Title: An Affliction of the Heart, 2/?  
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Glorfindel/Thranduil
Rating:	 NC-17 for slashy goodness
Beta: Minuial Nuwing – you’re the best, darling!
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, 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. 
 
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.
 
Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Summary: Glorfindel and the twins arrive in Greenwood; Thranduil grows tired of dancing.

Greenwood was the largest, if not the oldest, forest in Middle-earth.  Dense and mysterious, the 
Great Wood held many secrets and provided many hiding places for those brave enough to enter.  
Before the days of the Last Alliance, Oropher’s people had dwelt in the southern end of the 
wood, closer to their distant kindred in Lórien; after the war, as men and dwarves began to utilize 
the Old Forest Road more frequently, Thranduil withdrew north of the road, taking his people 
with him to an outcropping of hills near the northeastern border.  There they made a home 
underground, fashioned in memory of his childhood home of Menegroth.  It was not as opulent, 
nor as large, but it was strong and safe, and provided a comfortable haven for the elves who 
remained with Thranduil.  Two-thirds of Oropher’s army had been lost in the battle of the Last 
Alliance, and upon Thranduil’s return with the remnants of that army, many of those who had 
lost loved ones sailed to Valinor.  The elven population of Greenwood was far smaller than it had 
once been, and Thranduil was determined to protect those who remained.

Upon returning from the war, the newly crowned king took a bride, selected by his father’s 
advisers.  Numb with grief and the horrors that he had seen, he allowed the well-meaning 
counselors to direct his life.  It was not until his son was born that he seemed to awaken from the 
fog of grief that had surrounded him, and that was when he took charge of the kingdom, moving 
his people to the north despite the protest of his advisers.  The journey was dangerous: desperate, 
rogue bands of orcs and evil men, without rule after Sauron’s defeat, were roaming the eastern 
lands and some had come to the forest.  Thankfully, few were lost as Thranduil’s people 
journeyed north, but among the ones who were taken was the king’s wife.

Thranduil himself had been seriously wounded defending his son, who had become separated 
from the queen in the ensuing attack.  He stood helplessly, Legolas in his arms, as he gazed 
down at his wife’s dead body lying in the muck.  He could not save them both, but he had saved 
what was most precious to him – sometimes life presented one with cruel and hard choices.  In 
the aftermath of what he saw as another failure, for he had been powerless to save his father as 
well, Thranduil closed his heart to everyone except his young son – for he was all Legolas had 
now, as Legolas was his reason for living.

The prince was regarded as both extraordinarily beautiful and kind.  He was sensitive like his 
mother, yet had a stubborn, willful streak like his father.  Regardless, Legolas loved his people, 
and had a deep and abiding love for the forest that was his home, and he fought valiantly to 
protect both.  Legolas and Thranduil were close - the prince saw Thranduil as more than his 
father; he was also his lord, his mentor, and his friend.  

The sun was shining as Glorfindel, Elladan, and Elrohir rode through the tall grass of the Anduin 
Vale.  To the north of the Old Forest Road was a hidden path, visible to only the sharpest eye, 
and it was that path that Glorfindel sought.   They did not speak, for their eyes and ears were 
trained on the line of trees on each side of the river valley, alert for possible ambush.  Glorfindel 
also knew that he had to be sure that they were not followed, for neither orcs nor men must ever 
learn the location of the elf path.

They dismounted and allowed their horses to drink from the river and graze for a time before 
Glorfindel would turn toward the entrance to Thranduil’s realm.  He felt the watchful gaze of the 
Greenwood archers upon him, as did the twins; there was no cause for worry however, for 
Glorfindel was well known to them, even if the Sons of Elrond were not.  Once he was sure they 
were not being watched by anyone other than the border guard, he motioned to Elladan and 
Elrohir to follow.

Once admitted, a lone archer guided the travelers down the elf path to the Enchanted River.  A 
ferry took each elf and horse across one at a time, and then they were led to the Caves of 
Thranduil.  It was a two-day journey in total, one that was familiar to Glorfindel.  This was his 
third trip to the woodland king’s home; the first two had been as emissary at the behest of his 
lord.  Elrond wished to maintain, if not strengthen, the ties between Imladris and its most remote 
ally.

As they crossed the stone bridge and entered the gates, the twins looked about themselves in 
awe.  It was the furthest from home they had ever been in their fifty years of life.  After a brief 
reminder of the proper customs of Greenwood, they followed Glorfindel up the stairs and toward 
the throne room, where both the king and prince formally greeted the party.

Glorfindel approached the dais and knelt upon one knee, bowing his head and waiting for 
Thranduil to approach.  The twins knelt behind him, their auburn heads also bowed and their 
hands covering their hearts.

Thranduil rose slowly, carefully regarding the golden warrior who so readily supplicated himself 
before him.  Descending the few stairs to where the Elda knelt, he lightly touched the warrior’s 
shoulder.  

“Rise, friend,” he said in an evenly measured voice.

Glorfindel complied, rising to his feet and looking into Thranduil’s glittering sapphire eyes.  He 
could feel the king’s gaze caressing him as sure as if it were his hands, and both his heart and 
breath quickened ever so slightly to the imagined touch.  

“My lord, it is an honor to be before you again,” he said quietly.

Thranduil smiled briefly.  “I am glad to receive you again, Glorfindel o’ Imladris.  Each visit 
gives me cause to hope our friendship shall grow ever stronger still.”

Glorfindel bowed his head again.  “I am lucky to be counted amongst your friends, my lord.  
This is also my wish.”

“Tell me, who have you brought to our court?”

Glorfindel turned and beckoned for the twins to rise.  “I present Elladan and Elrohir, the Sons of 
Elrond.”

Thranduil stepped forward as Glorfindel yielded – it was a dance they did often.  “Twins, 
identical, in fact; such a thing is rare in Elvendom.  You look like your father,” he said quietly.

“’Tis an honor to be your guest, my lord,” they replied in unison.

Thranduil smiled.  “Not only do you look alike, you sound alike; your voices make a perfect 
chorus.”  He lifted his chin and his countenance resumed its mask of regality, which caused the 
twins to cast their eyes downward.  “Your father has charged me with furthering your training as 
warrior princes.  I assure you, the schooling you will receive here will be unlike any you have 
undergone thus far in your lives.  Greenwood is not Imladris, there is naught but the iron will of 
my people to protect this wood.”

‘There it is,’ Glorfindel thought.  He had wondered how long it would take Thranduil to display 
the arrogance for which he had become so well known.  He noticed the slight working of 
Elladan’s clenched jaw, and smiled inwardly as the elder twin masterfully concealed his 
annoyance at the jibe. 

“We look forward to all that your warriors have to teach us, my lord,” Elladan answered.

“And we are confident our stay will make us better soldiers, my lord,” Elrohir added.

Thranduil smiled knowingly.  ‘If they only knew,’ he thought to himself.  “I present my son, 
Legolas.  He is charged with the arrangement and oversight of your training.”  He turned to 
Glorfindel.  “I trust you are in agreement with this, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel nodded.  “Aye, my lord.  I have confidence in the prince’s abilities as a tutor.”

“Thank you, Lord Glorfindel,” Legolas said as he descended the steps from the dais to where the 
twins stood.  “Welcome to Greenwood, Sons of Elrond,” he said with a warm smile.

Both Elladan and Elrohir were greatly relieved that it was Legolas who would train them rather 
than the intimidating king.  Each struggled to conceal their surprise upon seeing Legolas’ 
obvious beauty; the Sindar were truly a magnificent race.

“It is our honor, my liege,” Elladan said.

“Yes, we look forward to learning from you,” Elrohir added, hoping his immediate attraction to 
Legolas was not obvious.

“Come, I shall show you to your quarters,” Legolas said, bowing his head to his father and 
Glorfindel before departing.  “You shall be housed in the royal wing, near my chambers.  The 
length of your stay deems it more convenient and practical.”

Glorfindel and Thranduil watched the trio disappear through the doorway leading to the private 
wing Legolas and Thranduil shared, then the king looked back at Glorfindel.  “Come, you and I 
have much to discuss; let us retire to my study.”

Glorfindel bowed his head in assent and followed the king through the same doorway that the 
twins and Legolas had entered.

*    *    *    *

“How long has it been since your last visit, Glorfindel?” Thranduil asked as he settled in the 
chair behind his massive desk.

“Six years, I believe,” Glorfindel replied as he chose a chair on the opposite side.

“I still remember the lesson you taught me last,” Thranduil said with a slight smile.  “As a matter 
of fact, it might have saved my life last winter.”

“Then I am most glad to have taught it, my lord.”

Thranduil sat back in the tall chair, his elbows resting on the arms and his hands folded, 
forefingers pointed beneath his chin.  “It seems that you and I are caught in a dance of sorts and 
while I enjoy dancing, this particular routine is growing tiresome.”

Glorfindel blinked at the abrupt change of direction that their conversation took.  “I beg your 
pardon, my lord?  I have I done something to cause offense?”

Thranduil rose from his chair and rounded the desk, placing his hands on the back of 
Glorfindel’s chair, on each side of the Elda’s golden head.  Leaning in close he murmured, “I 
want you.  I want you in my bed, I want to feel your skin beneath my hands, I want to feel your 
body yield to mine.  You know this, you want me as well, yet you keep masterfully avoiding my 
touch.  I will not chase you, nor will I beg.  I am an elf of limited patience and much pride, 
Glorfindel.  Why can we not both have what we want?  Why are we playing this game?”

True to his nature, Thranduil had spoken his mind without preamble.  Glorfindel was pressing 
back into the chair, trying to resist Thranduil’s powerful allure.  The king spoke true; he wanted 
all that Thranduil accused him of and more, and it was the more that worried him.  He could say 
that Thranduil was mistaken, but the king would know it was a lie.  He remembered Amroth’s 
words about Thranduil and wondered if his friend had been correct.  As Thranduil leaned closer, 
as the king’s warm, soft, honeyed breath fanned his lips, as the exotic, sensual aroma of cedar 
and spice filled his nostrils, he asked himself, ‘Will I live another life alone?’

Seizing the moment of vulnerability that he saw in Glorfindel’s eyes, Thranduil murmured, 
“Come, be my lover.”  Then he kissed the Elda softly and slowly.

The kiss burned him, turned his blood to liquid heat, caused his heart to race and his breath to 
catch in his chest.  All consuming, dangerous desire took hold, and it was too late to turn back.  
He was lost in a heated fog of lust and desire for this Sinda that had haunted his dreams since the 
end of the last age.

As Thranduil withdrew, the king kept his eyes closed, a smile curving his lips as he breathed in 
the barely perceptible scent of blossoming desire.  “Oh yes,” he murmured.  “Just as soft, just as 
delicious as I had imagined it would be.”  He opened his eyes and stood, gazing down at 
Glorfindel’s flushed face.  “I know you.  You do not blush like a maid who has just done 
something she should not have.  The blood in your cheeks is of a far more primal nature.”   
Thranduil returned to his seat behind the desk.  “If you choose to heed that ache in your loins, 
then come to my bedchamber two strikes of the bell, after the feast has ended.”  He smiled.  “I 
look forward to seeing your beautiful, powerful body naked against my sheets.”

Glorfindel gained his feet, feeling a mixture of anger toward Thranduil’s presumptive tone and a 
deep aching want in his core.  “Tell me, my lord.  Is this your usual fashion in greeting your 
visitors?”

Thranduil laughed heartily.  “Do not feign indigence with me, Elda.  I know more about the 
nature of sex than you, despite your advantage in years.  You want me, you have since you first 
saw me; you wanted me even as I lay with Amroth all those years ago.”  His tone and expression 
softened a bit.  “I remember well your kindness and the protective way you sheltered me after 
my father died, and you have been a good friend since.  Do not mistake my frankness for 
disrespect; indeed, to take you into my bed has long been something I have wanted and it would 
be an honor I would not take for granted.  I am merely being honest out of respect and 
admiration for you.  I would not lie and feign love to one whom I care for so well.”

“Very well, my lord.”  Glorfindel looked squarely at the king.  “May I say that you have finally 
met your match?  I am every bit as determined as you, and I do have the advantage when it 
comes to physical strength.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and smiled.  “’Tis true.  But it was my impression we were to 
become bedfellows, not wrestling opponents.”

Glorfindel paused in the doorway.  “Wrestling, fucking, there is oft little difference.”  He smiled 
and departed, making for his guest chamber as he heard Thranduil laugh in response.

~ To be continued