to inspect your wound, but as you are going to be cooperative, I know I shall have nothing to worry about when I ask you to remove your robes."
The Healer's mouth opened to protest, but then he defiantly closed it. He knew he could run naked around the castle, and Thranduil would only stop him to ask if he'd finished his latest report. There was no reason not to strip for the King.
Carefully removing his gray Healer's robes, he tossed them to the bed and stood before the King in only his leggings.
"Raise your arm," Thranduil ordered, and Menelhen did so as the King knelt before him. The Elf Lord lightly traced over the angry red line that remained from the Orc's sword, then raised his blue eyes to meet Menelhen's. "Your first battle scar."
The Healer arched an eyebrow. "How thrilling."
"Oh, but it is," Thranduil said, his fingers moving over the newly healed skin. "You should be proud. You're a warrior now."
He snorted. "A mindless automaton obeying your every command without the will to think for myself. A reason to be proud indeed."
"You already obey my every command."
"But I still think for myself."
"Do you?" Thranduil said, his voice soft, menacing, as his hand moved along the Healer's stomach, not stopping once he'd reached the end of the scar. His fingers brushed over the Elf's navel, pausing to slowly circle the dip in Menelhen's body.
The dark-haired Elf didn't understand what the King was doing, but his body was finding it to be increasingly pleasant. He tried to back away and immediately ran into his desk. The King had him trapped. There was nowhere for him to go.
"Stop," he whispered.
Thranduil looked up at him, tilted his head thoughtfully, and smiled his infamously glacial smile. "No."
The strong, nimble fingers began to softly stroke the outline of Menelhen's sex through his leggings, the Healer's body flushing in response.
"No?" Menelhen gasped, and the King shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't want to."
This just increased Menelhen's confusion. Since when did the King want to?
"Why not?"
"Menelhen," Thranduil said, his voice slightly scolding, as if Menelhen should already know the answer to that question, and was being resolutely stubborn by not answering it himself.
"No," the Healer said, forcing a strength into his voice he wasn't sure he felt. "I'm not going to let you do this. You can't. What would he think?"
The King smirked at his Healer. "I have it on good authority that he would be quite encouraging."
"No."
"You keep saying no, my dear Menelhen, but your body seems to be disagreeing with you."
The Healer closed his eyes as the King's hand covered his hardness. "I may not be able to control my body, but I can control my mind and heart, and they refuse you."
"Do they?" he asked, amused at the Elf's attempt at concealing the truth.
Of course not, Menelhen thought. My mind and heart are yours as much as my body is, but I will not give them to you for a mere few minutes of pleasure. He swallowed past the lump his throat, and was barely able to croak out, "Yes."
"Foolish Healer," Thranduil said, unlacing the Elf's leggings. "Do you truly think that, after all this time, I will believe your lies?"
"I'm not lying."
"Of course you are," he said, studying the trembling body, the strained look on Menelhen's face, then began to pull the cloth down the Elf's legs, "and as much as your suffering becomes you, I would rather have you as you are meant to be."
"And how is that?" the Healer asked, his hands turning white as he grasped the edge of his desk.
"Willful," Thranduil said, flicking his tongue across the weeping tip of Menelhen's cock, the Elf whimpering in response. "Spirited. Defiant. A little too defiant, at times." The King lifted his head with a wry smile at his Healer. "But your insolence is more appealing than your restraint."
"If I am restraining myself, it is because you seem to have strayed from your path, and I am trying to save us both."
"Strayed, have I?" Thranduil chuckled, softly stroking the vein along the underside of the Healer's shaft. "I design my own path, Healer, and I have decided that, right now, my path leads to you."
"And what of Elrohir?"
"My Princeling," he smiled, brushing Menelhen's length with his lips. "My Princeling," he repeated, kissing the smooth skin, starting at the base until he neared the tip. "My Princeling will be disappointed that he missed this."
Before Menelhen could offer any more words of protest, he was surrounded by the King's mouth. He cried out, his hands moving to Thranduil's hair, but whether to draw him back, or push himself deeper, he didn't know. It didn't matter-even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have stopped Thranduil.
The King's cool fingers wrapped around his hips as the Elf Lord's searing lips burned him to his very bones. Thranduil's mouth was a thousand times more intense than he'd ever imagined-and he'd spent many hours imagining it. Menelhen shouldn't have been surprised that the King of Mirkwood knew what he was doing, but that he'd be so good at it. . . He himself was known for having something of a talented mouth, but the power with which Thranduil drew on him, combined with the subtle caresses of his tongue, were quickly the undoing of him.
Fire burst in his veins and poured himself into Thranduil's mouth, the King swallowing every drop. He stood there, gasping, as Thranduil licked him clean and gently put him back into his leggings, tying up the laces when he was finished.
The regal Elf rose to his feet, satisfied with Menelhen's reaction, and moved to kiss the Healer. Menelhen pushed him away, his face flashing with anger.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he demanded, and the King's blue eyes grew frosty.
"Are you still trying to deny this?"
"YES!" Menelhen shouted. "I betrayed you once with him, and now I've betrayed him once with you! Leave me be!"
Thranduil arched an eyebrow at him. "You think this is a betrayal? You stupid, stubborn Elf! Did you not hear me? Were you not listening?"
"Were you talking?" he snarled. "Your mouth was quite busy, but not with speech."
The King growled low in his throat and grabbed onto Menelhen's wrist with one hand, picking up some spare bandages from the desk with another. "Your gratitude leaves something to be desired, Healer."
"Gratitude? For you taking advantage of me in a moment of weakness? If that's all you want, then THANK YOU!"
The King's growling deepened, rumbling throughout the room as he tossed the Healer onto the bed. Straddling the struggling Elf and sitting with the immobility of a mountain upon his chest, he lashed one wrist to one bedpost with a roll of bandages, then did the same with the other.
"Damnit, Thranduil, let me go!" Menelhen yelled, trying to wrench his hands free from their bonds, but it seemed that tying Elves to their beds was another talent of Thranduil's that he was doomed to discover that day.
"Not until you think about what you've done," the King said smugly, rolling off the bed.
"What I've done???!!!"
Thranduil paused in the doorway, admiring how Menelhen's outrage made the silver of his eyes shine even brighter. "I shall be back to check on you later. I suggest you compose an eloquent apology before then."
"THRANDUIL!!!"
The King closed the door behind him, once more thankful that the castle had such thick wooden doors, and hummed softly to himself as he walked down the hall to his study.
~*~*~*~
Elrohir was frowning as he approached Thranduil's room-their room, he amended, a smile flickering across his face as it always did at the thought. But then the frown returned. He'd wanted to gather Menelhen and Thranduil together for a talk, but he hadn't been able to find the Healer all day. None of the guards had seen him since the morning, and he was beginning to fear the worst. If Menelhen had left because they'd waited too long, he'd never forgive himself.
"Evening, beloved," he said, pausing to give Thranduil a kiss before slumping in the chair opposite him.
"Why so glum?" Thranduil asked, glancing up from the reports he was reviewing.
"I was hoping we could have that discussion with Menelhen today, but I haven't been able to find him. You don't suppose he's run off, do you?"
The King chuckled softly to himself, a smug smile curling his lips. "I don't think that's likely, my love."
Elrohir's eyes narrowed. His King was up to something, and he had the oddest feeling he didn't want to know what. "Thranduil, have you seen Menelhen today?"
"I came across him earlier."
"And how did he seem?"
"Ungrateful."
An eyebrow arched. "Ungrateful?"
"Mm-hmm. . . I mentioned our offer to him, and he rejected it."
The blue-violet eyes widened with surprise. Menelhen had rejected them? But that didn't seem possible. The Menelhen he knew would have jumped at the chance to share their bed, and their love. Maybe he'd been wrong about the Healer all along. Unless. . . "Thranduil, how, exactly, did you word our offer?"
"I was giving him a demonstration at the time, and he was extremely upset by it."
"Let me guess, you sucked him dry and never told him the reason for it?"
"I shouldn't have to tell him. He should have known."
Elrohir sighed, rolling his eyes. "How is it you can manage to delicately negotiate a peace between Elves, Humans, and Dwarves, but are so clumsy when it comes to personal matters?"
"Because they are personal, and they aren't as difficult as negotiating peace between three races."
"That's where you're wrong. Personal matters are even more difficult. If he's left because of you-"
"Don't worry, my Princeling," he said, that smug gleam returning to his eyes, "I can assure you that Menelhen hasn't gone anywhere."
Elrohir's heart grew cold as his blood began to rise and he jumped to his feet. "Thranduil, what have you done to him?"
"I've done nothing to him," Thranduil said, raising his gaze from the papers in front of him. "He's safely tied to his bed until such time as I deem him worthy of being released."
The Prince of Rivendell blinked at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Did you say he's tied to his bed?"
"Yes, I did."
"Thranduil! How could you do that to him? How long has he been there? Are you truly so mad as to think that this was a solution? I swear to you now, if he leaves, I'm going with him!"
Elrohir stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Thranduil sighed, setting aside the reports as he rose to his feet. It seemed his duties as King would have to wait till morning, he thought as he followed his Princeling out the door.
~*~*~*~
"Menelhen?" he called, throwing open the door to the Healer's room.
"Elrohir! Oh, thank the gods! Release me, please!
The raven-haired Prince ran to the bedroom and paused in the doorway at the Elf lying bare-chested on the bed, his hands still secured to the bedposts. He tilted his head to the side, trying not to smile. Menelhen looked so forlorn, and so desperate, he couldn't keep his blood from rushing directly between his legs.
The Healer took one look at the Prince's bright eyes and groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. "Not you, too?"
"Don't worry," he said, moving to Menelhen's side to begin untying the bandages, "I have no intention of holding you hostage, or ravishing you while you're helpless to stop me. I wouldn't mind, but I think you've endured enough for one day."
"How very considerate of you," he grumbled, rubbing his newly released wrists. "I'm not going to be able to use my hands for a month thanks to that inconsiderate, arrogant, half-witted son of an Orc."
"He only did it because he cares."
"He did it because he's a selfish bastard."
"That, too," Elrohir smiled, sitting on the bed, his arms around his legs. "Did he happen to mention why else he did it?"
Menelhen stared resolutely down at the mattress, wanting to hide from Elrohir the horrible truth of his guilt as long as possible. "There was no reason," he said, and began to climb off the bed.
Elrohir quickly grabbed his arm and pushed him back onto the mattress. "Actually, he had a very good reason for it. His methods of communication leave something to be desired, but his heart was in the right place."
"His heart?" Menelhen scoffed. "His heart has nothing to do with this."
"Actually, his heart has everything to do with this. Both our hearts," Elrohir said softly, lying down next to the Healer. Leaning on one arm, he lifted up the lock of silver hair and drew it through his fingers. "We love you, Menelhen, and we don't like to see you hurting, not when we can do something to ease that hurt."
"There's nothing you can do," the Healer said, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"Yes, there is," Elrohir smiled, and leaned over to kiss the unhappy Elf.
Menelhen's eyes widened, then closed as he gave himself over to the control of the Prince's lips. But he quickly remembered himself, and pushed Elrohir away, leaping from the bed before the Prince could stop him. "No, not again. I can't be your toy. I refuse to be part of whatever twisted game it is you two are playing. I might have expected something like this from him, but not from you. Elrohir, how can you be this cruel?"
"Menelhen!" he protested, his blue-violet eyes mirroring the pain glowing in the silver eyes of the Healer. "You are not a toy, there is no game! We want you, and that's the truth."
"But for how long?" Menelhen protested, backing away from the bed. "You may want me now, but I know how much you love each other. Whatever you think you may feel for me will never equal what the two of you have. You may want me now to soothe my hurt, but it can't last. It won't last, and I am not going to allow it."
"Are you sure?" a voice as deep as the rumble of an avalanche whispered in his ear, and he reacted with the same result. His body trembled and his world became unbalanced, an arm reaching around his waist to steady him.
Damn Thranduil, Menelhen thought with a glare. The blasted Elf knew how his very presence affected him. As much as he wanted to struggle, he knew there would be no point to it. He'd waited too long for Thranduil's touch to just toss this aside now.
The King leaned into the Healer, his hand pressed just below the Elf's navel.
"The things you will and will not allow are not entirely under your control," Thranduil said, his lips brushing the pointed lobe.
Elrohir smiled as he rose from the bed and walked over to the two Elves. Placing his hand over the King's, he softly pressed his lips the Healer and slid their fingers down between Menelhen's legs.
"But we, Thranduil and I, are under your control," Elrohir said as their fingers massaged the Elf's growing hardness. "Your suffering is our suffering. Your pleasure is our pleasure. There is no reason for you to be alone, Menelhen, not when the two of us would be with you. What my love here failed to mention while he was enjoying your company earlier-" he sent a reprimanding glare lined with adoration in Thranduil's direction "-is that we would greatly appreciate it if you would join us whenever you wished. There is to be no pressure on our part-well, a little pressure," he amended with a smile, lightly pinching the shaft in his hand and causing Menelhen to whimper, "but know you will be welcome whenever you choose to share your company."
The Healer, despite his labored breathing and the obvious pleasure of his body, still continued to shake his head in denial. Physical acquiescence was one thing, but what about their hearts? "Why would you want me, when you have each other?"
"Because you're beautiful," Thranduil said, nuzzling the Elf's dark hair, "and desirable," he shifted his hand so he was cupping the Healer's balls, "and troublesome," he squeezed the sensitive flesh in his hand, "and rebellious," he nibbled on the pale neck, then sucked on it till he had marked the Healer as his own. Menelhen moaned at the pleasure he received from the bruising of his skin by the King's mouth, causing Thranduil to chuckle. "And passionate," he ended with a grin.
"But most importantly," Elrohir said, holding the silver gaze, "because we love you. Which I'm certain my Lord intended to mention, if he hadn't been so distracted by your charms."
"Is that true?" Menelhen asked, craning his neck to try and meet the wintry blue gaze. "Were you planning on mentioning that?"
"I'm surprised you even needed to ask," Thranduil said, his voice mocking. "You've been teasing my affections since the day you arrived here."
"Yes, but I never expected my teasing to have any results."
"And if you had known otherwise?"
The Healer gave the King a wicked smile. "I would have done more than tease."
Thranduil laughed, the sound echoing deep in his chest as he pressed his lips to the Healer's hair. "Between the two of you, I shall never lack for entertainment, or frustrations."
"But that's why you need us both," Elrohir grinned, reaching a hand around Thranduil's neck. "To ease your many frustrations."
Menelhen watched as the King plundered the Prince's mouth, once more feeling he was doomed to be the observer forever, when their hands quickened upon him. He gasped, his body pulsing between the two Elves.
"Which one of us do you want first?" Thranduil whispered in his ear. "You've felt what it's like to have Elrohir inside of you. Do you want to feel him again, to feel that sleek, smooth cock between your cheeks? Or would you like to be the one to take my little Princeling, to bend him over the bed and take him hard till he's begging you never to stop?"
"Damnit, Thranduil," Elrohir growled, his eyes darkening to a deep violet with lust. "Stop with this teasing!"
"Hush, Princeling," the King said with a roguish grin. "This is Menelhen's choice. How do you want us, Healer? The decision is yours, but if it would make things any easier," he dipped his tongue inside Menelhen's ear, causing the Elf to shudder with delight, "you should know how often I've dreamt of burying myself inside of you. I'll bet you scream when you find your release. Let me make you scream, Healer."
"Enough!" Menelhen snarled between clenched teeth. "Enough-you win, you damnable King! Take me as you want to take me. Take me as you know I want to be taken!"
"That I shall," Thranduil said, exchanging wolfish grins with Elrohir as the Prince led them to the bed.
Elrohir climbed backwards onto the mattress and pulled Menelhen up after him so that the Healer was kneeling between his legs. The Prince reached up to press his hand to the Elf's cheek, brushing his thumb across the silken eyelashes. Menelhen was warmed by the adoration in the blue-violet eyes, and felt his body singing with Elrohir's touch, wanting again to feel that touch over his entire body.
"You are overdressed, my Lord," he said, and claiming the Prince's mouth, unlaced Elrohir's leggings and pulled them down the lean, long limbs. The Prince sighed as his arousal was released into the air, and the Healer smiled through their kiss. Abandoning Elrohir's mouth, he trailed his hands over the trembling torso till he reached the Elf's weeping cock.
His silver gaze holding Elrohir's, he took the Prince between his lips. The Elf beneath him began to moan with each caress of his tongue, his hands finding their way to the long brown hair, the single silver lock mingling with the darker strands.
"Beautiful," Thranduil whispered, his voice rough with desire.
Menelhen's eyes widened as the bed sank behind him and a hand reached between his legs to massage the tightening sacs.
"Don't stop, my Healer," Thranduil said and Menelhen obeyed, continuing to slide his mouth over Elrohir's length even as his own leggings were pushed over his hips and down his thighs. He closed his eyes as an oil slicked finger traced the part in his backside, finding its way to his puckered entrance.
When the King ceased to move any further, Menelhen pushed back against him, earning a pleased chuckle from the Elf Lord.
"There's nothing I enjoy more than an eager Elf, isn't that correct, Princeling?"
"If you don't stop distracting him, you'll never know again," Elrohir growled playfully at his beloved. "You really should see him from this angle. He's positively enchanting."
"I'm sure I will, soon," the King said, licking the Healer's spine, causing Menelhen to arch his back with pleasure. "But there is something else I want to do first."
Thranduil pressed his finger into the Healer. A purr emitted from Menelhen's throat at the pleasing sensation and Elrohir cried out at the vibrations running the member in the Healer's mouth.
"Whatever you're doing, don't stop! He likes that exceedingly well."
"I'm sure he does," the King chuckled, and inserted a second finger.
By now, Menelhen wasn't sure which act he was enjoying more-the feel of Thranduil reaching inside of him, or the taste of Elrohir in his mouth. He relaxed his throat, drawing in the Elf as deep as he could, and the Prince mewled with ecstasy.
"I love it when he makes that sound," Thranduil said, nibbling on the Healer's shoulder blade as he moved in a third finger, stretching the Elf and brushing across his pleasure spot.
"Oh, gods," Elrohir gasped as Menelhen's resulting pleasure thrummed across his cock. "Thranduil, stop torturing us! I will not last much longer."
"Neither will I," Thranduil said, placing the tip of his erection at Menelhen's entrance, then pushed inside with one smooth thrust.
Menelhen released the Prince, raising his head to gasp at the King's invasion. There was no amount of preparation possible for magnitude of the Lord of Mirkwood. Elrohir quickly sat up and soothed Menelhen with kisses as he glanced back at the King.
"Move, love," he commanded before drawing on the Healer's mouth, urging the other Elf's tongue to explore him.
Completely absorbed by Elrohir's kiss, Menelhen didn't even realize the pressure inside of him had eased until Thranduil again brushed over his prostate. His eyes widened and he moaned into the Prince's mouth. Laughing softly, Elrohir released him and lay back down. Arching an eyebrow, he glanced down towards his waiting erection and Menelhen chuckled.
"Demanding, aren't you?" he said, resuming his former position, matching his mouth to Thranduil's rhythm inside of him.
"You have yet to experience just how demanding he is," Thranduil grinned, looking lovingly at the Rivendell Prince.
"And now, between the two of you, maybe I'll finally have those demands met," Elrohir teased, his eyes twinkling at the resulting scowl on Thranduil's face.
"Wretched whelp. I should take my Healer and leave you to your own devices."
"`Your' Healer? I believe I have first claim on him."
"What a strange delusion you're suffering from, my dear Princeling. He's been in Mirkwood longer than you have."
"Yes, but I had him first."
"Only through trickery."
Menelhen rolled his eyes, knowing an argument like this could last throughout the night. He clenched his muscles around Thranduil and sucked particularly hard on the Prince's cock, causing them both to cry out in pleasure.
"I fear he's getting impatient with our bickering," Elrohir said, and the King nodded in agreement.
"Let's end this now, before he abandons us both."
Thranduil thrust deeply into the Healer, reaching for his prostate every time, the keening sounds emitting from his throat quickly bringing Elrohir over the edge. Menelhen swallowed every drop of the Prince's essence till the Elf was left gasping on the bed with nothing left to give. Even though he was seemingly exhausted by his release, the Healer was surprised when Elrohir leaned forward to kiss him, a hand wrapping firmly around his Elfhood.
Menelhen groaned into Elrohir's mouth as the combined friction inside and out began to overwhelm him. The pressure of release built up until he felt as if he were going to explode. Elrohir's hand tightened on his cock, Thranduil gave a final hard thrust, and waves of fire washed through his body. The King's heat filled him, Thranduil crying out his name as he came, the sound causing Menelhen more pleasure than anything else that day.
The three Elves collapsed onto the bed, bodies twitching and panting with exertion, a warm glow of contentment surrounding them. Elrohir reached over to take Thranduil's hand in his, their arms resting across Menelhen's waist. Thranduil's thumb lightly caressed the Prince's skin as they stared, somewhat dazed, at the ceiling.
"We really should have done this sooner," Elrohir grinned, then leaned over and kissed Menelhen's cheek. "Thank you."
The Healer blushed, amused and embarrassed by the Prince's response. "No need to thank me, it wasn't my doing."
"Do not seek to be modest," Thranduil said, placing his free hand possessively on Menelhen's thigh. "My Princeling is right. We should have done this sooner."
"But I'm ready to start making up for lost time if you are," Elrohir grinned, and the Healer couldn't suppress a groan.
"Already?"
"I warned you he was demanding," the King chuckled.
"This time, however," Elrohir said softly, and Menelhen turned to meet his eyes, "I want to feel you inside of me."
Menelhen's heart skipped a beat, his cock waking at the thought of being buried inside the Prince. Not missing his reaction, Elrohir gave a satisfied smile.
"My dear Menelhen, you are a wonder," he chuckled, and kissed the Healer.
~*~*~*~
A decade passed with the King, the Prince, and the Healer living peacefully in Mirkwood. The three were rarely to be found far from each other's sight. Elrohir couldn't even find the will to tear himself away long enough for a visit home, forcing his twin to come to him, which he did quite often, and always bringing Legolas with him. Elrohir had never been happier.
One of his lovers, however, could not say the same.
Menelhen would never say anything was lacking in their relationship-indeed, when he was lying in their arms, he felt that life was perfect. They were always loving and affection with him, including him in everything-even their arguments, which could be both amusing and frustrating-but still, a shadow remained on his heart. He just had to look at them to know that, despite what the three of them shared, he was still separate from what Elrohir and Thranduil had together.
Deciding that space was needed for him to shed light on this shadow, one summer he journeyed with Legolas and Elladan back to Rivendell. The Lord of Imladris had extended several invitations to him in the interest of an exchange of knowledge between two Healers, and he finally agreed to accept.
He was only to be gone for six months, but seven passed, and then eight, and at the end of a year, he knew it was time to tell the Lords of Mirkwood that he would not return.
Menelhen stared at the paper in front of him, finding it difficult to know where to start.
"They will understand, my love," came the gentle voice behind him, strong arms draping across his shoulders, a chin resting on his head.
"Elrohir will understand-he knows I haven't been entirely happy. Thranduil will be furious, and will most likely accuse you of stealing me as revenge for him taking one of Imladris' most treasured sons."
"Which isn't true," the Elf was quick to assure him, and Menelhen smiled up at his lover.
"I know. I am as sure in your love for me as I am in my love for you. It's just that. . . I will miss them."
"You will always be free to visit, and they will be welcome here."
The Healer snorted. "I cannot picture Thranduil paying a casual visit to Rivendell," he said, and the other Elf laughed in agreement.
"No, perhaps not. Still, if he loves you as you say he does, he will come to accept your decision."
"I can only hope," Menelhen sighed, and with a determined gleam in his eyes, picked up the quill and began writing.
~*~*~*~
Elrohir settled down in the chair across from Thranduil, propping his feet up on the King's knees as he unfolded the parchment he'd received that day from Menelhen. Thranduil arched an eyebrow at the feet on his lap, then shook his head and began absently rubbing his lover's soles as he read the letter from Celeborn in his hand. Elrohir's body stiffened suddenly, and Thranduil glanced up to see a tear sliding down the pale cheek.
"Princeling, is something wrong?"
Elrohir forced a smile, shaking his head. "No, not exactly. It seems we have lost our Healer."
The King's eyes darkened. "Explain."
"Menelhen sends word that he will not be returning to Mirkwood. He writes to say he has found a home and love in Imladris, and has decided to remain there. He's training another to take his place here as Healer, but it will be a few months before he is ready."
"And the Elf who has taken advantage of our Healer's homesick heart and seduced him away from us-who is he?"
Elrohir's eyes rose from the paper to meet those of his beloved. "My father."
Quickly removing his feet from the King's lap, Elrohir calmly waited as the King stormed around the room, shouting his fury and his disbelief with such vehemence that the walls seemed to shake. Indeed, the news had surprised him as well, but if Menelhen was happy, he didn't see any need for Thranduil to be upset.
And the King probably wouldn't have been, if Menelhen had fallen in love with any Elf other than his father.
Knowing Elrond as he did, the Lord of Imladris had probably been laughing as he imagined Thranduil's reaction. However, Elrohir also knew that his father would never use an Elf for his own amusement, and that their love for each other must be true.
He was going to miss Menelhen, but he was glad both the Healer and his father had found happiness together.
Sensing that Thranduil's rage was beginning to ease, he stood up and wrapped his arms around his beloved, holding the trembling King. "Come, my Lord. It is for the best. We may have loved him, but he knew that the love we felt for each other was greater. It is right for him to find a love like that for himself." Elrohir looked up at his King, a smile quirking his lips. "Unless, of course, your reaction stems from the fact that you do love him more than you love me, and if that's true, I should warn you now, you'll be losing two Elves to Imladris instead of one."
"Don't even consider it, Princeling," Thranduil growled, grabbing him and kissing him fiercely. "I may love him, and I will miss him, but you are my life. As long as I have you, I don't need any others."
Much better, Elrohir thought, his mouth--his blood burning from Thranduil's kiss, but his King still needed a reminder.
"I'm tempted to believe you," the Prince said with a mournful sigh, "but until I have proof, I will always be convinced that you love him more."
Thranduil looked him, at the pitiful expression on Elrohir's face, then started to laugh, drawing him close and holding him tight. "You're usually more subtle than this, Princeling."
"I know," Elrohir grinned, "but when you're being impossible, it helps to be a bit more direct."
"Only you would dare," Thranduil said, his voice heavy with emotion, "and I love you for it."
The Prince's eyes widened as he felt the proof of Thranduil's love rubbing against his thigh, and knew his distraction had succeeded. "There's what I was looking for," he chuckled, caressing the King's groin and causing him to shudder. "You do love me after all."
"Just because Menelhen's gone," Thranduil growled, "doesn't mean you have to be twice as annoying."
"Of course it does," he answered with sparkling eyes. "Now that Menelhen's gone, I'll have to entertain myself somehow."
"I can think of a few ways more productive than irritating me," the Lord of Mirkwood said, his eyes flashing with desire, and Elrohir smirked at him.
"I was rather hoping you would," he said, wrapping his arms around the King and kissing him as they stumbled to the bed. Elrohir knew they would grieve for the loss of Menelhen, but he also knew they loved each other too well to grieve for long.
As he lay that night with Thranduil in his arms, he couldn't help smiling down at the glacial King as he stroked the pale gold hair.
"Stop that," Thranduil grumbled.
"Stop what?"
"Smiling."
"Why?" he asked, his smile growing broader.
"Because your smile always makes me want to smile, and it isn't proper for a King to wander around grinning like an idiot."
"Oh, forgive me, my Lord. I'll stop now," Elrohir said, sucking on his lips to try and hide his smile. Thranduil grimaced, looking away from the Prince.
"That's even worse than if you were actually smiling, because you look so ridiculous doing it."
Elrohir laughed, kissing the King's forehead. "Would you prefer it if I walked around scowling all the time like you?"
"No, because then I would miss your smiles."
"You are hopeless, my Lord," Elrohir said, smiling down at the King with all his might. "I'm afraid the only way for you to endure is to accept that you are, indeed, happy, and I'll somehow have to survive with the knowledge that I'm responsible for your happiness."
"A difficult sacrifice for us both, I'm sure," Thranduil chuckled, and looked up at Elrohir, his eyes shining like the blue glory of the sky on a clear summer's day, his smile blazing with the heat of the sun. "But if it means being together, it is a sacrifice I hope we are both willing to make."
"It is, my love," Elrohir said, bending his head for a kiss, then paused. "Though, we may have to work on your smile a bit. It looks so unusual on your face, you may frighten small children if you try smiling at them."
Thranduil growled deep in his throat and pounced on his laughing lover. The two spent many hours that night, and throughout the rest of their eternity, proving their happiness again and again as they celebrated the love which had grown unbidden between them, but which they could never imagine living without.
THE END
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