AN: Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review this story. I'm very glad you enjoyed it. Its sequel Hallowed Fate will follow shortly. I hope you will enjoy it as well.
Minas Tirith, Midsummer's Eve T.A. 3019
They came riding down the North-way to the City of the Kings. Shimmering in the twilight – an otherworldly sight to the citizens of Minas Tirith. There were few within who had seen the Firstborn in this wondrous guise ere this moment.
First to approach the city were two men of surpassing beauty whom many had seen walking the very streets of the city – the brethren Elladan and Elrohir. Right behind were many of the people of Rivendell, including the entire household of Elrond. They were led by valiant Glorfindel and gallant Erestor. The grey-cloaked Elven folk who followed hailed from the Golden Wood. The Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel rode at the head of their faithful Galadhrim, fierce warriors and lithesome maids alike.
Yet enthralled as the city's inhabitants were by the wondrous sight before them, many at once descried the graceful figure of the fair creature who would be their queen. Though she and her father rode at the rear of the long procession of Elves, her luminous loveliness drew the eye as a honey-pot lures bees. Was it any wonder that Elessar eagerly strained to catch a glimpse of her from afar?
He stood at the ruined gate of the city, flanked by the Princes Imrahil and Faramir and the other great lords of Gondor on the one side and Gandalf and his Quest companions on the other. As their king did, almost all hearkened to the Evenstar's allure. Almost.
Across the ever-shortening distance, a sapphire gaze met silver. Legolas had no eyes for any other but the comely Peredhel to whom he was espoused. In his opinion, naught was as beauteous as his Elrohir, not even Arwen be she hailed as Luthien returned. Save for Elladan mayhap, he inwardly amended with a smothered grin when a glance at Imrahil revealed the Belfalas prince to be staring quite raptly at the older twin.
He returned his gaze to the brethren. They were clad in white, the only other colors in their raiment the grey of their cloaks and the silver of the simple circlets upon their smooth brows. Above them fluttered a silver banner, its shaft resting in Elladan's firm grip. They appeared as they truly were – scions of the line of High-kings of the once exiled Noldor from two ages past.
Legolas licked his lips impatiently. Though only weeks had passed since Elrohir had departed with Elladan to meet their sister's escort, it seemed like years to the mercurial Wood-elf. Valar! How was he going to endure the decades of separation until Aragorn joined his fathers?
Though his face remained cool and impassive, his eyes blazed with fervent longing. The brethren came up to their king-brother. From atop his steed, Elrohir gazed down at his golden mate who was striving not to stare back far too obviously. A small smile curved the Elf-knight's sinuous lips and something glittered in the depths of his pewter eyes. Legolas caught his breath and felt his cheeks begin to burn.
Even late into the night, Minas Tirith seemed a-bustle with life and excitement, Elrohir thought as he gazed down upon the city from his bedchamber window. But that was not to be wondered at. The morrow would see Gondor's king wed to his long awaited bride. There was a future to look forward to. Gondor would not end with this generation of men but would see many more ages to come.
Elrohir smiled as he surveyed his foster-brother's domain. He would not see those ages unfold in the land of his birth but he was confident Aragorn would set Gondor on the path to glory and prosperity once more. In a sense, a part of him would remain in Middle-earth even after he left its shores. For he and Estel were sprung from the same seed. Come what may, there would always be scions of the Mariner in these Hither Lands.
He turned his head at the sound of the door opening. His smile widened as Legolas slipped in, clad in a thin tunic, long breeches and light shoes, his hair loose about his shoulders.
It was gracious of Elladan to yield his place to his law-brother. Private quarters were at a premium in the building that served as the royal residential pavilion at present. Only the king's immediate kin and the highest-ranking princes of Gondor had been given rooms within. The members of the Fellowship lived in a fair house where Legolas shared a room with his good friend Gimli.
Elrohir regarded his mate with pleasure. The archer's eyes were sparkling with anticipation. Elrohir laughed softly when he crossed the room swiftly to enter into his embrace.
But Legolas could not help his haste. The sight of Elrohir in an open shirt and nothing more was a temptation the archer was not inclined to resist. He happily pressed his body against the Elf-knight's, savoring the telltale hardness that pressed up against his groin. But first there was a question that needed answering.
He looked curiously at Elrohir, caressing the warrior's sculpted jaw with his fingers. "Did you speak to your father about – about staying on?" he murmured.
Elrohir nodded, dipping his head slightly to draw a finger into his mouth, sucking it gently. Legolas shivered at the sensation and wondered if his spouse would get around to telling him more before tumbling him into bed. But with a husky chuckle, Elrohir released him and tenderly kissed him instead.
"He was very happy with our decision," he said after a moment. "Ecstatic would be closer to the mark. I am glad we lightened his spirits for he has been weighed down for so long by Arwen's choice. When we broached our desire, he was more than willing to aid us."
"But how?" Legolas asked wonderingly. "Through whom did your adar course your plea?"
"Think you the Valar do not speak to the Peredhil?" Elrohir mildly chided him. "And my father is Eärendil's son after all." At Legolas rueful acknowledgement, he continued. "The answer came to him in a dream as is oft the case with my family. We need not sail with him at once. But," he cautioned at Legolas' initial response of delight, "neither can we remain indefinitely. That is not within the Valar's powers to grant."
Legolas frowned. "Then how long many you remain?" he pressed.
"Until Círdan takes leave of these shores."
"Aye. When he departs, so will the greater number of his people go with him. As will all who may still linger in Imladris. Elladan and I must depart with him then."
"And if you refuse?"
"Then we will be doomed to remain in Middle-earth forever," Elrohir said somberly. "'Tis a reprieve we have been given, Legolas, not a full lifting of the constraints upon our family."
Legolas considered this then grimaced. "'Tis better than for you to leave soonest," he whispered. "I will not complain but take what blessings the Powers can bestow on us."
"They have already bestowed upon me the greatest blessing I could ever wish for," Elrohir murmured. "They gave me the other half of my soul, my heart's desire. They gifted me with you."
"But I have also brought you pain and sorrow, Elrohir," Legolas sadly reminded him. "Through my willfulness, my rash decisions."
"Yet they are as nothing beside the joy and contentment you have given me," Elrohir countered. "I have not said this yet to you, my Legolas, but I am not only pleased to call you spouse but proud as well."
"Proud?" the archer repeated.
"Aye, beloved. You have grown to be everything that is good and noble and valorous in my eyes. Even your mistakes were born of your pure heart and your implacable honor." Elrohir stroked one fast coloring cheek. "How can I hold any of them against you? How can I not love you so?"
Before Legolas could reply, he pressed the archer against the near wall and preempted any speech with a searing kiss. Legolas promptly forgot what he had been about to say and hungrily returned the caress. He reached around and lazily unplaited the thick single braid that bound the twin's raven hair. He felt Elrohir's nimble fingers on his tunic, slowly undoing the simple clasps.
The warrior followed the path of his fingers, kissing and nipping at creamy flesh as it was uncovered. Nibbled at the archer's white throat when the high collar came undone, gripping a fistful of golden hair to gently compel Legolas to tilt his head back as he had done their first night together. The archer groaned as the Elf-knight's caresses lingered teasingly then moved steadily downward.
His tunic was pushed from his shoulders and pulled down his arms. At the same time, Elrohir engaged in a sensual assault on said shoulders before bending lower to invade the archer's chest. Legolas moaned with every suck and bite and lick, more so when Elrohir held him even closer to himself, trapping him in a steely embrace. Grasping hard at the twin's shoulders and arms he vaguely noted the loosening of his breech-laces and only realized they were undone when the garment sagged down around his hips then slid down his legs, pooling around his ankles.
The warrior dropped to his knees and nuzzled the golden curls that framed Legolas' now rigid length, inhaling his singular scent. The Elf-prince blushed at the gesture – there was something altogether intimate about it and Elrohir never failed to remind him of the fact that they did share the utmost intimacy. There were certain acts, whether carnal or not, that neither had ever performed with other lovers; deeds that bespoke their devotion to each other and now affirmed the eternal commitment that bound them together. A wordless language of love that only they could comprehend.
Hands holding Legolas' slender hips fast, Elrohir suddenly enclosed him between his lips, eliciting a hoarse cry from the prince. The warrior was not gentle in the least but drew upon him lustily. Such voracious suckling swiftly brought Legolas to his peak and he exploded with ecstasy, spilling his seed into Elrohir's mouth, making a litany of his mate's name.
Elrohir stripped his shoes and breeches from him then rose to his feet. Legolas leaned limply against him, clutching at him as the sensations of his spending slowly ebbed. He pressed his hot face into the twin's neck, kissing the sleek flesh affectionately. Regaining his breath, he drew back slightly to gaze at his beloved Elf-knight. Their mouths met once more.
Elrohir turned them about and backed him against the bed until Legolas felt its edge nudge the back of his knees. Only then did they break their molten caress as Legolas obligingly lay down upon the feather mattress. His eyes danced when Elrohir shrugged off his shirt and he held out his arms as the twin lowered himself upon the bed to join him.
Held firmly in Legolas' embrace, Elrohir bestowed a myriad kisses upon the archer's face and neck, some sweet and tender, others rough and demanding. Dropped the gentlest of caresses on his closed eyelids then pried his lips apart and pillaged the depths of his mouth. Drew a teasing tongue along the sensitive rim of the Wood-elf's ear then wickedly sucked hard enough at the pale flesh of his neck to both mark him and draw a sharp cry from him.
Panting harshly, Legolas rolled them over and proceeded to pay back his spouse in kind. Mimicked Elrohir's earlier ministrations until the warrior was arching up into his hands and mouth. Biting, sucking, licking, marking – leaving in his wake an ache that would be assuaged only by the most thorough of completions.
Elrohir briefly considered spending himself within the confines of Legolas' undoubtedly talented mouth. But only briefly. The need to be one with his ravishing mate was far more powerful. With a firm "Nay" he reached down and pulled Legolas up to lie by him.
The prince gasped as he was pressed down almost brusquely upon his back and his legs all but forced apart. His wrists were caught, pulled above his head and pinned there. He stared in mixed elation and apprehensiveness at the twin. Elrohir had long ago perceived his liking for some rough usage now and then. But the warrior had lessened this aspect of their bed-play in the aftermath of his mother's abduction and subsequent torment. It only resurfaced occasionally and mostly after a separation of some length or fraught circumstances such as in Edoras. Or when they faced an impending crisis as on their binding night – the very eve of the march to Mordor and almost certain doom.
"Speak not, melethron"—lover—the Elf-knight growled. "Only feel."
Without preamble, without so much as a warning, he pressed into Legolas, steadily filling him, ignoring the archer's shocked gasps and moans, the attempt to free his hands or the intuitive writhing of his body before so peremptory a breaching. Thickness counted as much as length and Elrohir was well endowed with both. It oft took Legolas several seconds to adjust to his lover's considerable girth. Ere long the twin was sheathed to the hilt, a gasping cry from Legolas telling him he was well and truly embedded. He looked down at the prince, waiting for his movements to subside, holding his own breathing steady.
Only when Legolas found the wherewithal to lock his legs firmly around his waist did he move once more, driving hard and deeply into the lissome form beneath him. Held down, the archer could only helplessly bear the bruising thrusts, acutely feeling each entry into his body as Elrohir had bid him. Yielding to the Elf-knight's rule over him.
He lost himself to the welter of sensations. Lay quivering with pleasure as he was repeatedly pierced. Felt the tight coil of rapture at the very center of his being begin to unravel. Emotion freely flowed between them – of love and lust and the need for oneness.
He cried out when he was clasped in a firm grip. His eyes snapped open to stare at his darkling lover. Elrohir now held his wrists in one powerful hand while with the other he stroked the slick flesh that prodded his belly.
Legolas inexorably came undone. Gasps escaped his lips before they were supplanted by moans and finally sobs. "Sweet Eru!" he almost keened. "I cannot take this! Elrohir, please, I cannot—!"
He was silenced by the Elf-knight's mouth upon his, denying him even that outlet for the outward expression of his pleasure. Perversely, this heightened it even further until he was just this side of screaming against Elrohir's lips. Invaded in body and heart, he soon knew the invasion of his thoughts as well.
Do you know how sweet you taste?
A demanding tongue swept the very reaches of his mouth.
How wanton you sound?
He whimpered desperately against the Elf-knight's lips.
How well you fill my hand?
Bucked as he was gripped and caressed and stroked without cease.
How beautiful you are when you enfold me in your soft warmth?
He shuddered in purest delight as Elrohir continued to plunge hard into his core.
As his impending release burgeoned, he clenched his muscles around the Elf-knight, which only served to draw Elrohir even deeper into his body. It was simply too much even for an Elf of Legolas' enviable tolerance for the extremes of physical satiation.
He shattered within. Broke into a thousand pieces as rapture swept through his entire being, leeching into ever nook and cranny of his tremor-wracked body. Copious spurts of pearlescent cream dappled their bellies as the archer surrendered to his climax. Legolas half-sighed, half-sobbed when he felt the liquid heat that filled him as Elrohir joined him in the joyful storm of their joint culmination.
For several moments, they lay quietly, limbs still entangled, bodies still joined, breaths mingling as they awaited the slowing of their hearts.
With any other, this forcible, almost brutal taking would have been tantamount to a violation. But Elrohir knew Legolas; had judged his beloved's needs well. Their reunion would be short-lived. There would be other even longer partings in the years to come including one that would have the whole of the sea between them. By staking his claim upon his mate in so masterful a fashion, Elrohir was in essence telling him that no matter the time or distance that might separate them, he owned him heart, body and spirit.
It was a statement that brooked no opposition. Legolas belonged to him. He could do as he wished to and with him in the privacy of their marriage bed. And he had the physical strength and compelling will to assert his primacy in their relationship if he so desired.
But he did not desire it. It was a statement and no more. And Legolas understood it, savored it, thrived on it. There was no more potent proof of love for so elemental an Elf as this forceful physical declaration of ownership.
At length, Elrohir gently withdrew from his prince and lay by his side, drawing him into the haven of his arms. Legolas nestled his golden head on the twin's shoulder.
"I will miss you terribly whenever we must part, melethen"—my love—he whispered.
"You are not alone in your fears," Elrohir murmured. "I have missed you every time we parted since your infancy."
Legolas lifted his head and stared at him. "Even then, Elrohir?" he said in mingled astonishment and gladness.
"Even then." The Elf-knight reached up and tucked a shining strand behind his ear. "Father mentioned that Mithrandir believed I belonged to you early on," he replied. "I think he was right. Else why could I not stay away from you even when there was enmity between our peoples?"
The archer's eyes moistened. "I had thought 'twas only I who felt so incomplete when we were apart," he admitted. "I never imagined that you might feel the same thing for a mere child." He hugged Elrohir fiercely. "I am glad you were given more time to linger here. I would build more memories with you until the time when they will be all I will have to sustain me. To keep my grief at bay."
Elrohir cupped his face in his hands and made him meet his eyes. "We will endure, pen vell"—dear one—he told the archer. "What are the years of Estel's reign, however long, to the eternity we will know together when you at last come home to me? We will part for a time but when we come together again, it will be for all the ages of this world and beyond, my Legolas."
He kissed the prince soundly, sealing their mouths in scorching union. With a moan, Legolas lay back, pulling Elrohir atop him. There was no need for words to tell his mate what he desired.
While the city below prepared for one union, they celebrated theirs to the fullest. Their bond had lasted for nigh a thousand years. Prevailed and flourished through the centuries. It would not falter now but would span the very life of Arda itself. And beyond.
adar – father
Peredhil –Half-elves/Half-elven (sing. Peredhel)