Title:  Resurrection, 41/50
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 his folk receive bad news; Gildor returns to Imladris and 
remembers a promise.

Months after they found the location for their new home, excavation began on the 
hillside in the northeast of Greenwood.  Thranduil had a sense that soon the 
wood would no longer be safe; though where that sense came from he could not 
explain.  As long as the One Ring existed, danger existed, and it was left to 
him now to see those that remained of his folk were safe.  

First, they built flets in the trees surrounding the hills; they also struck 
tents as temporary shelters.  The warriors established a perimeter and secured 
it, though there was no obvious threat. Once they had proper living conditions 
established, excavation began.

Gildor was impressed with how Legolas chose to help with the work, rather than 
engage in games with his friends.  After his lessons were complete for the day, 
the prince would join the excavation party, offering what help he could - be 
that carrying water or moving small rocks.  Gildor was also impressed with 
Legolas' singing voice; it was clear that Lindir had been tutoring him in that 
regard.  Legolas sang songs of old, and every once in a while, Gildor heard him 
singing a love song.  

The task was well underway in the early autumn of the second year of the Third 
Age, when disturbing news came to Thranduil's folk via a messenger from Lórien.  
The marchwarden stood before the king and relayed news of a massacre of men near 
Sîr Ninglor, or the Gladden River as Men called it; Isildur, King of Arnor and 
Gondor, had been slain along with his party.  Thranduil felt his heart freeze in 
his chest.  

"Who, who has done this?" he asked.

"There was evidence left behind that it was orcs," the marchwarden answered.

Lindir watched the color drain from Thranduil's face, and then he turned to see 
a similar expression upon Gildor's face as well.  

"Thank you for relaying this information to me," Thranduil answered.  "Rest 
here, then return as quickly as you can to Lórien, I shall give you a message to 
bear to your lord."

The Silvan nodded, and then departed the king's company.

"What does this mean?" Lindir asked quietly.

"It means that the One Ring has either been taken by the orcs, in which case it 
will be returned to the Dark Lord, or it has been lost."

"It also means that there are orcs not far from here," Gildor answered.  "If 
they do not have the Ring, they will surely be looking for it."

Thranduil looked at Gildor.  "Word of this must be sent into the West.  Elrond, 
Celeborn, and Círdan must be made aware of this news."

Gildor nodded.  "Aye, I shall go.  I will ride to Imladris and inform Lord 
Elrond. I will cross the mountains using the High Pass, it is the fastest 
route."  He felt Legolas' slender hand in his own, squeezing it.  He looked down 
at the prince and saw the fear in his eyes.  Turning and kneeling down, he 
looked up into Legolas' eyes.  "Do not fear, my prince," he said softly.  "Stay 
by your father's side; he will protect you."

"I do not fear for myself," Legolas answered quietly.  "I fear for you."

"I know the way well, my prince.  I have faced worse in my life."

Legolas reached up and placed his arms around Gildor's neck.  "Please be 
careful," he whispered.

*    *    *    *

It was dawn as Gildor prepared to depart Greenwood.  When he descended the 
ladder from his talan, he found the prince waiting for him at the bottom.  
Setting down his pack, he placed his hands upon Legolas' slender shoulders.  
"Practice your archery while I am gone," he said quietly.

"I will," Legolas answered.  "Promise me you will return."

"I will, though I cannot say when that will be."

Legolas looked at the ground.  "I should never have told you how I felt," he 
murmured.  "You are afraid to be near me now."

Gildor knelt in front of the prince.  "No, no, my prince.  Never regret saying 
what is in your heart."

Legolas placed his hands on Gildor's face.  "I know not if I will see you again, 
and I know that you do not wish to hear this, but I must say it."  He placed his 
fingers on Gildor's lips, silencing him.  "I love you, I cannot explain how or 
why, I only know it to be true.  Yours is the first and only touch I want to 
know; yours are the first lips I want to kiss..."  He leaned in and placed a 
soft, chaste kiss upon the warrior's mouth.  With his eyes still closed he 
whispered, "I will wait for you, Gildor.  For deep in your heart, I know you 
feel the same."

Gildor was frozen to the spot.  He could taste the prince's lips upon his own 
and feel the soft, warm caress of Legolas' breath upon his mouth as he spoke.  
His heart pounded hard in his chest, his mind swam with the hearing of Legolas' 
voice.  The words were there, on the tip of his tongue, straining to come out, 
but something stopped them.  When he opened his eyes, the prince was gone, 
leaving him alone in the pale dawn light.

He mounted his horse and rode out of the camp just as the elves began to stir.  
He rode as hard and fast as his horse would carry him, his mind screaming at him 
to get away and his heart urging him to return.  He focused on his purpose and 
tried to forget that kiss, though he knew in his heart that he would remember it 
always.

*    *    *    *

Seeing Erestor for the first time was just as hard as he thought it would be.  
As he climbed the stairs to the Last Homely House, the doors opened and his 
former lover stepped through them.  He was just as beautiful as he remembered - 
no, more beautiful, for now his face was devoid of longing and lit only with 
love.  To see him so happy was both a blessing and a curse, for there was still 
a part of him that held onto what they once had.  

As they came together, they hesitated, each unsure of what to say or do, then 
finally Erestor reached out and embraced him, and Gildor leaned into Erestor's 
arms.  

"I have missed you," Erestor said softly, "we have all missed you.

"I have missed you," Gildor returned.

"'Tis good to have you home, Gildor.  Come, I know that Glorfindel will be 
anxious to see you, as will Lord Elrond."  He took the warrior's hand.

Gildor felt the ring that Erestor wore against his hand and he looked down.  
"You are bonded," he said softly.

Erestor paused, unsure what to say or do next.  "Aye, we are.  We were bonded in 
Lindon."

Gildor nodded.  "Then things are as they should be."

"Not quite," Erestor answered.  "I would see you happy 'ere I say that."

"I am happy."

"You are a liar."

Gildor smiled wryly.  "My unhappiness is not on your head, Erestor."

"I do not seek absolution, Gildor.  I care about you, I want you to be happy."

"And perhaps I will be, but at the moment there are too many things weighing on 
me."

"Such as?"

"Isildur is dead."

Erestor stopped in his tracks.  "What?  Where?  When?  How did it happen?"

Gildor looked at his former lover.  "Find Lord Elrond and Glorfindel.  I only 
want to tell this tale once."  

"Of course.  Go to council chambers, we will meet you there."

*    *    *    *

Elrond and Glorfindel persuaded Gildor to remain in Imladris and sent a 
messenger westward to Lindon.  Glorfindel convinced Gildor that he needed his 
help in fortifying Imladris borders; though in part it was a lie.  The haven of 
Imladris was now stronger and more protected than it ever had been, owing to 
Elrond's possession of Vilya.

The years passed and Mordor remained quiet.  The One Ring was lost and it 
appeared that the orcs had given up and left the Anduin Vale.  An uneasy peace 
settled in, though the Firstborn remained vigilant.  Gildor finally found 
comfort in the presence of his old friends, and it gave him joy to see his lord 
so happy in his marriage, but there was still something that tore at his heart.

At night, as he lay in his bed, he could hear Legolas' voice in his mind and see 
the prince's face as he closed his eyes.  He could not explain the longing he 
felt, for it was not sexual, but it was physical.  He longed to look into those 
bright, blue eyes, to hear that laugh that rang like bells in the wind, to 
witness the joy that the prince took in simple things like butterflies and 
grasshoppers.  He wondered what Legolas was like as time passed, how he was 
changing and what he was learning.  He also missed the tall trees and wildness 
of Greenwood, and he missed his friend Lindir.

Even though he came to accept and even take comfort in the love that was between 
Erestor and Glorfindel, Imladris no longer felt like home to him.  Too much had 
changed, and what had made it feel like home no longer existed.  He lost track 
of time, existing in a limbo of sorts, his days filled with training, his nights 
filled with uneasy sleep and a growing sense of restlessness.  He took as many 
patrols as he could without it seeming obvious that he was uncomfortable in the 
Last Homely House.  He wanted to be with his friends, but he also wanted to be 
somewhere else.

He was reviewing troop rosters when suddenly he had a realization.  Glorfindel 
looked at his friend and noted that Gildor was staring wide-eyed at the 
parchment.

"Is something amiss?" Glorfindel asked.

"Have I really been here for ten years?" Gildor asked.

Glorfindel chuckled.  "Ai, I never thought you were one prone to 
absentmindedness, my friend.  Yes, you have been here for ten years."

Gildor was seized with a growing sense of urgency.  "I must leave."

"What?  What do you mean?" Glorfindel asked with a furrowed brow.

"I must leave and return to Greenwood."

"Why?  Is something wrong?  Is it Lindir?"

"No.  No, Lindir is fine, according to his letters.  I made a promise to 
someone, and I must keep it."  He rose from his chair.  "You do not need me, 
Glorfindel.  We both know this.  I must go, and I would do so with your leave."

Glorfindel nodded.  "Aye, if you must leave, then you have my blessing.  I shall 
inform Lord Elrond."

Gildor smiled.  "Thank you, Glorfindel.  I shall not forget this.  Please, 
explain to Erestor; tell him that I had to leave and it is not his fault."  He 
departed the room, making for his chambers to prepare for his journey.

*    *    *    *

"What do you mean he is leaving?  Why?  What is this promise he spoke of?" 
Erestor asked, his hands on his hips as he watched his beloved undress.

"I do not know.  He merely said he had to return to Greenwood and that he had 
made a promise to someone."  Glorfindel looked at his mate with a raised 
eyebrow.  "Does it upset you that he is leaving?"

"Of course it does!" Erestor barked.  "He is our friend.  Why does it not upset 
you?"

"Because it is what he wants, and I want him to be happy.  He has not really 
been happy here, Erestor.  You must know that."

"But he could have been, given time."

Glorfindel walked toward his mate, placing his hands on Erestor's shoulders.  
"You cannot always feel responsible for him, Erestor.  You cannot spend the rest 
of your life trying to make up for what happened.  He is not leaving because of 
you."

"I know," Erestor murmured.  "But I have to try to regain some of that bond.  I 
have to try to remain his friend."

Glorfindel placed a kiss upon his mate's forehead.  "Then let him go.  Gildor 
knows what he needs better than we do."

Erestor wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's waist.  "I know you are right.  I 
just wish things could be as they used to be for all of us."

"Things will never be the same, but one day they will be good again, my love.  I 
promise."  He nuzzled Erestor's ear. "Mmm... you smell good."

Erestor smiled and leaned into his lover.  "So do you."

"I smell like a horse, I am sure."

"I rather like that scent," Erestor answered softly.  He looked up into 
Glorfindel's eyes.  "There is nothing about you that I do not like."

Glorfindel grinned.  "Careful, councilor.  You shall give me an overly important 
view of myself."

Erestor chuckled.  "Well then, I shall have to remind you who the master is in 
this relationship."

Glorfindel winked.  "Oh, really?"

Erestor shoved his lover to the bed.  "Prepare to be taught a lesson, Elda."





Title:  Resurrection, 42/50
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 returns to Greenwood.

Legolas sat on a tree branch, his legs dangling down as his gaze was fixed on 
the wide grasslands that surrounded the Anduin.  He had sat in that same place 
nearly every day  for the past five years, since he had been old enough to be a 
guard.  The only time he had left his post was when his captain forced him to 
return home for rest.  He had trained diligently with the bow and his weapon of 
choice, long knives.  His father had passed on what Glorfindel had taught him, 
and Legolas was becoming a skilled warrior.

He was two years past his majority; there had been a grand celebration in the 
caves wherein Lindir had performed just for him, and there had been a long line 
of suitors.  Yet he rebuffed them all, preferring to wait however long it took 
for the one he had loved for the last ten years.

He noted the way the tall grass swayed in the wind, it reminded him of the waves 
of the sea when he had been in Lindon.  The wind softly sang as it rustled the 
leaves and small branches of the trees, and Ithil shown brightly, casting a 
silver glow upon the tall grass.  He heard something faint upon the wind, a 
rhythmic thudding; it was a horse's hooves.  Slowly, he gained his feet, his 
gaze fixed westward as he heard the approaching beast.  On the horizon, a lone 
horse appeared, carrying an elf upon its back.  As they grew nearer, the horse 
splashed though a shallow part of the river and clambered up the bank.  The elf 
who rode upon it had flowing pale hair that was a fair gold, and he wore gray 
and green, the colors of an elf-ranger.

His breath caught in his chest and he squeezed the trunk of the tree with his 
fingers.  "Please," he whispered to the wind.  "Let it be him."

"My lord, a lone elf approaches," one of his guard called, readying his bow.

"Lower your weapon," Legolas answered as a smile began to curve his lips.  "I 
know this elf."  He leapt down from the tree to the path below.

*    *    *    *

Gildor slowed his stallion to a walk as he approached the western edge of the 
forest.  His palms were sweating in his gloves and his heart was racing.  His 
mount picked up on his nervousness, and had galloped faster in response.  Now 
both were breathing heavily and he stroked his horse's neck in an effort to calm 
him.  "There is no danger here, my friend," he murmured, bringing the horse to a 
halt and sliding off his back.  As they found the trailhead and entered the 
wood, a small band of Silvan elves stepped out from the trees.  He held up his 
hand in greeting.  

A tall elf, with a gleaming flaxen mane appeared among the lighter-haired wood-
elves.  Eyes that had haunted his dreams gazed back into his own and his breath 
caught in his throat.  "Legolas?" he asked in disbelief.

The elf smiled and walked toward him.  "Aye, it is me," he said, then Gildor 
found himself wrapped in the elf's arms.

"Valar," he whispered.  "Let me look at you."  He pulled back and gazed upon the 
prince.  "You are beautiful," he said softly.  "You are so tall..."

Legolas smiled.  "I am grown now.  And you look just the same as you once did."  
He squeezed Gildor's shoulders.  "You came back, just like you promised."

Gildor caressed the prince's face.  "I could not stay away."  He watched as 
Legolas pressed his face into his hand and he saw the silent request in the 
prince's eyes.  "Elbereth, I have missed you so," he murmured, and then he drew 
the prince's lips to his own.

The other elves looked on for a moment, eyebrows raised and grins forming on 
their lips.  Then they each disappeared into the bush, leaving their prince and 
his love alone.

The kiss was everything Legolas imagined it would be, warm, and soft, yet 
possessive at the same time, and it was deliciously tempting.  He slowly opened 
his mouth and could not stop the soft moan that escaped him as Gildor's tongue 
entered it.  He slid his hands into Gildor's hair and leaned into his strong 
arms.  It felt so good; it felt like home.

Gildor hungrily consumed the prince's mouth.  He was stunned by how quickly 
passion took hold, and how badly he found he wanted Legolas.  Soon, the 
recollection of where they were caused him to slowly withdraw, leaving both 
himself and his prince breathless.

"Come," Legolas murmured.  "I shall take you home."

"Yes," Gildor answered.  "I am in dire need of one."

Legolas smiled.  "It is a three day journey to the caves from here, on 
horseback.  Longer on foot."

"Do you have a horse here?"

"No.  We are here for weeks at a time.  'Tis easier if we walk."

Gildor took the prince's hand.  "Then we shall both ride mine."

Legolas mounted first, and then Gildor climbed up behind his prince.  They 
walked slowly for some time, until Ithil began to sink behind the mountains.  As 
it grew too dark for the horse to see the unfamiliar path, they found a place to 
make camp for the night.

Legolas spread out his bedroll, then took Gildor's as well, using it as a cover.  
He laid down and looked up at his warrior, then reached out for him.

Gildor took Legolas' hand and lay beside him, propping himself up on one arm as 
he drew Legolas closer with his free hand.  He gazed into the prince's eyes, 
pushing his soft, flaxen hair behind his shoulders.  "How did you know?" he 
asked softly.

Legolas smiled, trailing his fingers over the laces of Gildor's tunic.  "I do 
not know; I just somehow felt it.  I knew when I saw you that we were meant to 
be together."

"It frightened me because you were so young," Gildor answered.  "And because I 
was not ready then."

Legolas nodded.  "I understand.  I should not have told you then."

"I am glad you did.  It has been nearly all I have thought about since I last 
left these woods; it is what brought me back to them."

"I have waited for you," Legolas answered quietly.  "I am untouched; your kiss 
is the only one I have ever known, and your touch will be the same."

"I want you," Gildor answered, leaning in close.  "But I want our first time to 
be perfect."

"Is this not perfect?" Legolas murmured, softly kissing Gildor's neck as his 
hand slid to the warrior's hip.  "We are alone, beneath the trees."

"There are things that I want to do, that I am not prepared to do," Gildor 
replied huskily.  "But there are many other things we can do instead."

"Teach me," Legolas purred.  "Touch me.  I need you to touch me."

Gildor slid his hand around the back of Legolas' neck and drew him into a deep, 
possessive kiss, plundering the prince's mouth as he pressed their bodies 
together.  The plaintive moan that escaped Legolas immediately caused his body 
to respond.  He drew the prince's thigh up over his hip, pressing their groins 
together as he drank from Legolas' mouth.  His prince responded by rolling his 
hips forward, and Gildor could feel the urgent need in Legolas' body.  

He fumbled with the laces on the prince's tunic, pulling it aside and tugging on 
his undershirt.  Legolas pulled away from him and whispered, "Wait."  Then he 
watched as the Sinda began removing his clothes.  He followed suit, quickly 
divesting himself of his garments and setting them aside, then he took in the 
sight of Legolas' nude form.

Never had he seen anything more alluring.  His prince's body was still young, 
though well on its way to maturity.  He was long-limbed and lanky, yet finely 
muscled.  Years of running, climbing, and firing a bow had formed Legolas' body 
into a tautly chiseled, elegant display of lean muscle and alabaster flesh.  
Dusky, pebbled nipples begged to be licked and suckled, and his long, turgid, 
silken arousal strained to be touched.  

"Valar," Gildor murmured.  "Never have I seen one more beautiful in all of my 
days."  He gasped as Legolas' hands came to rest on his chest.  

"I have dreamed of this," Legolas responded.  "I have wanted to touch you for so 
long."  He pressed his mouth to Gildor's chest, and smiled as the elf-lord 
sighed and arched into his kiss.  Gasping as Gildor rolled him to his back, he 
arched and moaned aloud as his lover's lips suckled a painfully erect nipple.  
He fisted Gildor's hair, arching and undulating against him; his body thrumming 
with unsated desire.  "Oh gods that feels good," he whispered huskily.

Gildor smiled as he released a pert nipple, laving it with his tongue as Legolas 
shivered beneath him.  "This is but a taste of the pleasure to come, my love," 
he answered, then he moved lower to the prince's flat abdomen.

Legolas arched and moaned beneath him as he savored his lover's body.  He tasted 
so good, smelled so good, felt so good.  It had been a long, long time since he 
wanted another so badly.  He took Legolas' arousal into his mouth and the prince 
cried out, wrapping one leg around his shoulders as he tightened his grip on his 
hair.  'Yes, my love,' he thought to himself.  'I have much to teach you and I 
will enjoy each lesson to the fullest.' 

Legolas' breath came in harsh, short gasps as his lover worked his arousal with 
his mouth.  Gildor gripped his length at the base, and as his body tightened, 
his lover squeezed it, preventing him from spilling.  On and on it went, Legolas 
begged and struggled to thrust into that wet heat, and Gildor continued in his 
delicious torment.  Finally, as Legolas was near tears, Gildor released him and 
he spilled his seed down his lover's throat. 

He collapsed upon the bedroll, his skin and hair damp with sweat, his body 
tingling from head to toe.  He sighed as Gildor gathered him into his arms and 
held him close; their bare skin touching felt so right.  Gildor pulled the 
second bedroll up to cover them and Legolas snuggled against his lover.

"That was . . . I . . . I want to do it again," Legolas murmured.

Gildor chuckled.  "Yes, it was remarkable."

"What of you?" the prince asked sleepily.

"I can wait, my love.  I have waited ten years, what is a few hours to me now?"  
He caressed Legolas' hair.  "Sleep in my arms; we have the rest of our lives to 
be together."

Legolas nodded sleepily and closed his eyes, sliding into a contented reverie.

*    *    *    *

Legolas awoke to the first stirrings of birds.  It was twilight, and a gentle 
breeze stirred the branches of the tall trees overhead.  Gildor's horse was 
lying down not too far away, eyes closed and breathing deeply in its slumber.  
His lover's warm, bare skin felt so good against his own; the elf lord's woodsy 
scent mingled with the aroma of spruce and fir that drifted upon the breeze.  

Legolas took advantage of Gildor's slumbering and peaceful state to explore the 
warrior's body.  He traced each muscle, each rib with his fingers, delving into 
the indentation of his stomach and the smooth crease where his legs met his 
torso.  His lover had a fine body, muscled and defined, lean and elegant, with 
soft alabaster skin.  Lying there with him, touching him, and being held by him 
brought a smile to Legolas' lips.  It was just as he had dreamed it would be.  

As his fingertips softly caressed his lover's slumbering length, he felt his own 
stir.  Memories of the fire that had roared through his body, of Gildor's warm, 
wet mouth drawing his essence from him, of the possessive kisses and caresses 
the Noldo had bestowed upon him were fresh in his mind.  He tingled deep inside, 
feeling an ache born of want and need tugging at his core.  

Some might have found it strange that there was no formal courtship.  There was 
no need for one; they had been courting in one form or another for over ten 
years.  He knew from the day he was able to form his first self-conscious 
thought that he had been born for something extraordinary - this love he felt 
was part of it, but what the rest was he did not know.

Softly, he wrapped his fingers around his lover's length, sliding his hand from 
base to tip, feeling it stir beneath his ministrations.  Gildor moaned quietly 
and began to stir.  His lover's exhausted body and spirit would heal now, 
Legolas knew.  Gildor had once been afraid to love again; he had, after all, 
made a sacrifice.  That Gildor cared enough for Erestor to let him go, despite 
the pain it caused him, was one of the reasons Legolas loved him, and because 
the warrior had done that, Legolas knew he was capable of loving again.  He 
pressed his lips to Gildor's chest, slowly opening his mouth and laving the 
Noldo's skin with his tongue.  Gildor tasted so good: slightly salty and clean, 
and Legolas savored it. 

Gildor awoke to his young lover's attentions, rolling to his side and cradling 
the prince's head in his hands.  "Yes, my love," he whispered.  "Just like that, 
slowly, now squeeze a little..."

Legolas continued to explore Gildor's chest with his mouth, tasting him, gently 
suckling his pebbled nipples as he followed the warrior's instructions.  

"Squeeze the tip," Gildor murmured huskily, then gasped softly.  "Oh, yes, like 
that, just like that.  Valar that feels good."

Legolas nipped a pert bud, then smiled as Gildor groaned in response, arching 
into him as he began thrusting into his hand.  "Do I please you?" He whispered 
sultrily, his own body aching and needing Gildor's touch.

"Oh yes," Gildor answered, reaching down and drawing Legolas' mouth to his own.  
"My prince," he murmured possessively, then he wrapped one leg over Legolas' hip 
and pressed a punishing kiss to the Sinda's lips.

"I am yours," Legolas whispered as Gildor released his mouth, moving to suckle 
his lover's throat as he felt Gildor's body begin to tighten against him.  "I 
have saved myself for you," he murmured, briefly tracing a vein that bulged in 
Gildor's neck with his tongue.  "I have not even gone so far as to touch myself.  
My body never knew pleasure until last night."

Gildor's head was swimming, his heart was racing; it was all too much.  Too much 
innocence, too much unabashed sensuality, too much needful, wanton desire to be 
contained in one so young, one so beautiful.  Gildor growled as he climaxed, his 
hot essence spilling over Legolas' long, slender fingers.  His lover purred in 
appreciation, then slipped from his arms and began lapping up the seed from his 
stomach and his groin.  Long, hot, wet caresses of his prince's tongue 
accompanied by the deep, rumbling, purring sounds his lover made nearly made him 
hard again.  "By the Valar," he whispered.  "I am utterly, hopelessly, 
completely in love with you."

Legolas made his way back up the length of Gildor's sated body and caressed his 
lover's face with his hands.  "As I am with you," he answered quietly, then he 
kissed his beloved long and slow.





Title:  Resurrection, 43/50
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: Legolas and Gildor take their first steps in a life journey.


Gildor watched the iron gates slowly groan open and they crossed a bridge 
leading into a courtyard.  Overhead there was an opening in the rock, filled in 
by leaded glass, which allowed some light into the area.  Tunnels branched off 
in three directions, one of which had daylight at the other end.  Torches burned 
brightly on the walls, sputtering occasionally, as a gentle breeze moved about 
in the space.  It reminded him of his old home long ago, shadowed, yet some how 
comforting.  He slid off his mount's back first and then helped Legolas down.  
Large wooden doors opened at the top of a staircase that was carved into the 
rock, and Thranduil appeared.  He smiled as he saw his old friend, then allowed 
Legolas to lead him to the king. 

"Look what I found roaming the western border," Legolas said with a smile.

Thranduil laughed and extended his arms, embracing Gildor with a hardy pat on 
the back.  "'Tis time you returned.  I began to fear that Legolas would take up 
permanent residence at the western post waiting for you."

Gildor stepped back and clasped Thranduil's shoulders.  "Forgive me for tarrying 
so long," he said.  "I have missed my dear friends greatly."

"As we have missed you.  I know Lindir will be most glad to see you."

"Where is he now?" Gildor asked.

"In his music room.  Legolas will show you the way."

Gildor bowed his head as he took leave of the king, and allowed his young lover 
to lead him to his friend.

Lindir sat on a low backed chair with a large stringed instrument balanced 
between his legs.  It stood upright, balanced on a spike that came out of the 
bottom.  It was made of wood with a hollow body and four strings that ran the 
length of it.  The body was wide and curved, somewhat like an hourglass, and it 
had a long neck piece to which the strings were attached.  Four pegs were at its 
head, and the minstrel drew what looked like a bow across it; it was unlike 
anything Gildor had seen before.  The sound it made filled the room with a warm, 
deep, vibrating sound.  Lindir slowly rocked back and forth, seemingly dancing 
with the instrument as he drew the bow across the strings.  It was the most 
beautiful music that Gildor had ever heard.

"He made it himself," Legolas whispered.  "He took the idea from the strange 
instruments called fiddles that the Lake Men play."

"The Lake Men?" Gildor queried in a hushed voice.

"Aye.  There is a small township near the lake just outside the boundary of the 
woods.  We trade with them from time to time."

Gildor nodded and then they stood quietly and listened to Lindir play.  It had 
been years since Gildor had watched his good friend lose himself in his music.  
Music transformed Lindir, taking him away to a place that no one else seemed to 
be able to reach.  Gildor smiled as he watched his friend rock slowly back and 
forth, eyes closed, a smile curving his lips.  When he finished, he lowered the 
bow and opened his eyes, smiling to himself in satisfaction.  

Lindir turned when he heard applause, expecting to find his lover standing 
behind him.  What he found instead was his good friend Gildor.  "Gildor!" he 
exclaimed, gently leaning his instrument against the wall and quickly crossing 
the room.

Gildor embraced Lindir tightly.  "That was extraordinary," he said softly.  "I 
have never heard anything like it."

Lindir stepped back, resting his hands on Gildor's shoulders.  "I love the sound 
it makes.  I was not sure it would work when I made it, but after a few tries, 
it came out like the way I hoped.  I like to think that if music had feelings, 
they would sound like that."

Gildor nodded.  "Aye, I do believe you are right.  It is beautiful."

"It is so good to have you back," Lindir said softly, giving his friend's 
shoulders a squeeze.  He smiled then turned and kissed Legolas on the cheek.  
"'Tis good to have you home."

Legolas smiled.  "'Tis good to be home.  I am looking forward to a warm bath."

"I must plan a welcoming celebration for you, Gildor.  Legolas, will you arrange 
guest quarters for him while I speak with the kitchen staff?"

"Of course," Legolas replied, stepping aside as Lindir made his way to the door 
of the music room.  

Lindir paused and looked back over his shoulder.  "I would like to hear of how 
our friends in Imladris are - at dinner perhaps?"

Gildor nodded.  "Of course, I will give you a full report."  He smiled as he 
watched his friend leave the room.  It had been a long time since he had seen 
Lindir so content and happy.

"Come," Legolas said softly.  "I think you should stay with me."

"Do you not think I should take quarters of my own?  At least until I have had 
the opportunity to speak with your father."

"About what?"

"About my intentions."

"Intentions?"

"Yes, my intentions toward you, my love."

Legolas chuckled.  "Oh, Gildor.  That is so proper."

Gildor raised an eyebrow.  "I will not make a display of us being lovers until 
your father gives his blessing.  It is the right thing to do.  You may be old at 
heart, but you are still young of age, and it is proper and expected that I 
enter into a formal agreement of courtship with your father's permission."

Legolas wrapped his arms around Gildor's shoulders.  "This is why I love you.  
You always do the right thing."

Gildor held his lover in his arms, breathing in his fresh, clean scent and 
enjoying the way Legolas' hair felt against his cheek.  "I try to, at any rate," 
he answered.

"Very well, there are guest quarters near mine where you can sleep.  But I warn 
you, I plan on warming your bed every night that you stay here."

Gildor smiled.  "You will get no complaint from me on that accord."  He drew 
Legolas' lips to his own.  "Now, how about that bath?" he murmured against the 
prince's lips.

"Yes," Legolas whispered.  "Let us stow your belongings, then I will show you 
the way."  He took his lover's hand and led him from the music room back out 
into the corridor.

*    *    *   *

Gildor entered the steam-filled room where the king's private baths were 
located.  Warm, mineral rich water flowed out of an opening in the cave wall 
into a pool where fissures in the rock below caused it to swirl and bubble.  He 
removed the robe that had been provided to him in his guest quarters, and hung 
it on a peg beside the door, then he stepped into the warm pool of water and 
sighed.  The elves had done a masterful job.  The pool's bottom was smooth, and 
benches had been carved into the rock where the king and his guests could sit 
and enjoy the healing waters.  A small basket sat at the edge that contained 
various soaps with which to bathe, and against one wall was a long, smooth bench 
carved out of cedar where one could rest outside of the water and enjoy the 
steam.  Scented candles were held in lanterns that hung on the walls, giving off 
the aroma of lavender.

He washed his hair and cleansed his skin, then sat on a bench and leaned his 
head back against the smooth stone and waited for his princely lover.  He heard 
the door creak open and then heard the latch click shut.  Opening his eyes, he 
saw Legolas enter the room and then he watched as the prince slowly shed his 
robe, revealing his exquisite body. 

Legolas smiled as he waded into the water, dipping below the surface, then 
coming back up, wiping the water from his face as he smiled at Gildor.  He 
entwined his fingers and pushed the heels of his hands together, shooting a 
burst of water at his lover's face.  He laughed as Gildor chuckled and splashed 
water back at him.  A warm smile curved his lips as he waded toward the Noldo. 

"Father is in council and Lindir is busy with the staff, so you and I will not 
be interrupted for quite some time," he said with a sensual grin.  "You still 
have much to teach me."

Gildor smiled in return, placing his hands on his young lover's hips as Legolas 
stepped up to stand between his legs.  "Aye, I do," he murmured, as the prince 
placed his hands on the edge of the pool and leaned down for a kiss.  Just being 
near Legolas caused Gildor's heart to race like that of a youth near his first 
love.  He allowed Legolas to control the kiss, opening his mouth wide as the 
prince's tongue slid inside.  He moaned deeply, his fingers clutching the 
Sinda's hips and drawing him closer.

"I love you," Legolas whispered as their lips parted and he knelt down in the 
water so that he and Gildor were at eye level.

"I love you too," Gildor answered, warmth filling his heart.  "There is so much 
I want to say, so much I want to thank you for."

Legolas straddled Gildor and sat in his lap.  "Such as?"

"Such as being brave enough to tell me our future so long ago."

Legolas smiled.  "Your reaction frightened me; I thought I had made a mistake."

"You must understand, my love, you were so young.  It was a conversation that 
seemed so dangerous."

"Dangerous because you knew I was right."

Gildor nodded.  "Aye, I did; and that is why I was afraid.  To be in love with 
one of only forty years, one whose body had not yet caught up to his fëa."

"You never would have done anything to hurt me; you would have waited, even if 
you had stayed."

Gildor took Legolas' face in his hands.  "It would have been a hard wait, my 
love.  Watching you grow, watching you change, feeling the day grow ever closer.  
I am afraid I might have been tempted..."

"I know you, Gildor Inglorion," Legolas murmured against the warrior's lips.  
"You would have never..."

"But I can now," Gildor answered huskily, and he pressed a possessive kiss to 
his lover's lips.





Title:  Resurrection, 44/?
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: Legolas and Gildor take their first steps in a life journey.

“Take me,” Legolas breathed as Gildor released his mouth, “please.”

“Not here, not yet,” Gildor answered.

“Why not?” Legolas murmured against the curve of Gildor’s ear.

“I want to make love to you in bed, where it will be most comfortable for you, and I will not go so far until I plead my 
case to your father.”

“And what will that case be?  My lord, I ask your permission to breech your son?” Legolas teased with a grin. 

“Legolas!”

The prince chuckled.  “No, I suppose you are right.  That would not be the proper way to approach the subject.”

“I will ask your father for permission to court you.”

Legolas rolled his eyes even as he smiled.  “You have already touched me, kissed me, and tasted me, what is this one 
last step?”

“A very serious one, my prince,” Gildor murmured.  “You will understand when we finally join.”

“Then let me taste you,” Legolas whispered, pulling back and looking into Gildor’s darkening eyes.  He could feel the 
need in his lover’s body, and he yearned to satisfy it.

Gildor lifted himself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool, watching as Legolas knelt on the bench between 
his legs.  “Do you know what to do?”

Legolas looked up at Gildor with a smile.  “I think I can figure it out.”

Gildor smiled in return.  “Go slowly, and do not be afraid to stop.”  He closed his eyes and leaned back against one 
hand, cupping Legolas head with the other.  A sharp hiss escaped his lips as the prince’s tongue slid along his rapidly 
swelling length. He shifted position, tilting his hips up as his head fell back, and he moaned as Legolas explored his 
arousal.  “Yes,” he whispered, his fingers gently massaging the prince’s wet scalp, “like that, just like that.”

Legolas swirled his tongue around his lover’s turgid length, focusing on the tip and the ridge beneath before traveling 
back down to its root.  He opened his mouth and took Gildor in slowly, a bit deeper with each pass, stroking what he 
could not accommodate with his hand.  Remembering what Gildor had done to him, he tried to mimic the action, but 
was careful that he did not choke himself.  The deep rumbling moans and growls that came from his lover caused his 
own body to tingle and ache.  He felt gentle pressure on the back of his head and he tried to relax his throat and take 
Gildor deeper, reaching in between his own legs to stroke his own aching length.

Gildor gently and slowly rocked his hips, wadding Legolas’ hair in his fingers, resisting the urge to thrust into his 
young lover’s mouth.  He could feel it coming, the burning, roaring fire that would consume him as he climaxed.  
Legolas began moaning, sending vibrations along his length, and he arched his back and growled deeply as he spilled 
down the prince’s throat. 

Legolas began to swallow as he felt Gildor’s length twitch inside his mouth, his own seed spilling over his hand and 
floating away into the water.  As he withdrew, he licked his lover clean, then licked his lips and looked up at him.  A 
smile curved Legolas’ lips as he gazed at Gildor: his lover’s head hung back, his chest heaved as he panted, his taut 
nipples achingly erect, and his luscious lips parted as his breathing slowed.  He made his way up Gildor’s body, placing 
kisses on his stomach and chest, pausing to lave a hard nipple and hear Gildor’s purring response, before clasping the 
back of his lover’s head and drawing him into a kiss.

As they parted, Gildor opened his eyes and looked at his prince.  Legolas’ eyes were closed and a smile curved his lips.  
Cupping Legolas’ cheek, he caressed his lover’s cheekbone with his thumb and murmured, “So beautiful…”

“So loved,” Legolas finished.  “You make me feel as if I can do anything.”

Gildor smiled.  “I believe you could.”

Legolas opened his eyes.  “Take me to bed; let us finish what we have started.  Let us finally become one, once and for 
all.”

Gildor pressed his lips to Legolas’ ear.  “Soon, my prince.”  Then he took Legolas by the hand and led him from the 
baths.

*    *    *    *

Lindir stood bent over his desk, rifling through sheets of music, trying to select just the right pieces for the evening’s 
reception.  He jumped as he felt strong hands upon his hips, then smiled as his lover’s lips caressed his neck.  “I will 
never get used to that,” he said softly.

“To what?” Thranduil murmured.

“To how you can come up behind me without me hearing you.”

The king chuckled.  “I am a warrior, that is one of the things that keeps me alive.”

“And that is just how I would have you stay,” Lindir responded, turning in his king’s arms and caressing Thranduil’s 
face.  “You look particularly mischievous at the moment.”

“I have a short amount of time between council meetings.  What say you to an afternoon romp in our bed?”  He 
winked.

Lindir grinned and laughed softly.  “I say you are incorrigible.”

Thranduil winked.  “This has been established.  But in my own defense, I must protest that I could be no other way 
with you.”

Lindir took Thranduil’s face in his hands.  “I love you,” he said softly.

Thranduil slid his hands over Lindir’s firm backside.  “And I love you, my treasure.”

“Mmm… yes, I think I would like an afternoon romp.  Will you use me well?”

Thranduil suckled Lindir’s earlobe, causing the minstrel to purr in appreciation.  “Aye, most well, my songbird.”

“Then let us be about it,” Lindir whispered sultrily into the king’s ear.  He leaned into Thranduil, pressing his 
burgeoning arousal into the king’s hip.  “For as you can see, you have already worked me into quite a state.”

“I am a firm believer in finishing what I start,” Thranduil murmured.  He took Lindir by the hand and led him to their 
chambers.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil sat at his desk, looking somewhat like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary, when he heard a soft 
knock upon his door.  “Come,” he answered, signing a trade document between his people and the Lake Men.  He 
looked up to see Gildor enter and he smiled, rising from his chair and rounding the desk to take the warrior’s hand.  
“You look refreshed,” he said with a smile.

“The bath was just what I needed after so long a trip,” Gildor responded, sitting in a tall chair at Thranduil’s request.  

“I have much to discuss with you,” Thranduil began as he sat down and folded his hands together.  “I am hoping that 
you have come to tell me you will stay and make Greenwood your home.”

Gildor smiled.  “Aye, my lord.  I would like to make Greenwood my home, if you will have me.”

“Of course, my friend!  You are not only an asset to me, but you are a trusted friend and adviser.  I have been thinking, 
I would be indebted to you if you would help lead my forces…”  Gildor frowned and Thranduil stopped speaking for a 
moment.  “What is it, Gildor?”

“I . . . I am no longer sure that I have the stomach for warfare, my lord.  After the last one…”

Thranduil held up his hand.  “Say no more, Gildor.  You lost a dear friend, your king, in that battle.”

“And you lost your father.”

“Aye, I did.  I suppose we all lost more than we were prepared for.  However, it is my duty to protect my people, not 
yours.  I understand.”

Gildor nodded.  “I would be happy to train your soldiers, and assist and advise you in battle tactics.”

Thranduil smiled.  “And I would be most happy to accept your offer and your experience.”

“Actually, I have come here for a different purpose.”

“And what would that be?”

Gildor felt his heart skip and he took a deep breath.  Suddenly, he was very nervous.  “I have come to ask your 
permission to . . . court Legolas.”

Thranduil sat back in his chair, raising one golden eyebrow.  “You ask this of me?  My son has just become an adult.  
You certainly waste no time, Gildor, Son of Inglor.”  Thranduil watched as the color drained from Gildor’s face. 

Gildor’s eyes widened.  “I assure you, my lord, I never once…”

Unable to sustain the ruse, Thranduil bit back a chuckle and raised his hand.  “And I never once suspected that you did.  
You must pardon me for having a bit of fun at your expense.”  Gildor sighed in relief and relaxed back into his chair, 
and Thranduil continued, “I had suspected that the nature of your friendship with my son might change once he grew to 
adulthood.  I have long known about how Legolas felt about you, and upon seeing the two of you together, I saw that 
you felt the same way.”

“Then I do not need to assure you that my intentions toward the prince are entirely honorable and genuine.”

“Indeed you do not.  You have my blessing to court my son, and I hope that courtship proves to be fruitful.  Welcoming 
you into our family would be a great honor.”

Gildor breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.  “The honor would also be mine, my lord.”

“Gildor.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I think it is time that you start calling me by my name.”

Gildor smiled.  “Indeed.  Thank you, Thranduil.”

Thranduil smiled in return and nodded as Gildor rose, bowed, and departed.





Title:  Resurrection, 45/?
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: Legolas and Gildor take their first steps in a life journey.

Gildor entered his chambers and found Legolas lying on his bed dressed in a thin silken robe.  The prince lay on his 
side, his head propped on one hand, the other hand on his hip.  Legolas had an undeniably alluring nature, one that was 
augmented by his recent sexual experience.  The Sinda had a way of looking at him that turned his blood into liquid 
heat, while taking his breath away at the same time.  

“Well?  May I assume my father was amenable to your proposal?”

Gildor threw the latch on the door and began unbuttoning the clasps on his tunic.  “Aye.  It seems that he knew what 
would happen when we were reunited.  How could he know such a thing?”

Legolas smiled sensually.  “Well, I made my feelings no secret to him or to Lindir.  Admittedly, they were both 
concerned that one of my tender years was speaking so amorously, but as time passed and my feelings did not waiver, 
they understood.”

“I see.  So while I was gone you were pining for me?” Gildor asked, a feral grin curving his lips as he tossed his tunic 
on a chair and approached the bed.

Legolas lifted his chin, his darkening eyes tracking Gildor’s every move.  “Aye, pine I did.  I sang songs, wrote poems, 
had imaginary conversations with you.  I had memorized the way you smell and the sound of your voice, so that I felt 
as though you were with me, even when you were so far away.”  He slowly pulled on the silken belt that held his robe 
closed, and it slid open, revealing his nude body.  “I was and am in love with you.”

Gildor stepped out of the remainder of his garments and mounted the bed, straddling Legolas as the prince rolled to his 
back.

“Now you are here,” Legolas said softly, “and I need pine no more.”

Gildor lowered himself so that their bodies touched and he gazed deeply into Legolas’ eyes.  “You are not afraid of 
anything, are you?” he murmured.

“Only losing you,” Legolas replied, sliding his hand to the back of Gildor’s neck and drawing him down for a kiss.  
Legolas parted his legs, raising them high on Gildor’s hips and wrapping them around his lover.  “It is time, my love, 
time for us to become one.”

“Are you sure, Legolas?” Gildor murmured.  “You are still so young, there is so much you have yet to experience.”

“All that lies ahead of me I want to share with you.  I have never been more sure of anything in all of my life.”

“I intend to give all of myself to you, the good and the bad, the pleasure and the pain.  You may see and feel things that 
you are not ready for.”

Legolas smiled.  “Can one ever be ready for such?  I am not afraid; I know you, Gildor.”

“How can you?  We have just begun to know one another.”

“Acts are not who you are.  What you have been through has surely helped to shape you, but beneath that, there is an 
essential being – that is who I know; that is whom I love.  But, for us to go forward, I must know it all, and you must 
feel what I feel, so that you can let go of your doubts.  What you need, I can give, Gildor.  What I need, you can teach.  
This is right; beneath the fear, beneath the doubt, you know I speak true.” 

Gildor looked into the prince’s eyes and saw the truth in them, and he also saw the love.  “Very well, my love,” he 
murmured against Legolas’ lips.  “Have all of me.”  He pressed a deep, possessive kiss to his lover’s mouth.

Their bodies moved in concert, skin sliding against skin, arms and legs entwined, mouths consuming, hands gripping, 
their voices filling the room as they gave voice to their mounting passion.  Legolas whispered pleading words, plaintive 
moans floating in Gildor’s ears until he thought he would go mad.  His fingers closed on a phial of oil that Legolas had 
brought and placed by the bed.  Separating himself from his young lover long enough to prepare himself, he then lay 
back down and slid a slick hand between the prince’s legs.  He focused his gaze on the long line of Legolas’ throat and 
the pulsing of a vein; his tongue laved the spot, then his teeth marked it as he slid a single, oiled digit inside his lover’s 
body.

Legolas gasped as his lover’s teeth marked his flesh and his body was entered for the first time.  There was no pain, not 
yet, that would follow; there was only the overwhelming sensation of wanting and needing more.  Words came without 
thought, he begged and pleaded, his own impassioned requests taking him by surprise.  He had never wanted anything 
more than to be entered and possessed by Gildor, to be taken apart and changed into someone new.  A second digit 
joined the first and a slight stinging sensation caused him to flinch, but he quickly settled, suckling the point of Gildor’s 
ear and causing his lover to growl with want.  He cried out, his body arching of its own volition as fire roared through 
his body.  His fingers dug into Gildor’s back and his arousal twitched against his stomach and began to weep.  

Gildor turned his head, his mouth next to the prince’s ear and he murmured, “Feels good, does it not?  Like somehow 
pleasure and pain have become one and blotted out everything else?”

Legolas could not speak.  He merely nodded then cried out again as Gildor found his mark.  Whimpering pleas left his 
lips and unshed tears stung his eyes; he did not know what he expected, but this surely was not it.  Pain and pleasure, 
that is what he felt; it was an exquisite pain, the kind that left one weak yet wanting more, the kind that could only 
come from love.  He was spread further, his now slick passage opened wide.  As Gildor pulled his legs up past his hips, 
he felt his heart racing in his chest.  His lover grasped his jaw and held him.

“This will be painful, my love,” Gildor murmured, “that I cannot prevent.  But I promise you, it will be well worth it in 
the end.”

Legolas nodded.  “Take me, I need you to take me.”

“You are mine, Legolas Thranduilion, now and forever more.”  Gildor focused on Legolas’ deep blue eyes as he 
entered his lover’s tight body, watching as those eyes grew wide and brimmed with tears.  His prince gasped and dug 
his nails into his back, but Gildor did not stop until he was buried to the hilt.  “Breathe, my love,” he murmured.

Legolas drew a deep, hitching breath, and then let it out in a ragged wave.

“It hurts,” the prince murmured, “but I do not want you to stop.”

“Peace, my prince,” Gildor whispered as he teased his lover’s lips with his own.  “It is beginning…”

Legolas felt heavy, as if he could not move or speak.  His eyelids fluttered closed and he felt his body begin to grow 
limp, then without warning, the first images raced through his mind.  Caves . . . Nargothrond, Gildor’s family, a great 
battle, Lindon, Dwarves, Glorfindel, Gil-galad, Elrond, Eregion… He squeezed his eyes shut and gasped.  Annatar, the 
deceiver.  So much death, so much pain.  Then Imladris, laughter, woods and fields and sunshine, sleeping under the 
stars, music, dancing, Erestor.  So much love, so much joy, then more pain.  It was then that he felt as well as saw – felt 
that first fearful moment when Gildor realized he loved him; felt the longing all the while that Gildor was away, then 
the joy when they reunited.  ‘He loves me,’ Legolas thought, ‘he loves me as much as I love him.’ 

Gildor saw Legolas’ life as well, the joy of his childhood, the love of his mother and father, Oropher doting on him and 
bouncing him on his knee, his grandmother showing him how to pick ripe blackberries.  He felt the fear and sadness 
when Thranduil and Oropher left for war, and the joy upon seeing his father again, mingled with the sorrow that came 
when he realized his grandfather would not return.  He then saw the truth, that what Legolas told him so long ago was 
not a youth’s fanciful crush, that the prince really did love him, even before he could express that love in full.

It was then that their shared physical sensations began; Gildor felt what Legolas felt, and Legolas felt him.  They were 
both being entered and entering, giving and taking, their hearts, minds and fëa were becoming one.  As he began to 
move inside his beloved prince, he heard Legolas’ thoughts in his mind, he felt the love, the passion, and the 
overwhelming sense of becoming one.  He knew Legolas felt the same thing, heard his thoughts and saw the depth of 
what was in his heart.  Never again would anything be unsaid between them, never again would there ever be any 
doubt.

Legolas moved with him, his deep, rich voice moaning his passion, whispering his love, his hands holding, gripping, 
caressing, his body squeezing him and consuming him.  The end was coming, quicker than either of them wanted, but 
their bodies could only bear so much.  Legolas cried out and arched against him, his warm essence spilling between 
their sweat-slicked bodies.  The prince’s tightening passage milked his own climax from him, his seed flooding his 
lover’s body as he growled deep.

He could feel the near uncontrollable shaking of the prince’s arms and legs as they lie pressed together.  Indeed, he was 
shaking too, his body trembling as he blinked through tears.  He had never gone this far, never given this much, not 
even to Erestor.  He had given Legolas everything he had; there was nothing left to guard or hide now.  He felt 
Legolas’ shaking hands slide into his hair.

“Thank you,” the prince whispered.  “I am yours and you are mine.  There is nothing that I could want more than this.”

“I love you,” Gildor murmured.  “I have loved you from the beginning, and I will love you forever more.”

“Be my mate,” Legolas whispered.  “Let us declare our love before my family and the Valar.”

Gildor raised his head and looked into Legolas’ eyes.  It was madness, this headlong rush they were in, but then, their 
entire relationship had been mad in a way.  “I will,” he answered, “I will.”

Legolas smiled and drew him into a kiss, and he surrendered to it.

*    *    *    *

“What is this?” Lindir asked, one pale eyebrow raised as he stared at a small box sitting on the foot of their bed.

“I wonder how that got there?” Thranduil asked, one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin.

“What mischief are you up to now, Thranduil Oropherion?”

Thranduil straightened the crown upon his head as he looked in the mirror.  “Mischief?  Why say you mischief?”

“Because mischief is what you are best at, my wicked king.”

Thranduil grinned.  “Well there might be one or two other things I am good at as well.”

Lindir chuckled.

“Are you going to open it?”

Lindir sat on the side of the bed and picked up the box.  “Should I?”

Thranduil turned and looked at his lover.  “Aye, I think you should.”

Lindir turned the small box over in his hands.  “Very well, then.”  He smiled at his lover and began untying the ribbon.


To be continued…