Title & Chapter Number: Farewells and New Beginnings 4/17
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website:
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien with the exception of an original or two, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings, incest, and explicit sexual content - not to mention a boatload of angst. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.
Betas: Alex
Cast: Legolas/Thranduil, Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Erestor, Thranduil/Glorfindel
Timeline: TA
Spoilers: None
Summary: The time of the Elves is over, and the last remaining Elves sail for the west.
Notes: This story came out of a little one I wrote as a companion to the Rock Stars series. The plot bunny, however, refuses to leave, so here I am, exercising my demons. This is inspired by the beautiful Elves that Professor Tolkien created much to our joy and amazement; and by the beautiful, sometimes sad, and heartrending music of U2 that I was listening to when I wrote it. Thanks so much to everyone who gave me encouragement, Alex (my wonderful beta reader on this and the Rock Stars series), Dawn, Larian (my wonderful beta reader on the Tale of Two Brothers series), Hawk, and L.K., (and yes, I cried like a baby when I wrote it…)
October 20th, 120, Fourth Age, Eryn Lasgalen
Thranduil sat astride his black stallion, watching a family of eagles circling over a large meadow. There had been sadness at the thought of leaving his beloved Greenwood, just when it became free from darkness. He had often thought of himself as the guardian of this great forest, and he had been determined to see it free from the corruption that sundered it before he left Middle Earth. Now it appeared that he never would leave, that this wood would be his home until the end of his days. That thought, in and of itself, was not such a bad one; he loved the wood, it was part of him. The thought that caused him so much sadness was that he would spend the rest of his days here without those of his own kind, and without his son. He would roam Middle Earth alone until his heart gave up the will to live. He feared that would be a very long time, for he knew the pain and despair he had already lived through, and he knew his heart was strong, like his father's. He could barely take the thought of living without the one he loved, but that was exactly what he would do; the choice was not his to make.
He had been plagued by visions for several nights, until he finally struck a bargain with Manwë. It was agreed that Legolas would sail into the west, arrive safely upon Valinor and spend the rest of his days, free from harm or punishment. In order to assure his son's freedom, Thranduil agreed to stay behind, to seek exile in Middle Earth until the end of his days. He knew he could not tell Legolas of this bargain, for his son would never agree. He would insist upon staying with his father; he would insist upon forgoing the call of the sea, no matter how powerful it was. Thranduil could not let him do that; he could not let his son make that much of a sacrifice for his own transgression; no, he would bear the burden of this alone, for he alone was at fault. He would have to travel with Legolas to the Grey Havens, and at the last moment, force him upon the ship and force his son to leave him behind.
Tears fell from his eyes as he sat upon his great horse, his head bowed and his tears wetting the stallion's withers. A deep rumbling nicker came from the horse and he tossed his head, sensing his master's pain. He pranced in place for a few moments, nickering and tossing his head, and Thranduil managed a smile as he rubbed the horse's neck. "Yes, perhaps you are right, my old friend, what we need is a good gallop. The wind in our hair will do us much good. Come, meldir, show me what you have in you still." He gathered the horse's mane in his hands and gently squeezed his flanks, and the stallion leapt forward, reaching full speed within a few strides and flying across the meadow. The pair flew across the ground, the wind whipping through the stallion's mane and sending Thranduil's hair and cloak billowing out behind them. For a short while, the King was able to forget about all that plagued him, and exist only in that moment, hearing nothing but the pounding of the horses hooves, the roaring of his breathing, and the wind whistling in his ears. It was liberating, pure freedom, and he had not experienced it in far too long. He found himself laughing, yelling out at the top of his lungs as the horse surged forward. Startled birds flew up from the trees as they passed, deer leapt from their hiding places, and a small herd of horses joined them, galloping behind and alongside them as they raced forward. As they slowed their pace and cantered into the forest, the herd fell in behind them, single file, along the narrow path. He heard the sound of breaking branches and hooves scrambling down a hill, and looked up to see his son upon his faithful mount, Arod. He halted his horse, and the group behind them, and waited for his son. Legolas was beaming, and for just a moment Thranduil's heart was lightened, knowing that his son would be happy; knowing that he would finally have peace in Valinor, away from all the pain that he had been through in Middle Earth.
"That was brilliant, Ada! I had nearly forgotten how well you rode. You were beautiful, flying across the meadow." He joined his father, riding beside him as they walked along the path.
Thranduil smiled and rubbed his stallion's neck. "This horse and I have been through many trials together, he has served me well. The old boy has quite a bit of life left in him."
Legolas reached across and took his father's hand, "Will it be hard for you to leave him behind?"
Thranduil swallowed as he felt the lump grow in his throat, "Yes, but he has earned a rest, he has earned his freedom. The Rohirrim will protect him and he will live out his life with the Mearas."
Legolas looked up at the sky through the tree boughs and sighed. "'Tis strange, leaving my only home behind for somewhere I have never been. There is a curious sense of finality to our last days here, a sense of loss that I cannot quite explain." He looked at his father, "So much has changed, the world is not what it once was. Oddly enough, I find myself longing for days passed; I find it difficult to leave, Ada; but I know I must, if I did not, I would never be at peace."
Thranduil said nothing as he rode beside his son; he found it difficult to keep this secret. They would depart upon the morrow and ride northwest, toward Lindon. He could feel each passing moment weigh upon his heart; each minute that passed brought him closer to doing what he feared would be impossible. He felt Arod's flank press into his calf and looked over to see his son leaning over to kiss him. It was a brief, sweet kiss, but Thranduil lost himself in it just the same. Memories of all the times they had shared together flashed through his mind like a waking dream. Memories of Galadriel riding into the wood, swollen with child, with his child. Memories of Legolas as an infant, his flaxen curly locks tousled about his head; memories of the first time he grasped a bow and fell over backward into the tall grass when he lost his grip. Memories of holding his son in his arms, of saying goodbye before he rode off to war with his own father. He remembered returning home from the war, only Legolas' embrace healed the wounds upon his soul and the loss he had suffered. He remembered that first, breathless kiss upon Legolas' bed, and the years of ensuing love and passion that came from it. He struggled to maintain control, to hold back the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. He ran his hand into his son's hair, drawing him closer as he pressed his tongue inside his sweet mouth. His heart stopped at the soft moan that ushered from his son's mouth and he felt his sex swell inside his leggings as Legolas' tongue caressed his own. They broke from their kiss and he looked into the deep lapis eyes of his beloved.
Legolas' lips were swollen, his braids coming loose and his hair falling about his face, he leaned into his father and whispered, "Take me to our place, make love to me in the tall grass, Ada."
Thranduil looked ahead and cantered forward, Legolas following as they came to a small clearing. They dismounted and found their way through a break in the bushes to a glade surrounded by blackberry bushes and trees. Legolas ran his hands into his father's hair as he pressed his body to his, plundering his mouth with his tongue and softly moaning. Thranduil lay back upon the grass, pulling his son with him and holding him tight. He wanted every inch of Legolas' skin upon his, he wanted his son inside him, and he wanted to be inside his son. "Amin mela le, Legolas." He whispered.
"Amin mela le, Ada." His son whispered breathlessly. Legolas began tugging at the clasps to his father's tunic, suddenly desperate to get at him. It was if he was starving, he needed him and wanted him so badly be could barely stand it. He had not experienced this desperate intensity with his father since he was a young Elf. He had a sudden foreboding since that he had not much time left with him, and he wanted to spend every moment of it in his arms.
"Inside me, Legolas, I want to feel you inside me." The King whispered hoarsely. He brushed his lips along the curve of his son's ear, gently suckling the point as he grasped his son's buttocks, pulling him closer.
Legolas moaned as he rocked his hips into his lover's arousal and fondled the rings that pierced his nipples in his fingers. He was burning, aching; he was consumed with lust and desire for his one true love. He sat up furiously pulling his tunic free and grasping the top of his father's leggings, yanking them down around his hips, freeing his arousal. Thranduil growled as his son took him in his mouth and began relentlessly swallowing him. Legolas consumed his father, tasting him and relishing the feel of his heavy weight in his mouth. His own arousal was throbbing and aching to be touched. He felt his father's fingers tangle in his hair as he began slowly thrusting up into his mouth, his deep moans and growls were resonating throughout his body, as if each sound went straight from his ears to his arousal. He felt his lover's rigid length begin to twitch and swallowed as he spilled down his throat. He cleaned him with his tongue, slowly, lovingly caressing his silken length, before rising to press his lips to those of his father, of his love.
Thranduil kissed him deeply and tasted himself upon his son's tongue. He pulled back, held Legolas by the shoulders, looked into his midnight blue eyes, and whispered, "Fill me, Iôn, take me."
Legolas groaned, straining to reach his father's mouth with his own but being held back by his powerful arms. Memories returned to him of those first couplings, how desperate and afraid he had been; how much he needed and loved his father, how much he wanted him. He rose and removed his own leggings, sliding his hand down between his lover's legs and finding his entrance. He coated his fingers with his own essence and pressed them inside his beloved King. He gently stretched and opened him, feeling the pounding of his unfulfilled desire coursing through his body.
"Now, Iôn, do it now." The King growled.
Legolas whispered breathlessly, "But, Ada, you are not quite ready…"
"Now, trust me, Legolas, do it now."
Legolas placed his slickened arousal at his lover's entrance and pushed forward as the King pressed down, burying himself in one unceasing thrust. He gasped and moaned as he felt his father's tight heat surround him. Thranduil groaned and gritted his teeth against the searing pain; he held his breath and willed himself to relax and accept the forceful intrusion. Legolas' head was swimming, his thoughts swirling about him, memories of hours of passionate lovemaking, visions of past lovers, and fear. Fear crept in, even in this most blissful of moments, when he was buried inside the one he loved more than any other. He could not understand why, why he felt this ever-increasing sense of dread. All thought left his mind, however, when his father arched his back and pressed him deeper inside him and begged him to move. He entered his father over and over, his heart racing, his blood boiling with passion. He heard his father whimper as he struck his mark and he moaned, near tears with love and want. He cried out as he found his release and spilled his essence inside the one that he held most dear. He slipped from his body and fell upon his chest, panting as he listened to his love's slowing heartbeat.
"By Elbereth, Ada. That was amazing, I love you so…" He whispered softly.
Thranduil took a deep breath, willing himself to peace as he held his son in his arms. He whispered in return, "Amin mela le, my Greenleaf."
They slept for awhile before dressing and riding back to the deserted palace to pack for their journey.
~*~*~*~
October 22nd, 120, Fourth Age, Tirion, Valinor
Erestor sat in a wide chair; his feet propped up on the railing that lined his balcony, staring out across the rolling meadows outside his new home. His room was just like it had been in Imladris, and his life was much the same except for one major component, Glorfindel was not there, nor would he be, ever again. The Counselor sipped his tea and found that while he still missed the warrior, and knew he always would, he had been able to lock that longing he felt away and harden his heart so that he could survive. That is what he would do from now on, survive, survive as he had for so many years without him. The last ship from Middle Earth was due to arrive within a few weeks and he was certain he would not see Glorfindel on it. He hoped he would, however, see Legolas and Thranduil, as the Mirkwood Prince and his father were yet to arrive.
He closed his eyes and remembered the night of compassion and tenderness that the Prince had gifted him with, and he looked forward to seeing both of his good friends again. He placed his hand upon a leather bound volume that lay upon the table beside him. It was an illustrated history of the War of the Ring, and it had been a gift from Legolas to Erestor, sent via a Silvan Elf from Mirkwood on one of the last ships that had arrived. He opened it and read the inscription inside:
"To My Dearest Friend, Erestor,
As a thanks for your good counsel and friendship. Without you, I do not know if I would have had the strength to do what I had to do. You are truly an amazing Elf. Until we see one another again.
Your good friend,
Legolas Greenleaf"
Legolas… even the sound of his name caused a smile to cross the normally stern Counselor's face. Legolas was a beauty, one to rival Glorfindel, though he was nothing like the Vanya. The Prince was complicated and simple all at the same time; he possessed an unerring optimism that even in the face of certain death would light up in his eyes. He had heard stories of the Elf's heroism during the War from Aragorn, and via letters from Arwen to her father. Legolas had proven his mettle, stared evil in the face and beat it back with his unwavering faith in all that was good in the world. Elrond could not have chosen a better guardian for the Fellowship; none could have filled the role as Legolas did. As Aragorn had so eloquently said, legions of men and free folk owed their lives to the Elf, for without Legolas, the Fellowship would have failed, and Aragorn, himself, would have perished in the War before fulfilling his destiny.
Erestor also looked forward to seeing Thranduil, although he worried what would become of the two once they arrived, nothing escaped the ever-watchful eyes of the Valar. He prayed that somehow ancient laws and customs could be overlooked, that love would win out over law, but his own weary heart struggled to hold on to that hope.
He closed his eyes and let the sound of Valinor take his thoughts and he struggled once again to find rest.
~*~*~*~
Elvish = English translation:
Meldir = Friend
Ada = Father
Iôn = Son
Amin mela le = I love you~ Next Chapter ~
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