Title & Chapter Number: The Weeping of the Trees (Part 1 of the 'Pilgrim' story arc) 8/12
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 8 - What The Mirror Tells You
Mirkwood, July 2580, T.A.
It was strange, but the more time Legolas spent among the partying Elves, the lonelier he felt. Melancholy circled menacingly above his head like a bird of prey, ready to strike. An inexplicable feeling of despair rose within his chest and threatened to suffocate him, and he had no idea how to make it go away. He looked around him; all were having a good time. Why wasn't he? The conversation with Elladan lightened his heart for a moment, but once the Imladris Elf moved on, Legolas felt himself slide back into that pit of impenetrable darkness.
When at one point, for the first time that night, no one paid attention to him for a moment, Legolas didn't hesitate long; he left the party. Suddenly he stood in the quiet corridor, accompanied only by his heartbeat and a slight dizziness in his head due to the wine. However, the peace of the empty hallway held no relief, no comfort for Legolas, and it was with a heavy heart that he ascended the stairs that led to his chambers. Alone. As he'd known all along.
Even the warm familiarity of his bedchamber failed to light a spark of happiness in Legolas's heart this night. He kicked off his boots, almost angry. What was ailing him, anyway? When had this night, which had started out as rather pleasant, turned into something that seemed to take place around him, but in which he did not participate? Why did he feel so empty inside, so empty and... lonely?
He removed his tunic and put it over the back of a chair. Then stood in front of the man-high mirror that stood in a corner of his room, and took a long look at himself. At the symbolic painting on his chest. Traced it with his fingers, felt the familiar rhythm of his own steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Studied his new self in the mirror. But was it really a new Legolas he saw? In his heart he knew better; the little differences he noticed were only skin-deep. He brought his hands to his head and carefully took the silver circlet away, then started to unbraid his hair. Soon, strands of freed hair fell on his shoulders, and his fingers worked faster, until all his hair was free.
"There," he said out loud. "You see? Still the same."
Indeed, it was just the old Legolas staring back at him. A Legolas he was all too familiar with, but whom he barely knew. Whose outer appearance he could study for hours, without seeing what, or who, lay behind that.
"You are a pathetic case," he muttered. "Everyone you care for is downstairs, having fun, and you're up here, alone and feeling sorry for yourself."
But he did not move. Stood perfectly still as the mirror screamed the truth in his face: this whole evening, with the ceremony and all its ancient symbolism, had changed nothing. Had changed nothing about *him*. Had brought no new answer to the question he'd been asking himself over and over again for quite some time now:
Who was he?
He was the son of a king. Child of a murdered mother. No one's brother. Only prince of Mirkwood. 'Fair' they called him; but what was he besides that? Surely he had more to offer than just a pleasing outward appearance? 'A promise to Middle-earth', Elladan had called him. His name, 'greenleaf', also spoke of promise, of hope. But a promise of what? Hope, for what? If not as future king, how could he possibly be of importance? If the Valar granted his wish and allowed Thranduil to rule Mirkwood for many millennia to come... then what would be his, Legolas's role? Hang around and be the pretty prince? The Elf in front of him clenched his fists. No! He would not accept that. He could do more than that, *would* do more than that.
The death of his mother had affected his inner growth, he instinctively knew that. His body had changed as it should, had become that of a man; but from the inside, he felt barely older than the Elf he'd been on the day his mother died. A boy, just about to begin discovering the world; marvel at the changes in his body; return the sweltering stares of other Elves. Fantasize. Dream. Dismiss parental orders and prohibitions, and seek independence. Taste it. Feel it. Receive a reprimand and then do it again.
Legolas was about to do all that when that tragic day came, and his whole life was turned upside down. His inner eye turned its gaze from the days to come, to the days that lay behind him. The days when he, his father and his mother had still formed a family. Life became like riding an unruly horse; he could look back at what lay behind him, but he could only go forward and there was nothing he could do to change that. Still, the changes in his body came, along with the confusing feelings that accompanied it. But he pushed them to the side, too afraid to face them. Unwilling to. He ignored the stares of flirty Elves; refused to meet them. How could he even let his mind go there, with his mother gone and his father left behind to grieve?
His father became his main focus, as he became his father's. The affection between them became their salvation; it had brought them even closer together. And rebelling against his father's will, like most Elves his age did, was not even an option for Legolas. It wasn't necessary; there was understanding between them, and although Thranduil always remained in the father role, something developed between them that exceeded a common father-son relationship: something that resembled friendship. A strong affection. Complete trust.
Fantasies and dreams still came to him though, unbidden. One flirtatious glance from an Elf could trigger an entire maelstrom of confusing feelings within him; summon images of lust in his mind; make his body unresponsive, lead a life of its own. But it frightened him. Made him feel ashamed. Ashamed of his own body and how it betrayed him. Uncertain how to handle these feelings, Legolas pushed them far far away, tried to pretend they weren't there.
This had been the situation for more than sixty years, and once the pain over the Queen's death finally started to fade, Legolas thought he was quite happy. But lately, a growing feeling of restlessness was developing in his heart. He looked in the mirror and found himself disliking the Elf he'd become; or, rather, had *not* become. Had refused to become, in his fear for the changes in him.
What he saw in the mirror was a coccoon. A pretty coccoon with the form of a young elven male; but with a child living inside. A very frightened, very uncertain child trying to become a man but finding it incredibly hard.
Of course, he longed for love. To find physical and emotional completion in the arms of someone; someone who would hold him and whisper to him in the night. Someone with whom exposing his body and his soul would not feel uncomfortable. Someone who would get to know all his little oddities and love him for it. Someone who would have the ability to make him feel utterly vulnerable, but who would handle him with such tenderness that that vulnerability and loss of control would be a joy to him, instead of something to fear.
He was a hopeless romantic. He knew that.
And that, he knew, was why he was alone right now. For how could he let someone he did not love come so close to him? Make himself vulnerable for someone he did not trust? And he was not quick with love and trust; that he also knew.
He trusted the twins. But they had each other. They had told him that in confidence, but he hadn't needed the words to know. He had already seen the love between them, and envied them for it. Envied the strength of their love, the trust between them, their companionship; the completion they found with each other. They had been surprised when his reaction had been one of acceptance, without even the slightest hint of disgust. But how could he feel disgusted by such love? The kind of love he longed to have himself?
And, no matter how little he knew of him, he trusted Haldir. The mysterious Marchwarden intrigued him, was like a magnet to his eyes. Could he call it attraction, what he felt towards the Elf? And why did that thought make him blush? It was folly; Haldir was several millennia old. Old enough to be bound.
And even if he wasn't... how could he possibly ask of Haldir, or any other Elf, to love a coccoon, a coccoon that was home to such a strange creature? A confused child with incurable romantic treats, wanting to become a man but having no idea where to find his goal in life and how to get there. A child that longed for love but was afraid of it at the same time. And how could he, an Elf who barely knew who he was, be worthy of love? He knew he was not.
Legolas looked in wonder at the eyes in front of him, as the first tear welled there and started to fall, soon followed by more. He continued to watch as the Elf in the mirror wept; the façade falling in this moment of grief and revealing the elfling inside.
~*~*~*~
Before retreating to his room, Anyriand had whispered to Elladan, "So will I see you later tonight, in my room?"
"Oh, yes," Elladan had said, "I will be there."
And he came. Even sooner than expected. Anyriand let him in, hardly believing that he was about to get what he had been craving for quite some time.
Elrond's eldest son moved in the room as if it were his own, then halted by the window. "That is strange," he said out loud.
"What?" Anyriand said, too wrapped up by the dark-haired beauty's presence to notice anything else.
"It's raining. The sky was so beautifully clear just an hour ago, and now it's completely overcast."
Anyriand joined him and looked outside. It was true. A slow, steady rain was falling from the clouded skies. Nowhere a star to be seen.
"How odd indeed," he said. "The weather has been so fair all day long."
They gazed outside for a brief moment, until Elladan finally turned to Anyriand with a smile. "But let us not waste time discussing the weather," he said and he brought one hand to Anyriand's face. Took him by the chin and leaned forward to steal a kiss from his mouth. Teased him by parting his lips with a flick of his tongue, then moved away again.
"You like to play games, don't you, son of Elrond?" Anyriand said, annoyed by the briefness of the kiss.
Elladan laughed. "That is absolutely true," he said. "Will you not play along?"
"Play with me as you wish," Anyriand said, "as long as I get what I want in the end."
Elladan's eyes sparkled. "And what would that be?"
Anyriand smiled. "You."
Elladan laughed again. "If that is what you desire," he said, "then you shall have it." His hands trailed over Anyriand's clothing. "First, let's get rid of these." He searched for fastenings on the grey jerkin but found none. "How very unpractical, those Lórien garments," he said.
"Let me assist you," Anyriand said, and he swiftly unbuckled his belt, dropped it carelessly to the floor and pulled his jerkin over his head in one, quick movement.
"Thank you, I can take it from here," Elladan said and he began opening Anyriand's tunic. As he did so, he leaned forward and covered Anyriand's mouth with his own, taking it in a possessive kiss. Anyriand instantly responded, parting his lips to give him access to his mouth and groaning with approval when Elladan filled him smoothly with his hot, supple tongue. The Imladris Elf was a skilled kisser, alternated strokes of his tongue with soft sucking on Anyriand's tongue or lips, teasing and licking until Anyriand's legs threatened to give way under him.
When Anyriand's tunic fell open, Elladan moved away from his mouth and, slowly sinking to his knees, began to bestow licking kisses on Anyriand's skin; his throat, collarbones, his chest. The tunic fell to the floor. Anyriand, already breathing heavily, gasped when Elladan sucked one of his nipples into his mouth and made it a victim of his eager tongue. Then, his other nipple. Anyriand moaned loudly through clenched teeth and clutched at Elladan's shoulders.
"Nice?" Elladan asked with a wicked smile as he looked up.
"Yes, very," Anyriand replied breathlessly.
"Would you like some more?" came the second question right before Elladan's tongue travelled further down to lick the sensitive skin of Anyriand's belly.
"Oh, please."
While Elladan let his tongue tend to Anyriand's navel, he helped the Lórien Elf out of his boots, and consequently, out of his leggings as well, sliding them down Anyriand's long slender legs.
"By Elbereth, you do not waste any time," Anyriand commented.
"You insult me," Elladan said cheerfully. "I am an attentive lover. But those clothes hindered me terribly."
"It was not meant as a complaint," Anyriand assured him.
When the last garment was removed, Elladan turned his attention to Anyriand's long arousal, standing proudly between his thighs. A bed of soft curls at the base, of the same honey-blond color as the long hair on the Elf's head. Anyriand, gauging Elladan for a reaction, caught a little smile on the Elf's lips.
"What is it?" he asked. "Do I disappoint?"
"No, no, far from it... We just have this saying in Imladris:," Elladan said, grinning broadly now. "'What comes from the land where the mallorn tree sighs, is big of head and small between his thighs.' You are living proof that it is, indeed, nothing more than a saying."
Anyriand was appreciative of the compliment, but still felt insulted on behalf of his people. "Is that how you in Imladris perceive us?"
"Oh, come, Anyriand," Elladan chuckled, "surely you in Lórien have some similar flattering views of Imladris Elves?"
Without waiting for a reply, Elladan dipped his head lower and licked at Anyriand's thighs, placing sucking kisses and trailing his tongue upwards over the sensitive skin of the Elf's inner thighs.
"You like to lick me," Anyriand concluded, panting. "And you are quite generous, too."
"You are observant," Elladan smiled.
"So when will you - ah, Valar - allow me to return the favor?" Anyriand wanted to know.
"Later," Elladan promised. "First, enjoy this." And with those words, he took Anyriand's cock into his mouth.
Before he knew it, Anyriand had opened his mouth to let out a lustful cry, and his hands grabbed wildly at Elladan's head and shoulders, seeking anchor without really finding it. Elladan was quite different as a lover than Anyriand had expected him to be. He'd thought that Elrond's silent eldest would be the kind of Elf who liked to be loved by his partners passionately; to be claimed, taken to places of pleasure. He'd never expected Elladan to seek dominance so determinedly, to hold such passion in him.
Not that he was complaining. Gods, the Imladris Elf was good with his mouth. Sucking him in, licking, angling his head to increase the pleasure, hands grasping Anyriand's buttocks to force him closer. Anyriand moaned and gasped and stood shivering on weak legs, thrusting his hips forward to have more of this pleasure.
"Ahhh, gods!" he exclaimed when Elladan drew back to suckle strongly on the crown of Anyriand's erection. His hands searched the air around him for support but found none. "S - stop," he managed, "stop this or - or I'll fall over."
To both his relief and his disappointment, Elladan did indeed stop. "I'd rather not be the cause of severed limbs or anything of the sort," he said with a smile as he rose to his feet, and he ushered Anyriand towards the bed. "Why don't you lie down - that will be much more comfortable."
Anyriand obeyed, and he sighed with relief when his weakened body found a comfortable lying position on the soft mattress, which dipped slightly when Elladan climbed onto it. Still with all his clothes on, Anyriand suddenly realized in dismay, and he was about to complain when Elladan straddled him and grasped his wrists in one hand, pulling them gently above his head.
"Wha-?" Anyriand began to say.
"Please, allow me," Elladan said, and revealed what he had in his other hand. Anyriand's discarded belt. "I won't harm you," he assured him gently. "It's just part of the game. You will still get what you want. And more," he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Taken completely by surprise, Anyriand only nodded his assent. "Are you afraid I'll run away?" he asked as Elladan tied his wrists to the bars of the headboard with a couple of swift movements.
"No," Elladan said with a sexy grin. "I just like to have my victims writhing and helpless beneath me." He tested the bonds, and, satisfied, looked approvingly at his partner's nude form. "You are very beautiful," he said. "Do you know that?"
"Thank you," Anyriand breathed, feeling very self-conscious under Elladan's lustful gaze. "Will you not undress?" he asked then.
"Yes, I will," Elladan replied, and he started to do so. Opened his burgundy tunic with the silver embroideries and shrugged it off his shoulders. His boots followed. Then, made the removing of his leggings quite a show, sliding them down his legs slowly and sensually. Anyriand swallowed round a throat gone suddenly dry when the object of his desires suddenly sat naked on his bed. And what a sight he offered to Anyriand's eager eyes. Every inch of him showed the warrior he was; broad shoulders, taut buttocks, strong muscles in his long, slender legs, and yet his skin was endearingly smooth and unspoiled.
"Ah, you are beautiful," Anyriand whispered, now regretting the fact that his hands were bound.
"Thank you," Elladan said coyly.
Last, Anyriand's eyes fell on Elladan's erect manhood, and he sighed with longing. Yes, Elladan *was* beautiful, in every respect. Anyriand's sigh changed into a surprised moan when Elladan stretched himself gracefully upon his lover, bringing their naked bodies in full contact. Leaning on stretched arms, he claimed Anyriand's mouth in a sensuous kiss and began grinding his hips down in a maddening, slow rhythm, sliding his hard, hot arousal along Anyriand's.
Both frustrated and aroused by his own helplessness, Anyriand moaned his pleasure into Elladan's mouth, where the sound was muffled. Anyriand was surprised by the intensity of his own desire. He usually wasn't this easy in his sexual contacts, but the mystery that seemed to hang around Elrond's eldest had always intrigued him. The way he looked, talked, moved, it kindled a fire in Anyriand's loins that was now inflamed to unbelievable force by Elladan's lovemaking to him. That the beautiful orc slayer wanted him just as much, surprised him even more than his own lustful surrender.
"Uhnn, I want you!" Anyriand moaned when his mouth was released, thrusting his hips upwards to feel Elladan's desire for him.
"You shall have me." Elladan's voice was husky. "But," he added with a cruel little smile, "not yet."
He knelt between Anyriand's legs and studied the Elf's erection, which was weeping with desire. "First, I want to taste some more of you."
Anyriand grunted when he was taken into that deliciously hot, wet mouth once more. Using all his skill, Elladan set out to bring Anyriand to the brink of ecstasy and keep him there. Supporting Anyriand's trembling upper legs with his hands, he moved his head between his lover's thighs in an obscene rhythm, sucking wetly, licking and knowingly using the muscles of his throat to capture or release him as he chose.
Before long, Elladan had Anyriand as he wanted him: writhing and arching, moaning without restraint and pulling at his bonds unconsciously, but in vain. As he performed his act of pleasure, Elladan observed the other Elf closely. His lover's rapid breathing, his head thrown back in abandon, his body shiny with perspiration. When Elladan sensed the approach of orgasm, he did one more upward movement, letting Anyriand's tortured cock slip from his mouth and moving away.
"N-no," Anyriand protested weakly, twisting his body. "D-don't stop. You can't..."
Elladan smiled. "No matter how much I would enjoy to feel you come in my mouth, I don't want you to spend yourself just yet."
Anyriand whimpered with need, but Elladan unperturbably left the bed, only to return seconds later. Anyriand was not surprised when he heard a plopping sound, followed by the scent of something flowery in his nostrils. Ah, yes, he thought contentedly, that will be even better than coming in your mouth, Elladan.
Elladan shoved a pillow under Anyriand's buttocks and knelt between the Elf's spread thighs. But instead of starting to prepare Anyriand directly, he held the vial of oil tilted above Anyriand's body, dribbling amounts of oil on his skin, starting at his collarbones and moving down to his abdomen. Then, smeared it out liberally, with circling movements of his hands. Anyriand moaned impatiently, but did not try to rush Elladan; this was his game, Anyriand had given consent and he would have to wait until Elladan thought the time ripe.
Finally, Elladan gathered the oil that had pooled together in the little valley at the base of Anyriand's throat where his collarbones met, and brought his slick fingers to Anyriand's opening. "So tell me," he said, unable to conceal the tremble of excitement in his voice, "do you want this?"
"Yes!" Anyriand gasped, slightly lifting his hips. "Take me," he begged, "I need it. I need you."
Elladan prepared him then, first with one finger, but soon a second was added, slicking and widening Anyriand from the inside, almost undoing the Lórien Elf already with the touch. He used the last drops of oil to lubricate himself, then brought himself in the right position, still kneeling between Anyriand's legs. He slid his arms under the backs of his lover's thighs, slightly lifting his knees and taking him firmly by the hips. Steadying Anyriand's quivering body with his grip, he paused one last time. "Instruct me," he demanded.
Anyriand's glassy eyes slowly regained focus. "What?" he said.
"Instruct me," Elladan repeated. "Tell me what to do. How do you want me to take you?"
"I don't know," Anyriand said with a smile, "it is your game still. How would you like to take me?"
"As I always take my partners," Elladan said, in a low sensuous voice. "Nice and slow... but insistently."
"Then do so," Anyriand instructed.
Without further words, Elladan tightened his hold on Anyriand's hips and pushed forward, sliding into his body with surprising ease, despite the tightness of the Elf's opening. Anyriand threw his head back and, clenching his eyes shut, let out a long-drawn moan as Elladan filled him relentlessly, yet gently at the same time.
"Ahh, yes," he groaned. "That feels wonderful!"
"It is you who feels wonderful," Elladan said, a strained expression on his face.
"Feel more of me," Anyriand commanded. "Take me!"
Elladan started moving then, pulling back and pushing in, angling his hips as he thrust into him. Still held by Elladan's hands, Anyriand could do nothing but wrap his legs around Elladan's waist and surrender to it, surrender to the electrifying strokes so deep inside of him, and allow the moans that Elladan coaxed from his lungs to spill over his lips.
As they were making love so sensuously, Elladan never ceasing his rhythmical thrusts, Anyriand's hips grew slippery under Elladan's hands. The heavy scent of arousal combined with flowery oil worked as an aphrodisiac to Anyriand's senses, and his mind had drifted so far away from reality that it took a little while before he registered a repeated, interrupting sound.
Knocking on the door.
Elladan heard it, too, and slowed his thrusts. "Expecting more company?" he panted.
"No," Anyriand said. "Never mind. Whoever it is, he'll go away."
More knocking. Please go, Anyriand prayed inwardly, please go away. Elladan's thrusts had slowed to a maddening pace, and the blond Elf inwardly cursed the unwanted visitor for interrupting them.
"Have you locked the door?" Elladan whispered to him.
Anyriand stilled. "Erm," he said. Had he?
The answer came when the doorknob turned and the door started to open. Anyriand, instantly self-aware in his shameful position, stiffened. It all happened very quickly. Before he could decide what to do, the unwelcome visitor stepped inside. Elladan sat completely still now, but he was still buried inside Anyriand with his entire length. The whole situation was incredibly embarrassing.
The visitor's eyes fell on the couple on the bed, and he stood still. Anyriand gasped. It was Elrohir. What in the name of Varda was *he* doing here?
"You?" he exclaimed, enraged by the Elf's insolent behavior. Intruding like that.
"What are *you* doing here?" Elrohir asked Elladan.
"What am I doing here?" Elladan retorted. "What are *you* doing here??"
Anyriand wanted to shout at Elrohir to get out, but then a sudden suspicion crept into his mind. Was that really Elrohir standing there? Was that Elladan kneeling between his thighs, pulsing inside of him? His lust-dazed mind spinned as three pairs of eyes drifted from one to the other.
Which twin was who?
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