One Step Closer
Beta: Silvara
1: hear me out
Elrond sat at the desk in his private study. The Council had gone somewhat better than he had hoped. They would destroy the One Ring. All he had to do was choose the nine to go on the Quest.
He rubbed his temples. He knew who he wanted to send. It wasn't difficult for him. The Dwarf, Gimli, would go. Frodo and Sam already agreed and so had Gandalf. Aragorn and Boromir would travel as far as Minas Tirith and that left three positions. The cousins of Frodo would do, he supposed... but the Elf...
Legolas. He had arrived a few days prior to the Council. Elrond stood and walked to the small balcony outside the study and looked out over the main lawns of The Last Homely House. He could see the Hobbits and the Men on one of the lawns, playing some game to pass the time. Casting his eyes to the farthest corner, he saw his sons and the gleaming head of gold between them.
His sons would never forgive him. His lover would never forgive him. Had five centuries really have passed them all by? Elladan and Elrohir had had five hundred years with their lover, would that have been enough if the Elf should fall while fulfilling his task in the Quest? Would his sons survive the loss of Legolas? So many questions, but he had no other choice. Legolas was the right Elf to send with the Company, there was no other way.
Thranduil should be here, he thought. He should see his son before the Prince leaves. Elrond chewed his lip. The Mirkwood King would be furious. His love for Legolas was almost an obsession. Their bond was strong and Thranduil would feel this was a betrayal by the Peredhel. What neither his sons nor his lover would understand was how much his own heart broke at the mere thought of Arda losing the light that shone in Legolas. The Imladris Lord had grown to love the Sinda Elf as if he were his own child.
He could not put this off any longer. Elrond allowed his mind to become clear, his breathing to calm and cast himself out to the East, to a lonely, dark Wood where his love resided.
Erestor entered the study, carrying several books and scrolls. The Councilor opened his mouth but shut it quickly. Elrond stood on his veranda, still and quiet, looking out over the land. The dark-haired Noldo approached his Lord carefully and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the metallic quality Elrond's grey eyes had taken. The Peredhel was speaking to Galadriel or Thranduil.
Elrond knew Erestor had seated himself a few feet away, but he was otherwise engaged.
Thranduil, you must calm yourself.
Calm myself?! Elrond, you cannot do this.
I do what is necessary to save our world, melethron.
At the expense of my son!
I look upon him as my son, as well, Thranduil. Do you think this was simple for me to decide?
Have you told him?
Not yet. I don't want to until we are ready to send them on the Quest. But, I wanted you to know from me, not a messenger or through gossip.
Well, thank you for that courtesy.
Elrond flinched at the tone Thranduil's thoughts had taken. The brief mental images he received did nothing to settle his conscience, either. I am sorry, seron vell.
There was no reply, no thought of love or parting, just an emptiness where his love had severed their connection. He blinked a few times, clearing the doubts from his eyes and turned a sad smile to Erestor. "Thranduil will arrive within the week. Please ready his room."
Erestor looked at his friend with an odd expression. "Meldir, Thranduil has not used 'his room' in centuries beyond counting. He shares your suite."
Leaving the balcony, Elrond sighed. "Not this time."
Thranduil urged his horse into a full run, trying to reach Imladris by sundown. He knew the stallion was exhausted, but he needed to see Elrond, needed his son. He had been ignoring Elrond's gentle attempts to speak with him, his anger clouding rational thought. As he crossed the borders of Rivendell, though, the gentle attempts became one massive push that nearly caused him to pass out.
Thranduil! You will listen to me, or I will have you barred from these lands!
Thranduil bared his teeth, his now silver eyes gleaming in the dying sun. Try it, Peredhel, and I will be back with an army. He made sure his thoughts swam with red mist, that his mind-voice growled with pent-up rage.
Do not presume to threaten me, King of Mirkwood!
I presume nothing.
You will behave while in this House, Thranduil. I am not prepared to tell Legolas this decision and you will not do so before I have had a chance to speak with the boy.
How dare you tell me what I shall and shall not do, Half-Elf?
I dare because I love you as much as I love Legolas and this is difficult enough without you storming in here and raising havoc where nerves are already frayed. Now, swear to me you will abide my wishes or I will have you turned back now.
Thranduil sent a wordless reply of agreement and felt Elrond recede from his mind, leaving him in relative peace.
Elrond Peredhel. Thranduil's emerald eyes glittered with repressed emotion. It physically pained him to be so furious with the Half-Elf. Their bond was strong. Although he had thought to bind himself to Elrond on that long-ago night in Imladris when he found the dark- haired Lord with Gil-Galad, it was too late. His faer had found its mate in Elrond and they were forever tied. Over the last five hundred years, that bond had been reinforced and strengthened.
How the Imladris Lord could, in good faith, send Legolas on a mission that would surely claim the Elf's life... Thranduil spurred his mount on, determined to stop Elrond from making one more mistake in a long line that Elrond repeatedly made in the name of what he believed was right.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not realize that he had crossed the borders into the Imladris-controlled lands. When he heard the rustle of motion, his hand went immediately to his sword. Then Glorfindel and Elladan appeared from out of the woods, and Thranduil relaxed, feeling a little embarrassed at being so jumpy. The escort took up their positions on either side of him and brought him to the stables in silence.
"My Lord Thranduil, what has brought you to Imladris?" Elladan finally said once they had reached their destination.
"I have come to speak with Lord Elrond," he said simply, dismounting quickly though gracefully. "Where is he?"
Glorfindel's blazing gaze met the King's. "He is in his study, Thranduil," the Balrog-slayer said tensely. "Follow me." The Elda turned to led Thranduil to Elrond when he noticed Elladan following them. "Elladan, your presence here is not required. Go back out to finish the patrols or assign someone else to do it. I care not."
Elladan looked stunned. Glorfindel had never spoken to him in such a short, clipped tone, and it irked Elladan. He glowered at his old tutor and stormed off in the direction of one of the Eastern gardens that he knew Legolas and his twin frequented.
Thranduil walked in step with the Imladris Seneschal. "Is there something wrong, my Lord?" he inquired.
"Wrong? What could be wrong, Thranduil? Elrond has decided to send your son, the twins' love, off on some foolish quest that is likely to get all nine of them killed. In his infinite wisdom, our Lord has decided a Mirkwood Elf who has spent his two thousand odd years of life defending your Wood is equipped enough to represent our entire race. So, you ask if something is wrong and I must say yes, meldir."
Thranduil was silent for a moment, considering the words just spat at him. "Do I detect notes of bitterness, Lord Glorfindel?"
"No."
"I think I do. You are offended Elrond did not ask you."
Glorfindel stopped in front of the massive carved oak door and motioned for Thranduil to enter. "I hope your stay in Imladris is productive, my Lord." With that, the golden-haired Elf turned on his heel and walked swiftly away.
"So, let me get this straight. You are sending my son -- my youngest son, heart of my heart, and incidentally, your sons' lover -- to the stronghold of Sauron in possession of that which the Dark Lord desires most. To accompany him, you are sending the son of the Steward of Gondor, the rightful heir to Gondor (and your daughter's betrothed), a grubby little Dwarf who happens to be the son of Gloin -- a famous grubby little Dwarf, a 'relative' of Bilbo Baggins, his two cousins, and his gardener!"
Elrond's voice was meek in the large room. "Technically, Legolas would be accompanying Frodo. Frodo is the Ringbearer."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "You gave. The Ring. To the Hobbit?!"
"He volunteered."
"Of course he did! He's Bilbo's relative! That damned Halfling was the greediest little snake I ever met!"
Elrond looked up with a sudden spark of remembrance. "Mithrandir's going with them, as well."
"Mithrandir?! That scheming little wizard? Bah! Parlor tricks and fireworks are supposed to keep those nine safe all the way to Orodruin?"
The Lord of Imladris hung his head again. "Seven. The Men are only going as far as Minas Tirith."
"You didn't think this through very well, did you?" Thranduil threw his hands up in frustration. He turned his back on his lover and said, without looking at Elrond, "Tell me why I should not grab my son, ride back to Mirkwood, lock my realm up tighter than Moria, and prepare to send my army out to begin the next Kinslaying."
"Because you trust me." The statement was presumptuous, egotistical, and arrogant. It was also true.
Thranduil still did not turn around. "Yes. I trust you, meleth. Of course I do; I love you. That does not mean that I have to like you very much right now. Or indeed, ever again."
Elrond watched helplessly as the Mirkwood King strode out of the library as though he was being chased by a horde of Balrogs.
Thranduil more or less kept his own counsel over the next two weeks, although Legolas was seen with him often as well. The two Mirkwood Elves did not consciously avoid the Imladris ruling family, but neither did they go out of their way to spend time with their respective partners.
Which is why the King was so surprised when Elladan and Elrohir sought him out during a walk through the orchards. The two approached slowly, unsure of Thranduil's mood or receptivity to company. When they were close enough to not have to shout, Elladan ventured, "My Lord Thranduil, might we steal a few moments of your time?"
Thranduil sighed, although he was inwardly thankful of the opportunity for some company. Most of those in Imladris knew of his relationship with Elrond, had gleaned their recent falling-out, and were consequently avoiding the Sinda. A chance for contact with someone other than his son was quite welcome, therefore.
"It is about your son," Elrohir clarified.
Thranduil realized he had been ruminating and had not responded when Elladan first spoke. He cleared his throat. "Of course. Legolas. What can I help you with?"
The twins looked between themselves, not certain of where to begin. Elrohir finally said, "We continue to hurt him, and we know not why."
"He envies our connection, we know," Elladan continued, "but this feels like more than just that."
"He's holding something back from us. We don't know what."
Thranduil nodded with a heavy sigh. "You are describing Oropher's Curse, I'm afraid. That is the name we give to this malady that plagues all the males of my father's line. We are glacially slow to give our hearts to anyone, and even then, we only give by halves. The fear of rejection seems destined to be bred into the descendants of Oropher until the end of Arda."
"Is there aught you can say to assist us? We fear that we will be parted soon, and we do not wish that parting to be on poor terms."
Thranduil started at Elrohir's words. Did the younger twin suspect the King's true reason for being in Imladris? Thranduil did not think so, but he still avoided responding to that line of thought. Instead, he focused on the first part of the Peredhel's statement. "Frankly, I am surprised that Legolas shows as much attachment to you as he does after such a relatively short time. I had hopes that he would not be affected as I was by the curse of my father. Alas, it seems not to be. In such a case, the only thing I can offer you is this: my son is very bright. He will realize soon enough how important you are to him and he to you. He is too smart to allow such a meaningful relationship to be tossed away."
The twins bowed their heads, touching their hands to their foreheads and chests. "Thank you, Lord Thranduil," they said together, turning around and walking back toward the gates of the orchard.
Just before they left the close quarters of the sparse opening, though, Elladan stopped and turned around. "My Lord?"
"Yes?"
"We think you're quite bright yourself." The elder twin turned around again and sprinted after his brother.
Thranduil smiled softly and turned to leave the courtyard as well. His thoughts drifted to his son. The great king felt that some of Legolas' faults were because of him. Legolas had been an unexpected child, one that Thranduil nor his wife had tried to conceive. There was a large age gap between his middle and youngest son, and Thranduil had spoiled Legolas. His wife had coddled the Elfling and Thranduil had given into any and all of the small child's demands.
He was sure that over the centuries Legolas had equated love with undivided attention. That was what Thranduil had given him. It was only when he took Elrond as his lover once again that he made the discovery that Legolas had a warped sense of love and affection. And it was his fault.
The King sighed. Hopefully, the twins could undo his years of damage. He had thought he was doing right by his youngest, especially after his wife had left for Valinor. Legolas was still but a child and needed the reassurance only Thranduil could offer. Now, not only was Legolas paying for the twisted upbringing, but so were Elladan and Elrohir.
Elrond sat in the rapidly cooling bath water, unashamedly brooding. The One Ring was within his realm, and the forces of Sauron were no doubt gathering near. Should he delay his decision in sending it on, Imladris would be besieged. But if the Company he tapped for the quest were not ideal, he would be handing the Ring over to the Enemy.
And then there was Thranduil. His lover was sleeping several doors down from his chambers: alone. The last words they shared were in anger. He couldn't say that he blamed the Mirkwood King; if Thranduil planned to send any of his children on a dangerous quest, Elrond knew that he would be more than a little upset as well.
But, Elbereth, it was hard being so close to the Elf he'd loved for so long and not be able to hold him or even touch him! The Peredhel Lord had taken to wearing robes that were a size too large for him to hide the near-constant state of arousal that he was in just knowing that Thranduil was near.
Even now, he could feel himself stiffening under the water as memories came unbidden of past pleasures with the beautiful Sinda in this very room. He shifted, and a sudden current of warm water washed across his cock, making Elrond shudder. He brushed his fingertips across the tightly stretched skin and felt another satisfying shiver pass through him. He made his decision quickly, sliding up onto the carved seat inside the bathing pool. He was certainly not above a little self- love, and if it would ease the tension he was feeling, so much the better.
He began with long, slow strokes from the head all the way to the base and back up. The motion sent eddies of water swirling across his skin, made sensitive by his heightened arousal. He stroked himself this way for several minutes, keeping his grip loose, savoring the gentleness of the sensations.
Gradually, without any clear transition, he began to tighten his grip and stroke only the shaft of his cock. His head fell back in pleasure, and his eyes closed. Images floated through his mind as he sped up his motions: Thranduil's hands, Thranduil's mouth, his chest, his arse. Thranduil pleasuring him; himself pleasuring Thranduil. No other lover had as totally captured his heart and mind as the Mirkwood King had. He was the only one that Elrond hungered for, the only one that Elrond could imagine himself with any longer.
Soft moans punctuated Elrond's breathing as he worked his hand frantically along his shaft. In his mind, he imagined Thranduil's hand in place of his own, imagined that he could feel the Elf-lord beside him, whispering words of love into his ear. Elrond whispered his lover's name like a mantra: "Thranduil. Oh, Thranduil."
His eyes were clenched shut so tightly that tears began to squeeze from the corners of his lids. His entire body was trembling, and his breath was coming in swallows and gasps. Elrond could hear his heart pounding in his ears like Orc drums. He held himself at the moment of release as long as he could stand, then let himself go with an enormous cry of rapture. His cock twitched and pulsed under the water, sending streams of his seed to mingle with the bath.
Elrond struggled to pull himself from the bathing pool. His energy was drained, and his body was sated. His mind, though, drew very little comfort from the act. As he dried himself off and walked to his bed in the other room, all he could think, over and over, was that he had to reconcile with his lover, no matter what the cost.
Thranduil came into the cool courtyard, turning his face toward the sun and inhaling the deep, refreshing crisp air. He and Elrond usually shirked responsibilities on days like this and walked through the wooded areas around The Last Homely House. Or, they would if Thranduil would at least speak with his lover.
A week had passed since Elladan had told him to seek out the Elf-lord, but Thranduil was proud. He felt a strange sense of history repeating itself. His pride kept him from Elrond for over two thousand years. Would it happen all over again? He ached at the thought of never seeing his bonded again, never holding him in his arms. But, at this moment, he was consumed with worry over his son. And Elrond was the source of that worry. If he would only choose someone else...
Thranduil knew that was a futile thought.
"Thranduil! Elven-King!"
Thranduil turned and saw an old Hobbit slowly walking toward him, smiling broadly and carrying a red book. Thranduil could not keep the smile from his lips at the sight. "Bilbo, Elf-Friend."
Huffing, Bilbo climbed onto one of the stone benches near Thranduil and motioned for the King to join him. Thranduil complied, fluidly sitting beside his long-time friend. "You are looking well, Master Bilbo," he offered, gazing down at the age-ravaged Hobbit.
Bilbo scoffed. "No, Elven-King, I am not. I look old; there are mirrors here in Imladris. But you, you have not aged a day since I saw you last."
Thranduil chuckled. "Such is the way of the Elves, Master Bilbo."
They sat in companionable silence for some time, watching the beauty of the valley before them. Finally, Thranduil turned to Bilbo once again, motioning at the large red book. "Are you doing some reading in your Golden Years?"
Bilbo shook his head. "No, this is the story of my adventure. 'There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale.' Would you like to read it? Perhaps correct anything I missed about the part you played in the story?"
Thranduil smiled softly. "No, Master Bilbo, I will not correct anything. It is your story, not mine. But, I would be honored to read it when I have a moment of peace to myself."
Bilbo nodded and put the book aside. "I am planning my second novel now. About the great Quest, since it is Frodo who will be the Ringbearer. I should write it; keep it a part of our history. Most of it will have to wait, though, since I can only write to the point where he will leave Rivendell." Bilbo sighed sadly.
The Elf-lord looked away from his friend and decided to see how much Bilbo knew. "Do you think Frodo will be sent alone?"
The Hobbit shook his head again. "No, I know that Lord Elrond is sending Sam -- our old gardener -- and Gandalf with him."
Thranduil chuckled. "You feel confident, then, that Frodo will be successful with the Wizard and your gardener?"
"No, I think Lord Elrond plans on sending others." He thought for a moment. "I think Lord Aragorn will be going with him, he seems anxious to leave here, and I would not doubt that his fate is somehow connected to the Ring. Boromir will be leaving as well, heading back to Minas Tirith, so it would make sense to send him along, at least as far as Gondor."
"So, two Hobbits, a Wizard and two Men to protect your kin as far as Minas Tirith?"
"I also think he will be sending one of the Dwarves, probably the youngest one, Gloin's son... what was his name?" Bilbo thought for a moment and then smiled brightly. "Gimli! Yes, I think he will send Gimli with them. After all, Dwarves and Hobbits make a formidable combination, wouldn't you agree?"
"I would not dare not to," Thranduil said amiably. "Do you think they will send an Elf with them as well, then?" Thranduil kept his tone light, never looking at the wily Hobbit.
"I would think so. For the Elves are skilled beyond any of the other companions and have very keen senses. An Elf would be invaluable to Frodo."
"Have you thought about who Elrond would send?"
The familiar tone and way King Thranduil spoke the Imladris Lord's name made Bilbo smile faintly. He had thought there was more to the two Elves than met the eye. But, both Lords had been very edgy and avoided one another since Thranduil's arrival. Bilbo couldn't really understand why, but knew it was not his place to discuss the private matters of the Mirkwood King. "I have thought some," he said after a few moments.
"And your conclusions?"
"Well, it would be an obvious choice to send Lord Glorfindel. He is an accomplished warrior, someone who has been to the Halls of Mandos and back. He would be an excellent companion."
My thoughts exactly, thought Thranduil, feeling a bit smug now that someone else had voiced what he had always thought.
"But, he would also draw much attention. He is a renowned warrior, after all, and I believe evil would be drawn to him. I do not think Lord Elrond will send his Seneschal. My next thought had been one or both his sons, since Lord Elrond would not put his own desires above those of the common good. Same problem as Lord Glorfindel, though."
Thranduil was surprised. The Hobbit was quite intuitive and made very good points. Which made the Elf quite irate.
"Lords Elladan and Elrohir are great Orc slayers; Isengard knows them by name. They would be a danger to the company, not a safeguard. Also, I am sure that the White Wizard knows the Ring has made it here and is sending something nasty to retrieve it. Therefore, it would be in Imladris' best interest to keep the twin sons here for her defense."
Damn him, thought Thranduil as his thoughts darkened further with each revelation.
"That leaves us very few Lord Elrond would entrust such an endeavor to. Lord Erestor is no longer a warrior. I am sure he is still as fit and deadly as he once was, but he is needed here as the Chief Councilor, not a warrior. Lord Elrond cannot leave Imladris, or I am sure he would have sent himself. That is the extent of the Elves here in Rivendell that I believe could be sent on such a Quest, and each one -- for their own reason or another -- would not be the Lord's choice. I do wonder who he will send, then..." Bilbo trailed off, his mind wandering through the Elves he knew in Rivendell. "Unless," he said, looking into the cool green eyes of the Elf-King, "you are here as the one Lord Elrond chose."
Thranduil could not help the laughter that erupted from him. "No, Master Bilbo, I am not here to go on such a Quest. I came to offer my counsel on such a thing, not volunteer my skills. Besides, Dol Guldur has awakened, and my woods are in danger. I cannot linger here much longer; my kingdom needs its King."
Bilbo nodded in understanding. "Then I wonder who Lord Elrond will ask..."
Thranduil sighed. He knew. He knew Elrond was right. Legolas was the only logical choice, Bilbo had made that clear to him. But, Thranduil was an Elf filled with pride and it was that pride that kept him from rushing to Elrond in that moment of realization and apologizing for hurting his bonded.
No, he would wait for Elrond to come to him.
But Elrond did not come to him. Not even after the formal announcement of the Fellowship. Suddenly, everything became terribly real for the Elven King. It was no longer some unspecified date that would send his son away; now it was a mere seven days before Legolas would depart. Thranduil feared all the more for his child's life, and he sank into a dreadful melancholy at the thought that he would lose Legolas in the coming struggle.
Imladris was asleep for the most part, but Thranduil sat alone in a corner of the library. The candle beside him had dwindled down to almost nothing, throwing long, flickering shadows against the bookshelves. He had long ago given up the pretense of reading; now, he merely stared at the wall, unmoving, unblinking. The thought consumed him: "When all has come to pass, will there even be a body for me to lay to rest?"
The creak of the door being pushed open startled Thranduil from his brooding. He turned his chair and noticed that he was no longer alone. The figure started as he noticed the Sinda. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone was in here."
Thranduil recognized the voice. "Lothvaen?"
"King Thranduil?" the Noldo replied, surprised. Lothvaen had been a liaison to Imladris in the Mirkwood court for over a century, but that was over five hundred years ago. He had even been the King's sometime lover during that time. They had come together several times during his stay, not out of love, but merely from simple affection, desire, mutual admiration, and loneliness. Neither had ever read more into their arrangement than was there, or wished for more than they had, and their last parting had been on pleasant terms.
Thranduil turned around more fully and Lothvaen stepped into the dim light of the library, closing the door. He saw that his old friend was barely dressed, only a simple dressing gown hanging open and a pair of thread-bare leggings. His long dark hair was loose and slightly mussed, and his slender feet were bare and paying no heed to the cool stone floor.
Lothvaen cleared his throat uncomfortably, aware of his unkempt appearance. "I... was just coming to return this book before I went to sleep. I know that if I didn't do it now, I would forget by the morning. You know how I am; how long did it take me to learn the way from my bedchambers to your throne room?"
Thranduil chuckled, in spite of himself. "Well, to be fair, you were being constantly confused, since more than once, you had to find your way there from my bedchambers."
"Well, yes, there was that." The Advisor shelved the leather-bound tome and turned back toward the Mirkwood King. "I don't know whether to congratulate you or offer you my sympathies. About Legolas, I mean," he hastily amended.
"To be honest, I'm not certain myself," Thranduil said, a world-weary fatigue evident in his voice.
Lothvaen's heart ached to see his former lover in such pain. He stepped lightly across the room and sat in a chair near Thranduil. He placed a hand on Thranduil's knee and asked, "Want to talk?"
"What's there to say?"
"You're afraid you're going to lose him." It wasn't a question.
"How can I not be? The last time the Enemy was in power, I lost a father. Shall I be forced to lose a son as well?"
"I wish I knew what to say to comfort you in your need, meldir."
Thranduil placed his hand on Lothvaen's. "We never needed words before."
"No, but now you are with Lord Elrond, and I would not betray him."
"I fear there is precious little left to betray, pen hael."
"Even so, King Thranduil, what you are suggesting..."
Lothvaen never got a chance to finish his thought, because at that moment, Thranduil leaned forward across the space between them and kissed the Noldo deeply. Lothvaen had not taken a lover for quite some time, and the sudden closeness of the Mirkwood King unleashed a flood of sense-memories that overwhelmed the Advisor, and he knew that he was lost.
The pair burst through the door of Thranduil's quarters in a tangled mass of limbs. Lothvaen's dressing gown hit the ground first, followed by Thranduil's robe and tunic. The Mirkwood King fumbled with the ties on Lothvaen's leggings until the Advisor reached down, gripped the fabric with both hands, and ripped. The fabric split down the middle and drifted to the floor as rags.
The two Elves fell onto the bed, and Thranduil immediately moved to devour Lothvaen's quivering erection. Lothvaen gasped in surprise and pleasure, coaxing Thranduil's legs up toward his head. He pulled the ties on the King's leggings loose with ease and pulled the breeches down, sucking Thranduil's firm cock into his mouth in one motion.
Thranduil moaned against Lothvaen's rod, and the sensations caused the Noldo to do the same. The two Elves drew each other's arousals deeper into their mouths, groaning in unison. Thranduil's mouth plunged down again and again in a feverish pace, while Lothvaen held Thranduil deep against the back of his throat and played his tongue along the shaft, paying special attention to the soft spot on the underside of the swollen head.
The Mirkwood King rolled Lothvaen onto his back, climbing on top of the dark-haired Elf. He continued to pump his mouth up and down on Lothvaen's cock as he also began to thrust down into the Advisor's mouth. Lothvaen hungrily accepted the Sinda's rod with great slurping noises as his mouth watered in anticipation.
Thranduil had other plans, though. He rolled off of Lothvaen, releasing the Noldo's staff from his mouth. Before Lothvaen could protest, though, Thranduil moved the Advisor onto his stomach, then gripped his hips and pulled him onto his hands and knees. The blond moved behind Lothvaen, caressing the skin of his former lover's backside. He spread Lothvaen's cheeks with his hands and dipped his head down, pressing his tongue flat against the puckered flesh of Lothvaen's rear entrance.
Lothvaen gasped and shuddered at the sudden contact. He felt Thranduil's tongue lightly brushing all around the crevasse of his buttocks, and he shivered in desire. The tip of that talented tongue tracked its way down to the base of Lothvaen's balls, and the Noldo moaned. Thranduil flicked his tongue across the orbs briefly before drawing his tongue back up to the tight orifice. He pushed his tongue against the opening and felt the muscle give way as Lothvaen gave a pleasured sigh and allowed Thranduil entrance.
Thranduil worked his tongue deeper into Lothvaen, remembering how the Noldo had been enraptured of the sensation the first time that Thranduil had shown him this particular trick. He remembered Lothvaen's scent, the feel of his skin, and the taste of his lips. It had all come back to him in an instant, those memories he had not dwelt upon for centuries. He could close his eyes and pretend that he was back in Mirkwood and almost a millennium in the past, with no thought or concern of the morning or of anyone else's feelings but his own and his current partner's.
The Elven King had long ago gotten into the practice of keeping a container of a sweet-scented oil near his bed, even when he traveled. It was for this bottle that he reached, retrieving it from the bedside table. He poured a little on Lothvaen's behind, letting the slick substance run sensually between his cheeks before spreading the liquid with his fingers. Lothvaen's rear had been gently opened by Thranduil's tongue already, so the dark-haired Advisor felt only pleasure as the Sinda slipped first one finger, then a second down into the tight passage. He worked his fingers expertly, coaxing Lothvaen into an even more heightened state of arousal. The Noldo rocked his hips, thrusting back onto Thranduil's fingers, his hand flying to his own cock and stroking it slowly but firmly.
Thranduil removed his fingers and poured more of the oil into the palm of his hand, which he then worked into the tight skin of his straining erection. He braced against Lothvaen's hips with one hand and used the other to gently guide his cock into the Advisor's waiting entrance.
Lothvaen hissed slightly at the intrusion, but forced himself to relax and gradually worked Thranduil's ample shaft all the way inside him. Thranduil paused once he was inside the tight vessel, giving Lothvaen's body a chance to adjust and for the small amount of pain to recede. He did not have to ask Lothvaen when he was ready; the Sinda knew this Elf's body well enough to simply know. When he was certain that Lothvaen was prepared, Thranduil began to thrust his slick cock into Lothvaen's tight sheath in a slow, easy rhythm.
The Noldo was already gasping for breath between quiet moans when Thranduil began thrusting. Lothvaen pushed his hips back as the Sinda pushed forward, meeting Thranduil's thrust with a satisfying slap of flesh-on-flesh and burying the Mirkwood King's shaft deep inside of him. His cock twitched in his hand with every thrust, sending even more pleasing tingles shooting through his body.
Despite their best efforts, the act was over sooner than either of them would have liked. Knowing each other's bodies as well as they did was a curse as well as a blessing, especially when neither of them had shared a bed with another in quite some time. Thranduil gritted his teeth when he got that light-headed feeling that signaled his release was near. He thought for a moment about stopping until he regained some control, but the familiarity of the contact and the intensity of the pleasure were simply too great, and he allowed himself to be consumed by the fire of orgasm, calling out the Advisor's name as he sent a stream of liquid heat shooting into Lothvaen's tender opening.
Lothvaen pressed himself back against Thranduil's hips as the Sinda filled him. His hand jerked up and down furiously, and the Noldo gave an answering call of Thranduil's name as his body convulsed in orgasm. The milky-white fluid spurted from his pulsing organ onto the bedclothes as his movements contracted around Thranduil's cock, which only added to the pleasure of Lothvaen's release.
Elrond moved slowly through the halls. He had not slept that night, just sat by his favorite waterfall and thought. He had decided he needed to do as he decided weeks ago, talk to Thranduil and reconcile. He missed him terribly. So, just before dawn, Elrond began his walk to Thranduil's rooms.
As he came around the corner that turned into the family wing, he stopped short. His eyes grew wide and his breath came fast. He could not believe it.
Thranduil stood just outside his door, wearing the emerald silk dressing gown Elrond had given him three winters ago. His love was smiling, his hand caressing the skin of his dark-haired advisor. Lothvaen was wearing one of Thranduil's other dressing gowns, his face flushed and his eyes slightly glazed.
Thranduil said something to the Elf, Lothvaen nodded and smiled wistfully. Elrond felt faint when Thranduil leaned in and kissed his trusted friend, softly and thoroughly. There was no mistake why the two Elves were in the state of dress they were in or why Lothvaen was slinking out of the King's rooms just as dawn broke.
When the kiss broke, Lothvaen quickly scurried down the hallway in the opposite direction of where Elrond stood. He watched as Thranduil waited for the Noldo to have disappeared from sight before he returned to his room. It was when he turned that he saw his lover, frozen and wide-eyed, at the mouth of the hallway. Their eyes met -- sated, sad emeralds clashing with betrayed, raging silver.
Elrond did the only thing he could think to do. He promptly turned and made his way back to his library. He could not handle this right now, not with everything else going wrong with their world. It was to his retreating back that he heard the emotionless, defeated thought from his lover, and only one thought, before he silenced Thranduil and barred him from his mind.
It was not his fault, Elrond.
Thranduil settled into the seat of his mount. His heart was heavy, he felt dirty and wrong. And he knew he was. He had betrayed Elrond just as he always thought Elrond had betrayed him. What hurt the most was that Elrond had blocked Thranduil from him. He took only a small comfort in the fact that they were bonded and that they would work through this.
He hoped.
Until then, he had a kingdom to rule, Elves to protect, and a son to mourn. The squeezed his knees and his stallion obeyed, moving quickly through the main gates to the Last Homely House. He told no one he was leaving, although he was sure Elrond knew. Elrond knew all that went on in his lands.
For now, it was over.
Elrond finished his correspondence and sighed heavily. His eyes watched the retreating figure of his lover. Thranduil was running again. He shouldn't have expected much else from the great King, but he was disappointed that Thranduil hadn't even attempted to speak with him.
Wait, that wasn't fair. Thranduil had and he had refused to hear him. The blocking of his mind to his love was a finality to Thranduil. Elrond would not hear him, would not understand, and he was right -- the Lord of Imladris wouldn't. Not yet.
He looked up when the door opened and Lothvaen slinked in. He looked tired and worn, guilt written across his features. His Advisor did not know Elrond knew of the night's activities and he wanted to see if his long-time friend would come clean about it.
"Good morning, Lothvaen," he said, smiling sadly.
Lothvaen looked at the floor, wringing his hands. "Good morning, my Lord." Lothvaen's voice, which was usually deep and soft, was harsh and broken this morning. It concerned Elrond. Thranduil said Lothvaen was not to be blamed, and he found he could not blame his employee for the indiscretion. He knew deep down it was Thranduil's actions, not Lothvaen's, that hurt him.
"Is something wrong? You look pale, meldir."
Lothvaen finally met the compassionate grey gaze of Elrond's, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I have done you a terrible wrong," he whispered.
Elrond rose from his seat and came to stand in front of the dark- haired Elf. "What is it, Lothvaen?"
"I have spent the night in King Thranduil's bed," he said simply.
Elrond nodded. "I know." Lothvaen took in a sharp breath when Elrond embraced him lightly. "I do not blame you, Lothvaen. What has happened shall be dealt with between Thranduil and I. Do not be so hard on yourself."
"But--"
"No, it is over." He pulled back from the embrace. "Take this day off, there is not much to do here; Erestor and I can handle the office this day." Elrond returned to his seat, picking up his quill again.
Lothvaen began to walk out of the room, dazed and confused, when Elrond's voice stopped him once again.
"Why you, Lothvaen?" A simple question and one the Advisor really didn't want to answer.
"While I was the Imladris Advisor in Mirkwood for a century, long ago, His Majesty and I shared his bed on many occasions." He kept his back to his Lord, not wanting to see his face.
"Were you in love?"
"No, it was never more than a meeting of two lonely Elves who took great pleasure and comfort in one another for a short period of time."
Elrond nodded, distancing himself from this revelation. "You may go, Lothvaen. And do not worry about running into the fair King. He has taken his leave of Imladris."
And me, he thought sadly, returning to his work as his Advisor left him alone.
