Dancing With Knives
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A hundred years. He had waited over a hundred long years to resolve the matter of his honor. The day was still clear to him, for time was nothing to one of the Firstborn. That fitful summer's day when the blond Elda had stepped into his father's kingdom and disgraced him was still very clear within his mind. He would never forget that lean, tall form and the cascading blond hair, streaming down to flutter along a trim waist; stray golden locks framed a face possessing pale skin, high cheekbones and blue eyes a shade deeper in hue than his own. He had thought of the face every night for the last century, etched the features into his memory, and he vowed to reclaim what honor had been so shamelessly stolen from him. Tonight would be his time.

As the procession from Mirkwood entered the valley of Imladris, guests for the Summer Equinox festival the Last Homely House was so famous for hosting, King Thranduil's youngest son, Legolas, remained unusually quiet as he brooded over his revenge. At the first chance that came upon him, he would cease the moment and not let it go, even if all the darkness of his green wood home were at his heels. A wicked smirk passed across his face, unnoticed by his father and the others in their procession, as thoughts of various ways to reclaim his honor and extract his revenge racing through his keen warrior‘s mind. His fingers tingled, knotting his reins as he imagine the leather strips to be the handles to his white knives. So immersed was he in his thoughts that Legolas nearly failed to notice the troupe of five riders trotting up to the procession until a flicker of golden hair caught his attention. Sapphire eyes narrowed as he observed the object of his immense dislike. Glorfindel, head of Imladris‘ border guard and one of the advisors to Elrond Peredhil, was speaking with his father.

"My lord Thranduil," the Elda greeted, bowing in respect as best he could in his saddle to the elven king of the north. "Welcome to the valley. Lord Elrond has been expecting you. Rooms have been prepared for you and your party for your stay here. Please, follow me. I shall escort you down to the manor."

"Thank you kindly, lord Glorfindel," the proud king replied, returning the bow with a slight inclination of his head before following the blonde the rest of the journey into the valley. Legolas remained stoic as he rode next to his father, the only one of Thranduil's three sons who accompanied him and did not have pressing matters in Mirkwood. His eyes remained fixed on Glorfindel's back, ignoring the beauty and serenity of the valley and the Bruinen that washed through it. All he could think about was the other blond elf and the redemption of his honor.

As they rode on, Glorfindel was well aware of the pair of eyes fixed heatedly to his back. He chose to ignore the young prince's look of scorn directed at him as he spoke with the king and other members of his party on the way to Imladris. For all the Elda's years, he could not understand why the prince disliked him so. He had only met Legolas once, long years ago, and they had hardly spoken. Not enough had passed between them for Glorfindel to understand what could be the cause of the prince's contempt for him. For the moment, the Elda decided to leave the matter be. There would be plenty of other opportunities during the Mirkwood party's stay for him to discover the origins of Legolas' distrust. For the time being, it was more important to see the guests to their rooms and check on the festival preparations. Perhaps later, after some rest, Glorfindel hoped the prince would become better company.

"Here we are, my lord," Glorfindel said, dismounting from his horse as they reached the entrance of the valley's manor. Servants and stable hands came to collect the steeds and luggage from the riders, taking them to the stables and the rooms. The lord of Imladris awaited the group just inside the manor entrance, accompanied by his sons and his second advisor, Erestor.

"Welcome, King Thranduil," the Peredhel lord greeted kindly. "I trust your journey was enjoyable."

"Aye, it was," Thranduil replied. "Uneventful, thank the Valar, but enjoyable nonetheless. The valley is truly a beauty for the eyes to behold." Elrond bowed in respect and thanks to his fellow elven-lord.

"Preparations for the festival are already underway. Perhaps you and your party would like to rest and freshen up before the evening's festivities? I shall lead you to your rooms so that you may do so."

"That would be most kind of you." With a nod of his head, Elrond began to show his new guests to their quarters. As he passed, Legolas threw Glorfindel the most heated and scornful look in his narrowed blue orbs he could manage before following his father and host. The elder blond suppressed a shutter from receiving such a cold, hard gaze directed at him from one so young. He couldn‘t ever remember anything, or anyone, able to make him feel so uncomfortable or unwelcome, even in his own home.

"Something the matter, mellon-nîn?" Erestor asked, stepping up to his side. He had noticed the prince eyeing Glorfindel during the introductions, but had not seen the looks the other advisor was given.

"The prince dislikes me. I know not why, or what I could have done, to bring such hatred upon me." He sighed; battling a balrog and returning from the Halls of Waiting suddenly seemed much easier than enduring Legolas' cold and calculating glances, no matter how brief they were. Erestor seemed a little taken aback by the confession.

"But, you do not know the prince. If I recall, you only met once when you brought a message to King Thranduil. The was some years again, and you tarried there only two days before returning to Imladris with the king's reply. What could you possibly have done to upset the Prince Legolas in such a short period of time?"

"As I said, I know not."

"Perhaps you should find an opportunity to discover the reason." Glorfindel nodded as Erestor echoed the thoughts ringing through his mind. He would find out, and soon before the idea gnawed on him more. The pair stood in silence a moment before parting to go their separate ways in order to finish their duties before rejoining at the evening festival.

~~~~~~~~~~
Even through the crowd of elves set before them, Legolas could not keep his eyes fixed anywhere but on Glorfindel's person. Throughout the feast and the dance that followed, the prince had listened to any conversation involving him with half an ear, occasionally nodding in agreement to something that was said or smiling at a jest, but otherwise ignoring what occurred around him. His entire mind was filled with the elder blond, and the price he needed to pay for disgracing the prince. But, Legolas knew, the price would have to be paid later, in private, once the festivities were over. No one else need know of what would occur between the two of them.

Glorfindel, for his part, found it increasingly uncomfortable to keep his back to the prince, but he reasoned that it was even more uncomfortable to face him and try to stare down the deadly glare. More than once did he try to hide his person from Legolas' sharp eyes, taking a seat in a dark corner with the floor full of dancers, or engaging himself in a conversation that was far from eyesight. But, each time, he had failed as the prickling feeling of a gaze fixed on him was felt.

"What history do you share with the youngest prince of Mirkwood, Glorfindel?" Elrond had asked him earlier in the evening at the end of the feast. The lord of the valley had pulled his old friend aside to question him as others began to seek out partners for the first dance of the evening. His voice was low as he spoke to his advisor, curiosity laced with cautiousness filling his voice. "His eyes have been trained on you ever since he arrived into Imladris earlier today. I dare say those are not friendly eyes either. Tell me what it is you have done, meldir?"

"I know not, my lord," Glorfindel had replied as he shifted uneasily in his seat, briefly noting Elladan trying to engage the prince in a talk about archery. "I know the prince little. Nay, I should say I know him not at all. My last visit into Mirkwood was brief, and much time has passed since then. Indeed, there was no time at all during my stay to become acquainted with the prince."

"Do you intend to discover the source of the prince's dislike?"

"Aye, my lord. It troubles me that I might have offended someone without my knowledge. If that is so, I would like to discover the reason so that any indecencies may be corrected." Elrond had simply nodded, watching as his twin sons succeeded in engaging the young prince in a lively conversation. But, it did not last long, for soon Legolas was back to haunting Glorfindel with his sharp gaze.

Deciding he needed a bit of air, and an excuse to get away, Glorfindel pardoned himself from his lord and the feast, making his way towards the gardens. The warm summer night air hit him sharply, lifting golden locks into the wind as he strolled through the grass and trees, unaware of a form following him silently. Stopping beneath a willow tree near the Bruinen, the Elda took a deep breath, inhaling the damp air of the river emitting from the waterfall that cascaded nearby. The mist was cool, sending small shocks of a tingling feeling through his skin. Through it all, he became aware of a presence approaching him. He turned sharply on his heels, none too surprised to find Legolas standing behind him.

The prince stopped as Glorfindel turned to him, a hand lightly planted on one hilt of his twin knives, still sheathed at his back. He wore them out of formality, just as he concluded that Glorfindel wore his sword at his hip. But, tonight, the weapons would be put to use; Legolas would see to that.

"Is there something I can help you with, Prince Legolas?" Glorfindel asked, noting Legolas' eyes roaming over the blade hanging from his side. Sapphire orbs snapped up at the sound of his voice, the gems radiating coldness and hate.

"I believe there is something you can help me with," the prince replied, unsheathing one knife, the blade glistening in the pale moonlight. The Elda took an unconscious step backwards, one hand straying to his sword's hilt, but doing nothing more. "There is a small matter that needs to be resolved between us."

"And what matter would that be?" A scowl creased the prince's stunning features. Legolas was certainly a beauty to behold, Glorfindel noted to himself despite the current situation.

"Do not play games with me. You know quite well how you dishonored me so many years ago."

/So, it is a matter of bruised pride/, Glorfindel thought. /However, prince, I do not recall ever tainting your honor. You must enlighten me a little more on the matter./

"And, how is it, that I came to disgrace you so callously?" the advisor asked. If it was even possible, more hatred seemed to pour from Legolas' gaze, as if a stare alone could burn right through Glorfindel's person.

"I need not answer that," Legolas hissed. "You should already know the answer quite well. Though, I believe we have discussed the matter enough." He then proceeded to unsheathe his other knife, the blades tinkling slightly as they were crossed before their owner. "I came here to claim back my honor, not debate the matter of how it was tainted."

"I do not believe we should be doing this," Glorfindel tried to reason, but to no avail. He barely had enough time to draw his sword from its scabbard and parry the prince's first blow. The younger elf was stronger than Glorfindel had reasoned him to be. It took more than a little of the Elda's strength to push Legolas back.

"I care not what you believe or think." The Elda didn't have time to reply as another swipe of a knife barely missed his neck; he took a step back and out of the way. There was no further discussion after that. Legolas was focused on his target, and his target was focused on staying alive.

They danced the dance of warriors sparring one another, each receiving and giving blows with practiced ease, and elven grace. Legolas seemed almost animalistic in his attempts to mar Glorfindel's person. A feral quality remained in his sapphire orbs as the exchange of blows continued. Through it all, Glorfindel became impressed with the prince's skill and grace, even as he tried to counter each blow without harming himself or the prince. If they were not battling for their lives, he would have dearly been delighted to spar with the prince in practice and observe the feline grace the younger elf exhibited.

A stinging sensation began to fill Glorfindel's left bicep; he barely registered the shallow cut a knife had created there, enough to draw a thin trail of blood, but nothing more. Deciding the duel had gone on far too long already, the more experienced warrior hefted his sword in one hand, swinging it in a graceful arc, which allowed him to disarm his opponent in one blow. The knives went sailing into the air with a whistle, stabbing into the ground some feet away. Before Legolas could move to retrieve them, Glorfindel had abandoned his own sword. He ran straight for the other blond, grabbing both of his wrists, and pinned Legolas to the willow behind him.

Taken off guard by the sudden movement, Legolas struggled against the firm grasp on his arms, trying in vain to twist them out of Glorfindel's hold. It was no use; the Elda was far stronger and more experienced in combat. The only course of action the prince could see before him was to raise his voice in alarm, and hope someone would hear him. It would have become apparent to everyone, then, that something had transpired between the two. Perhaps in tarnishing Glorfindel's reputation, Legolas could reclaim his own. Legolas opened his mouth, and took a deep breath. But, no sound was made, for Glorfindel was much quicker.

Lips collided as the Elda pressed his mouth against the prince's to drown out the shout he would have made. It had been the only thing the advisor could think of when he had realized what Legolas was about to do. With his hands restraining the prince, he could do nothing but kiss the younger elf to keep him silent. The body restrained by his own froze at first contact, then began to squirm to get away. After a few moments struggle, the prince fell still again before a long moan of longing issued from deep in his throat. Glorfindel released him when he felt sure Legolas would not yell for someone.

"So, you best your enemies by trying to entice them?" the prince said, scowling, though his look was not as harsh as it had been. In fact, the eyes held less hatred and more desire after the kiss had ended. His voice, as well, had become a tone deeper when he spoke.

"Hardly," Glorfindel replied. "But, I am resourceful in a number of ways."

"Oh? In what ways?" A casual shrug.

"Lots of ways."

"Show me then." A delicate eyebrow arched elegantly. This wasn't exactly the way Glorfindel had in mind to curb the prince's hatred for him.

"I don't think that's appropriate right..."

"I care not. Show me." The Elda swallowed. As far as he could reason, he only had two options in the present situation. Either he walked away from the moment, bringing further hatred upon him from the prince. Or, he showed Legolas just how resourceful he could be. Legolas answered his personal debate for him. "Either show me, or we can repeat this all over again a hundred years from now. But, I warn you, I won't be so willing next time. Next time, I'll consider the offer...after I've taken your head."

"Very well, if that is your command."

"It is." The discussion was over. It was time to begin the second dance of the evening. Another sheering kiss as hands fumbled to rid the other of his clothing. Legolas arched his head back as Glorfindel's lips came to rest against the pulse point at his neck, sucking lightly at the skin. A groan of tormented pleasure left the younger elf as he surrendered himself to the sensations, his blood flowing downwards to pool at another, quickening pulse point. His hips bucked involuntarily as one of the Elda's hands lightly skimmed the bulge through the fabric of Legolas' leggings.

"Are you sure about this?" Glorfindel asked again, a little hesitant about what they were doing. Even with the prince‘s consent, his conscience was still a little reluctant. "I might disgrace you further if we continue. I..."

"Will you shut up?" Legolas nearly hissed in frustration. "Elbereth alive, put that mouth to better use!" Now, the discussion was truly over. With the prince's words--nay, command--thus spoken, Glorfindel surrendered himself to his task. With a flick of his wrist, Legolas' leggings were undone and cast aside; his own followed a moment later as the prince gave him the same treatment. A moan left both pairs of moist, parted lips as their naked bodies slid together like liquid silk. They kissed again, tongues exploring the open cavern before them, teeth nipping lightly against kiss-bruised lips.

Glorfindel broke away to discover more of the creamy pale planes before him. He nipped lightly at a collarbone before he moved lower, the tip of his tongue leaving a single wet trail in his wake. The feel of the cool evening air slapping against his now dampened skin sent shivers of delight through Legolas' form, causing him to grow even more aroused. He bit back a scream when he felt Glorfindel's lips ghost against the head of his erection, before it was swallowed whole in one quick motion. The Elda had a skilled tongue, which he now used to swirl around the base and head of the younger elf's member, rasping his teeth lightly against the heated column as he pulled away, and came back down again.

Legolas' mind was in utter and complete chaos. He couldn't think straight beyond the dazzling array of sensations he was feeling, sensations the other elf was eliciting from him. He forgot entirely about his revenge, all Legolas cared about now was this joining. Arching his back, he desired to push himself as far into that skilled mouth as he could, but he was denied as Glorfindel suddenly pulled away. A hiss of frustration issued from his lips as he pounded a fist into the ground, lifting his head high enough to glare at the Elda. The other blond simply smiled in return.

"We're not done yet, ernil-taur," he said coyly, planting soft kisses along Legolas' jaw when he was done speaking. At the same time, the Elda slipped two fingers into the prince's mouth, which the younger elf sucked eagerly. He ran his tongue along the pads, feeling the faint calluses settled there from hours of practice with a sword. The simple act produced a moan from Glorfindel, which Legolas smiled in delight at as the fingers were withdrawn, only to pause at his entrance. A finger wiggled in, gently stretching Legolas without hurting him. It was joined by a second, both working to scissor and stretch him as much as they could. The sensations were delightful, causing the prince to crave even more of the touches. Seeing the longing look in his face, Glorfindel complied, removing his fingers and replacing them with his own achingly hard member. Slowly, he began to push in past the tight ring of muscle, stopping only when he was fully sheathed.

The pain was momentary, and was nothing uncomfortable. Soon, Legolas was rotating his hips, silently asking for Glorfindel to move. The Elda did so, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. He repeated the motion, picking up speed with each thrust. A cry from the prince told him he had found the younger elf's hidden spot. Angling himself, Glorfindel aimed for the same spot with each of his thrust. Wanting to feel more of the dazzling sensation brought on by his movements, Legolas raised his hips, pushing against Glorfindel with each of the other blond's thrusts. Their desire was mounting, bringing them ever closing to the breaking point. And then, in a mind blowing explosion of stars and heat, they came together, spilling the evidence of their joining in creamy waves.

Exhausted but satiated, Glorfindel pulled away slowly, collapsing onto his side next to the prince. Legolas rolled over, pushing back against the Elda until they were spooned together. Warm, strong arms encircled his toned, slim waist, and he sighed in pleasure. Silence settled in between them as they lay together for a moment, drinking in the other's presence after their lovemaking. It was Glorfindel who broke the silence after a time.

"Legolas?" said a whisper in his ear, the tip of a tongue darting out momentarily to moisten the tip of a pointed ear. The prince shivered faintly at the touch before replying.

"Hm?" He smiled as he felt the hands gliding through his hair, toying playfully with one of the braids.

"Tell me something."

"Yes?"

"Just what did I do to disgrace you a century ago? I've wracked my brain all day, and I still can't come up with an answer." The silence that followed his words unsettled Glorfindel. Supporting himself on one elbow, he leaned over the prince to peer into his face. The Elda's eyebrows shot up when he caught sight of the sheepish grin that had planted itself on the young elf's face. A faint blush stained the creamy cheeks and tips of the pointed ears. Sensing eyes on him, Legolas looked up at Glorfindel, the blush deepening ever so slightly when their gazes locked.

"I...er...forgot." Glorfindel blinked.

"You forgot?" A nod. He couldn't believe it. Here he had gone all day, worrying himself over the prince and what he had done. They could have killed each other earlier over the matter of the prince's honor. And, he had forgotten what had caused the whole incident in the first place?!

"Why you little..." Glorfindel began to grapple with the prince, who playfully fought back. Smiles spread across their faces as peals of laughter began to fill the air around them. They ended up in their original position five minutes later, Glorfindel on top, and their lips locked in a passion-filled kiss.

Breaking away, they grinned at one another, foreheads pressed together. Then, in one fluid motion, Glorfindel got to his feet, pulling Legolas up with him. They each redressed, smoothing their hair and clothing until they were presentable again. After another kiss, the light of which dimmed even the stars, they returned to the feast, hand-in-hand. Whatever honor had been tainted was now resolved, and a new alliance made from the dances that had been displayed that night.

Translations:
Mellon-nîn-My friend
Meldir-Friend
Ernil-taur-Forest prince, prince of the forest

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