Title: An Affliction of the Heart, 10/?    
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Glorfindel/Thranduil
Rating:	 NC-17 for slashy goodness - eventually
Beta: Minuial Nuwing – you’re the best, darling!
Archive: OEAM, Library of Moria, Melethryn.  All others please ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between half-elven twins and a 
prince, and between a warrior and a king.  Allusions to violence. Brotherly 
incest. Rampant angst.
 
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: The twins come to Greenwood with Glorfindel to expand their 
education and everyone learns more than was intended.  Yet another 
exploration of the dangers and delights of love – I’m nothing if not a hopeless 
romantic.  Canon disclaimer is in place, as always.  The Donne poem quoted at 
the start is one of the Holy Sonnets, however, I think that in lieu of God, Love 
would stand quite well.
 
Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Summary:  The twins demonstrate their bravery, and Glorfindel and Thranduil 
come to the rescue.

“Close your eyes, brother!” Elladan shouted, remembering his lessons from 
Erestor on the nature of dragons.

Elrohir blindly felt around on the ground in front of him and found Legolas’ 
limp form.  “Wake, my prince!” he called in fear.

The dragon skulked toward where Elrohir knelt over the unconscious prince.  
Sensing Elladan’s approach it wheeled and shot a burst of white-hot fire in the 
elder twin’s direction.  Elladan leapt behind a large rock and covered his head, 
scarcely avoiding being burnt alive.

“My prince,” the beast laughed.  “Prince of the Woodland Realm?  I have 
found a prize.”

One phrase echoed in Elrohir’s mind, it was Elladan’s voice saying, “Close 
your mind.”  He obeyed his brother’s command, shutting off his thoughts to 
both Elladan and the dragon, and with his eyes squeezed shut, he turned, 
holding his broadsword aloft.  “You must slay me to claim this prize, devil.”

“’Tis of little consequence, and little effort,” the dragon purred.  “Though I 
would much rather keep you and your brother alive; my pet will need company 
to share in his misery.”

“I need but delay you long enough for the king to arrive and he brings with him 
a fearsome warrior.”

The dragon laughed aloud.  “There are none strong enough to best me, whelp!”

Thundering hooves and the war cry of elves split the sky and the dragon turned 
its head toward the clamor.  The distraction would prove to be fatal as Elrohir, 
sensing where the dragon was, drove his heavy blade through the beast’s foot, 
pinning it to the ground.

Elladan circled around the wall of flame, and as the beast howled and lifted its 
head, gathering breath to torch both Elrohir and Legolas, he threw his broad 
sword, striking the demon in the back.  Another blood-curdling howl split the 
air and Elladan ran forward, grasping one of Legolas’ arms as Elrohir caught 
the other.  They were not fast enough however, and the dragon sent another 
burst of flame forth, cutting off their means of escape.  They were surrounded 
by fire, facing an enraged dragon, and they could not open their eyes to see 
what was happening.

“’Tis as good a day to die as any other,” Elladan said, trying to mask the fear in 
his voice.

“I know something of death, and this is not your day to die.”

The voice was Glorfindel’s.  Elrohir felt his heart race with excitement, but the 
ordeal was far from over.

The dragon turned its head skyward.  On top of the low cliff above them, two 
elves were perched and two score more had it surrounded from the treetops.  
One of the elves upon the cliff had a fearsome look of rage in his eyes and his 
gaze was focused on the three elves within the circle; he held a large spear 
aloft, poised to strike.  The other seemed to glow, his broadsword reflecting the 
flames and his eyes blazing of their own accord; the elf looked directly into the 
dragon’s eyes without fear, and to the beast’s dismay, it could not ensnare him.  

“You have my son,” the one with the spear said, “and I am not leaving without 
him.”

“Then we will all die here, Elven King,” the dragon growled.

“Death is of little consequence to me,” Glorfindel said.  “I have died before.”  
With that, he leapt from the rock with his blade aloft.

Thranduil hurled his massive spear, striking the dragon in the side as 
Glorfindel landed upon its back.

The twins turned and shielded Legolas as a terrible sound erupted from the 
dragon.  They found themselves caught up into the air, carried aloft and over 
the flames by three eagles, the great birds had always shadowed Glorfindel 
since his return to Middle-earth.  They soared above the trees and watched as 
the sky darkened and a storm sent by Manwë gathered, and then they heard a 
horrible, guttural howl and the forest below them erupted into flames.

“Glorfindel!” Elladan cried, but the eagles carried them away toward the caves, 
and safety.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil’s stunned palace guard watched in awe as two massive birds gently 
set Elladan and Elrohir down on their feet, and the third carefully laid Legolas’ 
limp form upon the ground.  Thunder roared and rain poured from the heavens 
as the guards rushed forward to help carry the prince to the healer’s quarters.

The twins followed, torn between staying with Legolas and rushing back to 
where they had last seen Glorfindel.  “Thranduil is with him,” Elrohir said, 
concern clearly visible upon his face.

“I know,” Elladan answered.  “But how could anyone survive that?”

“If anyone can, it is Glorfindel,” Elrohir replied.

The healer immerged from the prince’s quarters with a worried expression 
upon his face.  Elrohir clasped his twin’s hand and they rose to their feet.

“He is unconscious and has some cuts and abrasions.  The sooner he wakes, the 
better I will feel about his condition,” the healer said in a worried tone.

“May we see him?” Elladan asked.  The question was just a formality, for he 
was already walking toward Legolas’ door.

The healer nodded then made his way toward his quarters.

They entered the prince’s room to find him in the bed.  He had been bathed and 
his torn garments replaced with a clean sleeping gown.  His hair was still a 
little damp, but it was combed and clean, though his skin was marred with 
angry, red scratches and peppered with purple bruises.  He rested peacefully, 
his hands folded on his stomach, on top of the covers.  Were it not for the slow 
rise and fall of his chest they would have thought him dead.

Elrohir kicked off his boots and mounted the bed, lying down carefully next to 
the prince.  Elladan remained standing, still torn between staying with his 
brother and the prince and going to seek Glorfindel.  They heard a commotion 
in the corridor and turned to watch as the king burst into the room.

Thranduil looked as though he had just survived the battle of his life.  He was 
black and blue, and covered with soot and abrasions.  To the relief of the twins, 
Glorfindel came in close behind him, also filthy and looking a little worse for 
wear, but otherwise among the living still.  The twins hurried toward the Elda, 
both of them embracing him tightly in relief.

“How is the prince?” Glorfindel asked worriedly, as he watched his beloved sit 
on the edge of Legolas’ bed and take his son’s hand in his own.

“The healers say he is unconscious, but the cuts and bruises are not serious.  
The question now is how long it will be before he wakes, and what condition 
he will wake in,” Elladan answered softly.

“I am most proud of you for what you did,” Glorfindel said softly.  “You risked 
your lives to save Legolas as good warriors and good friends do.  Your father 
will be proud also, once he recovers from being angry with all three of us for 
the risk.”  

The Elda furrowed his brow as he looked at the sleeping prince.  To do battle 
with a dragon was no slight matter, and he worried for the state of Legolas’ 
mind.  No one knew what had transpired before the twins arrived, nor how long 
the prince had been alone with the dragon.

“Is it…” Elrohir’s voice trailed off as he swallowed.

“Aye.  The beast is done in.  It will menace the skies of the Great Wood no 
more.”  He slipped out of the twins’ embrace and moved toward his lover.  
Gently placing a hand upon Thranduil’s shoulder, he leaned forward and said 
softly, “Come, my lord.  He rests safely now.  You have time to cleanse 
yourself of the grime of battle and return to your vigil.”

Thranduil nodded slowly, gently laying his son’s hand back upon the bed.  “He 
must be all right, Glorfindel; I cannot survive losing him.”

Glorfindel placed his arm around his lover’s shoulders as he guided Thranduil 
from the prince’s chamber.  “He will be, my lord.  I promise you that.”

*    *    *    *

Thranduil sat on the stone ledge of the baths, allowing Glorfindel to bathe him 
as he gazed blankly at the water.  “Eru only knows what it did to him before we 
arrived.  Did you see his clothes, how they were torn?”

Glorfindel swallowed.  It was a grim conversation they were having; elves did 
not often survive being violated, and he remembered well the work of dragons 
on Maeglin’s poisoned mind.  He gathered his wits and tried to answer the king 
as delicately as possible.  “His breeches were mostly intact, and . . . I saw no 
blood.”

Thranduil shook his head with his eyes closed tight.  “Killing that thing over 
and over, every day for eternity would not be enough to slake my rage if I find 
that it…”

“Shush, my love,” Glorfindel murmured as he gathered Thranduil in his arms.  
“Do not dwell upon the unknown.  I do not believe that it succeeded; I think 
Elladan and Elrohir arrived in time.”

“I pray that you are right, Glorfindel.  For if you are not, I do not know what 
will become of my son, or of me.”

“I am, my love, I am,” Glorfindel murmured as Thranduil wrapped his arms 
around him and held on to him tightly.

*    *    *    *

Elrohir was sleeping beside Legolas as Elladan sat at the foot of the bed and 
watched.  He had persuaded his twin to change into a sleeping gown and robe 
and prepare for bed first.  He absently ran a comb through his hair as he 
watched the two that he loved most in their slumber.  

He was not surprised by his feelings for Elrohir, for he had been in love with 
his twin for as long as he could remember, but Legolas was a different matter 
altogether.  While he would not say that he was in love with the prince, he 
definitely felt a strong connection with him and cared for him very deeply.  
Ironically, he felt protective of his tutor, but then he supposed that should not 
surprise him, for to be protective was in his nature.  He admired Legolas’ 
prowess as a warrior, his intellect, and his sense of humor.  The prince was 
exceedingly easy to be around, warm, friendly, and set one at ease right away.  
He felt that he could tell Legolas anything and the prince would never betray 
his confidence.  Perhaps it was time he had someone besides Elrohir to 
unburden himself to, especially when the burden he carried pertained to his 
twin.

He rose slowly and set the comb on the bedside table, then took his place 
beside his friend.  Closing his eyes, he slowly drifted into reverie.


To be continued…