Title & Chapter Number: The Weeping of the Trees (Part 1 of the 'Pilgrim' story arc) 3/12
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: The Woodland Chronicles
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all its inhabitants are Tolkien's, not mine. I'd risk bankruptcy to own Legolas, though. How much would he cost me? Would they give me Haldir as a bonus? Or at least for a reduced price... A girl can dream, right?
Warnings: Incest! Don't like it? Don't read it! Simple. Also: consensual bondage, heavy sap, and angst.
Betas: Jilly! You rock! Yes, you do!
Cast: Elladan/Elrohir, slightly Legolas/Thranduil, Elladan/Elrohir/OC, Elladan/Elrohir/Thranduil implied. Oh, and Haldir's there, too. :-)
Timeline: Third Age, approx. 440 years prior to the Fellowship.
Spoilers: Nope, I don't think so.
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir travel to King Thranduil's court in Mirkwood to attend the feast celebrating Legolas's coming of age. Not only will this event change the young Prince's life forever, but that of several other Elves as well.
Notes: Dedicated to Elisa and Jilly. You have both inspired me, in your own way. Thanks!
Chapter 3 - Birds Of A Feather
Mirkwood, July 2580, T.A.
"And?"
"Everything is quiet."
Elladan dumped his bag to the ground and put his bow against the trunk of a nearby tree, then removed his quiver, and sword. Elrohir was sitting cross-legged on the ground, by the small fire he'd built. They'd made camp for the night, and the sun had set hours ago. Elladan had gone away to take a look around, see if there was any Evil close. But it so seemed they were in no danger of being attacked. Their horses stood nearby, peaceful and relaxed; they did not seem to sense any danger either.
They were in Mirkwood. Set out from Imladris a fortnight ago, they had arrived at the border of the forest two days ago. They'd been here before and knew which road to take, and if everything went well, they would arrive at Thranduil's palace tomorrow.
Elrohir looked up at his brother, who still stood scanning the surroundings, alert as always. The light of the fire danced enticingly over his tall body. As always when they travelled, they wore their armour; with the rising Evil in the mountains and in Mirkwood itself, the multiplying of foul beasts, they always had to be prepared for an attack. Thick, flexible leather pauldrons covered their shoulders. Leather also on their thighs, while their chestplates were of light metal, and mithril maille protected their arms and the vulnerable base of their throat. Their clothes were different shades of red and black, their armour leather-brown and mithril-silver. They both were armed with a long, elven sword, slender daggers and a light bow. They sure didn't look like they were on their way to attend a party, Elrohir realized and he smiled.
"It's all right, El," he said, "we're in no danger. Look at how calm our horses are."
Elladan nodded slowly, but still showed no inclination to join his brother. Elrohir's smile turned sly as he sat up on his knees. "Oh, I was wrong," he said. "I *do* feel danger."
Elladan arched an eyebrow. "You do?"
"Yes, it's drawing closer," Elrohir said as he moved towards Elladan on his knees until he knelt in front of him.
"A great host?" Elladan asked, playing along with him.
"No," Elrohir replied and he started to fondle with laces, first removing the leather that protected Elladan's groin. "An individual."
"What do you think his will is?" Elladan's voice turned a little hoarse when Elrohir set out to open the laces of his leggings.
"His thoughts are dark," Elrohir said, "and are focused on you, dear brother. His intention is to make you scream." With those words, he opened Elladan's leggings and released his brother's already hardening member, at which Elladan sucked in his breath. When the hot wetness of Elrohir's mouth closed around him, he moaned approvingly and grasped the tree behind him, stumbling backwards until his entire body leaned against the trunk. Elrohir followed him on his knees, not releasing Elladan's throbbing erection from his mouth, and now, as Elladan's hands found his scalp, fingers intertwining with his dark locks, Elrohir braced his hands on the tree trunk, incarcerating Elladan with his arms, and started the pleasure.
He loved to do this to Elladan. The trembling of Elladan's body, the tremors in his legs, the sounds coming from his lips so generously. He liked to take his time; start by only taking the head into his mouth, tease it with the stiffened tip of his tongue. Then take him deeper gradually, savouring the feel of Elladan's hard length filling him more and more, until he finally had all of him.
"Mmmm," Elladan uttered, his fingers gently forcing Elrohir closer, "ah, gods, yes!"
Elrohir moved back, letting Elladan's shaft slide over the length of his tongue and then letting it escape from his mouth. Elladan whimpered with disappointment and need, but Elrohir took his time to admire Elladan's beautiful, pulsing erection. One hand came from the tree bark and closed around the hard shaft; a thumb stroked the sensitive underside, pressing and coaxing, from the base to the tip. Elladan groaned and unconsciously pushed his hips forward.
Elrohir repeated this procedure several times until Elladan shuddered uncontrollably, then placed his hand back on the tree and took Elladan's cock into his mouth again, drawing it deep down his throat in one slow, smooth movement while he breathed regularly through his nose. With his experience, he knew how to relax the muscles at the back of his throat to offer Elladan full access.
"Oh by the Valar!" Elladan gasped as his full length was taken in. "That is delicious!"
More encouraging cries came from Elladan's throat as Elrohir moved back and forth in a steady rhythm, sucking strongly and making sure Elladan felt the entire length of his eager tongue. Elladan was now constantly moving his hips, pursuing more of the exquisite sensation as he held Elrohir's head firmly, moaning and gasping in complete abandon.
"Yes!" he cried when Elrohir moved faster, sucked harder, more demanding; he was thankful that tonight, Elrohir did not have the patience to delay his release, like he sometimes would. Hands were gripping his buttocks now, drawing him closer. When Elrohir moaned with the pleasure, it caused a soft, vibrating sensation around his entire cock that made Elladan fling his head back against the tree and cry out. His hips bucked again, his need building until suddenly, with unexpected force, he shot his seed down Elrohir's throat. He cried out again as his brother drank of him, swallowing and licking him clean attentively.
"Ah," Elladan moaned softly, "brother..." His knees buckled. When Elrohir released him, both his mouth and his hands, Elladan slid down weakly, spent and satisfied. Now eye-to-eye with Elrohir, he smiled weakly at him, that mirror image of himself; his flesh and blood, his blessing, his companion in darkness and in light. "My love," he said breathlessly. In awe of the love he saw in his brother's eyes.
"My forever," Elrohir replied and he cupped Elladan's face for a kiss.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil's palace was grand, stunning, but not as stunning as the Mirkwood King himself. He stood waiting for them, alone, on the steps in front of his palace. His tall, battle-hardened body covered in heavy, royal velvets, the colors of Mirkwood: green and brown. His hands behind his back, his feet spread comfortably, a slight smile upon his shapely lips as he patiently awaited the arrival of the new guests; the pose of an experienced ruler. His head and his broad shoulders framed by glorious golden hair, crowned by a simple headband of white silver. Two braids at his temples, pulled back and bound together at the back of his head. His face fair and serene, and at the same time edged with an unpolished, masculine attractiveness that proved wrong those who said that all Elves were androgynous.
"Sons of Elrond," he said, coming down to meet them as they quickly dismounted. "The day has finally come that my court will be rejoicing in your presence. Welcome!"
Elladan and Elrohir bowed gracefully, greeting the King with all respect. When they looked up at him, the eyes of the King went from the one to the other, sparkling with amusement. "Your Majesty," Elladan said, "sire, it is an honour for us. We carry greetings from our father, and well-wishes for you, the Crown Prince and your people."
Thranduil clasped their hands in his, first Elrohir's, then Elladan's. Both brothers felt it as the King's eyes met theirs; this one was noble and true. This one would never avoid one's eyes. *All* stories of praise they'd heard about him were probably accurate. "I know your names," Thranduil said, his voice gentle but carrying the deep, baritone timbre that featured in the numerous tales about him. "But you are, indeed, confusingly alike!" He eyed Elrohir with a friendly, scrutinizing gaze, then turned to Elladan. "May I attempt a guess?" he smiled. "You are Elladan, you are the oldest."
This took the twins by surprise. So many Elves of Imladris still couldn't tell them apart, and this King, this Elf they'd never met before, had it right the first time? Had to be a lucky guess!
"Yes, my Lord Thranduil," Elladan said, taken aback, "I am Elladan. But may I ask, how did you know?"
"I didn't." Thranduil laughed softly, the sound wrapping around the twins' hearts and warming them comfortably from inside, like warm wine on a winter's day. "But I have heard tales about you," he said, "and after hearing those, I thought that such a polite and well-spoken greeting would come from Elladan, while his brother Elrohir would let him do the talking." The King's amused gaze shifted, settling on Elrohir again. "I still could've been wrong though," he said, as if he felt he had to apologize for his fortunate guess.
The twins, even though they'd lived for many hundreds of years, could not help feeling young under Thranduil's bright, friendly gaze. The King was older, taller; more wisdom shone from his eyes, more experience. And still, despite all this and despite his royal bearing, he was not untouchable; one could still see the young Elf still living in him, the humor and the joy. As Elrohir tried to picture a younger version of him, wondering if Prince Legolas would indeed resemble his father as closely as the tales told, Elladan just took in the sight of the King; he was magnificent beyond expectation.
At a simple sign from Thranduil, several young Elves came; one to take care of the horses, and two to bring the twins' belongings to their room. "You can also lay down your weapons," Thranduil said. "It is wise to be armed when travelling hither," - a quick expression of regret crossed the fair features of the King -, "but you will have no need of them as long as you are my guests."
When stripped of their luggage and armoury, Thranduil indicated that they could follow him. "Please come inside," he said. As the three of them entered the palace - Elladan and Elrohir took in the tasteful splendour of it -, Thranduil inquired after Elrond and his household, after Imladris, and they answered him politely.
"But you have travelled long," Thranduil then said, "and must be longing for a moment to refresh yourselves. It shall be so. But let me invite you to come down again after that and have lunch with me and my son. He will be home from classes shortly and will be delighted to meet you. He has been awaiting your arrival eagerly."
"Yes, my lord Thranduil," Elladan said as he and Elrohir inclined their heads, "we will be honoured to be guests at your table. And we in turn will be even more delighted to meet your son, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, at last."
Thranduil smiled his warm smile. "Very well. I will gladly receive you in the dining room, in an hour."
They said their goodbyes and parted, Elladan and Elrohir following a servant who showed them the way to their room. It was spacious and light, and the dominating colors of it were green and brown. It smelled of the forest, of fragrant leaves and of pine-cones. Unaware of the fact that the twins were lovers, Thranduil had given them a room with two separate beds, but they did not even give it a second thought. They talked enthusiastically as they refreshed themselves and changed their clothes, discussing the warm welcome and the magnificence of the King. Meeting him had certainly raised their expectations even more.
When they went down an hour later, they were dressed in their heavier robes, unfit for travel; combining red with black, grey and white, as usual. Upon joining the King in the dining room, they learned that the Prince had not yet arrived, but they seated themselves and enjoyed a drink with the King while waiting for his arrival, in the meantime continuing their conversation. The King seemed genuinely interested in the latest developments in Imladris and the Last Homely House. The twins in turn listened eagerly to Thranduil's stories concerning Mirkwood.
Not everything was new to them, of course; they already knew that Thranduil had come from Lindon in the west when he was still a youngster, together with his father, King Oropher, who led his people to Greenwood the Great, as Mirkwood had been called back then, and settled there. But Thranduil had many other interesting tales and anecdotes to tell, and he spoke with such enthusiasm and liveliness that it was impossible not to be captivated. Elladan and Elrohir were rapt, not only by the tales itself, but also by the speaker. Weaving his words together fluently and supporting his sentences with graceful, occasional gestures of his hands, the King spoke in that low-timbered voice of his. Listening to Thranduil talk was anything but a nuisance.
And then a single knock on the door, and an Elf of the royal guard came in. "My lord," he said, bowing low, "the Prince has arrived."
"Good," Thranduil said, "please tell him to join us here."
Before he'd even finished his sentence, a young, slender Elf came dancing inside unceremoniously. However, when he perceived the two strange Elves who'd risen from their seats together with the King, his feet fell still, his eyes grew wide in surprise. He stared at the new arrivals and they stared back at him, all three of them in awe of what they beheld.
Legolas had never seen identical twins before and could hardly believe that two individuals could be so alike in appearance. And what an appearance it was! Every inch the battle-ready orc slayers they were said to be, the twins were tall and strong, but their features were fair, their eyes soft and their lips curved in a smile. They looked young, but in spite of this, there was something about their faces that made it clear that they were, in fact, considerably older than the Prince. Millennia of life experience; it sat on their beautiful faces. Legolas felt instantly young, younger than he actually was. The twins' robes were foreign, unfamiliar; they spoke of a distant realm, of different traditions, strange and exciting to Legolas, who so badly longed to see more of Middle-earth. Legolas also sensed a foreign scent in the room, the scent of the wild, the grasses outside Mirkwood, the mountains; a scent the twins had brought with them, still perceptible even as it was gradually being replaced by the scent of Mirkwood. Legolas felt instantly drawn to these two Elves; he felt they had many interesting tales to tell, and he hoped they would be willing to share some of them with him.
As for Elladan and Elrohir, they had been prepared for a confrontation with breathtaking beauty, but they were still taken aback. Yes, no doubt about it; blond-haired, fair of face, sensuous lips ready to smile... this was the son of Thranduil. However, Elrohir felt instantly ashamed for having allowed himself to fantasize about bedding the Prince, even in jest. For Legolas, despite his uncommon, jaw-dropping beauty, was still so very *young*! His body was that of a young man, svelte but masculine, and his facial features, although still maturing, were anything but childlike; but his eyes...! They were bright and blue and studied the twins with pure, innocent curiosity. Not once did his eyes flicker with something more. Elrohir instantly knew that this young prince was not yet ready for sexual games, for experiments. His soul was pure, purer than a crystal mountain stream. Soft and gentle. This Elf would not have a tumble with someone just out of curiosity, or shallow lust. No, Elrohir felt it very clearly, saw it in the Prince's eyes; Legolas was a romantic, and saved his embraces for that special one.
Still, Elrohir couldn't stop his lips from curving up in a delighted smile, and he saw that Elladan was doing the same. How could they not? How could one remain unaffected by someone as heart-stoppingly beautiful as the Prince of Mirkwood? Thranduil approached the Prince. "Welcome home, son," he said. "We have guests as you can see, the first ones to arrive for the celebration." He placed one hand on Legolas's shoulder and ushered him towards the twins.
"The sons of Elrond of Imladris," Legolas said, smiling. Elrohir could tell that the young Prince was recalling the lessons his father had taught him about receiving guests properly, and he was doing well, but the boy's smile was a little shy. His eyes however remained on Elrohir's bravely.
"Mae govannen, Prince Legolas Thranduilion," Elrohir said, bowing his head. "It is such a delight to meet you at last. My name is Elrohir."
"Mae govannen, Elrohir of Imladris," the beautiful young prince replied. His clear tenor voice kissing Elrohir's ears. "The pleasure is mine entirely. I have heard much of you." His hand came up and Elrohir took it in greeting, holding it briefly in his own. It was warm and dry. Stronger than one might expect. Due to intensive archery training, Elrohir guessed. "Welcome in Mirkwood," Legolas smiled before turning to Elladan and speaking kind words of welcome to him.
Elrohir, as his brother and Legolas exchanged greetings, took his time to study the Prince more closely. Because he came fresh out of school, he was wearing relatively simple clothes: black leggings and boots, and a pale-blue tunic. His hair was thick and shiny, and fell in slight waves between his shoulder blades. It was of a slightly different color than Thranduil's; while the King's hair seemed to be spun of pure gold, Legolas's was a little lighter, a blend of sunshine and moonlight. He wore the braids of a youngster, but the elaborate arrangement of the braids marked him as royal blood.
Apart from the glorious hair, father and son shared their dark, curved eyebrows, long lashes and proud jawline. They also had the same, sensual curve of lip, and the same light shone in their faces when they smiled. The color of their eyes however was different, and Legolas's facial features were softer than his father's. One would never, ever mistake the one for the other, but looking at Thranduil, one had a pretty good idea of what Legolas would become. And vice versa: Elrohir guessed that Thranduil, millennia ago, must have been very much like the Legolas they saw right now.
Elrohir looked from one to the other, trying to decide which one of them looked more stunning, but found that this was an impossible decision to make. Legolas had the endearing, pure beauty of a boy turning into a man, while Thranduil took your breath away with his well-defined masculinity.
"You have arrived so early," Legolas told the brothers, surprise coloring his words. "The ceremony won't take place until the end of next week."
"Indeed," Elladan said. "Our father sent us away early. I think he feared we might be delayed underway, as he knows we can't resist an orc track when we see one."
His voice trailed off as he suddenly wondered whether he should even have brought up those foul beasts in the presence of King and Prince. After all, a band of Orcs had claimed the life of the Queen.
Thranduil seemed to sense his hesitation and smiled. "Do not worry, young Elladan. The four of us think alike when it comes to the race of Orcs, and with good reason." He loosely draped one arm around Legolas's shoulder. "We all know what happened. Our wounds are still healing, but we don't shy away from conversation. You have not offended us."
The twins smiled, relieved. Thankful for Thranduil's reassurance. "Let us sit," Thranduil said then, "and enjoy a simple lunch."
Lunch went by with light conversation and laughter. Elrohir found it impossible to take his eyes off the royal couple in front of him. Legolas was so very comfortable in his father's presence, more comfortable than the twins had ever been with Elrond. The two finished sentences for each other, made fun of each other, but there was also respect. Thranduil inquired after Legolas's day in school, and Legolas answered all his father's questions enthusiastically. Elrohir understood that this was part of their daily routine.
It was clear to Elrohir that father and son had leaned on each other after the death of the Queen, that they had pulled each other through and that their bond had grown stronger in the process. To see the two of them together was truly heartwarming.
Legolas gradually became more confident in the presence of the twins, and at one point he turned to them, eyes glimmering with enthusiasm. "I have heard so much about Imladris," he said. "Please tell me about it."
And so Elladan started telling, occasionally filled in by Elrohir. Legolas was an eager listener, and in his youthful eagerness, fired question after question at the twins. It became clear that the Prince not only had paid good attention in history class, but was also quick of mind. In the end, Thranduil had to remind his son that it was time for his archery lessons. Legolas bade the twins goodbye and left, and Thranduil returned to the duties awaiting him in his study, but only after having said that the twins were free to explore the surroundings, the gardens, and make use of the archery ranges and practice fields. The twins thanked him warmly, and they parted, in high spirits.
Once up in their room again, Elrohir dropped onto his bed, bouncing on the soft mattress. "Well?" he said.
"I have bad news for us, brother," Elladan smirked.
"You mean the Prince?"
"He won't let us have him. You must have seen it too."
"I have," Elrohir said.
"A pity," Elladan continued. "Even the most enthusiastic tales did him no justice. He is a beauty, truly one of the fairest I ever saw."
"But he's young," Elrohir said.
"Old enough to start learning how to use his body," Elladan said. And after a second's silence, "I wonder if he is in love. I wonder whom he will take to bed next week."
"Whoever it is, 'lucky' is his or her middle name," Elrohir said.
Elladan now dropped onto his own bed, facing Elrohir. "I suggest a change of plan," he said, eyes sparkling mischievously. He was more relaxed than Elrohir had seen him in a long time; apparently he felt good here, at ease.
"A change of plan?" Elrohir said, not understanding. Elladan's grin grew broader, and suddenly realization dawned on Elrohir.
"El!" he said, eyes growing wider. "You can't be serious. The King?"
"Do you think he has a lover?" Elladan said unperturbably.
"You heard what he said. His wife... The scars are still fresh."
"The touch of a lover can be balm on a burning scar."
"El," Elrohir said sternly, "you know what we promised father. Decency... not rebuff anyone... behave... do Imladris honour... remember?"
"I am not suggesting to drag him into bed with us. We can gauge him, ask around... see if he would be open to it. And we never promised father not to bed the King!"
Elrohir shook his head in disbelief, but amusement began taking over. Was this truly Elladan?
"You want him," he said. "You actually want to lie with our host!"
Elladan raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Don't *you*?"
Elrohir started chuckling. "If I denied that, I'd be lying. He is very beautiful, and tempting."
"He is more than tempting," Elladan said. "He is magnificent."
"What about *us*, then?" Elrohir said, pouting playfully.
Elladan smiled tenderly. "You know no one can replace you, my love. Ever. But it's been just the two of us for almost seven decades. A little variety won't hurt us." His eyes sought Elrohir's, a hint of uncertainty in them. "Will it?"
"No, El," Elrohir smiled, "it won't." Suddenly he was straddling Elladan's lap and running his fingers through Elladan's hair. "I am forever yours," he said.
Elladan laughed happily as he circled his arms around his lover. "You know," he said, "having two beds has its advantages."
"Does it?"
"Yes. First we can try mine, and then yours!"
Both were glowing with joy as they made love on the green and brown coverlets of Mirkwood; first Elladan's bed, then Elrohir's.
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