Title:  Promise in Ink
Series:  Winner Takes All
Website:  Iavas e Guren  http://fimbrethiel.com
LiveJournal:  http://www.livejournal.com/users/fimbrethiel/
Fiction update list:  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FanSfictionupdates
Email:  fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com
Type:  FPS 
Pairing:  Elladan/Elrohir
Rating:  NC-17
Warnings:  explicit depictions of homoerotic acts between consenting
males, incest, body modification
Disclaimer:  Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate.
Master Tolkien, I mean no harm.  No profit has been made.
Beta:  Minuial Nuwing, who shares my obsession with the twins and their
bond.  Thanks meldis!  =)
Timeline:  The year 1130 of the Third Age
Feedback:  Yes, please!  fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com 
Archive:  Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, aff.net, Cipher:  Wasteland of
the Real

Summary:  The Sons of Elrond profess their love for one another in a
permanent manner.  This is a prequel of sorts to Winner Takes All and
the story of the twins’ tattoos that so fascinated Glorfindel.

Author’s Note #1:  It is recommended to read the trilogy first:  Winner
Takes All, Learning the Game, and finally Changing the Rules, else some
of the references in the epilogue may be unclear.

Author’s Note:  I would like to dedicate this story to Minuial Nuwing.
She is a treasure and a joy to work with.  I hope you enjoyed it as much
as I did, dear Min – your own twins are a source of great inspiration to
me.  Thank you for continually challenging me to raise the bar, and for
all your input, support, and hard work.  **hugs**

For your viewing pleasure, please take a look at the lovely manip
Minuial did for this story.  Thanks, dear, I love it!
http://fimbrethiel.com/artwork/fimtwin.jpg  


Part 1 
~*~*~*~*~

Elrohir woke first, his silver-gray eyes slowly blinking into focus to
greet the dawning of the mid-Ethuil day.  These were his favorite
moments of the day - waking with the solid bulk of his twin curled
against him, their limbs entwined much as they had been even since
birth.  As long as he could remember they had slept thus, arms and legs
all a-tangle, drawing warmth and strength from each other.

Elladan lay flat on his back, and his twin curled against him, their
legs intertwined within the bedroll that kept the early-morning chill at
bay and offered them some protection from the hard, cold ground.
 
The Elf-knight shifted carefully, taking care not to wake his brother,
who was still deep in reverie, his smoky eyes glazed and unseeing.
Propping his head up on a slender hand, Elrohir smiled fondly down at
his twin’s sleeping form, silently drinking in his beauty.  Elladan, to
his brother’s admittedly biased eye, was perfection embodied, the most
beautiful Elf Elrohir had ever seen, and he would never tire of simply
looking at and admiring his twin.  The way Elladan’s eyes crinkled at
the corners was endearing.  The tiny lines that formed around his full
lips when he smiled Elrohir found to be utterly charming.  Even when
roused in anger Elladan’s beauty took his breath away, for then his
lover’s eyes sparked and flashed with silver fire, while his fair flesh
took on a rosy glow  that invariably made Elrohir think of how his
beloved’s skin flushed with desire when they made love.

Elrohir sometimes envied his brother’s stunning physical beauty and
extroverted manner.  It was indeed ironic, had he only known it, that
Elladan held the opposing view, and considering himself to be but a
flawed image of his younger twin.

Where Elladan was bold and impetuous, frequently charging headfirst into
battle or leisure, Elrohir was reserved and methodical, preferring to
strategize and consider before taking action.  Elladan was social and
playful; Elrohir was content to allow his twin to lead the way.  In
fact, the only area in which Elrohir generally took charge was in bed.
Elrohir had become, to their mutual astonishment, the aggressor in much
of their lovemaking over the years, often initiating their couplings,
though yielding fully and blissfully to his older twin whenever Elladan
so chose.

Individually, the brethren had quite unique personalities.  Together,
they were two halves of a whole - perfect complements to one another.

Elladan stirred in his sleep, unconsciously snuggling closer to the
warmth of his brother.  Elrohir grimaced slightly; his morning erection
pulsed dully, pressed hot and hard against his twin’s hip.  No matter
how many times they made love, it was never enough to sustain them for
more than a few hours.  Already, the mere sight and scent of the one he
held dearest in his heart made him hard and throbbing with desire, and
his beloved had not even awakened yet.

He permitted himself a few more moments of silent appreciation before
the near-painful fullness in his loins finally forced him to action.

“Good morning, pen vain,” Elrohir whispered, nuzzling his twin’s neck
through silky strands of inky black hair. (beautiful one)

“Mmm,” Elladan murmured drowsily, his eyes slowly losing their sleep-
glazed appearance and beginning to regain focus.  “Lórien, if this is a
dream, I do not wish to awaken yet…” he begged the Vala of dreams.

Elrohir lifted the hair from his brother’s neck and nibbled at the
slender column from Elladan’s collarbone to the lobe of one delicate
ear.  “Wake, beloved.  ‘Tis no dream,” he said softly, between gentle
kisses to the pulse beating steadily under the milky flesh of Elladan’s
neck.  “I need you.”

“Ohhh,” Elladan sighed, closing his eyes and surrendering to his
brother’s touch.  His mind went back to when they were young, and the
first time Elrohir had spoken similar words to him.  A night when, under
Erestor’s tutelage, Elrohir had claimed his brother as his own.
Elladan’s response to his twin’s touch was unchanged from that very
first time.  No one could ever compare… no one else could send his
passions spiraling to such unbelievable heights.  Elrohir’s arousal
throbbed against his hip, and his own shaft filled in response.  “You
are insatiable, melethron.”  (my lover)

“Aye, if you were not so desirable, I would not be thus.”

Elladan moaned into his brother’s mouth as those soft petals covered his
lips.  He opened willingly and allowed Elrohir’s tongue entrance,
engaging him in an erotic duel of heat and wetness.   As his younger
twin rolled atop him, pressing their heated lengths together through
their leggings, Elladan ground his hips upward and Elrohir’s cock
twitched, beckoning to its mate.  

“Elbereth, what you do to me, ‘Ro,” Elladan whispered raggedly, wide-
awake now.  He twined one of his legs around those of his brother and
quickly flipped him over, reversing their positions, coming to rest on
top of Elrohir.  His pewter eyes twinkled when he kissed the tip of
Elrohir’s nose.  “But if you think for one moment I am going to allow
you to pound my poor backside into the ground again as you did last
night, you are sorely mistaken, melethen.”  (my love)

Elrohir grinned up at the teasing smirk on his twin’s face and rolled
his hips sensually against his brother’s member.  He loved to tease his
twin as much as Elladan loved for him to do it, their playful banter
nearly as stimulating as their actions.  “As I recall, you were not
complaining last night, gwanunigen.  I distinctly remember hearing
someone scream my name to the four winds.”  The younger twin pretended
to think deeply, screwing up his beautiful face in mock concentration.
“If memory serves, I also remember hearing a voice begging me for more.
Unless mine ears deceived me, it was your voice, brother mine.”  (my
twin)

Elladan smiled broadly, remembering their loving of the night previous.
“I remember, tôren.  I remember well each and every thrust of your flesh
deep within me.  How I shall ride today, I do not know.  I shall have to
instruct Faeraug to step gently, or else layer many blankets upon his
back,” he laughed and kissed his brother again.  “I will be sore for
days!”  (my brother)


Elrohir smiled, cherishing the memories of the uninhibited lovemaking
they were able to indulge in while traveling together, away from family
and friends.  The twins relished the opportunity to be as loud and
unrestrained as they wanted in their coupling, frequently making stops
whenever the mood struck, which was frequently.

This return journey to Imladris from Mithlond where they had journeyed
at Elrond’s behest, carrying messages to Círdan, would have taken a
fortnight at a normal pace.  The twins were currently on their tenth day
of travel and still had another week’s worth of riding before reaching
their home due to the number of ‘unscheduled’ stops they had made.

The younger twin pondering something for a moment.  “El, what day is
today?” Elrohir queried.

Elladan looked down upon him curiously.  “Why?  What is the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter, tôr iaur.  I just had a thought – “  (older
brother)

Elladan chuckled.  “That would be a first,” he teased.

Elrohir nipped his brother’s chin and gave a mocking sigh of
resignation.  “Fine.  If you wish to spend another night sleeping upon
stones and bathing in cold river water, eating lembas and dried
berries…”

“’Ro, I was teasing!”  Elladan replied.  “Why?  What were you thinking?”  

“I know you were teasing, silly,” Elrohir retorted, kissing his twin
gently to soften his words.  “Today is the first of May in the calendar
of Men, is it not?”  Elladan calculated the days quickly since leaving
Mithlond, and nodded.  Elrohir continued, “There is a village only ten
leagues, give or take, south of here.  They will probably be celebrating
May Day.  It is tradition to have a festival and celebrate.”  Seeing
Elladan nod in agreement and his eyes light up in interest, Elrohir
continued, “I would dearly love to sleep in a real bed tonight and bathe
in warm water.”

Elladan replied excitedly, “Aye, as would I.  Let us go!  I have heard
of these celebrations of Men and never thought to see one.  There are
food vendors and merchants selling their wares, as well as a celebration
of fire and dancing, if I remember Erestor’s teachings correctly.”

“That is correct, I see you paid attention after all,” Elrohir
commended.

“I did not sleep through Erestor’s lessons, in spite of his insistence
to the contrary.”  Elladan stuck his tongue out playfully.  “It is
almost our begetting day as well; mayhap we should treat ourselves.  The
village is not that far off the Great Road.  Surely Ada would not
begrudge us a few extra days’ travel, would he?”

Elrohir laughed.  “Nay, we are already behind schedule as it is, I do
not think one more day would much make a difference.  So are we agreed,
then?”

“Aye, we are,” Elladan nodded.  “And as soon as I finish ravishing you,
we can set out,” he grinned, and bent his head to capture his brother’s
lips in a searing kiss.

“Mmm,” Elrohir murmured against his twin’s warm lip.  He turned his head
slightly and nuzzled the satiny skin of Elladan’s cheek.  “Use your
hand, El, and I promise on my honor you can have the rest of me tonight,
in the comfort of a bed.  I do not relish bathing yet again in a cold
stream, knowing later today we will have access to warm water and a
bathtub.”

Elladan’s wordless response was to sneak a hand down his brother’s flat
stomach and under the waistband of his leggings.  He grasped Elrohir’s
swollen member and pumped gently under the snug fabric, feeling the warm
skin twitch and pulse under his touch.

Elrohir moaned and raised his hips to meet his brother’s hand.  Snaking
his hands down between their bodies, he struggled with the stays on his
breeches, finally getting them untied before forcefully lifting his hips
and sliding the garment down, allowing Elladan free access to his hard
flesh.  After a bit of fumbling, he finally unlaced his twin’s leggings
and pushed them down over the swell of Elladan’s buttocks.

They lay kissing, lean bodies pressed tightly against one another, chest
to chest.  The silken curtain of Elladan’s hair fell about their faces,
creating a private haven, where all disappeared but the other.  Elladan
wound his fingers through his brother’s raven locks, toying with the
scarlet beads threaded among the few small braids Elrohir always wore.
His tongue plundered his twin’s sweet mouth, his hips thrusting against
Elrohir’s in small circles.  Held captive under his lover’s reassuring
weight, Elrohir ran his palms up and down Elladan’s strong, lean back,
kneading his brother’s bottom as he opened his mouth eagerly.

Their arousals glided against each other, silk and satin and steel and
heat, spreading clear, slick drops of early fluids.  Before long, the
lovers were writhing in feverish desire. Soon the quiet moans rose in
volume to fully voiced cries of bliss.  Elladan reached between their
taut bellies, grasping both swollen arousals together and stroking
firmly, spreading the pearls of moisture over the heads, while Elrohir’s
hands fisted in his hair.  

Their mental bond, always present, opened freely as it always did when
they made love – where one twin’s thoughts began and the other took
over, they were never quite certain, for it seemed they were of a single
mind.

//So close…//
//Elbereth, that feels good…//
//When…//
//Now…//
//More!//
//Cannot… wait…//
//Almost…//
//oh gods hurry!//
//Ohhhh… NOW//
//Ai, yessss!//

A dozen strokes, no more, and they reached their peaks together, their
spilling seed mingling thickly between them, as they cried out each
other’s names to the forest creatures and the skies above.

“Valar, that was incredible,” Elladan panted, lying heavily upon his
twin while catching his breath.  “It is amazing to me that no matter how
many times we do this, each time is perfection it itself.”

Breathing deeply, Elrohir nodded in agreement, his hands still twined in
his brother’s tangled tresses.  “I know what you mean, seron vell.  It
amazes me too, the strength of our twinship, even when we do not…
couple.”  (beloved)

Elladan struggled out of the blankets and sat up, looking glumly at the
congealing mess coating his stomach.  He sighed heavily.  “So much for
not bathing in cold water… back to the stream we shall go.”

Elrohir glanced ruefully down at his own stomach.  “I suppose.  At least
our leggings escaped the mess this time.

Chuckling, Elladan stood and extended his unsoiled hand to Elrohir.
“Aye, but just think, ‘Ro.  Tonight we have *hot* water!”  Elrohir
smiled broadly and reached for his brother’s hand, pulling himself up.

The younger twin shucked off his leggings and sprinted off toward the
chill mountain stream they had bathed in the night before, leaving
Elladan to struggle with removing his own clothing one-handed.  As
Elrohir ran, he grinned and tossed over his shoulder, “Hurry up,
slowpoke!  The sooner we clean up and pack, the sooner we can be on the
road!”

A little while later, chilled and damp but in high spirits, the gwanûn
had dressed, broken camp, packed their gear, and strapped their packs on
their matched horses.  Twin beasts for twin Lords - their father had
thought it fitting. Upon hearing of a mare in a village deep in the
Misty Mountains that had delivered a rare set of twin foals, Elrond had
arranged for their purchase a number of years ago as a surprise for his
sons.  Each pair was well suited for one another – Elladan to Faeraug,
Elrohir to Naurdhelu – for the animals were fiery and willful, as were
their Elven handlers.  (twins)

“How much further, do you think?” Elladan asked, turning his head and
looking at his younger twin seated upon Naurdhelu’s broad back.

Elrohir chuckled.  “Mayhap two leagues less than the last time you
asked.  Are you that anxious, gwanunigen?” he chided.  (my twin)

“My arse hurts,” Elladan complained, squirming uncomfortably on
Faeraug’s back.

“When we get to town, I will kiss it all better,” Elrohir wiggled his
eyebrows suggestively.

Elladan laughed.  “I think not, tôren.  Remember your promise!”  (my
brother)

The younger twin looked skyward and vaguely to the West.  “May the Valar
help me… and you will most certainly not let me forget it, will you?” he
teased.

“Not a chance.”

“I did not think so.”

“’Ro?”

“Hmm?”

“I am hungry.”  

Elrohir chuckled.  “You are always hungry, El,” he said, but reached
behind him in his pack and fumbled a bit, finally turning up a slightly
crumbled packet of lembas.  He tossed it to Elladan, who eyed the
wrapping disagreeably.  

“Hmph.  I never thought I would tire of lembas, but ‘tis so.  Trail
rations get a mite dull after a while.”

Elladan nibbled at the waybread while they trotted through the sun-
dappled woods, chattering gaily about the festival they hoped to see.
Brushing the crumbs from his hands and wiping his mouth, he said
wistfully, “A good draught of mead would be appreciated right about
now.”  A mournful look crossed Elrohir’s face; the younger twin far
favored mead over the rich Imladrian wine the vintners of their homeland
made.

With an excited yell, Elrohir kicked Naurdhelu into a gallop.  Calling
out to his amused twin as he raced off, he cried, “What are we waiting
for then, tôr iaur?  Let us ride!”   (older brother)

Faeraug snorted and pranced, tossing his mane, itching to make chase
after his brother. Whooping, Elladan gave the beast his head, grimacing
slightly as the pounding gait of his mount chafed his tender backside,
and off they went in madcap pursuit, crashing through the undergrowth
toward the village, hollering wildly and laughing merrily, as carefree
as children.

*~*~* to be continued… *~*~*

Notes:

Ethuil = the Sindarin name for spring, the modern equivalent of which
would be March 29 – May 21 (according to The Encyclopedia of Arda)

Faeraug = “demon spirit”, Elladan’s horse (raug=demon, faer=spirit)
Naurdhelu = “fell fire”, Elrohir’s horse (delu= fell, naur=fire)
Wordplay on Hellfire and Damnation - perfect names for fiery horses of
spirited Elves.  Thanks to Orchyd Constyne for her help in translating
the beasties’ names.




Part 2 
~*~*~*~*~

The merry sounds of laughing children, the hearty shouts of Men, and the
happy laughter of maidens fair greeted the sons of Elrond as they rode
out of the woods and drew near to the village.  Slowing their horses to
a trot, they rounded a bend in the wooded trail, and suddenly there it
was.  

The village was a small one, only some hundreds strong, but decorated
gaily for the May Day festivities.  A wide, hard-packed dirt road split
the town roughly in two.  Down the center of the street were arranged a
number of shelters made of oiled cloth and hides, where merchants
displayed their wares.  On the west side of the street, set well behind
the buildings, was a gently sloped grassy hill, where the festivities
seemed to be centralized.

A towering pole, a Maypole, festooned with dozens of brightly colored
ribbons, was set in the exact center of the field.  Roped areas divided
the lower section of the field where children ran pell-mell, tossing
balls and sticks.  A number of ragged-looking but friendly mongrels ran
about, barking and stealing bits of food whenever their masters seemed
unaware. Many rough-hewn tables were placed in staggered rows around the
upper portion of the field, where cooking fires smoked and smoldered.
Finally, at the very crest of the hill, a massive bonfire was laid,
ready for dusk to fall.  The fire would be lit by the townsfolk at the
coming of night, to celebrate life, love, and fertility.

Elrohir remembered from his studies that while the residents of this
village were not Elf-friends, neither were they hostile.  The few Edhil
who passed through were treated well and fairly, if as something of  a
novelty.  So it was that the two tall Elf-lords rode confidently into
town, unafraid for their safety, but drawing a number of curious and
admiring stares.

The two identical beasts they rode upon were majestic creatures, with
dappled chestnut coats, glossy black manes and tails braided with gay
ribbons, without saddle or tack, yet the riders themselves were more
striking still.  Standing taller than all but the tallest of men, the
Peredhil twins were long of limb, well knit and muscular yet slender,
fair of face with gleaming black hair and keen grey eyes.  Virtually
identical to all but the most discerning eye, Elladan was only slightly
broader of shoulder than his twin, Elrohir a fraction taller.  The only
observable difference were several tiny braids dotted with crimson beads
in the raven locks of Elrohir - his twin wore his luxuriant mane loose
and flowing, spilling in lush waves down to the small of his back.

At the end of the street, the brethren dismounted and led their horses
at a walk through the settlement, gawking about with interest at the
tents.  Peering about at the painted signs hung from the building
fronts, Elladan spotted the one he was looking for down at the end of
the street.  A dark green sign emboldened with white letters, proudly
proclaiming “The Sleeping Cow”, hung over a wide porch, before a neat
three-story building.  Quirking a dark eyebrow at his twin, Elrohir
grinned at the unlikely moniker, and cast an amused eye at a stout Human
woman dozing in a rocking chair near the front door, seemingly oblivious
to the bustle of activity transpiring around her.

Murmuring quiet words to Naurdhelu and Faeraug begging their patience
and asking the beasts to stay put, the brethren ascended the steps and
strode toward the woman.  The clunking of their heavy boots on the worn
floorboards woke her from her light slumber, and she cracked an eye open
peering at the two tall strangers curiously, noting they were of the
fair folk.  She did not speak, unsure if the strangers would understand
her language.  

Elladan addressed the woman in accented, lyrical Westron, identifying
himself and his twin simply as travelers on their way to the Elven realm
Men called Rivendell, feeling it a bit presumptuous to use their proper
titles as lords among these simple folk.  The woman looked relieved upon
hearing the use of the common tongue, and launched immediately into a
friendly, if one-sided, dialogue about the village, the festival, the
weather, chilblains, and assorted various and sundry topics.  The
brethren listened tolerantly, truthfully following only a small fraction
of her rambling, hasty recitation, before the woman finally ended in a
breathless, “…and I suppose you’ll be needing rooms, then?” 

Elladan nodded and opened his mouth to speak, when the woman launched
into another seemingly random diatribe, the gist of which seemed to be
that there were stables behind the inn, there was only a single room
still available, and that if they wished, a bath could be accommodated;
however, because of the celebration, they would have to take their
evening meal at the festivities, because the kitchen staff was making
merry.

//Valar, I have not heard so much chatter since the night Arwen snuck
into Ada’s wine supply!// Elrohir thought wryly to his twin.  A wordless
chuckle from Elladan flowed through his mind, warming him all the way to
his toes, and he smiled sideways at his brother.

Speaking aloud, Elrohir confirmed the woman’s question.  “Aye, one room
is sufficient, madame.  We are used to sharing quarters.”  Elladan
attempted to conceal the snicker that burst forth from his mouth with a
strangled cough, and received a look of warning from the Elf-knight.

Oblivious to the subtle joke, the portly female nodded, and after
agreeing on a price for room and shelter for them and their animals, she
gave the Peredhil directions to the stable.

The brethren walked their horses to the stable and settled the beasts
in.  The barn was clean, comfortable and spacious, altogether to their
satisfaction.  Returning to the inn, Elladan handed the woman the
necessary coin, and she lumbered to her feet and led them up the stairs
and down the hall to a room at the end, prattling nonstop.  

The room was also clean and spacious, although certainly not luxurious
by any measure.  Still, it was far preferable to spending another night
on the cold, hard ground, no matter how modest the offerings.  To the
delight of the brethren, the room had an enormous window overlooking the
festivities, a large, comfortable-looking bed and a private bathing
chamber.  The woman apologized again for what she saw as lacking, but
the twins assured her it was satisfactory.  Before the woman excused
herself, Elladan asked to have hot water delivered if it was not too
much trouble, explaining they had been traveling for days and wished to
clean themselves before joining the revelry.  The woman agreed to have
water sent up directly and closed the door behind her as she left.

The second the door was closed, Elladan dropped his bag on the floor
near the door and whirled around.  Grabbing a startled Elrohir by the
arm, he took a quick step forward and pushed his twin back against the
wall, claiming Elrohir’s mouth in a fierce kiss when the Elf-knight
gasped in surprise.  

Reflexively Elrohir’s lips parted to accept his brother’s questing
tongue.  Warm, slick wetness curled in his mouth, and he shivered,
instantly aroused.  He sighed against Elladan’s mouth and wrapped his
arms around his twin's shoulders, kissing him back with equal ardor.  It
seemed days since they had touched each other, not mere hours, and he
feasted upon his brother as one long denied sustenance and suddenly
presented with a banquet.

Elladan growled low and deep in his throat, walking backward across the
floor, pulling Elrohir with him, never allowing their lips to part.
When the back of his thighs met the bed, he fell backward and pulled
Elrohir down on top of him.  With a quick movement he rolled them over
so he was straddling his twin’s hips.  Elladan’s shaft was hard and
straining within his breeches, and he flexed his hips, rubbing up and
down against the growing leather-encased bulge in Elrohir’s trousers.

“Gods, I can never get enough of you, ‘Ro,” he whispered against his
twin’s mouth.  “Can you feel how badly I want you?”  A moist pink tongue
traced the lines of Elrohir’s lip.  

“I watched you upon Naurdhelu’s back, with your legs wrapped around him,
and imagined you straddling me, riding me until we screamed.”  He nipped
at Elrohir’s sensitive earlobe and licked a wet trail up the translucent
shell before taking the tender tip within his mouth and flicking it with
his tongue.  “Your words of promise were all I could think of… I have
been hard and aching for hours, thinking of naught but sinking into your
luscious body.  I feared that woman would never stop talking so I could
throw you on this bed and have my wicked way with you.”

Shivers wracked Elrohir’s body, Elladan’s lusty proclamation sending
bolts of pure lust straight to his groin.  He whimpered, conflicted,
yearning for his brother’s touch upon his naked flesh, but knowing they
did not have time before they were interrupted.  Summoning restraint,
from he knew not where, the Elf-knight pushed against Elladan’s muscled
chest.  “We cannot, El, the bathing water will be delivered soon.” 

Elladan released his brother’s ear from his mouth and rolled over on his
back, throwing his arm dramatically over his eyes.  “Damn.  Damn, damn,
damn,” he groaned.  A fist slamming in frustration against the mattress
punctuated each word.  “Ever you are the voice of reason, gwanunigen.”
(my twin)

Elrohir lay beside his twin, panting heavily.  Finally he rolled on his
side and leaned down to kiss Elladan’s flushed cheek softly.  “Later,
tôr iaur,” he vowed.  “Would that we had more time, but I did give my
word, and I do not make promises in jest.”  (older brother)

At that moment, a knock sounded upon the door.  “Just a moment,” Elrohir
called in Westron.  He stood and pulled Elladan up with him, giving the
older twin a rueful look.  In a quiet voice that would not carry to the
door, he murmured, “Patience, beloved.  Let us wash quickly and go out
to the festival.  I expect most everyone will be at the bonfire tonight;
we shall have all the privacy we wish.”

Sighing, Elladan adjusted his breeches over the considerable swelling
between his legs and pulled his tunic down further.  “I expect you are
right, ‘Ro.  Still,” he sulked, “Can we not linger in the bath a while?”

“Meleth, you are incorrigible,” Elrohir rolled his eyes, tweaking his
twin’s nose playfully.  Another knock sounded, a bit louder, and he
called, “Coming!”  (love)

Elladan muttered under his breath, “Not bloody likely, at this rate.”

//I heard that,// Elrohir rebuked, opening the door to admit two sturdy
lads bearing steaming buckets of water.

~*~*~*~*~

Clean, dressed in fresh clothing, and ravenous, the brethren closed the
door to their room behind them and set out to check on their horses
before attending the festival.  The beasts had been fed, watered and
brushed, and seemed to be as happy as their Peredhil friends to be off
the road for a while.

A loud rumble emanating from Elladan’s belly provoked an amused chuckle
from Elrohir, and a sheepish look from the owner of said stomach.  “Are
you not glad now that we did not tarry longer, gwanunigen?” Elrohir
teased.  (my twin)

“No,” Elladan retorted, petulant.  “I would rather have feasted upon
loin of Peredhel,” he said, “but I suppose food will have to suffice.”

The Elf-knight laughed and pulled his twin toward the field where food
tents were erected.  The tantalizing aroma of roasted meats wafted on
the warm spring air, making their mouths water.  “Let us fill your belly
then, and mayhap later we can work on filling something else,” he
grinned, grey eyes twinkling with anticipation.  

Many an admiring glance was cast in their direction as the stately Elf-
lords strolled among the gathered townsfolk.  They were a somewhat
curious sight, but not an unwelcome one in this day of celebration and
revelry.  The quaint village welcomed the strangers with open arms, and
soon the brethren found themselves feeling quite comfortable and
chatting amiably with the townspeople.

For their part, the villagers found the twins fascinating, with their
Elven grace and charm.  Their faces were fair beyond the measure of Men,
with wisdom etched upon their brows.  Even when speaking in the rough
common tongue, the timbre of their clear voices lent a lyrical, poetic
tone to their words, and even the dourest matron felt the corners of her
mouth twitch in a smile of appreciation to hear them. 

Strolling together through the tents, the brethren paused here and
there, doling out a few coins in order to sample the delicious
foodstuffs for sale.  There was a roasted boar, slow-cooked in coals
overnight, its skin charred and crackling, falling away to reveal meat
so tender it fell from the bones.  A young boy, no more than seven in
the years of Men, turned a huge haunch of sizzling beef on a spit, the
fat popping and hissing as it dropped into the cooking fire.  Roasted
nuts still warm were sold in slips of parchment rolled into paper cones.
Elladan purchased a cone and shared the nuts with his twin while they
meandered about the center, licking salty fingers while deciding what
next to fill their rumbling bellies with.

Finally they settled on thinly sliced juicy beef, stuffed into small
loaves of bread.  Chunks of pungent cheese and a mug of ale for each
rounded out the meal.  Elrohir could not resist the delicious pastries
made of the last of the winter’s preserved fruit, sweetened with sugar
and honey, laced with fragrant spices and wrapped in a flaky crust.  He
moaned in delight over the apple tarts, one of his favorite treats since
childhood.  Elladan was partial to the rich, creamy dessert made of
smooth cheeses, cream, eggs and vanilla blended together, baked in a pan
and sliced thinly when cooled.

After they ate, the brethren strolled over the lower portion of the
field and watched with amusement the variety of games that had been
organized.  There were ball-throwing contests, a pie-eating competition,
and one odd game that appeared to consist of keeping a round hoop
rolling along the ground, using only a stick to push it.  Somehow, and
later neither was able to recall exactly how, they  were convinced to
enter a three-legged race.  A silent consultation with Elrohir convinced
Elladan to pair with one of the townsfolk instead of his twin; the
perfect synchronicity with which the Peredhil moved would give them a
definite unfair advantage.

//We must vow never to breathe a word of this to another, else we will
never live it down,// Elladan thought to his twin, grinning self-
consciously as the brethren allowed their legs to be bound to those of
two young Men, and wrapping their arms around each other, they were off,
hobbling madly.  Elrohir and his partner soon left their competitors far
behind, Elladan and his cohort having tangled together and fallen in an
untidy heap.  They lay sprawled in the grass, howling with laughter over
the ridiculous sight they must make.

After receiving first prize of a sprig of flowers tied in ribbon and a
shy kiss on the cheek from a pretty young Human girl, Elrohir politely
declined the offer of participating in further competition, and went to
rescue his twin who was still tangled with up with his Human partner.
He helped Elladan and the boy to their feet, then after bidding the
young Man a farewell and joyous spring, the Peredhil headed off toward
the center of the shopping area.

For hours the brethren wandered through the streets, browsing the
merchants’ stalls, chatting with the townsfolk, and nibbling on dainties
while shopping for gifts for their family.  Lustrous golden embroidery
thread was purchased for Arwen.  Elrond was to receive a beautifully
bound and hand-tooled leather journal.  Elrohir found a tiny throwing
dagger, its handle intricately carved with flowers and vines, a perfect
gift for Glorfindel.  One merchant found himself several silvers richer
– Elladan selected a luxurious quill with a mithril nib, complete with
leather case that he was sure Erestor would love.

The brethren took pleasure in shopping for the rest of their family, but
found the most enjoyment in selecting a gift for their naneth.  Elrond’s
private office was home to a collection of unusual gadgets and unique
toys.  It was assumed by most that the vast assortment belonged to the
Lord of Imladris.  It would have surprised them to learn it was the Lady
Celebrían who had a fascination with interesting gadgets, and that
Elrond loved to have his wife come and sit with him while he worked.
Thus the collection was stored where he spent most of his time, as a
subtle enticement to Celebrían.  

After a long while browsing and discussing what their naneth would like,
the brethren finally selected a small tube-like object which, when
sighted through a hole in the end, would send sunlight into sparking
bursts of rainbow-colored light.  The merchant called it a kaleidoscope.
He wrapped the object carefully and handed it over, and the brethren
moved on, grasping their precious bundles tightly.  

“Look, ‘Ro, over there!” Elladan nudged his twin, gesturing across the
street.  Elrohir followed his twin’s gaze toward a stall across the way,
where an elderly, dark-skinned Man looked to be drawing on the skin of a
much younger Man.  The young Man’s arms were heavily inked with
intricate designs.  “Come on, I want to take a closer look,” Elladan
urged, and dragged his brother by the arm across the street.  

Ink sketches on parchment covered the interior walls of the tent,
apparently the artisan’s designs.  Drawings whose subjects ranged from
animals to symbols, figures to plants, and everything in between were
pinned over virtual
glanced up when the brethren approached and nodded in greeting, and then
turned back to watch the artisan.  Not wanting to disturb the old Man,
the twins stood back against the walls and watched from a distance.

//That is fascinating, El.  I have heard of the Human custom of marking
the skin, but never thought to see it,// Elrohir thought.

//Neither did I.  I wonder how they decide which design to choose?//
Elladan thought back.

The artisan paused and looked up at the two tall strangers standing back
hesitantly.  “Do you know our speech?”

“Aye, we do,” Elladan confirmed.  

The dark-skinned Man’s face broke into a wide grin, revealing several
missing back teeth.  “You are curious… you may watch, if this young lad
does not mind.”  The younger Man looked up and nodded his acquiescence,
so Elladan eagerly moved forward and stood beside the table that
contained the artist’s supplies.  Elrohir stood beside his brother,
looking around with interest at the hundreds of drawings.

“Thank you, we would indeed like to watch,” Elladan said.  “We find this
custom fascinating.  It is not habitual among our kind to mark ourselves
in this manner.”

The twins stood observing silently while the elderly Man worked.  Every
so often he would dip a narrow metal tube into a small dish of ink.  The
tube was sharpened into a fine point on one end.  For all intents, it
looked remarkably similar to one of their sister’s  sewing needles, but
a bit thicker, and hollow.  The Man would dip the tube in the ink,
keeping one finger over the top to contain the ink by suction, then
force the end of the needle into the young Man’s flesh, driving the ink
permanently under the skin.  The process looked painful, for the young
Man’s flesh grew inflamed and red, but slowly a regal wolf’s head took
shape on the Man’s forearm.

Finally the design was complete and the artisan gently blotted the new
design dry, accepting a few coins from the younger Man, who thanked him
and disappeared out into the streets.  The danger of distraction over,
Elrohir asked, “What is this marking called in your tongue?  We do not
have a true name for it, but we would call it flâteithiol.”

“Flatay…” the Man attempted.

“Flâteithiol,” Elladan echoed patiently.  “Skin writing.  In our
language, flâd means skin, and teitha means to write.”

The Man laughed.  “Our word – tattoo – is much easier!”  The twins
chuckled and agreed.

The younger twin traced his finger over the lines of a drawing, admiring
the flowing lines of the beautifully rendered eagle traced on the
parchment.  “What do the – tattoos – mean?  How does one decide?”

The Man explained that most who marked their bodies selected designs
that had great meaning for them.  Some chose names to commemorate a
loved one, often the birth of a child or the loss of someone dear.  For
some, the markings represented a rite of passage, the growth from one
stage of life to another.  Yet others chose symbols that signified
something or someone that held great meaning for them.  Pictures and
symbols, while simple in themselves, became permanent mementos and held
highly personalized meanings for each who chose that symbol.

The light grew dim in the small tent as dusk drew near.  Elladan stood
listening with one ear, from the other side of the tent where he admired
a number of drawings, striking in their simplicity.  “What are these?”
he asked, shifting his bundle of packages to point a long finger at the
unembellished blackness of the shapes.

“Those are symbols of my people, from a land far in the south.  Each of
those symbols represents a proverb, an event, belief, or concept.”  The
old Man stood and groaned, massaging his sore knuckles, and rounded the
table, coming to stand next to the much taller Peredhel.  With gnarled
fingers, he pointed to one drawing, a central circle surrounded by four
other intertwined circles.  “This is ‘kuntenkanten’.  It is a warning
against ego.  One who wishes to remember humility will wear this symbol
on their clothing, or mark it on their body so they do not forget to
temper their pride.”

Elladan traced the delicate lines of one drawing wistfully.  “They are
beautiful,” he said.

“Yes, if for no other reason than their symbolism,” the Man agreed.
“Now if you will excuse me, I must clean up before I lose what little
daylight there is left.  It is too near time for the bonfire to be
receiving any further business today,” he said as he picked up the dish
of ink and carefully poured it into a waste bucket.  The brethren
thanked the Man and left him to clean up from the day’s trade.

As they walked back out into the street, Elrohir remarked, “We had best
find some food for the evening before the shops close.  The innkeep said
their kitchens would be closed tonight.”  Elladan grunted absently in
agreement.  

“What is it, tôren?”  Elrohir stopped and turned, realizing his brother
trailed behind, lost in thought.  “You are pensive.”  (my brother)

Without a word, Elladan held up a finger, motioning for Elrohir to wait.
He sprinted back to the tent where the artisan was pouring clear spirits
over the cleaned inking tubes.  A moment of conversation followed that
Elrohir could not hear, then Elladan pressed something into the old
Man’s hand.  The artisan smiled and nodded, and with a cheeky wave over
his shoulder, the Peredhel ran back to join his brother.

“What was that all about?” Elrohir asked curiously.

His brother practically burst with good humor, almost skipping as he
dragged Elrohir along with him toward the food tents.  “Hurry, tôr
dithen, we must get food quickly.  We must not be late.”  (little
brother)

“Late?” Elrohir queried.

Elladan grinned.  “Aye.  For, dear brother, that gentleman has just
received obscene amounts of coin to come to our room.  I, melethen, am
getting a tattoo.”  (my love)




Part 3
~*~*~*~*~

“You are WHAT?”  Elrohir stared into his brother's silver-grey eyes,
stopping dead in his tracks in the middle of the hard-packed street.  A
young couple following closely behind nearly ran them down, and the
younger twin smiled apologetically, moving aside to allow the villagers
to pass.

Elladan smirked and tugged on his brother’s arm.  “You heard me, tôr
dithen.  I am getting a tattoo, and I wish to eat something before there
is nothing left.  Now if it pleases you, come on!  I am hungry!”
(little brother)

The Elf-knight pulled away from his twin’s grip.  “You cannot be
serious, Elladan,” he said with amusement, shaking his head.  “I have
never heard of one of our kind marking himself in such a manner.”

“I am absolutely serious, ‘Ro,” Elladan retorted.  “First, how many of
*our* kind are there left?  At last count, four.  Arwen, Ada, and the
two of us.  The other few are either dead or have sailed West… well,
except for Ada’s adar, anyway.  I hardly think there is much precedent,
hmm?”

“You do have a point,” Elrohir conceded.  “And the second reason?”

Elladan’s face softened as he gazed at his brother.  “Let us walk, ‘Ro,
and return to the inn to eat, then I will give you the other reason.
Making spectacles of ourselves here in the middle of the street would be
unseemly.”  The younger twin nodded curiously and allowed Elladan to
lead him through the deepening gloom, toward the food tents.  

The excitement in the air was almost visible.  The nearing of dark and
the lighting of the bonfire drew nigh, and the townsfolk bustled about
in preparation.  In a haphazard pile near the fire mound, the rough-hewn
tables used for the day’s celebration were stacked, clearing the field
for the uninhibited and sometimes frenzied dancing as well as other,
more intimate pastimes.  At some point during the night, the tables
would be tossed on the fire as fuel to keep the flames lit throughout
the night.  

The brethren hurriedly wound their way through the throng of villagers
steadily flowing toward the open field, smiling and nodding to those
they had met during the day, but never stopping to engage in
conversation past a friendly word of greeting.  Little food was left,
but the two managed to obtain a whole roasted chicken and a few fruit
tarts.  

Laden with the bundles of gifts and their evening meal – which the cook
had thoughtfully wrapped in a thick layer of parchment, eager to close
up shop and join the festivities of the evening – the twins managed to
make their way through the gloaming, back to the inn, up the stairs and
to their room, stopping by the saloon attached to the inn to purchase a
bottle of wine and borrow a few glasses.

After arranging their small feast on the tiny table they had pulled in
front of the window, the brethren ate in the deepening shadows in
comfortable silence, watching the preparations for the bonfire and
occasionally licking their greasy fingers.  The excited chatter of the
townsfolk wafted through the open window, carried on the fragrant spring
breeze.

“No more stalling, brother,” Elrohir finally said, pushing back his
chair and stretching his legs.  He took a sip of wine and swirled it
about in his glass.  “What is reason number two?”

Elladan, sheepish, stood and plucked the glass from his brother’s hand,
setting it on the table before extending a hand to his twin.  Elrohir
accepted the hand and allowed Elladan to lead him over to the bed.
Elladan pushed his curious brother down to sit, before taking a seat
next to Elrohir.  He pulled him close, tenderly cupping the Elf-knight’s
face in his hand, meeting his twin’s concerned silver-grey gaze.  “I
know that you believe my desire to be a whim, but hear me out.  Reason
number two is simple.  I love you, ‘Ro, so much that sometimes it hurts.
You are my heart and my soul, and I could not live without you.”

Elrohir nodded faintly; all too well he understood his brother’s words,
for he felt the same.  He could not bear to be parted from the other
half of his soul for more than a few hours.  The rare occasions when one
of them was sent on day patrols with Glorfindel were sheer agony, and
when reunited, the gwanûn often barely made it back to their shared
suite before falling upon each other in heated desperation.  (twins)

Kissing his twin’s full lips tenderly, Elladan continued, “I wish I
could wear your ring on my finger, melethen, and give you my own, but I
cannot.  Though our souls are bound, we are not free to wear the tokens
of that bond as others do, in spite of our peoples’ acceptance of our
love.  For years I have dreamed of a way to show you how much I love
you.  Now I have found a way.”  He caressed the smooth cheek, and
Elrohir sighed and leaned further into his brother’s touch.  “If I
cannot wear your ring upon my finger, I will wear your mark upon my
body.”  (my love)

Moved beyond words, the Elf-knight could not respond.  Overcome by the
sincerity of his brother’s profession, he sat quietly, allowing the
warmth of Elladan’s love to wash over him.  It was palpable in the air,
shown by the elder twin’s arms wrapped around him so protectively and
the gentle mingling of their thoughts.

Elladan tipped his brother’s delicate chin and pressed their lips
together.  “Melin chen, Elrohir… always.”

“Melin chen, Elladan.  Forever,” the Elf-knight whispered.  “You do not
have to do this, El.”

“I want to, melethron.”  (my lover)

Elrohir leaned closer, resting his forehead against his twin’s, and
opened his thoughts freely.  Words were not adequate to express the
intensity of the bright, burning, all-consuming love he felt for his
brother, so he allowed the emotions he felt to flow through their
connection, and Elladan’s thoughts filled his mind in return.

The first sweet, loving kisses became passionate and urgent.  Tongues
dueled, languidly at first, but soon with more intensity.  The ever-
present passion, kept under tight restraint during the day, kindled into
a roaring inferno.  Little thought was given to the timing, or the
visitor who would soon arrive.  The only things that mattered were bared
skin and urgent touches.

Frantic, the brethren drew apart, panting, and tore each other’s tunics
off, throwing them to the floor.  Elladan shoved his twin backward on
the bed and straddled his chest, biting the tawny flesh of his brother’s
neck, sliding his swollen and painful arousal against Elrohir’s stomach.
“Oh gods, yes,” Elrohir tossed his head back, groaning, when his twin’s
lips clamped over his collarbone and suckled with ferocity.

Elrohir tweaked and pulled on Elladan’s erect nipples, making his elder
brother groan throatily.  Abandoning his hold on Elrohir’s pale neck,
Elladan licked up one side of the slender column and bit the tender lobe
of an ear.  The Elf-knight hissed and bucked up.  His struggles ceased
and he lay trembling when a husky voice whispered in his ear.  “I am
going to fuck you, Elrohir, so hard that you cannot walk tomorrow.”

Warm, strong hands trailed down over his flat belly and worked between
their heated bodies, pushing down the soft suede breeches, freeing his
swollen sex.  That sultry voice continued to sound seductively in his
mind.  //But that will wait until tonight, melethronen, for now I am
going to take you in my mouth and suck your cock until you spill in my
throat.//  (my lover)

//Oh yes…// the Elf-knight writhed under his brother’s assault, pumping
his hips to seek contact with something, anything.  He cried out when
his length was suddenly grasped in a firm grip.

“No, wait,” he rasped, and struggled away from Elladan’s grasp.  Sitting
up, he roughly pushed down Elladan’s breeches to his knees.  

The older twin hissed when his length bobbed free, dusky, and glistening
at the tip.  All day he had held his lust in check, and his limits were
sorely tried.  “Lie down,” he growled, sending a lusty image through
their connection.

Elrohir whimpered and turned lengthwise on the bed, his shaft hard and
curving up toward his belly.

“Hurry, El, we do not have much time.  I cannot wait another minute to
feel your mouth upon me,” the Elf-knight rasped.

Elladan struggled out of his breeches and kicked them aside impatiently,
lying down opposite his brother.  In one motion he engulfed Elrohir’s
cock, opening his throat and taking him all the way in to the root.  One
hand massaged the fleshy sac beneath, and the other stroked the satin
skin of his twin’s leg.  

Elrohir shuddered and pumped his hips into the wet heat of his brother’s
mouth.  Licking up and down the length of Elladan’s cock, swirling
around the head, and savoring the salty-sweet flavor, he took his time.
Already Elladan’s body was tense, his sac drawn up tight and snug, and
Elrohir knew it would take only a few strong sucks before Elladan spent
in his throat.  He held back in his ministrations, allowing his own
orgasm to build further, timing his own release with that of his twin.

Arms wrapped around Elladan’s hips, the Elf-knight drew his brother
closer, running his hands over the rounded globes, still teasing and
nibbling from the base, up along the thick veins pulsing along the
shaft, and up to the leaking tip.  Only occasionally did he take the
rounded crown into his mouth, and then only to lick teasingly with the
flat of his tongue.  Elladan whimpered and writhed against him.  No one
surpassed the Elf-knight’s oral talents.

Pulling his mouth slightly away from Elladan’s pulsing length, Elrohir
wet his finger and parted the velvet mounds of his twin’s backside,
stroking the cleft between with the moist digit.  Circling the wrinkled
flesh, the swollen tissue twitched under his touch, and felt Elladan’s
harsh intake of breath around his member as the tender flesh was
brushed.  //Valar, El, I am so sorry!  I did not realize you were hurt
that badly!//

//’Tis all right, tôren, I did not mind at the time.  You will be
equally sore tomorrow.  Now stop teasing and finish me,// came the
fragmented reply, bits of words bleeding through as the elder twin
trembled on the brink of orgasm.  (my brother)

Elrohir obliged; he hollowed his cheeks and sucked vigorously, bobbing
his head upon the rigid length.  One… two… three… and Elladan groaned
around the pulsing cock in his mouth, shuddering as he spent in hot jets
down the Elf-knight's throat.  Elrohir stiffened and arched, his member
deep in Elladan’s throat, and swallowed reflexively around his twin’s
cock with practiced ease, even while flooding Elladan’s mouth with his
own seed.

Tremors ran through them, gradually fading as the aftershocks of orgasm
slowed and finally subsided.  Elrohir allowed his brother’s softening
length to slip from between his lips and pushed back, attempting to sit
up.  Elladan kissed the tip of the plump, moist shaft and pulled away.
“By the fiery pits of Morgoth, Elrohir, you wish to kill me, do you
not?”  Elladan panted.

Elrohir snorted inelegantly.  “By the way you were sucking, I thought it
was *you* who was trying to kill *me*, brother!”

“Come, we must dress before we are caught with our pants down,” Elladan
said, standing shakily.  He leaned over to kiss the Elf-knight quickly,
drawing Elrohir’s tongue briefly into his mouth, teasing the slick
muscle so that their flavors mingled.

Elrohir looked balefully at his naked twin.  “One of us, anyway,” he
teased.  Standing, he pulled his leggings back up, tucking his spent
flesh back into the soft suede breeches.  He tossed Elladan’s tangled
clothing back to him and picked up his own shirt, beginning to struggle
into it.  His voice muffled by the fabric over his head, the Elf-knight
said, “Go get dressed, pen vara, and I will clean up and straighten the
bed.” (eager one)

Leaving the tunic loose and untucked, Elrohir moved swiftly about the
room, clearing the small table of the remains of their dinner and
tossing the scraps into the waste bin, then straightening the rumpled
bedclothes.  He had finished lighting all the oil lamps, and poured
another glass of wine for the two of them when the expected knock upon
the door came just as Elladan left the bathing chamber, tucking his
tunic in.  

Elladan gave a wolfish whistle at his twin, seeing Elrohir’s lightly
muscled chest peeking through the deep V of his half-buttoned shirt.
“Button up, gwanunigen, or I will send the artisan away and ravage you
all over again.”  Elrohir guffawed and gave a saucy wink over his
shoulder as he strode to the door and opened it, admitting the tiny,
dark Man, laden with a large bag.  (my twin)

The Man looked from one twin to the other, obviously perplexed by which
of the tall strangers he should be addressing.  Elrohir smiled
understandingly – it was not to be wondered at that a complete stranger
could not tell them apart, when even those of their homeland often had
difficulties still.  “I am Elrohir.  Yon impetuous one is whom you seek.
He is Elladan.”

The Man looked relieved, noticing the bright beads woven through the
braids of Elrohir’s hair.  “I am called Kofi,” he said.  “Shall we get
started?”

~*~*~*~*~

“That one,” Elladan pointed to one of the sketches spread out around
him.  He sat cross-legged in the center of the bed next to Elrohir,
poring eagerly over the drawings.  He picked it up and took a closer
look, admiring the clean lines of the shape:  it resembled the tails of
two fish, one atop the other in reverse direction, what would be the
heads ending in delicately looped spirals.  “What is that called, and
what is its meaning?”


The old man nodded sagely.  “That is ‘gyawu atiko’; it is a symbol for
valor, respect and leadership, fitting for one who is in command, both
of others and of themselves.”

Elladan looked to his twin, a wide grin upon his face.  In Elvish he
addressed Elrohir, “It is perfect, tôren.  You are valiant and
courageous; your composure will make you a great leader when someday
Glorfindel sails West.  That is the mark I wish to wear as my token for
you.”  A slight pinkish blush tinged the Elf-knight’s cheeks, but he
smiled, pleased, and nodded.

After showing the Man his choice, Elladan thought on where to have the
marking placed while Kofi began laying out the items he had brought with
him.  He did not necessarily want the flâteithiol to be easily seen when
he sparred shirtless.  This was a private matter between the gwanûn, and
Elladan desired to have the mark on display only when in a more intimate
setting.  Having it exposed while hot and sweaty, grappling with a
fellow warrior in the pit was unacceptable; having it exposed while
sweaty and hot, writhing with his brother in passionate surrender was
deemed acceptable – nay, was most actively encouraged.  Silently he
consulted with Elrohir on the placement, and after ruling out a few more
conspicuous spots, finally nodded imperceptibly.

Meanwhile, the artisan had dragged the small table toward the bed and
arranged a lamp nearby, illuminating the bed brightly, and had laid out
the implements of his trade.  A soft towel, a small dish filled with the
blackest of inks, a hollowed needle, and a small-bristled paintbrush,
along with a few smaller scraps of cloth, and a bottle of clear spirits
used to cleanse the skin before beginning were laid neatly on the table
within easy reach.  In his accented Westron, the Man asked Elladan where
he should begin.  Elladan lay on his back, his twin crouched next to him
at his side, and un-tucked his shirt.  Pushing down the waist of his
breeches on the right side, he pointed to an area just above and to the
left of his hipbone, between the small hollow and the indentation of his
navel.

Kofi studied the flat expanse of skin, pleased with the unusually smooth
canvas he had to work with and nodded, deeming the spot satisfactory.
Impassively he pulled a sheet toward him and pushed Elladan’s breeches
further down, using the linen to modestly cover the Peredhel’s groin,
before pouring some clear spirits on the scrap of cloth and swabbing the
skin thoroughly.  Dipping the tiny brush in ink, he hastily traced the
outline of the marking upon Elladan’s flesh, squinting and turning his
head this way and that, adding a sweep here and a stroke there, until he
was satisfied with the symmetry and placement.  Elladan craned his neck
in order to see the delicate brushwork draft the design that would soon
become a permanent part of him and signify his devotion to his brother.

Picking up the small bottle again, the Man poured more spirits over his
hands to clean them, then picked up the hollow tube and trickled more
clear liquid over it.  He dipped the cleaned needle in the bowl of black
fluid, grasping it between his thumb and middle finger, sealing the ink
in the tube with his forefinger.  Looking questioningly at the Peredhel
spread out before him, he lowered the tip of the tube and hovered just
above the painted flesh.  “Are you ready?  This will not be comfortable,
but you must remain absolutely still or you will ruin the design.”  

Elladan took a deep breath and nodded, and Kofi began.  At the first jab
of the needle into his skin, the Peredhel hissed and flinched away from
the sting.  The elderly artisan immediately pulled the needle away.  

Elladan flushed crimson.  He was a seasoned warrior, for Elbereth’s
sake; he had taken arrows, knife cuts, blows from a sword that would
sent a mortal man to his grave.  Broken bones and nosebleeds were common
in his youth, the result of many childish pranks, yet he jumped in pain
away from a tiny needle – a needle *he* had encouraged.

Elrohir begged a few moments’ reprieve.  Nodding, Kofi sat up and leaned
back in his chair, watching the exchange between the dark-haired Elvish
folk.  The Man did not understand the spoken words, but it was obvious
from the tone and the way the brethren interacted that their
relationship was exceedingly close.  How close, he wondered?  The
intimacy between them – their bent heads and tender touches – implied a
relationship closer than usual, even between the closest of siblings.
Oddly, he reflected, this was not disturbing to him.  Perhaps it was
simply that the Elvish folk were so different than the race of Men –
they seemed almost ethereal in their grace and beauty.  Not effeminate,
exactly, for their slender limbs spoke of great strength, and the
beardless features, while finely sculpted, were clearly masculine.
Perhaps, too, as an artist, he was accustomed to appraising beauty for
its own sake.  Rarely had the Man been blessed with such a flawless
canvas upon which to work, and he was thankful for the opportunity.

The Elf-knight spoke quietly to his brother, calming him.  Elrohir’s
healer’s instinct took over, and he soothed his twin using much the same
method their adar did when gentling a spirited colt or a nervous
patient.  He spoke softly in the Elvish tongue, encouraging Elladan to
breath slowly and deeply, to focus on measuring his breaths.  Kofi
watched in awe as the elder Peredhel’s breathing slowed and his eyes
drooped as he slipped into a meditative state.  Elrohir nodded to the
artisan, signaling him to proceed.

The Elf-knight continued to speak softly to his twin, assuring him of
his love, stroking his hair gently.  Occasionally Elrohir glanced down
from his position next to Elladan to the revealed spot upon his
brother’s belly, watching in fascination as the design took shape before
his very eyes.  A few strokes of the needle, withdraw, dip, a few more
strokes, a swift blotting with a soft cloth.  Elrohir’s voice never
wavered, nor did the tender strokes administered to the raven silk of
Elladan’s hair.

The skin around the marking grew angry and red, yet Elladan’s breathing
remained deep and even, his eyes closing peacefully as he was lulled by
his brother’s soothing words.  The gentle touch of his brother’s hand
upon his brow mingled with the sweet tones of Elrohir’s voice induced a
deep, almost hypnotic trance.  

Elladan was roused some time later by Elrohir’s lyrical voice changing
timbre, and he realized with astonishment that his brother was speaking
to him normally.  “It is over, seron vell.  Would you like to see it?”
Opening his eyes, the elder twin blinked against the sudden blinding
light and shook his head to clear it.  It seemed mere moments since
feeling the sharp point of the needle against his skin.  The initial
pain had receded as he drifted into a trance-like state, and now gave
way to a burning, itching sensation, not painful, precisely, but
slightly uncomfortable and warm.  (beloved)

“Aye, I would,” Elladan said, feeling slightly disoriented and dizzy as
he struggling to sit.  The Elf-knight assisted him, while Kofi began
cleaning up his supplies.  He pushed the sheet back and pulled up the
waist of his breeches a bit higher, preserving his modesty in front of
the old Man, and knelt on the bed.  He gasped when he took in the stark,
black mark etched into the otherwise ivory skin just above his groin.

“What is the matter, tôren?”  Elrohir queried fretfully, touching his
twin’s shoulder with concern.  “Is it not what you expected?”

“It is – “ Elladan gulped, while Elrohir waited anxiously.  “Beautiful,”
he breathed at lasts, the word rushing from his mouth.

//How does it look, gwanunigen?// Elladan’s nervous thought brushed his
twin’s mind.  //Truly?  What do you think?//  (my twin)

//It is breathtaking, melethen, truly.  It is the most wonderful thing
you have ever done for me,// came Elrohir’s reassuring response,
caressing his mind like the gentle touch of a lover.  (my love)

It was with stunned amazement that Elladan heard his brother offer two
more gold coins to Kofi, asking that the artisan mark him as well.



Part 4
~*~*~*~*~

So it was that a short while later, Elrohir had taken up his brother’s
place on the bed.  The elderly artisan had waited patiently while the
brethren argued in their strange language.  One brother had already
given him a large amount of money, and now the second one offered two
gold pieces – more than Kofi had made in the entire day at the festival!
– to mark him as well.  For that kind of coin, the artist thought, he
would wait as long as they wanted.
 
“It is not necessary, tôr dithen,” Elladan had protested.  “You do not
need to do this simply because I did.”  (little brother)

“I know it is not necessary, but this is something I wish to do, El,”
the Elf-knight retorted.  

Finally the Elf-knight had smiled triumphantly and turned to the Man,
switching to the common tongue.  “He never could best me in an
argument,” he grinned, throwing Elladan a sly wink.  “Shall we proceed?”

Picking up his small paintbrush and dipping it into a new dish of ink
for the second time that evening, Kofi prepared to sketch the design
Elrohir had requested, in the same spot he had marked the Elf’s brother.
As he drew near to the skin, however, Elrohir bade him stop.  Elladan’s
piercing grey gaze lit upon his twin curiously, and the Elf-knight
smiled apologetically at the Man before rising and reversing his
position, baring the opposite side of his stomach.

//We are mirror images of one another, are we not?”//

//Aye, that we are, ‘Ro,// Elladan agreed.

Patiently the Man again dampened a cloth with spirits and swabbed the
newly exposed flesh of Elrohir’s abdomen, before finally beginning the
outline.  The Elf-knight flinched involuntarily against the cool, wet
lick of the brush.  

//It feels odd.//

//Aye, it does.  Close your eyes, tôren,// Elladan instructed, and the
younger twin obeyed, his dark lashes fluttering shut over pale cheeks.

Elrohir relaxed fully under his brother’s soothing attention, and
Elladan gave a discreet nod to the artisan to begin. As he focused only
on the lyrical voice of his beloved, the initial burning fire of the
needle working the younger twin’s flesh receded to a dull, steady
throbbing, the pain swept away by soothing words and images.

Stroking gentle fingers over his twin’s temples, Elladan began to hum
softly.  It was a silly, but much loved song of their childhood, a song
Celebrían would sing to them while the brethren were wee children.
Curled up in her lap, they would nestle their heads against her breast
and twine their feet together across her lap while she sang.  In later
years, the gwanûn would sing the same tune to baby Arwen when she
fussed, making her dissolve into peals of childish laughter.


I have a dog his name is Rags;

He eats so much his tummy sags,

His ears flip flop his tail wig wags

And when he walks, he walks zig zag



He goes flip flop, wig wag, zig zag;

He goes flip flop, wig wag, zig zag;

He goes flip flop, wig wag, zig zag;

I love Rags and he loves me!




//I still love that song,// came Elrohir’s wistful thought.

//Aye, it brings back memories, does it not?//

//Do you remember the time Naneth fell in the Bruinen, El?//

//She would not have fallen in if you had not jumped out from the bushes
and frightened her, gwanunigen!//  (my twin)

//There was an animal in that bush, I swear!  I did not know she was
standing so close to the riverbank.//

//Aye, a ferocious Peredhel named Elrohir, with vicious fangs bared,
hmm?//

//Elladan, I did not do that on purpose.  Just because I never actually
saw the animal does not mean it was not there!//

//Whatever you say, tôr dithen,// Elladan smiled indulgently.  (little
brother)

Elladan strove to distract his twin from the discomfort of the marking.
He possessed not the full healer’s touch of the Elf-knight, so did what
he thought most effectual within his ability – pulled forth fond
memories of their youth, sharing times of love and joy spent with family
and friends.  More than images, they seemed rather living dreams, the
collective memories so vivid, so full of color, and scents and sounds,
that it seemed the brethren were reliving them at that moment.  

** Snow fights and scalding hot cocoa shared around a wintry bonfire,
stoic Erestor gasping and shrieking with indignity when Glorfindel
laughingly stuffed a handful of snow down the front of the advisor’s
heavy winter cloak

** The earliest memories of Elrond and Celebrían sharing loving kisses
while teaching their young twins to swim in the fresh, crisp water of
the Bruinen

** Sneaking out of the Last Homely House on Yule-tide eve, hand in hand,
to make love in the gazebo, wrapped in heavy warm furs while the snow
fell thickly to the ground 

** Being awe-struck at the miracle of life when Celebrían placed a tiny,
wrinkled newborn girl-child in their arms, marveling over the wisps of
ebony hair and the somber silver-grey eyes that gazed seriously back at
them from a face that seemed a miniature of theirs, and vowing to
protect their baby sister from harm with the last breath in their bodies

** The pride that swelled in Elladan’s chest when his brother took first
prize in their first archery competition, Elrohir soundly trouncing the
other contenders, all many centuries his senior

  ~*~*~*~*~

Standing in front of the open window, the chill Ethuil night breeze
carrying the sounds of laughter and merry-making from the townsfolk
below, Elladan reached blindly for his brother’s hand, and Elrohir
grasped the searching hand tightly in his own.  Full darkness had come,
and Ithil hung fat and low in the sky.  A bonfire roared and crackled in
the distance, sending soaring towers of sparks to the stars above when a
burly Man tossed on more fuel.

If one of those villagers had happened to pull his gaze from the
dazzlingly bright clearing and look up toward the window, he would have
seen two tall, slender figures standing hand in hand, backlit by faintly
glowing oil lamps that rendered them in silhouette.  If he were to watch
a bit longer, he would have seen one gently pull the other away from the
window, letting the draperies flutter shut behind them.

Elladan tugged his brother’s hand and led him toward the bed.  “I want
to see it, tôren,” he said breathlessly.

“We should bandage these as Kofi instructed,” Elrohir protested half-
heartedly.  Now that the deed was done, he was quiet, seemingly shy, and
almost reluctant to face his twin.

“Later…”

Blushing faintly, the Elf-knight carefully pushed the band of his
trousers down, avoiding brushing the tender, inflamed flesh, and lifted
the soft fabric of his shirt, baring the flat expanse of his stomach.
“Nay, all the way off, tôren,” Elladan admonished, raising a dark
eyebrow.

Self-consciously the Elf-knight turned away slightly, pulling off his
loose tunic, but Elladan grasped his twin’s elbow and turned him to face
each other.  “Do not turn away, melethen,” he scolded gently.  “Do not
be shy.”  Stealthy hands unfastened Elrohir’s waistband and the trousers
fell to the floor.  (my love)

Hesitantly Elrohir turned and raised his eyes to meet his brother’s
expectant gaze, and a small gasp escaped the elder twin’s mouth.  He had
*seen* the flâteithiol being worked, but he was unprepared for the
impact that black mark made, standing out so starkly against the pale
expanse of Elrohir’s marble flesh.

Etched into the otherwise flawless skin of the Elf-knight’s left hip was
a delicate fern frond – the ‘aya’ – the symbol he had chosen to
exemplify his elder brother.  The ‘aya’, the artisan had explained,
represented determination, defiance and independence, and Elrohir had
known instantly he needed look no further.  The heir of Imladris was
unconventional, fearless and impulsive, first into battle, mercurial and
often brash, his loyalty to those he held dear unquestioned and
unswaying – everything typified by the symbol now incised into Elrohir’s
flesh.

Elladan dropped to his knees, drawing his twin close.  “It is
beautiful,” he breathed, pressing a tender kiss to the smooth skin
beside the mark.  At the touch of his brother’s pliant, full lips upon
his flesh, the Elf-knight’s knees went weak, and he pulled away
unsteadily and lay down on the bed, dangerously close to collapse.  The
emotional charge from the evening had subsided, and he felt woozy.  He
reached a hand to his brother and drew Elladan down to him, catching a
fistful of the elder twin’s hair and bringing it to his face, nestling
into the silken strands as he closed his eyes, waiting for the mild
vertigo to pass.

Discarding both shirt and leggings haphazardly on the floor, Elladan lay
down full-length facing the younger Peredhel, enfolding Elrohir in his
arms protectively.  Impossible it would have been to discern them one
from the other, mirror images that they were, but for the crimson beads
and the markings.  “Are you well, ‘Ro?” the elder twin questioned
worriedly.

“Aye, 'twas just a bit of dizziness, but it has passed now,” Elrohir
reassured his brother, breathing deeply of the reassuring scent of his
twin.

Elladan leaned forward and kissed his lover's warm lips tenderly.
“Good.  Melin chen, Elrohir… always.”  Smoothing the velvet-soft skin of
his twin’s rounded hip, he captured his brother’s lower lip between his
teeth, nipping gently.  

A hand strayed to smooth the raven length of Elladan’s hair, and Elrohir
rested his forehead against his brother’s.  “Melin chen, Elladan.
Forever.”

Elladan kissed his brother hungrily, needily.  His lips teased and
tasted the sweet flavor of the Elf-knight's mouth, a slick wet tongue
slipping forward to coax its mate out to play.  Elrohir opened eagerly,
the raw hunger in the kiss sweeping him rapidly down the path of desire.

Elladan teased the ivory column of his brother’s neck, pressing tiny
butterfly kisses from the hollow just under his ear to the sensitive
crease of his neck.  Elrohir whimpered slightly.  “Mmm," he breathed
softly.  “That feels so good…”

Moving a bit lower, the elder twin nipped playfully along the ridge of
the collarbone, first biting then laving the sting with his tongue.
“How about this?” he whispered seductively.

“Ahh, yes,” Elrohir agreed, tipping his head to allow the roving tongue
better access to his collarbone.

“Yes, what?” Elladan murmured against his twin’s neck.  The deeply
purpled mark he had left earlier beckoned; he opened his mouth widely,
suckling the already bruised flesh into his mouth.  Elrohir arched
against his brother, whimpering wordlessly as the already sensitive skin
was tugged and pulled.

“What ails you, tôren?  Cat has your tongue?” Elladan teased, pulling
away and dipping his head, latching on to a dusky rose-colored nipple.
He drew it into his mouth firmly, feeling it harden and pebble under his
tongue, and Elrohir let out a tiny whimper as the pointed nub was
worried between strong white teeth. 

The Elf-knight moaned softly, running the flat of his palm over the
smooth muscles of his twin’s strong back.  “Gods, you are so beautiful,
El.”

Elladan merely grunted, too involved in suckling the ripe flesh to
bother releasing his prize and give a proper response or return the
compliment in kind.

Dipping lower, Elladan licked a warm, wet trail from one peaked nipple
to the other, and down the breastbone to Elrohir’s navel.  As he plunged
his tongue into that tiny dimple, Elrohir arched into his touch.  “Mmm,
yes,” he breathed.

Elladan blew warm, moist air over the flâteithiol, and Elrohir shivered
at the sensation, the warm breath soothing the inflamed flesh.

Elrohir was fully erect, his length snug against his belly.  Elladan
carefully avoided the pulsing shaft and nestled deeply between his
twin’s legs.  Each velvet pouch was drawn in turn into his warm, wet,
mouth and he sucked gently on the tender flesh.  Elrohir hissed and
arched his back into the slippery heat, fingers tangled in the mass of
his twin’s hair.
 
The thick vein underneath the younger twin’s shaft pulsed with each
beating of Elrohir’s heart.  Elladan pulled away and ran the tip of his
tongue firmly up the throbbing length.   He slid sinuously up the
writhing body, catching Elrohir’s leg with one of his own and spreading
his brother's legs apart.  One strong, warm hand reached down to grasp
the silken shaft of the Elf-knight, drawing a whimper when the hand
began pumping slowly.  Elrohir buried his face in his twin’s neck and
suckled, drawing blood to the surface and leaving a bright red passion
mark on the milky flesh while his hips rocked into Elladan’s grasp.

“I want you, my brother.”  Elladan’s breath was hot and moist against
his brother’s delicate ear, the words whispered low and sultry while his
hand worked its magic on Elrohir’s arousal.

Raising his knees and allowing them to fall to the sides, spreading
himself for his brother, Elrohir breathed, “I am yours… have me,
melethron.”  (lover)

“I fully intend to, tôren,” Elladan whispered.  The heady scent of sage
and lemongrass filled the room, and Elrohir laughed quietly at his
brother’s stealth, understanding that Elladan had surreptitiously hidden
the vial of oil under the pillow in anticipation of the Elf-knight’s
promise of that morning.  (my brother)

Elladan slicked his fingers well and knelt between his lover’s bent
knees.  Drawing the pad of a bow-roughened finger gently over the
puckered flesh, he waited the barest of moments for the ‘wink’ – that
minute contraction of the puckered opening before it relaxed – and he
slipped inside.

Moaning slightly, Elrohir parted his thighs further in welcome.  A
second finger was added, probing and stretching gently, and the Elf-
knight began to moan, flexing his hips.  “Oh yes, that feels so good,”
he groaned, while the tiny nub inside was stroked firmly and without
mercy.  White heat spread through his loins, and he bore down eagerly
against his twin’s hand.  

Elladan withdrew from the tight passage, and the cause of Elrohir’s
whimper was twofold - frustration over the loss, and eagerness at what
would soon replace those fingers.  Raising himself, the younger twin
reached for the oil and poured a trickle into the palm of one hand, then
smoothed the oil onto his brother's hard flesh.  Elladan swore softly
and thrust wildly into the firm, slick grip, moaning, “Sweet Eru…”

“Have me, faeren.”  (my soul)

“I would grovel at your feet, begging for scraps like a mongrel, for the
taste of your lips on mine,” Elladan growled, lifting the Elf-knight’s
legs and resting them on his shoulders.

Poised at the slick entrance, eyes closed in blissful anticipation of
sinking fully into the glorious heat of his brother’s body, Elladan
pressed forward, just breaching the guardian ring, when almost inaudible
whimpers broke through his lust-haze.  Opening his eyes, he looked down
at the Elf-knight and saw with dismay that his twin’s lips were tightly
clenched and his eyes were closed, a slight grimace marring Elrohir’s
beautiful features.  “’Ro, what is it?” Elladan asked, concerned.

“It stings,” Elrohir admitted, sheepishly meeting his twin’s dark eyes.
“The marking, I mean.”

“Aiya, I am sorry, tôren!” Elladan exclaimed apologetically, pulling
carefully out of his lover’s body with a wet ‘pop’ and lowering the Elf-
knight’s legs to the bed.  “Mine is tender as well, but I did not think
when I moved your legs like that.”  With concern, he bent down and
examined the raw flesh of his twin’s hip, which thankfully did not
bleed, but wept clear fluid.  “You are probably right; we really should
tend to these, but I cannot wait any longer.”

Elrohir wriggled out from under his brother and turned over, rising to
his hands and knees.  “Neither can I,” he tossed over his shoulder, and
wriggled his bottom enticingly.  “Eagerly I have waited, too, for as
much enjoyment as I receive when I sink into your beautiful body and
bring you pleasure, so do I love the feeling of you inside me.  As in
now.”

Growling playfully, Elladan knelt behind his twin and grasped his own
arousal, guiding the hard flesh back toward the glorious heat waiting
for him.  “Now, where were we?”  With one steady, slow push, he again
breeched the guardian ring, slick with oil, and was sheathed in the
blessed, hot depths of his lover – his soul.

Elrohir keened softly, his hands fisting the sheets tightly when the
silken shaft pierced him.  It had been a while since his brother had
taken him, and it took a few moments for the discomfort to cease.
Halfway embedded, Elladan held still, trembling, his eyes clenched
tightly shut until the snug channel loosed slightly.  Then he began to
move in slow, shallow thrusts.

Dropping to his elbows, the Elf-knight clenched his eyes tightly and
held motionless, savoring the sensation of being so thoroughly filled.
The minor pain had ceased, and each tiny motion of Elladan’s rod brushed
the hidden gland inside his passage, causing his blood to boil.  He
panted softly, willing the tiny first flickers of orgasm down deep,
wanting this glorious feeling to never end.

Shifting position slightly, Elladan angled directly for the Elf-knight’s
prostate and drove home deeply, then let out a harsh, strangled gasp as
a burning fire shot across his abdomen.  “Son of an Orc…” he cursed,
reluctantly pulling out of a distressed Elrohir, who lifted his face off
the bed and craned his neck to look back over his shoulder at the elder
twin.

“I told you we should have done this during our bath, tôren,” Elladan
lamented, gazing down at the inflamed flesh of his stomach.  “It seems
every position we attempt puts pressure on either you or me.  I did not
stop to think of this trouble when deciding where to put your mark.” 

Elrohir chuckled hoarsely and sat up, pushing his twin back down in his
place and rolling him onto his back.  “I am sure we will manage
somehow,” he purred, stretching out upon Elladan’s lean form.  “Lie
back, El – you wanted me, and so you shall have me,” he smiled
wolfishly.  

Leaning down, the Elf-knight kissed the black marking, then reached for
the vial of oil, again slicking Elladan’s length.  The elder twin looked
amused and somewhat curious, but closed his eyes in bliss when Elrohir
straddled his hips and held the pulsing shaft at the entrance to his
body.

“Is this what you want?” Elrohir whispered seductively, rubbing the
fleshy tip of his brother’s arousal over the loosened ring of his
passage.

“Valar, yes…” 

“Tell me what you want, my brother.”

Elladan was on fire – burning, consuming, raging fire.  Every nerve
ending in his body screamed out for his brother.  “DO it, by Morgoth’s
fires.  Stop teasing!”  Pumping his hips, he thrust wildly in a vain
attempt to enfold himself in the moist heat of his twin’s luscious form.

Elrohir only pulled back slightly and shook his head, tutting under his
breath.  “Not until you tell me what it is you desire.”

“If you do not stop talking and ride me right now, Elrohir, I swear by
all I hold dear I will tie you down and do it myself, and to Mandos with
your damned flâteithiol.  Now DO IT, or I will find another use for that
delectable mouth of yours,” Elladan snapped between gritted teeth.

“As you wish,” the Elf-knight acquiesced.  Already slick and loose,
Elrohir took the swollen flesh within his passage, sinking completely
down to the root with a groan of satisfaction.  “Ai, gods El, you feel
so good inside me,” the Elf-knight moaned, beginning to move up and down
on his brother’s arousal.  Flushed, his breathing quickened when he
changed the angle slightly, brushing his prostate with every movement.
Elladan’s hand steadily fisted his brother’s arousal, slicking the
pearly drops that wept steadily up and around the blunt head, slicking
the satiny shaft.

//Look at me,// Elladan demanded.

Through the heavy lust-haze threatening to strip away the last threads
of sanity, Elrohir forced open his eyes and gazed down upon his lover.
Elladan’s keen eyes were black as night, the pupils dilated hugely in
his passion.

//I want to see your face and look into your eyes when you find your
release.//

The words curled sultrily through Elrohir’s mind.  The warm, slick,
strong hand encircling the Elf-knight’s shaft stroked slowly,
deliberately, its pace maddening in obdurate refusal to hurry.  

“Oh… I am… El… please…” Elrohir whimpered, pleading, sounds he did not
recognize spilling from his mouth.  

“Please, what?”  Rough, trembling and harsh with need.

“Love me,” Elrohir cried, his body bowed, coiled tightly, hovering on
the edge of release.  

//Let go, ‘Ro… come with me.  Do not hold back.//

Centuries ago when they first became lovers, the violence with which
their spirit merged left them shaken and sobbing in each other’s arms,
overwhelmed with sensation.  Over time the brethren had learned to exert
some control over their joinings, channeling some of the psychic power
to the physical.  Thus even their most hasty couplings rivaled the
shaking of the foundations of Arda, and left the gwanûn spent, yet semi
coherent.  (twins)

Now that control was stripped away, and as bodily they joined, so did
their faer – two halves of a whole, united as the Valar intended.  Body
arched tightly, Elrohir rammed down again and again on the heavy column,
buttocks slamming against Elladan’s hipbones.  Shrieking, he spurted
thick jets of his essence over his brother’s pumping fist as he reached
orgasm.  

Elladan cried out his brother’s name, bucking wildly into scorching heat
when the tight ring of the Elf-knight’s channel clamped down on his
length.  He strained upwards, emptying himself in hot bursts into the
shuddering body, fighting to keep eye contact with his twin.

Elrohir swayed, passage and shaft still pulsing with release.  Tears
shone in his eyes, hugely dilated, framing them with sparkling mithril.
Oblivious to the pain in their hips, Elladan pulled his brother down to
him and claimed his mouth in a heated kiss, savoring the salty tears and
his twin's own sweet taste, sobbing softly.

They lay still joined, entwined together, gradually calming from the
storm of passion.  Elrohir lifted his head and breathed deeply, slowly
gathering his emotions under control.  Nuzzling the Elf-knight’s damp,
flushed cheek, Elladan turned his head and searched his twin’s silvery-
grey eyes, now darkened to almost ebony with love and spent passion.

His voice hitching with emotion, tears still wet on his cheeks, the
elder twin said quietly, “By this mark I wear upon my body, Elrohir, I
pledge myself to you forever, unto the ending of Arda.  Our path is not
set, and the choice lies yet before us.   But this I vow, guren, that my
love will endure long after these marks fade from our bodies, and never
will I part from you.”  (my heart)

Elrohir’s voice was equally soft and earnest as he professed his own vow
of love.  “And I swear to you, gellen, your choice is my choice.
Whether it be the path of the Eldar, to live out our days upon the
shores of Eldamar, or to choose the Doom of Men, I shall not be parted
from you, even in death.  For were our fates to be sundered, I would
surely pass from grief.  You are my twin, my brother… my soul.”  (my
joy)

The May Day revelry outside went on, unheeded by two Peredhil who slept
peacefully.



Part 5
~*~*~*~*~

The Great Sea, in the year 124 of the Fourth Age

And so the years passed, too quickly by some standards and all too
slowly by others, yet inevitably the passage of time etched the memories
of deeds both fair and foul on the history of Middle-earth.

To the astonishment of all, not in the least an amazed Glorfindel, mere
weeks after Erestor and the Seneschal professed their love for one
another, the darkling Noldo presented his speechless lover with a simple
silver betrothal ring in the Hall of Fire one evening.  Once the golden
Lord regained his power of speech, he accepted enthusiastically and
swept his betrothed into a rather inappropriately long, passionate kiss
that ended only when Elrond suggested under his breath that the two find
a less public place to carry on.

Not one to stand on formalities, the flamboyant Seneschal of Imladris
insisted on blatantly flouting the prescribed ritual of marital rites
and convinced his beloved Counselor to wed with him mere months after
their betrothal.  As Glorfindel jokingly told anyone who would listen,
the Valar needed to redress their wrongs – they had kept him apart from
Erestor for too long.  

So it was that on Yuletide eve of that same year, the household of
Elrond Peredhel gathered under the sparkling, clear night skies to
witness Glorfindel o Gondolin a Imladris wed Erestor o Lindon while the
stars of Elbereth shone down brightly upon them.

Estel, Chief of the Dúnedain, never spoke of his attraction for his
foster brothers, for it was fair Undómiel who won his heart, and she
erased any passing thought of Elladan and Elrohir from his mind.  Long
did he love his Evenstar, and though through the years they were oft
parted, Arwen ever held hope he would fulfill his destiny, knowing full
well the implications of her desire.

It came to pass that Sauron was destroyed, the foundations of Barad-dûr
were riven, and Elessar became ruler of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor
and Arnor.  Middle-earth was filled with hope, yet the healing of the
land was bittersweet.  Many had died bravely in the fight against the
Shadow, and their memory was revered.  The fate of the children of
Elrond was sealed; Arwen Undómiel wed her Elessar and chose the path of
Elros, while Elladan and Elrohir cleaved to Elvenkind, ever desiring to
see their beloved naneth on the far shores, whole and at peace.

Even after the three keepers of the Rings of Power took ship into the
West, life was good in Imladris.  The Sons of Elrond ruled fairly in
their father’s stead, honoring his vision and keeping the Last Homely
House an abode of peace, music, and lore.  No longer did the gwanûn take
others to their bed.  The brethren found that the desire to share their
bond with a third faded as tranquility grew across the land, and their
warrior ways were left behind.  The love between them grew stronger,
their union complete unto itself.  

Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien, remained in his Wood for a number of
years, but at last found the mellryn haunting and oppressive in their
silence, now bereft of the Lady’s light.  No longer finding solace among
the trees that had been his home for years uncounted, Celeborn removed
to Imladris with the remaining Galadhel, residing with his grandsons and
biding his time until at last he too would take ship and be reunited
with his beloved Galadriel.

Celeborn’s mood was essentially light in spite of lingering melancholy
over leaving Caras Galadhon.  His ancient wisdom served his grandsons
well as they strove to rule Imladris in their father's absence.  Indeed,
the Sons of Elrond oft left the ruling of the realm to their grandfather
and journeyed together, for their wanderlust had never quite left them.
At times they were much as a rolling stone, and the brethren made many a
trek to Rohan, Ithilien, and far Gondor.

Once Glorfindel had made his intentions toward Erestor known, Rúmil
abandoned his half-hearted dreams of winning the Seneschal’s favor and
focused his attentions on Lothvaen, who ran Imladris with almost
militant efficiency, following eerily in the footsteps of his
predecessor, Master Erestor.  The Lórien Elf gave up his philandering
ways, and assured of the Galadhel’s sincerity, the beguiling Noldo
allowed himself to be wooed by the persistent silver-haired Elf, rather
successfully by all accounts.

Rúmil accompanied Haldir and his mate to Imladris along with Lord
Celeborn, and was deliriously happy in his monogamy, much to his
surprise.  Much to the Galadhel's amazement and delight, Lothvaen’s
demeanor inside the bedchamber was in direct opposition to his staid,
reserved appearance, and frequently the unfortunate occupants of the
adjoining chambers resorted to pounding on the wall, tired of having
their repose interrupted yet again by shouts and howls of ecstasy.

Orophin and Nurael, now grandparents, chose to depart Middle-earth as
Galadriel took her leave, anxious to be reunited with their own parents.
Orophin’s daughter, her husband, and their two young children
accompanied them, but to their parents’ consternation Orophin’s two sons
chose to remain a bit longer, reluctant to leave behind the only land
they had ever known.  Knowing that in the passage of time for the Elves,
their parting from their parents would only be for a short while, the
ellyn chose to stay with their Uncles Rúmy and ‘Vaen.

After sixty years had passed, murmurings of the forest brought sad
tidings to the valley of the Misty Mountains, and it was with haste that
the Lords of Imladris rode west to escort the last of the Ring-bearers,
stouthearted Samwise Gamgee, to the Grey Havens.  Sam was elderly, but
still hale, and in spite of his sorrow at losing his beloved wife Rosie,
was anxious to see his Mr. Frodo again.

The last of the Rangers of the North passed away, along with the other
heroic survivors of the War of the Ring.  Elladan and Elrohir made the
long journey to Rohan, accompanied by the Halflings Master Peregrine and
Master Meriadoc, when they received word from King Éomer Éadig, and the
brethren were at their friend’s side when he breathed his last.

Another journey was made a few years later when valiant Éowyn, bride of
Prince Faramir, passed away, and the gwanûn stayed long, leaving the
ruling of Imladris to Celeborn, until at last the youngest son of
Denethor, son of Ecthelion, passed on to the place they knew not where.

King Elessar, their beloved foster brother, had finally passed, leaving
the rule of the Reunited Kingdom to his son Eldarion.  Knowing his time
was near, Estel had written a long letter to Elrond, assuring the
Peredhel of his love as well as gratitude.  The King took great pains to
express his love for his Queen, trying to assuage Elrond’s sorrow over
losing his daughter.  The letter was thick, blurred in spots as though
moisture had been carefully blotted away, and was bound with an emerald
ribbon, which recalled the color of the Elfstone.  A second letter, not
as thick, but fraught with emotion, was for Celebrían, she who had gone
West long before Elessar's birth. 

Comforting Undómiel in her grief, the brethren escorted their sister to
the silent, barren wood of Laurelindórenan and said their final goodbyes
before she joined her namesake, Lúthien the fair, in death.  In her
brothers' keeping she entrusted thick letters for her parents and
grandparents.  In the letters, she assured her family of her love,
telling of the great works of Elessar during his life and the great love
they shared, even unto the end.  She did not regret her choice, she
wrote, and beseeched her loved ones to remember her with joy, for her
King unto the last loved her thoroughly and wholeheartedly.

Thranduil, last Elven king in Middle-earth, had at last grown weary of
his far woodland realm and made the westward journey, joining the rest
of his kin.  Upon Elessar’s death, Legolas had sailed with Gimli Elf-
friend, and without his son and queen, the years seemed long and without
color.  Some time ago, the woodland ruler - along with those of his
household who chose to sail - had removed to Imladris to await the last
ship.  The months were spent in a bustle of organizing and packing in
preparation for the last sojourn of the Edhil to the land of their
forbearers.

The waning of the Elves was nigh, for already the lore of the War of the
Ring was fading into legend.  Word had been sent from Mithlond that the
last ship West would depart, and all who remained behind would be fated
to remain upon Arda until the end, fading from sight and mind of Men.  

  ~*~*~*~*~  

The gentle rocking of the ship echoed the slow and lazy motion of
Elrohir’s body as he tenderly made love to his brother.  Soon the great
ship would dock and passengers would disembark at Alqualondë, anxious to
join the ones they had long been parted from.  In quiet solitude, the
brethren shared their bond before they, too, would rejoin their father
and see their naneth again, and begin a new life in the blissful land of
Aman.

The Elf-knight spilled his essence in the pale, slender form beneath him
with a long, low groan, while Elladan spent, shuddering, between their
joined bodies.  His arousal pulsing weakly in his twin’s still-twitching
channel, Elrohir rolled their joined bodies to the side and moved to
withdraw his spent length, but Elladan pulled him close and muttered a
drowsy protest, wrapping his long legs around the Elf-knight’s slim
waist, keeping them joined while they rested.  

“Love you, El,” the younger twin murmured into the sweetly scented hair
spilling across his naked chest.  “Always.”

Elladan touched his brother’s flushed cheek gently.  “Forever,” he
agreed. 

The flâteithiol had faded, but the love between them burned brighter
than ever with the passing of years, still blazing as fiercely as it had
the very first time they professed their love.

The creaking of timbers and a gentle thud signaled the ship's arrival at
the quay of the Havens.  The brethren arose and dressed, sharing
lingering kisses, and joined the throng of Elves on deck who waited
eagerly to be reunited with loved ones.

“Do you see them?” Elladan whispered anxiously, standing on his toes,
shading his eyes against the bright sunlight.  He peered intently into
the milling crowd on the shore.

Elrohir’s keen eyesight roved over the mass of Elves, ignoring the
splendor of the land itself, with its sparkling white shores and
crystalline aqua waters, and the majestic Pelóri towering behind
picturesque buildings of the harbor.

Gasping, the Elf-knight grasped his brother’s hand and pulled him along
roughly, rushing across the deck.  The crowd parted for the twin Lords
of Imladris, and the brethren thundered down the gangplank to the dock,
oblivious to the amused and indulgent smiles that followed.

With a joyous cry, they were swept into the arms of their naneth, who
waited for them - happy and healed once more.  

They were home.

*~*~* finis *~*~*

Notes:

The Adinkra symbols of the Asante (Ashante) peoples of Ghana and the
Ivory Coast
http://altreligion.about.com/library/glossary/symbols/bldefsadinkra.htm
http://www.library.cornell.edu/africana/Writing_Systems/Adinkra_page1.ht
ml

Kuntenkanten	 				humility, modesty
Gyawu (sometimes called gyawu atiko)		valor, respect,
leadership
Aya						defiance, independence,
resourcefulness