=0=Fortunate Son, Part Nineteen

He sighed, the hands stroking his back strong and experienced. Candle light flickered, adding a soft glow to the room and as he lay awash with sensation he could almost forget that in the morning he had to leave. They had lain down together, holding each other in the quiet of their last evening. Elrond was gentle, more gentle than ever before and Legolas absorbed every sensation he coaxed.

His own hands had roamed, sliding over smooth skin and firm muscle, lingering on scars both ancient and not so. His fingers threaded through dark hair, the texture recorded into his memories. He felt everything deeper and considered everything longer this night, their last.

They lay together side by side, kissing and touching, whispering to each other in ancient and almost forgotten tongues. Elrond spoke to him, telling him of his love, the Quenya almost musical to his ears. He didn't know every word and he cursed himself for not paying attention more closely to the tutors that he had as a child. The words were soft, almost like caresses and he listened to every syllable.

He whispered back, answering each declaration, each softly spoken promise with words of his own. They felt smaller, the poetry of Elrond's words eclipsing his own but they were equal in their passion. He sighed, raising his leg along Elrond's, pressing against him as he leaned forward.

Their lips met and there was silence, Elrond's hands caressing Legolas' back as he held the youngster. Legolas sighed against his lips, his eyes opening slowly. "Make me yours ..."

The fire that flared in Elrond was from another time, another place altogether. He hadn't felt this much need, this much possession in the entirety of his life and as he nodded, he kissed Legolas' lips with all his passionate desire.

The youngster groaned, turning as directed by Elrond's strong hands. He lay on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms and waited with eyes closed. Elrond sighed, running his fingers down Legolas' spine, smoothing them across the base of his back, up the swell of his ass and down the long soft lines of his legs.

He felt himself burning with need but he banked it, holding it back for the moment when he could unleash it in the beautiful body lying before him. He reached across Legolas and picked up a small vial, one he had brought with him moments earlier. It contained a special substance, fresh-smelling of meadow flowers but slick and oily in texture.

He kissed his way down Legolas' spine, lingering in the valley at its base, then moving on toward the firm flesh that beckoned him. He rubbed his cheek against them, pleasure surging through him at the answered sigh from his lover. He tipped the vial and poured a small drop or two onto his fingers, rubbing them together.

He lay his head on Legolas' back, kissing him softly and then reached for the place he needed. Legolas tensed and then relaxed slightly at the unfamiliar invasion of his body. Elrond sighed, the warmth rising up through him as the pleasure of this moment captured his senses.

Legolas sighed and relaxed as best he could, long effort by Elrond being expended for his comfort. For a moment it was alien and then it was comforting, the odd sensation of intrusion being replaced by a growing pleasure.

Over and over, the intrusion came and went, each time his own body relaxing more as the sensation became pleasant, even in a needy way. He considered in the fog of his growing passion that this was the last barrier between them. He was submitting to this with a willing heart, determined to find something that would be theirs no matter what happened next.

Another man was going to take him and he felt pleasure in the idea of it. Whether the pleasure of the action met his hopes and dreams was entirely in Elrond's hands. He didn't have a clue how to help him. He just knew he needed him and this moment desperately.

Elrond kissed his back, rubbing his cheek against Legolas' body as he made his lover ready for him. This gift was enormous, the significance more than apparent and he did all he knew from a lifetime of experience to ensure that Legolas would know pleasure.

Moving to rise, he pulled pillows to him, reaching under as he straddled Legolas to pull him to his knees. He slipped the pillows under him, pressing him gently down and then Elrond reached back, spreading his long legs apart. Taking the vial once more, he poured out a drop or two of oil, making himself ready as he stared down at his lover.

Legolas was lying quietly, his long golden hair sprayed around his face, his eyes closed as he waited. Elrond leaned down, kissing his cheek. "Tell me if I hurt you," he whispered, brushing golden strands away from Legolas' face.

"You won't hurt me," Legolas whispered, relaxing his body as he waited.

Elrond sighed and kissed Legolas' shoulder, lying down and reaching between them. He moved and found the place he sought, guiding himself slowly as he stared down at Legolas' face. As Elrond pressed forward, a slight grimace crossed that expressive face and as quickly as it came, it disappeared, a soft moan issuing from his lips.

Elrond sighed and moved forward again, slowly and inexorably making his way. Legolas gripped the sheets, sighing softly but he didn't speak, instead absorbing sensation as it rose in him. Elrond moved again, over and over until he could go no farther, relaxing against Legolas' back, his weight carried on his arms.

"I love you," Legolas whispered, his eyes flickering open. "I need you."

Elrond kissed his shoulder, rubbing his head against the soft silk of Legolas' hair. "I need you too."

"Then do it," Legolas whispered, his eyes closing once more.

Elrond sighed and began to move, slowly and carefully, his body pressed along the length of his lover. Legolas moaned, his breathing increasing as sweat began to bead on his face. Elrond felt it too, the heat between them and the sweat trickled down into his eyes. He closed them, moving more forcefully against his lover, reaching out and taking his hands into his own.

Legolas took it, the possession by his lover, the deep and emotionally raw moment searing itself into him. There were no other secrets between them, this intimacy marking petty all other things. He was filled and moved, Elrond's strength leeching into him, absorbed as he was taken by the other.

Elrond groaned, holding off as long as he could as he made the moment last. He felt all of Legolas at that moment, every muscle, every emotion and he took it in, desperate to know him in every way possible. Soon he would be gone and there would only be this moment, mocking him with its singularity as he faced the world alone again.

The light flickered, dancing off sweat slicked skin and as Elrond moved he felt his moment coming. He groaned, his muscles tensing and all of his control began to fray. He thrust harder, falling into his orgasm and as he shuddered, he whispered Legolas' name.

The youngster felt himself cleaving in two, the power of his lover almost overwhelming. He felt sensations he never known before and they welled up in him, eclipsing his conscience mind. He cried out, raising his head, his eyes closed in pleasure and pain.

Elrond squeezed his hands, shuddering through his orgasm, falling heavily on Legolas as he did. Legolas jerked, the fire behind his eyes flashing like a storm as he twisted to his own conclusion. Then it was quiet, the two lying together, Elrond's arms around his chest. It was silent a moment and then Legolas gripped Elrond's arms, drawing them tightly around him.

"Don't leave me now," he whispered. "Stay right where you are."

Elrond kissed Legolas' shoulder, holding him close. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm going to be here, Melme, as long as I can."

The room was still for a long time after that, the candles flickering against the darkness.

Haldir stood beside his horse, a grim look on his face. He hated this duty but he obeyed his king, riding to perform this delicate task for the Lord of the Wood.

Behind him, waiting too, were his men. They would take the Prince of Mirkwood to his kingdom, meeting a party at the edge of the great forest. He would be glad when it was over. The sadness that clung over all of them here was deep.

The door opened and a tall youngster walked out, dressed in riding clothes. He walked to his horse and mounted up, as behind him Lord Erestor, Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir stood watching on the steps behind him.

Nowhere to be seen was the Lord of the House, a fact not surprising to Haldir. He turned and mounted up, nodding to the party at the door. Beside him, riding with eyes fixed straight ahead, the pale and lonely figure of the Prince of Mirkwood passed the gates. Out into the world he went and when he was gone, only then did the saddened figures on the steps turn away.

On a terrace above them, watching as long as he could, Elrond stared. He felt nothing inside, so wounded was his heart and he wondered as he watched if it was possible to die of grief. He knew it was, the tales coming to him and as he stood he felt despair coiling around his heart.

They had made their goodbyes in private, holding to each other with a desperation he didn't know was possible. They had promised their hearts to each other and then Legolas had turned, walking out the door forever. He had stared, things dying inside of him and then he had turned to the terrace, straining for a glimpse.

Legolas was gone from sight, gone from his life and he knew that the best part of living was over. What would come from the next few years he didn't know. He just knew he had duty, country, responsibility.

He stood and stared, tears drowning his heart and as he did, winter fell over Rivendell.


He rode into the courtyard of his father's house, noting the figures of his parents standing on the steps. His brothers had met him, their cold eyes searching for changes in the callow and self-absorbed youth that they knew.

They found changes, he knew, but not the ones they had figured on. He barely acknowledged them, riding past them as they met the party from Lorien. Haldir watched him go, the surprise on his brothers' faces and knew it would be interesting that day.

They had parted and his brothers caught up, finding no audience for their jibes in the silent figure beside them. They had arrived and dismounted, Legolas walking toward his parents.

He bowed formally, staring evenly at both. His mother's tears would have moved him before but nothing could touch him now. He hugged her, holding her until she stepped back, her face filled with happiness at his arrival. Her smile faded as she stared into his eyes, seeing nothing but desolation therein.

He looked at her and then his father, nodding to them as they stood staring back. Then without a word, he turned and walked past, disappearing into the home of his birth.

The silence in his wake was deafening.


To be continued in Son Rise...