Title: Greenleaf & Imladris 24 – Double Trouble
Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Elrohir/Legolas, Elladan/OFC (Nimeithel)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Baby-sitting Elladan’s rambunctious twins can lead to the most
interesting situations as Legolas and Elrohir discover.
Disclaimer: I write for the sheer love of it.  All else belongs to the 
master
of storytelling, JRR Tolkien.

Double Trouble

Chapter I
Imladris FA 60
Golden light streamed through the veiled windows as Anór slowly made
her ascent into the early morning sky.  But to Elrohir, her bright glimmer
was no match for the incandescence of his shining prince.  He let out a
shuddery breath as each lowering motion of Legolas’ hips gloved him in
sweet velvet heat.

In the throes of passion, Legolas was ever more beautiful to behold.  That
only he had the privilege and the right to see the archer thusly was a gift
the Elf-knight never took for granted.  He gazed intently at his mate as the
other slid down upon his swollen length, willingly piercing himself with
each sinuous movement.  Crystalline eyes glazed with rapture, rosy lips
parted in ecstasy, ivory skin stained with the faintest of color, he
repeatedly sheathed his darkling spouse in the silken core of his being.

Twilight eyes gleaming lustfully, Elrohir released his hold on the prince’s
proud length and reached for the latter’s hand.  He guided it to the 
archer’s
shaft, curled it around the turgid column, then wrapped his own hand
around the prince’s.  He smiled when Legolas’ eyes widened
questioningly.

/Pleasure yourself, melethron./

The prince’s cheeks flushed with deeper color but he obeyed.  His
breathing turned ragged as he became conscious of the sweeping gaze of
his spouse, watching his pleasure-suffused countenance, dropping lazily in
appreciative regard of his slender yet muscular form straddling him before
settling on the steady stroking of their coupled hands upon his length.  A
throaty moan escaped his lips.  Even the way the Elf-knight looked at him
had the power to undo him.

Sensation swept through the binding-channel as they wholly surrendered
themselves to their joining.  The sight of Legolas with golden head thrown
back in the extremes of rapture, gasping helplessly as he came to the brink
of completion pushed Elrohir over the edge as well.

He hastened their shared caressing even as he thrust his hips up to take the
archer deep and hard, spending himself copiously within his mate.
Legolas unraveled completely.  Barely stifling a keening cry, he sobbed
out Elrohir’s name as his body exploded with his release, dappling the Elf-
knight’s chest with his pearlescent seed.

He all but collapsed onto Elrohir’s chest.  For several moments, they lay
quietly, waiting for their hearts to slow down, their breathing to deepen.
Legolas raised himself slightly to gaze at his mate, resting one arm on the
twin’s chest.  Elrohir looked him over languidly.  Silver gold hair tousled,
fair skin marked with crimson and purple bruises, Legolas looked
thoroughly debauched and thoroughly loved.

“Have I ever told you how prettily you blush?” Elrohir teased softly.

Legolas’ eyes flashed objectingly at the use of the term “pretty.”  He was
about to make a retort when something crashed against their door.  No,
make that two things.  Elflings on the cusp of adolescence to be precise.

The prince stared in apprehension at the door, expecting it to burst wide
open and reveal him still atop and astride Elrohir, as bare as the day he
was born and in the most indecent of poses.  But though the insistent
pounding on the other side continued, the door did not yield.

“Elros!  Elendir!  I would have a word with you two!”

Iorwen’s exasperated outburst elicited a duet of chortles before the sound
of fading footfalls announced the departure of the second set of twins to
grace – or plague – the Last Homely House’s hallowed halls.

Legolas sank back down on Elrohir’s chest with relief.  The Elf-knight
chuckled.  “You need not have worried.  I bolted the door last night.”

Legolas looked up at him with some amusement.  “How foresighted of
you,” he remarked.

“Only prepared,” Elrohir said.  “Think you I would leave anything to
chance with those two around?”  He reached behind and caressed his
golden mate’s firm but nicely rounded bottom.  “I have no liking for
interruptions particularly when you are so deliciously engrossed in your
riding.”

Legolas snickered then moved to get off his spouse.  Elrohir held him
down firmly.

“Nay.”

Legolas stared at him, heat beginning to pool in his groin all over again.

”What of breakfast?” he inquired, not really interested in said meal.

Elrohir rolled them over.  He grinned wickedly at his once again rosy-
hued mate.

“This is breakfast enough for me,” he drawled.  And bent to partake of his
spouse’s ample offerings.

It was late morning when he came upon Elladan in the archery yard,
overseeing his sons’ training.  While the warriors, Daurin and Enedrion,
were more than capable of instructing the twins in weaponry use, Elladan
still personally took part in their lessons.  He was merely following in his
father’s footsteps for Elrond had done the same even if his sons had been
under the able tutelage of Glorfindel and Erestor.

Elrohir smiled approvingly as his nephews showed time and again that
they were indeed their father’s sons.  Elladan’s proud countenance
betrayed much the same sentiment, only greater.

“So, why was Iorwen after the pin nith”—young ones—“this morning?”
the younger twin asked.  The housekeeper’s ire had not dissipated by the
time he and Legolas had emerged from their chamber, her black mood
palpable in every word and deed and scowl.

Elladan’s smile faded and he sighed, shaking his head.  “She had bread
dough rising overnight,” he said.  “They made good use of it.  You should
have seen the kitchen.”

Elrohir did not know whether to groan or laugh.  Because of the coolness
of early spring, yeast doughs took longer to rise than usual.  Hence,
Iorwen’s practice of leaving her pans of dough to double in volume
overnight.  He wondered what Elendir and Elros had done with last night’s
batch.  On second thought, he decided he did not want to know.

He mildly inquired of his brother if he planned to leave Imladris in
shambles.  Their father had not left the refuge in their hands only to have 
it
fall apart at the soonest possible opportunity!

Elladan grimaced then rolled his eyes.  “Nimeithel and I need a rest,” he
said.  “A long one!”  He regarded his twins with equal parts love and
annoyance.

“Then come with me to Lindon this summer,” a deep voice interrupted.

The brethren turned around to affectionately bid their grandsire good
morn.  Celeborn had come to live with them thirty years ago.  Torn
between his yearning for his departed wife and the still powerful hold
Middle-earth had upon him, the former Lord of the Golden Wood had
abandoned East Lórien and come to Imladris to be with his grandsons.  In
them, he saw glimpses of his beloved lady – in their sage eyes, their
indomitable spirits, their blithe beauty.  They balmed his lonely spirit as 
he
gradually weaned himself from the allure of these Hither Lands.  It was
something the brethren understood.

Elves who had never seen the light of the Two Trees, who had not
previously tasted the rarified bliss of Valinor could hardly be expected to
wish to leave the land of their birth and cleave to one that was foreign to
them in every respect.  One such as Celeborn, who was amongst the few
who had survived through three ages of the world, would also be most
hardily bound to Middle-earth.  Eventually, his heart’s yearning would
win but, for now, he needed to wrestle himself free of the tender fetters of
his birthplace.

Elladan considered Celeborn’s invitation.  It was not the first time their
grandsire had journeyed to Lindon since his arrival in Rivendell.  The
Grey Havens, too, held memories of his years with Galadriel for they had
dwelt there for a time ere they moved east to Lórien.

“‘Tis tempting, Grandfather,” he said.  “We have scarcely had any time to
ourselves since the twins became more active.”

Elrohir snorted.  “I can think of more appropriate words than ‘active,’
gwaniuar”—older twin—he gibed.  “They are veritable whirlwinds.”

Celeborn smiled dryly.  “Hardly surprising considering your own less than
placid childhoods,” he pointed out.  “‘Tis a credit to your father that
Imladris still stands.  Would that it stays standing until you see fit to 
join
him over sea.”

Elrohir guffawed while Elladan could only sigh in resignation.  His mind
was made up for him a few days later.

Not even in his and Elrohir’s day had the barracks of Rivendell been so set
on its figurative head.  But what did one expect when virtually every
warrior found his beddings infiltrated with sweets that attracted seemingly
every ant and other sundry insects with a sweet tooth in the valley!  After
pacifying the plentiful victims and punishing the two perpetrators of this
latest crime, Elladan decided enough was enough.  He and his wife would
take that much needed rest, thank you!

Elrohir and Legolas knew better than to gainsay him even if the prospect
of tending to their unruly nephews for the length of a season was not
exactly inviting.  When Elladan was in a state of extreme dudgeon, his
rage could equal his twin’s and that was an even more fearsome prospect
in everyone’s opinion.

*******
The afternoon before their departure, Nimeithel took some time to settle
herself after all the hustle and bustle of preparations for a two-month stay
at the Grey Havens.  She roamed the gardens, letting the colors and
fragrances of the blooms and greenery soothe her somewhat frazzled
spirit.

Truth be told, she felt a little melancholic this day.  Elladan had not been
exaggerating when he declared they’d hardly had time together for so
long.  But even more lacking than the length of time was the quality of it.
Even intimacy, or rather the spontaneity and variety of it, had been sorely
lacking.  In this she was more at fault than Elladan.

So taken had she been with motherhood that she not been as attentive to
her beloved husband.  Hopefully, this sojourn away from the cares and
worries of raising their twins would help mend things.  But she was
conscious of a need to do something more active in hastening said
mending.

She came upon the summerhouse at length and paused to regard it
curiously.  She knew it had been seldom visited in the years after
Celebrían’s departure and the reasons for such neglect.  She herself had
only entered the cottage twice before and that had been during her first
years of marriage to Elladan.

But in recent years, Elrohir had taken it and transformed it into a retreat
for himself and Legolas.  Nimeithel realized she had not yet seen what
changes her law-brother had wrought upon the cottage.  Her curiosity got
the better of her and she pushed open the door.

She never got to study any alterations in detail.  For as she stepped into 
the
summerhouse, her attention was snagged by the most telling of sounds.
She froze.  Was that a – a moan?

A wooden latticed panel by the door served as a divider between entrance
and main hall.  Cautiously, noiselessly, she peered through the latticework
into the main hall.  She nearly gasped out loud.

Two magnificent forms reclined on the thick rug in the center of the hall.
Two magnificent forms presently indulging in the most intimate of
encounters.

Nimeithel’s eyes widened at this sight of her brother and law-brother.  She
had always known of their passion, their vigorous loving.  But to be aware
of their concupiscence was one thing; to actually witness it was an entirely
different matter.

Trembling nervously, she moved to retreat before either became aware of
her presence.  That was when Legolas uttered the most unusual of sounds.
It told of exquisite torment, the likes of which she had never heard before
from her own husband.  What in Arda could the Elf-knight be doing to
elicit such a vocal testament of excruciating bliss from her brother?

Drawing a deep breath, she peered once more into the main hall.  And all
but goggled.  A few moments later her brother found blessed if explosive
relief.  He lay panting, staring dazedly at Elrohir as he crept up between
his thighs, too spent to do much more than whimper.

When Elrohir, smiling wickedly, urged the fair archer’s legs around his
waist, Nimeithel knew she had seen enough.  She did not think her proud,
fierce warrior brother would appreciate the idea of anyone watching him
surrender so completely.  Not that she had any intention of ever letting
him know she’d observed them.  Still, accidents happened and if she did
inadvertently slip up, she wanted to be able to honestly say that she had
seen nothing more than Elrohir’s initial pleasuring.

Face scarlet at having witnessed such intense intimacy, Nimeithel beat a
hasty retreat.  But even as she all but flew from the cottage, she found
herself wondering about what she had seen.

She was aware that their relationship was equal on all levels.  Legolas took
Elrohir often as well; he had hinted that much to her during their sibling
confidences.  Proudly at that, she grinned to herself.  But also as if it 
were
an honor.  He was almost reverent when he alluded to it.

He knows Elrohir’s pride, she mused as she walked back to the house.  For
the younger twin to yield was the greatest proof of his utmost love and
trust.  Before Legolas, Elrohir had never submitted to any of the male
lovers he had bedded.  Not even for curiosity’s sake had he considered
yielding even once.  In this, he and Elladan had differed.

Elladan.  Nimeithel stopped in her tracks.

Legolas had enjoyed what Elrohir had done to him.  Indeed, enjoyed was a
flagrant understatement.  If such had been the effect of Elrohir’s attention
to that particular part of her brother’s anatomy, might it not be the same
for...?

Her eyes widened with delight.  A mischievous smile graced her
beauteous countenance, calling to mind Legolas’ own expression at his
most wicked.

Mayhap I shall have to let him know what I saw, she thought.  How else
will I get him to tell me what to do?  For a moment, she wondered if she
could stomach Legolas’ expected reaction.  But images of her husband
being reduced to the same straits strengthened her resolve.

Legolas could yell and sputter and curse all he wanted but she would drag
the information out of him if she had to!

*******
It was late evening when the Elven princess dared to approach him.  The
brethren were in the study, busy discussing something of import, which
meant Legolas was alone at present.  She hastened to his room.

He had been at the writing desk, taking care of correspondence when she
sought entry.  Now he rose from the table and smiled welcomingly,
correctly discerning her reason for coming to him.

“What is it, thel neth?”—younger sister?—he said indulgently.

Nimeithel gulped and said: “I need to know something before we leave
tomorrow.”

“I suspected as much,” Legolas grinned.  “Ask.”

Heart beating madly, Nimeithel drew a deep breath and, without pausing
in between words, queried: “What was it that Elrohir did with his fingers
while he was, er, suckling you that you enjoyed so much?”

She held her breath as her brother stared at her for a moment, stupefied.
And then his countenance came alive, reflecting a riotous mix of
emotions, the most blatant being downright shock.

“What do—?” he spluttered.  “How—?”

“I saw you this afternoon – in the summerhouse,” she admitted.  “‘Twas
not on purpose,” she hurried on as his eyes widened.

“You spied on us?” he growled, eyes now flashing angrily.

“I did not intend to,” she countered.  “Indeed, I was hastening to leave but
then you made a sound of such – such divine bliss, it rendered me curious
as to what Elrohir was doing to you.  And so I – peeked.”

“*Nimeithel!!!*”

She winced at his bellow.  What would the others make of it? she
flusteredly thought.  For surely no one could have failed to hear it.  Yet
she stood her ground.  She was the sweetest tempered of Thranduil’s
children but she, too, bore a streak of her family’s legendary pride and
stubbornness.  She could be as mule-headed as her brothers when she
wanted something.

“You need not shout,” she huffed.  “Just tell me what he did and I will
go.”

Legolas stared at her as if she had grown a set of horns and a snout.  “Why
in Middle-earth do you want to know *that*?” he demanded when he
found his voice.

In that instant, her courage failed her and she blushed deeply.  Suddenly
feeling uncertain, she could only squeak: “Elladan.”

Her brother stared at her a moment.  “Elladan?” he echoed.

She nodded in patent embarrassment.  “I have dreadfully neglected him
these past many months,” she explained a little stumblingly.  “We shall
have these two months to ourselves and I should very much like to do
something special for him – something different.”

The effect of her answer on Legolas was astonishing to say the least.  One
moment he was fuming and glowering at her in umbrage.  The next, his
stare gave way to raised eyebrows, wide eyes and the dawning of a
particularly wolfish grin.

“I see,” he murmured thoughtfully.  Of a sudden, his grin turned positively
evil.  He reached for her right hand and held it up, studying her fingers.
He looked at her.  “You will have to shorten your nails first,” he informed
her.

For a spell, she gaped at him uncomprehendingly.  And then she realized
what he was implying.  The wicked smile that came to grace her face
mirrored his.

*******
Elrohir grinned as his brother mounted his horse behind Nimeithel with
considerable relief.  It was quite clear that Elladan, while very much a
loving father, was truly feeling the need for a respite from his sons’
numerous and incessant scrapes.  Not to mention time alone with his wife
without the constant threat of an untimely interruption.

His grin widened as he noted the gleam in Elladan’s eyes when he curled
his arm around Nimeithel and pulled her just a bit tighter against his tall
frame.  The older twin pressed a kiss against his blushing wife’s slender
neck.

“Fie on you, tôr iuar”—older brother—Elrohir chuckled.  “You have not
even left Imladris and already you are rutting like a horse.  Will you
trouble Grandfather’s sleep on the way to Lindon?”

Elladan snorted and looked just a tad defiantly at Celeborn.  The Elvenlord
simply shook his head in amusement and said: “I assure you I will look the
other way should you decide to amuse yourself before we reach Lindon.
But do keep the noise down, if you will.  I would not care to frighten the
horses.”

Elrohir and Legolas guffawed while Elladan had the grace to grin with
scapegrace charm.  He looked one more time at his sons.

“I expect you to behave yourselves,” he admonished them, not for the first
time.

“We will, Ada”—Papa—the twins chorused.

“In a pig’s eye,” Legolas scoffed, resorting to his Dwarf friend Gimli’s
favorite expression of scepticism.  Nimeithel caught his eye and winked at
him conspiratorially.  He winked back with a smirk.

The travellers rode out of the courtyard of the Last Homely House.  As
soon as they were out of sight, Legolas and Elrohir turned to regard their
nephews.

Both looked utterly adorable and utterly innocent.  Their uncles knew
better.

Autumn had never been so looked forward to before.

***********
Glossary:
Anór - the sun
Melethron – lover (m.)

=====================================================
============

Chapter II
The Last Homely House, Imladris
The warrior looked up from the report he was reading.  Was someone
calling to him?

“Elrohir!”

He peered out the window of their bedchamber and saw Legolas in the
gardens below signaling to him to come down and go to the back of the
house.  The archer’s tone of voice brooked no delay or refusal to accede to
his summons.  With a sigh, Elrohir set aside the sheaf of parchment sheets
and left the room.  *Now what?*

Since the departure of Elladan and Nimeithel for Mithlond with Celeborn
but two weeks ago, he and Legolas had seldom had a moment’s peace.
Elendir and Elros were proving as much a handful as he and Elladan had
once been though not necessarily for the exact same reasons.

Elrond’s sons had rocked Rivendell with the pranks they had enjoyed
unleashing on the vale’s various inhabitants.  But they had never courted
danger for themselves or others in the line of mischievous duty and any
visits to the healing chambers had been for the most minor of bumps, cuts
and bruises.  Elladan’s sons were a different case.  They liked plaguing the
valley’s citizens to distraction as much as their father and uncle once had
but they were also inclined to end up in the hands of the healers simply
because they were too exuberant for their own good.

They were constantly colliding with walls and trees and posts as well as
each other and everyone else in the name of play.  As soon as they had
learned to climb they had tried out their skills on just about everything 
and
anything that looked interesting.  Thus, they had steadily progressed from
tables to trees to the Last Homely House’s steep rooftops.  Not a week
seemed to pass that they did not make a trip to the healers for medical
attention for gashes, abrasions and lumps.  About the only thing they had
not had to be treated for as yet, thank the Valar, were broken bones.

As Elrohir hastened to meet up with the archer, he thought a little
uncharitably that, while broken bones were not in the least to be desired, a
sprained ankle now and then would do the twins some good.  Not to
mention the beleaguered healers and all those they had targeted for one
prank or another.

When he came out of the house, Legolas grabbed him by the arm and
wordlessly led him beyond the stables to the poultry yard.  Several
servants were gathered around the enclosure that housed the fowl
population of the Last Homely House.  Elrohir came to a stop and stared
bemusedly at their nephews’ latest handiwork.

The red-crested cocks and hens that normally strutted about with proud,
almost arrogant elegance were staggering about, crashing into each other
and anything else in their way.  And they were clucking most idiotically
and vociferously.  If he did not know better, Elrohir would have thought
them inebriated for they behaved as any drunkard would.

“What is wrong with them?” he asked worriedly, peering into the pen.

Legolas let out an exasperated breath.  “Our dear nephews laced their feed
with ale,” he said.

Elrohir stared at him in shock.  Elbereth!  The poor things *were*
inebriated!

“And have you dealt with them?” he queried, wincing as a couple of hens
stumbled over each other, then started a wobbly fight as a consequence.

“I confined them to the library for the day to help Lindir and Ailios
catalogue the new books and scrolls,” Legolas said.  “With luck, that
should keep them out of trouble for a while.  I hope.”

Elrohir sighed and shook his head.  He grimaced in sympathy as he
observed one amorous but unfortunately confused cock try to mount one
of his fellows and receive a vicious peck for his trouble.

********
The Grey Havens, Lindon
Elladan looked up from his book as Nimeithel swept into their room in the
seaward wing of Círdan’s house, the wispy skirt of her dressing gown
trailing behind her.  He set the book down to look at his wife with more
than mere appreciation.  The raiment she was clad in was very fetching
indeed, especially since it hinted at the very delights it was supposed to
conceal.  His storm blue eyes darkened.

Thus far, they were enjoying their reprieve from raising their much loved
but all too gamesome twins.  Strolls by the pebbly shores of the gulf,
relaxed sorties around Mithlond proper, late night trysts under the stars...
As far as Elladan was concerned, the last was the most rectifying activity
of all.

He had missed having his wife to himself.  He had missed having his wife,
period.

He grinned now as she slid enticingly onto the bed beside him, her eyes
sparkling with far from innocent intent.  He was about to teasingly ask her
what she had in mind when she suddenly pulled the covers off him, baring
him to her gaze.

Elladan did not blush, of course.  He felt no shame or shyness with her.
Not after all his countless years of carnal adventuring.  But he was
surprised at her forward behavior.  Nimeithel was a most willing and
wanton partner but he took the lead more oft than not in their couplings.
After all, she had been a maid when he first loved her and as such had
been under his tutelage in love-play for the better part of their 
relationship
even unto their marriage.

“You are bold tonight,” he remarked softly as she let her grey eyes sweep
and linger on his tall frame.

“With one as beautiful as you, melethen”—my love—“‘tis difficult to
restrain one’s self,” she purred, slipping between his legs, nudging them
apart insistently.

Again, he regarded her with some surprise.  But he was distracted when
her gown parted down the front to reveal naught but her own flesh to his
gaze.  He drew in his breath sharply as the very sight of her charms caused
his groin to heat up deliciously.  It was what she was waiting for.

With a smile of purest lust, Nimeithel dipped her head and proceeded to
attend to her husband’s suddenly aching need.  Elladan gasped at her
audacity before deciding to let her have her way with him.  It was not a
difficult decision at all considering the delightful havoc she was wreaking
upon him.  Besides, she had proven a most adept pupil in this particular
form of pleasuring him.  Who was he to complain?  He was not in the least
averse to letting her indulge him through this well-taught act.

Caught in her sensual thrall, he did not notice what she was about.  Did
not realize how she intended to employ her lithe and slender fingers.  Until
she did.

Celeborn nearly leaped from his bed.  Sweet Eru!  Was that Elladan he
had just heard?  He was all set to race to the neighboring room when he
suddenly recognized the nature of the sound that had awakened him.  For a
moment, the Elvenlord stared at the wall that separated him from his
grandson.  And then he groaned, got back into bed and pulled a pillow
over his head.

The following morning dealt him another cause for discomfiture when
Círdan mildly alluded to his inability to sleep soundly the night before.  
It
was all he could do not to grab the shipwright by his beard when the latter
had the cheek to tell him that it seemed his grandson had taken after him
in such vociferous expressions of bliss if his memories of Celeborn’s long
ago Lindon nights with Galadriel were accurate!

********
The Last Homely House, Imladris
Ordinarily, the study was the best place in which to report an infraction to
the master of Rivendell.  But on this day, it was the worst.  Indeed, any
enclosed space was highly unsuitable and Legolas thought Daurin should
have realized it.

He did his best not to snicker as Daurin recounted his latest encounter with
Elendir and Elros.  Or rather with the jest they had played on him.  It was
difficult to keep a serious mien when Rivendell’s formidable captain
smelled like a bouquet of varied blossoms, the aroma of it seeming to
expand and deepen in the warmth of the chamber.

Indeed, Elrohir had risen to his feet and stayed by the open window behind
Elrond’s august desk almost as soon as Daurin entered the room.  It was
the only way he could keep from passing out from the overpowering
sweetness that emanated from the Imladrin captain.  He glanced at his
mate who sat by the other window and had to stifle his own smile.  Yet he
was also filled with exasperation anew, an emotion that seemed to be in
great supply these days.

Daurin’s tale was but the latest in a string describing the escapades that
would have done the twins’ parents proud had they been of a more
productive nature.  Unfortunately, replacing part of the captain’s herb-
scented bath oil with a mixture of their mother’s flowery fragrances did
not fall in that category.  And even more unfortunate for the good captain,
the lordlings had gotten wind of his habit of pouring the oil in after he 
had
immersed himself in his bathwater and put the knowledge to effective use.
Daurin had not sniffed the altogether feminine scent of the brew until
much too late.

Both Elvenlords sighed with relief when the warrior exited the study,
fanning the air in front of their noses most emphatically.  The less than
pleasing aroma of the combined scents of lavender, roses and gardenias
lingered for a spell in the room.  Elrohir looked across at Legolas with an
expression that defied description.

“Count yourself fortunate that they have not turned their dubious talents
on us thus far,” he remarked.

Legolas laughed.  “Nay, they adore you too much to besmirch your dignity
in any way.  And if I have been spared, ‘tis simply because it would
displease you were I to be similarly besieged.”

Elrohir grinned but shook his head.  “You belittle your worth to them,” he
said.  “They do not touch you either because they worship you, Calenlass.
As I do.”

The last he added under his breath, regarding his spouse with ill concealed
wanting.  Legolas felt his heart start to beat erratically.  Just one 
look...

“They will have to be chastened for this latest misdemeanor,” he managed
to say.  “Have you decided on the manner of it?”

Elrohir continued to gaze at him, the glittering argent of his eyes
darkening with each passing moment.  “We will think of something
suitable,” he said.  “Later.”

And his manner of speaking, Legolas thought distractedly.  Low and
suggestive and all too beguiling.  He swallowed hard as Elrohir beckoned
to him to join him.  Warmth suffused him as he moved to do as he was
bid.

Elrohir sank down upon the windowsill and pulled him onto his lap,
compelling Legolas to straddle his hips.  A moment later, the archer was
lost in a pillaging kiss that left him bereft of breath and thought while
knowing hands mapped the hard planes and contours of his lean form.  He
surrendered to the intoxicating sensuality of the Elf-knight’s caresses.

He closed his eyes as the warrior’s lips followed the sculpted line of his
jaw before slipping lower to nibble at his throat, dipping his tongue
seductively into the hollow at its base.  And then his mouth was captured
anew and plundered voraciously, until he was shuddering with the
pleasure of his imminent undoing.

Elrohir slipped his hand down between them and, with maddening
slowness, began to stroke Legolas’ crotch with the flat of his palm.  The
archer groaned gaspingly against his mate’s silencing lips as he was deftly
and inexorably brought to molten arousal.  He tensed with delicious
anticipation when he felt Elrohir tug at the lacing of his breeches.

The door burst open and slammed against the wall hard enough to leave a
fine web of eggshell cracks on the surface.  Elros rushed in prompting his
uncles to swiftly break apart, Legolas springing to his feet, fervently
hoping his long shirt would hide the telltale evidence of his arousal.  He
and Elrohir stared at the younger half of Imladris’ twin harbingers of
disturbances.

Elros was quite a sight, his shirt muddied, his breeches torn at one knee
exposing a nasty bloodied bruise, his hands crisscrossed with scratches
and his temple hosting a rapidly purpling lump.  Yet for all that, the lad
was startlingly comely, promising to be as beautiful as his father and uncle
when he came of age.

Elladan’s sons closely resembled him and his twin but traces of their
woodland grandsire’s striking features gave them a look all their own.
They were also more elven in their frames than their father or uncle and
thus bid fair to be as slender as Legolas.  But their most compelling
features were their eyes, the dove grey irises intriguingly ringed by deep
blue.

But this was not the time to indulge in idle contemplation of the twins’
beauteous luminosity.

Elrohir rose from the sill, prudently tugging his own shirt into place.
Other Elves would have been alarmed by the youngster’s appearance but
to the Elf-knight and his archer spouse, it was no more than the usual thing
to expect of either twin.

“What happened to you, Elros?” he queried.  “And where is Elendir?”

“I brought him to the healers, Uncle,” the youth said.  “They think he may
have broken his wrist.”

With admirable calm, Elrohir merely shook his head and said: “And what
were you two doing that led you to this pass?”

Elros flushed with embarrassment.  “We, um, got curious about Uncle
Las’ new stallion,” he admitted.

Legolas rolled his eyes in active annoyance.  “You mean you attempted to
ride him,” he tartly corrected.  When Elros reluctantly nodded, the prince
added acerbically: “Considering that I have yet to break him in, you are
fortunate ‘tis only your brother’s wrist that was broken.  Ai, you two will
never learn!”

Elros bit his lip then looked entreatingly at the Elf-knight.  “Will you not
come and see Elendir, Uncle Rohir?  He is quite frightened.”

“As he should be,” Elrohir retorted.  He strode out of the study, Elros
hurrying after him.

Legolas heaved a frustrated sigh.  Couldn’t the twins have waited until his
need had been attended to? he thought sourly.  He and Elrohir had not had
a decent coupling since the youngsters had been left in their charge.  There
always seemed to be one situation or another involving them that needed
their immediate attention, leaving little time for extended bed-play.  He
was beginning to understand Elladan’s oft voiced frustration.  Scowling,
he followed his spouse and nephew to the healing chambers.

Fortunately, the suspected break turned out to be nothing worse than a
sprain.  Both younglings were tended to swiftly.  But Elrohir’s observant
gaze brought something else to his attention.

He eyed his nephews severely.  “Were you the only ones injured?” he
questioned.

The lads flinched.  Their guilty gazes darted to the neighboring room
where a pair of healers was busy administering to two Imladrin warriors.

“Helmir and Dirion tried to help us when the stallion went wild,” Elendir
admitted.

“And thus suffered hurt on your account,” Elrohir finished for him.  “You
have gone too far in this instance, pin nith.”—young ones.

The twins gulped.  They oft pushed the limits of their elders’ tolerance but
they were not so heedless as to draw their uncle’s well-known fearsome
anger down upon them.  Elrohir’s tone of voice held a warning: a faint one
but very real nonetheless.

“I am in no position to chastise you for the jests you inflict on others,”
Elrohir said sternly.  “But to risk serious injury or worse to yourselves or
anyone else is not only foolish but deplorable.  You will apologize to
Helmir and Dirion and make amends soonest for your misconduct.  Do I
make myself clear?”

Elendir and Elros bowed their heads in shame.  “Yes, Uncle,” they
whispered in tandem.

After both children departed for their rooms, Legolas clapped a hand on
his darkling mate’s shoulder.

“Well done, Aduial,” he murmured.  “They need to be disciplined here
and then.”

Elrohir smiled wanly.  “They are as we once were,” he sighed.  “‘Tis
difficult to fault them overmuch when Elladan and I did much the same in
our foolish youth.”

Legolas shook his head.  “But you were ever careful to avoid hurting
anyone,” he said.

“Save for their pride,” Elrohir had to grin.

“Better their pride than their precious skins,” Legolas pointed out.  “‘Tis
something our nephews need to learn.”

He started when Elrohir suddenly snaked an arm around his waist and
pulled him close.

“And you, ernilen?”—my prince?—he teased huskily.  “What do you
need?”

Legolas gasped as he was clutched anon below the waist.  “You should
know since ‘twas you who induced it,” he rejoined, trying for indignation
and only managing compliance as his hips treacherously thrust into the
warrior’s clever hand.

“Then let me take care of it,” Elrohir crooned mischievously, backing the
archer up against the bed Elendir had just vacated.

“Here?  Now?” Legolas almost choked.  He looked about disconcertedly
only to discover that everyone had discreetly left them alone.

“Here.  Now.”  Elrohir smiled wickedly and lowered his wide-eyed,
crimson-cheeked mate onto the bed.


=====================================================
============

Chapter III
The Last Homely House became even less peaceful with the arrival for a
summer’s visit of the hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took.
The Master and the Thain had taken a month’s leave from families and
duties and come to Rivendell for a spell.

Both had weathered the years very well, still looking quite as youthful as
when they first set forth on the Quest with Legolas all those decades ago.
Of course, they had matured since then and, when attending to their duties
in the Shire, comported themselves with the dignity and restraint expected
of them.  But every now and then, their lively natures exerted themselves,
whereupon they would hie off to Rivendell or even far-off Rohan or
Gondor that they might cast off the cares of their stations in life.

Their visit happened to coincide with Gimli’s.  The Dwarf had also taken
time off from his responsibilities as Lord of Aglarond.  He was as
affectionately bluff with his friends as always and managed to convey his
great pleasure at seeing them all again without turning maudlin about it.

The further reduction in peace had to do with the fact that all three 
visitors
were given to loud declarations of their opinions on just about everything.
But they were most clamorous about the perils of being anywhere near
Elladan’s rambunctious twins.

Nevertheless, their presence was as much boon as bane to Elrohir and
Legolas.  With Elladan and Nimeithel enjoying their holiday in Mithlond
with Celeborn and Iorwen and her husband, Ailios, and even patient
Lindir determinedly keeping well out of the way, they were both at their
tethers’ end.  Now they gleefully drafted their friends into taking turns
with them in keeping an eye on the twins.  Or, as Gimli growlingly put it,
sentry duty.

“Your nephews are an unmitigated menace to society, Legolas!” Merry
declared after witnessing yet another of the brethren’s scrapes that had
their uncles packing them off for a day’s confinement in their rooms.

“Worse than a menace,” Pippin remarked.  “I cannot for the life of me
understand how any two creatures could cause so much trouble!”

Legolas skewered him with a glare.  “Coming from you, Master Peregrin,
that is the height of irony,” he said.  “Mayhap I should recall to you the
trouble two other creatures I know have caused over the years.”

Gimli chortled as the Halflings turned a nice shade of scarlet and alluded
no more to the mischief any two beings could perpetrate.  Nevertheless, he
and they did their utmost to avoid being saddled with the daunting chore
of keeping Elladan’s sons out of trouble.  And Legolas did his utmost to
ensure that they did come in for their share of watching over the brethren.

*******
One particular sunny day, Elrohir thankfully retreated to the study to go
over the backlog of reports, bills and correspondence.  Ordinarily, the Elf-
knight loathed the tedious trial of paperwork but today he was almost
happy to take care of it if only because it was a welcome excuse to get out
of watching over his nephews.  Instead, he had foisted the thankless task
on Legolas.  The blond archer had not been amused and his eyes had
promised dire retribution before the day was done.

The Elvenlord perched on the edge of the ornately carved desk that had
been Elrond’s.  Never fond of the all too stately high-backed chair behind
the table, he preferred to casually sit on the desk itself and go through 
the
numerous documents upon it.  He was just scowling over the atrocious
scrawl of a merchant from Bree when he heard shrieks of laughter
emanating from the garden.  Sighing, he rose, letter still in hand, and
sauntered to the window.

He reached it in time to espy two slight forms darting past, giggling like
mad.  He watched interestedly as they vanished into the grove of trees
beyond the garden.  He waited expectantly for their pursuer to appear.

To his surprise, it was not the Elven prince who came racing after Elros
and Elendir but two pucker-faced hobbits, both shouting imprecations not
fit for children’s ears and threatening bloody murder.  On their heels was
Gimli, huffing and puffing, yelling at them to remember that it was a
crime to strangle Elflings and would they all please slow down?!

Elrohir bemusedly watched them disappear as well into the grove.  Their
appearance begged two questions.  Where was Legolas and how did he
persuade the three to take his place?

The door to the study opened.  Elrohir turned to see the fair-haired archer
close the door behind him.  He regarded him suspiciously as he
approached.  Legolas seemed a mite too nonchalant.

“What are you doing here?” he mildly inquired.  “You were in charge of
the twins.”

Legolas snorted.  “If you think I am going to spend the day keeping our
nephews from breaking their precious necks, you are sadly mistaken!” he
informed the warrior.

Elrohir had to chuckle.  “And just how did you convince Gimli, Merry and
Pippin to take over from you?”

“I did not,” Legolas smirked.  “They were quaffing that foul beer of theirs
on the terrace.  I merely directed the twins’ attention toward them.”

“Indeed.”  Elrohir frowned.  There was more to this tale than Legolas was
letting on as yet.  “Would you care to enlighten me as to why the hobbits
seem bent on ending our nephews’ lives?”

Legolas snickered.  “I believe it has to do with the amazing effects a cup
of vinegar can have on a pitcher of beer.”

“Elbereth!  Vinegar?”  A gust of laughter escaped the Elf-knight.  “I
wonder.  Were Elladan and I as bad as that?”

“Worse, if Erestor’s stories about you did your dubious achievements
justice.”

Elrohir laughed again.  “Poor Erestor,” he said.  “I cannot count the
number of times he threatened to sail for Valinor while we were growing
up.  Not that it got any better when we did.  And then you showed up as
well.”

Legolas grinned.  “We were holy terrors, weren’t we?” he chuckled.

Elrohir shook his head.  As he did, he recalled the letter in his hand.  
With
a sigh, he walked back to the paper-laden desk.

“Surely you aren’t going to spend the whole day doing that,” Legolas
protested.

“I have no choice,” Elrohir replied.  “With Elladan away, all the
paperwork falls to me.”  He picked up a sheaf of bills.  “Would you have
the Last Homely House invaded by a horde of unpaid merchants?” he
pointed out.  “Adar”—Father—“would never have countenanced it.”

He perched once more on the table edge, trying not to take notice of
Legolas’ disapproving stare.  He began to scan a new document.
Frowning, he turned and sifted through the other scrolls and pages,
searching for something.  Finally, he rose to his feet, recalling that the
item he wanted was in the sole drawer of the desk.

Instead of taking the time to walk around the desk, he stretched over it,
resting his stomach on its shiny surface.  He pulled out the drawer and
searched its contents until, finally, with a grin of satisfaction, he found 
the
sheet of parchment he’d been looking for.  So intent was he on his chore
that he failed to hear the sharp intake of breath behind him.

He closed the drawer and began to push himself up from the tabletop.  To
his surprise, he felt the full weight of Legolas’ body bearing down on his
back, pinning him to the desk.

“Legolas, what are you doing?” he exclaimed.

He gasped as he felt the archer’s hands snake around his waist and tug at
the lacing of his breeches.  He tried to get up but Legolas would not
budge.  Soft yet demanding lips caressed the side of his neck even as
skillful hands slipped into his breeches and stroked him steadily.  Elrohir
struggled to clear his suddenly lust-fogged senses.

He was in the middle of another protest when he felt his trousers hauled
down and his shirt lifted to bare his backside.  The archer pressed hard
against him.

Panic hit him then.  “You cannot—!” he gasped.

He yelped as the prince proved he very well could, spearing him deeply
with his already impossibly turgid length.  Elrohir could do nothing but
take the brunt of his mate’s sensual assault.  Shocked at having been taken
unawares, dazed by the spiralling pleasure he felt with each thrust into his
body, he found himself unable to think clearly.  Until his eyes fell upon
the door.  He did think of something then with horror.

“Legolas, stop!” he implored.  “Someone might walk in on us!”

“Since when did you care about that?” was the prince’s arch rejoinder.
Elrohir could *hear* the wicked grin in his voice.  He moaned as Legolas
refused to relent.

“I care not about full-grown Elves seeing us thus,” he managed to sputter.
He groaned at a particularly hard thrust.  It was becoming increasingly
difficult to think coherently.  “But Elros and Elendir may come in here,”
he panted.  “Legolas, we cannot let them see this!  They are too young!”

The prince chuckled.  “So, you do have limits after all.”

To Elrohir’s relief, Legolas stopped thrusting into him and slowly
withdrew.  Assuming his words had penetrated the archer’s passion-
blurred mind, he began to push himself up.

Thus he was shocked anew when he was suddenly turned around and
hoisted bodily onto the tabletop.  Before he could say a word, his shirt was
virtually ripped open and the prince resumed his attack.  His mouth, throat
and chest were swiftly invaded with such vigor that it took both his breath
and voice away.  Then with startling speed, Legolas whipped off his
breeches and shoes in one fell swoop and pulled his long legs up and about
his waist.

Elrohir cried out hoarsely as he was filled once more.  With almost
luxurious deliberateness, Legolas buried himself to the hilt in his flesh.
He stared up at the prince in uncharacteristic shock and amazement.
Legolas’ smile was positively feral, his eyes brimming with lascivious
fervor.

“I want to see your face when you find your pleasure,” he purred rakishly.
And then he was pounding into his dazed spouse again.  Elrohir could only
grab at the archer’s arms on either side of him and hang on for dear life.

Legolas seldom got the better of him in their couplings.  For sheer length
and breadth of experience and audacity, Elrohir was almost without peer.
But taken by surprise and so peremptorily taken, he had to own himself
bested this time.  There was no getting around it.

Perversely, the very thought of Legolas so ravenous for him that he had
turned this rapacious, made him feel an excruciating stab of pure pleasure.
He gazed woozily at the fell beauty of the countenance above him, thought
the Elven prince had never looked so exquisite as he did right now –
shining gold locks cascading over his shoulders, sapphire eyes ablaze with
passion, finely wrought lips dipping ever so often to claim his in heated
harmony.

He groaned as Legolas took his now rampant need in hand and stroked it
as fiercely as he was driving into him.  Their pleasure flowed unhindered
between them, heightening every sensation to near unbearable.  Elrohir
came undone at last, his release unleashed with explosive force.  He
vaguely heard Legolas’ huskily uttered, “Beautiful.”  And then the prince
surrendered to his own completion, spending himself deep within his
spouse.

Elrohir lay quietly for a moment, panting slightly, with Legolas’ head
upon his chest.  He could not believe what had just happened.

“You are getting to be impulsive,” he managed to say.  “Not to mention
learning how to improvise.”

The prince raised his head and grinned at him.  He was flushed and
breathing heavily as well.

“I have a most excellent example to follow,” he cheekily replied.

Elrohir chuckled and shook his head resignedly.  “Ai, Legolas, you will be
the death of me yet.”

“I?” the prince glowered at him with mock outrage.  “And just who enjoys
bringing my heart rate to unholy levels whenever possible?” he demanded.
“Not to mention stealing my breath when I need it most!”

Elrohir laughed weakly.  “Very well, I plead guilty as charged,” he said.
“Now, have mercy on me and let me up, Calenlass.”

“After I catch my breath,” the archer retorted, laying his head upon the
twin’s chest once more.

Elrohir sighed.  He did not have much of a choice save to wait upon
Legolas’ leisure.  He was at a distinct disadvantage at the moment, still
supine, still pinned down, still impaled since the prince had not seen fit 
to
withdraw from him.

“Thank Elbereth the twins did not think to come here,” he murmured.
“That would have aged me by ten centuries at the very least.”

“You need not have worried,” Legolas said smugly.  “They would not
have come in.”

Elrohir raised a questioning eyebrow,  “And how could you be so certain
of that?”

The prince looked up at him and smirked.  “Because I bolted the door.”

He grinned triumphantly as blatant surprise registered on the Elf-knight’s
face.  The full implications of his answer hit the warrior with the force of 
a
furious gale.

“You planned to do this?” he gasped incredulously.

“I swore you would pay for inflicting our unruly nephews on me.”  The
prince leered at his suddenly speechless spouse.  “Besides, you presented
me with a most irresistible opportunity when you bent over this desk.  I
simply could not forego the chance to do some delectable delving to pass
the time.”

Elrohir groaned.  “All right, you have had your revenge.  Will you kindly
let me up now?”

“Nay.”

The blue eyes flashed salaciously.  With yet another jolt of shock, Elrohir
became aware of being fully filled once more as the prince came anew to a
proud and potent arousal.

“Valar!” he gasped as he was pushed down once more, his wrists held
down to the desk on either side of his head.

The archer’s grin widened.  “Don’t count on getting any more work done
this morning, Aduial,” he cooed.  “I have a most pressing need that
demands your undivided attention.”

Elrohir hissed protestingly at the prince’s renewed onslaught.  True, it was
thoroughly enjoyable.  His body heartily approved of the abuse it was
taking.  But he did dislike being bested and being bested twice in a row at
that!  Just as he was beginning to feel umbrage at such usage, Legolas
gazed down at him with gleaming eyes wide in wonder and love.

“Just looking at you is enough to undo me,” he whispered fervently.  “I
love you so much.  I can never get enough of you, Elrohir nîn.”—my
Elrohir.

Umbrage promptly forgotten, the Elf-knight happily conceded defeat to
his fair-haired prince and eagerly abetted in his own delightful torment.

It was fortunate that the door and walls of the study were thick and solid.
No one heard the unlikely sounds that echoed within the room.  And none
guessed at the uncustomary use Elrond’s elegant desk was put to that
bright summer morning.


=============================================

Chapter IV
The stag was fleet and strong and enduring.  Other predators had long
failed to best it as it outran or outwitted them.  But the hunters now on 
its
trail were as fleet and strong and enduring.  They could not be outrun or
outwitted.

The stag reared up on its hind legs as an arrow struck its flank, slowing it
down.  A second one speared its throat.  It collapsed, thrashing its hooves
wildly in its death throes.  And then it twitched feebly and went still.

The Elves emerged from the sparse brush to collect their prey.  This was
no chase for the mere pleasure of it.  With Edhil, it never was.  While they
could and did find excitement and a sense of accomplishment in the hunt,
such feelings were rarely the motive to seek and slay game.  Survival was
and always would be their paramount reason for taking life of any kind.

The larders of Imladris needed to be replenished and Elrohir and Legolas
had thus led a large hunting party out into the hills and forests 
surrounding
the vale.

The carcass was carried back to the clearing where other beasts they had
downed were cached.  A wild boar, hare and pheasant, another pair of
deer...these were loaded onto a makeshift litter, which would then be
hauled by two elven steeds.  The Elves prepared to head home.

A frightened cry rent the silence followed by a menacing growl.  Taking
up the rear, Legolas flung himself from his mount and raced in the
direction of the alarming sounds.  There was no mistaking the owner of
that cry.  Elros!

He burst into a tangled glade not far away and came upon a sight that
chilled his very blood.  A few yards from him were the twins.  Elendir had
tripped over a trailing vine, his ankle caught in its loops.  Elros was 
trying
to free him but his panicked movements only hindered him further.
Stalking them, its jaws grinding in anger, was a huge black bear.

An instant later, the beast bore down on the helpless twins.  Swift as
quicksilver, Legolas sprinted forward to come between them and the bear,
yanking his sword from its sheath in one fluid motion.  He threw himself
at the animal as it launched itself at the brethren, sword plunging savagely
into tough hide and solid gristle.

The bear roared in fury and pain and attempted to snare the Elf’s arm with
its fearsome teeth.  Legolas evaded the grasping jaws and managed to stab
his blade into the brute’s breast.  The bear screamed and lurched
backward, staggering as it did.  It shuddered convulsively then fell to the
grass with a thud.  A moment later, its eyes glazed over into eternal
oblivion.

Legolas stared at it, blue eyes darkening with emotion.  He barely
acknowledged Elrohir’s quick squeeze of his arm before the Elf-knight
dropped to his knees before the Elflings.  He paid little heed to the other
hunters either as they looked on in worry and curiosity.

Elrohir cut Elendir loose then looked from one twin to the other, twilight
eyes glaring.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“We wanted to watch the hunt,” Elros admitted.

“Why did you not say so?” Elrohir snapped.  “We would have taken you
with us had you told us of your desire.”

The twins glanced at each other guiltily.  “We did not think of it until you
had left,” Elendir confessed.

“And we thought it would be fun to see if we could track you,” Elros
added with just a touch of pride.  “And we did.”

“And nearly died of it,” Elrohir caustically pointed out.  “You had best
keep in mind, pin nith, that being immortal is not the same as being
invulnerable.”  Having checked them for injuries and finding none, he
queried frowningly: “How did you get away from Gimli?”

This time both had the spunk to grin.  “‘Twas easy,” Elendir said smugly.
“Uncle Gimli thought we were in our rooms.”

“So we climbed out through our windows,” Elros finished with a smirk.

Their smiles promptly faded when Legolas suddenly spun around and
glowered at them with such rage as they had never seen him possess
before.

“And you are proud of yourselves!” he spat.  “You think yourselves clever
to have eluded your guardian.  But have you given even one thought to the
consequences of your folly?”

Both brothers stared at him in some fright.  Their woodland uncle was so
sweet tempered as a rule they could scarce believe his fury now.  They
looked to Elrohir for succor but he kept his silence, rose to his feet and
stepped back from them.  That alarmed them even more that the Elf-knight
should deny them his protection.

“We – we meant no harm, Uncle Las,” Elendir bleated out anxiously.

“And we are th-thankful for your rescue,” Elros added timorously.

“A rescue that cost an innocent animal its life,” Legolas charged heatedly.
When they stared at him in perplexity, he became even more irate.  “In all
my years, I have never slain a wild beast save for sustenance or to defend
myself.  This bear would not have attacked you if not for your reckless
disregard for caution!”

“What – what do you mean, Uncle?” Elros asked confusedly.

Legolas strode back to the carcass and, with his foot, rolled it over.  He
bent and pushed the matted fur aside.  The twins gasped as he exposed
swollen teats.  The bear was a mother and one that had recently borne
cubs.

Legolas straightened up and stared angrily at them.  “She came after you
because she thought you were a danger to her young,” he said in a hard
tone.  “Had you taken care to avoid her territory, she would not have
attacked you and I would not have had to kill her.”  His eyes turned
glacial.  “And now that she is dead, her cubs will surely perish unless we
can locate them.  And even if we do, there is no guarantee that we can
save them.  Wild beasts need their parents’ care as much as any other
creature under the sun.”

The twins wilted visibly, their faces turning pale.  The further tongue-
lashing they received from their fair-haired uncle for their ill-advised
escapade served to shrivel them to ashen silence.  When he was done with
them, he turned away and led a quick search for the cubs.  After a
moment, the brethren joined in the search, their young hearts aching at the
thought of these wild orphans now bereft of their mother’s care and
protection.  But their efforts were to no avail.

The bear had hidden her young well.  Her instinct to defend them would
now prove their doom.  Heartsick, the Elves mounted their horses and
headed home.

It was a nightmarish trek for the twins.  The hunters deferred to their
lords’ wishes and it was clear both were displeased enough with the
youngsters to maintain cool silence with them.  Legolas remained remote,
his Wood-elven respect for animal life making him seethe at such a
useless killing.  Elrohir did not speak with them either; even did he
disagree with Legolas over his handling of the matter, he would not and
never say so before their nephews.  Neither he nor Legolas would ever
undermine each other’s authority in any manner; disagreements were
always discussed behind closed doors.

Thus, by the time the hunting party arrived in Rivendell early the
following morn, the twins were reduced to near tears.  They stammered
out their apologies to an initially fuming but afterwards forgiving Gimli
before fleeing to their rooms to sob their hearts out.  They did not show
themselves for the rest of the day.

Only for the evening meal did they finally emerge from their
bedchambers, persuaded to come down to dinner by kind Lindir.  But they
were duly subdued, unable to look save fearfully at Legolas who himself
remained in a dark mood.  Elrohir kept a neutral mien, unwilling to show
sympathy for one side or the other before Lindir, Gimli or the hobbits.  He
left it to the Dwarf and Merry and Pippin to lend some levity to the meal.
Lindir, meanwhile, managed to coax both Elflings into partaking of the
dinner, helped somewhat by the surprising appearance of some of their
favorite viands and pastries.

Gimli glanced at Elrohir, wondering at the coincidence.  The faint gleam
in the warrior’s eyes told the tale and the Dwarf grinned at this subtle
show of loving regard.

After the less than convivial meal, the twins hastened back to their
quarters, eyes gleaming with more unshed tears, affected by their uncles’
unyielding demeanors.  Almost as soon as they vanished, Legolas rose as
well and, without a word, left the hall.  Elrohir stilled the impulse to
follow either nephews or spouse and took the time to explain what had
occurred to the anxious hobbits.  For once, neither Halfling could muster a
witty rejoinder.

Some thirty minutes later, Elrohir went in search of his spouse, their bond
leading him to the gardens.  He soon found Legolas standing beneath an
old oak, gazing up at the stars through its outspread branches.  His eyes
glittered with blue flame in the dark, a telltale salty streak marking his
cheek.  Elrohir came up to him and drew him into his arms.

Legolas leaned into his balming embrace at once and pressed his hot face
into his Elf-knight’s neck.  For a few minutes they remained thusly as
Elrohir waited out the archer’s grieving mood.

“I was too hard on them,” Legolas said at length, nuzzling his mate’s
throat in his need for comfort.

Elrohir shook his head.  “Not all lessons can be taught in kindness,
meleth”—love—he said.  “They needed to be chastened.”

“But their faces this evening... They looked so lost and afraid of me—”
He let out a shuddery breath.  “They could not even look at me.”  He
embedded himself further in Elrohir’s embrace.  “I do not desire that,
Aduial,” he whispered.  “I do not want them to fear me.”

“Yet to chastise them, we must sometimes inspire fear in them,” Elrohir
pointed out gently.  “Even Elladan and Nimeithel do so.”

“But I have never heard them deal with the twins so harshly as I did,”
Legolas sighed.  “I fear I went too far.”

Elrohir cupped his face and made him meet his gaze.  “If you were harsh,
‘tis because you love them and feared for them, Calenlass.  ‘Twas not only
their folly that roused your anger but also the sight of them in peril.”  
His
argent eyes gentled further.  “And if they took your anger so much to
heart, ‘tis because they love you and esteem you so highly that to plummet
in your regard is a painful blow to them.”  He wiped the last tear from the
archer’s elegant cheekbone with his thumb.  “You would not be the uncle
they adore or the Elf I so love if you did not act as you did for their 
sakes.”

He pressed a kiss to the prince’s lips.  It was chaste and sweet and heart-
stoppingly tender.  It soothed Legolas’ sore spirit immensely.  He swiftly
responded and for several minutes they gently plundered each other’s
mouths, Legolas comforted by his Elf-knight’s inimitable loving.  He let
himself be carried along into another realm where pure emotion and
sensation reigned; knew the night would end in the molten fusing of their
bodies and souls.  The prospect of such ardent oneness with each other
more than eased his troubled heart.

When they parted, Legolas smiled gratefully at his spouse, his spirit serene
again.  At the questioning look in Elrohir’s eyes, he said: “I would like to
take a walk before we retire.”

Elrohir nodded and let him go.  He watched the archer until he vanished
into the darkness beyond the gardens.  He then turned thoughtful eyes to
the house, perusing in particular the windows of one bedchamber.

Legolas returned from his stroll nearly an hour later.  Finding the
bedchamber he shared with Elrohir empty, he did as his mate had done
earlier and let their connection lead him until he came to Elendir’s room.
The door was slightly open and he heard Elrohir’s voice from within.  He
peered inside.

A long and comfortable couch directly faced the door.  Ensconced in its
middle was Elrohir, a twin on either side of him, Elendir nestling his head
against his uncle’s chest whilst Elros rested his upon the warrior’s
shoulder.  They were raptly listening to Elrohir’s tale, which seemed to be
about some captivating adventure from what Legolas could hear.  He
studied them musingly.

They looked so much alike that one who did not know them might mistake
them for brothers.  Indeed, in the flickering glow of candlelight, it was
difficult to discern their ages and even Elrohir’s less slender build was
obscured, with both twins huddled against him.

He looked at the trio a little wistfully, feeling somewhat left out yet
appreciative of the wondrously comely picture they presented.  He sighed
inwardly, thinking how out of place he looked amidst them, his fair hair
and sapphire gaze a striking contrast to their sable tresses and grey eyes.

He was on the verge of leaving when he suddenly heard his name
mentioned.  Paying more attention to what Elrohir was saying, he realized
with a start that the Elf-knight was recounting the Quest of the Ring to the
younglings.

He gazed at his spouse with avid longing, swallowing the sudden lump
that formed in his throat.  Elrohir was weaving a story of enthralling
potency, placing more than due emphasis on the woodland prince’s role in
the quest, evincing with every worshipful turn of phrase and admiring
allusion the archer’s heroism in a perilous journey he need not have
undertaken.  That his narrative had a perceptible effect on the twins was
apparent in their shining eyes, their awed oohs and aahs.

The archer swallowed again, moved by his spouse’s so stirring devotion to
him that he would extol his long ago wartime graces to their nephews to
blunt their evasive reaction in the wake of their dressing down at his
hands.  He gazed at Elrohir with blazing love and unabashed worship.  So
intense was his regard that Elrohir lifted his twilight eyes and met the
archer’s ocean-hued gaze.

Elrohir ceased to speak as he beheld his bereth.  Did Legolas realize how
beautiful he looked standing in the doorway?  A shining figure crowned
with gold and mithril, his immaculate tunic and light breeches and shoes
giving him an ethereal comeliness that surely matched the otherworldly
radiance of the Valar themselves.  Nay, his prince was ever unaware of his
incomparable allure, his breath-stealing perfection.  It was this innocence
of his bewitching beauty, this unaffected disregard for the effects his
appearance had on others that rendered him even more desirable to the
warrior.  The argent eyes glistened with a smiting combination of searing
affection and tender lust that made the prince catch his breath upon
marking it.

The brethren smiled in tandem at this silent appraisal by their darkling
uncle of their golden one.  And their smiles broadened at the answering
look of sheer, abiding adoration in the archer’s eyes as he returned the
warrior’s regard.  Their hearts swelled, as always greatly fortified by such
unrelenting love between two so dear to them.  In their uncles’ adamant
union they found as much security and contentment as they did in their
own parents’ solid marriage.

They leaped to their feet and ran to Legolas, flinging themselves into his
warm, welcoming arms.  No words were spoken; forgiveness was asked
and given in their fervid exchange of hugs.  And then they led the archer
to the couch that he might sit by his spouse.  Legolas’ heart lightened in
relief and belonging as Elendir tucked himself into his side while Elros
settled himself within Elrohir’s encircling arm.

“Uncle Las, tell us about what happened after Merry and Pippin were
taken by the orcs,” Elros urged.

“Uncle Rohir says you and Uncle Estel and Uncle Gimli gave chase all the
way to Rohan!” Elendir said elatedly.  “That was surely a splendid feat.”

“More than a feat, pin nith,” Elrohir softly amended.  “‘Tis the stuff of
legend.  Your uncle is renowned throughout the Reunited Kingdom for his
part in the quest.”  He smiled meaningfully at Legolas, eyes auguring even
more delights in the deeps of the night.

Skin simmering with Elrohir’s unspoken pledge, Legolas held Elendir
closer even as he snuggled fast against his mate.  “Yet renown is as
nothing beside the esteem of kith and kin,” he quietly declared.

But he took up the story nonetheless and they stayed thus until late, the
blessing of each other’s company as pleasurable as the wonders of the
unfolding tale.  And for the prince, the promise of unparalleled bliss from
a full night’s loving in the arms of his beloved Elf-knight.

*******************
Glossary:
bereth - spouse

=============================================

Chapter V
The Grey Havens, Lindon
Nimeithel looked up at the stars from the balcony outside the guest
chamber she shared with Elladan.  The elenath seemed much more
brilliant out here by the ocean.  And the air was bracing in its salty
freshness.  She no longer wondered about Legolas’ sea-longing.

It had awakened in her as well though not so strong as to overcome her
love for Middle-earth.  She did not wish to forsake these lands just yet and
certainly would not enjoin her husband to do so in the near future.  But
when the time came, she would not be so reluctant either.

Aman beckoned and, eventually, she would heed its call.

She smiled as two strong arms snaked around her and pulled her against
her spouse’s powerful frame.  She half-turned her face, pressing her cheek
against Elladan’s shoulder.

“Happy, melethril?”—lover—he murmured against her fragrant hair.

“Very,” she softly replied.  “Though I miss our sons.”

“As do I,” he admitted.  “But I do not regret this reprieve.”  He leaned
down and stole a kiss from her.  “I sorely missed having you to myself.”

Nimeithel looked back at him and beamed tenderly.  “We still have a few
days, Eledhiren”—my Elvenlord—she pointed out suggestively.

Blue grey eyes glittered darkly.  “And nights,” he said huskily.  “Come,
wife, let us make good use of them.  Though, I suggest you keep your
pretty hands to yourself for now,” he added rakishly.  “Grandfather and
Círdan could use at least one decent night’s sleep before we depart.”

Nimeithel laughed as he insistently pulled her back into their room.

********
The Last Homely House, Imladris
Elendir and Elros strove to behave themselves after so traumatic a
scolding.  For the longest while, there were no irate Elves complaining
about being doused, tripped or hoodwinked by the twins providing their
uncles with a welcome respite.  Nor were the healing chambers graced
with their presence for a time much to the healers’ collective relief.

Until they poured a harmless but long-lasting dye into the hobbits’ baths
that gave rise to the phrase “little green men.”

And personalized the ancient prank of a bucket of liquid atop a door by
substituting rich cream for insipid water, thereby leaving poor Ailios fit 
to
be churned.

And mixed a copious amount of salt into the batter for a cake Iorwen
served to a rather pompous Elf-messenger from Greenwood.

And had half the barracks of Imladris up in arms over their watered down,
honeyed up ale.

And locked the usually forbearing Lindir in the supplies pantry with the
arrogant advisor, Merenwë, whom the steward utterly detested, which
almost resulted in another case of kinslaying had Legolas not heard their
scuffling within the confined space.

And dared to braid and beribbon Gimli’s beard while he dozed on the
lounging chair in the garden porch.

“It did not last, did it,” Elrohir wryly remarked to his mate.

“It was too much to hope for,” Legolas agreed.

From the wide window of the study, they watched with equal parts
amusement and resignation the spectacle of their nephews scrambling up a
tree in the garden like a pair of cats with a snarling cur snapping at their
tails.  Down below, an axe-bearing Dwarf, strips of bright colored silk 
still
entangled in his not quite unraveled beard, sat to vengefully wait them out.
What he planned to do once they clambered down, neither Elf-uncle knew.
But it didn’t bode well for the youngsters’ tender rumps if Gimli’s
constant flexing of his right hand was any indication of what he had in
mind for them.

Legolas sighed.  A Dwarf with a festively garnished beard was no lovely
sight; he could not blame Gimli for wanting to give the twins a hearty
spanking.  Well, Elladan and Nimeithel would soon be home.  Their
arrival would not by any means bring their sons’ antics to a halt but, at
least, he and Elrohir would not have to take the brunt of their victims’
charges any longer.

Not to mention bear with the constant interruptions that had so plagued
their private time together.  Much heartened by that prospect, he reached
down and squeezed the Elf-knight’s firm backside, prompting his spouse
to yelp in acute startlement.

********
“They are here!” Elendir cried out.  He raced out followed by his brother
as the graceful steeds cantered into the courtyard of the Last Homely
House.

A moment later the brethren were nestled in the loving embraces of their
well-rested parents.  Celeborn, however, did not look as refreshed.  Elrohir
eyed his grandsire wonderingly as he hugged him in welcome.

“Are you well, my lord?” he inquired solicitously.

Celeborn snorted.  “As well as is possible under the circumstances.”  He
raised a jaundiced eyebrow at Elladan.  “Your brother is astonishingly
vocal in bed-play.  I warrant the noise would be enough to wake up all the
dead in Arda!  Thank Eru that Círdan agreed to transfer me to the other
side of his house.  Though ‘twas too late to prevent him from recalling my
own youthful folly and remarking on it without cease.”

While Elrohir stared at the Elvenlord in puzzlement, Elladan flushed a
deep scarlet.  But Nimeithel giggled merrily much to her law-brother and
sons’ surprise.  Legolas grinned and upon bestowing a welcoming kiss on
her cheek, said: “I take it you learned your lesson well, muinthel?”—
sister?

His sister smiled mischievously.  “Too well it would seem, judging from
Círdan’s relief when we left,” she laughed.  “Thank you, tôr iaur.”— older
brother.

As they walked into the house, Elrohir looked questioningly at the prince.
“What did she thank you for?” he murmured.

Legolas chuckled.  “Later, meleth.”—love.  “‘Tis not a matter fit for
Elflings’ ears,” he said, indicating their nephews.  “As well as innocent
hobbits,” he added as Merry and Pippin greeted the newly arrived Elves.

Hardly had Elladan and Nimeithel settled down when they were besieged
by a host of complainants starting with one gruff Dwarf and two indignant
and startlingly verdant Halflings.  Iorwen, Ailios and Merenwë soon
weighed in with their grievances and Lindir had to bite his lip to keep
from airing his so precipitately.

“And that is just the household,” Elrohir informed his brother.  “I believe
the warriors have a thing or two to say about the gwenyn”— twins—“as
well.”

Elladan rolled his eyes.  “You and Legolas were supposed to keep watch
over them,” he reminded the other.

Elrohir snorted.  “When Legolas and I grow eyes on the back of our heads,
come back then and reprove us for negligence.”  At his brother’s pained
grimace, he pointed out, “At least you found some rest this summer.  I
cannot say the same for the rest of us!”

They paused in their conversation when the twins suddenly ran up to
Elladan and hugged him around the waist anxiously.  The older pair stared
down at the younger in perplexity then looked up at the others.

Legolas was striving mightily not to laugh while Nimeithel looked torn
between sympathy and satisfaction.  Celeborn, however, had trained upon
his great-grandsons a most fearsome stare.

“Sire?” Elladan looked at him curiously.

“I believe I would like to spend some time with your younglings,
gwaniuar”—older twin—Celeborn said.  “This autumn and winter should
do nicely.”

Elladan blinked.  “Exactly what do you mean, Grandfather?” he said.

Celeborn shrugged.  “I have just realized that I have not spent much time
with the pin nith.  I would like to rectify this oversight and take them
under my wing for two seasons.  And off your hands.”

The brethren stared at him in amazement.  Why would anyone want to
take charge of Elladan’s twin gales?

“You are brave, sire,” Elrohir commented.

“Nay, I am only being practical,” Celeborn rejoined.  “I would rather have
your brother well-rested in Imladris than ever ask him to join me again in
Mithlond or anywhere else.  Particularly if we must live in the same
house!  I refuse to endure any more comments as I had to take from
Círdan for two whole months.”  When Elrohir opened his mouth to ask
him for more clarification, he quickly preempted his younger grandson.
“Ai, gwanneth”—younger twin—“ask your Legolas for my reasons.  He
obviously knows enough to enlighten you.  Well, Elladan, will you accept
my offer or not?”

Elladan gaped at him then looked down at his quavering sons.  He could
understand their nervousness.  Celeborn was a loving Elf but could be
stern when he needed to be.  And when he was, he was positively
intimidating.  To young Elves who had not had the opportunity to keep
frequent company with him, that translated into terrifying.

He glanced at Elrohir.  Noted the heated look he exchanged with Legolas.
He caught his twin’s eye and winked at him.  Elrond’s sons smiled at each
other.

Elladan’s sons did not.  “*Adar!!!*”

*********
Silver light peeked through the veiled windows as Ithil slowly made her
ascent into the late evening sky.  But to Legolas, her soft glow was no
match for the luminosity of his moonlit knight.  He let out a shuddery
breath as Elrohir delved deeply into him, every thrust of his hot, proud
length driving him ever closer to utmost rapture.

In the throes of passion, Elrohir was ever more beautiful to behold.  That
only he had the privilege and the right to see the warrior thusly was a gift
the woodland prince never took for granted.  He gazed as if entranced at
his mate as the other moved with exquisite mastery above him, owning
him as no other had or ever would.  Silvery eyes limned in lust, sinuous
lips plundering fair flesh, creamy skin glistening with the faintest sheen 
of
moisture, he repeatedly speared his golden spouse to the silken core of his
being.

He caught Legolas’ wrists, guided them above his head and pinned them
there with one powerful hand.  With the other, he reached between them
and began to stroke the turgid column that prodded his tight belly.  He had
earlier ravaged the luscious flesh, supped of the opulent cream of his
mate’s resulting pleasure, then caressed him to renewed arousal.  Now he
fondled his writhing prince, teased the roseate buds on his chest, pillaged
his searching mouth.  Yet he denied him the freedom to move as he
pleased, the maddening constrainment heightening the archer’s bliss.

Legolas tried to hold back a moan; failed as ardent lips enclosed an aching
nipple and drew upon it until he cried out.  He tried to free his hands but
Elrohir held them fast.  And all the while, he was steadily stroked and
headily breached until he was raggedly sobbing in excruciating delight.
He attempted to speak but found he could no longer give coherent voice to
his longing.

/Finish it, Aduial!  I beg of you!/

Elrohir’s eyes gleamed ever darker at this sign of his beloved’s imminent
undoing.  Their mutual pleasure mingled and flowed and washed over
them with storm-force.  It was too much for the archer.

Shaking helplessly, Legolas keened as completion overtook him, tears
streaming down his cheeks at the indescribable rapture of his release.  His
wrists were abruptly freed and he desperately clung to Elrohir as the
warrior buried himself to the hilt and spent himself explosively within his
golden spouse.  One word alone burst from Elrohir’s lips.  One lone name.

He shuddered and nearly collapsed onto his mate.  Still trembling, Legolas
held him fast, refusing to let him sever the connection between them either
of body or spirit.  He cupped his Elf-knight’s face and kissed him
fervently, ever hungry for his love, for his loving.  Elrohir fed his 
hunger,
giving of himself, of his heart and spirit, to sate his prince’s still 
scarcely
abated need.  An always welcome need.

He was about to utter an endearment when something crashed against their
door.  No, make that two things.  Elflings on the cusp of adolescence to be
precise.

Legolas stared in consternation at the door, expecting it to burst wide open
and reveal them as bare as the day they were born and in this most
indecent of poses.  But though the insistent pounding on the other side
continued, the door did not yield.

“I bolted it,” Elrohir whispered with a grin.

“I should have remembered that,” Legolas softly said with a smile.

“Elros!  Elendir!  To bed, both of you!”

A doleful groan was followed by a dolorous reply.  “Aye, Grandfather.”

The Elven prince and the Elf-knight listened with amusement as two pairs
of feet shuffled away from the door.  They burst out laughing at the
thought of their incorrigible nephews so summarily tamed by their silver-
crowned forefather.

“How long will this last?” Legolas purred, nibbling at Elrohir’s throat.

Elrohir groaned at the tantalizing nips.  “Until they realize that
Grandfather is a tender-heart,” he chuckled breathily.  “The moment they
shed tears, he will be revealed and our peace will be at an end.”

“Mayhap they won’t find out until spring,” Legolas murmured, pressing
upwards to slide his sleek shaft against his bereth’s swiftly reawakening
length.

“Mayhap.”  Elrohir’s argent gaze evolved into molten mithril.  “So eager
anon, Calenlass?”

“What do you think?” the archer crooned.  And he drew the warrior once
more into his body’s deep embrace.

****************
Glossary:
elenath - starry host
Ithil - the moon

The End