Title: Resurrection, 46/? 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 gets a surprise and Thranduil makes an announcement. Lindir’s hands began to tremble as he placed the ribbon aside and held the small, beautifully carved, wooden box. It was light, and of a particular size that made his mind race with the possibilities. He looked up at his lover, who had turned in his chair to look at him, and then he looked down at the box. The look in Thranduil’s eye was one of mixed apprehension and anticipation, and that could only mean one thing. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and slowly opened the small box, then opened his eyes again and gazed upon the contents. He could not breathe. He could not speak. With shaking hands, he plucked a small, mithril band from the box and held it up to the light. It was elegantly carved; he saw a small moon and some stars, the symbols of the Sindar, and there were a clef and harp, and a sun, the symbols of the Noldorion houses from which he came. There was another ring in the box, carved just like the one he held, only it was larger in diameter. He felt his lover’s hands on his knees and he looked down. Thranduil had moved from his seat at the dressing table to kneel on the floor before him. His lover, his regal king, so proud, so strong, looked up at him in supplication. “I have lived my life playing parts: the dutiful son, the good prince, the faithful husband, the doting father, and now king. In all of my years, the only role that felt real was that of father to Legolas, until you came into my life. You have taught me how to lead with wisdom and temperance, Lindir. You have made me a better king and a better father. But most of all, you have made me whole. I would not be who I am now if it were not for you; without you, I am but a shell of myself.” Thranduil looked deep into his lover’s eyes. “I would have you as my mate, if you would have me as your own.” For all of his adult life, nearly an age, Lindir had waited to hear those words. For years uncounted, he waited for Glorfindel to utter them, and then as time dragged on, he lived without hope of ever hearing them. Now, in an unexpected place, with the elf who had utterly stolen and healed his broken heart, he was hearing those words. He reached out and touched the king’s face, feeling tears track down his own cheeks. “You are my dream come true,” he said softly. “Aye, I will have you, and you shall have me.” Thranduil smiled and rose to his feet, taking Lindir’s face in his hands. “By the Valar, I do love you so, Lindir,” he murmured, then he pressed a deep kiss to his beloved’s lips. Releasing his lover’s mouth, Thranduil plucked the ring from Lindir’s hand and slid it on his minstrel’s finger. He then allowed Lindir to do the same, smiling as the band slid home. “I will take great joy in making this announcement tonight,” he murmured as he slid his hand around the back of Lindir’s neck. Lindir smiled at him. “I cannot wait to see Legolas’ expression. Your son is such a romantic – I can see where he gets it from.” Thranduil chuckled. “You are one of very few who would ever say that about me, my love.” Placing his hands on Thranduil’s hips, Lindir answered, “Then I am one of a privileged few who knows you well.” He then reached for his beloved with his mouth. * * * * Gildor and Legolas stood near the large buffet where decanters of wine were set. Thranduil’s council members attended, as did some of the noble lords of Greenwood. The king’s most senior warriors, generals who had served Oropher and now served Thranduil and Legolas, attended as well, many of them already knew Gildor well from his time with them not so long ago. Despite the perception outside of Greenwood, the people of Thranduil were not opposed to outsiders, they were merely cautious. The mistrust of Noldor had faded when Oropher died; Thranduil had not yet been born during those last, fateful days of Doriath when Fëanor’s sons wrecked so much destruction. Even so, Oropher had trusted the most noble among the Noldor, Glorfindel had been one of his closest friends, so the animosity that supposedly existed was more a thing of rumor than fact. Soft music played in the background as the warriors, nobles, and council members circulated and socialized. Gildor received a full report of Legolas’ training and his burgeoning prowess as a warrior from Thranduil’s captain, who seemed to be as proud of the prince as Thranduil was. As Thranduil and Lindir entered arm in arm, the kitchen staff began laying a feast fit for the occasion. Soon the hall was filled with the aroma of roasted fowl and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and a delicious soup made from roasted peppers and tomatoes. They sat down to a kingly feast. The table was dressed with fine linens and plates made of shining silver and gold. Crystal goblets filled with ruby-hued wine glimmered in the warm candlelight, and a fire crackled in the large hearth at the opposite end of the hall. Plates were passed and food dished out in a casual manner. Thranduil carved the bird as Lindir laid the slices on the plates that came his way. Gildor thought it was odd, yet comfortable. They were in a formal setting, but the food was laid out on the table casually, almost like a large family dinner, and the king himself was carving the bird and serving it. In a way, it reminded him of the meals at Elrond’s table, but even then, those were served in a more formal manner. As the evening progressed and the attendees began sitting back from the table, their stomachs pleasantly full as they sipped fine brandy made there in Greenwood, Thranduil requested everyone’s attention. “I would like to make an announcement,” he said, standing as his guests’ eyes turned toward him. “This is a joyous occasion. Our good friend Gildor has returned and agreed to stay,” he raised his glass as all applauded, “and my dear Lindir has agreed to be my mate.” Gildor smiled as he met Lindir’s gaze. He had spied the rings of promise on their fingers earlier, but opted not to say anything. Legolas rose from his chair and immediately embraced Lindir, placing a kiss upon the minstrel’s cheek. “Welcome to our family,” Legolas said softly. Lindir gave the prince a squeeze. “Thank you.” Legolas then proceeded to his father, whom he hugged tightly. “I am so glad to hear this news,” he said softly. “I am most pleased that the two of you have chosen to solidify your bond.” The guests raised their voices in a cheer and their glasses in a toast. After congratulations were given, the crowd moved to the celebration hall, where the musicians played and happy couples danced. Thranduil held Lindir in his arms as he watched Gildor and Legolas circle the dance floor, gracefully moving together as they gazed into each other’s eyes. It was the first public display of their affection in front of the prince’s subjects, and Thranduil was not surprised to see looks of approval on many of the faces of the guests. There were a few elleth and ellon that had difficulty hiding their disappointment, but overall, their people were happy about the budding romance between their prince and the noble elf lord. “Gildor is a good and faithful lover,” Lindir murmured to his king, noting the way Thranduil looked at the pair. “He never failed to treat Erestor with respect, and was loyal to him even when he knew that Erestor’s heart belonged to Glorfindel.” Thranduil nodded, a slight smile curving his lips. “Aye, I know you speak true. I am glad that Legolas has chosen him, for as you say, Gildor will be good to him. Yet, I cannot help but think my son is so young to have given so much of himself away.” “Why say you?” “Look at him, at the way he moves, the look in his eye – he is no longer an innocent.” “Are you troubled by the match?” “No. Not by the match. Perhaps I am just sorrowful to see him grow to adulthood.” Thranduil turned his gaze to Lindir. “I miss his childhood, the way he would giggle when I played with him, the look of devotion in his eye when he looked at me . . . I miss that innocent, unconditional love.” “It is still there, my love,” Lindir murmured. “Legolas would do anything for you, you know that.” “I know, but the day has come when I am no longer the center of his world. Gildor has taken my place.” He sighed. “I know it is foolish and selfish of me, but for so long, Legolas was my one purpose.” Lindir smiled and caressed Thranduil’s cheek. “And that devotion is evident, my love. He is a fine prince, strong, brave, and noble. You raised him as such; you should be proud.” Thranduil drew Lindir closer. “I am, and now I have another to dote upon, to love like I have no other purpose.” Lindir gave a soft purr of appreciation as Thranduil drew him closer. “Mmm, and I will savor it to the utmost of my ability.” “I love you, Lindir.” “I love you, Thranduil.” “Come, dance with me.” Thranduil took his betrothed by the hand and led him onto the dance floor, where they spent the night in celebration of their impending marriage. * * * * Lindir smiled and sighed as Thranduil’s body came to rest atop his. He wrapped his long legs around his lover’s hips and buried his hands in the heavy fall of hair that covered their faces like a veil. “Gods, I love the way you feel,” Lindir murmured as Thranduil’s lips caressed his jaw. “I love touching you, feeling your skin against my own, hearing your deep voice in my ear.” “I want to give you something,” Thranduil murmured. “You have already given me more than I dared ask for.” He propped himself upon his elbows and gazed into the minstrel’s eyes. “I want us to bond spiritually.” He noted the flash of apprehension in Lindir’s eyes. “I need this, Lindir. I need to know how you felt about him. We cannot truly belong to one another without this.” Lindir caressed Thranduil’s face. “How I felt about him has nothing to do with how I feel about you.” “But it does; you know it does. You cannot separate that from the rest of yourself. You and I need to know everything, see everything.” Lindir was worried, but he acquiesced, for he knew his lover was right. Nodding, he murmured, “Very well.” He took Thranduil’s face in his hands. “I love you, Thranduil, do not forget that.” Thranduil smiled. “I will not.” He closed his eyes and held Lindir’s face in his hands, focusing on his beloved and reaching out to him with his thoughts. Lindir was taken aback, never had he experienced this sort of bond in this way. He tried to clear his mind and let Thranduil in, gasping when the connection was made. He was afraid of what Thranduil would think when he saw the truth, when his lover saw how he was willing to hold on to Glorfindel even when he knew the truth. In his worry about what Thranduil would see, he was wholly unprepared for what he saw in the king’s heart and mind. He saw Thranduil’s wedding, it was an elegant affair. He saw their marriage bed and the tenderness with which Thranduil made love to his wife. He saw the birth of Legolas, and felt the joy in Thranduil’s heart – the sense of completeness, the sense of purpose that the prince felt brought tears to his eyes. He watched Legolas grow, and felt the pain in Thranduil’s heart when he left his family to go to war. He squeezed his eyes shut when the first images of carnage flooded his mind. He was not naïve about warfare, for he had lived through the fall of Eregion, but this was death and destruction on a scale he could not have imagined. He saw the Morannon through his lover’s eyes: the desolation, the bleak battlefield teeming with orcs, trolls, and every manner of foul beast; he heard the cries of dying elves and men, heard the unceasing whine of arrows, the battle cries, and the guttural grunts and growls of the orcs. Then he heard his lover’s voice crying out and saw Oropher’s regiment driven into the marshes. He saw Gildor and Glorfindel charging after them, trying in vein to stop the slaughter; he heard the sound of Thranduil’s heart pounding in his chest, his breath roaring in his ears as he ran after his father, crying out to him as the rough, black scimitar pierced Oropher’s chest, then he saw the proud Sinda King fall to his knees in the mire. He watched as Oropher’s body was taken by the foul ground, slowly sinking into the black swamp, never to be retrieved. It was Glorfindel who retrieved the king’s ring, crown, and lance before they disappeared into the muck, and it was Glorfindel who bore those things back to Thranduil. He saw the Black Tower, the image struck fear into his heart; then finally he saw the Dark Lord himself, felt the beast’s gaze mark his beloved, then watched as Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand. Thranduil felt tears prick his eyes as he saw his lover’s past. The cage he was put into as his friends died, the fear he felt then and how he prayed for death. He saw Glorfindel and Gildor, watched as they fought valiantly and rescued both his beloved and Erestor. He felt the love that Lindir harbored for Glorfindel, and saw their first night. The hold Glorfindel once had was powerful, and it pained him when he saw Lindir’s trust broken. So many years of cold, empty longing for something Lindir feared he would never have. The fear of losing Glorfindel, the pain of keeping the Elda, then the utter release when he finally walked away. If Thranduil had ever doubted Lindir’s devotion to him, that doubt was erased then, for he saw that his minstrel’s heart was true, and that his lover’s heart belonged to him in total. He opened his eyes, blinking to focus through his tears as he gazed into Lindir’s own glistening orbs. They had both suffered in different ways, and now they both could find peace. Lindir wrapped his arms around Thranduil and held him tightly. “Oh, my love, no one should ever have to go through what you went through. So much pain and death…” “Pain is pain, regardless of the source, and you have suffered as greatly as I have, my treasure. Now we have one another, we will suffer no more.” “No more,” Lindir echoed. Thranduil pressed a kiss to his beloved’s lips, and they made love as Ithil waned. Title: Resurrection, 47/? 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 tastes defeat for the first time, Gildor asks Thranduil a question, Thranduil and Legolas talk. “Good!” Gildor exclaimed as Legolas avoided a particularly skillful and forceful thrust by his captain’s training lance. “Do not take your eyes off him. Watch his feet as well; he cannot fool you that way.” He felt Thranduil’s hand upon his shoulder and he took his eyes off the training field for just a moment. “My lord,” he said deferentially. While he addressed the king by name when they were alone, he insisted on being more formal amongst the king’s subjects. “He is doing well,” Thranduil said quietly as he watched his son advance and retreat. “Very well, my lord,” Gildor answered. “He has excellent instincts.” “Ai!” “My liege!” Thranduil and Gildor turned to find Legolas on his back, holding his side. “Legolas!” Thranduil shouted and they ran onto the field. “Ai,” Legolas grumbled as he sat up slowly, his hand on his side. “Forgive me, my liege…” the captain began. “’Twas not your fault, Galen,” Legolas murmured. “I was too slow.” “No, I pushed you too hard, my liege. I am sorry, my king.” Thranduil held up his hand. “Do not apologize, Galen. It is your duty to train my son and prepare him for battle. Are you all right, Greenleaf?” Legolas grimaced as he tried to gain his feet. “I think so.” Gildor helped his beloved to his feet. “Come, we had best look at you to see if anything is broken.” Thranduil placed his hand upon his captain’s shoulder. “Do not fret, Galen. All will be well.” The captain nodded and walked back to the barracks, carrying their training weapons with him. “I became tripped up in the sand,” Legolas grumbled. “It was as if I could not move my feet.” “No worries, my love. We all fail from time to time. You should see the beatings I have taken at the hands of Glorfindel,” Gildor answered with a smile. “That makes two of us,” Thranduil chimed in with a grin. “Is it painful, Greenleaf?” Legolas managed a smile. “Not too much, father. I will be fine.” Thranduil smiled and caressed his son’s cheek. “You are still young and in the early years of your training; this is not the first beating you will take.” Legolas chuckled then grimaced again. “Aye, I believe you.” “I will leave you to your love’s care. I will check on you again before the evening meal.” Thranduil departed the field and made for the council chambers, as Gildor escorted his lover to his bedchamber. Legolas sat on the bed as Gildor began unbuttoning his tunic. “I am sure I am fine, my love.” “Perhaps, but I will feel better if I see it for myself.” He slowly removed the prince’s tunic and saw a large bruise forming on his ribs. “Can you raise your arm?” Legolas clenched his jaw as Gildor helped him raise his arm, and he looked down at the large bruise that was forming. “I am supposed to go on patrol in two days.” “That will not happen,” Gildor murmured as he gently felt his lover’s ribs. He stood up. “At least one is broken, but not badly. We must take you to the healer so that he can bandage you. We should immobilize your arm as well, you will heal faster that way.” Gildor chuckled when he saw his lover’s furrowed brow. “If this is the worst thing that ever happens to you, you will be lucky.” Legolas smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Aye, I know you speak true. But it is one thing to be injured in battle, another to be injured because you cannot move your feet, especially when most of your regiment is watching alongside your lover and your father.” Gildor retrieved a loose undershirt from the prince’s armoire. “Did I ever tell you the story of when my father taught me to ride a horse?” Legolas smiled. “No, but I would like to hear it.” Gildor helped Legolas slip one arm into a sleeve then draped the shirt over the other arm. “Well, I was just twenty years old and we had this pony that used to pull a cart. I wanted to ride my father’s horse, but I barely came to the beast’s shoulder. At any rate, my father put me on the pony, knowing that this pony was particularly cantankerous and did not like to be ridden. Thankfully, we were on soft ground, so when the pony bucked and I fell, I was not hurt. At any rate, my father insisted that I had to master riding this pony before he would let me ride a larger horse. So everyday he watched as I mounted the pony and would be promptly thrown off. After months of this, and most of my friends witnessing it, I finally realized that the one I needed to impress was the pony, not my father or my friends. I forgot that I was being watched and focused only on the pony. I brushed him, scratched his belly, fed him treats, played with him in the yard – I did everything but try to ride him. My friends teased me, called me a coward, but my father just watched and smiled. Soon, the pony and I formed a partnership of sorts, and he let me ride him. I was the only one who ever rode that pony, and when I grew taller, my father gave me the finest mare from his herd.” “So what you are saying is that I need not worry about what others think, I need only worry about the task at hand and how to achieve it.” Gildor smiled. “A true soldier knows humility; he knows that battle is not about glory, it is about fighting to protect what one loves. Seeking glory will bring a swift end to your life; but seeking to be a good soldier, one who cares about his warriors and whose aim is to win a battle with as little loss of life as possible will ensure the undying trust and respect of those who serve beneath you.” Legolas nodded. “You are yet young, my love. You have much to learn and have yet to be tested on the battlefield. Take this time and opportunity to build the skills you will need to keep both yourself and those who follow you alive.” “I will,” Legolas said quietly, reaching up and drawing his lover’s lips to his own. “Thank you,” he murmured, before placing a soft kiss upon Gildor’s lips. * * * * A soft knock fell upon Thranduil’s office door, and he called for his guest to enter. A smile curved his lips as he saw Gildor step inside and he invited his friend to sit down. “How is Legolas?” “He has one injured rib, but it is not serious. He should be fully recovered within a week. Is it his first wound?” Thranduil set the documents he was reading aside, a grin curving his lips. “No. He has always been a brave ellon. He broke his leg when he was twenty falling out of a tree, and he sprained an ankle shortly thereafter leaping from one rock to another. He has never lacked a sense of boldness.” Gildor smiled. “Aye. He knows what he wants and he goes after it.” Thranduil chuckled. “This is true.” “Thranduil, I have something very important to ask you.” “Ask anything, my friend.” “You know I love your son. I would have your blessing to bond with him.” Thranduil’s eyes widened. “I know this is soon to ask, and I do not know how to explain it, but I love him with all of my heart, and he loves me. He wants this. I understand why you would be apprehensive, I was at first also, but when I look into his eyes, I know this is right. I will abide by your decision.” “He is so young; he has so much yet to experience.” Thranduil focused on the desktop. “I would like some time to consider this proposal.” “Of course. Take all the time that you need.” Gildor rose from his chair and began to leave the room. “Gildor?” “Yes?” “Know that I do not doubt your feelings for my son.” Gildor smiled. “I know.” Thranduil nodded then watched his friend leave the room. * * * * Thranduil entered his son’s chamber to find him resting, propped up in bed with thick pillows. His right arm was in a sling and his chest was bound tightly. A book rested upon his lap, and as the king entered, Legolas looked up and smiled at him. “Hello, ada. Do not worry; I will be fine. It looks worse than it is.” Thranduil smiled and sat on the edge of Legolas’ bed. Lifting the book, he gazed at the engraved cover. “It was your mother’s favorite.” Legolas smiled. “Aye, she left it to me when she sailed. She wanted to leave something important behind with me.” “Do you miss her?” “Yes, I do. But I understand why she could not stay. I know that had things been different, the two of you would probably never have married.” “I do not regret marrying her, Legolas,” Thranduil said softly. “Had I not, you would not have come into our lives. She was a fine mother, and a dutiful wife, and a wise and beautiful elleth. Had things been different, we still would have been the best of friends.” “And you are a fine father and were a kind husband. Now, you have someone whom you can love with all of your heart, and that makes me very happy.” Thranduil picked up his son’s hand. “You have grown so fast. How did you become so wise about matters of the heart?” “I had a good teacher,” Legolas answered with a smile. “You love Gildor?” “You know I do.” “You are so young to talk of bonding. You have just begun to live your own life.” “Years and experience will teach me nothing I do not already know about what is in my heart.” “But years and experience do change who you are.” “They will not change how I feel about Gildor.” Legolas squeezed his father’s hand. “Give him your blessing, ada. It means so much to him, and to me.” “It still feels as if you were born yesterday.” “I will always be your son, nothing will change that.” Thranduil nodded, then leaned over, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “You have my blessing. I will talk with Gildor.” Legolas smiled broadly. “It is the greatest gift you could ever give me. Thank you, ada.” “I never could say no to you, Greenleaf.” Thranduil caressed his son’s face, then departed Legolas’ chambers in search of Gildor. Title: Resurrection, 48/50 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: Time moves on, and Greenwood gets visitors. Thranduil granted his blessing and Gildor and Legolas became formally engaged. The celebration had been joyous; both couples were to be wed on the same day, and the shared ceremony was cause for great excitement in Greenwood. Years had passed and Thranduil’s people had healed; they still grieved the loss of Oropher, but Thranduil proved to be just as good a ruler. Gildor walked the halls, amongst people who would soon be his subjects as well. His beloved was heir to the throne, though all, including Legolas, prayed that succession would never come. He had become a close advisor to Thranduil, and his skill as a scout and experience as a warrior were most helpful to the king. His beloved was returning from patrol that day, and the celebration that heralded the coming of autumn and their marriages would follow close on the heels of the prince’s homecoming. Gildor had accompanied Legolas several times, coaching his lover and the soldiers who patrolled with him in the art of stealth. The Wood-elves of Thranduil were already skilled in blending in with their surroundings, but there was yet more they could learn from one of Gildor’s years and experience. Occasional missives were exchanged between Thranduil’s realm and those of Lórien and Imladris. Peace reigned, though it was an uneasy one, for the One Ring was still missing, therefore, the Dark Lord was still a threat. One of those messages, signed and bearing the king’s signature had carried an invitation. Over the years, Thranduil had seen that Lindir longed for closure, and though his soon to be mate would never have admitted it, the minstrel needed to see both Glorfindel and Erestor again. Thranduil knew that Gildor needed the closure as well, so he had secretly invited the pair to attend their wedding. Of course, a formal invitation had been extended to Elrond and Celebrían as well, but as the lady was with child (or twins as the case would be), Elrond respectfully declined. Gildor entered the courtyard in order to meet the messenger who had arrived from Imladris. He looked up as he noticed that the light, which filtered through the glass- paned skylight, was dimming. Each year it seemed that autumn came earlier and lasted longer, and each year it seemed as if the seasons became more difficult. Gildor worried about what this meant, and wondered if Elrond sensed it, despite the shelter that Vilya provided to the Hidden Valley. As Gildor shifted his gaze from the dimming light to the herald from Imladris, his eyes widened in surprise. “Glorfindel?” He caught his breath as his old friend’s traveling companion was revealed as the hood of his cloak was flipped back. “Erestor?” He quickly descended the staircase to greet his friends. “Gildor.” Glorfindel smiled as he embraced his old friend. “’Tis so good to see you.” Erestor stepped forward. “Hello, Gildor,” he said quietly, a contented smile upon his lips. Gildor tentatively embraced Erestor, but once in his arms he squeezed his friend tightly. “Hello, Erestor,” he said softly, “you are also a most welcome sight.” He recovered from the shock and stepped back. “What is it? It must be important news for Lord Elrond to send the two of you.” Glorfindel smiled. “We are here by invitation. Your king invited us to witness your bonding with the prince and his bonding with Lindir. We also bring wonderful news. Our lord is about to become a father.” “That is wonderful!” Gildor exclaimed. “When?” “Come spring, we think,” Erestor answered. “Our lady is just beginning to truly show her state.” “Come, let me take you to the king. He will be glad to see both of you.” “Congratulations on your upcoming marriage,” Erestor said softly as Gildor led him and Glorfindel up the stairs. “We were so pleased to hear you had found someone you loved so dearly.” “Thank you,” Gildor returned with a smile. “He has been a joy in my life.” “And he is a beauty, I must say. It has been years since I looked on one with such light in his eyes.” “You met him,” Gildor answered with a smile. “Aye,” Glorfindel replied. “He greeted us at the western entrance to the wood. He is much like his father in bearing.” “True, though I believe Thranduil would have it otherwise, particularly the part of him that is bold.” Erestor laughed. “Well, perhaps your influence will temper his hot blood, yes?” “Lindir has tempered Thranduil’s, this is sure.” Glorfindel took a deep breath. “How is Lindir?” “Very happy, Glorfindel. Thranduil is utterly devoted to him.” Glorfindel nodded. “Good. It is what Lindir deserves. I have to admit, I am nervous about seeing him. It has been so long.” “Many years have passed and much has transpired. I think you will find our minstrel to be a different elf, my friend.” “As long as he is happy, that is all that we care about,” Erestor answered. “He is, my friends, he most certainly is.” They entered the throne room and Glorfindel immediately saw the smile that curved Thranduil’s lips as they approached the dais. The king rose and descended the steps that lead to the throne, and greeted the travelers warmly. “Welcome to our home, Glorfindel and Erestor.” They covered their hearts and bowed their heads. “’Tis an honor, my lord,” Glorfindel answered. “I am pleased that the two of you accepted my invitation.” “We were honored to receive it, my lord. Your home is most impressive,” Erestor replied. “My thanks, Erestor. Gildor was instrumental in helping to shape it. It is no Menegroth or Nargothrond, but it serves us well.” Motioning toward a door near the dais, Thranduil invited his visitors inside. “Come, let us retire to my study where the two of you can inform me of all that is going on outside of our great wood.” They bowed their heads and followed the king. Erestor cast a smile over his shoulder toward Gildor. Gildor smiled in return, then turned to find one of the palace guard standing behind him. “Was that . . . Glorfindel o’ Imladris and Gondolin?” Gildor grinned. There was always some young soldier that would find him or herself struck dumb by the sight of the legendary warrior. “Aye, it was, and that was his mate with him, who is not one to be trifled with. Now, are you going to stand there and stare in his wake, or do you have some duty to perform?” The young soldier blinked. “Forgive me, my lord. The prince has arrived.” “Thank you. Now, come along, you do not want to be reprimanded for neglecting your duty now, do you?” Gildor chuckled to himself as the young soldier hurried back to his post. Stepping outside he found the prince dismounting. He watched as Legolas gave his mare an affectionate rub, then slung his pack over his shoulder and made for the steps. A broad smile curved Gildor’s lips as their eyes met, and he saw his smile returned tenfold. “Welcome home, my love,” he said as Legolas sat his pack down and embraced him. “Mmm… ‘tis good to be home. You smell good.” Gildor cupped Legolas’ jaw and drew him into a kiss. Releasing his mouth, he murmured, “As do you…” Legolas laughed. “Oh, I doubt that. I have not had a bath for over a week.” “No matter,” Gildor murmured, moving his lips from the prince’s mouth to his ear. “I can remedy that for you.” He frowned. “You are cold to the touch.” “The seasons turn so soon now,” Legolas replied as he picked up his pack and walked inside with his lover. “The wind blew fiercely through the vale, and the snow line is dropping lower down the sides of the mountains.” “Well, ‘tis nothing we cannot remedy with a warm bath.” “Oh, yes. That sounds wonderful.” Picking up Gildor’s hand, he said, “I met Glorfindel . . . and Erestor.” “Erestor said as much. He was quite complementary of you.” Legolas chuckled. “I could be complementary of him as well, of both of them, really.” Gildor grinned. “Mind yourself, they are mated and neither is an elf you wish to test.” Legolas laughed. “I believe you on that count.” After a pause, he continued, “Does Lindir know Glorfindel is here?” Gildor shook his head. “Not yet. I cannot tell if I should warn him, or let Glorfindel find him.” “Perhaps we should not involve ourselves. I know he is your friend, they all are, but this is a potentially awkward situation.” “Wisely said, my love. Do you find it awkward?” he asked, searching Legolas’ eyes for some sign of worry or jealousy. Legolas smiled. “I will admit, it was a bit strange to meet him after all these years and all I know about him; but I know you, Gildor, and I know you never would have come back to me if you were not ready to put your past with Erestor behind you.” “That is but one of the things I love about you, Legolas, your unwavering confidence in me.” He took his beloved’s hand. “If I see Lindir before Glorfindel does, and I do not mention that he and Erestor are here, well, there will be an unpleasant price to pay.” “Good point. Then I shall keep you cloistered away until the two of them have met on their own.” “And what shall we do?” Gildor teased. “Oh, I can think of one or two things,” Legolas murmured, quickening his pace and leading his lover by the hand. * * * * Lindir drew the bow over the strings of his instrument, drawing out the final note before opening his eyes and smiling in satisfaction. The sound of applause interrupted his thoughts, and he turned expecting to find his king, instead finding the last elf he ever expected to see. “Hello Lindir.” He turned and faced the wall quickly and gathered his composure, then slowly stood and leaned the large instrument against the wall. He took a deep breath and turned back to face Glorfindel. “Hello,” he said softly, his voice sounding as if it would crack. Stepping forward, he awkwardly thrust out his hand. Glorfindel looked down at it and accepted the gesture, covering Lindir’s hand with both of his own. He wanted to embrace the minstrel, but he could sense Lindir’s apprehension. “Forgive me for surprising you this way, but I was anxious to see you.” “What…” Lindir cleared his throat. “What brings you to Greenwood?” “I am here on state business, but I also wanted to see you, and Gildor. Erestor is with me as well.” “What business? Or am I allowed to ask?” “Of course you are. We were invited to your wedding.” Lindir’s eyes widened. Thranduil had pulled this off without him so much as suspecting. “My king is most crafty.” “And most wise,” Glorfindel answered. “’Tis been too long since we have seen you. Despite all that has passed we do wish to remain friends, if you wish the same.” “Of course,” Lindir replied, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. Sensing Lindir’s discomfort, Glorfindel changed the subject. “Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían are with child.” Lindir’s eyes widened and a smile began to warm his uncomfortable expression. “Truly? That is wonderful news!” Glorfindel smiled warmly. “Aye, it is. ‘Tis so good to see you, sparrow.” Noting how the endearment made Lindir uncomfortable, he apologized, “Forgive me, I did not mean…” Lindir shook his head, realizing that Glorfindel still held his hand. Patting the warrior’s hands, he gently drew his own back. “No worries. It is just that no one has called me that since…” “Say no more, Lindir. I understand; it was thoughtless of me. I suppose it is just habit.” “Aye, habit, no more.” Taking a step back, Lindir quickly changed the topic. “When will the lady give birth? How far along is she?” “I do not know, how does one tell?” Lindir laughed, it was a brief burst before he covered his mouth. “By the size of her belly, of course.” Glorfindel laughed, it was a big, hardy sound. “Of course. Well, she is just starting to show her state; she believes it will be a spring birth. I have little experience in these matters; it sounds like you have more than I.” “I learned these things when my family worked in Lady Galadriel’s house when the Lady Celebrían was born. Is she craving strange foods or becoming . . . moody?” “Aye, she is. For some reason she has taken a liking to pickled herring and sticky buns at very odd times of the day and night. And she frequently complains of being weary.” Lindir nodded, motioning toward the door. “It will only get worse as time goes on. How is Erestor taking it?” Glorfindel chuckled. “How do you think? He is a nervous wreck. If he did not have substantial duties, he would be following her around day and night.” Lindir grinned. “I assume he has replaced me.” “Not replaced, Lindir, but he has trained another to take over your duties. He was convinced you would return, until we received word of your upcoming marriage. Congratulations, my friend. We are both glad you are so happy.” Lindir smiled wider. “Aye, I am. Thranduil has given me all that I ever wanted.” Taking a risk, Glorfindel placed his hand on Lindir’s back. “I am so glad, Lindir. You, above all others, deserve to be happy.” Lindir looked at the floor. “Thank you, Glorfindel.” Taking a deep breath and changing the subject, he asked, “Where is Erestor?” “Settling in to our quarters. You know Erestor, he must organize and nest.” He winked. Lindir chuckled. “Of course, some things never change. Come, I will accompany you there; I wish to greet him as well.” Glorfindel smiled and led his former-lover down the hall. “I notice that you no longer limp.” Lindir smiled. “Aye. It has been a long time since I have done such.” They walked in a strangely amicable silence until they arrived at the guest chamber. “Well, here we are,” Glorfindel said, opening the door and revealing a busy Erestor inside. “Look who I found, my love.” Lindir had to admit that hearing the endearment come from Glorfindel’s lips stung a little, but that sensation was quickly replaced by the look of utter joy and excitement in Erestor’s eyes. “Lindir! Come here, my friend.” Erestor crossed the room and gathered the minstrel in his arms. “Oh, I have missed you so.” Lindir found himself leaning into Erestor’s embrace. He missed his old mentor more than he realized. “I have missed you too, Erestor,” he said, his voice partially muffled by Erestor’s shoulder. “You are going to suffocate him, Erestor,” Glorfindel said, humor clearly tingeing his voice. “We must catch up. There is so much to talk about. I want to hear all about your life here and what you are doing… Oh! Did Glorfindel tell you about our lady? She is with child!” “He did tell me. That is most wonderful,” Lindir said as he allowed Erestor to lead him by the hand to the sitting area. “I will leave the two of you to talk. I have some other business to discuss with his majesty,” Glorfindel said, smiling as he placed his hand upon the door latch.” “I am sure Thranduil is planning a grand feast to welcome you both this eve. I will tell Erestor where the baths are so that the two of you can prepare. You will find robes hanging inside and you can deposit your clothing in the basket, the laundry maids will return them to you once they have been laundered,” Lindir said as he looked over his shoulder at Glorfindel. “Lindir?” Lindir looked back at Glorfindel. “Yes?” “That bargain was the best one I ever made; I have not regretted it once in all these years.” He smiled at both his mate and his old friend as he said it. Lindir smiled in return. “It is a debt I will never be able to repay.” “You have paid it, my friend, many times over.” Lindir nodded, then watched Glorfindel smile and close the door behind him. “Come, tell me what is happening in your life,” Erestor began with a gentle smile, not releasing Lindir’s hand until they reached the chairs. Title: Resurrection, 49/50 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: Lindir talks to Glorfindel, Gildor welcomes his prince home. Glorfindel watched his horse eat. His stallion was appreciative of the good currying he had received at the hands of his master, and the warm, dry stall, and snack of grain before the hay was fed that night. Horses always settled Glorfindel, and those who knew him well knew to seek him in the stables when he could not be found elsewhere. Seeing Lindir had been the cause of much worry for him on his journey, and while the greeting was not as warm as he hoped it would be, it held promise. Perhaps, after everything they had been through, they could be friends after all. Erestor and Gildor were another matter. It had taken years for Erestor to let go of his guilt, despite Gildor’s outward assurance that he should. During Gildor’s last stay in Imladris, their interactions had been so restrained, so carefully considered. The sense of uneasiness pained all of them, he was sure. He and Erestor both sincerely hoped for the day when they could all feel at ease around one another. While things would never be as they once were so long ago, they could yet be good. Glorfindel thought that the prince was a marvel. Each time he met someone new, he saw what was special in them. Each elf born in Middle-earth had something unique about them, some special gift, no matter how small, that made the corporeal world they lived in thrive. Some were blessed by Yavanna, and were skilled at making things grow; some, like Elrond and Galadriel were blessed by Varda, and possessed foresight and special wisdom; some, like Erestor, were blessed by Nienna, and possessed a particular sense of compassion and empathy, which could oft make them prone to introspection and melancholy; some, like him and Gildor, were blessed by Vairë, and carried with them a unique understanding of what had been and what would come; and some, like Lindir, were blessed by Nessa, and had a gift of music and song that brought joy to the hearts of those they touched. Then, there were those like the prince, Legolas, who had been touched by Vána. The prince possessed no special wisdom or strength, and apart from his striking and obvious beauty, a passerby might not sense anything unusual about him. However, he had a unique spirit, one that evil could not touch. Glorfindel had a feeling that the prince’s spirit would be sorely tested before his days in Middle- earth were done. He and Erestor were both glad that Gildor had found one so devoted to him. It had taken a lot of bravery for Gildor to open up to Erestor and let so much of himself out. That was, in part, the source of Erestor’s guilt – he had betrayed Gildor, despite his best efforts to the contrary. Now, Gildor had a lover who would never stray, never leave, and never withhold anything from him. And as for himself and Erestor, well, things were finally as they should be on that account. Glorfindel had known in some small way that first time he laid eyes on the pale, dark-haired elf, that he and Erestor were meant for one another; he only wished he had been more forthright in being sure that Erestor knew that from the start. But wishes were like air, real enough, but impossible to hold onto. Reaching out and stroking his beast’s muzzle, he banished those thoughts from his mind. There was no point on dwelling on the past. He heard the large stable door creak on its hinges as it opened, and he looked up to find Lindir entering the barn. “I . . . I came to tell you something,” Lindir said softly. Glorfindel turned to face the minstrel. “You can tell me anything,” he answered. Lindir stood near the doorway, his slender, elegant hands tucked inside his sleeves, his hair shimmering in the lantern light, his large, liquid blue eyes drifting from the floor to Glorfindel’s gaze. The minstrel’s beauty never ceased to give Glorfindel pause. “I was afraid to see you,” Lindir answered. “I was not sure how I would feel. I have tried hard to forget you, but I see now that is pointless.” He took a deep breath. “There is part of me that still loves you, even though I know there is nothing between us anymore.” “But there is something between us, Lindir,” Glorfindel answered. “I still love you, sparrow; but that love has changed from desire to something more pure, more enduring.” Lindir’s lips curved into a small smile and he nodded. “Aye, I know of what you speak. Thranduil is everything I ever dreamed of, he loves me in a way that I always hoped one would. And as for you, you are the one who first taught me to love, the one who helped me grow from a youth to who I am now. I will always love you, Glorfindel, and I do not regret what we have been through. I want you to know that I am happy, and in part, that is due to what you have given me.” “We are still friends, then?” Lindir’s smile widened. “Aye, that we are.” With a slight bow of his head, he left Glorfindel alone with his horse. * * * * Lindir entered the chamber he shared with his lover to find Thranduil newly returned from the baths. He stood near the door, smiling as he watched his beloved retrieve a comb from the dressing table and take a seat near the fire so that his hair would dry more quickly. Thranduil looked up at Lindir, smiling at his love, then held out his hand in invitation. Lindir crossed the room and took the comb from the king’s hand, taking a place behind him as Thranduil slipped the robe from his shoulders. Working the comb through his beloved’s honey-gold locks, Lindir smiled. “I like this expression better than the one you wore earlier,” Thranduil said as he focused on the flickering light of the fire. “I spoke with Glorfindel, as you said I should.” “And?” “Things are clearer between us now. You were right, unresolved feelings are best remedied by talking about them.” “That is what my father always told me.” “Your father was wise,” Lindir murmured as he leaned down and pressed a kiss upon the top of Thranduil’s damp head, “as are you.” Thranduil caught his beloved’s wrist and guided Lindir to stand in front of him. Looking up into the Noldo’s eyes he said, “I will not pretend I was not worried. I know how much you loved him, and it occurred to me that you might still feel the same way. But then I recognized that worry for what it was - fear. When I look into your eyes, I know the truth, all of it, both good and bad. I know how hard it was to lose his heart, and I know how difficult it was to leave him. But I also know that your heart is now free to love me, and that what we share cannot be destroyed.” Lindir knelt before his king. “Never, my love, it will never be destroyed.” He pressed his face into Thranduil’s hand as the king caressed his face. “You are everything I ever wanted. What I had with Glorfindel was a dream; it was not real. This, this is real.” He parted his lips as his lover leaned down and kissed him. At last, he was whole; he knew who he was, he knew where he belonged, and he would never lose that feeling, ever. * * * * Legolas blinked slowly, a smile curving his lips as his body tingled in the aftermath of his spent passion. A long sigh escaped his lips as Gildor stirred, and he murmured, “I love you.” Gildor turned his head, breathing in the woodsy scent of his prince’s hair as it fell over his shoulder. “I love you, Legolas,” he answered, “so very much.” Legolas smiled. “This was quite a welcome.” Gildor chuckled. “Aye, and I expect it to be repaid in full later this eve.” Legolas laughed. “I bet you do. That is but one of the things I love about you, Gildor. You give as well as you take.” Gildor laughed aloud. “Such the romantic.” Legolas rolled to his back as he chuckled. “Well, you know me.” He reached up and pushed Gildor’s hair behind his ears as his lover moved to cover him with his form. “Tell me something.” “Anything.” “Do you want to sail?” Gildor frowned a little. “Aye, but I will not leave without you.” “Who says I do not want to sail as well?” Gildor raised an eyebrow. “Do you?” “I would if it was what you wanted. You know that there is nothing I would not do for you.” “I know. But I would not have you live your life for me, my love.” “Nor would I have you live yours for me.” “I have lived my life for myself long enough, I think. No, my place is here, with you, for as long as that may be.” “Have you ever felt like you were waiting for something to happen?” “Aye, more times than I care to think of – most often, it was on the battlefield, the night before a great struggle.” “I feel like something is going to happen, but I do not yet know what. I feel like there is something I have to do, something important, but I do not know what it is.” Gildor caressed his beloved’s face. “It will become clear, in time.” Legolas nodded and raised his legs onto Gildor’s hips. “Do we have time for a little more of this before we must prepare for the feast?” He wiggled his eyebrows. Gildor laughed softly. “You are insatiable. You do know that, yes?” Legolas lowered his eyes coyly and purred. “Can you blame me when I have such rich meat to feed upon?” Gildor lowered himself so that their lips almost touched. “Is that what I am, meat?” “Mmm… yes, of the most exquisite and delicious variety. So strong, so ravenous. I wager I have the most skilled and hungry lover in all of Middle-earth.” “Well, who could blame me when I have such a beauteous banquet?” Legolas smiled as his beloved’s lips softly brushed his own. “Then we are well matched,” he whispered. “We are indeed,” Gildor murmured, before pressing a possessive kiss to his prince’s mouth. Title: Resurrection, 50/50 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: Long journeys come to an end and a new one begins. As the weeks passed, the four old friends grew more at ease with one another, and Thranduil and Legolas joined the once tightly knit circle of kinship. Legolas and Erestor quickly became friendly, as Erestor appreciated Legolas’ innate sense of curiosity and he quickly began indoctrinating the young prince with the history of Middle Earth, and the ways of politics and negotiation. Erestor was glad that there was no awkwardness or jealousy in the prince’s heart, and he was sincerely glad that Legolas and Gildor were so in love. He would always love Gildor in some way, but the truth was that he had always been in love with Glorfindel. The caves were bustling with activity, and of course, Erestor could not resist first joining in, then taking over. Thankfully, Thranduil’s own seneschal was more than understanding, and it turned out that both he and Erestor shared the same sense of taste and attention to detail, so the planning went smoothly. It was a cool, bright, breezy autumn afternoon when four old friends reclined on a hillside, soaking in Anor’s rays. Glorfindel and Erestor lay close together, and Lindir and Gildor rested on their own blankets. Lindir held a small flower in between his fingers, twirling it around, occasionally bringing it to his nose. Gildor lay on his back, looking up at the sky and watching fluffy, white clouds pass overhead. None said a word; they merely enjoyed one another’s company, just as they used to do in the old days. Lindir remembered one fateful, cold, yet bright winter’s day long ago when the four of them were on a picnic. Things were different then – he lay in Glorfindel’s arms, while Erestor and Gildor sat nearby – nonetheless, it was similar, just four friends enjoying time together. This day, unlike that one in the far off past, there was no awkwardness, no secrets. This day there was only the calm comfort of shared pasts and kinship, and the sense of a bright new day to come. “Can you do something for me, the both of you?” Gildor asked quietly. No names needed to be said, they all knew who Gildor was addressing. “Of course,” Erestor said. “I feel in my heart that evil still lurks this earth, and I know that one day, Legolas will have to face it. I need to know that when that day comes, he will face it and survive it. I need to know that he will come home to me when it is done.” Erestor frowned and began to query his friend when Glorfindel interrupted him. “You know we will,” Glorfindel answered. “I will train him myself.” He looked at Erestor. Erestor looked back at Glorfindel then turned his gaze to Gildor, who was still looking at the sky. “And I will be sure that he knows of all of the Dark Lord’s tricks, strengths, and weaknesses. I will be sure that he knows all that has come before.” “Thank you,” Gildor answered. “It is what friends do,” Erestor replied. Gildor smiled. “Aye, Erestor, it is.” * * * * They stood on the same hillside that they had all gathered upon just two days before. This day the glade was decked in autumn flowers and garlands made from preserved leaves and acorns. The sky was bright blue and the air smelled of cedar and snow from the mountains to the west. Thranduil was in full Sindarin regalia, his robes and crown reflecting the color and foliage of the wood he ruled. Lindir was dressed in pale blue and shimmering silver, the colors of the winter night sky. Gildor was clad in the traditional colors of his house, his sword strapped to his hip and a mithril circlet upon his head. Legolas was dressed similar to his father in hues of deep green and soft brown, only less ornate; he also wore a circlet – his was woven with green leaves. Glorfindel and Erestor stood as witnesses, hand in hand as they listened to the couples exchange vows. Erestor felt his eyes well with tears. Gildor and Lindir were two of the elves he had always counted as family, and now he watched them promise their hearts and lives to one another. Only once had he been happier in his life, and that was the day of his own bonding. Long years of pain, denial, guilt, and separation were now behind them. This day, all of them were right where they belonged. The end of the ceremony was marked by a great cheer, and all the guests and witnesses made their way inside as Anor began her descent into the west. The caves were alive with joyous merriment as music, feasting, drinking and dancing carried on into the night. Erestor felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to face Gildor. He smiled, fighting back the urge to cry as he looked into Gildor’s bright, wise eyes. “Thank you,” Gildor said. “For what?” Erestor asked. “For being my friend, for loving me all those years, and for teaching me how to love in return.” Erestor could no longer hold back the tears as he leaned into Gildor’s embrace. “You are welcome,” he said softly. “And I thank you for the same.” As they separated, he caressed his friend’s cheek. He would no longer remember their love with anguish and guilt – from now on, he would remember it fondly. “Now go and put those lessons to good use,” he said quietly. “Your mate awaits you.” Gildor smiled then left Erestor standing near Glorfindel – it was where he belonged. * * * * Legolas lay in Gildor’s arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. A smile curved his lips. It was impossible to convey how complete he felt, how at peace he was when he was with Gildor, especially now that they were bonded. It seemed to him that they really were each meant for the other all along. He looked forward to their life journey, to seeing the Misty Mountains and the Hidden Valley, and the wide world outside of Greenwood. Most of all, he looked forward to meeting those others whom Gildor loved so deeply; they were a large part of his mate’s life, and he wanted to know them all. Gildor’s arms closed around him and he heard his mate sigh in satisfaction. He was also satisfied; as he had always known, he had given Gildor what he needed, and in return, Gildor had taught him what he needed to know about being a warrior-prince. “I love you,” he murmured. “Mmm . . . I love you,” Gildor replied sleepily. Legolas smiled and closed his eyes, sliding into a deep, satisfying reverie. * * * * Lindir looked up at his beloved. Thranduil hovered over him on his hands and knees, his skin glistening in the firelight, his hair loose, hanging wildly around his head, his eyes dark as night and sparkling like the midnight sky. His whole body thrummed with desire, attuned to his king’s every movement. He waited to be taken, possessed, filled, and loved beyond his wildest dreams. Despite the long years, each time they made love it felt like the first – each time caused him to tremble and shiver; each time he was overwhelmed. “I wish to give you something, my songbird,” Thranduil murmured in a deep rumbling tone, “this night that is most blessed among all others.” “You have given me everything I could ever have wanted already,” Lindir replied breathlessly. “But there is yet more that you have not dreamed of nor asked for. There is what I have never given anyone before. There is what I will give to no one but you.” Lindir swallowed. His arousal strained and wept upon his stomach, slick with oil and his own seed. His king’s also stood proud, glistening in the warm light; the sight of it caused him to ache deep inside. It was a feeling he could not describe. “What?” he whispered. “This.” Thranduil rose to his knees and took Lindir’s length in his hand. Lindir gasped and groaned as his king lowered himself upon his lap, and he was seated deep inside Thranduil’s body. He fisted the sheets of their bed as his swollen length was taken deep and swallowed by his beloved’s tight passage. “Sweet Elbereth,” he whispered hoarsely. Only once in his life had he ever experienced this sensation, and that was long ago when he was but a youth and his golden lover was teaching him all about the ways of pleasure. He gazed upon his mate, watching Thranduil’s chest rise and fall, seeing the sweat bead upon it as the king willed his body to relax. His king’s head hung back, and deep midnight blue eyes stared unfixed at the ceiling. Luscious, pink lips, wetted and shining, were parted as Thranduil took deep breaths. Lindir both recalled his own first breeching and was flooded by the sensations of this experience, and he reached up and caressed his mate’s hips, whispering words of love and encouragement. It was as much emotional as it was physical, this newfound sensation that Thranduil was experiencing. Never had the king ever allowed himself to feel so vulnerable. “I love you,” Lindir murmured as Thranduil began to move. “I love you so much.” “I love you,” his mate replied, as Thranduil’s head fell forward and their eyes met. “Help me, Lindir,” the king murmured. “Move inside me.” Lindir complied, slowly flexing and raising his hips, reveling in the tight warmth of his mate’s body. He reached for Thranduil’s turgid length and stroked it, feeling his own climax burning his blood. His king’s beautiful body moved like water, muscles coiling and stretching, his amber nipples erect and aching to be touched. The deep moans that issued from his beloved caused him to moan in response, and he gripped his mate’s hip tightly in one hand as he increased the pace of his other hand upon Thranduil’s arousal. “Come for me, my love,” Lindir whispered hoarsely. “Let me see your face, let me feel your essence upon my hand, let me feel you hold me tight inside you.” Thranduil’s jaw was clenched, and he growled as his seed spilled over Lindir’s hand, then Lindir uttered a cry of release as he flooded Thranduil’s body with his own essence. As Thranduil came to rest atop him, Lindir wrapped both his arms and legs around his mate. Nuzzling the king’s ear he whispered, “Thank you, my love.” Thranduil smiled. He was feeling sore, yet strangely satisfied. “Anything for you, Lindir,” he murmured. “Sleep now,” Lindir purred. “Sleep in my arms.” He pressed a kiss to the top of his king’s head, then closed his eyes and drifted into a warm, deep sleep. * * * * “When you meet him, kneel and bow your head. He may not hold an official title, but he is among the best and wisest of all of us.” Legolas smiled and squeezed his father’s shoulder. “I will, Ada. I will make you proud.” Thranduil smiled and cupped his son’s cheek. “You always do, Greenleaf; you always do.” His expression grew more serious. “Now, keep alert and mind your back on the road. The mountain passes are narrow and provide opportunity for ambush.” “Yes, Ada. I am in good company, Glorfindel and Gildor will let no harm come to me.” Thranduil took Legolas’ head in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “You are a prince, you are my son, you are Sindar – the most noble and wise of the elven kindred, be proud of that.” “I am, Ada. I love you.” “I love you too, Greenleaf.” He released Legolas and watched him walk toward his horse. He then felt Lindir’s arms around his waist, and he turned and took his mate’s face in his hands. “I am going to miss you, my songbird. But I will take solace in knowing how happy seeing your old home and your friends will make you.” “Are you sure you cannot come?” Lindir asked, knowing the answer. “Ai, my beautiful, gentle Lindir. I cannot. But you take my heart with you.” “And you hold mine here, my love. I shall take good care of yours.” Thranduil smiled. “It will be so quiet here without your music, but your return gives me something to look forward to.” “We shall go swimming in the river and make love beneath the waterfall.” “Aye, that we shall, songbird; that we shall. I love you, Lindir.” Lindir held his king tight. “I love you, Thranduil.” “Now go, you cannot waste daylight.” Lindir pulled back and kissed his mate soundly, causing more than one raised eyebrow and grin amongst the palace guard. Then he descended the short stair and mounted his horse, turning and blowing a kiss to his elven king before riding out of the gates. It was a new beginning, one that could not start until Lindir reconnected with his old life. Elrond would soon have sons. How Thranduil knew that they would one day be important to Legolas, he could not account for; nevertheless, he knew it to be true. This day he watched them ride from his gates, and come spring, Lindir would return to him. It was not the last time he would witness such and he hoped that there would be many homecomings to celebrate in the years to come. ~ Finis