Title & Chapter Number: Műl 1/1
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Tortured Scribes
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All things Tolkien belong to his estate. All things original belong to me. I wrote this for my own amusement and I do not make a profit.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Alex
Cast: Haldir/Thranduil; various Tolkien Elves
Timeline: AU Third Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: Haldir is captured and given to Thranduil as a slave.
Notes: This fic is in response to the NF Haldir slave fic challenge. It is AU. Mirkwood and Lórien are at war over land. I am twisting, bending, and breaking canon to suit my story.
Thranduil let his blue eyes drift over the proud captive that his son, Legolas, had presented to him. Silver-blonde hair flowed down the Lórien Elf's back and shoulders now that it had been freed from the warrior braids that once graced it. The captive had been stripped of his battle stained raiment, bathed, and given a loose white tunic that fell to his thighs, revealing well-muscled legs. The Elf King felt himself stir as he thought of those legs wrapped around his waist. He set that train of thought aside and continued his perusal, pausing to take another sip of wine from the golden chalice in his hands. Blue eyes met his with an intense stare that fairly reeked with defiance. No matter, Thranduil mused, he would tame this young pup. "By what name are you known?"
Haldir continued to stare at the Elf King. He would not give him the satisfaction of even his name. He had heard stories about Thranduil of Mirkwood. Rumors said he had a great love for wine and an even greater love of wealth - jewels, gems, and precious metals. He was often described as slovenly, cruel and even dim of wit from too many years of heavy drinking. These rumors did nothing to paint a picture of the Thranduil before him. He was tall, taller than Lord Celeborn even, and his frame was trim with a warrior's tone. Golden blonde hair flowed down to his waist like spun beams of sunlight from beneath the crown of holly leaves. A forest green tunic of Mirkwood silk hugged his well-toned chest and black leggings encased his long legs. His eyes were a strange blue with a tinge of green in them, they seemed to change in the flickering light and there was nothing dim about their piercing stare. Haldir felt as if Thranduil was seeing into his very soul, ripping his deepest secrets and desires from him.
Thranduil stood suddenly with a grace that made him seem unearthly. He glided over to where Haldir was standing before the flickering fire and began to slowly circle the younger Elf. "But I can read your deepest secrets and desires…" he purred into Haldir's ear as he reached under the light cotton tunic to caress one firm globe of his ass, "… Haldir of Lórien."
Haldir jumped like a green youth, partly from the firm, warm hand caressing him and partly from the King's ability to read his mind. The only other Elf he had ever heard of having this ability was Lady Galadriel.
Thranduil snorted as he removed his hand and moved to stand directly in front of the shorter Elf. "Galadriel is nothing special, young one. All the Noldor have this ability. She would just like her subjects to see her as some great mystic power. It feeds her ego. I always suspected that is why she married Celeborn; she could not bear the thought of having a husband who was her equal. It served her vanity to marry a `rustic'."
"Do not disparage the Lady Galadriel. She IS powerful. She bears the ring Nenya and surely, even you have heard of her mirror." Haldir retorted angrily in defense of the Lady of Lórien.
"Her mirror! Nay, Elfling, the mirror belonged to Melian long before it belonged to her. It is the Mirror that holds the power. She merely pours water into it and stands nearby as if she controls it, but it would show visions even if she no longer walked along these shores."
"What would you, a petty `rustic' King, know of the great Galadriel," Haldir spat back furiously.
"Know of her," Thranduil roared. The golden chalice struck the far wall and fell to the floor with a clatter as he threw it in anger. "I was there on the day of her birth. I watched her manipulate her brothers, always greedy for more. She has never tried to redeem any of her past deeds, yet SHE is given a Ring of Power and the chance to return to Valinor. While those truly repentant are cursed forever to these shores to wander in turmoil. Do not presume to tell ME about your precious Galadriel, Elfling, for I am not blinded by her beauty."
Haldir presented a brave front, but the King's fury was truly terrifying to witness. His eyes had darkened to a deep aqua and his face was flushed. He paced in front of Haldir like an animal that had been forced into a small cage. The Lórien Elf tried to comprehend the King's words with what he knew of the Mirkwood Elf. How could he be a Noldor? Everyone knew he was Sindarin, same as his father.
Thranduil stopped suddenly in front of Haldir, his features placid once more. He reached out to fondle a lock of Haldir's hair. "You have Vanyar heritage, young one. So soft…" The elder Elf stoked his slave's hair, as one would pet a faithful dog. He loved the feel of the silken mass as it slipped between his fingers. He listened in amusement to Haldir's mental musings. Dare he tell him? He had kept the secret for so long, even his own child knew nothing of his father's true nature. "I will tell you a story, Elfling. A passing fancy I wish to share with you. Come here." Thranduil turned and walked over to the great bed sitting on a raised dais on the back wall. He seated himself on the edge and watched Haldir as he walked over. He had a warrior's gait, Thranduil mused, as his body reacted to the flex and flow of the muscles in Haldir's legs.
Haldir stood before the Elven Lord trying to still his nerves. Showing weakness or fear to his enemy was out of the question, especially when that enemy was obviously mad. That thought made Haldir shudder. What depraved things would Thranduil visit upon him? He had forgotten that Thranduil could read his thoughts at will. The humorless smile that graced Thranduil's full lips quickly reminded him.
After removing his crown of leaves, Thranduil slowly pulled off his tunic and tossed it to the side. It was amusing to watch Haldir's eyes skim his chest, though the younger Elf tried to keep his reaction from his mind. The slight tenting in the front of his slave's tunic betrayed him more clearly than his thoughts could have. Thranduil reached under the tunic with lightning speed and wrapped his long fingers around Haldir's rapidly stiffening penis. The firm flesh beneath his fingers swelled and throbbed as he gently stroked it, alternating his rhythm. "Once there was a great Elf named Fëanor, who created the greatest jewels Arda has ever known - The Silmarilli. The jewels were stolen by a great evil. He and his seven sons went after this great evil to reclaim the Silmarilli."
Haldir knew this story, as did even the youngest Elven child on Middle-earth. He kept his hands fisted by his side, trying to concentrate on Thranduil's words instead of the delicious sensations the King was creating with his caresses.
Thranduil smirked as he ran his thumb over the tiny slit on Haldir's shaft, collecting the dewy drops of liquid and smearing them around the head. "Yes, Haldir. Every child knows that story. How Fëanor and his sons all met their doom. But what if one of them did not perish? What if this one Elf wandered into the wilderness half mad with pain? What if he had been found by a kindly Elf who took him in? What if the Noldorian Prince became a Sindarin Prince? Given a new name, a new home, and new kin."
Haldir whimpered as the strokes became firmer and swifter. His hips bucked in time with the rhythm of Thranduil's hand. The Elf King's words barely penetrated the haze of lust and pleasure that filled his mind. He was so close; the pressure was coiling deep inside him.
Thranduil studied his slave, freezing this moment as a memory to draw upon in the future. Haldir's head was thrown back, his eyes bare slits, full lips parted as whimpers and moans escaped them. Pale cheeks flushed pink with desire and glistening with sweat. His chest heaving in short gasps and he rocked slightly on unsteady legs, fists curled into the sides of his slave tunic. He was erotic beauty personified, and if Thranduil had not been aroused at this point, he would have become so instantly. "Yet, this Elf was denied the ability to go to his true home. Denied the ability to redeem himself, no matter how hard he tried to recant his past deeds. I am that very Elf and my name is - "
A loud cry was ripped from Haldir as his body was pushed into the abyss of ultimate pleasure. It rang out, drowning Thranduil's last words though Haldir's mind was distracted with savoring the many nuances of sensation to even think of hearing them. Collapsing when his legs would no longer support his weight, he crumpled to the soft, blue carpet and looked up at the King. The words spoken by said Elf finally filtering through his numb mind. "You are mad," he managed to say, as he fought to regain control of his erratic breathing.
Thranduil laughed bitterly. "Mad? You know not the depths of my madness. Wine does little to drown it, though I never give up hope that one day it will succeed. I collect jewels because for one brief second as I look into the fiery depths of a ruby or the soothing abyss of a sapphire, I am free from this unending desire to seek that which cannot be retrieved." His voice remained level but his eyes reflected his slight insanity. "Now I shall see if the perfection of your flesh can relieve me of this desire. Remove your garment, it is unworthy of your beauty and I will never again see you dressed in such common fabrics."
Haldir contemplated refusing the mad Elf, but knew in the end, Thranduil would win. Realizing that he was huddled on the floor, Haldir quickly regained his feet to stand proudly before the King once again. He removed his tunic, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall, swearing silently to himself that he would not lose control again. He would not give Thranduil the satisfaction of reacting to him.
Thranduil smirked as he reached up to caress Haldir's chest. He had read the younger Elf's thought as he trailed his fingers over the pale flesh before him. It reminded him of the marble statues in Eldamar, flawless in form yet unlike the stone, it was warm. Thranduil leaned forward trailing his lips over the hills and valleys of muscle, his tongue darting out for the occasional taste. The younger Elf's smell, taste, and feel filled the Noldo's senses pushing the pain of his curse to the back of his mind until it faded, giving Thranduil a respite. He stood so he could press against his captive, kissing the silken skin covering his shoulders while the taller Elf continued his tactile exploration. Threading one hand into Haldir's hair, the let his other hand roam the younger Elf's strong back, feeling the muscles jump and flex in response to his touch.
Haldir was struggling to control his breathing and heart rate with little success. Thranduil's essence was overwhelming him, his heady woody scent, the butterfly kisses of silk as his hair wisped across his face, the alternating pressure of light strokes and firm caresses. The heat of the taller Elf's body seeping into his skin doing little to still the passion chills that coursed through him. Haldir was drowning an undertow of erotic sensation and his mind screamed and railed against it. He didn't want to lose himself to this Elf. Would he remain Haldir of Lórien, guardian of the Golden Wood, Captain of the Galadrim army if he were to surrender to this Elf? By the Valar, someone save him from himself.
Thranduil pressed his forehead against Haldir's, cupping the shorter Elf's face with his hands. Golden hair mixed with silver as cobalt blue eyes locked with aquamarine ones. "We are always changed by those we meet in life, Elfling. For better or worse, they shape and mold us but rarely do they change at the core. It is said that only three individuals in an Elf's life have that power, his mother, his father, and his lifemate." He dipped his head pressing his lips against Haldir's, shocked when the younger Elf responded by opening his mouth. Thranduil grabbed the back of Haldir's head, preventing the Elf from pulling back as he ravaged his mouth.
Haldir kissed him back with equal fervor, his arms reaching up to wrap around the King, pulling him closer until their bodies were molded against each other. He moaned low in his throat, no longer caring if he were driven insane by this enigmatic Elf.
Thranduil reluctantly broke the kiss, stepping back to look at Haldir, his breathing coming in short gasps. "On the bed, little one." He watched Haldir comply while he slipped free of his leggings, he had removed his boots before his gift had arrived. He crawled onto the bed, settling his long frame on top of Haldir's. "So beautiful…" he murmured as he teased Haldir's taut nipples with his teeth and tongue. They looked like ripe berries floating in a vat of cream and tasted just as sweet.
A hiss escaped Haldir as Thranduil began to torment him. Pain and pleasure mixed, numbing his mind and silencing the nagging voice of his conscience. His body was in control and he moved with no conscious thought other than to melt into his lover. Haldir wrapped his long legs around Thranduil's hips and drove his hard shaft against the Elf-king's weeping cock. Hands drifted from the flexing muscles in the King's back to twine in the golden hair that cascaded down around them. Haldir slowly traced the ridges and crevices of Thranduil's ear with his finger, pleased to hear the Elf-king's control broken as a low moan rumbled from his throat.
"Elyë oloore, Telerea. [You {are a} dream, little Elf] Miire'nya [My jewel]." Thranduil whispered against Haldir's chest, not even realizing he had slipped into Quenya. He rose up on to his elbow and reached over for the small, crystal vial sitting on the small nightstand. Sitting back between Haldir's thighs, he maneuvered a pillow under the mewling Elf's bottom. He took a moment to appreciate the passion that gripped his young lover. Haldir's indigo eyes were glazed and his breathing was swallow. Silver hair fanned out beneath him looking like a halo of moonlight. Fists had moved to clutch the velvet bedcovers and he was bucking his hips slightly in a silent appeal for attention. Thranduil was more than happy to give it to him. He drizzled the sandalwood scented oil onto his fingers and reached between Haldir's lower cheeks to stoke the double ring guarding his passage.
Haldir tensed at the first tentative strokes of Thranduil's fingers. The Lórien Elf had always prided himself on being the dominant person in anything he undertook, whether it was the art of war or the art of love. He had never submitted to another, thinking it would somehow undermine his character. Fear of the unknown coursed through him as memories flooded him. The protesting cries of virgin lovers as he had taken them, whispering words of patience, telling them they would enjoy the act in a moment. The words were empty or were they? They had enjoyed it, hadn't they? His body craved the Elf-king's touch but his mind rejected it.
"Rest your mind," Thranduil's words were soft but a command lingered there. The younger Elf's mind stilled and he gradually relaxed as Thranduil continued to make slow circles around the taut rings. Finally, he was able to ease a well-oiled finger up to his knuckle before the rings clamped down tightly.
"Burns," Haldir hissed, trying unsuccessfully to pull away.
"Breathe, Telerea. Relax. It will pass. Tis not empty promises I give." Thranduil cooed as he stroked Haldir's hip with his free hand. The younger Elf released the lungful of air he had been holding and began to melt under his touch. Thranduil pushed further, seeking the small gland that would send Haldir into spasms of pleasure pain. He found it and pressed lightly.
"By the Valar!" Haldir bucked against Thranduil's hand seeking to feel the burst of sensation again. "Please." He didn't recognize his own voice as he begged. It was hoarse and broken.
Thranduil continued to prepare the virgin channel, using slow, tender strokes. He added fingers until Haldir accepted three with ease. The Noldo body was covered with sweat. His jaw ached from clinching his teeth, fighting his own needs. His cock throbbed painfully and he wanted nothing more than to be one with this charming captive of his. He felt the winds of destiny ebbing around him and knew that this would be no simple taking of pleasure. Did he dare hope that he was not forsaken completely? Was there a chance? The thought was stilled as he pressed his shaft into Haldir's tight passage. By the Valar, the heat nearly undid him.
Haldir groaned as Thranduil filled him, joining their bodies together. The burning was back, more intensely than before, and he wondered if he would survive it. Only the shadowed promises of more pleasure kept him from trying to fight the Elf-king off. And then the bolt of lighting shot through him as Thranduil's shaft grazed the spot deep inside him.
Thranduil balanced his weight on his elbow and reached between their sweaty bodies to grasp Haldir's erection, his lips meeting the full sweet lips of his lover, his tongue delving into the sweet recess they guarded. Tongue, hand and shaft moved in unison bringing Haldir and himself glorious pleasure.
Haldir wound his arms around Thranduil, trapped in an existence of passion, bliss, and joy. Was this how it felt to touch Eärendil?
"Yes, Haldir, for you are pure of heart and could hold that wonder in your hand," Thranduil murmured against his ear. "For me, there is only pain. Its beauty is my curse, but your beauty is my balm. Join with me, my sweet lover. Save me from this wretched existence."
Haldir arched against Thranduil as his words sent chills of pleasure sweeping through him. Insanity, his mind screamed, yet another part of his consciousness joined the fray. Softly at first then gaining volume until a single word roared in his mind - yes. And then he realized that he had spoken it, given his consent to join with the mad King of Mirkwood.
Thranduil released the floodgates of his soul at Haldir's acquiescence. There was a moment of confusion as their memories collided to mix until they were no longer two persons but one. Then, the jumbled chaos ordered itself and their shared memories remained separate yet accessible.
Haldir stared up at the Elf moving above him, the knots of building pressure unable to distract him from the images he had seen. The sweet ecstasy of fulfillment reached its crescendo and Haldir teetered on the edge. "You are really he," Haldir managed to gasp as he was carried away on a wave of pleasure. "You are -"
Thranduil kissed Haldir hard, silencing him as he pounded into his lover one final time, lost in his own pleasure.
They lay beside each other for a long time, neither of them speaking. Finally, Haldir turned wide-eyed to look at the golden-hair Elf beside him. "I… you are…"
Thranduil smiled and placed a finger to Haldir's lips. "I am Thranduil, son of Oropher, father of Legolas, King of Mirkwood, nothing more and nothing less. It is not time for me to be the other, but soon, my beloved, soon it will be."
~*~*~*~
April 6th 3019 Third Age - Center of Mirkwood
Celeborn eyed the delegation from Mirkwood uneasily. He and Galadriel had agreed to meet under a flag of truce to discuss the war of their two people. The world was changing now that the One Ring had been destroyed. Would this change include peace for them? As the group approached, Celeborn was shocked to see Haldir striding along side the leader of the delegation. He was dressed as a prince in silver armor, green silk cloak and a band of what looked like mithril upon his brow. The last Celeborn had heard, Haldir had been taken captive and given to Thranduil as a gift, a spoil of war. He had inquired about his captain when Prince Legolas had passed time in Lórien as one of the Ringbearer's companions, but the young Elf had refused to say anything other than Haldir was being treated well. He winced inwardly at the memories of the fight with Galadriel after he had made the decision to allow the Prince into the city. His eyes wandered to the taller Elf and realized it was Thranduil. He could see little of the Elf's features for they were hidden as always beneath a golden helm, which matched his armor.
"I greet you in peace, King Thranduil," Celeborn intoned as they now stood within feet of each other. Beside him, Galadriel snorted. She had not liked this idea either.
There was a low rumble of laughter from Thranduil as he turned his back on Celeborn and Galadriel to remove his helm and pass it to an attendant. "All these years and you still have not learned that you cannot always have your way. Really, Altariel, must you be so petty?"
Galadriel gasped at the sound of Thranduil's voice. "It cannot be!"
Celeborn looked at his wife in confusion. Her face was unusually white as if she had just received a great shock. If anything, she went paler and leaned against him. He looked up to see that Thranduil was facing them once again.
"Maglor," Galadriel gasped.
"Aye, cousin. Did you think me dead all these years? My soul lost to torment." Maglor raised one golden brow. He reached over to grasp Haldir's hand, seeking strength from his lifemate. He was rewarded with a gentle squeeze.
"You are still cursed, Maglor. The Doom is still upon you as is the oath you so foolishly swore," Galadriel spat seeming to find some inner reserve of strength. "You have no right to lead these people."
"Am I cursed, Altariel? Look into your heart and you will see that I speak the truth. Love, Altariel, not power or might, no ring or other trinket saved me. Love was my salvation and that is what Haldir has given me. I could have returned to Valinor at any time, but I chose to remain and lead my people against Sauron. Now I will stay until the last of them is ready to pass to the Undying Lands. But we are not here to discuss that, we are here to discuss peace."
Galadriel turned panic eyes towards Celeborn. "Do not listen to him, husband. I command you. He will doom us all."
Celeborn rubbed his brow in frustration as Galadriel continued to rant. He wished the Valar would cease her wagging tongue. Finally, he could take no more. "SHUT UP, WOMAN! I cannot think of anything while you are screeching like a shrew!"
Galadriel gasped. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner! I am Galadriel, a Noldorian princess and keeper of the Ring of Nenya!"
Celeborn rolled his eyes. "And thankfully the Valar have rescinded the ban placed on you, for I am looking forward to the blessed silence that will fill my days when you finally leave my side. Too many years I have tolerated your uppity ways. You will halt that waspish tongue of yours or I will do what your father, Finarfin, should have done ages ago and let you feel the flat of my palm upon your backside!"
Galadriel gapped a moment at her husband, her mouth hanging open in shock. Unable to think of a retort, she turned and left the glade with as much dignity as her shredded ego would allow.
"I think you will pay dearly for that, my friend," Maglor chuckled.
Celeborn shrugged. "Or I could get lucky and she will leave sooner."
"Shall we discuss peace then?"
Celeborn smiled and nodded. "Yes. Too long have we fought each other, it is time for peace."
The discussion was short, for neither had the real want for land or power. In the end, they split the forest between them and renamed the whole of it Eryn Lasgalen.
~*~*~*~
Maglor looked over at Haldir, who was curled against his side. "Have I told you how much I love you today?"
Haldir smiled slightly. "Yes, but tell me again."
"I love you, my sweet Prince. I will always love you until the final note has passed from between the lips of the Ainur."
"And I, you, my mad King."
The End
~*~*~*~
Műl - Sindarin word for slave
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