“To Love and Hate, to Hate and Love” By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst, Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! I owe you girls! “Milord, a messenger from Imladris has arrived,” the servant announced when Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, looked up. “Who is it?” the King asked, irritated. The relations between Mirkwood and Imladris were more than frosty and messengers were sent only if it could not be avoided at all. Ever since the Last Alliance Thranduil had been convinced that his father had died because of Gil-galad. The fact that Elrond was his herald had been more than enough to condemn the Peredhel also. The Peredhel…. Thranduil despised the half-elves of Imladris. His own bloodline was immaculate by Elvish standards, and he was proud about that. A soft cough from his servant brought Thranduil back from his musings. “Lord Glorfindel is waiting outside, Milord.” Glorfindel was waiting impatiently. Usually delivering messages was not his duty, but since the relationship between Mirkwood and Imladris was difficult, to say the least, it had been placed upon him to deal with this. For some reason it seemed that Thranduil did not loathe Glorfindel as much as the other elves of Imladris. Well, after all he was Glorfindel the Balrog slayer, victorious soldier in battles of all ages. Even if Thranduil hated the Noldor and blamed them for his father’s death, he had to acknowledge that Glorfindel was an impressive warrior. Glorfindel paced up and down the corridor impatiently until a servant finally signalled for him to enter the great hall. Thranduil was sitting on his throne, his appearance as radiant as ever. His was wearing a formal robe in the green and brown colours of his realm, sporting spectacular golden embroidery on the sleeves and down the front of his robe. His blond hair, braided with the intricate knots of the royal house of Mirkwood, was flowing over his shoulders and down his back like a river of gold. Glorfindel bowed low before addressing the King. “Milord, Lord Elrond of Imladris sends his greetings.” “Lord Glorfindel, it has been long since your last visit to the Mirkwood. What brings you here this time?” Thranduil asked while looking at the messenger closely. Glorfindel wore the grey and green uniform of the soldiers of Imladris. Still, on him the rather plain clothes looked impressive, his sharp deep blue eyes sparkling, beautiful golden hair shining. He was wearing it lose, like most of the times. Thranduil was aware that Glorfindel was one of the few elves whose beauty could outshine him. The seneschal of Imladris was rather attractive. Even he had to admit that… “I bring the latest reports concerning Orc activities. The Orc attacks have reached a concerning number. Lord Elrond suggests a meeting in the near future to discuss how the two realms could be protected better, and how we could assist each other in doing so.” Thranduil frowned slightly. How dare the Peredhel assume that the King of Mirkwood could not keep his lands safe? Still, he was a King and had to keep up the diplomatic tone of this conversation, no matter how annoyed he was. Thranduil had to admit that the Orc activities had increased in Mirkwood as well. However, he would not admit to Elrond that help would be welcome. On the other hand, additional information could do no harm. “I appreciate the information concerning the Orc activities. It is kind of Elrond to offer assistance, but we are well capable of keeping our borders safe as it is.” Glorfindel had expected no other answer. “Do you wish to send back an answer to Lord Elrond, Milord?” Thranduil nodded. “I will write the answer tonight so that you can take the letter with you when you are leaving tomorrow. Please be our guest for the night, Lord Glorfindel.” Even though Mirkwood was by no means his favourite place to stay, Glorfindel accepted the offer of a bed and a good meal. He had spent so much time in the woods recently that he was glad to be sleeping in a bed for once. -------------------------------------------------------- In the morning he was woken up by a knock at his door. It was one of the King’s advisors handing him Thranduil’s letter for Elrond. “The King is in an important meeting and will not be able to meet you before your departure,” Glorfindel was told. Even though this was rude, Glorfindel did not care. The less he had to deal with the King, the better. Besides, the blond Elven lord had not expected anything else from Thranduil. The King would insult anyone connected to Imladris on any possible occasion. Elrond and his advisors had been aware that it would be difficult to convince Thranduil to agree to a closer cooperation. However, Elrond was convinced that the increasing power of the evil could only be fought back by united forces, and this included Thranduil. The Lord of Imladris still hoped that the King of Mirkwood would put his grudge against Imladris aside, if this was what it would take to keep his lands safe. Glorfindel packed his things, went to the hall for breakfast and left soon after that for Lothlorien. ------------------------------------------------ Several months later Glorfindel was on his way back to Imladris. The stay in 'Lorien had been uneventful but pleasant. The Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood had done their best to make Glorfindel feel at home. The brief visit in Rohan afterwards was enjoyable too. Glorfindel loved the horses of the Rohirrim. Only few in Middle Earth bred horses like they did in the Riddermark. However, Glorfindel had to try hard not to chuckle every time he had noticed the looks of admiration Asfaloth got from the Horse Lords. Asfaloth was one of the finest Elven horses and Glorfindel was extremely proud about him. Even in Rohan one would only find few horses like this, he thought satisfied. He had truly enjoyed the time in 'Lorien and Rohan. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to get back to the Last Homely House and to a certain chief counsellor, to be more precise. It had taken both Glorfindel and Erestor ages to admit their feelings for each other, which meant they were now all the more determined to make the most out of their time together. While riding along, Glorfindel let his thoughts wander, thinking of the hot bath he was longing for and a long gentle massage from Erestor afterwards. Oh, he missed his lover so much. He was in deep thought about his first night back with Erestor, and what he would do with his lover the next time they made love, when Asfaloth brought him back to reality quickly. The horse had stopped, alerting the seneschal of Imladris to some kind of danger ahead. Glorfindel reached for his bow, riding further ahead cautiously. After a few steps he could see what had alerted Asfaloth. A figured was huddled against a tree, obviously asleep. Glorfindel dismounted and walked closer. He could see that the clothes of the figure were torn and covered with dirt. Was there also blood on the clothes? Glorfindel was not sure. When he stood in front of the figure, it was obvious that it was dried blood… and quite a lot of it. The long legs of the figure on the forest floor were covered with blood and dirt. The long blond hair was a dirty, tangled mess. Glorfindel could see blood in the blond mane also. Kneeling down to examine if the figure in front of him was still alive, he heard a moan. It was so low that even for Elven ears it was barely audible. Touching the dirty blond hair gently, Glorfindel tried to comfort the injured one. When stroking back some of the stray hair, he touched the ear - only to stare at a pointed tip. This one was an Elf! Gently Glorfindel turned the injured Elf over. He found severe injuries all over the Elf’s body. Careful not to hurt the brutally abused Elf any further, Glorfindel started examining the wounds. He cringed when he saw the extent of the injuries. There were cuts and bruises all over. Many of the wounds were covered in dried blood, but not all of them had stopped bleeding. He must have lost a tremendous amount of blood! Glorfindel looked at the face. Dirt clung to it so that it was impossible to determine who this Elf was. One eye was swollen shut and there were bruises everywhere. However, looking into the other eye Glorfindel got the strong feeling that this Elf was no stranger to him. Over the years, Glorfindel had learned the basics of tending to the injured from Elrond, but these injuries were way beyond his skills. Besides, he only had a small amount of bandages and healing herbs. This would never be enough to take care of such injuries. “I must get him to Elrond. This is his only chance.” Glorfindel was determined not to let this Elf die. He whistled for Asfaloth and put the injured stranger in front of him on the horse. Holding the Elf tightly against his chest, he rode as fast as he could without hurting the injured elf further. His only thought was to get to Imladris as quick as possible. This Elf was not to die! The few times he rested, he tried to get the elf to drink some water, but since he remained unconscious for the whole journey this proved nearly impossible. No more than an occasional low moan escaped the lips of the injured stranger. Eventually he managed to pour some water down the stranger’s throat. Glorfindel was getting tired, but he was determined to get back to Imladris. A sigh of relief left his lips when he finally crossed the borders of Imladris. A few more hours and everything would be fine, he told himself. “To love and hate, to hate and love” Part 2/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! Elrond was sitting in his study, discussing the latest observations of the border guards with Erestor, his chief advisor. This proved to be difficult, since Erestor seemed to be rather distracted today. “You miss him, don’t you?” Elrond asked, smiling at his friend. He had welcomed the relationship between his advisor and his seneschal. Both had been alone for too many centuries, and seeing his two closest friends in love like young Elflings made him happy. “He has been gone for some months now,” Erestor sighed, “And he won’t be back for some time,” he added, sadly. He had become so accustomed to sharing his bed with Glorfindel that spending the nights without his lover seemed to break his heart. But there was nothing he could do about it right now. He could only be patient. With a sigh, Erestor returned his attention on the reports of the border guards, when a knock at the door interrupted the two Elven lords. “Lord Glorfindel is back,” a pretty maiden informed the two raven-haired Elves. Erestor jumped up immediately, looking at Elrond pleadingly. “Would you please excuse me?” Elrond just laughed and dismissed his counsellor with a casual gesture. Instantly, Erestor hurried out of the study and down the corridors to greet his lover. Elrond followed a bit more slowly. He too was glad that Glorfindel was back. In these days travelling was rather dangerous. One never knew where Orcs would attack next. Knowing his seneschal had returned safely was a great relief for Elrond. However, when he entered the courtyard, his eyes went wide in shock. Glorfindel was holding an obviously injured person in front of him. Elladan and Elrohir were already helping the blond to lift the motionless form off Asfaloth, before Glorfindel dismounted too. “I found him in the woods about four days ago. He is severely injured. Elrond, he needs your help,” Glorfindel addressed the Lord of Imladris, breathlessly. Even without any closer examination it was obvious that this person was severely injured and needed help. “Take him to the healing house,” the Lord of Imladris ordered his sons, who were holding the motionless form. The twins nodded once and hurried to the healing house. While following his sons, Elrond tried to get more information from Glorfindel. “I don’t know much. I found him huddled against a tree, unconscious and covered in blood and dirt.” Glorfindel shook his head. “This is all I know. I searched the immediate area but there was no one around. No tracks, nothing. I only know for sure that he is an Elf.” Elrond arched an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing. -------------------------------------------- Elladan and Elrohir had already placed the injured Elf on a bed in the healing house. “We must undress him, but be careful. We do not want to add to his pain,” Elrond instructed his sons. Both of them obliged immediately, carefully removing the ragged clothing. With his clothes gone, the full state of the Elf’s injuries became obvious. The twins stared in shock and Elrond took a deep breath. The stranger’s body was covered with injuries and bruises. Some of them seemed to be older and had healed, albeit badly, whilst others seemed rather new. This Elf must have been tortured for quite some time. “By Elbereth, what has happened to him and who would treat an Elf like that?” Glorfindel hissed, clenching his fists in anger. Elrond started tending to the injured body gently, dealing with one wound after another. It took him hours to clean them all, attaching healing herbs and binding the injuries. There were so many cuts, bruises, marks from whips and canes, and even broken bones. It seemed there was nothing this Elf had not endured. After a while Elrond sent everyone but Elladan away. There was no need to keep them all here. Elladan was a skilled healer, just like his father. This was all the assistance Elrond needed. Father and son worked in silence, tending to the numerous injuries. “Do you think he will survive?” Elladan asked, worried. Elrond looked at his patient before answering, his grey eyes full of sadness. “He must be strong, otherwise he would have not survived so long. But I do not know if he has enough strength to go through all of this …… That I don’t know.” Both of them worked from head to toe on their patient, dealing with one injury after another. When they came to his backside Elladan stopped, noticing plenty of dried blood and bruises. He took a deep breath. “Do you think they forced him?” Elrond sighed, inspecting the injuries closer. “It seems so, and this must have gone on for quite some time judging from these injuries. If this is the case it is surprising that he is still alive. Most Elves fade after being forced.” Elladan’s eyes filled with tears of anger. “Who would do this to another being?” he asked, his voice full of anger. “I don’t know, my son.” Elrond sighed and shook his head. By the time father and son had finished tending to the injuries it was dark outside. “Someone should stay with him for the night,” Elladan said. Elrond nodded in agreement. “I will stay here. You go and get some rest, Elladan.” The younger Elf wanted to argue, but the look in his father’s eyes made clear that that would not help. Elrond pulled a chair close to the bed, watching the unconscious Elf closely. The face was swollen badly, injuries all over, but still, it reminded Elrond of someone. But then, could this really be? He shook his head. This was folly. There was no way… ------------------------------------------------ A hand on his shoulder made Elrond awaken. It was Glorfindel, carrying a tray of food. “You have not eaten since last night, my friend.” He placed the tray on the bedside table and handed Elrond some herbal tea. “This will give you strength.” Elrond took the hot drink gratefully, drinking slowly while his eyes were fixed on his patient. “He looks familiar, Glorfindel.” The blond arched an eyebrow in surprise. “I thought the same thing when I found him.” Elrond sighed. “If I did not know better, I would say he reminds me of Thranduil of Mirkwood - but what would the King be doing in the middle of the woods, and why would he be injured like this?” Glorfindel nodded. “If something had happened to their King, every soldier of Mirkwood would be out there searching for their Lord, but so far no news like this has reached us. I am sure that it is just a resemblance, no more.” Elrond nodded. Sure, Glorfindel was right, but why were his instincts telling him something different? Well, they would find out once the Elf woke up. But would he ever wake up again? Walking to the door, Elrond let out a frustrated sigh. “To love and hate, to hate and love”, Part 3/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana– thank you so much! It was dark when he woke up and he felt nothing but pain. His lungs were desperate for air, but when he took a breath, it was as if his chest was hit by dozens of spears. His head was spinning and the headache. When he tried to sit up, nothing happened. His body just refused to move. Then he tried to open his eyes further, getting accustomed to the light. His left eye was throbbing from pain, but at least he could open his right eye. The room was quite small and scarcely furnished. There were only the bed he was lying in, a small table, two chairs. But where was he? And how had he gotten here? He managed to turn his head. On the other side of the bed a blond elf was sleeping in a chair. The face seemed familiar, but he could not place it. He was sure that they had met before…. in…. in ….. He could not name the location. Come to think of it, he could not remember anything. Not even his name. But before he could think more about this, his eyes became vacant. He was too exhausted to stay awake any longer. -------------------------------------------- When he woke the next time the sun was shining on his face. He could still not move without feeling tremendous pain, but his headache had lessened. Turning his head, he could see that now someone else was sitting at his bedside. This one was younger and had dark hair. He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his chest. “Wh…e…re ….a…m ….I?” His voice was barely audible and hoarse, but the raven-haired Elf looked up from his book immediately. A small smile curled his the stranger’s lips. “You have finally woken up. This is a relief. We were all quite worried about you.” He looked up, confused and opened his mouth, but no words came out. “W… here… am… I?” he finally managed to whisper. The raven-haired Elf smiled. “You are in Rivendell, my friend. Lord Glorfindel found you in the woods with serious injuries. He brought you here and you have been asleep for five days.” Five days… Injuries... He had no idea what had happened. “W…ho…..a…re….…y…y…ou?” Speaking was so difficult. “I am Elrohir, the youngest son of Lord Elrond, the Lord of Imladris. I will call my father now. He told me to inform him as soon as you were awake. He is a skilled healer and has tended to your injuries.” Elrohir turned around and walked out of the room, leaving the Elf on the bed utterly confused. He had no idea where he was… Why he was here… What had happened… And even worse… He had no idea who he was. ------------------------------------------------------- A short while later, Elrohir returned with his father. While the injured Elf had been unconscious his injuries had begun to heal. The swelling of his face had gone back down and he had been washed. Once the swelling, blood and dirt were gone it had become clear to Elrond and Glorfindel that his patient was King Thranduil of Mirkwood. The twins, who had never met the haughty King, did not know. However, Erestor seemed to suspect something Sure, it had been centuries since he had last met Thranduil, but still, someone like the King of Mirkwood was not so easy to forget. This would be difficult, Elrond was sure. Relations between Mirkwood and Imladris were almost nonexistent, because the King had wanted it that way. Elrond had tried to improve the relationship countless times over the centuries, but had given up in the end after all efforts had proven fruitless. Thranduil could not forget that it had been the Noldor who had slain their kin, and that it had been Gil-galad, their High King, who were, in his opinion, responsible for the death of his father. Well, there was no use arguing about the Kinslayin. The Noldor would carry this guilt for the rest of their lives. However, the matter of the death of Oropher, Thranduil’s father, was not so easily solved. Elrond remembered the Battle of the Last Alliance only too well. Oropher had hated the Noldor just as much as Thranduil did now. Serving under Gil- galad had therefore not been to his liking. In the end, Oropher had attacked without the backing of the High King. As a result, not only Oropher had died in the battle, but most of the Sylvan elves. When Thranduil returned to the Mirkwood as the new king, only one third of his people had survived. Seeing so many of his people die was something Thranduil could not forgive. He could not forgive the High King, and since Gil-galad had not survived the battle either, Thranduil’s anger was focused on the one who was left behind, Gil-galad’s herald and lover – Elrond. All this went through Elrond’s mind when he entered the healing house to face Thranduil. Elrond sat down next to the bed. His grey eyes searched Thranduil’s face for any clues of what to expect. To his surprise, where he expected anger, distance and loathing, all he saw was confusion and fear. “Who are you?” Elrond was confused. What kind of game was this? “I am Elrond of Rivendell,” Elrond replied, cold and distant. Thranduil shook his head. “Elrond – Rivendell… This sounds familiar, but I do not know why.” His voice was barely audible. Admitting that he didn’t know anything made him feel embarrassed. “Do you know what has happened?” Elrond inquired gently. “The other Elf told me that I was found in the woods… by… by…” He was searching! for the name… “Lord Glo… Oh, I don’t know,” he sighed. “Lord Glorfindel,” Elrond finished. “What is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?” Elrond tried to get a better understanding of the situation. The Elf before him sighed but did not answer. “Sure there must be something you remember?” Elrohir tried to encourage the blond Elf. However, Thranduil just shook his head. “I don’t remember anything,” he sighed. Elrond and Elrohir’s eyes went wide in surprise. Elrond anticipated that this would not be easy, but this was a lot worse than he had thought. After a quick glance at the tired face of the blond he decided to let this matter rest for today. Thranduil was still weak and needed to rest. There was more than enough time to deal with this situation later. Elrond put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “You are exhausted and should rest now. We will discuss /this later.” Thranduil stifled a yawn. He was tired indeed. Still there was one last thing he needed to know. Looking up at Elrond, he asked, “You don’t happen to know who I am?” Elrond was confused. “What do you mean?” What kind of wicked game was Thranduil playing? On the other hand, looking at the elf on the bed made Elrond doubt this. He looked seriously frightened and embarrassed. Thranduil’s cheeks went crimson when he answered. “I do not even know my name,” he whispered, barely audible even to Elven ears. Elrond shook his head. This must be a nightmare, and surely he would awake any minute. The blond Elf kept his gaze fixed on Elrond, his eyes full of hope. Elrond took a deep breath. “I do know your name. You are Thranduil of Mirkwood.” Thranduil shook his head. The name meant nothing to him, and he was so tired. Thinking was too difficult right now, and his eyes became vacant again. “To love and hate, to hate and love”, Part 4/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! Glorfindel and Erestor were waiting in Elrond’s study for his return. “I am not sure if we should send a letter to Mirkwood. We should wait and see if they send out messages, inquiring about Thranduil..” Erestor was reluctant to contact Mirkwood over this matter. Glorfindel stepped closer to his lover and put his hands on the shoulders of the slightly shorter Elf in front of him. “You are right, but if it was Elrond who was missing we would want to know his whereabouts as well.” His hands were moving over Erestor’s chest while he was speaking, gently caressing the dark haired Elf while nibbling on his neck, placing kisses anywhere he could reach. Erestor leaned into the embrace, enjoying the closeness of his lover. Elrond watched his two advisors and friends, amused. “It seems that lately the two of you can hardly keep your hands off each other”, he laughed when he entered the room. Both Elves blushed and moved a few steps apart, which made Elrond laugh even harder. It was good to see Elrond laugh, Glorfindel mused, even if it was at his expense. The Lord of Imladris was far too solemn for his own good. “I have just spoken with Thranduil. Right now he does not remember anything…not even his name,” Elrond explained, “I have no idea how long it will take, or if he will remember at all, but there is nothing we can do, except help him and treat him well.” Erestor shook his head. “Are you sure that he is not playing games? And how would any of us be treated in Mirkwood? I am not even sure that they would have helped us at all if we were in a similar situation.” His dislike of the Mirkwood elves was obvious. Even though Glorfindel was not sure how any of them would be treated in Mirkwood in the same situation, he disagreed with his lover. The last time he was in Mirkwood he was treated rather well, except for Thranduil’s arrogant attitude. “No matter how the relations are between Mirkwood and Imladris, it is our duty to treat Thranduil well. Even if he does remember at one point, it will be a lot harder for him to hate us if we treat him well.” Elrond nodded. “Maybe this is a chance for a new beginning. I don’t know, but it seems that the Valar have a plan for how to solve this ongoing feud between Mirkwood and Imladris. We should do our best to make this work. I, for my part, am willing to try, and I expect the same of every member of this household.” Erestor and Glorfindel nodded. If this was the wish of the Lord of Imladris then they would see it done. “I will inform the other members of the household this evening,” Erestor said upon leaving, being followed by Glorfindel. Both seemed to be in a hurry to get out of Lord Elrond’s study. Informing the rest of Imladris about how to treat the injured Mirkwood Elf could wait, Erestor decided.. Right now there was something that needed all of his attention - or someone, to be more precise. Placing a hand over Glorfindel’s buttocks Erestor steered the blond seneschal towards his room. This could not wait, he thought when pulling Glorfindel into a deep passionate kiss. “Erestor, I must go on patrol in half an hour,” Glorfindel reminded his lover when the kiss stopped. “That leaves me enough time to ensure that you will return to me to me as quickly as possible,” Erestor replied with a wicked smile. Nibbling at a tender earlobe, his hands moved inside Glorfindel’s breeches, to discover that his lover was already hard. This was not the time for gentle and lengthy lovemaking -- they were both in need for fast passionate lovemaking. Dragging Glorfindel over to the bed, Erestor undressed his lover. Glorfindel followed swiftly, undressing Erestor in turn. Their lips were still locked in a rough, passionate kiss, tongues exploring, claiming the other’s mouth. Erestor pushed Glorfindel down onto his back. The blond stretched his legs wide when Erestor moved between them, licking his lover’s puckered opening. He reached over to the nightstand, opening the vial of sandalwood scented oil. Pouring the oil in his hand he started massaging the cleft. Pressing one finger in, he started preparing the blond. “No… I need you… take me… take me now…” Glorfindel’s moaned throatily. Erestor obliged immediately, burying his hard flesh deep inside his lover. Glorfindel took a sharp breath as the pain hit him, only to moan loudly seconds later when Erestor brushed against his hidden spot. Glorfindel was so tight, so hot. Erestor knew he would not last long. Glorfindel pushed his hips up, pushing Erestor’s shaft even deeper inside his body. The rhythm they set was fast and hard. Their moans were becoming deeper and more intense as their climax was building. Erestor cupped Glorfindel’s erection, his hand tight around the shaft, rubbing the slit with this thumb, feeling beads of moisture dripping down. Glorfindel could not take any more. Screaming his lover’s name, he spilt his seed onto his belly. Feeling Glorfindel come, Erestor could hold back no longer either, filling his lover with his seed. Spent and panting heavily, both lovers held each other close for a short while. With a sigh, Glorfindel got up to clean himself before rushing to join the patrol. Erestor protested slightly when the body contact broke. “I love you, dear”, Glrofindel whispered. “I promise to come back as soon as I can.” Hurriedly the blond Elf got dressed. It would not give a good example to the soldiers if the seneschal of Imladris was late. He just hoped that the blush on his cheeks would be gone by the time he reached the stables where the patrol was waiting…. To love and hate, to hate and love, Part 5/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! Thranduil was fast asleep in his room in the healing house. Right now it was Elladan’s turn to keep him company. Elrond had made it clear that Thranduil was not to be left alone at any time. His current state of mind worried Elrond a lot. So far, no one knew what had caused the amnesia or how it could be cured. Elladan was reading reports from the border guards while watching over Thranduil’s sleep. The blond Elf was stirring in his sleep, but that was not unusual, for he did that every time his eyes went vacant. It seemed that nightmares haunted him. Thranduil’s moans became louder and more desperate. There was not much Elladan could do, except to move closer to the dreaming Elf, caressing his hand and stroking his hair, but as little as it was, it seemed to help. All of a sudden the sleeping Elf let out a cry and sat up in his bed. His eyes were wide with fear and he was breathing heavily. His body was shaking, his hands trembling. Elladan was startled, his eyes full of worry. “You are safe here, it was just a nightmare,” he reassured the frightened Elf. The raven-haired twin tried to put his arm around Thranduil’s shoulder, but the elder Elf flinched, tensing under the touch. Elladan grew more worried. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?” But Thranduil did not answer. He moved away as far as he could from Elladan, huddling at the opposite edge of the bed, pulling the blanket tightly around his body. He was still shaking and shivering. Elladan had no idea how to deal with this situation. Obviously Thranduil did not want to talk to him, and physical contact made him panic. All Elladan could think of to calm Thranduil down was reading. He took up the book that was on the bedside table and started reading aloud. It was a beautiful poem about Luthien and Beren. Soon Thranduil’s breathing was back to normal and he stopped shivering. Elladan kept reading until Erestor came to take over. -------------------------------------------------- Thranduil did not know where he was. It was dark and cold. His body seemed to ache terribly with every move he made. Even breathing was difficult. He felt hands on his body. Rough violent hands… and then there was more pain…. and more pain. He could not take more of this… It hurt so badly… He just wanted to die… When he awoke he was disoriented. Someone touched him, but he could bear no more. Touch meant pain: that much he remembered. He tried to get away from the touch as far as possible, but surely they would come after him. To his surprise, they did not. Instead, a lovely voice started reading. It was about Luthien and Beren… His mother had read the same poem to him. His mother… He did not remember her, but he was sure it was this poem. Thranduil was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he did not dare to go back to sleep. They would come back in his dreams, and that was more than he could cope with. ----------------------------------------------------------- After sunset Elrond came to see Thranduil. It was the turn of the Lord of Imladris to spend the evening with his patient. He found a red-eyed Elf still laying on the edge of the bed, as far away as possible, his blankets pulled tightly around his form. Elrond arched an eyebrow and looked at Erestor. The chief advisor signalled silently to follow him outside, where he explained what Elladan had told him earlier. “It seems that whatever has happened is haunting him. It will be some time before he will be able to remember clearly, but it seems that it has started,” Elrond observed, “However, I doubt that he will be willing to speak about it any time soon.” Back in Thranduil’s room, Elrond handed his patient a cup of herbal tea, which the Elf drank willingly. Soon he was fast asleep, oblivious to the fact that Elrond had put a sleeping potion in the tea. “You need rest, my friend. Otherwise you will never heal.” Elrond stroked the blond mane gently before settling down in the chair for the night. “I will watch your sleep and chase away all bad dreams,” the Elven lord promised. ------------------------------------------- When Thranduil awoke he had slept for fourteen hours without stirring in his sleep. Elrond was satisfied, since this was exactly what his patient needed. Thranduil had spent the last three weeks in the healing house, since his numerous injuries had only healed slowly. When the Lord of Imladris returned in the afternoon to check on the bandages, he offered to take his patient for a walk. True, Thranduil was still weak, but Elrond thought that some sun would do his charge good. Thranduil was more than happy, as he had been eager to get out of bed for days. This had gotten to the point where Glorfindel had threatened to put Thranduil under constant guard to ensure that he would stay in bed. It was a spectacular day. The sun was shining brightly, warming the air and bringing out the radiant colours of the roses in the garden even. Elrond walked slowly, constantly ensuring that their little walk would not be too much for Thranduil. After a short time they had reached the rose garden, which Celebrian had planted and they sat down on one of the benches. Thranduil took a deep breath, trying not to show how exhausted he was. Elrond noticed how weak his patient still was, but decided not to mention it. For a while they sat there quietly, enjoying the sunny afternoon. Elrond studied the blond Elf closely. He was still very pale and some of the injuries were still showing as bright red scars on his face. “There is a messenger leaving for Lothlorien tomorrow. I will give him a letter for your family to inform them of your whereabouts. I was thinking that maybe you would want to write a few lines also. Even if you do not remember them right now, it might be good.” Thranduil’s mind was spinning. For a moment he thought he would be sick when Elrond mentioned his family. He was breathing heavily, sweat forming on his forehead. Elrond looked at him with growing concern. “Are you alright, Thranduil?” Thranduil shook his head. This would be difficult to explain, but he had to try. “I cannot explain it, but I’d rather you did not send any letter to my family.” Elrond arched his brow in surprise. “I do not understand….” Thranduil sighed. “I cannot explain it at the moment. I do not even remember my family, but I have a bad feeling about this. Please, wait some time. I am sure I will remember soon and then I will know what to do.” This was getting more and more complicated, Elrond thought, but on the other hand, so far they did not know what had happened at all. What if members of Thranduil’s family were involved? Sure, this was a thought Elrond would rather ban from his mind, but at the same time, could he rule it out completely? The Lord of Imladris nodded in agreement. “I will not send any message to your family for the time being. Do not worry.” Thranduil looked at him gratefully, his hands still shaking. Elrond took the blond Elf’s hand in his and caressed it gently. For a second Thranduil wanted to pull the hand away, but then he realised that not only did he not fear Elrond, and that this felt good. Feeling the warm gentle strokes of Elrond’s hand calmed Thranduil down considerably. They sat in silence until a bell announced that it was time for dinner. To love and hate, to hate and love, Part 6/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! Several weeks passed without much improvement. Thranduil had insisted that he would not be watched around the clock and that he would be moved from the healing house to one of the guest quarters. He was confident enough to spend some hours on his own. Mostly he would walk in the garden or read in his room. Even though the Elves of Imladris would treat him politely at the order of their Lord, most of them had no desire for closer contact with Thranduil. He might not remember much at the moment, but Mirkwood and Imladris have not been on good terms for millennia after all. Thranduil was still very quiet and remembered very little. He was happy to be left alone. Nearly every night he would awake from nightmares, but he kept that to himself. The others were worrying enough as it was. Elrond and his sons, as well as Erestor and Glorfindel, were making much effort to ensure his well-being. All this attention was too much for him. However, the fact that he could still not piece together his history disturbed him greatly. He longed to know who he was and where he came from. On the other hand, he was also afraid that he would not like what he would learn when his memory came back. One afternoon when walking in the garden, he made up his mind and headed for Elrond’s study. He found the Lord of Imladris on his desk working on some parchments. “May I disturb you, Lord Elrond?” Thranduil asked shyly when the raven-haired Elven lord looked up. Elrond smiled and signalled for Thranduil to sit down. “How can I help you, or are you just looking for company, my dear friend?” While staying in Imladris Thranduil had proven to be quite different from the haughty king Elrond remembered from their last encounter centuries ago. By now he had grown fond of the blond. Thranduil shook his head. “I am here on serious business.” Elrond tensed. Had Thranduil finally remembered everything and would now turn into the bitter Elven king again, who could not forgive what had happened millennia ago? By Elbereth, he hoped not. Over the past few weeks Elrond had grown very fond of Thranduil. They had spent many afternoons walking in the garden, talking or just sitting there silently. Elrond had to admit that he enjoyed Thranduil’s company. Thranduil’s voice brought him back from his musings. “As you know, I still remember very little of my past, of my life in general. This is most irritating and I cannot go on like this. I do remember that when I first woke up it was you who told me my name. This must mean that you know at least something about me, about my life. Please tell me everything you know, Elrond.” Elrond shook his head. “I am not sure that this is such a good idea. We do not know what effect this will have on you, Thranduil.” Sure, this was true, Thranduil had to agree, but still, he wanted this so badly. “You might be right, but I cannot go on like this. I am willing to take the risk.” Elrond sighed. This would not be easy at all. Still, if this had to be done, he wanted to do it properly. He would not tell Thranduil any lies. If the King wanted to know his history, Elrond would tell him. He had known right from the beginning that the day would come where/when Thranduil would remember everything – and he surely would remember after hearing what Elrond was about to tell about his life. Slowly he started telling the tale of Thranduil’s family, the history of his father, including Oropher’s death at the Last Alliance. How Thranduil became King of the Mirkwood. Then he continued telling about Thranduil’s achievements to turn Mirkwood into a strong and powerful Kingdom that was able to defend against the evil around him. He did not forget to mention the Battle of the Five Armies. He was surprised at how much he knew about Thranduil, considering that their paths had rarely crossed since the Last Alliance. However, there was little Elrond knew about Thranduil’s family. He remembered that he had married one the most beautiful maidens of Mirkwood, and that they had four children - three boys and a girl. Elrond knew only a little about Thranduil’s children, but at least he could remember their names – Ceriben - the crown prince, Eluin, and Legolas, the youngest…. And the daughter’s name was Siriel. Elrond had been talking for hours, and Thranduil had been listening carefully, taking in every piece of information. Elrond eyed his listener occasionally, but the Thranduil’s face did not show if he remembered anything. All Elrond saw was utter concentration. But when Elrond mentioned the princes and princess of Mirkwood, things changed. All of a sudden Thranduil’s eyes went wide in shock, his hand grabbing the armrest of the chair, nails digging into the wood. His whole body was trembling. Elrond walked around his desk, quickly putting his arm around Thranduil’s shoulder. “What happened, my friend?” Thranduil shook his head. “I do not know, but the names brought back memories… I can not place or put them in order right now, but my memories are coming back It was that name… Ceriben… and I feel no good when I think of that name.” Elrond was not sure what to make of this. After all, Ceriben was Thranduil’s son, his heir. So far Elrond had never heard that there had been any troubles between father and son that went beyond the usual quarrels between parents and children. However, looking at Thranduil’s current state Elrond was sure that there was more to this than what Thranduil had revealed. Gently he put his arm around the Elf’s shoulder, trying to calm Thranduil down. “Think hard, Thranduil. What do you remember? Did you have an argument with your son? Or is your son in trouble? Whatever it is, I am sure the two of you can work it out.” Thranduil looked at Elrond, completely lost. “Honestly Elrond, I have no idea what has happened. The only thing I know for sure it that I have a bad feeling when I think about that name.” Shrugging his shoulders, he headed for the door. “I have taken up too much of your time as it is. This has been a very tiresome afternoon. Please understand that I need some rest. I will see you at dinner tonight.” Elrond nodded and let him go. He too needed some rest. Revealing the details of Thranduil’s past to the Elf had emotionally exhausted him. He was wondering why. It seemed that he had begun to care for the blond Elf. Elrond shook his head. “I do not like Thranduil. I haven't for millennia, and this has not changed overnight!” But was this true? Did he still dislike the blond Elf? Or was it becoming increasingly difficult to have an aversion for someone who was so lost and helpless, and proved to be such a pleasant and entertaining companion at the same time? No, Elrond was sure he liked Thranduil, and this new friendship grew a little every day. Was this the reason why he had left out the topic of the relationship between himself and Thranduil in the past when he told the blond Elf the story of his life? Elrond sighed. There was still time to deal with that. He just hoped that the Thranduil would not start to hate him and Imladris again. Thranduil returned to his room exhausted. This afternoon had brought a huge load of information and emotion. So far he had been unable to put any of them in place. The feeling was overwhelming, and draining the last bit of energy from his mind. He was so tired. All Thranduil needed right now was some rest, shutting down his brain. His sighed and lay down on his bed. His head was spinning. When he closed his eyes, a vast amount of images flickered before his eyes…. Faces, incidents, places. At first he was unable to identify anything he saw, but the longer it went on, the more familiar some of the scenes looked. There were his parents, his mother cradling him. His father teaching him archery. The palace in Mirkwood… His wife...He remembered those things. He could feel the presence of his children, but there were no matching images. Every time he thought he would see his children, the picture was pitch black. More and more images made sense to him and eventually he was able to piece together a substantial amount of his past. Some of the images were painful, like the death of his father, but it was a relief to know that his memory was coming back in the end. Relief filling his thoughts, he fell asleep. “To love and hate, to hate and love”, Part 7/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! In his dreams, Thranduil found himself in a dark room. Everything was pitch black, making it impossible for him to orientate himself, so he had even less chance of finding out where he was. He tried to move a few steps, only to realise that his feet were shackled, forbidding any movement. Behind him he could feel a cold and wet stone wall. The damp floor seemed to be made from solid rock also. Thranduil shivered. His clothes were wet and torn. Moving his legs slowly he realised that he was hurting. In fact every movement was causing him to hurt. Sitting in the dark he was unable to identify the source of pain, but it seemed to be everywhere. He took a deep breath that turned into a painful moan. Thranduil felt as though dozens of knives were stabbing his chest. The pain was ineffable. He tried to remember what had happened, but his head was throbbing with pain. Raising his hand to his face, Thranduil found a nasty wound just above his right temple. It was not bleeding any more, but it still hurt. He tried hard to piece together what had happened, but all he saw were shreds of memories hidden in mist. He remembered sitting in the great hall. He was dressed as splendidly as usual, for he was known all throughout Middle Earth for his appearance that outshone most other Elves. The green ceremonial robe was made out of velvet, and decorated with intricate embroidery along the sleeves, edges and neck. Over that he wore a heavy brocade coat of gold and brown. His golden hair was like a crown, braided with the royal knots of Mirkwood, which he wore proudly. A golden circlet on his forehead indicated his station among his people. Not that this had ever been necessary. He carried such a regal aura that even in rags he would outshine the people surrounding him. Still, had he had a choice, he would have preferred to wear a tunic and leggings instead of the heavy impractical ceremonial robe he had donned on this morning. Not that he would look any less spectacular in the more comfortable tunic and leggings, but unfortunately important envoys were expected and that required ceremonial clothing. While waiting for the noble guests to arrive, Thranduil’s advisors were keeping him busy with daily business. He hated these tedious discussions, but his advisors were merciless. There was no way that they would let him leave before all this business was finished. Suddenly the door was opened swiftly. Thranduil smiled when he saw his son entering. Ceriben, the crown prince, had always been able to put a smile on his father’s face. Over the years the haughty young elf had grown into a responsible representative of his father’s realm. Being more of a warrior than a diplomat, Thranduil had put more and more military responsibilities on his son’s shoulders. In the meantime his oldest son had become an important advisor in military affairs. Thranduil looked at the prince as he entered. His son reminded him so much of his late wife. His long blond hair was flowing down his back like a stream of silver. Sharp, ice-blue eyes were looking at him. “Father.” Ceriben’s cold voice brought Thranduil back from his musings. Only then he realised that his son had not entered alone. Behind him were several Orcs. He jumped up. “What do are those creatures doing in front of my throne?” he shouted, outraged. Ceriben’s face showed no expression. “As I told you, there would be important envoys arriving today - and here they are, father.” Thranduil was furious. Orcs not only in his realm but also in his palace -- in HIS great hall! This was unheard of! This was unthinkable! “What do you mean, my son?” Ceriben met Thranduil’s eyes, his gaze icy and devoid of any emotion. “Father, as you know we are more endangered by the dark forces out there than any other Elves in Middle Earth. What we need are allies, but so far the other Elves have not been very helpful. Those rings protect their realms. Since their lands are safe, they do little to protect us too. I have looked for support from other sources and I have found a valuable ally who is willing to help us to keep our lands safe.” Thranduil’s head was spinning. Was his son suggesting an alliance with Orcs? “And you think THESE creatures will be a trustworthy alliance? Even if so, the idea was to protect our lands from the evil that surrounds us, not to relinquish our principles!” Ceriben had expected this. His father would not give in easily. “Our primary task is to keep our people safe and this can be done only with our new ally, father. That’s all that counts.” Thranduil had heard enough. “This is folly, Ceriben. Mirkwood will not cooperate with the evil as long as I have anything to say in this land, and since I am still the King, this is the end of this matter. I want these creatures to leave my realm immediately. See to it that they are escorted to the borders of our land by an adequate number of soldiers and make sure that they understand that the next time they enter our lands the welcome will be a lot less friendly.” Thranduil had expected his son to carry out his orders immediately. So he was surprised to hear a disdainful snort coming from his son. Annoyed, he arched an eyebrow. “Father, you misunderstand. They are here to stay whether you like it or not. The alliance with Saruman is sealed with or without your consent. Either you work with us or you will not be King of Mirkwood much longer.” This was too much for Thranduil. How did his son dare! After all HE was still THE KING! Raging, he shouted orders at the guards at the door. “Arrest those creatures immediately. Take my son to his rooms. He will be confined to his rooms until he comes around to reason.” Thranduil’s eyes went wide in shock when he realised that the guards did not move, but looked at Ceriben for instructions instead. “Stay where you are,” the crown prince barked. “Father, you still don’t understand, do you? Your soldiers are on my side. They are under my command and will follow my orders. Realize that you have no power here any more.” He spat those words at his father. Thranduil had the feeling that each word was stabbing his chest like a dagger, leaving deep wounds all over. ”Father, I ask you again, are you with us or against us? Are you willing to be part of this new era in Mirkwood?” Thranduil did not answer. He still could not understand what his son was doing and why. “This is your last chance, King of Mirkwood.” Ceriben was getting impatient. Finally Thranduil looked up, his face a mask of control barely concealing his anger. “I will NEVER give in to evil. You have been raised to value Elven virtue. I do not understand how you can submit to evil, but I will never do this. It is my responsibility as King of this realm to fight evil until my last breath.” Thranduil meant what he said. He would rather die than support evil in his kingdom. He could not understand why his eldest son was acting this way. For centuries Ceriben had helped fighting the evil and all of a sudden he was cooperating with the enemy? Thranduil suspected that his son must be under the influence of some dark power. “Well, that can be arranged, father,” Ceriben snorted. This was not going as planned. He had expected his father to give in if enough pressure was put on him. They needed the King and they needed him alive, a fact that Thranduil would never learn, if Ceriben could avoid it. “Take him to the dungeon. Maybe a night in a cold cell will bring him to reason.” Four guards stepped forward, approaching the King. The closer they came, the more unsteady their steps became. It was one thing to disobey the King’s order, but to arrest him required more courage than they had. They stopped hesitantly, eyes looking at the floor. Ceriben was furious. “Do as I say!” he screamed. Then a new idea came to his mind. Turning around he addressed the Orcs standing behind him. So far they had only watched the scene and not said a single word. “Maybe you would like to take my father to the dungeon? That might give him a better idea of the new alliance.” The Orcs approached the King immediately and tried to get hold of his arms without a word. Thranduil saw them coming and knew that he would not give in without fighting. He punched the first Orc, avoided a hit from the second, but four was more than he could deal with by himself. The King’s advisors stood near the throne with no intention to interfere. This was too dangerous. If the Thranduil lost this fight, they would be on the wrong side. Thranduil felt a punch in his abdomen that pressed all air out of his lungs. The other Orcs used this weakness. Several blows hit the Thranduil all over… His head, chest… he was fighting back as much as he could, but all too soon his strength was fading under the ever-increasing fierceness of the blows. Blood was running from his nose and lips, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. When he was semi-unconscious and had stopped fighting back, the four Orcs dragged him out of the great hall and down long corridors. They passed several elves that stared in shock at their helpless and injured King. However, no one even tried to interfere as the Orcs continued their way to the dungeon. With a brutal push the Thranduil was shoved onto the hard, slippery stone floor of a cell. His body hurt so badly that Thranduil was unable to move. Before he realised what was going on, shackles were fastened to his ankles and the door closed, leaving him in darkness. It did not take long before the pain overwhelmed him and he slipped into unconsciousness. ------------------------------------------- When Thranduil woke up, it took him some time to realise where he was. He had expected that his body would ache, but there was nothing. The blond Elf examined his ribs carefully. It had only been a few hours ago that he had experienced nasty blows to his ribs. If they were not broken they were at least seriously bruised and would take some time to heal. Thranduil pressed harder against his ribs. There was no pain! He sat up, realising that he was sitting on a bed, soft pillows and clean white bed linen around him. Slowly it dawned on him that he was in Imladris and the beating had been nothing but a dream. A sigh of relief left his mouth. Still, at the same time he understood that it was more than just a dream. Ceriben, the Orcs, the dungeon… All this was part of the still missing pieces of his past. His son Ceriben had taken over power in Mirkwood. Slowly his memories came back. He was pacing his room restlessly as the images hit him. The scene in the great hall… The beating from the Orcs… The dungeon… And then he started to remember that this had only been the beginning of much worse to come. An overwhelming flow of images hit his mind. They went so fast that he couldn’t identify any individual pictures. Still, he was trembling, cold sweat on his forehead, as all images had one common meaning. All images in his mind were about pain, abuse and torture… All of which had happened to him… All of which had happened in Mirkwood…. All of which had happened with the consent of his son, if not at the order of his son. This discovery hit Thranduil like a punch in his stomach. Shivering, he fell to his knees, clutching his waist with his arms. Tears were running down his face. He was sobbing, unrestrained shivers going through his body. The pain wracking his body and mind was more than he could bear. He didn’t know how long he had been keeling on the floor, tears running down his face, when a hand gently touched his shoulder. He flinched, scared to death by the sudden contact. “Thranduil do not fear me. It’s, I. Elrond,” a deep, low voice whispered. Thranduil wiped his face. He did not want to be seen crying. “Elrond, why are you here in my rooms at this late hour?” He tried to sound calm but his voice betrayed him. All those overwhelming emotions were impossible to hide. “Noises from your room woke me up and I decided to check on you, my friend,” Elrond replied, his face filled with worry. The Elf in front of him was obviously in deep despair. “What is it that haunts you?” Thranduil shook his head. There was no way that he could tell Elrond. The Lord of Imladris would turn away, disgusted, if he ever found out. “It is nothing, just a few unpleasant memories coming back.” Elrond sensed that there was much more to this than /Thranduil admitted, but there was no use in pressuring the distressed Elf. That would only make Thranduil shy away even more. Gently Elrond helped the blond Elf up. His hair was a tangled mess, sticking to his tear-stained face. Slowly the two Elves made their way to the bed. Elrond helped the Mirkwood Elf to lie down, tucking in the cover around him. Thranduil let out a deep sigh. There was no way he could go to sleep. The memories would haunt him in his dreams and this was more than he could cope with right now. Deep in his heart he knew that he did not want to be alone, but there was no way that he could admit that to Elrond. The raven- haired Elf would ask for an explanation and opening up to Elrond was what he feared most. Elrond sensed the inner fight of the distressed Elf in front of him. “I will stay here tonight,” he said in a tone that did not allow any discussion. Thranduil’s eyes shone with relief. He cuddled into his blankets, turning his head away from Elrond. The Lord of Imladris stroked his tangled blond hair gently. He flinched away at first, but when the touch did not cease he relaxed eventually. Soon his sapphire eyes became vacant. “To love and hate, to hate and love”, Part 8/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! Elrond looked at the sleeping Elf, worried. Whatever it was Thranduil was hiding, it must have caused severe pain and distress, obviously more than the he could cope with. At the same time Elrond knew that the Mirkwood elf was too proud to confess his innermost fears willingly, no matter how much it hurt. He needed all the support he could get and Elrond would make sure that he got it. Leaning back in his padded chair, his eyes rested on the sleeping figure on the bed. Some time later Elrond startled from sleep. Thranduil was stirring in his sleep, obviously pestered by serious nightmares. He was moaning as if in pain. “No, don’t do this to me… Stop it…. I don’t want this.” Thranduil’s voice became louder -- he was screaming in panic. Elrond hurried over to the bed, taking the hurting Elf in his arms. Holding the trembling figure close to his chest, the raven-haired Lord tried to calm him down with soothing words. It seemed to help, as Thranduil calmed down and stopped screaming. Elrond put him back on the bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. Thranduil was still shivering and trembling. Elrond remained sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Thranduil with increasing worry. When the trembling did not cease after some time, Elrond decided to lie down next to the blond Elf, embracing him. The body contact seemed to soothe the Thranduil. He still mumbled quietly in his sleep occasionally, but slept considerably more serenely. Elrond listened to the breathing of the other Elf, relieved as it calmed down. Eventually exhaustion took over and Elrond’s eyes became vacant too. ----------------------------------------------------------- The sun on his face woke Thranduil up. Stretching his limbs slightly, he realised that he was not alone in his bed. Instinctively he tensed, trying to move away from the embrace. An instant later he recognised the dark tresses on the pillow. The Elf that held him was Elrond, but what was he doing here? He tried to move away without awaking the Elven lord, but the grip around his waist was quite tight. As soon as he shifted more Elrond woke up. “Good morning my friend.” Thranduil tensed. He did not want to face the raven-haired Elf. After all, Elrond had seen him breaking down last night. The King of Mirkwood/he could only guess what Elrond was thinking of him now. “Thranduil, calm down. I am not here to do you any harm. You had a terrible nightmare last night. When you wouldn’t calm down I held you in your sleep until you had relaxed, and then I fell asleep also.” Elrond tried to talk some sense into the tense figure in his arms. Still, he was not ready to release Thranduil… Not yet. Thranduil held his breath, unable to move. One part of him wanted to get away as quickly as possible, but another part relaxed in Elrond’s arms. It had been a long time since he had felt so safe. Thranduil let out a deep sigh. “I am here for you, Thranduil. Whatever it is that bothers you so much, I will do what I can to ease your burden. Please trust me. You are not alone.” Deep in his heart Thranduil wished that he could believe these words, but would he be able to trust anyone again? The two Elves lay quietly for some time, their even breathing being the only audible sound. Occasionally Thranduil shivered as if last night’s frightening nightmare was still haunting him. Every time Elrond tightened his grip around the blond Elf, reassuring him that he was not alone. After a while Thranduil fell asleep again in the arms of the Lord of Imladris. Last night’s terrors had drained too much strength from the blond Elf. Elrond had hoped that Thranduil would open up and finally trust him, but the other Elf did not dare tell him what was troubling him so much. Despite all the reassurance, Thranduil still felt that the Elven lord would despise him should he know what had happened. ----------------------------------------------- During the days that passed Thranduil seemed to have recovered some of his strength. Every day more and more of his memory came back, making him a valuable advisor in many matters. Soon the Thranduil became Erestor’s right hand, making the work of Elrond’s chief counsellor easier in many respects. Having ruled Mirkwood for millennia, Thranduil had acquired impressive knowledge, from which Imladris was benefiting now. Even though Thranduil was spending most of his days in Erestor’s study the two Elves remained distant. Erestor had tried his best to become acquainted with Thranduil but the Mirkwood Elf blocked all attempts. Frustrated, Erestor had given up after some time. “I have tried everything,” he had complained to Glorfindel one evening. “Jokes, harmless questions about Mirkwood, talk about the weather, staff gossip… Nothing generates a response from Thranduil.” Glorfindel considered this for a while. “Maybe what he needs is solitude. I know, he should not be alone, but it seems that he needs solitude in company.” Erestor looked at him, confused, while playing with a blond strand of hair. “What he needs is to be left alone. No questions, no one pressuring him into conversation or activities. When Thranduil is ready he will respond.” Erestor had decided to adopt the strategy his lover had suggested. He was still talking to Thranduil as if the other Elf would talk back readily. However, the difference was that once he did not expect an answer any more the behaviour of the blond Elf did not irritate him at all. -------------------------------------------------- The days did not bear much danger any more. Most Elves in Imladris had accepted that Thranduil did not want to talk. Erestor would still chatter during work as if Thranduil was answering, but recently he did not seem to expect a response. In fact, Thranduil found the stories of Elrond’s dark- haired counsellor quite entertaining – as long as no response was required. The nights however were far worse. Every time his eyes went vacant the nightmares returned. Even worse, the longer this went on, the more graphic details his dreams revealed - painful details, which Thranduil had hoped he would never remember. He did not dare tell anyone about his dreams. They were too appalling to be articulated. Still, he was relived that Elrond had started staying with him every night. His nightmares were less intense and he slept considerably calmer knowing that the Lord of Imladris was watching over his sleep. “To love and hate, to hate and love”, Part 9/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! The storm outside had been raging for hours and there was no sign that this would stop any time soon. A heavy thunderstorm was accompanying the voracious wind, rattling windows and doors all over Imladris. Lighting coloured the scene in surreal pale light. Even under normal circumstances this weather was a challenge, Elrond thought while he was on his way to Thranduil’s chamber. Ever since Glorfindel had returned from the Halls of Mandos, nights like this had been difficult for him. Elrond did not know whether the cause was the Halls themselves or the fight with the Balrog. Glorfindel did not want to talk about it and Elrond reluctantly accepted this. Tonight his seneschal was safe in Erestor’s arms. One less person to worry about, Elrond thought, relieved, while hurrying down the corridor. Thranduil was crouching in a corner, flinching every time lighting struck. Elrond embraced the trembling figure gently, leading him to the bed. Immediately Thranduil buried his face against Elrond’s chest, calming down slowly. The storm went on for hours, but eventually Thranduil fell asleep leaning against Elrond. Relieved, Elrond decided to get some rest also. ---------------------------------------------------- A scream startled the Lord of Imladris some time later. He had no idea what the time was. It was still dark outside. The storm had decreased, but heavy rain was still pouring down. Fat raindrops were drumming on the roof, creating a soothing background noise. Elrond still had his arms folded tightly around Thranduil, but the blond Elf was fighting him, screaming desperately in his sleep. Elrond was punched painfully as Thranduil used his arms for defence against the invisible attacker in his dream. Still, Elrond held on to Thranduil’s trembling body trying to soothe him, but to no avail. Soon it became obvious that this was the worst night Elrond had experienced so far whilst taking care of Thranduil. There was nothing he could do while his friend was asleep. Gently he tried to wake up the trembling Elf. After what seemed like ages, Thranduil’s eyes became focused again, and the blond stopped hitting him. For some time he just lay on the bed, panting heavily. Thranduil was fighting an invisible enemy. It was the same as every night. An invisible force continued to attack him. Every night he was assaulted before he could see the attacker. Even the end of the dream was the same every night. He would wake up falling into a deep black ravine, drowning in burning hot lava at the bottom of the canyon. Tonight it was different. He awoke before he hit the ground. Slowly he was able to focus again, realising that he was in his room in Imladris, with Elrond’s arms wrapped around him securely. For a while Thranduil just lay there trying to recover from his regular nightmare. But tonight was different. As he lay there images hit his mind again. This had happened before when his memory had started to come back. This time the images were worse than everything he had experienced during that process. These torturing images hit his unprotected mind so fast that it seemed that his brain would explode… His head was about to burst. After a while he couldn’t fight anymore and gave in to the pain. Soon the images slowed down, forming a more coherent picture. He found himself in the pitch-black dungeon again. His body was throbbing from pain as result of the beating he had received in the great hall. He was determined not to give up, but what would they do to him? Anyway, even death was better than surrender to the evil. In death he would at least be united with his beloved wife again. He missed her so much. He lay in darkness on the cold stone floor for what seemed like forever. When the door was opened he tried to sit up, struggling since his bruised ribs caused dreadful pain in his chest. There were the Orcs again. It was difficult to tell if those were the same Orcs that had brought him here, as to him all Orcs looked more or less the same. Before he could think more about this, he was dragged out of the cell and down long corridors. Admittedly, it had been a while since he had last been down here, but he didn’t remember that his fortress had had a dungeon like this. There seemed all kinds of devices Thranduil had never seen before. What had been going on down here? He also noticed the disconcertingly large number of Orcs down here. How many of these creatures were already in his palace? Before he could muse more on this thought he was thrown into another room. Glancing around, Thranduil saw a collection of devices that made his stomach contract. Not that he had ever used any of those, but he knew that this was a rather large collection of torture equipment. Before he knew what was happening his hands were secured in metal manacles hanging from the ceiling. His feet were pulled apart and bound in shackles. The wrists were pulled up high so that his body was stretched unpleasantly, until he was tip-toeing. The injuries obtained last night hurt even more in this uncomfortable position. He eyed the Orcs in front of him. It seemed that they were enjoying their task. Once securely bound, the Orcs stripped him of his clothes, using a knife to cut off the ceremonial robes he was still wearing. Thranduil was relieved when his guards did not remove his leggings. He had heard dreadful stories about what Orcs did with their prisoners. The relief did not last long as a burning pain invaded his back. The Orcs were whipping his back with a thin leather whip, leaving burning red welts all over the smooth white skin. Thranduil bit back the pain, determined not to show his tormentors how much this hurt. However, soon enough the pain was too much to bear and his moans of pain got louder and louder. His back was burning as if it was on fire. He felt liquid running down his back, assumed that it was blood, but no matter how much he was screaming or how much blood was running down his back, the Orcs seemed to be unimpressed and just kept continuing. Just as Thranduil thought he could take no more, Ceriben stood in front of him. “This can be easy or very difficult, father. It is entirely up to you. Cooperate and the torment ends now. Fight, and this will go on until your spirit is broken. It is your decision. We will win either way.” Looking into his son’s eyes, Thranduil saw the reflection of evil. It was clear to him that Ceriben was under the influence of the evil, but there was nothing Thranduil could do right now. Thranduil wished nothing more than for this ordeal to stop, but he could not give in. Evil ruling in his realm would mean much worse things than a beating. It took him all his strength to answer. “I will never cooperate with the evil as long as I will live.” Ceriben was furious. His father was so stubborn, yet they needed him. In the long run the people of Mirkwood would only follow the new rulers if Thranduil supported this. Sure, right now they were all scared, but this would wear off after some time. Resistance would be fierce, Ceriben was sure. For millennia his father had been able to hold evil at bay without the power of an Elven ring of power. This had only been possible with the support of some of the best soldiers among all Elves in Middle Earth. Those warriors would be dangerous if they decided to stay loyal to their King. Only if Thranduil surrendered to the new authority could this be avoided. “You know what you have to do,” Ceriben addressed the Orcs before he left. Evil sounded in his voice and Thranduil thought that he had caught the Echo of Sauruman’s voice in it. As soon as Ceriben had left the whipping continued. It felt as if his whole back was nothing but raw flesh by the time the Orcs stopped. Thranduil’s hands were lowered and unhooked from the chain hanging from the ceiling. Without the chain holding him up, his abused body sagged to the floor. He did not lie there long before the Orcs dragged him over to a table in the middle of the room. Bending him over the rough wooden table, his hands were secured once again, holding him down securely. As soon as his hands were in place the Orcs attached shackles to his ankles, again forcing his legs wide apart. Laughing viciously, the Orcs moved closer, beginning to explore his exposed body, cutting his leggings away. Thranduil closed his eyes. This could not be true. Ceriben would not allow this to be done to him. I am still his father… He felt rough hands parting his buttocks before a large hard erection pressed against his buttocks. He had not fully grasped what was about to happen when a long, thick Orcish cock forced its way deep past the tight entrance. One brutal thrust and the Orc was fully sheathed. Thranduil felt tremendous pain, his screams echoing in the dungeon as the Orc pounded mercilessly. To Thranduil it seemed that the pain would never cease. He had never lain with a male. He was very young when he had met his wife. The love between them was so deep that he had never wanted to bed someone else. When she went to Mandos’ Halls, Thranduil had not had any desire for another lover, for his heart still belonged to his wife. The Orc rammed him with quick, deep thrusts, increasing the pace. Once the Orc was spent, another took over. Thranduil was in agony. The brutal thrusts had torn him badly and blood dripped down his legs. Every thrust sent bolts of pain through his body, but the Orcs didn’t care. They just continued to rape him, making him lose count of how many had raped him. Between the brutal thrusts. they would continue beating his back, thighs and buttocks, keeping him in a semi-conscious state. Once they were satisfied with the amount of pain they had inflicted they continued, insulting /him verbally. “He has been so good to us giving us relief we should give something back to him”, one of the Orcs sneered. Before Thranduil realised what this meant, a rough hand stroked lax member, moving up and down. “Oh no… please not…” Thranduil was shocked realising that he was getting hard, his body betraying him. Under the calloused Orcish fingers his member grew hard. It did not take long and Thranduil was coming spilling his seed over himself. The rape had been humiliating but that had been nothing compared to this. Being forced to come in front of Orcs who had just raped him was more than Thranduil could take. Tears were running down his face. He was ready to die. “We want to make sure that you won’t die”, one of the creatures growled. “We still need you, and enjoying this makes sure that you will live.” Their laughter was reverberating in his head. He had no idea how much time he had spent in the torture chamber when he was finally thrown back into his cell. Naked and covered in blood and his own semen, he lay on the cold wet stone floor. Pain and exhaustion made him lose consciousness as soon as the door was closed. -------------------------------------------------- The rhythm would continue for some time. They would wake him up and feed him dirty water and bread before taking him to the torture chamber again. Every time they had new torture devices they would use on him. Every time Ceriben would come down to the dungeon to ask him if he would surrender. Every time Thranduil would refuse. And every time the Orcs would rape him for hours after that making sure that he would come too so that he would survive, throwing him back into his cell covered in semen and blood. He had no idea how much time he had spent in the dungeon like this. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was growing weaker every day. The little food, the humiliation and the continuing torture and rape took its toll on body and mind. ----------------------------------------------------------- “Thranduil, are you alright?” Elrond’s soft voice brought the blond Elf back from his dark thoughts. He had not realised that tears were running down his face. Elrond gently turned him around until they were facing each other. He carefully wiped away the tears on Thranduil’s face before pulling him into a close embrace. “Please tell me what is haunting you, my friend. This is consuming all your strength and it seems that you cannot fight it alone. Confide in me and I promise I will do all I can to ease your pain.” Elrond caressed the shaking figure in his arms while speaking. Thranduil was sobbing and trembling. The Lord of Imladris grew more concerned. They lay there like that for what seemed like ages. However, when he had almost given up hope that Thranduil would talk, the blond Elf began slowly mumbling quietly. It took all his courage but he started telling Elrond of his son’s betrayal, the torture and the humiliation in the dungeon. Tears were flowing freely and Elrond held him in a strong embrace for the whole time caressing his back soothingly. Once he had finished Elrond pulled him even closer. “I was aware that you must have endured some terrible things, but I had no idea…" Thranduil looked up. “You are not disgusted?” Elrond shook his head. “None of this is your fault. You have suffered unimaginable torture to body and mind. It is a wonder that you are still alive and sane, my friend. You are one of the strongest Elves I have ever seen. I promise that I will give you my support to make sure that you will fully heal.” Thranduil sighed. Knowing that someone cared felt so good and Elrond’s voice brought him back from the thoughts. “You have not told me yet how you managed to escape, my friend.” Thranduil sighed. The dungeon and the torture by Orcs had only been the beginning of his ordeal. When he had escaped he had thought that nothing worse could happen to him, but how wrong had he been. “Please do not ask that of me right now. These are more dark memories and I don’t think I can face much more right now.” The blond Elf looked exhausted. Reliving his ordeal had tired Thranduil tremendously. Asking more questions would be too much right now. Elrond nodded. “Take your time, Thranduil. There is not rush to tell me. You should rest now. I will watch over your sleep, chasing away all bad dreams that might occur.” Finally Thranduil’s battered mind allowed the thought that Elrond could be trusted. Feeling safe in Elrond’s embrace, Thranduil snuggled up closer to his raven-haired guardian, falling asleep immediately. Elrond could not find rest even when the breathing next to him calmed down. There was too much going through his head. All the abuse Thranduil had endured at the hand of his son… Having been raped by Orcs… Elrond could hardly imagine what this did to an Elf. Most Elves faded away after having been raped. He had never had any doubt that Thranduil was strong, but the blond had shown extreme resilience. Elrond wondered what had kept Thranduil alive during the darkest moments. While thinking about all this, Elrond was fighting with entirely different emotions also. True, when he had discovered that the beaten and tortured stranger Glorfindel had brought here was his enemy, Thranduil, Elrond had tended to him out of compassion. One could never know what benefit might come out. By and by this had turned into something completely different. He enjoyed Thranduil’s company, and talking in the library or taking walks together in the garden had become part of both Elves’ daily routine. A routine Elrond missed more and more whenever it had to be cancelled for more important matters. Elrond would not admit it, but deep in his heart he felt that there was more to this than just enjoying the blond Elf’s company. He would not admit it, not even to himself, but he was falling in love with the Thranduil. Trying to ban this thought from his mind, Elrond finally fell asleep. “To love and hate, to hate and love”, Part 10/10 By: Veasse (sirilner@yahoo.com) Pairings: Elrond/ Thranduil, Glorfindel/ Erestor Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, torture, angst Summary: Thranduil and Elrond have been enemies ever since Thranduil’s father died in the Last Alliance. Dramatic events in Mirkwood change the odds for both parties. When Thranduil loses his memory he ends up in Imladris regaining more than he had hoped for. Disclaimer: I do not own the elves; all belong to the late Mr. Tolkien. Archive: yes, but please ask first Beta read by Ilye and Morgana – thank you so much! When he awoke hours later Elrond felt an intense stare on him. Turning his head sideways he looked into a pair of intense sapphire eyes, shining brightly. Thranduil greeted the sleepy Elf-lord with a smile. “Good morning, Elrond.” The Lord of Imladris could not order his feelings. Having Thranduil so close felt so good… too good. Thranduil’s breath on his skin caused a tingling sensation. He wished this moment would never pass. His head was swimming. Unable to think clearly, he leaned over slightly, their faces only inches away now, both panting slightly. Before he was aware what he was doing, Elrond’s his lips met Thranduil’s in a gentle kiss. Thranduil startled for a second, but the sensation felt too good to withdraw. Elrond deepened the kiss when Thranduil leant more into him, opening his mouth slightly, allowing Elrond’s tongue in. He explored the blond’s mouth gently but thoroughly. Thranduil tasted so good, so sweet. He could feel the blond Elf melting into him. He held Thranduil in a close embrace, his arms wrapped around the slender waist of the Mirkwood Elf. Thranduil’s hands caressed his back while their kiss deepened. They did not break the kiss until both were desperate for air. Thranduil looked at him coyly. Elrond smiled at the blond Elf. “I think I am falling in love with you.” Thranduil shook his head. “No one can love me. Not after what has happened.” Elrond knew that no words would convince Thranduil of the opposite, but he tried anyway. “You are the most stunning Elf I have ever seen, Thranduil. Why would one not want to love you? What has happened was not your fault. True, it was terrible and you will never forget it, but at the same time, I know that you will learn to live with those experiences eventually.” Thranduil shook his head, feeling tears rising. Elrond, lost for words, pulled the blond Elf closer, placing butterfly kisses all over his face, slowly moving down his neck. Thranduil moaned slightly when Elrond started nuzzling his neck. The moaning increased when Elrond reached a pointed ear, sucking and licking it. Thranduil seemed to melt under his touch. Slowly Elrond caressed every inch of the body beneath him, always careful to be gentle and not demanding at all. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare Thranduil away even further or remind him of his ordeal by acting too roughly. Slowly he undressed the blond Elf, undoing the lacing of the tunic, getting rid of his own clothes swiftly. Moving lower, Elrond’s tongue got hold of a nipple, and it did not take long for it to become erect. Thranduil’s breathing was heavy, filled with needy moans. His sapphire eyes filled with passion, turning indigo. The sound of the blond’s moans made Elrond hard. His erection was throbbing painfully, but he knew that he had to be patient, taking all the time it needed to make Thranduil feel comfortable. He cared too much for the other Elf to fulfil his own needs only. Circling his tongue around Thranduil’s belly button, Elrond moved lower gripping the waistband of Thranduil’s leggings, pulling them down, freeing Thranduil’s throbbing erection. Elrond’s tongue moving ever so slowly until it touched Thranduil’s erection. A deep throaty moan confirmed how much Thranduil enjoyed this. Elrond took Thranduil deep into his mouth, inch by inch until he had swallowed Thranduil’s whole hard flesh. Thranduil was mumbling incoherently , thrashing under Elrond. His hands gripped the sheets when Elrond massaged his balls. His tongue was circling around the hard, throbbing flesh. It did not take long until Elrond could feel that Thranduil was ready to come. Moaning his lover’s name, Thranduil exploded in Elrond’s mouth. Deepthroating Thranduil, Elrond swallowed the Elf’s seed. Moving up, he then placed a kiss on Thranduil’s lips, allowing the blond Elf to taste himself. When Thranduil’s breathing had slowed down, Elrond returned to exploring the body beneath him. Placing more kisses on the pale body of the blond, Elrond moved down again, licking the now limp member gently. His tongue licked further, over the perineum to the small puckered opening, caressing it gently with his tongue. At this touch Thranduil flinched, beginning to shiver. “Please stop this… Oh, I can’t…” Elrond heard the panic in Thranduil’s voice. Looking up, worried, he saw sheer pain and fear in those deep sapphire eyes. Thranduil was panting heavily. “What is it, lovely one?” Elrond asked gently. “I cannot… Please don’t do that to me…“ Thranduil broke off, turning his head away to avoid Elrond’s eyes. Elrond sighed, cursing himself silently. How could he have forgotten! He had been carried away by the passion! Elrond pulled the frightened Elf close, embracing him tightly, ignoring his own throbbing need. “I would never do anything to hurt or frighten you, /my love. I am sorry for my thoughtlessness.” Thranduil calmed down slightly. He could not explain it, but in Elrond’s arms he felt safe. “But how can you love me?” he asked, unsure. “I love you because you are beautiful… Because you are witty… Because you are cunning…. Because you are one of the most amazing Elves I have ever met… And because I discover something new to love in you every day.” Thranduil looked up in surprise. Elrond’s voice sounded serious and so sure of what he had just said. “Because I love you, I will never hurt you. We will take this slowly, at your pace.” Thranduil snuggled up closer to Elrond. This felt so good. Coming in Elrond’s mouth earlier had felt so good. Thranduil’s head was spinning. So many thoughts, so many conflicting emotions were battling inside him. He had never told Elrond, but when his memory had come back he had also clearly remembered their entire feud. He had remembered his father’s death, and the role Gil-galad and Elrond had played. He had also remembered the aftermath of his father’s death; the controversy with Imladris that had gone on for millennia and had increased over time, leaving opposing opinions on both sides, insults building up. Even though he could not just forget all of this, he was aware that in his current position there was no way that he could allow this feelings to master his thoughts. He had nowhere to go. He had come to the conclusion that even if he had somewhere to go, he wasn’t sure anymore that he would leave Imladris. Deep in his heart feelings for Elrond were growing, becoming a little more intense every day. Sometimes, when he awoke at night, he would admit his love for Elrond privately, but so far only reluctantly, too scared to find out that his feelings would not be returned. Tonight, however, had changed everything. It seemed that his feelings were returned after all. Maybe he could learn to trust again after all. Maybe he could learn to love again. If Elrond was so sure that this could work, it was definitely worth a try, Thranduil thought before falling asleep in Elrond’s arms again. He had lost everything he had, his power, his realm, his family, even his dignity. However, it seemed that he was about to gain something he had not had in centuries. It seemed that he was about to find a new love.