Title: An Affliction of the Heart, 4/?
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.  Illusions 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: Thranduil gets what he wants, Glorfindel grows closer.

Soft, maddening caresses, warm wet lips thoroughly exploring the curve of his ear, the king’s 
taut body moving against his own . . . ‘would it be so bad?’ he wondered.  ‘Would it be so bad to 
be in love with a king?’

“How long has it been?” Thranduil murmured into Glorfindel’s ear.

“Long enough to make me accept your terms, but not so long that I do not remember what to 
do.”

“Who was your last lover?”

“Elemmakil,” Glorfindel responded.  

“No lover in this life then.  Were you in love?” Thranduil purred as he made thorough perusal of 
the Elda’s body with his hands.

“No.  We were comrades, brothers in arms, lovers, but we were not in love.”

“It must have been painful to lose him,” Thranduil murmured, lowering himself to cover the 
warrior’s body with his own.

“It was painful to lose all of them,” Glorfindel responded, his eyes closed as the memory of the 
fall of his beloved city circled the edges of his memory.

“Well, it is done and you are here now.  This is a new life and a new time, Glorfindel.  I shall 
give you new memories.”  He left a trail of warm, wet kisses down Glorfindel’s spine, watching 
the way the Elda’s body wavered between acquiescence and resistance.  “I promise you, you will 
not regret this decision.  Such a body, such a fiery spirit to have been alone and neglected for so 
long.  Let us rekindle that fire, shall we?”

Glorfindel let out a long, aching moan as Thranduil’s talented mouth kissed, nibbled, and 
suckled his buttocks.  His arousal stood hard against his stomach, trapped between his weight 
and the bed.  He wanted to run, and he knew he could; he had but to say the word and Thranduil 
would stop – they knew one another too well, there was too much between them for the king to 
treat him with anything other than respect when it came to the matter of choice.  ‘Don’t lose 
yourself, Glorfindel,’ he thought.  ‘Don’t lose yourself to one who cannot love you.’  Yet, 
Amroth’s words still hovered in his mind – that Thranduil needed him, and that Thranduil 
wanted to love him, the king just needed to learn how.

“You need not handle me as if I were an elleth or some youthful ellon that you intend to 
deflower,” he said, affecting his best warrior tone.  “This body may be untouched, but I assure 
you, I am no innocent when it comes to the ways of bed play.”

“Oh, I doubt that not, my handsome beast.  By Elbereth, this is a body made for killing if ever 
there was one.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes, slowly lifting his hips and pulling his knees beneath him.  “I was 
returned for one purpose only, is it not natural that I be sent back equipped to serve that 
purpose?”

“Aye, you speak true.  ‘Tis unfortunate that this was not the body you were born with, things 
might have been different if that were so.”

Glorfindel cast a defiant look over his shoulder at the king.  “Mistake it not, nothing can stop that 
beast; no elf nor any man can stop a Balrog without paying with his life.”

Thranduil smiled as he saw the glittering defiance in the Elda’s eyes.  “If ever there were one 
who could, it would be you, my magnificent warrior.”

“So, is this the tale you will tell when we are through?  Will you say that you bedded Glorfindel, 
Balrog Slayer of Gondolin?”

Thranduil leaned close, sliding an oiled finger between the warrior’s muscular buttocks.  “I will 
say nothing, my warrior.  What happens between us is no cause for concern for anyone else.”  He 
leaned down and pressed a kiss between the Elda’s shoulder blades.  “Will you talk of bedding a 
king?”  He wrapped Glorfindel’s long, golden hair around his fist.

“Nay, my lord.  I will not do you such a disservice.”

“Good,” Thranduil purred before pulling Glorfindel’s head back and marking his neck with his 
mouth.  “Tell me, how do you like it?  Rough like warriors’ ways or something more . . . 
gentle?”

“I shall accept whatever you give, my lord.”

“Well then, we shall do what I like and proceed slowly.  I intend to savor this as long as we can 
both physically bear.”

Thranduil moved against him sensually, covering his upper body with wet, sensual kisses and 
marking his arms and shoulders with his teeth. The initial breeching was painful, as it always is 
when one is unaccustomed to such an act, but as Glorfindel’s body relaxed, the pleasure began to 
mount, and soon they were moving with one another as if they had been lovers all their lives.  

Thranduil murmured to him, it was a soft, deep sound, something between a purr and a feral 
growl.  Glorfindel lost himself in the sound of the Sinda’s deep voice and yielded his body to 
Thranduil’s possessive and commanding touch.  The king’s hands set fire to his skin wherever 
they touched him, and his mouth tormented him in delicious ways he had often imagined in his 
dreams.  Thranduil was the consummate lover, attentive, skillful, and hungry.  Glorfindel’s 
climax took him in a rush, and he groaned deeply as he spilled himself upon the bed.  His king 
rode him still, until finally he could hold out no longer. 

When it was through, they lay in silence - Glorfindel blinking, trying to stave off reverie, 
Thranduil caressing his warrior’s limbs with his ringed hands, gently kissing the fresh purple 
love marks that peppered his lover’s back.  Finally, Glorfindel broke the silence.

“No one has ever touched me like that before,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Then your past lovers did not understand what they had,” Thranduil replied.  “You are 
magnificent and should be touched as such.”  Thranduil craned his neck so that he could look 
into Glorfindel’s sleepy eyes.  “Come, let us soak in the bath before we sleep.  The healing 
properties of the waters here will stave off any discomfort that may come from our exertions.”

Glorfindel nodded, wincing slightly as Thranduil rose from him; he accepted the king’s hand and 
then followed his lover to the baths.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil dipped beneath the surface of the water, rising then smoothing his wet hair from 
around his face.  He looked thoughtfully at Glorfindel, who rested his head against the edge of 
the pool.  The warrior’s eyes were closed, yet he was no less remarkable in his beauty.  
Glorfindel was an astounding creature, an indefinable mixture of strength and gentleness, warlike 
ferocity and astute diplomacy – Thranduil thought that any leader worth his salt would give 
anything to have a champion like Glorfindel.  Elrond was lucky in far more ways than one.

Crossing the pool, he straddled the Elda’s lap and smiled as Glorfindel opened his eyes.  Tucking 
wet strands of hair behind Glorfindel’s ears, he asked, “What makes a knight serve a lord?”

The openness and vulnerability of the question made Glorfindel’s heart skip.  “Love, duty, and 
respect.”

“What makes a lord worthy of such devotion?”

Glorfindel smiled and took Thranduil’s face into his hands.  “A noble spirit, a brave heart, a wise 
mind, and a deep and abiding love for his people.”

“I wonder if such a lord exists, or if knights serve out of a sense of duty passed down from the 
elder days.”

“It exists, Thranduil.  It exists in you.  Few kings love their people and their lands as much as 
you do.  You are a brave warrior-king and you have earned your soldiers’ respect with your own 
blood.  No one doubts that you are worthy of such devotion.”

“I wonder if I am wise.  My father was thought to be so, but look what happened to him.”

“Oropher was wise, and he was fierce.  It was one day, one battle among many he fought in life.  
That day, his fierce nature overwhelmed his wisdom and he paid for it with his life.  A wise king 
learns from what has passed before; you will not make the same mistake, Thranduil – this I 
know.”

Thranduil leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together.  “I have never said these things to 
anyone else.  It is a measure of my trust in you, Glorfindel.”

“I will not fail to live up to that trust, Thranduil.”

Thranduil smiled slightly.  “Elrond must indeed be a lord without compare to have earned a 
champion as remarkable as you.”

“He is my lord; but you are my lover,” Glorfindel murmured, then he slid his hand around the 
back of Thranduil’s head and drew the king into a kiss.

*    *    *    *

As they reached the king’s doorway, Glorfindel bowed his head and smiled slightly, then turned 
toward his assigned chambers.  He felt Thranduil’s hand upon his wrist and looked back to see 
the king motion toward his chambers.  Glorfindel followed, entering the room first as Thranduil 
latched the door behind them.

He felt the king’s hands on his shoulders, caressing his arms as they moved down and encircled 
his waist, untying the belt that held his robe closed.  The silken fabric caressed his skin as it slid 
off, then he turned to watch Thranduil disrobe as well.

“I am beginning to believe that you will see me in such a state that I cannot sit horse nor chair 
while I am here,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Thranduil chuckled.  “There are other positions that are just as useful, such as lying down, for 
instance.”  He playfully pushed his lover to the bed.  “Fear not, my brave warrior, I am not so 
obtuse as not to have noticed that your body is unaccustomed to being taken.  No more bed play 
this night, Glorfindel.  I only want you to share my bed in reverie.”

Glorfindel slid over and held the sheets up for his kingly lover. Thranduil turned to his side and 
pressed his back against Glorfindel’s chest.

“Hold me like you did that night so long ago,” Thranduil said quietly.

Glorfindel remembered it well; it was when he first realized he was in love.  He wrapped his 
arms around the king, cradling Thranduil’s head in one hand, and one arm and one leg wrapped 
around his body.

“Yes,” Thranduil murmured.  “Just like this.  It was just like this, only we were clothed.  It was 
as if you were a cloak I could pull tight around me to keep out the bitter wind.”

“You were shaking,” Glorfindel answered quietly.

“Was I?  I barely remember.  All that I can recall is how it felt to be held by you, how safe I felt, 
how I wanted to close my eyes and disappear into your arms.”

“Your father had just died; you were grieving his loss.”  Glorfindel closed his eyes and 
swallowed.  He wanted so badly to say the words, to tell Thranduil how he felt, but it was too 
soon.  “Sleep, my king,” he whispered instead.  “I shall hold you as you dream.”

To be continued…