Title: Swords and Seduction: Mirkwood Alliances 
Author: Elfscribe,  elfscribe5@yahoo.com 
Pairings: Elladan/Elrohir, Elladan/Legolas/Elrohir, Legolas/OC, Thranduil/Nain II, 
Thranduil/twins 
Rating:  NC-17 
Summary: Returning from errantry in the northern wastes, Elrond's sons are 
attacked by brigands and forced to turn to King Thranduil for help.  They 
encounter a young Legolas, frustrated by his father's restrictions and a dwarf 
king who appears to have a crush on Thranduil.  All is fair in love and war as the 
twins set about seducing the beautiful Mirkwood prince and Thranduil seeks to 
solve the mystery of King Nain's visit.  
Disclaimer: The characters, settings, and languages used in this work are the 
property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line 
Cinema.  No money made.  No harm intended. I bow before the mastery of 
J.R.R.  
Archive: Cuivienen, LOM, Melethron, Lady Illia, Elffic yes. Other sites, please ask 
permission.  
Feedback: Oh yeah, love it.  
Warnings: Incest. If the twins doing it squicks you out, don't read it. 
Betas: Thanks so much to betas and dear friends Dalogas, Dhvana, and Capella 
for good advice, support and finding my errant commas.  You guys are the 
best.  All remaining errors are mine.   
Author's Notes: This is a FEST fic written for a Waters of Cuivienen challenge in 
which a young Legolas meets Elrond's sons for the first time in Mirkwood.  It is in 
the same story universe as "Ohtarnil: A Warrior Love," "Dragon Fever," and 
"Dark to Dawn."   
First Posted: July 13, 2003

****************************************
 
July 2438 in the Third Age of Middle Earth   
This story take place during a 397 year period known as the Watchful Peace. 
Sauron had been driven from Dol Guldur in 2063 but the wizards and elves 
feared his return.  Toward the end of this time, evil things began gathering in 
the wild places. 
 
Chapter 1  - On the Edge of Shadow
 
It had rained earlier that afternoon and now the air felt as hot and moist as a 
lover's mouth.  Elladan shifted uneasily on his horse's back.  It was so quiet.  He 
could hear the bright chink of his chain mail, the swish of his horse's tail, the 
crunch of the animal's hooves.  On the left, the vast lake stretched out to the 
horizon, grey water blending into grey sky, small waves gently caressing the 
pebbly beach with a shushing sound. Oozing marshlands lay to his right, filled 
with scrubby brush and cattails, bordered by the darker shadow of Mirkwood in 
the distance.   
 
Mirkwood.  He shivered, knowing that as soon as they had resupplied at 
Esgaroth, their path would lie under its terrible black roof.  
 
He rode on the edge of shadow. His lot in life: existing between boundaries, 
neither wholly of elfkind nor human; not a complete soul but the dark mirrored 
half of one; not to love normally, but all his longing and desire bent on that 
better part of himself, the one who was forbidden to him.  
 
The peredhel turned to look at his brother who rode behind, noticing with 
concern how heavily Elrohir sat his mount, shoulders slumped, looking as weary 
as Elladan felt.  It had been a long and dangerous journey through the northern 
wastes. Long but profitable.  Father would be pleased with the information they 
had gathered.  Pleased with the news, but not its import.  Evil was stirring 
again.  Orcs were gathering in the Grey Mountains and other creatures, even 
more dreadful.  
 
Elladan sighed.  All he wanted right now was a good dinner that he didn't have 
to cook and a soft bed.  
 
A soft bed.  Elladan's eyes lingered on the lithe form of his twin.  Perhaps, later, 
when they had rested . . . .  No!  He shoved the thought from his mind.  They 
had promised each other. 
 
Elrohir looked up, met Elladan's eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched 
upward into a brief smile.  "So, where is this curséd town, brother?"
 
"Near.  Maybe around the next corner."
 
"I'll confess I'm looking forward to some comforts.  It's been a long road," said 
Elrohir.
 
"You've read my mind, as usual." Elladan smiled.  "Tell me, which comforts do 
you miss most?"
 
Elrohir clicked to his mount and trotted up to ride abreast of Elladan. "Fresh fruit, 
Gondorian brandy, and a hot bath," he said.  "All of which would be quite 
welcome right now."
 
"Yes, those things would be sweet.  Six months in the wilds is a long time." 
Elladan paused. "I was thinking of something else as well. My comfortable bed in 
Imladris." 
 
Elrohir lifted a fine dark eyebrow.  "I remember it well," he said softly.  "Cool, 
fresh linens in the summer time, piled with down-filled blankets in the winter. 
When the curtains were drawn round, it felt hidden and secure, a place of 
refuge."
 
"And pleasure," said Elladan.  He looked into Elrohir's clear grey eyes and saw 
there a yearning akin to his.  
 
"Pleasure is too simple a word for it.  Ecstasy is closer to the mark," said Elrohir.  
He shifted his gaze away.  "I thought we weren't going to talk about this any 
more.  We made a promise to each other."
 
"What if we both decide to break the promise?"  Elladan asked.  "Here we are far 
from prying eyes.  There is no one to suspect.  We have been good for far too 
long."  He reached over and grasped Elrohir's arm and their horses halted.  
Elladan stared into his twin's eyes. 
 
"Elro, meleth*, my soul aches for the completion that only you can provide," 
Elladan said in a rush.   
 
"It is forbidden," said Elrohir.  "You know that."
 
Elladan felt stung. He had opened up the wound again, only to have Elrohir pour 
salt into it.  He studied his horse's neck.
 
Elrohir looked at him, then he put his hand on Elladan's thigh, stroking it gently.  
"I confess that I too feel desire.  It is a constant struggle to deny it," he said 
softly.  "We are too alike, you and I."
 
"Not enough alike, apparently," Elladan said, "if you can resist and I cannot."
 
"You *have* resisted.  In all the time we have traveled together, this is the first 
you have broached the subject, though I know it burns in your thoughts."
 
"Does it burn in yours, brother?"
 
"You know that it does.  I feel what you feel.  Sometimes I can almost hear your 
voice in my head.  Or maybe it's my own, I can't tell the difference.  If you are 
not near me, I feel utterly lost.  But, you know the consequences as well as I."  
 
Elladan took a handful of Elrohir's hair and pulled it slowly and repeatedly 
through his fingers.  "I cannot help the way I feel. You are the other half of my 
soul."  He bent forward and kissed Elrohir's forehead.  "But for your sake, I will 
bind up my desire and try not to speak of it again."  
 
"We could find a third," Elrohir suggested.  "As we have done before. Someone 
we can connect through."
 
"Do you think that likely, in this place?" Elladan snorted.  "Naught but ignorant, 
unwashed men, occasional misshapen dwarves, and forbidden wood elves.  You 
may recall that, a while back, Thranduil threw us out of his palace for that very 
offense."
 
Elrohir laughed heartily.  "Oh yes, I remember how furious the king was when he 
discovered that we had seduced his nephew."  He ran a tongue across his lips.  
"The elf had a lovely body as I recall.  By the Valar, no one vents his anger like 
Thranduil!"  
 
"Do you think he left a single glass unbroken at that banquet table?"  Elladan 
chuckled. "For a while there I thought he might kill us.  But meleth, that night 
was worth it."
 
"His skin was so smooth and white.  His lips like sweet berries," sighed Elrohir.
 
"Watching him thrust inside you . . . ah . . . it was as if I were doing it, myself," 
said Elladan. "When I took him, oh gods, he was so tight.  The very thought 
makes me hard.  His moans were like rain, and through his heat, I could feel 
you. The distance between us evaporated. It was as if it were me inside you, 
making you squirm and cry as I filled you. I felt your pleasure build, your 
resistance breaking down as you accepted me, as the wings of your soul 
embraced me until there was no longer a "you" and an "I." It was just us 
together.  The way it should be, forever and always."
 
He heard Elrohir's quick gasp. 
 
"You feel it also, don't you, meleth?" Elladan said as he ran his thumb across his 
twin's cheek and brushed it over his parted lips.  Elrohir closed his eyes and 
kissed Elladan's thumb, his breath quickened and audible.
 
"You are my only love, pen-vain*," Elladan sighed.  "It doesn't feel wrong when 
we are together. It feels natural.  It feels right. Won't you reconsider?" 
 
Elrohir opened his eyes and they were bright with moisture, his cheeks flushed. 
So beautiful, Elladan thought. 
 
"I know it is wrong, brother," Elrohir said slowly, "but then, what's one more sin 
among many."
 
"Uthaes-nîn*," cried Elladan in delight, and leaning over, grasped him by the 
back of the head and pulled him into a hard kiss.  His lips, so long denied, tasted 
sweet.  
 
Elrohir released a shuddering moan as his lips moved in concert with his 
brother's.  He opened his mouth and accepted Elladan's supple tongue.  Elladan 
devoured him, pausing momentarily to come up for air and then fastening his 
mouth back onto his again. Elladan's blood was racing, the heat gathering in his 
groin. Finally they pulled away, breathing hard and looking greedily into each 
other's eyes.  
 
"Once again, I am proved helpless against your allure," said Elrohir.
 
"No, it is I who cannot resist yours.  Come here again," cried Elladan.  And 
Elrohir threw his arms about his twin, their mouths crushing together, their 
hands clutching at each other, roaming up each other's thighs.  Elladan's horse 
shifted beneath him, breaking them apart.
 
"Gods," said Elrohir, "I curse all this armor."  Grinning, he reached down and 
adjusted his crotch. "A taste," he said. 
 
"Of the banquet to come," laughed Elladan. "Let's find this benighted town." 
Elladan rocked his seat and his horse broke into a canter.  
 
"Let's hope they have a decent inn," called Elrohir, his horse keeping pace with 
Elladan's, "and that the beds aren't full of fleas."
 
"Ever the optimist," said Elladan. 
 
******************** 
When the town of Esgaroth finally came into view, it did not look promising and 
that impression increased as they drew near.   
 
A long row of shabby unkempt buildings bordered the edge of the town, which 
was built on pilings out over the lake.  A guard at the gatehouse by the bridge 
explained that there were no stables in town for their horses, but they could be 
cared for at a stable further down the shore.  "We travel by boat for the most 
part," he'd said.  
 
So, they had to take the horses down to the stable, then trudge back, carrying 
their saddlebags over their shoulders.  Both were hot and miserable by the time 
they crossed the bridge into town.  The few people in the streets stared at them 
in an unfriendly fashion. The place seemed sad and deserted. 
 
"I don't remember hearing that Esgaroth was so desolate," said Elrohir, hefting 
his saddlebags higher on his shoulder.
 
"You're right.  They don't seem to have fared well since the dwarves left Erebor 
to go to the Grey Mountains," remarked Elladan.  
 
The inn the guard directed them to was no better: the rooms small and stuffy, 
the beds mere cots.  But the innkeeper seemed anxious to please and promised 
them a bath. 
 
"You can wash first, brother," said Elladan when two men appeared carrying the 
tub and a large copper pot of hot water.  "I'll go and see about supper."
 
"And Gondorian brandy," said Elrohir.
 
"Unlikely, meleth, but I'll see what may be found."
 
Elladan went down the hall and entered the darkened, smoky common room.  He 
coughed once and looked around.  About two dozen men sat at tables, drinking 
from tall ceramic tankards, smoking short-stemmed pipes, and playing cards.  
The buzz of conversation stopped completely when he entered and he could 
sense a sudden greedy energy in the room. He smiled to himself, wondering how 
he might use it to his advantage.  He inclined his head slightly in the direction of 
the group and then went up to the bartender. 
 
******************
 
Volnulf had spent the entire afternoon idly drinking with the boys and feeling 
exceptionally bored. The money was running low, although he figured he could 
intimidate the innkeeper into providing free service once it was gone.  And the 
boy he'd taken in the last raid was no fun at all anymore; just stared fixedly into 
space.  High time he took these worthless sacks of filth out on another raiding 
expedition.  It's was just that it was so stinking hot. Easier to sit and get stewed.
 
At that moment a stranger walked into the room. Volnulf felt his jaw drop open, 
realized he must look foolish, and shut it with a snap.  
 
He was an elf, that much was obvious, his beautiful beardless face, delicately 
pointed ears, and the long braided hairstyle betrayed it.  But unlike any elf he'd 
seen, this one's hair was black.  He was dressed in rich but travel-stained 
garments: a dark green cloak, under which could be seen a green surcoat, the 
silvered rings of the mail shirt, the long scabbard of his sword, and the sleeves of 
his embroidered green and tan tunic.  He wore a diamond stud in one earlobe, 
fingerless black leather gloves, and high boots. He was very tall, with broad 
shoulders and a slender waist and he walked with an easy, athletic glide. But 
there was something more, something indefinable, a magnetism that caused 
Volnulf's cock to twitch. 
 
He wasn't bored any longer.  
 
The elf nodded in his direction and then proceeded to the bar.   
     
"Now that's the prettiest thing, man or woman, that I've ever seen walk in here," 
Volnulf said loudly to Royd, one of his companions.  The other men turned to 
look at him. 
 
"Be careful, he'll hear you," Royd replied.
 
"What does that matter?" Volnulf said.  "There's one of him and twenty-two of 
us."
 
"I don't care. He looks, well, dangerous," Royd whispered.  "Like he knows how 
to use that sword."
 
"You are a woman, Royd, as I've always said," snorted Volnulf. "We are more 
than enough for one delicate-looking warrior. You can content yourself with the 
boys of nearby villages, I'm going after this one."  He locked eyes with various 
members of his troop.  "Be prepared to back me up, if it comes to that."  
 
He got up from his chair and kicked it aside, then swaggered over to the bar 
where the elf was picking up two mugs of ale.  "A two-fisted drinker, are ya 
then?" he said.
 
The elf raised an eyebrow.  "Is it your custom, mortal, to speak in such a familiar 
manner with strangers?" he said. 
 
His voice was extraordinary: a clear, musical baritone with a lilting foreign accent 
that left no doubt, if indeed there had been any, as to his elven heritage.  It 
sang its way straight to Volnulf's groin, even as it intimidated him. For a minute 
he felt unsure, humbled to be in this lordly presence.  But pride and lust quickly 
overcame him.
 
"This is my place, Elf, and I'll be familiar with whoever I please," he said.  
 
Muffled snickers were heard about the room. The elf smiled in a grim way that 
should have raised a warning if Volnulf had taken heed.
 
"There may be some who would teach you otherwise," the elf said and raised his 
glass.  Then he said something in that liquid language of theirs and took a drink.
 
Volnulf decided the situation warranted a more civil tack.  He went to the nearest 
table, pulled out a chair and sat down.  "Sorry I spoke to ya that way.  Can I buy 
ya a drink to make up?"
 
"You may," the elf replied turning to face him and leaning against the bar.  "You 
wouldn't happen to have any brandy, would you?  If so, I would be in your 
debt." 
 
"Brandy," snorted one of his men, "what does he think this is, a lord's palace?"
 
Volnulf turned and glared at him.  "It just so happens, Tor, that I do have some.  
And since you opened your hole, you can fetch it.  It's in the cabinet in my 
room."   He held out a key.  "Be quick about it or I'll cut off your nuts."
 
"Charming," said the elf.  "I should address all my warriors in that manner. It 
might motivate them."  
 
Tor rose unsteadily and headed out the door.  
 
"Elf, I  invite you to come sit with me.  We don't often get visitors of your, uh 
quality, in this town.   Tell me your name and where you are from," said Volnulf 
striving his utmost to be courteous.
 
Elladan looked at him for a long moment and then came and sat on a chair 
across the table from him.  "I am called Elladan," he said.  "And I come from a 
place west of the Misty Mountains."
 
"A fair piece from here. What brings you to our town?"
 
"A desire to travel and see the sights of Middle Earth.  And your name?"
 
"Volnulf, son of Frelof," he said.  "Leader of Esgaroth's Liberators. And if you're 
traveling for pleasure, you are hardly in the right part of the world.  This place 
can be very dangerous."  He leaned back in his chair.  "But you are in luck. We 
can offer you protection from certain, shall we say, unfortunate incidents. And if 
you are in the mood for pleasure, we can surely show you some."
 
The elf laughed.  "I hardly think so," he said.  "My tastes are rather specific."
 
Volnulf's mind was wandering as he imagined bending the beautiful stranger 
over the table and ripping off his leggings to reveal luscious round buttocks.  His 
pulse quickened at the thought of what he would do next. 
 
Tor arrived with a round bottle tucked into the crook of his arm.  He stumbled as 
he reached the table and set the bottle down hard so that the amber liquid 
sloshed within. 
 
"Fool," cried Volnulf cuffing him. "Get some glasses."  He turned to the elf.  
"Forgive him.  He doesn't know any better. Peasant family."
 
The elf raised an eyebrow as Tor went over to the bar and retrieved some 
tumblers while muttering something under his breath.  
 
"It would seem," said the elf, mischief lighting his eyes, "that he knows 
something of your heritage as well."
 
"What!" growled Volnulf.
 
"You heard what I said?" Tor incredulously addressed the elf.
 
"I hear most things," said the elf. 
 
Volnulf lurched to his feet and grabbed the glasses from Tor.  "I should kill ya 
where ya stand," he barked.   He came back and poured the brandy for himself 
and the elf. 
 
The elf picked up the glass and hesitated, bringing it to his nose and sniffing. A 
cautious one, Volnulf thought.  He winked and then emptied his glass with 
several swallows, wiping his bearded lips with the back of his hand. 
 
Elladan took a sip of the brandy, then his face changed.  "Not bad," he said. 
"Where did you acquire this?"
 
"Er, best ya don't know," said Volnulf.  
 
"Could I buy it from you?"
 
"Perhaps," Volnulf looked slyly at him.
 
"What's the price?"
 
"Ya don't want to know," laughed one of the men in the back.  
 
***************
 
Elladan glanced at them, thinking that they looked for all the world like starving 
hounds waiting for a live rabbit to be thrown in their midst.  He shifted to the 
edge of his chair.   
It would seem he had fallen in with a bunch of brigands.  The peredhel wrinkled 
his nose at the smell of them.  The leader was broad and muscular with red hair 
and a dark brown beard.  He had a long scar across his neck and a tooth missing 
in his lower jaw.  His loathsome smile revealed his upper gums. A smoldering 
violence existed just under the surface.  
 
Elladan thought it might be wise to acquire his twin's brandy and be gone quickly 
to his bath and the eagerly anticipated evening of pleasure. 
 
"The price," mused Volnulf, rubbing his hand over his chin.  "Probably not more 
than you have to give.  Though perhaps not something you care to bargain."
 
"I'll give you five silver pennies," said Elladan, reaching for the bag at his waist.  
"That's more than fair."
 
"Your money isn't what I want, elf," grinned the brigand reaching under the 
table and clamping his hand down on Elladan's thigh.  "Although I may take that 
as well." 
 
In a sudden movement, Elladan tossed the rest of his brandy in Volnulf's face.  
As the man cried out and flung his hands to his eyes, Elladan sprang out of the 
chair, knocking it over, and the next instant had his knife pressed against the 
ruffian's throat.   The other men jumped up and advanced on him, brandishing 
various weapons.  
 
"I should teach you some manners," Elladan said in a deadly voice.  "Perhaps I'll 
add another scar to your neck, one you won't recover from quickly."
 
"It was a joke. I meant no harm, elf, Elladan, I mean," rasped Volnulf, his arms 
flailing. 
 
"Somehow I doubt your word," said Elladan.  "I will take my leave now.  Don't 
make the mistake of trying to hinder me."   He drew his sword and began to 
back out carrying it in one hand and the long knife in the other.  
 
"Don't stand there, you cowardly dogs," cried Volnulf, "get him!"   
 
The men looked at each other, hesitating. Volnulf struggled to his feet and pulled 
out his own knife, which he flung at Elladan.  
 
The peredhel watched its flight and ducked to the side.  The knife struck the bar.
 
"I'll disembowel each of ya myself if ya don't stop him," cried Volnulf.  
 
Suddenly, twenty men attacked at once and Elladan was beset on all sides.  He 
threw his knife and it hit a man right in the eye. He began wielding his sword 
two-handed, killing another man as he attempted to move steadily toward the 
door. 
 
"Back him up to the wall," yelled Volnulf.  He pushed through the men and 
barred Elladan's exit.  The bartender tossed the brigand a sword and he held it 
ready.
 
Elrohir! the elf thought desperately.  A little help needed here!  
 
The men formed a circle around him and Volnulf advanced, making little cutting 
motions in the air.  "Before, I might have let ya go once we were done," he said, 
"but now you'll wish for death before I deal it out to ya."  
 
"Men have such an exaggerated notion of their prowess," said Elladan. 
 
Volnulf lunged for him and Elladan knocked the blade aside, then countered with 
a swift series of thrusts and parries.  The force of his attack moved the brigand 
slowly toward the door.  Another man came at Elladan from the side and he 
fought both of them, then a third.  He found himself backed up toward the far 
wall again.  Four of them now swung swords at him.   He whirled and punched 
one in the face as he cut another on the arm.  All of them were shouting now. 
The din and smell were overwhelming.  Worse than a bunch of orcs, he thought. 
 
"Well, now, brother.  I see you've made some new friends," said a melodious 
voice.
    
Elladan looked up gratefully to see his twin standing in the doorway, his sword 
drawn. And oh, he was beautiful!  He was wearing only his leggings and his 
boots, his muscle-sculpted chest quite bare, his damp hair slicked back away 
from his face.  His eyes glittered with soft malice.   
 
All the men turned around to look.  Volnulf caught his breath. "By the gods, 
there are two of them!"  he cried.  "What sorcery is this?"
 
Elladan took advantage of surprise and leapt up on a nearby table, running 
across the top and jumping from one to the other, until he was clear of most of 
the ruffians.  With a shout, he launched himself at two nearest the door.   Elrohir 
was fighting off the rest of them as Volnulf shouted, "Don't let them escape!"  
But the men were drawing back, clearly out of their league against the two 
trained warriors.
 
Elladan found himself fighting next to his twin.  "Well, here we are again," he 
panted. "It's about time you showed up." 
 
Elrohir kicked one of the men in the chest and sent him flying into a chair, which 
broke from under him. "You know, brother, I did have to take time to put 
something on. Unless you wanted me to rescue you stark naked." 
 
"I always want you that way!" laughed Elladan. "But I suppose I'll make 
concessions to practicality."   They reached the open door and attacked with 
renewed ferocity, until the men shrank back from them.   
 
Volnulf moved forward.  "So, do I have to do it all myself, then?" he growled. 
 
Elladan sliced his sword across Volnulf's cheek.  The man gave a great cry and 
put his hand to his crimson-stained face. 
 
"Now we make a run for it," Elladan said. 
 
"Right behind you, brother," said Elrohir as they bolted through the door and ran 
down the street.  They could hear Volnulf roaring with rage behind them.  
 
"Which way?" asked Elladan.
 
"The pier," said Elrohir.  "Come on."   They pounded down the wooden planks of 
the pier, reached the end and turned to look behind them.  The crowd of angry 
men, who had grown by about a dozen more, were following them, shouting and 
waving sharp objects. 
 
"Oh, this is not good," said Elrohir.  "Warg's teeth, brother, what did you say to 
get them so upset?"
 
"Nothing.  I was just trying to get your curséd brandy. This is all your fault, you 
realize."
 
"You must have done something. I know of no one else who elicits such strong 
emotions," Elrohir said.  "You are a genius.  There's nothing for it brother, but to 
go for a swim."   
 
They both dived off the pier into the lake and swam underwater as far under 
the town as they could. Finally, lungs bursting, they rose to the surface, hiding in 
the darkness between several large, algae-covered pylons.  There they waited in 
silence a long time.   They heard shouting and saw canoes plying the water 
before finally all was quiet again.
 
"What now?" whispered Elrohir.
 
"We should wait until it gets darker and then see if we can get our horses."  
 
"This is not how I envisioned our evening together," said Elrohir.  "Standing 
chest deep in cold water. So romantic, brother. At least we both got a bath."  He 
paused, then said,  "Perhaps it's just as well." 
 
Elladan snorted in reply. "Now what?" he asked.  "We don't dare go back to 
retrieve our bags. Even if we could sneak in and get them, we have no way to 
get the supplies we need."
 
"I suggest we throw ourselves on Thranduil's mercy," said Elrohir.  "It's about a 
day's ride from here and there's nothing else.  There's no hope of getting home 
if we can't get re-equipped."
 
"Oh gods," groaned Elladan.  "Not Thranduil."
 
"Surely, he won't remember what happened before.  That was two hundred 
years ago."
 
"Elves have long memories," said Elladan. "Especially Thranduil."
 
Elrohir brightened. "You know, Elladan, it may not be all bad. Remember that 
imp, Thranduil's youngest son? He will be full grown now."
 
"Ah, yes, he was promising even then."
 
"I guess we never learn, do we?" laughed Elrohir.
 
"Not at all," said Elladan.  "Well, it seems dark enough now.  Ready?"
 
"Lead the way, brother," said Elrohir.
 
**********************
*meleth - love 
*pen vain - beautiful one 
*úthaes-nîn - my temptation
 
-tbc-


Swords and Seduction: Mirkwood Alliances 
by elfscribe, elfscribe5@yahoo.com 
For disclaimers and all that jazz, see chapter 1
 
***********************************
May, 2438 in the Third Age of Middle Earth,  Mirkwood
 
Chapter 2 - Táro  
  
Muscles drawn taut, the tawny skin of his bare limbs and chest shiny with 
sweat, Táro slowly drew one dagger in a line through the air in front of 
him, the other held at an angle poised for a strike.  He moved with the 
grace and skill of a dancer. His white-blond hair was pulled back from his 
face in a single thick braid, his lean angular face betrayed no expression, 
the long scar along his temple pulsed. 
  
Legolas held his blades ready and watched his teacher, waiting for the 
attack which he knew from experience would come unexpectedly and with 
lightning speed.  The prince noticed that a glistening drop of sweat snaked 
down the weapons master's stomach and disappeared into his loin cloth. 
Legolas shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. 
  
Then it came, the sudden rush that always left him breathless, followed by 
the ringing contact of their blades. They pushed iron against iron, 
matching strength, each waiting for the opening, the slight imbalance that 
would give advantage.  Legolas looked into the fierce blue eyes of his 
teacher.  Their bodies were so close, Legolas could hear his breathing, 
smell his rich, earthy smell.  His beauty was savage.  
  
"Legolas," he said suddenly, "Focus!"  Táro flung the younger elf 
backward and Legolas caught himself and turned, just as Táro sliced a 
singing blade inches from his chest.  "If I had been the enemy, you might 
be maimed or dead," Táro said. "Come at me again." 
  
Legolas bent over, breathing hard.  "Táro, we've been at this all afternoon.  
Don't you think a respite is in order?" 
  
"A respite, Prince Legolas?" Táro circled around him, a sardonic smile on 
his beautiful face.  "Have I worn you out then?  You are much younger 
than I.  I should be the one tired."  He sheathed his knives and moved 
close, his bare feet thudding on the wooden floor. 
  
"Ha, I've never seen you tired," Legolas said.  "Why are you working me 
so hard? You'd think we were at war." 
  
"Your father has said nothing to you?" Táro said.   
  
Legolas shook his head.  
  
"Then I think I won't for now.  Suffice it to say that Thranduil has heard 
some things."  
  
He gripped Legolas's biceps, then slid his hands across his pectorals and 
down his abdomen, casually, as if assessing a racehorse.  "It's not hurting 
you any.  You're in much better shape than you were a couple of months 
ago."  He cocked his head. "It looks good on you. You'll have all the elf 
maidens swooning.  Not that they aren't already."   
  
Táro walked across the practice room and grabbed two towels from a 
rack.  He returned, throwing one to Legolas, and wiping his own face with 
the other. 
  
Three months earlier, King Thranduil had ordered Táro, the captain of his 
guard, to train both Legolas's older brother and him in the art of combat.  
Legolas thought he didn't have anything more to learn when the weapons 
master had first begun his training, and was irritated that his father thought 
he did. It had taken one session with Táro to show the prince the depth of 
his misconception.  They had trained every day since then with every kind 
of weapon, as well as hand to hand combat.  The sessions had left Legolas 
sore but exhilarated.  The prince found the older elf fascinating, his 
presence, his touch, thrilling in a strange way that he had never 
experienced before.  
  
"Are we done?" asked Legolas as he set down his knives and mopped his 
face. "There might be an elf maiden waiting, as you said."  He laughed. 
  
Táro studied him.  "No. Today, we are going to learn something different, 
I think," he said.  "I notice that you are still too wary of the knives." 
  
"Shouldn't I be?" Legolas laughed.  "Here's where you cut me last week."  
He indicated the thin scab along his upper arm.  
  
"You didn't move quickly enough and if you had been just a little slower, 
I'd have cut you deeper, given you a scar." Táro's lips curled.    
  
Legolas looked again at the long white mark on Táro's temple.  It gave the 
weapons master distinction and the prince thought that he wouldn't mind 
getting a scar or two himself.    
  
"You enjoy this too much," said Legolas.   
  
A sly smile crossed Táro's face.  "You don't know what I enjoy, son of 
Thranduil.  I just want to impress upon you how serious this is. You've led 
far too easy a life until now.  My task is to toughen you up." 
  
"I will tell my father you haven't been remiss.  What is this lesson?" 
  
"The line between pleasure and pain." 
  
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that." 
  
"Oh, but you will," Táro promised.   He strode over to the practice room 
door and slid the bolt shut, then he went over to a cabinet and pulled out a 
bottle of oil.  "Take off your loincloth," he said, without even looking at 
Legolas. 
  
"What?" 
  
"Now!" Táro barked. 
  
Legolas bent down and undid the knots in his loincloth and let it slip to the 
ground.  He stood completely naked and feeling shy, but at the same time 
aroused.  He hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself before his teacher and 
wondered why he needed to be unclothed.  What had the elf said, the line 
between pleasure and pain?  This did not bode well.  
  
Táro returned, cast his eyes over him, then poured the heavy liquid into his 
hands, rubbed them together, and then poured another handful.  He moved 
behind Legolas and began rubbing the oil over the prince's shoulders and 
neck, down his back, over his buttocks.  His long, even strokes felt good to 
sore muscles and Legolas found himself leaning into Táro's strong hands.  
  
"Good, you are relaxing," Táro said.  He moved over to Legolas's front, 
kneading his chest and down his loins.  He gently brushed against 
Legolas's member causing the prince to jump.   
  
"You must control that reflex, Prince. In a short while, it could lead to 
unpleasant results." 
  
"What are you going to do, Táro?" 
  
"Didn't your father teach you that patience is a virtue?" 
  
Legolas smiled.  "My father may teach that, but he rarely models it. They 
say I take after him."    
  
Táro laughed.   He wiped his hands on the towel and then unrolled a cloth 
bundle, revealing a set of knives of different sizes and shapes.  Legolas 
looked on, his anxiety increasing as Táro selected one of the knives with a 
smooth wooden handle and tested it by sliding the blade along his arm.  
  
He approached Legolas slowly, "It will go better if you lean up against the 
wall," he said. 
  
"What?"  
  
Like a striking snake, Táro shoved Legolas on the chest, slamming him 
against the wall.  Stunned, Legolas hardly had time to think before the 
weapons master pressed his entire body against the prince's.  
  
"You will obey immediately and without hesitation. Do you understand?" 
Táro said. 
  
Legolas nodded, the blood rushing to his face and groin.  Táro's body was 
warm and fragrant.  His loincloth-covered hips pressed against the prince, 
moving ever so slightly.  He could feel Táro's shaft through it, rubbing 
against his.  Legolas's cock twitched.  Gods, he thought. What does he 
mean by this?  Is he seducing me?  Should I let him?  The thought excited 
and unnerved him.  
  
"You are too proud, my prince. You lack discipline.  A warrior must be 
humble. Must accept orders."  The weapons master stepped back and 
brought the knife before his face, turning it so that the well-honed blade 
glittered in the light that came in through the tunneled windows high 
above in the cave roof.   
  
"This exercise is called, ‘Warrior's Caress,'" Taro continued.  "It will help 
you learn control. Do not move or jump or the blade will bite your flesh.  
Don't look so alarmed."  A smile flickered across his face.  "You may ask 
me to stop if the exercise becomes too uncomfortable.  If you are unable to 
bear it any longer." 
  
Legolas nodded, scarcely breathing.  His heart thumped as Táro held the 
knife at an angle and began scraping it over his shoulder in long, feathery 
strokes.  "There is a fine line separating pain and pleasure," the elf 
continued.  "You have more control over this than you think. Your mind 
can move the line from one side of the threshold to the other."   
He moved down over Legolas's pectorals.  Suddenly the weapons master 
pinched his right nipple hard.  The prince yelped and jumped, immediately 
feeling a shock of pain dart through his upper chest.  He looked down and 
saw a tiny line of blood blossoming just above his left nipple.  Táro 
continued working the knife as if nothing had happened.  The prince felt 
his legs begin to tremble.   
  
"Does it hurt?" the weapons master continued. 
  
"No," Legolas said, although he still felt the sting.   
  
Táro grabbed his nipple and twisted it again.  
  
"Ow," Legolas cried, but this time he didn't move. 
  
"Don't lie to me prince?  Did that hurt?" 
  
"Valor, yes, Táro." 
  
"That's better. Focus on the pain. Relax into it.  Make it your friend." 
  
Legolas could feel throbbing along the wound and slowly he brightened 
the sensation and the burning became less troublesome.    
  
"That's right," Táro said as he scraped the blade down over the prince's 
sides, across his rippling abdominal muscles, down his loins. As his 
teacher moved lower, Legolas could feel himself harden. 
  
"Táro, I . . ." Legolas began as the weapons master drew the blade up 
alongside his balls, his face inches from Legolas's cock.  
  
"Are you asking me to stop?"  Táro glanced up at him with a slight smile.  
"Because I will if you can't take it." 
  
The prince trembled with the strain of keeping perfectly still and he was 
acutely aware of his burning skin where the blade had burnished it.  The 
weapons master's breath whispered past his member.  It was quite erotic, 
and to his horror, his shaft moved slowly upward as if it had a will of its 
own. 
  
Legolas felt his face turning red.  "It's just that I . . .  I can't help my body's 
reaction." 
  
Táro looked at the prince's cock and then up at him.  "The natural reaction 
of a true warrior, for whom the blade excites passion," he said.  "I thought 
this is how you would respond."  Then his voice became softer. "Legolas," 
he said.  "You are magnificent.  Will you let me teach you pleasure as well 
as pain?"  
  
"Pleasure?" Legolas said, his voice unsteady.  "What do you mean?" 
  
"I think you know, my lovely."  With one hand, Táro began caressing the 
prince's inner thighs.  The other continued moving the knife.   He stroked 
his hand over Legolas's balls, then cupped them, and the prince let out a 
gasp. He was now almost fully erect. 
  
"Táro, I have never. . .," the prince began. 
  
"Been with a male before?" asked the weapons master.   
  
"Yes." 
  
"And does this trouble you, because I will stop if it does."  
  
Legolas paused and took a breath. "No," he finally said. 
   
Táro continued moving the knife along his thighs, as he slid his hand 
around Legolas's cock and began stroking it slowly. Legolas watched, 
fascinated.  It felt too good.   
  
The weapons master leaned over and took Legolas's cock in his mouth, 
swirling his tongue over the head and then engulfing it completely.  The 
prince inhaled sharply and pressed back against the wall.  
  
Táro came off him.  "Do you like that?" he said.  
  
"Yes," Legolas breathed. 
  
"Keep still.  I have the knife on you," Táro said.  He lipped Legolas's cock, 
biting along the length gently before taking it completely back into his 
mouth and moving on him up and down, his tongue caressing him. 
  
Legolas was in ecstasy.  The presence of the knife pressed up against his 
thigh increased the feeling of dangerous excitement. He moaned and 
Táro's pace increased until the prince felt the tension mounting toward 
fulfillment.  He arched his hips forward, tightened his legs, reached down 
to steady himself on Táro's shoulders, and suddenly erupted with a sharp 
cry into the weapons master's mouth.   
  
He felt Táro swallow and continue gently mouthing him as pleasure 
flowed through the prince's groin. Finally, the weapons master released 
him, set down the knife and stood, sliding the length of his body against 
the prince as he did so. Legolas sighed. 
  
"Did you like that?" Táro said, nuzzling the prince's neck.  
  
"Gods forgive me, yes," said Legolas, rubbing his hips against his teacher. 
  
"Do you want more?" 
  
"More?"  
  
"The lesson is not over, yet, my lovely one," said Táro.  He pressed his 
lips to the prince's.  As Legolas slowly responded, Táro kissed him harder, 
then opened his mouth.  Legolas felt his warm tongue brush his. His 
mouth had a sweet, salty taste.  Legolas closed his eyes and surrendered.
 
"That's it," Táro said. "Give yourself over to me." The weapons master 
reached down and palmed the prince's softened shaft in a gentle caress.  
"Did you know, my prince, that I have wanted this for months now?  You 
are very beautiful. I denied my feelings until I sensed that you wanted it 
too, although you didn't know it consciously.  Are you sorry?"   
 
"No," Legolas breathed.  "I still don't believe this is happening." 
  
"Trust me now," Táro said.  "Remember you can control the line between 
pain and pleasure. Kneel down on the mat, on your hands and knees." 
  
Legolas crouched down, looked over his shoulder, and watched Táro untie 
the knots on his loincloth and allow it to slither to the floor.  His arousal 
was very evident. Legolas's eyes widened as the weapons master poured 
more oil on his hand and began stroking himself with a long, twisting 
motion.  He knelt next to Legolas, poured more oil over his rear, and the 
prince shivered as he felt it trickling down into his crack.  A finger worked 
its way to his opening, pushing into him, then slowly swirling about.  It 
tingled pleasantly.  Legolas heard the click as Táro set down the knife and 
then felt him insert two fingers, which burned him.  He ground his teeth 
together. 
  
"You are tense. Relax completely," Táro said.  "There is no better way to 
do this than all at once."  
 
The weapons master straddled his rear.  It seemed as if another finger, 
larger and blunt, was nudging at his opening. Oh gods, the prince thought 
and held his breath as Táro's long, slick shaft impaled him in one hard 
motion. The pain was intense.  He cried out and made an effort to squirm 
away from it, but Táro gripped him about the chest with both arms.  
  
"I know it hurts, now," he said.  "Relax into it, embrace it.  Move it into 
pleasure." 
  
"Uh, I can't," Legolas cried.  "Valar, it burns!" 
  
Táro shifted and pulled out part way and then pushed into him again.  "Are 
you a warrior?  Hardened to pain from blows and cold iron?  Think away 
the pain.  Here's something to help you." 
  
He thrust into him again and suddenly Legolas felt a jolt of delight.  He 
moaned, in pleasure this time. 
  
"Ah, did that one hit you right?" Táro asked.  "Try this."  Again the 
honeyed wave coursed through him and the pain began to shift away. 
  
"Yes, better, Táro." 
  
"Do you want more?" 
  
"Yes," Legolas groaned, "Valar, yes!" 
  
The weapons master began moving in a steady rhythm that built in speed 
and intensity, each time he sheathed himself completely sent another 
delicious ripple through the prince.  Legolas felt himself harden again as 
the pleasure spread throughout his hips.
Táro reached around and took Legolas's cock in his hand and began 
stroking him.   
  
"Uhhhhh," the prince cried as shortly afterward he came for the second 
time in hot spurts of pleasure.  Táro rammed into him even harder and 
then emitted a loud groan, the first sound of enjoyment Legolas had heard 
him utter.  He moved a few more slow paces, stopped, held still a while, 
then pulled out.  Legolas collapsed on the mat and Táro lay down next to 
him, caressing his back. 
  
"Was that so bad, now?" Táro asked, as Legolas stared into his sky blue 
eyes. 
  
Legolas smiled. He shyly reached around and grasped his teacher by the 
waist.  "I don't think I quite mastered that lesson," he said, then laughed at 
the quizzical look on Táro's face.  "I think I need a lot more practice."   
  
Táro laughed at that and leaned forward to kiss him. 
  
*******************   
In the month that followed, Legolas and Táro had continued the weapons 
training with a new intensity, often going to a secluded glade to practice. 
Afterwards the weapons master would lie with the prince, teaching him 
the way of passion. 
 
One morning after a particularly vigorous coupling, Legolas lay with his 
head on Táro's naked chest looking at the branches sighing overhead and 
the movement of the dappled light across their bodies.  The weapons 
master softly stroked Legolas's hair away from his face.
 
"Táro," Legolas said.
 
"Yes, my lovely."  
 
"Do you . . .  do you *care* for me?"
 
"Of course I do."
 
"No, I mean really care."  Legolas sat up and looked into his teacher's 
eyes.  "I need to know."
 
"It is not my place to fall in love with the son of my king," said Táro, 
looking away.
 
"Táro, I command you to answer my question!" the prince said harshly.
 
The weapons master turned back and looked deeply into the eyes of his 
charge.  "I didn't ask for this to happen," he said, "but I do care for you, 
very much."
 
"Do you love me?"  
 
"Legolas."
 
"Tell me!"
 
"You must be more guarded, Legolas.  Such love is not for the likes of you 
and I.  And I wouldn't want you to get hurt," said Táro.  He smiled grimly.  
"I know from experience that wounds to the heart take a longer time to 
heal than those of the flesh."
 
"I just know that being with you makes me happy," Legolas said.  
 
They heard a sound far off in the undergrowth.  A sharp snap of a twig.
 
"Who's there?" Táro called, sitting up and straining to listen. Legolas 
could hear naught but the tearing whistle of a hawk calling high above 
him. 
  
*******************  
Two days later, Táro arrived at practice time accompanied by another of 
Thranduil's guards.  The weapons master had a strained look on his face, 
though he smiled at Legolas when he saw him.  
  
"There's to be no practice today, mellon-nîn*," he said, "nor the day after." 
  
"Why not?" Legolas said.  He glanced coldly at Thrin, who stood with 
him.  "Thrin, you have my leave to go," he said.  
  
"I'm here at your father's orders," the guard said uncomfortably. 
  
"Then you will keep your mouth shut at *my* orders," said Legolas and 
he moved to embrace Táro.  The weapons master stepped back. 
  
"Forgive me, Prince.  The king is sending me to Lothlórien to train some 
of Celeborn's warriors." 
  
"When do you leave?" 
  
"Immediately," said Táro. 
  
"When will you return?" Legolas asked in despair. 
  
"Unknown, at present," said Táro.   
  
"He found out, didn't he!" cried Legolas.   
  
Táro glanced at Thrin. "I have been reminded of my station and duties," 
Táro said.   
  
"I will go talk to him.  I'll tell him my training isn't complete.  You have 
more to teach me." 
  
"Undoubtedly I do," Táro said with a slight smile.  "But there is nothing I 
can change about this."  
 
"No, you can't do this," Legolas cried and punched the weapons master 
hard in the chest.  Táro caught his hands before he could bring another 
blow. 
 
"I'm sorry, my Prince.  I'll see you again. Don't forget what you've 
learned." 
 
"Never," said Legolas. Táro gave him a quick embrace and moved to pull 
away but Legolas grasped him hard.   
  
"Remember the line between pain and pleasure," said Táro. "Time to 
redraw it now."  He bent forward and kissed him, then pushed out of 
Legolas's grasp and held the prince by the forearms.  "You've been a 
superb pupil.  One of my best."  He smiled and then turned on his heel and 
left.   
  
Thrin gave Legolas an apologetic glance and followed him.  
  
Legolas watched him go and exploded with rage.  Where was his father 
now?  By the gods, he'd tell him what he thought about this. He raced 
through the twisting corridors of the palace.  Outside the study door, he 
ran into Talagan, his father's seneschal. 
  
"Where is the king?" he demanded.  
 
"Here, in the study.  He says not to be disturbed.  What do you wish?" 
  
"Did you know that he sent Táro to Lothlórien?" 
  
"Yes," Talagan said carefully. 
  
"Why would he do such a thing?  I was getting better at combat than I've 
ever been," Legolas said.   
  
"Legolas, did you often practice in a dell in the woods?" the seneschal 
asked. 
  
"Yes, in good weather." 
  
"It is possible that someone observed Táro's training methods, reported 
them to your father, and he found them not to his liking." 
  
"Who did that? Was it you?"  Legolas brandished his fists.  
  
Talagan stepped back.  "No," he said.   "But if I were you, I would let it 
rest." 
  
"I can't," Legolas shouted, opening the study door and closing it behind 
him with a bang.  In short order, Talagan heard raised voices.  He sighed. 
  
A messenger approached and bowed. "Seneschal, King Náin II has arrived 
with a delegation of dwarves." 
  
From the next room the sound of angry voices grew louder and then there 
was a crash of breaking glass. The messenger turned his head 
inquisitively.  
  
"Um.  I'll tell the king . . . later," Talagan said.   
  
******************* 
mellon-nîn - my friend 
  
-tbc-
 


Swords and Seduction: Mirkwood Alliances 
by elfscribe, elfscribe5@yahoo.com 
For disclaimers and all that jazz, see chapter 1
 
***********************************
Chapter 3 -   Hospitality
 
"I tell you Talagan, the whole palace stinks of dwarf.  How long has that curséd Náin been here 
now?"  King Thranduil began pacing again as his seneschal deftly moved after him, trying to get 
the draping in his cape to fall right. Talagan clicked his tongue in annoyance as the king moved 
again.   
 
"Well past a fortnight," Talagan said.  "I beg you to hold still a minute, my Lord."
 
"I can't abide another banquet with them," growled the king. "How can two dozen dwarves eat and 
drink so much? They are going through my storehouses like starving rats. We've already had to 
send out the hunters for a new supply of meat and they've drunk most of my good wine. Their jokes 
are bad, their songs tiresome, not to mention their atrocious table manners. Since when do dwarves 
belch to show appreciation for a good meal?  I never heard of such a custom! And Náin still hasn't 
brought up the reason for his visit.  Instead, he seems too interested in my warriors and their 
capabilities. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was scouting us out for an invasion."  
 
Thranduil paused in his stride and clenched both fists.  "Talagan, I may just have to kill him if he 
doesn't leave soon."
 
"Not too wise," Talagan said, "King Náin II has many relatives."      
 
"Well then, *you* find me a solution.  You're my seneschal and in charge of the household. Isn't 
this your concern?"  
 
Talagan looked up in alarm.  "My Lord, what would you have me do, poison the wine?"
 
Thranduil threw back his leonine head of blond hair and laughed.  "No, but that's a fine idea.  
Maybe not kill them, just make them very sick."
 
"You can't be serious," Talagan said.
 
"Perhaps, perhaps not.  You figure out a way to get rid of these confounded dwarves, before I do 
something I'll regret.  And leave that!  It looks fine.  Who needs to impress the curséd dwarves 
anyway?"
 
Talagan noticed a scaly creature with a toothy face, leathery wings, and long tail creep out of a 
crack and scuttle across the face of the rock.  "Sire, look another one," he said.
 
The king looked up and clapped his hand to his forehead.  "Curse of Mandos, a fire lizard!  Send 
someone in here to kill it before it stinks up the place. Then have someone find the nest and get rid 
of them.  Valar, plagues of all kinds: dwarves and lizards.  Which is worse, I ask you? "
 
Talagan sighed as the king swept out of the room.  Ah yes, dwarves and lizards. More difficult and 
embarrassing tasks. Did the king ever get tired of assigning them? How long had he served 
Thranduil now? Over 1,000 years, and the king was as volatile, brilliant, and indeed, fascinating as 
ever.  
 
He tapped his finger on his lips.  Perhaps, the key to sending Náin on his way home to the Grey 
Mountains was finding out why he had come here in the first place.
 
********************
Legolas sat slouched in his chair, staring moodily into space as one of his attendants attempted to 
braid his hair.
 
"Ai, Ninde, you're pulling," he complained.
 
"And you've been in a foul mood for several weeks now, my Lord," she said and gave his hair a 
hard jerk.  "I just wanted to see if you even noticed I was here."
 
"I'm sorry, meleth.  It's just that . . ."
 
"It's just that the king sent Táro away.  I know the reason," she pursed her lips as she deftly finished 
the braid and banded the end.
 
"I didn't know that was a general subject of conversation," Legolas growled.  
 
"You forget that I know you quite well, my Lord." Ninde smiled. "I have observed your mood over 
the last few months. I know that the king sent off the captain of the guard rather hastily and that, 
since then, you have been unbearable."
 
Legolas pulled her around to sit sideways on his lap, wrapping one arm around her slim waist. "I 
am sorry. I should not have taken my anger out on you.  It's just that Father treats me like an elfling 
still.  I can't leave Mirkwood.  He has me training at weapons all the time and he has made it 
impossible for me to indulge in certain, ah, other activities."
 
Ninde's laugh was like bells.  "Are you in need of relief then, Prince?  I wish I could help in that 
regard."  
 
"Perhaps you could."  He leaned forward and kissed her.  Sighing, she closed her eyes and returned 
the kiss.  Her lips felt soft and warm.  Legolas put his other arm around her, drawing her close, and 
began kissing down her neck. 
  
"Ai gods, what am I doing!" Ninde cried, pulling out of his grasp.  She slid off his lap. 
  
"I thought we were just reestablishing an old friendship." Legolas smiled at her. 
  
"Oh, my Lord, we will always be friends, I hope. But those few occasions were a mistake.  I know 
it and so do you.  Besides,  I certainly don't want to get sent to Lothlórien."  She put the hairbrush 
back in a drawer, slamming it hard. 
     
Legolas frowned, stood, and stalked about his room.  He picked up a book and flung it against the 
wall.  Ninde sighed and went over to pick it up.  
 
"Has my father condemned me to celibacy until I make a suitable marriage?" Legolas continued. "I 
hate this and I hate him, and I won't marry in any case." 
  
"Did you love him?" Ninde asked, her blue eyes sympathetic.  She hugged the book to her chest. 
  
"Who?" 
  
"Táro." 
  
"I thought I did," Legolas said. "I miss him dreadfully. But I have a feeling now, a feeling that 
something else will happen soon   I don't know . . ." he broke off and passed a hand over his brow. 
"Ninde, perhaps it is simply that I am bored.  I want to see new landscapes, have adventures." 
  
"The future is open to you and we cannot know what lies ahead." She came over to him and pressed 
her lips to his cheek, then giggled.  "And I will confess that I miss our trysts, but I have Calimehtar 
now to think of."  
  
"He had best treat you right or he'll answer to an ‘old friend.'" Legolas smiled at her fondly, then 
sighed. "I guess I have to go sit through another banquet with my father and our guests.  I'd much 
rather go outside and run under the stars." 
  
"Well, I must be running myself to clean up those dwarves' rooms before I get in trouble with 
Talagan," she said.  "Be off, now." She gave him a little shove. "Don't forget, we are not always 
free to do what we wish.  You have your duties, the same as I."
 
*************************  
 
"There is good craftsmanship in the delving of this palace," King Náin said, pointing to a  tall 
column that stood near his chair in the banquet hall.  "Done by dwarves many ages ago, was it 
not?"
 
"Yes, so my father tells me," said Legolas.  "I wasn't around to see it."  He suppressed a yawn.
 
"I read it in our histories," said Náin.  "I have composed a song about it in honor of your father.  Do 
you think he'd care to hear it?" 
 
Legolas looked at the end of the long banquet table where his father was jesting with Legolas's 
older brother Feredir and his wife.  The king had suggested Legolas sit with Náin this evening "to 
learn some diplomacy."  Legolas wasn't fooled.  He was still out of favor due to his defiance over 
Táro and his subsequent refusal to speak to his father except when duty required it.  
 
The dwarf king was looking at him earnestly. 
 
"I'm sure he'd be most pleased to hear it. Perhaps after dinner." Legolas smiled to himself.
 
"Ah, Prince, do you know what a magnificent father you have?" Náin said.  "I wasn't sure I would 
like him.  His reputation is . . .  somewhat erratic.  But in these last weeks, I have grown to 
appreciate him. So strong, so passionate."  Legolas looked at the dwarf king sharply.  Had he heard 
a sigh accompanying those words?  He pursed his lips together to avoid laughing. Yes, it would 
serve his father right.
 
"I think your first assessment was accurate . . . somewhat erratic," Legolas said. "But it is true that 
he is like no one else I've met or heard of."   
 
"You seem to take after him, Prince, certainly in looks."
 
"I have heard that said," Legolas replied. "You flatter me."
 
Náin reached up and touched Legolas's hair, pulling a strand of it through his fingers.  "This color 
is so rare among my people.  The color of gold, a dwarf's desire."  
 
The dwarf's face was flushed.  He must be getting drunk, Legolas thought, for him to take such 
liberties.  The prince feigned a cough that allowed him to move away from the dwarf king.
 
There was a stir at the hall entrance.  
 
All the court turned their heads as several guards marched in.  They were escorting two tall, dark-
haired elves who had their hands tied behind them.  Interested, Legolas sat up to get a better look as 
the guards brought them close. His heart leapt at the sight. They were mirror images of one another, 
and oh, so beautiful: long silky dark hair, high cheek bones, shapely lips. They each wore a small 
diamond stud in one ear that caught the light as they moved, one wore it in the right ear, the other 
in the left. But it was the light within their large wolf-like grey eyes that most captivated the 
prince. 
   
They had clearly been through some sort of misfortune. Their clothes were stained and wrinkled, 
their hair disheveled. One wore a surcoat and mailshirt over a long tunic, but the other was wearing 
only leggings and boots and a cloak that, when he moved, revealed flashes of white skin beneath. 
Legolas found himself holding his breath waiting for the next glimpse of that lithe body.
 
"King Thranduil, we captured these two several miles from here.  They said they needed to see you 
as soon as possible,"  said one of the guards.
 
The twins scanned the group, then they made a courteous bow toward Thranduil. 
 
"King Thranduil," said one in a rich, musical voice, "We bring greetings from our father."
 
Thranduil got up and walked toward them, a sardonic smile on his face. "Well now, what a 
surprise! Elladan and Elrohir, the infamous twin sons of Elrond Peredhel."  He twitched aside the 
long cape and looked at the twin's bare chest.  "Is this the new fashion at Imladris?"  
 
"You have me at a disadvantage," said the second twin, in a voice as beautiful as his brother's. "I do 
not travel this way out of choice. We ran into some brigands at Esgaroth and barely escaped with 
our lives."
 
"But not, I see, with your tunic," Thranduil said, and there was a titter of laughter from his court. "I 
think I know the ruffians you are referring to.  They have been harassing the woodmen who live on 
our borders. It is time we dealt with them. I hope you made them pay for their discourtesy?"
 
"Not near enough," said the first twin. 
 
Thranduil nodded. "You may release them," he said to the guards who cut the twins' bonds.  The 
pair rubbed their wrists and looked at Thranduil expectantly.
 
"Why were you at Esgaroth?" Thranduil asked.
 
"On our father's orders, we were scouting in the Grey Mountains and the Withered Heath. We'd 
planned to replenish our supplies in Esgaroth before taking the Old Forest road through Mirkwood 
toward home," said the first twin.
 
"Elladan, is it?" asked Thranduil.
 
The peredhel inclined his head.  "You remember well, King."  
 
Thranduil said.  "As I recall, you abused my hospitality when last you were here. I told you not to 
return." 
 
"Our sincere apologies, King Thranduil. It was never our intention to trouble you," said Elladan.  
He paused and lowered his voice. "We have made some discoveries in the northern wastes and 
have information you may find interesting.  We are willing to trade it in return for your help getting 
supplies for the journey back to Imladris."
 
"You hardly seem in a position to bargain." Thranduil stroked his chin thoughtfully, then turned to 
look at King Náin.  "You hear that Náin? They've been in your country and have news worth 
hearing."
 
"I would learn it also, Thranduil," Náin said.  "I imagine it concerns me and my people even more 
than yours."
 
"Very well, I'll hear your information and see whether it corresponds with my knowledge," 
Thranduil said.  "I've been thinking of sending some scouts that way myself."  The king walked 
around them, looking them over. 
 
Legolas barely remembered Elrond's sons as he had been an elfling, in his late 20s, when last they 
were here, but he had heard of them.  They were said to be scholars and artists as well as skilled 
warriors and, curiously, that they were never apart from each other.  The rumor spoke of surpassing 
beauty even among elves, although they were not of pure blood.  Legolas thought the rumor didn't 
do the reality justice. 
 
But something else about them intrigued him now: an amused air of self-assurance.  They were 
carrying themselves very haughtily for supplicants to the king.  Their bows were not nearly low 
enough and they stood proudly, even in their disreputable condition, meeting his father's gaze.  Did 
they actually imagine themselves equals?  He had rarely seen anyone who was not afraid of his 
father and this, almost more than anything else, caught his interest. What had they done before to 
invoke the king's wrath?  Knowing his father, it could have been almost anything.
 
"Never let it be said that I am less than generous or that I can't forgive past wrongs," the 
king addressed the twins.  "It is time your father and I forged a stronger alliance.  Change is coming 
and not for the better."  
 
He flashed a white smile and even Legolas had to admit that his father could be charming.
 
"As I recall, you two were fairly good with your swords," Thranduil continued slyly. "King Náin 
has been quite interested in elven battle skills.  Perhaps you could earn your keep by entertaining 
him with a demonstration."
 
"Whatever you wish, King Thranduil," said Elladan. 
 
"We are yours to command," said the bare-chested one who must be Elrohir.
 
"I have my own champions here," Thranduil said.  "My two sons are quite skilled themselves." He 
turned and addressed the dwarf king. "Perhaps, Náin, it would make a good contest: the sons of 
Elrond against the sons of Thranduil?"
 
"I look forward to it eagerly," Náin said, rising and bowing. 
 
"Maybe your coming was fortuitous," Thranduil continued.  "I would imagine that you'd want to 
get cleaned up and take food and some rest before such a demonstration.  We'll put it off until 
tomorrow."
 
"That would be most welcome," said Elladan while Elrohir nodded, his shoulders sagging visibly.  
 
"Talagan," Thranduil said.  "Assign these two lodgings and get them some clothes, especially that 
one."  He gestured at Elrohir.    
 
"You have earned the gratitude of Imladris," said Elladan.  The twins bowed, deeper this time.
 
"Yes, of course," said Thranduil impatiently and he waved his hand in dismissal as Talagan rose to 
escort the twins out. 
 
Legolas saw Elrohir slide his eyes in his direction.  They locked glances and Elrohir winked.  
Legolas felt a jolt in his gut. It happened so quickly that he couldn't even be sure of it.  He blinked 
and looked again, but the twins had turned their backs to leave the room.  
 
Such impertinence, the prince thought. He could well imagine they had done something to make his 
father banish them, but now his curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
 
"Will you excuse me?"  He said to Náin, and rose.
 
Náin stood and bowed, his thick sable beard brushing the table.  "I look forward to your 
demonstration tomorrow, Prince."  Then he turned to Thranduil and said in a loud voice, "My good 
and dear King, once again we are deep in your debt for providing such a sumptuous banquet.  
Allow me to express my delight."  
 
He laid a hand on his belly and his lips moved sideways as a tremendous belch echoed through the 
hall.  Like a chorus of bull frogs, the rest of his entourage followed suit.  
 
Thranduil winced. 
 
Náin looked around and nodded. "And now, in thanks for your hospitality, I would like to sing a 
song I composed about the building of your great halls." 
 
A look of utter horror flashed across his father's face.  Legolas covered his mouth and fled the hall 
quickly before bursting into laughter.
 
-tbc-


Swords and Seduction: Mirkwood Alliances
by elfscribe, elfscribe5@yahoo.com
For disclaimers and all that jazz, see chapter 1

****************************************

Chapter 4 - Legolas's Curiosity


"Ah brother, this is bliss!" Elrohir said.

The minute Talagan had left them alone in their room, Elrohir had taken off 
the cloak and fallen onto one of the beds, landing full on his back and 
spreading out his arms.

"Agreed," said Elladan. "That went much better than expected." He drew his 
surcoat over his head and sat down on the bed next to his twin. "Meleth, 
undo this for me."

"Clearly Thranduil has heard something that worries him," said Elrohir as he 
sat up and unlaced the back of Elladan's mail. "To our advantage, Elladan. 
Our luck has taken a positive turn."

"I think it would be prudent to withhold some of our information as a 
bargaining chip," said Elladan. "You noticed King Náin? I wonder why he's 
here? Could he be seeking an alliance with Thranduil?"

"Unknown, and at the moment, I don't care," Elrohir said. "I just hope 
supper comes soon. You know we've had nothing to eat for two days now and 
I'm famished. There, you're done."

Elladan drew the heavy mail off his arms and set it down on the floor. He 
turned to Elrohir. "I am hungry as well," he said and climbed on top of his 
brother, "for something food can't satisfy."

Elrohir laughed and attempted to push him off. "They will be returning any 
moment," he said.

Elladan ran his tongue along his twin's throat. "We will hear them long 
before they see us," he said. "Looking at you half-naked like this has 
nearly driven me mad. I long to share more than we were able to last night 
in the woods."

"You are insatiable, brother. Just the way I like you." Elrohir grinned up 
at him. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"I think you could make me come just by looking at me like that," Elladan 
said.

"I'd like to try it," said Elrohir, tracing his finger over his twin's lips. 
"You know what I've been thinking?"

"I can guess, but speak your mind."

"I was thinking that Thranduil's youngest son is stunning, more so than we 
could have hoped."

"Agreed." Elladan began lazily nibbling along Elrohir's chest. "But we 
wouldn't want to jeopardize our position here by seducing him."

"Don't back out of this now! You were the one who suggested it in the first 
place," said Elrohir.

"Did I? I could have sworn it was you." Elladan smiled. "Yes, I would 
certainly enjoy sharing him with you, but we have to be practical."

Elrohir rolled on top of Elladan. "You do remember, don't you," he 
whispered, "how much more intense our communion is, when we connect through 
another? How the pleasure is enhanced by the sensations from our partner? 
We don't feel the guilt when we do that. It is all rapture!"

Elladan looked deeply into Elrohir's eyes, which glowed with a lust that 
made Elladan gasp. "It's been too long, brother," Elrohir continued. "I want 
him. You must do this for me." He ground his hips into Elladan's groin.

"Uthaes-nîn*, you know I can't refuse you anything, especially if you ask in 
that manner," Elladan replied. He grasped his brother's rear, feeling the 
tight round buttocks through the thin fabric of his leggings, as he pushed 
their loins closer together. Elladan's shaft was hardening, rubbing against 
his twin. He rolled Elrohir back underneath him and began kissing his neck. 
"Tell me what you want to do to him."

"I want to slowly take off all his clothes, caressing and kissing every part 
of his skin as it is revealed to my eyes. Can you imagine how beautiful he 
is? How delicate the line of his throat, how hard the muscles in his chest, 
how long his shaft?"

"Yes, I can see him," said Elladan whispered. "Tell me more."

"We would lay him down between us on the bed and you would kiss his backside 
and I would ply my fingers over him, touching everywhere but his cock until 
he begged me to take him in my mouth. I would oblige. I can smell his 
aroused musk, feel his slick need on my tongue. I will entertain him, 
brother, until he is crying for release."

"I want to watch that, úthaes-nîn. I love to see you reduce an elf to a 
quivering mass."

"Then you will take him from behind, pounding into his tightness while I 
continue sucking on him. We will sense each other, our minds connecting and 
becoming one, our pleasure amplified by his. I will feel you thrusting 
inside him as if it were me you were taking. As so it will seem to you. You 
will feel him as me, my heat, my passion for you. He will moan and then 
come in my mouth, a pulsing, throbbing, mind-melting orgasm and then become 
so tight and hot that you will spill yourself inside him. I will feel both 
your ecstasy and his and I will cry out as we come together."

"Oh, gods, Elro meleth, I cannot resist you when you talk like that," 
Elladan said, flexing his hips against his brother. "But he'll discover our 
relationship through the connection."

"We can seal his memory, meleth, as we've done before. You are making 
excuses," Elrohir snorted.

"All right, I'm just trying to be prudent here, but I can see lust has made 
you reckless. What is our plan for bedding this elf?" Elladan began 
swirling his tongue around his twin's sensitive ear tip.

"If we play it right, he'll come to us. I saw it in his eyes tonight, that 
unmistakable look of hunger," Elrohir said, and then burst into laughter. 
"You are tickling me!"

"I could tickle you in better places," Elladan said as he closed his mouth 
onto his twin's.

There was a knock on the door and the twins leapt from the bed. Elrohir sat 
at a writing desk while Elladan tugged down his tunic to cover his aroused 
state and went to the door.

Thranduil's youngest son entered the room, accompanied by two elves carrying 
bundles of clothing.

"Set them on that bed," the prince instructed, "and you may go." The elves 
bowed to him and left.


Elladan glanced sideways at his brother and their eyes met. Elrohir looked 
smug. Elladan knew exactly what his twin was thinking. See, I told you 
he'd come to us. And so soon!

Then Elladan looked back at the prince and his reservations vanished. Ah 
yes, his brother was right. The prince had a face to break hearts: large, 
jewel-bright sapphire eyes framed with long eyelashes and straight, dark 
brows; high cheekbones, lips ripe for kissing; his hair a silken gold 
waterfall; and a tall, graceful body that Elladan longed to touch and make 
Elrohir's words come true.

The prince looked at him and bowed. "I do not believe we've made a formal 
acquaintance," he said. "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

"Elladan, son of Elrond," said the twin, "and my brother . . ."

"Elrohir," his twin finished as he rose from the desk and bowed.

"Honored to meet the sons of Elrond," Legolas said, his eyes lingering for a 
moment on the twin's bare chest.

"We have met before," said Elladan, "though you may not remember it."

"I was young and did not much pay attention to matters concerning my 
elders," said Legolas. "I know better now." He gestured at the bundles on 
the bed. "I hope the clothes fit. We had to guess at the size. I can have 
a tailor come and adjust them if not. Dinner will be here soon." He seemed 
somewhat uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other.

"We would like to thank you and your father for your hospitality, and we are 
honored that you brought the gifts yourself," Elrohir said. He went over to 
the pile on the bed, selected a soft grey tunic, and pulled it over his 
head. Elladan saw that he took longer at it than needed, stretching and 
turning so Legolas could look his fill. What a tease he is, Elladan thought 
affectionately.

The prince had averted his gaze politely, but glanced up several times. "I 
must confess I came to satisfy my curiosity," Legolas said.

"Oh?" both twins said simultaneously.

"What did you do to cause my father's anger when last you were here?"

The twins laughed and looked at each other.

"He's direct and doesn't waste words. I like that in an elf," said Elladan. 
"So I will be equally direct. We bedded your cousin."

"Ah," Legolas laughed, and then his face grew hard. "Was it against 
Ondollo's will then?"

"Hardly," Elrohir said. "He was more than willing. So, we couldn't 
understand why your father reacted so badly."

"You don't know him." Legolas sighed and shook his head. "He likes to 
control everything and everybody around him."

Elrohir moved to a fireplace at the end of the room that had a small fire 
burning in it. Nearby stood a heavy oak table and several chairs. He drew 
out a chair and turned with an inviting smile. "Perhaps you'd like to come 
talk about it. We are all the sons of great lords. Most likely we have 
much in common."

There was a loud knock at the door, which Legolas opened to admit a half 
dozen elves carrying heavy trays of food and bottles of wine. He stood back 
while they moved swiftly about the table laying out plates, cups, and food. 
The rich smells of meat and bread filled the air. Elladan's mouth watered 
as he realized how famished he was.

When the elves had finished setting the table, a lovely maiden said, "My 
lord, shall we wait upon you and our guests?"

"That will not be necessary, Ninde." Legolas smiled at her.

Elladan noticed that her face softened. Her returning smile and the hand she 
laid on Legolas's arm suggested more than a casual acquaintance. Ah, he 
thought, the prince is not completely innocent of sensuality.

The three sat and the twins fell on the food without hesitation. "You must 
forgive us, Legolas. We've not eaten in days," said Elrohir as delicately 
as he could around a mouthful of pheasant.

***********************************

As the twins ate, Legolas sat back in his chair, sipping a glass of pale 
yellow wine and studying them. He noticed how they moved in relation to one 
another, like partners who have danced together for years, neither hindering 
the other. Something plucked at his thoughts. *We* bedded your cousin, 
Elladan had said. Not I or he, but we. The thought of two of them at once 
sent a shiver through his groin. He would have pressed his cousin Ondollo 
for information about the experience, except that he was gone, patrolling 
the southern borders of their land.

"Which of you is the elder?" Legolas asked.

"I saw daylight for the first time moments before my twin," said Elladan.

"Yes, and he's never let me forget it," laughed Elrohir.

"I have not known twins before," said Legolas. "It must make for a close 
relationship."

The twins glanced quickly at each other.

"You could say that," Elladan replied.

"So we are to face each other in combat tomorrow," Legolas said.

"We'll try and go easy on you," Elrohir grinned.

"I was going to say that my brother and I would try not to embarrass you," 
Legolas replied, with a slow smile.

"It won't be much of a contest if we're holding back," Elladan said.

"I expect you to give it your all," said Legolas.

"Have no fear of that," said Elrohir.

"What is your favorite weapon?" asked Legolas, leaning forward.

"The two-handed sword," said Elladan.

"One and a half-handed," said Elrohir, "with a shield."

"Now, you have already told me something about yourselves," said Legolas. 
"Elladan likes the powerful, direct approach and takes the offensive. 
Elrohir is quick and versatile. He likes the defensive posture."

Both twins sat back in their chairs with smiles slowly blooming on their 
faces.

"He's not a neophyte," said Elrohir to his brother.

"No, indeed. What is *your* favorite weapon, then, Prince?" asked Elladan.

"The bow," said Legolas.

"You have a good eye and quick reflexes, but you prefer to keep your enemies 
at a distance. Very wise," said Elrohir. "What about hand to hand?"

"Long knives," said Legolas.

"Good to employ when the arrows are spent," said Elladan. "Then, you are not 
afraid to get close and grapple with your opponent, if necessary. I think 
I'm going to enjoy testing your skill tomorrow."

"Do you know why your father desires our combat?" asked Elrohir.

"No, but I can tell you that he has a reason. He always does. It may be 
nothing more than trying to distract Náin from singing another of his 
songs." Legolas grinned.

"And why is Náin here?" asked Elladan.

"No one knows," said Legolas.

"No one knows?" repeated Elladan blinking. "Does he often visit?"

"This is the first time he's ever been here and the first time he and my 
father have met," said Legolas. "But whatever the initial reason for the 
visit, I think I know why he stays."

"Yes?"

"I believe he's developed an . . . uh . . . affection for my father."

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other and smiled.

"Does Thranduil know of this?" asked Elrohir.

"I don't believe so, or I imagine he'd throw the dwarf king out on his ear," 
Legolas said.

"This could be a good thing," said Elladan with a grin, "a way to seal an 
alliance between elves and dwarves."

Legolas burst into laughter. "It would be over my father's dead body. He 
dislikes dwarves, due to bad experiences centuries ago."

"Unfortunate attitude. I've known several dwarves quite well. Courageous. 
No one better to stand beside you in battle," said Elladan. "Your father 
holds a number of strong opinions, which brings me to the topic we began 
earlier. Why did he care so much about our dalliance with his nephew?"

"I am not sure. He is a traditionalist and wants us to make suitable 
marriages, but there must be something beyond that which he has not chosen 
to reveal. I find it irritating in the extreme." Legolas frowned and 
drummed his fingers against his glass.

"And why is that, mellon-nîn?*" asked Elladan.

Legolas looked into his beautiful face, open now and kind, and his eyes, oh, 
he was drawn into those hypnotic eyes: a light grey with a dark ring around 
the iris, shining with a wolf-like intensity and intelligence. He turned to 
Elrohir and found the same eyes regarding him, eyes that laughed with a 
sensuous mischief. So dangerous, these two, Legolas thought. I must not 
underestimate them.

"I also have experienced my father's interference with my relationships," 
Legolas confessed.

"What happened?" asked Elrohir.

"He sent my lover to Lothlórien."

"And no one has taken that individual's place?" asked Elladan carefully.

"No one. He was unique," the prince said. A slight sigh escaped him. He 
saw a lascivious look dart between the twins.

"Did you know your father's feelings about your relationships before you 
took a lover?" Elladan asked.

"Yes."

"And yet you did so anyway," Elrohir said.

"I couldn't help myself," said Legolas.


"Then what would keep you from doing it again?" asked Elladan.


Legolas shook his head, suddenly feeling young and confused. He looked at 
Elrohir and discovered him licking grease from his fingers, sucking them 
with a delicate popping sound. Elrohir's eyes lifted and met Legolas's. The 
twin slipped his entire middle finger into his mouth and drew it out slowly.

A warm rush flooded Legolas.

The prince set down his empty glass and stood up. "You two are trouble. I 
can see that," he said. "I think I'd better go and let you rest before our 
contest tomorrow." He bowed. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company."

The twins got up and returned the bow. "Until tomorrow," Elladan said.

Elrohir merely gave the prince a dazzling smile. Legolas retreated, fumbled 
at the door latch, and left the room. As he wandered down the twisting 
corridor, he began to grin. Thoughts that had been occupied by the 
silver-haired weapons master now turned to the ebony-haired peredhil.

**************************
*Meleth - love
*úthaes-nîn - my temptation
*mellon-nîn - my friend

*************************



Chapter 5 -   Sword Play
 
As soon as Legolas left the room Elrohir looked at Elladan in triumph.  
"He's ours," he said.  "It's only a matter of time."
 
"You may be right, meleth," Elladan replied.  "But it would be prudent to 
wait until we've gathered our supplies for the homeward journey.  I 
wouldn't fancy trying to get through Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains 
with nothing to eat but bark and rainwater!"
 
"I know we must be careful.  No one will know," said Elrohir.  "He is ripe 
for the taking.  Ah, I can feel him on my tongue!"   
 
"You are really smitten by him, aren't you?" Elladan took Elrohir's chin in 
his fingers.  "Just remember who your first love is," he said and kissed his 
twin hard.
 
"Jealous already, brother?" Mischief lit Elrohir's eyes. "I think you should 
make me forget about the lovely Mirkwood prince."
 
"Like so, Elro meleth?" Elladan said.  
 
Standing up suddenly, Elladan wrapped his arms around his twin's chest, 
hauling him sideways out of the chair onto the carpet. Before Elrohir had a 
chance to move, Elladan was on top of him tickling until Elrohir was 
laughing and writhing on the floor.  How Elladan loved the familiar feel of 
his brother between his legs. His twin's jerking movements jostled against 
Elladan's cock, fueling his desire.
 
Elladan hauled off Elrohir's boots, rapidly unlaced his leggings, and pulled 
those off as well while the younger twin teasingly struggled against him.  
He pushed Elrohir's tunic up and over his head to reveal his broad 
shoulders and long, slender torso delineated with muscle.  So beautiful!  
Elladan ran his hand over his twin's solid chest, pinching his nipples.  He 
wanted desperately to thrust himself deep within his brother, to feel their 
connection.  He had waited so long for this.
 
Elrohir's cheeks were flushed as he looked at Elladan suggestively. "What 
are you going to do now?  You've still got your clothes on and the minute 
you get up, I'll run off."
 
Elladan jumped up, ran across the room, and slid the bolt across the door.  
"Alas for you dear brother! You can't get out and there's nowhere to hide." 
 
He came back, peeling off his clothes as he went, pausing to pull off his 
boots, then sliding the leggings down over his hips to reveal a very erect 
member.
 
Elrohir leapt to his feet, his eyes widened in mock horror.  "Gods, brother, 
what is that monster between your legs?  You weren't thinking of using 
that on me, were you?"
 
"The thought had occurred to me," said Elladan.  He went to the table and 
scooped some softened butter from a plate which he rubbed all over his 
cock. "Come here now, you wicked thing, and get what you deserve!" he 
called. 
 
Laughing, Elrohir danced away, putting the bed between himself and his 
brother.  They circled each other, feinting to the right, then the left. Elrohir 
made a dash for the other side of the room, but Elladan darted out an arm, 
caught him on the shoulder, and spun him around, then pushed him onto 
the bed.  
 
Elladan landed on top of his twin and began tickling him again until 
Elrohir was helplessly out of breath with laughter.  His brother's skin felt 
so warm and smooth against his own.  Their cocks rubbed, tingled, and 
slipped by each other, like swords in battle.  
 
Elladan stopped tickling, leaned forward, and captured his twin's laughing 
mouth, kissing him deeply, feeling Elrohir's passion rising. Elladan finally 
broke away and began kissing down his brother's torso.  He hovered 
teasingly, right above Elrohir's straining member, then bent to lap quickly 
at the head, reveling in the salty-sweet taste of the slick fluid. His brother 
wriggled and moaned.  
 
"Do you want it?" Elladan asked between licks.
 
"Uhh," Elrohir inhaled harshly.
 
Elladan sat up.  "Not good enough, meleth.  Tell me!" 
 
"Yes, yes, by the gods, you make me so hot!" Elrohir cried.
 
The elder twin plunged his mouth down onto his brother's cock, feeling 
the hard column push against the back of his throat.  He began moving 
rapidly up and down.
   
"Uhhhh! Oh Valar's gifts, that's good," Elrohir cried in ecstasy, thrusting 
his hips. "Ah, I love your mouth." 
 
Elladan came off of him.  "Tell me how it feels."
 
"Make the connection and you'll know for yourself," moaned Elrohir.  
"Ah, yes, suck it hard, like that. Now take it, deep down your throat.  Like 
that.  Uh, yes."
 
Elladan brought him to the brink of release, delighting in his brother's 
cries of pleasure.  Then he pulled off and Elrohir sighed in 
disappointment.  
 
"I have something better for you than my mouth," Elladan said.  
 
Elrohir propped himself up on an elbow and eyed him seductively. "Now, 
what could that be, I wonder." 
 
Elladan moved backward off the bed and began stroking his own 
cock. "This is what I have for you," he purred, as he watched Elrohir's 
eyes close briefly, his lips part.
 
Suddenly, Elladan grabbed his twin, hauled him to the edge of the bed, 
and pulled his legs up onto his shoulders.  He positioned himself at 
Elrohir's entrance, then hesitated and looked into his brother's eyes.  "Are 
you sure, meleth?" he asked in a gentle voice.
 
Elrohir's eyes were smoky with lust. "Do it," he said. "Now! Before I think 
better of it."
 
Elladan ran his buttery hand down over his twin's buttocks, rubbing slick 
fingers over his entrance, then penetrated him with a quick thrust.  Elrohir 
arched his back, shook his head, and released a breathy moan.
 
"You feel that, don't you," Elladan said. "And this one."
 
"Higher," groaned Elrohir. "Oh yes, yes, that's it. Fuck me, brother! 
Hard!"  
 
Elladan braced his hands on the bed and leaned forward, ramming into 
him. Ah gods, he felt good, the fit so perfect.  
 
Elrohir folded his knees back and out, opening himself more fully to his 
lover, spreading his arms wide as his body was rocked forward and back 
by the force of Elladan's thrusts. The bed began creaking. The younger 
twin reached down and took himself in hand, his face contorted with 
pleasure. 
 
"That's so good," Elrohir moaned.  "Only you fill me so well. Only you. 
No other."
 
Elladan felt himself merging with his brother, their thoughts leaping 
toward each other, becoming one. Utulien,* he thought, We connect. I feel 
you Elro meleth, úthaes-nin, my desired one. The joy of their union, the 
feeling of completion that he longed for overwhelmed him. 
 
"Elladan, my bliss, gîl hűnen*, take me," gasped Elrohir.  "Oh gods, I'm 
coming!" Elrohir threw back his head, emitting a long, strangled cry as his 
cock pulsed thick, creamy drops on both their chests.   
 
At the same moment, Elladan made his deepest thrust, his balls slamming 
into his twin's buttocks. He felt his brother's hot seed spatter against him 
as he also came hard in a rolling wave of pleasure, both his and his 
brother's sensations combined.  In the midst of the storm, he felt a supreme 
ecstasy, a calmness of the soul.
 
"Uhhhhhh," Elladan groaned as he collapsed onto the younger twin's 
chest.  He lay still for a while, his face pressed to his brother's, still feeling 
the rapture of their orgasm.  Elrohir shook slightly.
 
Elladan pulled out and used the sheet to clean off their chests. 
 
Elrohir rolled over onto his face and lay still.  Suddenly, Elladan knew the 
aftermath was coming, and braced himself as a deep sorrow washed over 
him. He picked up his brother's left hand and kissed it.  "Are you all 
right?" he asked.  
 
Elrohir turned his head and his eyes were filled with tears. "I love you too 
much, that's all," he said. "It feels too good when we do that. For a 
moment, I feel totally at peace, complete." 
 
"Exactly the way I feel, meleth. It's why I crave our joining so much," said 
Elladan. "But now there's grief as well."
 
"Valar's curse. It's the guilt, as familiar to you as our love," Elrohir said in 
a whisper.  "As if we must somehow pay for our pleasure, sometime in the 
future. It scares me."  A tear rolled down his cheek.
 
"I have no answer for you," Elladan said. He gathered his twin to his chest 
and rocked him gently, pausing to kiss his eyelids and forehead. Elrohir 
sighed and soon Elladan heard him breathing softly in sleep.
 
I should have resisted. I should have, Elladan thought, as guilt seized him.  
I can't bear to cause him pain.  Amidst echoes of black despair, he got up, 
pulled the covers over his twin, blew out the lantern, and then slid next to 
him, throwing an arm over his chest and drawing him near, listening as 
their heartbeats became one.
 
*********************
*utulien - I am come in Quenya
*úthaes-nin - my temptation 
*gîl hűnen - star of my heart
***********************
 
Talagan opened the door to King Náin's quarters and found him seated in a 
large chair by a table, surrounded by a half dozen dwarves.  Cups and 
plates laden with the remains of a tremendous breakfast were piled high in 
front of them. Talagan sighed, remembering Thranduil's tirade to him in 
the king's chambers last night after they'd been forced to listen to all thirty 
verses of Náin's "Ode to Thranduil's Dwarf-Delved Halls."  At least 
Talagan could say of Náin that he was prolific and his verse rhymed. 
 
Náin sat solidly, his legs spread apart.  His dark sable beard was forked 
and braided with gold twine.  He wore a crimson jerkin embroidered with 
gold thread in a design representing a hammer and an anvil.  His features 
were heavy with a long, hooked nose and bright, hooded eyes. Talagan 
supposed that he was handsome, for a dwarf.   If only he could discover 
what Náin wanted here.
 
"You sent for me, King?" Talagan said.
 
"Yes, I wished for your advice, Thranduil's Seneschal."
 
Talagan bent his head slightly.  "I will do what I can."  
 
Náin's gaze flicked to the wall.  "By Durin's beard, what is that?" he cried, 
pointing.
 
Talagan looked quickly and saw a long fire lizard tail disappear into a 
crack.
 
"Nothing to worry about, Sire.  A pest.  I'll have someone remove it."
 
"None too soon.  Arg, it chills my blood!" Náin exclaimed. He looked at 
his counselors, then composed himself, stroking his mustache.  
 
"Seneschal," he began again in a deep rumble, "how do you think your 
master would react if I presented him with a gift?"  He gestured at one of 
his retinue, who brought over a small wooden box, which he opened. It 
contained a heavy gold ring that sparkled with faceted emeralds and 
diamonds.
 
Talagan let out an astonished, "Oh!"  then recovered quickly.  "I am sure 
he'd be, ah, delighted.  Could I learn the reason for the gift?"
 
"I wish to express my appreciation for the king's hospitality as well as my 
growing affection for his person," said Náin. "I hope I may find that 
affection returned."
 
Talagan noticed that one of Náin's counselors rolled his eyes upwards and 
shook his head. The corners of the seneschal's mouth twitched as he 
sought to control his own expression.
 
"I am sure King Thranduil will appreciate your gift.  However, he bestows 
his affection quite sparingly and only after long acquaintance." 
 
"The elven king does not strike me as the cautious type," said Náin.  
"Rather, he seems elemental, like a storm, given to mood swings.  Of 
course, it is quite charming."  He smiled.
 
"He can be very, uh, circumspect, when need arises," said Talagan.  He 
paused and then ventured, "I must own to you that he is very curious to 
learn the reason for your visit?" 
 
"I will make that clear when I think the time is ripe," answered Náin 
gruffly.  
 
"Yes, of course,"  Talagan said. He waved his hand at the breakfast debris. 
"I will send some of our household to clear this away.  May I remind you 
that the weapons competition is to be held this evening before dinner."
 
"I look forward to watching your finest elvish warriors go through their 
paces," Náin growled. "We'll see if the elves live up to their reputation."
 
"Very good." Talagan bowed and departed.
 
******************************
 
Náin had watched the seneschal's thin features carefully, noting the 
pinched expression when he brought out the gift.  As soon as the door 
shut, Náin began to laugh heartily.
 
"Surely, you are not courting this elven king?" asked one of his 
counselors, wringing his hands. 
 
"And what if I were, Grundin?" Nain's voice was a low rumble.  
 
"Sire, this is an offense against our people," said another deep-voiced 
dwarf.  "And I could not permit you to give him that ring of all rings!"  
 
"Nay, Norin, do not concern yourself.  It is not what it appears. The 
dwarves and the elves have too long distrusted each other."  Náin stroked 
his beard thoughtfully.  "I will see what this king is made of." 
 
***********************
 
"He's what!"  Thranduil said in shock.  He threw down his quill and stood 
up from the table littered with scrolls.
 
"I believe Náin has fallen in love with you," repeated Talagan, moving 
backwards a step.  He had to admit he could see how it might 
happen. Thranduil was fiercely beautiful and had a presence that drew the 
unwary, like moths to a flame.
 
"Yrggg!" The king made a face of such distaste that Talagan had to stifle a 
laugh. 
 
"He plans to give you a gift to demonstrate his affection.  He showed me a 
ring," Talagan continued.
 
"That's it, Talagan! The final blow!  We must get rid of him, 
immediately."
 
"My Lord, I beg you not to do anything hasty.  We still don't know what 
he wishes and he did say he would reveal it eventually."
 
"When might that be?  After he's consumed everything in the palace and 
had me to bed?  No!"  Thranduil began pacing. Suddenly he stopped mid-
stride, his cloak settling about him. " I have an idea, Talagan."
 
"Yes, Sire?" the seneschal asked warily.
 
"I'll tell you as we walk," Thranduil said, then he paused again and a 
strange look came over his face.  "Talagan, describe that ring he plans to 
offer me."
 
*****************************
 
Legolas sat on the steps of the large, outdoor amphitheater where the 
contest was to take place that night.  Resting his chin in his hand, he 
watched the twins practice with two-handed swords, the weapons they 
were to use this evening as determined by a draw. A slight breeze fluttered 
the sleeves of their tunics which were rolled up to the elbows.  The 
afternoon sun reflected light from the diamonds in their ears, casting tiny 
flickering rainbows on the white stone steps.  The twins moved in flowing 
slow motion, like a ritual dance, their movements precise and powerful, 
countering thrust with parry.   The amphitheater echoed with the sharp 
ring of metal.  
 
"Well, what do you think, Legolas?"
 
The prince turned and saw his older brother, Feredir, coming up the steps 
towards him.  He came and sat down next to Legolas.
 
"I think they present a challenge," said Legolas.
 
"How much of a challenge can they be?" asked Feredir scornfully.  "They 
come from Imladris, known for scholarship, not the arts of war, and they 
are partly human."
 
"Use your eyes, Feredir," said Legolas. "It seems they combine the 
strength of men with the dexterity of the elves.  And wherever they 
learned it, they certainly know how to wield their swords.  I'd say the 
challenge is formidable."
 
"I'm not worried, little brother," said Feredir.  "But it sounds as if you have 
been watching them carefully and that is useful.  What is our strategy?"
 
"You are stronger than I, you should fight Elladan.  Elrohir and I are the 
closer match in style," said Legolas.
 
"How can you even tell them apart?" snorted Feredir. 
 
"I have noted subtle differences, but here's an easy method: Elladan is the 
one with the earring in the right ear; Elrohir has his in the left."
 
"Just like a mirror, down to the last detail.  They give me the shivers," said 
Feredir. "As if they were unnatural somehow." 
 
"I find them quite . . . fascinating, and not at all unnatural," said Legolas 
softly.  "It's as if the gods created perfection, and then pleased with their 
work, decided to duplicate it."       
 
Feredir looked at him sharply.  "They are peredhil and Noldor, not of our 
race.  In addition, father threw them out once for their outrageous 
behavior.  You should be careful around them, little brother.  They are a 
corrupting influence."  He got up and stalked off.
 
With a heavy clang of iron against iron, Elrohir countered Elladan's 
overhead thrust, the younger twin sweeping his sword neatly over his head 
in perfect form, leg bent, arms arced to the side, sword parallel to the 
ground.  
 
Such beauty, Legolas sighed to himself. Let me be corrupted.
 
 
-tbc-




Chapter 6 - Combat
 
Talagan, the king's seneschal, ushered the twins into the library and closed 
the door behind them.  Shelf upon shelf of leather-bound volumes 
stretched two stories above their heads.  Books were piled on tables and on 
the velvet covered chairs and couches scattered throughout the room.  
Thranduil stood with his back to them, a book spread open in one hand 
and a glass of wine in the other.  He shut the book with a snap and turned.
 
Elladan was struck in that instant by how much he resembled his youngest 
son.  But Thranduil's face was hard, the look in his eyes ancient and world 
weary.  
 
"Would you like some wine?" Thranduil asked them.
 
"Yes, my Lord," Elladan and Elrohir both said. Thranduil's looked them 
over and smiled.  "Talagan," he beckoned.   
 
The seneschal went over to a large cabinet and poured two glasses which 
he gave to the twins.
 
"Sit," Thranduil said, gesturing with an open palm. The twins selected two 
chairs and sat in them while Thranduil sank onto a divan.  He laid an arm 
along the back and crossed one leg over his knee in a relaxed manner.  
"Did my armorer outfit you properly for the contest tonight?" he asked.
 
"Yes, quite well," said Elladan.
 
"We have no cause to complain," said Elrohir.
 
"Good. Do you know why I summoned you here?"
 
"I expect you wish to hear about our scouting expedition to the north," 
said Elladan.
 
"You said you had something worth hearing," said Thranduil.  "I would 
know it before we reveal it to Náin."
 
"Do you have a map of the region?" asked Elrohir.
 
"Yes, over here."  Thranduil rose and pulled a large scroll from under a 
pile on the table.  He unrolled it and placed a book on both ends.  
 
The twins studied it. "We took this route north out of Imladris along the 
west side of the Misty Mountains and went over the pass here near Mount 
Gundabad," said Elladan running his finger along the map.
 
"From there we went up the River Greylin into Ered Mithrin, scrambled as 
best we could through these passes here and here, and emerged in the 
Withered Heath," Elrohir continued. 
 
"Thence the journey went south to Esgaroth and you know the rest," 
Elladan finished.
 
"And. . .?" Thranduil queried.
 
"Orcs are gathering in huge numbers at Mount Gundabad and spreading 
out into rat holes all over Ered Mithrin," said Elrohir.
 
"We came upon a group of them making their way down the Forest 
River," said Elladan.  He smiled grimly.  "None of them will return to 
make a report to their masters."
 
"Good," Thranduil grunted.  "I have heard this news also.  Clearly the 
forces of darkness are moving again."
 
"There are worse tidings," said Elrohir. Thranduil raised an eyebrow in 
question.
 
"Rumors of dragons moving south," Elladan said.  "My brother and I have 
seen a cold drake near the source waters of River Greylin."
 
"Could you lead a party back there?" Thranduil asked.
 
"Not willingly," said Elladan.  "We were headed home to inform our 
father and don't wish to waste time backtracking. But yes, we know where 
to find its lair."
 
Thranduil paced back and forth, rubbing his chin with the heel of his 
hand.  "I would guess that Náin knows of this."  
 
"A good assumption," said Elrohir. "Náin's halls are near there.  We 
stopped and rested there for a bit.  We were treated well by his subjects, 
but Náin had already left to come here."  
 
"He wants our aid," said Thranduil.  "That's it. But why has he been so coy 
about asking?"
 
"Perhaps he wishes to test you?"  Elladan said.
 
"Well, he has certainly done that," Thranduil said in exasperation.  "I 
never had such obnoxious guests."  He paused a beat.  "Except perhaps 
you two."
 
Both Elrohir and Elladan laughed easily and Thranduil slowly smiled at 
them.
 
"But I want that to be in the past," Thranduil continued.  "We need to 
work together.  Do you know what the seer Rordan said of Náin's family?"
 
"No," said the twins.
 
"I only heard it recently from Náin's counselor, Thror.  The seer said a 
dragon would destroy Náin's house and kin.  We didn't take it seriously.  
Rordan has been wrong before and no dragons have been seen in the 
region, not in uncounted years."
 
"This is not good news considering that we have seen one," Elrohir said 
solemnly.
 
Thranduil contemplated the twins, his head cocked to one side. "Tell me, 
did you learn scholarship as well as the arts of war in your father's 
house?"  
 
"If you ask our tutor, Erestor, we barely passed our examinations," Elrohir 
laughed, "and my brother is the better scholar.  But yes, Father has been 
pleased with our skills."
 
Thranduil picked up the book he'd had in his hand when they first entered 
and held it out to Elladan.  It had dark leather binding and the title 
embossed in gold lettering written in a flowing elvish script. 
 
Elladan took it. "It is written in Quenya," he said, "by the scholar Morland 
and is titled, ‘Of Celebrimbor and the Forging of the Great Rings of 
Power.'  I know the work as we have a copy in my father's library. It 
speaks of the lesser rings forged by the elven smiths of Eregion and how 
Sauron gathered them to himself and gave them to dwarves and men, and 
so hoped to ensnare them.  But the dwarves did not bow to his will."
 
"That is correct," Thranduil said. "It is rumored that the first of these rings 
was given directly by Celebrimbor to Durin III and was never touched by 
Sauron, although he has dominion over it. Do you remember if there is a 
description of that ring in the ancient texts?" 
 
"There is," said Elrohir suddenly.  Both Thranduil and Elladan turned to 
look at him.  "Well, I had to write an essay on it for Erestor once," said the 
younger twin, grinning.  "It is made of heavy gold and stones of diamond 
and emerald.  Its name is written on the inside in the elvish script."
 
Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. "Most helpful," he said.  "I may need more 
from you before all is over and the aid of your father as well.  The time 
has come to forge alliances."
 
"We are at your service, Thranduil," Elladan said.
 
Thranduil stepped forward and took Elladan's chin in his hand, gently 
turning his face side to side. "I knew your mother," he said, "long ago.  I 
can see her fair face in yours, as well as that of your father. " Elladan 
wondered at the softness of his voice.  "I believe your coming here was 
not chance, but like the rolling of small pebbles that heralds an 
avalanche," Thranduil continued.  His tone changed to one of command. 
"Fight well tonight.  Náin must see that the elves are not weak."
 
"We will do our best," said Elladan.  Elrohir nodded. 
 
"And one more thing," Thranduil said. "Behave yourselves while in my 
house. Understood?"
 
"We'll do our best," said Elrohir, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.
 
**************************** 
   
A moist breeze blew in from the east whipping the pennants as several 
hundred elves filed into the amphitheater, laughing and singing with fair, 
silvery voices.  The sky was the deep purple of twilight and a few faint 
stars pricked between heavy clouds.   Several elves went about 
lighting large torches and hoisting them up to blaze on all sides.
 
Standing with his brother and Elrond's sons on the sidelines, Legolas 
noted that their armorer had outfitted the twins well.  They wore metal 
shoulder and breast plates over fine chain mail that reached to their knees, 
thick leather gloves that extended almost to the elbow and heavy 
boots. Metal greaves covered their shins. Their long braided black hair 
flowed from under their silver helms and down their backs.  
 
Legolas and his brother Feredir were similarly dressed, but their armor 
shone with gold inlay. Each carried a two-handed sword.   
 
The prince could see King Náin and King Thranduil come into the stands 
and climb the stairs to the covered dais on the top. They bowed stiffly to 
each other and then Thranduil nodded to his herald, who blew a horn.  As 
always before a contest, the horn call caused Legolas's heart to pound in 
anticipation.    
 
Feredir turned to the twins.  "You have a hard fight ahead of you. The 
Sons of Thranduil are no weaklings."
 
Elrohir clapped his hand on Feredir's shoulder. "Weakness comes in many 
forms," he laughed.  "Do your worst, Thranduilings and may the starlight 
shine upon your swords." 
 
Scowling, Feredir shrugged off the twin's arm. Legolas smiled.
 
The herald entered the ring and proclaimed a demonstration combat 
between the sons of Elrond and the sons of Thranduil.  Winners to be 
determined when one opponent clearly bested the other.  King Náin and 
his counselors would judge.
 
The four faced the dais and saluted the kings with a cut of their swords 
through the air.   They separated and squared off with each other. Two of 
Thranduil's guards, acting as marshals, came onto the field and drew their 
swords vertically between the two opponent's swords, then moved away 
quickly, as the contestants began circling one another.  
   
Legolas immediately lost track of what his brother was doing as all his 
concentration was bent on the warrior before him.  He had determined that 
it was Elrohir before the peredhel put on his helm. Now, for the life of 
him, he couldn't have told him from his twin.  They circled, feinting, and 
then suddenly he rushed at Elrohir, landing a heavy blow that the twin 
countered. 
 
"Quick to take the lead, eh, son of Thranduil?" Elrohir laughed.
 
Legolas moved sideways, but Elrohir was already there and swung at him. 
Legolas was forced to duck and swing his sword upwards, which Elrohir 
caught by the blade with one gloved hand and deflected. 
 
Legolas could hear the heavy clang, clang of his brother and Elladan's 
swords, and out of the corner of his eye, saw them moving.  Elladan 
seemed to be driving his brother back with a series of strong blows. He 
heard the crowd begin shouting encouragement to the oldest Mirkwood 
prince.
 
"Feredir, this way," Legolas called, "I'll protect your back."  His brother 
began moving in his direction.
 
Legolas reflected that hand to hand combat allowed one to take the 
measure of an opponent; to divine his character, especially when he was 
hard-pressed.  As Legolas had predicted, Elrohir was supple and quick, but 
seemed cautious.  He was studying Legolas, his legs splayed, balanced, 
waiting for him to make a wrong move, or so it seemed. 
 
Suddenly the twin brought his sword up from behind his back leg, swung 
hard overhead and landed a tremendous blow, which Legolas countered 
with a swing over his head, but staggered backwards in the process. The 
prince turned suddenly, twisting and came behind Elrohir, who managed 
to turn in time, but Legolas delivered a glancing blow to his shoulder 
plate.  Sparks shot up.
 
Elrohir called, "You'll have to do better than that, pen-vain."  
 
Legolas nodded, breathing hard. So, Elrohir was in reality tricky and 
unpredictable; seemingly cautious one moment, like a lion the next.  The 
prince crouched, holding the sword low.  Then he sliced a transverse cut 
diagonally across Elrohir's chest.  The peredhel stepped backward just in 
time and caught the blow against his sword and thrust it to the side.
 
Elrohir grinned and licked his lips. "So close, princeling. You wield your 
weapon well."
 
"I have been drilled long and hard in these arts," said Legolas, smiling 
broadly. 
 
"I could teach you even more. You would profit by the training."
 
"That remains to be seen, maethor-nîn*."  Legolas replied, taking two long 
diagonal steps backward.
 
"You favor your left side," Elrohir called, feinting toward the left. "I could 
show you how to cure that."  Immediately and unexpectedly, he 
sidestepped and came at Legolas from the right in a hard series of cuts, 
first one side, then the other, so that the Mirkwood prince was beaten back 
toward the side of the amphitheater. One of the peredhel's blows landed on 
Legolas's breast plate with a tremendous ring.
 
"You are a fox," Legolas said, pausing and wiping his glove across his 
sweaty brow.
 
"All is fair in love and war," said Elrohir grinning. 
 
"Elrohir," called Elladan, "stop dancing around with that wood elf and 
finish him off so we can go to dinner."
 
"I see you are doing no better, dear brother," called Elrohir.  
 
"That's about to change," said Elladan lightly.
 
Legolas heard a series of clanging blows.  The crowd began roaring, 
including scattered boos and hisses. Legolas turned his head in time to see 
Elladan drive Feredir to the far side of the ring and then deliver a blow 
that beat Feredir to his knees. Elladan swung his sword upward, stopping 
inches from Feredir's neck.
 
Feredir glared at him. Then he slowly raised his hand. "I  give," he called.
 
There came a deafening clap of thunder and a large drop of rain splashed 
on the side of Legolas's face. He felt the swish of a sword slicing by his 
ear.  He spun and met the next blow, grabbing the tip of his sword and 
bracing it crosswise of Elrohir's. As Elrohir moved steadily forward, 
Legolas's sword was forced upwards over his head.  They strained against 
each other until their faces were inches apart and Legolas looked into 
those dark-rimmed, mischievous eyes.  The rain was falling harder now, 
hitting the ground about them and dripping off their visors. 
 
"I want you," Elrohir whispered, his lips nearly touching the prince's. 
"Surrender to me.  You won't be sorry."
 
Caught off guard, Legolas felt a ripple of desire and lost his concentration 
for a moment. Elrohir gave a tremendous push and Legolas staggered 
backwards. He fell and rolled as his opponent's sword smashed into the 
ground where his chest had been moments before.  
 
The prince swung a leg out in a wide arc and caught Elrohir behind his 
knee, bringing him crashing to the ground.  Legolas rolled over and 
pounced on the twin, flinging his full weight on the peredhel's chest.  
Elrohir's breath was forced out of his lungs and he gasped loudly. Legolas 
pushed his hands down on the twin's upper arms, pinning them to the 
ground, and feeling the battle rush of triumph.  
 
"Now you must surrender to me," the prince said with a smirk. 
 
"That suits me as well, ernil-bain*," Elrohir said. 
 
Legolas felt the peredhel flex his hips under him, ever so slightly. Ah 
gods, the prince thought as a warm glow shot through him.  Legolas knew 
he should get up, that it was unseemly to sit one more moment on his 
opponent; he felt he was caught in a spell.
 
Then Elrohir cried in a loud voice, "I give, to Thranduil's youngest son."
 
Legolas got up, retrieved his sword, and swept it high over his head in 
victory as the crowd cheered. Elrohir rose smoothly and bowed to him.  
Feredir and Elladan came and stood next to them.  The rain was coming 
down in sheets now and the elves were scattering.
    
"I declare one victory for Mirkwood and one for Imladris," Náin cried.  "It 
is a draw!"  He turned to Thranduil.  "They all fought very well. Strength, 
speed, and strategy," he said.  "I am impressed."
 
Thranduil said, "Yes, Legolas acquitted himself well; Feredir usually 
performs better, and I have to admit, even the peredhil's skill surprised me. 
But I pray you, Náin, let us discuss this indoors where it is drier."  
 
They stood with the rest of their courtiers and fled for the shelter of 
Thranduil's halls.
 
*************************
*maethor-nîn - my warrior 
*ernil-bain - beautiful prince
 
*********************** 
-tbc-



Swords and Seduction: Mirkwood Alliances 
by elfscribe, elfscribe5@yahoo.com 
For disclaimers and all that jazz, see chapter 1
 
****************************************
Chapter 7 - Thranduil's Surprise
 
The four contestants ran across the wooden bridge past the great gates and 
paused in the towering entryway of Thranduil's palace.  Other elves 
scampered by them as they watched the rain pour down like arrows upon a 
battlefield.  Water dripped off their gear, making puddles on the cave 
floor. 
 
"You fought well, Feredir," Elladan said. "I hope you won't hold my 
victory against me.  It could easily have gone the other way."
 
"Yes, I'm sure it could have, Peredhel," Feredir replied.  "Perhaps we'll 
need a rematch to see if that is so.  You will excuse me, I must get out of 
this wet armor."  He bowed stiffly and strode down the hall, almost 
running into another elf.
 
"That wasn't very friendly," grinned Elrohir as he removed his helm and 
shook his hair out of his eyes.
 
"I apologize for my brother," said Legolas.  "He doesn't lose gracefully.  
Never has." 
 
Elrohir flexed a shoulder. "I expect I'll feel our contest tomorrow.  You got 
in a few good blows, Legolas."  
 
"For a while, it looked as if you had the advantage of me," said the prince.  
 
"I would have but for that one lucky kick of yours," Elrohir smiled. "Next 
time I'll have you for sure."  Elrohir's eyes were crinkled in amusement 
and Legolas detected another meaning in his words.  
 
The prince laughed and clapped his hand on Elrohir's shoulder.  "Maybe 
there will be an opportunity for me to trounce you again."
 
"Not likely, ernil-bain," Elrohir said. "I have the measure of you now."
 
"Well, I'm soaked through," said Elladan, as he peeled off wet gloves. "I 
wouldn't mind a hot bath before dinner tonight." 
 
Legolas nodded, then beckoned to one of the elves hurrying by who 
stopped and bowed.  "Vande will take care of it," he said. "I look forward 
to seeing you at dinner."
 
"Likewise," said Elrohir. 
 
A deep bow from both.  Elrohir raised his head and smiled with a flash of 
white teeth, and then they were disappearing down the hall.
 
Legolas watched them walk away moving with the effortless glide of a 
pair of panthers.  A thrill shivered through the prince as he remembered 
the forceful look in Elrohir's eye, the throaty husk of his voice as he 
whispered, "I want you."   
 
**************************
 
Thranduil stood by one of the pillars looking over the preparations for the 
banquet.  He motioned Talagan to his side as soon as the seneschal 
appeared.  "Have you brought the wine?" he asked.
 
"Yes," said Talagan.  "Our most potent variety, the Dorwinion vintage."
 
"Good," said Thranduil.  "That will surely get this stubborn dwarf to start 
talking. And the surprise, that's prepared as well?"  
 
Talagan looked disgusted.  "Yes, as you wished, Sire, although it was an 
extremely unpleasant task."
 
"Good. I may actually enjoy our dinner tonight," Thranduil said with an 
enigmatic smile. 
 
****************************
 
Legolas was deeply suspicious of his father. 
 
The king was sitting next to Náin and for the first time since the dwarf had 
arrived, Thranduil was laughing and joking with him, frequently 
beckoning a servant to keep his guests' glasses full. The elven king's 
cheeks were flushed and his voice became loud.  
 
Oh gods, thought Legolas, he's getting drunk. This never bodes well.
 
It was a relatively small group of about two dozen invited guests this 
evening. The dwarf king sat near his counselors, Norin and Grundin, and a 
dozen other dwarves.  Legolas noticed that they seemed unusually quiet 
and somewhat tense.
 
Legolas sat toward the end of the table between Elladan and Elrohir who 
were relaxed and beaming. They were marvelous company, entertaining 
him with stories of their father's house and their many travels.  The prince 
was beginning to feel as if he'd known them all his life. 
 
"I should like to go to some of these places you talk of," Legolas said.
 
"Why shouldn't you?" Elladan asked.
 
Legolas motioned them close and spoke softly. "My father has not 
permitted me to travel far from Mirkwood." He sighed.  "Sometimes I 
think I should just run off, but I know he'd send his guards after me.  I 
chafe at this confinement."
 
"We could speak to him.  Maybe he'd let you come back to Imladris with 
us," said Elrohir.
 
"I sincerely doubt it." Legolas shook his head and then teased, "Especially 
after your affair with my cousin.  He'd just think you were trying to bed 
me."
 
"He wouldn't be wrong," Elrohir said calmly.     
 
Legolas could feel his face flush.  He turned to look at Elladan and found 
the peredhel regarding him with a sly smile.  The prince took another sip 
of wine. He knew he was falling hopelessly under the twins' spell and he 
didn't know quite what to do about it.  So far, they had not touched him 
other than in combat.  They seemed to be waiting for him to make a 
move.  He had never felt more naive and unsure of himself. 
 
He realized that his current thoughts about the twins were less than loyal.  
But Táro was gone, perhaps for good, and Elrohir sat next to him, warm 
and exciting, his thigh brushing Legolas's under the table.  Legolas felt on 
fire with his need to touch him and be touched by him. 
 
He imagined himself going to their room after dinner, leaning over and 
claiming Elrohir's lips, kissing him hard and deep, hearing him pant with 
need, and then feeling Elladan come up behind him, sliding his hands over 
Legolas's hips and pulling him close . . . .
 
The prince heard a loud guffaw from Náin and looked up to see the dwarf 
king pounding Thranduil on the back.  A scowl flickered briefly over 
Thranduil's face, then he turned and beamed a radiant smile at the dwarf.  
 
"So Náin, have you been sufficiently impressed by elven battle skills?" 
Thranduil asked grandly.  "I  am curious as to why you find it so 
fascinating.  Are the dwarves planning to invade Mirkwood?"
 
"My dear suspicious, and may I say, charming King, of course we have no 
such thought." Náin sat back in his chair and held up his glass for more 
wine.  "But I will shortly tell you what we have in mind."  He leaned 
closer to Thranduil.  "The world darkens and becomes more dangerous.  
We should be allies against the coming storm."
 
"Exactly my thoughts, my dear dwarf.  The dwarves and elves have allied 
in the past," said the elven king.
 
"But always uneasily, Thranduil," said Náin, "and for good reasons."
 
Distantly through the rock wall, they felt the rumbling of thunder. "The 
storm hasn't abated," Thranduil said and shook his head.  "Very bad.  
Talagan, have you taken precautions?"
 
"Yes Sire," the seneschal nodded, his face looking strained.
 
"Against what, good King?" asked Náin.  "Surely your dwelling is well 
protected against the weather."
 
"Yes, but they like a good storm.  It brings them out."
 
"Brings what out?" asked Norin, stroking his russet beard. 
 
"The emlyg nibin, the fire lizards."
 
"You mean those nasty things I saw earlier?" Náin shuddered.  
 
"Yes, usually they hide away in the depths of the caverns, but on nights 
like this, they swarm."  Thranduil's eyes opened wide and he made 
fluttering motions in the air with his fingers.  "Once they swarm, they 
come out every night for a week until they've mated.  And the stench they 
make, like rotten eggs, only ten times worse."  The king wrinkled his nose.
 
"I have never heard of such a thing," said Grundin, "and I've been in many 
a cave."
 
"What is Father up to?" Legolas whispered to Elladan. "I've never heard of 
the fire lizards swarming either."
 
"Let us hope it doesn't happen then," said Náin. "I can't abide them. They 
remind me of, of tiny dragons."  He lowered his voice. "That's one of the 
things I've come to talk to you about.  But it can keep for a bit."  
 
The dwarf king stood, fingering his mustache as he spoke.  "I'd like to 
propose a toast to our good friends and gracious hosts, the Mirkwood 
Elves, and to their charming and beauteous king, Thranduil.  In fact, I 
have come from our halls in the Grey Mountains to propose an alliance of 
a rather unusual sort between our kingdoms."  Náin reached into his vest 
pocket and pulled out a small velvet bag. 
 
Legolas was carefully watching everyone at the head of the table.  He 
noted the looks of apprehension on the other dwarves' faces and his 
father's wary but calculating expression. Thranduil turned his head and 
stared at Talagan, who had moved off to the side door and stood with his 
hand on the handle.  The king mouthed the word, 'Now!'  
 
Now what? Legolas thought as Talagan quietly opened the door and 
disappeared. 
 
King Náin shook a large jewel-encrusted gold ring into the flat of his hand 
and held it out to Thranduil. "My dearest King Thranduil, do you know 
what this ring is and what it represents?"
 
"I have my suspicions, Náin, but I want you to tell me," Thranduil 
growled.
 
"This is the very ring given by the great elven wright, Celebrimbor, to my 
ancestor, Durin III.  It is the only one remaining of the seven great rings of 
the dwarves.  I would return it to the elves to seal our alliance, both of our 
kingdoms and of our persons. You know the worth of this gift, Thranduil?  
This ring brings wealth to whoever possesses it. You could have riches 
beyond your wildest dreams."
 
Thranduil stood and his eyes flashed fire.  He slammed his fist down on 
the table.  "Náin, how dare you insult me and my people in this manner!  
That ring is bound up with Sauron, the deceiver.  Would you destroy me 
and my kingdom? I reject your offer and I bid you go at once before I slice 
you open like a river trout!"
 
The elven king drew a dagger from the sheath at his side and thrust it at 
the dwarf, stopping short of Náin's belly.
 
All the dwarves and elves at the table leapt out of their chairs, grabbed 
knives, glasses and anything that could be used as weapons and stood 
facing each other in wrath.   Legolas and the twins pulled their knives. 
 
Náin remained seated looking over the bristling crowd. He began to laugh 
heartily. "That, my friend, was the right answer!" he cried.
 
At that moment, Legolas noticed movement by the side door.  A small fire 
lizard crawled out, flexing leathery wings. It flicked out a tongue.  Then 
another lizard appeared.  
 
Legolas grabbed Elrohir by the sleeve.  "Look," he said, pointing. 
 
Suddenly, as if drawn by Thranduil's warning, a dozen fire lizards came 
flying into the room.  Then there were a dozen more; then hundreds: 
shrieking, swooping, and belching a terrible, sulfurous fume. 
 
Chaos reigned as dwarves and elves batted at the nasty beasts, ducked, 
tripped over chairs, hurled dishes, and finally scrambled in a helter-skelter 
mass from the great hall.   
   
"Gods, what a stench," Elladan yelled, holding his nose as he and his 
brother and Legolas ran from the hall. They attempted to shut the door 
against the onslaught but already some of the little monsters had escaped.  
 
"This way," called Legolas. They ran down the twisting corridors and 
clattered down a steep stairway. Legolas missed the last two steps and 
staggered into the wall, putting his hands out to stop his forward motion.  
Elladan and Elrohir ploughed into him and they collapsed in a heap at the 
base of the stairs. 
 
Breathing hard, Legolas looked back up the steps and then at the twins, 
sprawled on either side of him.  A loud guffaw burst from Elrohir, 
immediately joined by his twin. Legolas's face split in a grin and he began 
chuckling as well. 
 
"Oh gods, did you see the look on Náin's face when all those lizards 
started swooping in on us," howled Elrohir.  
 
"I was too busy swatting at the cursed things," laughed Elladan. "Valar, 
what a stench!"
 
"I never knew anything could smell that wicked!" cried Elrohir.
 
"And I thought Náin meant to propose to my father. Oh, that was too 
good," Legolas laughed, holding his sides.   
      
"I wish he had. I wanted to see Thranduil turn green." Elrohir was choking 
with mirth.
 
"Where did those miserable creatures come from?" asked Elladan, getting 
control of himself.  "It just seems a real coincidence that your father talked 
about swarming fire lizards and then they appeared."
 
"Yes, doesn't it?" said Legolas. "Curse of Mandos, he engineered the 
whole thing.  I saw Talagan go out the side door and that's where the little 
beasts came in.  I think perhaps I should find our seneschal and have a 
chat to get to the bottom of all this."
 
"Oh, I think that can wait," said Elladan. "They could be distracted with 
this for a long time."
 
"What do you mean?" Legolas asked.
 
Still chuckling a little, Elrohir looked into Legolas's eyes. "We mean, 
ernil-bain, that we have better things to do this night."  He drew a finger 
along the prince's cheekbone and across his lips. 
 
The path along Legolas's face tingled where the peredhel had brushed and 
the prince became reacquainted with his own deep hunger.  At last the 
moment had come.  Legolas leaned forward and gently touched his lips to 
the twin's.
 
Elrohir kissed him briefly, then backed away and gave Legolas 
a breathtaking smile.  The younger twin slid his arms about the prince and 
kissed him again. With supple lips, he began slowly, then moved with an 
unerring rhythm into a frantic, devouring kiss, turning his head and 
assaulting the prince's mouth for many long minutes. 
 
Legolas felt his heart race and his breath quicken. "Valar's wisdom," he 
groaned.   "Are you as good at, uh, the rest of it, as you are at kissing?"  
 
"Need you ask?" Elladan said from behind him. "My brother and I have 
studied many things, including the arts of love, and we enjoy sharing that 
knowledge."  He laughed lightly.
 
"Then I am fortunate to be lying between such skilled artisans," Legolas 
grinned as he turned and pulled Elladan to him. Elladan kissed him hard, 
until Legolas saw sparks, then the peredhel broke away precipitously, and 
looked up the stairs.
 
"This is no place for such activity," he said and pushed himself upright.  
 
"You are right, brother." Elrohir got up and held a hand out to the prince.  
"Come, pen-vain.*  In our chambers delight awaits us."
 
*************************** 
 
Elrohir glided down the hall, taking care his footfalls made no sound, 
following Elladan and Legolas swiftly past the areas lit by guttering 
torches to the shadows beyond.  Legolas came to a corner and raised a 
hand in warning while he peered around it.  Elrohir and Elladan cautiously 
joined him. Elrohir noticed a few lizards scuttle past and then saw Talagan 
walking swiftly after them, carrying a net, and muttering to himself.    
Elrohir turned and grinned at the other two as they withdrew into the dark. 
 
"Anyone there?" called Talagan, but the elves had moved silently up a 
flight of stairs.
 
"Legolas," Elladan whispered, "I don't recognize this part of the palace."
 
"I'm taking you the long way around," Legolas replied.  "No one will 
follow us."
 
"Not too long, I hope, pen-vain," Elrohir said.  He cast his eye over the 
prince's luscious round buttocks moving under his silk tunic and reached 
out to run his hand over them, delighting in their firmness. "I may have to 
take you right here in the hall," the younger twin purred.
 
"That has certain attractions," Legolas laughed. 
 
Elrohir pushed the prince against the wall and kissed him again.  Ah, the 
prince's mouth was like wine. He longed to taste other parts of him, to 
make him writhe and cry.  Elrohir brought his knee up, roughly parting 
Legolas's legs and using his thigh to rock back and forth against the 
prince's genitals, feeling the prince's shaft harden. Gods, how he wanted to 
possess the young elf.  Legolas gasped against his mouth, his hands 
coming around and grasping Elrohir's rear.  That felt good too. 
 
"Elro!" said Elladan sharply, grabbing him by his collar and hauling him 
off the other elf. "My apologies, Prince," Elladan bowed slightly, holding 
his aroused brother at arm's length. "Sometimes my twin is overly 
impetuous."  
 
Legolas licked his lips.  "Umm. I like that about him." 
 
"The operative word here is *haste*, Legolas," Elrohir said, shaking loose 
from Elladan's grasp.  "The faster we get to our room, the sooner you'll 
feel my mouth on you." He thrust his tongue over his upper lip.   
   
Legolas swallowed hard. "This way," he said.  
 
-tbc-
 
********************
ernil-bain - beautiful prince
pen-vain - beautiful one



Swords and Seduction: Mirkwood Alliances 
by elfscribe, elfscribe5@yahoo.com 
For disclaimers and all that jazz, see chapter 1 
*****************************************
Chapter  8 - Desire 
  
After what seemed like an eternity of sneaking around and doubling back 
whenever they heard others approach, Legolas brought the twins to their 
door. They slipped swiftly inside.  Elrohir threw the bolt.  They paused 
and looked at each other, suddenly awkward.  
  
Elrohir turned to his twin, who stood watching the prince with a smile on 
his handsome face. Elrohir felt a rush of love for him: his charming, 
intellectual brother, who loved him beyond reason.  Elrohir could feel his 
presence at all times like one feels the sun's warm kiss.  He craved it, 
craved to bring it closer, to draw that radiance inside him and then reflect 
it back. Those moments when they joined mind and body eased the ache in 
his soul, warmed the darkness within.   
  
But then, he hated the aftermath when they separated again and he felt that 
rush of loneliness and guilt. So cold and dreadful.     
  
Legolas, this gorgeous elf, was the key to feeling that connection without 
the guilt. 
 
In the golden light of the hanging lamp, the prince's cheeks blushed with 
ruddy color, his jewel-blue eyes sparkled with excitement.  It made him 
even more beautiful, if that were possible.  Elrohir's need for him was 
urgent, but now that they were here, he planned to draw the encounter out 
slowly. The peredhel had a sensual nature and loved his pleasure, bot