Title: Resurrection, 36/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Thranduil, Lindir, Gildor, Legolas, and Elrond/Celebrían Rating: NC-17 Beta: Kenaz Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males and just a little bit of drama, because this is me, after all. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this. Author’s Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at Glorfindel. He’s hard to refuse… As usual, I’m not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big surprise, I’m sure), so if that’s your thing, this won’t entertain you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it. Set in the Second Age and Third Ages. Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel are joined; Thranduil’s party travels east. A soft breeze blew in through the windows of Glorfindel’s chamber, setting the soft draperies to fluttering. He could hear the sea and its enduring call, beckoning to him and all those of his kind. One day, he would heed that call, but not this night. This night a new life began; this night he would hold Erestor in his arms and make love to him. For just a moment, his heart froze and he panicked. What if Erestor changed his mind? What if he could not bring himself to let Gildor leave? What would he do if that were the case? A soft knock fell upon his door and he answered it, trembling fingers closing on the handle and turning it. Erestor had been crying, and that was understandable; he had loved Gildor. He reached out and drew the councilor into his arms as he closed the door. He guided Erestor into the room, softly stroking his hair and placing gentle kisses upon his head. “Is all left well between you?” he asked quietly. “Aye. Gildor is an amazing elf, Glorfindel.” “That he is; he single-handedly saved my life at least twice in Mordor.” “And for that, I will be forever grateful to him.” He looked into Glorfindel’s eyes. “This night is for us, my lion. Let us start our new lives by putting our old lives behind us.” “Agreed,” Glorfindel murmured as he took Erestor’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. Soft moans echoed between them as they rediscovered one another. No more stolen, guilty moments; this night and each night thereafter, they would make long, passionate leisurely love to one another. As the kiss lengthened, their passion for one another rose. Erestor could not get Glorfindel naked fast enough, nor could the warrior navigate the complicated clasps on Erestor’s robes quickly enough. “For the love of the Valar, why do you have to have so many cursed clasps!” Glorfindel half-grumbled as he fumbled with the intricate metal closures. “And why do you have to wear so many layers!” Erestor growled playfully, batting Glorfindel’s hands away so he could jerk the warrior’s tunic off his shoulders. “To Mordor with your undershirt!” he ripped the thin cloth off the warrior’s torso. He jerked at the laces on Glorfindel’s breeches as his lover struggled out of his boots. As the robe finally slipped free from Erestor’s shoulders, Glorfindel exclaimed, “Pants? You are wearing pants under that monstrosity?” Erestor paused and looked down, his arousal clearly straining against his velvet leggings. “At least mine are not laced from crotch to navel!” He finally jerked the leather pants past Glorfindel’s hips. He kicked off his shoes and the leggings as Glorfindel pulled them free, then he laughed as the warrior lifted him and carried him to the bed. “Ai!” he shouted as he was tossed to the soft mattress and the Elda fell upon him with enthusiasm. “Oh, oh . . . oh Valar…” he breathed as Glorfindel’s hand slid, fingers splayed wide, down his stomach and between his legs. He arched his back, gripping the warrior’s back as he thrust into his hand. “Sweet Elbereth, yes!” “There is not one tiny place that I am not going to touch, kiss, suck and bite this eve, my lusty raven.” “Mmm… promises, promises,” Erestor moaned, fisting Glorfindel’s hair and hauling the warrior’s mouth to his own. “Gods, if I do not have you now, right now, I am going to go mad,” Glorfindel growled. “Then take me, my lion,” Erestor purred. “Claim me and mark me as your own.” He gasped as Glorfindel flipped him to his stomach and spread his legs with his knees. He wadded the bedcovers in his fists as he arched his back, flexing his hips and grinding his arousal against the soft silk sheets. He closed his eyes and listened to Glorfindel preparing himself, then he gasped and bucked against the warrior’s hand as his beloved’s fingers slid inside him. “Oh, yes,” he purred, “that feels so good, so good…” He cried out as the Elda found his mark, half in pain, and half in rapture. His body bowed and he pulled his knees underneath him. “For nearly an age, I have dreamed of this,” he murmured. “Take me, please.” Glorfindel pushed inside Erestor, gripping his shoulders as he was seated deep inside his beloved’s body. “Sweet Eru,” he breathed, his mind swimming, his unguarded thoughts swirling in his brain and reaching out for Erestor’s. “This is where I belong,” he whispered. “You are my soul’s mate.” Erestor drew a ragged gasp, from both the breaching and the sensations that flooded his body and his mind. He could hear Glorfindel’s voice, his thoughts, he could feel what Glorfindel felt, and it was overwhelming. So much love, so much passion and desire . . . it was all so vivid, so clear, as if he had been swimming in a fog for nigh on an age. “Oh gods, oh dear gods,” Erestor whispered. “I love you so much, so much…” He felt Glorfindel’s warm breath on his ear. “You need not say it, my love,” the Elda’s deep voice murmured. “I can feel it.” Slowly, Glorfindel began to move within him. He felt what Glorfindel felt; the bond between them growing stronger each second they made love. This was his home, this place that defied the physical world, this place where their hearts and souls joined. This was not what they told you when they spoke of bonding, but he knew with unwavering certainty that that was exactly what was happening. “Always, I am yours always,” he whispered as his beloved’s turgid length delved inside him and opened him wide. “Always, I will live for you,” Glorfindel replied. The intensity of their joining was too much for it to last much longer. Erestor cried out, his lover’s strong hand milking his seed from his length, as Glorfindel’s essence flooded his body. They collapsed upon the bed and Erestor drew Glorfindel’s arms close around him. He still held the Elda inside him and he blinked lazily. His body tingled all over and each small movement of a finger or a toe caused another wave of bliss to flood his limbs. “I love you, Erestor,” Glorfindel whispered huskily. “I love you, Glorfindel,” Erestor replied, a broad smile curving his lips. * * * * They had traveled far from the Havens and had now reached the pass between the Misty and the White mountains. In another five days, they would reach Thranduil’s home north of the Forest Road. Gildor had become an unofficial escort to Legolas, and over the weeks of their journey had found himself quite taken by the young prince. Legolas was but forty years old and he definitely possessed a youthful exuberance and curiosity; however, there was something perplexingly mature about the prince that Gildor could not quite understand. At times, the interaction between them was as one would expect: Gildor was a mentor in some regard, as Glorfindel had been to Thranduil, but at other times Gildor would feel strangely naïve and inexperienced in Legolas’ presence. It was as if the young prince had some insight into the nature of life to which no one else was privy. Anor was setting in the west as they made camp near Fangorn Forest. Gildor placed his pack near the bole of a large tree and closed his eyes, listening to the murmuring of the trees. He felt Legolas’ hand slip inside his own and he smiled. “Will I learn to understand them one day?” the prince asked. “Aye, my prince, you will, and you will find that they are our friends.” “I love trees,” Legolas said quietly. “I like to climb into their arms and let them cradle me like a babe. My father still climbs trees, he says they bring him comfort.” Gildor grinned. He wondered how Thranduil would feel about the picture Legolas painted of him. “Your father is most wise.” “My father is in love, with Lindir,” the prince replied without preamble. Gildor blinked and looked down at Legolas. “How come you by this knowledge?” “I see the way he looks at him, the way he smiles when Lindir is near. He never looked that way at my mother, but my grandmother did look that way at my grandfather. My grandmother loved grandfather so much that she will fade now. It is why she sailed to Aman.” Legolas cocked his head. “Have you ever looked at anyone like that?” Gildor knew what Legolas spoke of; indeed, he had seen it himself. His surprise was not in that Thranduil loved Lindir; his surprise was in the prince’s recognition of that love. “Does it disturb you, that your father looks at Lindir that way? Or that your grandmother will fade?” “No,” Legolas answered. “I want my father to be happy. He cared about my mother, this I know, but I do not think he ever felt the way about her that he feels about Lindir. And as for my grandmother, when she dies, then she and my grandfather will be reunited in Mandos’ Halls.” He looked thoughtfully at Gildor. “You have not answered my question.” As usual, the common trick of deflecting a child’s curiosity with another question did not work with the prince. He thought about it, and then answered, “No. I have loved another, this is true. But I have never felt that sort of love that makes one’s heart skip or their breath grow short.” “You will, one day,” the prince answered with a knowing smile. “Will you sit beside me while we break our fast?” “Of course. Lead on, my prince.” * * * * Lindir placed his pack beside Thranduil’s own. Each night they lay in their respective bedrolls, close enough that they could reach out and touch one another. Each night, they fell asleep gazing into the other’s eyes and holding hands, waiting for the night when they might finally make love in seclusion. Lindir had been careful around Legolas; he worried what the prince’s reaction might be to another suitor to his father’s heart so soon after his mother’s departure. Thankfully, Legolas seemed more than preoccupied with Gildor, and true to form, Gildor was being an excellent sport about it. He smiled as he felt Thranduil’s hand upon his wrist, and he looked up into the king’s eyes. “Come,” Thranduil whispered. “Follow me.” Lindir obliged with a smile. To be continued… Title: Resurrection, 37/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Thranduil/Lindir, Gildor, Legolas, and Elrond/Celebrían Rating: NC-17 Beta: Kenaz Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males and just a little bit of drama, because this is me, after all. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this. Author's Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at Glorfindel. He's hard to refuse... As usual, I'm not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big surprise, I'm sure), so if that's your thing, this won't entertain you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it. Set in the Second Age and Third Ages. Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary: Thranduil and Lindir grow closer, Erestor and Glorfindel take a big step. Thranduil led Lindir deep into the trees, and then guided his minstrel to lean back against a broad trunk. He caressed Lindir's cheek with the back of his ringed hand and leaned in closely. "I have wanted to kiss you since I first saw you, long ago. I have always imagined that your lips would be soft and taste like peaches." Lindir blinked slowly then gazed with heavy-lidded eyes into Thranduil's own. "Then kiss me and find out, my lord," he murmured, parting his lips as Thranduil leaned in further for a kiss. A small moan escaped him as their lips met. They had fallen back into friendship easily, as if they had never been parted, and now they moved ever forward, learning to know one another on this new plane. The kiss was brief, almost chaste but for the underlying passion that they both felt. Lindir ached to be pressed against the tree, to feel that battle-hardened body against his own, to taste the king's tongue inside his mouth. "I was right. Peaches," Thranduil murmured, then he slid his hand around the back of Lindir's neck and kissed him deeper. The feeling of Lindir's fingers in his hair, of the way the minstrel's body arched against him, it reawakened a long-dormant passion. "Touch me," he whispered as their mouths separated, and he felt Lindir's long fingers on his back. "Valar, how I want you," he murmured against the minstrel's lips. "And I want you, my king," Lindir replied. "So very badly." He closed his eyes as Thranduil's strong hand slid inside his tunic and came to rest over his heart. "It beats fast, like a rabbit's," he said quietly. "Is that from fear or from desire?" "I do not fear you, Thranduil," Lindir whispered. "I think I am in love with you." "Mmm... be sure, my songbird. For when I lose my heart, I will lose it completely." "I am sure," Lindir answered. "I am in love with you." "I will not have our first night of lovemaking be against a tree in Fangorn Forest," Thranduil said, pulling Lindir's hands over his head and pinning him against the trunk. "Though I will admit that it holds a certain . . . decadent appeal." Lindir laughed softly. "I will do my best to be patient, my lord." "Yes, do that, for I fear you may have to be patient enough for the both of us." "If you will not have me here, there is still something I can give you." Thranduil watched as Lindir's wrists slipped from his grasp and the minstrel's fingers began working the laces on his breeches. He planted his hands against the tree and closed his eyes as Lindir's long fingers grasped his arousal. His eyelids fluttered closed as his soon-to-be-lover expertly worked his length. "By the Valar, I had no idea..." Lindir laughed huskily. "Do not forget, my lord. I am older than you." Thranduil canted his head and bestowed a lick to the point of Lindir's ear. "That feels so good," he whispered. Lindir drew a ragged breath, and then gasped as Thranduil's hand slid inside his own leggings, mimicking his motion. "I want you, so badly," Lindir whispered. "I want to taste you, feel your skin against my own, feel you inside me..." Thranduil leaned closer, thrusting into Lindir's grip as he intensified the motion of his own hand upon the Noldo's arousal. "You will have what you want; I will take you and claim you for my own. No other will dare look upon you, as you will be mine." A tear slipped down Lindir's cheek. "Yes, that is what I want." "I love you, Lindir, so much that I can barely breathe, so much that I would kill anyone who so much as cast you an ill glance. You are my sun and moon, my earth and stars; you are my world." Lindir strangled a cry as he came, burying his face in Thranduil's thick, silky, honeyed mane, clasping his Sinda King to his chest. "For so long I have wanted to hear those words spoken to me," he whispered through his tears. Thranduil's release came hard upon Lindir's own, and he leaned heavily against the slight Noldo. "I will speak them to you everyday for the rest of your life, my love." "Valar, how I love you," Lindir whispered. Thranduil smiled. "And I love you." * * * * "Have preparations been made to your liking?" Glorfindel asked with a smile as he watched Erestor pour over a list for Elrond and Celebrían's wedding. "I still have to speak with the gardeners about the courtyard, and the cooks about the food, and the musicians about..." Glorfindel chuckled. "It is comforting to know that some things never change." Erestor looked up at his lover and smiled. "I suppose I have done enough this day. There is still a week left to prepare." "Most excellent," Glorfindel replied with a smile, "for I have plans for you this eve." Erestor raised an eyebrow. "You do? And what would those plans be?" "Plans that require you to change out of that drab attire and go for a walk with me." Erestor rose from his chair and rounded the desk. "Drab? I think these robes are fitting given my station." "Yes, yes, whatever you say, my love. But they are not fitting for what I have planned." "I suppose a loincloth and wrist cuffs are fitting for what you have planned." Glorfindel snorted. "You love those wrist cuffs." Erestor snaked his arms around Glorfindel's waist. "Mmm... yes, I do, especially when you are the one wearing them." "Wicked, councilor. You are unapologetically wicked." Erestor winked and placed a lingering kiss upon the Elda's lips. "Now, go to our chambers and change your garments. I have left an appropriate robe upon the bed. Time and tide wait for no one." "Yes, my lion." He left his makeshift office and climbed the stairs to their chambers. * * * * "I knew you had something wicked planned," Erestor murmured as Glorfindel carried him up a hill. "Why am I blindfolded?" "Because it is a surprise." "Why are we outside?" Glorfindel stopped climbing as they reached the top of a steep hill and he set his lover down. He removed the blindfold as he said, "Because they could not come inside." Erestor blinked and grasped Glorfindel's wrist. "Sweet Eru," he breathed. Perched on the hilltop before him were two massive Eagles. "This is Gwaihir, and this is Landroval. Apart from you, they are the ones who love me best." Erestor bowed his head in awe. "They were fathered by Thorondor, the winged friend who took my body to rest when I died long ago. They have looked after me since my return, and they have come to bear witness of our love back to Manwë." Erestor turned and looked at Glorfindel. "Both my parents and your own are in Aman, so I asked them to witness our bonding and bear tidings back to our families in the Undying Lands." Erestor felt tears well in his eyes as he covered his mouth. "You . . . you want to bond with me? Now?" "Of course I do. We have loved one another for an age, I see no need for formal courtship." "And you asked them to witness it?" "Aye, them and one other." Glorfindel motioned to Elrond, who stood close by. "They love me, and I love them. They, and Elrond, are as near to family as I have here in Middle- earth." "Oh, Glorfindel," Erestor breathed as he threw his arms around the Elda's neck. "Never, in all of my wildest dreams did I ever imagine anyone would do something this special, this spectacular, for me." Glorfindel held Erestor tightly. "It is not half as much as you deserve." Erestor moved to where Elrond stood. "I owe you so much, my lord," he said softly. Elrond smiled. "My payment is in your happiness, Erestor. It is an honor to witness your bonding." Erestor smiled broadly as his lord embraced him, and then he took his place beside Glorfindel. This moment was the culmination of all his hopes and dreams to that point. He had earned a place of honor in Elrond's household, he had proven to himself and to those he loved that he was worthy of it, and now he had the one he had loved nearly his whole life by his side. They stood hand in hand, gazing into one another's eyes under Ithil's light, and promised to love and honor one another until the ending of time. Glorfindel slipped an intricately carved golden band upon Erestor's finger, then gave Erestor one just like it to place on his own. The great birds watched and witnessed their promise, then with soft cries, rose into the air and bore the tale West to the Lord of the Valar, who would bless their union. Elrond also gave his blessing, and then left the two lovers alone. * * * * They finally arrived in the glade that was home to Thranduil and what remained of his folk. When he could get Gildor away from his son, Thranduil had queried the elf lord about the likelihood that he would be able to keep his borders secure when so many had either sailed or died. The news was not what he had hoped to hear, the glade where they lived offered no natural protection but the trees, and required a substantial number of warriors to form a perimeter. However, Gildor promised to reassess the situation upon their arrival. Thranduil knew of lands further to the north, where there were tall hills and an underground river. He had long thought of carving a dwelling there beneath the hills in the fashion of the home of his father, Menegroth. Gildor had also lived in caves as a young warrior, and Thranduil imagined the elf lord would be helpful to him in the building as well. He was responsible for his people now, for their well-being and safety, and he would do whatever was in his power to see that they remained safe as long as they stayed in Middle-earth, even if that meant surrendering the southern part of the forest and their homes in the trees. He slung his pack over his shoulder and greeted those who came to welcome him home. He introduced Lindir to his closest advisers and friends, and chuckled as Legolas introduced Gildor, boasting to his friends that his new best friend was a renowned warrior. He stood at the base of a massive tree, holding Lindir's hand and looking up at the flet that had been his home for many years. "Up there is my bed," he said softly. Lindir looked up as well. "It is far above the ground." Thranduil grinned. "You Noldor, always with your feet planted firmly on the ground. It is safe and strong, and will provide us with seclusion and a soft bed under the stars in which to make love." He leaned into his lover. "I have noticed that you no longer limp, so climbing the ladder should not be a problem." Lindir chuckled. "Nay, my lord; that affliction was healed as soon as I joined you." He smiled. "I assure you, I can climb a ladder." "Well then, up with you. I will carry your pack, you just get yourself up there without falling." Lindir smiled and handed Thranduil his pack, then began climbing the rope ladder. To be continued... Title: Resurrection, 38/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Thranduil/Lindir, Gildor, Legolas, and Elrond/Celebrían Rating: NC-17 Beta: Kenaz Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males and just a little bit of drama, because this is me, after all. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this. Author's Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at Glorfindel. He's hard to refuse... As usual, I'm not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big surprise, I'm sure), so if that's your thing, this won't entertain you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it. Set in the Second Age and Third Ages. Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary: Lindir gives himself to Thranduil; Glorfindel and Erestor appreciate what they have. Lindir watched as Thranduil laid their packs down and walked the short distance to where he stood by the bed. Far below them, the lives of the Greenwood Elves went on as always: the cooks prepared a welcoming meal; livestock was tended; gardens were tilled; water was gathered from the river; and elflings recited their lessons in a small glade on the other side of a creek. They were alone high in the trees with Anor's light softly filtering through the boughs, and Manwë's breath gently creating a soft rustling sound among them. It was the most peaceful moment he could recall in his life. He had always lived in cities, bustling with activity, amongst stone and buildings. There, in the trees, life seemed to have a different quality - a slower pace - and it set his heart at ease. Thranduil slowly removed his tunic and undershirt, and the slow revealing of the king's body took Lindir's breath away. Regal in stature, yet predatory in motion, Thranduil was an imposing figure, much as Lindir imagined the king’s father had been. Lindir could see the change in his good friend turned lover: since the war, Thranduil seemed more commanding, more awesome than he had been as a prince. Perhaps it was duty, or perhaps it was what he had seen and been through; whatever it was, Thranduil was no longer a handsome prince, he had been transformed into a wise and powerful king. He was distractedly loosening the clasps on his tunic as he watched Thranduil take the few steps that would bring them together. Closing his eyes, he felt his king's hands upon his shoulders and his breath upon his ear. "Let me," Thranduil murmured, covering Lindir's hands with his own and gently moving them away. He unwrapped his lover like a precious gift, slowly revealing the minstrel's pale, ivory skin. He was so soft, he smelled so good, like the fresh heather that grew on the slopes of the Misty Mountains. Slowly, he explored Lindir's flesh with his mouth, starting at his left ear then moving down his neck to where his shoulder joined, then across to the other side and back up to the Noldo's right ear. All the while, his lover trembled slightly and sighed; Thranduil thought it was a most beautiful sound, as if air itself could suddenly sing. He slipped the tunic from Lindir's shoulders, casually tossing it upon the foot of the bed. Now that his lover's torso was bared, his hands joined in the exploration, caressing shoulders, arms, and chest. Lindir began to moan quietly, arching into Thranduil's touch, reveling in the feeling of being savored, as he once had been long ago. "Talk to me," he whispered. "I love you," Thranduil replied. "All of you. I love your beauty: your soft skin; your pale hair that reminds me of the light of a harvest moon; your eyes that are like liquid pools of clear water; your lips that are softer than the petals of the youngest flower. I love your voice that causes gooseflesh to rise on my skin and warmth to flood my heart. But most of all, I love your spirit and your generous heart, your gentleness, your kindness, your selfless nature. You temper me and make me a better king, you are teaching me what it is to be truly kind and wise." Lindir wrapped his arms around Thranduil's neck and held him close. "I never thought I would love again," he murmured. "I did not believe I could be brave enough or strong enough to take the risk. But loving you requires no bravery; it only requires recognition of what I once saw in you long ago. What I knew then in part, I know now in total. I do love you, Thranduil, and I swear to you, I will love no other as long as I live." Thranduil took Lindir's face in his hands. "Then I am blessed among all the Firstborn." He kissed his lover deeply, gently sliding Lindir's leggings over his hips and off his legs, and then lowering him to the bed. Lindir lay on his back, looking up at Thranduil, watching him slowly remove his breeches. The way his lover's body moved, muscles coiling, flexing, and stretching, powerful and undeniably sensual, caused his desire to flare bright. He opened his legs as his lover mounted the bed and lay down atop him. Wrapping his legs high over Thranduil's hips, he moaned softly, turning his head as his lover's lips caressed the curve of his ear before focusing attention on the point. He rolled his hips upward, grinding his arousal against that of his king's, desire rising quickly between them as their bodies moved together. Thranduil released Lindir's ear and gazed into the Noldo's deepening blue eyes. As purely beautiful as Lindir was, he was also wanton, and it drove him mad. Lovemaking had been such a subdued experience for him once he was married, and it was not something he and his wife had done often. While he had cared for her, he had not really desired her, not like this, and he knew she had felt the same way about him. Now he was with one he really wanted, the one he had wanted all along, and to see that desire returned in Lindir's eyes, in the way his minstrel's body moved, it nearly drove him to the brink. Lindir arched beneath Thranduil, raking his fingernails over the king's firm, round backside and up the length of his back. "Take me, please take me," he whispered. "As you wish, my treasure," Thranduil replied huskily. "I am no elleth," Lindir replied. "You need not handle me as if I were apt to break." Thranduil raised an eyebrow, a sensual grin curving his lips. "Truly? Well then, I am most glad you said so." He reached across the bed and retrieved a small, clay jar from a low table. Setting it on the floor beside the bed, he then reached up and pulled Lindir's hands over his head. "Do not move," he said in a deep husky voice, and then he slipped from between Lindir's legs, grasped the insides of the minstrel's thighs, and pushed them apart. Lindir curled his fingers around the smooth wood of the headboard, looking down at his lover. Thranduil lay between his legs, the king's warm breath fanning his now aching arousal, his midnight blue gaze fixing Lindir to the spot. A feral grin curved his lover's lips, and then he was engulfed in the Sinda's wet embrace. Lindir gasped and groaned, arching his back as Thranduil took him in deep. "Oh, Valar," he moaned, his desire immediately reaching a fevered pitch under the relentless assault on his arousal. "Oh, yes, yes," he breathed, fighting to thrust into the king's mouth, but being held fast to the soft bed. He ached for Thranduil's large hands, his powerful arms, shoulders, and back; his king was so strong, so wildly and naturally sensual, and so unlike Glorfindel in his feral nature. He knew now what it felt like to be possessed in addition to being truly loved. He belonged to Thranduil now, and the king belonged to him. A strangled cry erupted from his lips as he spilled down the king's throat and his body went limp. Trembling, he felt Thranduil's warm tongue lap at his slackening length, then soft lips made their way up his stomach and chest, finally finding his mouth and kissing him deeply. He moaned into the kiss, tasting himself on Thranduil's tongue; then he gasped as the king released his mouth and his body was breached by two oiled fingers. "My minstrel," Thranduil purred. "I shall hear you sing a song of a different sort this day." "I am yours," Lindir breathed, arching and undulating against his king. "Indeed you are, and I shall never give you cause to forget it." "I could never," Lindir murmured, then another choked cry escaped him as he arched off the bed. "Oh, please, please, I am begging you. Do not make me wait any longer." Thranduil gathered Lindir's long legs in his arms and pushed inside him in one smooth, unceasing motion, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt in the minstrel's body. The heartbreaking cry that escaped Lindir's lips caused his heart to race. It was the kind of cry that straddled the line between excruciating pleasure and exquisite pain. It was a cry of surrender. Thranduil began to move inside him, delving deep, opening him wide, and Lindir fisted the king's hair, assaulting his mouth, as if he were trying to take all of Thranduil inside him and hold him there. He felt the kings' thighs push against the back of his own and Thranduil pulled his legs higher. Then in one quick, smooth move, Thranduil scooped him up then sat up, pulling him onto his lap. "Sweet Elbereth!" Lindir gasped as Thranduil pushed even deeper inside him. He dug his fingers into the king's shoulders as the Sinda struck his mark with each thrust, causing Lindir to arch his back and gasp. He could not cry out, his voice was silenced, his blood turned to liquid heat, and his body began to coil into itself. His arousal, which had lately been drained, was turgid once again and aching to be touched. Thranduil held him in place as he leaned backward, forcing his lover's length deeper inside him. He reached down and grasped his own arousal, pumping it in time with Thranduil's thrusts, dragging himself over the edge, and falling into a warm state of bliss as his desire was spent. Lindir went limp in his arms; his lover's body covered with a thin sheen of sweat and his skin flushed a beautiful shade of pink. His own climax came quickly after Lindir's; the minstrel's convulsing and tightening body squeezing his own swollen and aching arousal. He drew Lindir closer; his lover felt like a rag doll. Cradling Lindir's head on his shoulder, he mustered the strength to lay him down upon the bed, and then he covered the minstrel's lithe form with his own spent body. "I love you," he whispered into one perfect ear. Lindir smiled. "I love you," he replied softly, drawing Thranduil's strong arms closer around him. His eyelids slid closed and he drifted into a state of exhausted, peaceful sleep. * * * * Erestor lay on his side, looking at the ring that Glorfindel had placed on his finger. His beloved lay close behind him, their bodies molded against one another in repose. Warm lips caressed his neck and he smiled. For the first time in his entire life, he was completely and utterly at peace. He felt whole. A large, strong hand caressed his hip and he purred in contentment, snuggling back against his lion's powerful form. "I never dared dream," he whispered. "I tried not to," Glorfindel answered. "But I could not help myself. This feels good, yes? Like home?" Erestor smiled even wider. "Aye, like home. We are bonded," he murmured. "We are, finally." Glorfindel kissed Erestor's pale shoulder. "I have never felt more complete or more proud of anything in my life," Erestor answered softly. "I am the luckiest elf in all of Elvendom." Glorfindel chuckled. "No, that would be me. It has been a long road, Erestor, and I know it was not easy. There was a lot of pain along the way but every step has been worth it." Erestor rolled over in his lover's arms. "Each step has been, and now we are where we were always meant to be." He touched Glorfindel's face. "My only regret is that Gildor and Lindir had to be hurt." Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, they were. But they know we love them still; they know they are our dearest friends. They will both find happiness, Erestor. I know it in my heart." "When do you think we will see them again?" "I do not know, but I promise you we will, someday." "I love you, Glorfindel." Glorfindel smiled. "I love you, Erestor." To be continued... Title: Resurrection, 39/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Thranduil/Lindir, Gildor, Legolas, and Elrond/Celebrían Rating: NC-17 Beta: Kenaz Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males and just a little bit of drama, because this is me, after all. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this. Author’s Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at Glorfindel. He’s hard to refuse… As usual, I’m not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big surprise, I’m sure), so if that’s your thing, this won’t entertain you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it. Set in the Second Age and Third Ages. Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary: Thranduil looks for a new home; Gildor has an unusual experience. Thranduil led an expedition, which included Lindir, Gildor, several of his warriors, and Legolas. They traveled northeast, to a group of low-lying hills near the edge of the great wood. There the Forest River delved beneath ground and had already started what Thranduil wished to finish: a home where his people would remain safe. It was a four-day journey in all, and was relatively uneventful. They saw only wolves, deer, and various other forest creatures on their journey. At night, Lindir and Thranduil stole kisses and caresses after Legolas fell asleep, and while the prince was awake, they were careful in their contact. Thranduil knew he needed to talk with Legolas regarding how he felt about Lindir, but he had yet to find what was the right moment. As they made camp near the hills they had come to explore, he caught sight of his son out of the corner of his eye. Legolas was carrying a bagful of blackberries that he picked from bushes growing along the river. He watched as his son walked up to Lindir and held out the bag, offering the minstrel some fruit. Lindir smiled and accepted the offering, reaching out to touch Legolas’ cheek in thanks. Legolas sat the bag down and wrapped his arms around Lindir’s waist. Lindir caressed his son’s hair then they exchanged quiet words. After the brief conversation was finished, Legolas jogged away with the bag, casting a smile back over his shoulder at Lindir. “What was that about?” Thranduil asked as he approached. Lindir looked at him and smiled. “He told me that he was glad that I made you happy, and that he hoped I would stay.” He leaned in and spoke softly. “He said he was happy that we were in love.” Thranduil laughed and placed his arms around Lindir. “He is always one step ahead of me. All this time I have been trying to find the words to say, worried about how he would feel, and all this time he has known.” “The innocence of youth is often the most insightful time in our lives,” Lindir responded, smiling as his lover nuzzled his neck. “Legolas has always had a special gift of understanding; he must have inherited that from his mother.” “He will make a fine prince, my love,” Lindir answered. * * * * Legolas approached Gildor and tapped the warrior on the shoulder. “Is this where we shall live?” he asked. Gildor looked at the prince. “That is your father’s decision, my liege. However, this does look to be an easily defendable location, particularly if you live underground.” Legolas frowned. “Living underground must be strange. I cannot imagine not hearing the trees at night, or seeing the stars.” “It does take some getting used to, but I think you will find it has some advantages.” “Like what sort of advantages?” “Well, in the winter, when the cold rain falls, you will be warm and dry inside. You can have fire in your hearth, and a kitchen that allows your cooks to make anything they want. You can have soft rugs on your floors and indoor baths, and you will never have to worry about unwanted visitors invading your home.” Legolas nodded. “I suppose those are advantages. But what about trees and seeing the stars at night?” “Well then, you go outside and climb trees, and sit in their boughs to watch the stars.” Legolas smiled. “There are fine trees here for climbing. And look what I found! Blackberries, just like at home!” He held out the bag. “They are sweet, try one.” Gildor reached in and plucked a berry out of the bag and popped it in his mouth. “Mmm, yes they are sweet.” “I followed the river a pace and found a small waterfall and a pond where we can swim. Will you let me show you?” “You wandered off, alone?” Legolas snorted. “As if father’s warriors would ever let me go anywhere alone. No, Gelmir followed me with two of his archers. Come, let me show you, please?” He took Gildor’s hand. Gildor smiled. “Aye, my prince; I shall follow you.” Legolas grinned. “I like having my very own elf lord as a friend.” He winked. Gildor chuckled. “And I like having my very own prince as a friend as well.” * * * * Gildor followed the prince down a winding path through the woods. He smiled as Legolas asked him questions about Imladris and his travels, always wanting to know what the wide world outside of Greenwood was like. After climbing a low hill, they came upon a small lake with a gentle waterfall. As Gildor scanned the landscape, looking for potential danger, the prince stood on the rise of the hill, his chin tilted upward and eyes closed, with the most subtle of smiles curving his lips as Anor’s rays bathed him in her golden light. As Gildor gazed upon the young Sinda, he found himself enrapt. Legolas was long and lanky, but not coltish as so many young males his age were; the prince was elegant even in stillness. His flaxen hair hung straight down his back, and his long arms seemed to be draped at his sides, rather than hanging limply. It was as if he were having a silent communion with Anor; only she and the prince knew what passed between them. Gildor could not turn his gaze away; Legolas was indeed the single most beautiful elf he had ever seen. He watched as the prince raised one arm, placing a long-fingered hand on one hip, his body turning as he lowered his chin and turned his head. Slowly, what once was a subtle smile of satisfaction broadened into a more radiant one, and Gildor felt his heart stop. Fathomless blue eyes framed by honeyed lashes slowly blinked and refocused, peering deep into Gildor’s own eyes. Legolas gazed back at Gildor, knowing in his heart that finally the one he had been waiting for had come. True, he was too young to understand love in its physical form; nonetheless, he recognized love in its most spiritual form. His father and Lindir shared both, and one day, so would he and Gildor. Ice blue eyes gazed back at him, betraying a wounded heart and a fear of trusting again. Still, Legolas saw in Gildor’s eyes what he hoped the warrior saw in his own, a total and profound recognition of what was to be. The prince extended his hand, long fingers languidly unfurling like a spring bud opening to Anor’s rays. “Come,” Gildor heard the prince say. “It is warm; swim with me.” Gildor moved slowly, as if he were mired in a bog of some sort, struggling to rise above the fog in which he seemed to be enveloped. He climbed the few steps to where the prince stood, and took Legolas’ slighter hand in his own. His skin was so soft, he felt so delicate still, possessed as he was of a youth’s form. Despite the youth of his body, the prince’s spirit seemed to possess a wisdom and quiet assurance that Gildor thought he had never known himself. Legolas looked down at the larger, battle-toughened hand that held his gently. The slightly rougher skin of the warrior’s hand felt good wrapped around his own. What Legolas would need to know, Gildor could teach him, and what Gildor needed to feel, Legolas would give him. With a gentle tug, he guided the elder warrior down the low rise in the hill to the water’s edge. Today was the day when he would tell Gildor of their future; he was confident that the warrior would understand. Legolas slipped off his boots, then proceeded to remove his tunic, undershirt, and leggings. He smiled as he spied Gildor diverting his eyes as he disrobed. Legolas knew it was a gesture of respect, not one of shame. Gildor followed his lead, removing his boots and stripping down to his undergarment. Legolas had been around many warriors in this state, so he was familiar with male nudity. However, he could not help but study Gildor’s form when the warrior’s back was turned. One day, he would know that body as well as he knew his own. He climbed onto a low, flat rock, cast a smiling glance at Gildor, then leapt into the water. He then watched as the warrior followed his lead, mounting the low rock then diving in, barely causing a ripple. He grinned broadly as Gildor surfaced, entwining his fingers and quickly pushing the heels of his hands together, causing a jet of water to spurt from between his hands, splashing Gildor between the eyes. A giggle escaped him, a youthful sound that still clung to his voice despite the fact that he was approaching his majority. Gildor wiped his face and chuckled in return, a warm, slightly husky sound that caused Legolas to smile even broader. “Forgive me,” Legolas said, still grinning broadly. “I could not resist.” Gildor could not help but notice the deep, warm undertone the prince’s voice contained; he was at that age when he would begin to sound less like an elfling, and more like an ellon. It sounded like the taste of molasses. They floated upon their backs, basking in Anor’s light and enjoying the cool, invigorating water as it bore them up. Large birds circled overhead, and one dove into the water near Legolas, coming up with a fish in its talons. “Did you see that?” Legolas asked excitedly. “I did,” Gildor answered. “I have never seen birds hunt fish before.” “Some do; the larger ones at any rate.” “I think you are right, Gildor. This place will make a good home for our people.” Gildor smiled. “You are a good prince to put your people ahead of yourself.” “Father says it is what a good ruler does, and I have watched him and grandfather do it all my life.” He swam over to where Gildor floated. “I would like to go ashore now and lay in the light. Do you want to come with me?” Gildor nodded. “Aye, I shall follow you, my prince.” Legolas smiled and swam away. They lay on a smooth flat rock, letting Anor’s light warm and dry their skin and damp undergarments. Legolas lay on his stomach, his arms folded and his hands tucked beneath his head. Gildor lay on his back, the warrior’s hands folded behind his head as he watched the clouds move overhead. “Can I tell you something?” Legolas asked quietly. “Anything,” Gildor answered. “Do you promise not to become upset or to leave me once I have said it?” Gildor frowned as he looked at Legolas. What could the prince have to say that could be so worrisome? “Aye. I will not leave you, my prince. I promise.” Legolas took a deep breath. “You and I are going to be lovers one day.” Gildor lay in stunned shock. “You . . . you are so young.” he said softly; in his heart, the truth began to grow clearer. “Do you not believe me?” Legolas asked wide-eyed. “I . . . I know not what to believe.” Legolas reached out and clasped Gildor’s hand. “Do not be afraid, Gildor. I know love scares you, but it does not always turn out like it did for you and Erestor.” “How . . . how do you know about Erestor?” “I am but a young elf, and those who do not know me sometimes do not recognize that I am a prince. I heard talk in Lindon; I know why you left and came with Lindir. I am not Erestor, Gildor; I know what I want.” “You are too young to know this.” “Too young to know love of the body, but not too young to know love of the heart.” “Yes, too young for both, Legolas. You have not even had your first kiss. How can you know that I am the one you want? You do not know me.” “I understand why you say these things. I am young and you are ancient. You have seen many things that I have not. You have had many experiences that I have never shared, but I know something you do not.” “What is that?” “I know that it is my lack of experience that allows me to see more clearly than you do. I do not feel like I have to protect myself, and I have not suffered pain that I must rise above. I know that I love you, even though I cannot show you. I know that when I come of age, it is you that I wish to share my first kiss with, it is you that I wish to give myself to. I hope you will be here when that day comes, and I hope that you will feel the same way then.” He climbed to his feet. “I promise, I will not mention this again.” Gildor sat up slowly as the prince donned his clothes. To be continued… Title: Resurrection, 40/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Thranduil/Lindir, Gildor, Legolas, and Elrond/Celebrían Rating: NC-17 Beta: Kenaz Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males and just a little bit of drama, because this is me, after all. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this. Author's Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at Glorfindel. He's hard to refuse... As usual, I'm not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big surprise, I'm sure), so if that's your thing, this won't entertain you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it. Set in the Second Age and Third Ages. Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary: Gildor tries to come to grips with Legolas' bold statement, and the travelers return home. They returned to the camp as Anor began to wane. Legolas remained true to his word and spoke no more of how he felt. As they approached the others, Gildor could think of nothing but the slender hand held in his own and the profound and strange conversation with the prince. Was it possible that Legolas was in love with him? How could an elf of forty years know anything about romantic love? Yet it was impossible to deny how much he cared for this young Sinda, how protective he felt toward him, or how much the prince made him smile. The evening passed with talk of moving Thranduil's folk to this new home, and of the excavation of the hillside. The Wood-elves of Greenwood had long been suspicious of Dwarves, owing to the betrayal and murder of Elu Thingol long ago, so unlike the building of Nargothrond and Menegroth the elves would be making this cave dwelling on their own. The Sindar and Silvan elves who dwelled under the rule of Thranduil were not accomplished metal and stone crafters like the Noldor, so the delving of the cave city would be an undertaking. Gildor promised to stay at least until the project was well underway, and both Lindir and Thranduil expressed their thanks. They began their trip home at daybreak, walking during the day and resting at night. On the third and last night of their journey, a hard rain began to fall. Gildor and Thranduil both woke before the others. Thranduil gently nudged Lindir. "Wake, my treasure," he murmured. Lindir blinked sleepily as he returned from reverie, then noticed that they were soaked to the bone. "It rains hard," he mumbled groggily. Thranduil nodded. "Aye, we must make for higher ground - we must climb into mountains." Lindir nodded and disentangled himself from the wet bedding, and tried to wring some of the water from it before slinging it over his shoulder. Gildor was rousing the warriors as he watched Thranduil lift his sleepy son from his soaked bedroll and carry him up the hill. Gildor retrieved the prince's bedroll, and followed the king and Lindir as they began to climb into the hills. It was slow going for the ground was saturated and slippery; however, they soon reached an outcropping of rock and there were several sturdy shrubs nearby. Draping and stretching their wet bedrolls over bushes and between rocks, they were able to form shelters where they could get out of the rain, and the thick fir trees provided shelter from the wind. As they climbed under the makeshift shelters, Gildor took a seat beside Lindir and wrung out his hair. Lindir was doing the same; his friend had a general look of displeasure upon his face. "I am soaked," Lindir grumbled. "It is raining," Gildor replied with a grin. "Thank you for stating the obvious." Gildor chuckled. "You have lived indoors too long, my friend." "And I suppose you are accustomed to this sort of thing?" "Actually, I am." Legolas climbed in and took a seat between Lindir and Gildor, rubbing his damp face. "My boots are wet," he mumbled sleepily. "Take them off and empty the water, then hang them upside down on that twig," Gildor replied, doing the same. As Thranduil joined them, Lindir looked up at his lover. "Does it always rain so hard here?" "Not often, though it seems as if the rain falls harder each year. It is both a blessing and a curse - it is good for the plants that grow here, but makes living outside unpleasant at times." "What of the flets?" Lindir asked. "My staff will have pulled the canopies over them, they should be dry when we return." He smiled and placed an arm around Lindir. "Do you miss the Last Homely House, my love?" he said softly into Lindir's ear. Lindir smiled. "I only miss the baths, and my music room." "Well, there are hot springs beneath the hills where we will build our new home, and I shall see that a music room is built to suit your desires." Lindir snuggled against the king. "You are too kind to me, my lord." "I am not nearly kind enough," Thranduil whispered into Lindir's ear. Legolas yawned and wrapped his arms around Gildor's waist, leaning against the warrior. Somewhat reluctantly, Gildor placed a protective arm around the prince, then leaned back against a smooth rock and closed his eyes. * * * * The sound of birds singing roused them from their small, makeshift shelter, and they emerged into the soft morning light. Droplets of water still fell from the tall trees, but the soaking rain had passed, leaving the bushes and trees glistening in the early morning light. They wrung out their bedrolls once again, and shared a breakfast of Lembas and clear water, then made their way down from the mountains toward the glade where Thranduil's folk lived. True to Thranduil's word, they arrived to find the small tree village functioning as it always did; the storm did not hinder these hardy wood-elves. The talans were draped with an oil-tanned cloth, which provided a waterproof shelter that formed a roof and soft walls. As they climbed up the ladder and into the talan, Lindir smiled. It was like a cozy tent in the trees, providing a private haven. Thranduil grinned as he saw Lindir's reaction. The Noldo was clearly more at home in an enclosed space than an open one. "Is this more to your liking, my love?" Lindir turned and smiled at his lover. "Forgive me, I am not used to living under the stars. I have lived in cities all of my life." Thranduil cupped his lover's cheek. "Whatever makes you happy, my love, I am more than willing to give." Lindir wrapped his arms around Thranduil's waist. "What I would like best right now is a bath and some warm, dry clothes." Thranduil drew his lover closer. "Then I shall see that you have it, my treasure." Lindir titled his head and closed his eyes as the king nuzzled his neck. "Mmm... perhaps some more of this as well." Thranduil chuckled and it tickled his neck. "I must meet with my advisers to discuss moving our city, but after that, I will do anything you ask of me." Lindir took Thranduil's face in his hands. "Oh good, I will hold you to that offer." He kissed his lover then released him. "Now, go. The sooner you conduct your business, the sooner you can come back to me." Thranduil winked and released Lindir, changing into dry, clean clothes before departing the talan. * * * * Lindir sat on a smooth rock, overlooking the small creek that provided water to Thranduil's folk. He listened to the sound of the water as it splashed over the rocky streambed and softly hummed to himself. He had not written a piece of music in weeks, but he had been composing without pause in his mind. He wondered what the wedding of his lord and lady had been like, and whether they had returned to Imladris yet. It had been three months since he and Gildor had left Lindon with Thranduil's party, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had not thought about Glorfindel in all that time. What once had occupied his every waking thought now seemed like a distant memory. He conjured the image of the golden warrior in his mind and he did feel a pang of loss in his heart. However, what he realized was that he had fallen out of love long ago, starting that day when he realized that Glorfindel really did love Erestor. He had first lived a dream, then lived a habit: he knew now that he had hung on to what no longer existed because being alone was too frightening. Was running from Glorfindel to Thranduil a mistake? Was he only with the king because he did not want to be alone? All of his life, he had someone to lean on: first his parents, then his friends, now Thranduil. He could not deny that what he felt for the king was powerful. There was a burning passion between them, and a deep, profound affection. He looked into Thranduil's eyes and saw what he had always hoped to see when he looked at Glorfindel. When he looked into his king's eyes, he saw unwavering love. Thranduil loved him and him only, and with a profound recognition, he realized he felt the same way about the Sinda King. Then there was Gildor; kind, generous Gildor who always gave more of himself than he accepted in return. Erestor would never have left him, and it was clear that the councilor loved him, yet Gildor walked away into an uncertain future just so Erestor could be with the one he loved above all others. How selfless an act. He offered a silent prayer to the Valar that Gildor would one day have a love that was worthy of his generous and kind spirit. "Lindir?" He turned and saw the prince standing off apace. "Yes, my liege?" "Do you wish to be alone?" "No, no," Lindir answered, sliding over and patting the rock beside him. "Come, join me." Legolas climbed onto the rock and sat beside the minstrel. "You and Gildor are going to be with us for awhile, yes?" "Yes, I think so. Gildor has promised your father he would help with the excavation of the caves." Legolas smiled. "I am glad that the two of you have come here to be with us. My father is happier now than he has been since the war, and I think that is because you are here." Lindir placed an arm around Legolas. "Thank you, my prince. It gives me comfort to know you feel that way." "Lindir?" "Yes?" "Would you teach me to sing?" "Of course. Would you like to learn how to play the harp as well?" Legolas beamed. "Yes! I would like that very much." "Once we are settled into our new home, I will make you a harp. What type of songs would you like to learn? Heroic odes, tributes to nature?" "Love songs." Lindir grinned. "Ah, yes. Love songs are always good to know. Is there an elleth or ellon you wish to serenade?" Legolas smiled. "Aye, an ellon. He is older than I am, but I would like to impress him with my voice. He has been a good friend and I wish to give him something that will make him happy." "Very well. Shall we begin now?" Legolas nodded enthusiastically. "Aye! I would like that very much." "Hmm... well I know of a romantic tune that I think would be fitting." Lindir began to softly sing a song he composed himself, long ago when he first fell in love with Glorfindel. To be continued...