Title: An Affliction of the Heart, 6/?    
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

Elrohir was looking at the prince’s bed when he heard the latch slide home.  He 
glanced quickly at Elladan, whose attention had been diverted to their new 
mentor, and then Elrohir looked at Legolas.  The prince slid his robe from his 
shoulders and tossed it casually on a tall-backed chair.  Elrohir’s pulse 
quickened immediately as he took in Legolas’ nude body.  There was no doubt 
that what he had seen of Legolas thus far had been surpassing fair – hair the 
color of summer wheat, eyes the color of the midday sky, skin as fair and warm 
as alabaster – but this, this was beyond his dreams.  

Legolas was finely muscled and perfectly proportioned; his amber nipples 
stood slightly erect and the left one was pierced with a small golden ring.  
Body piercing was not the custom among the Noldor, so Elrohir had never seen 
such a thing before.  Legolas’ lips were curved into a smile as he approached, 
and Elrohir felt his heartbeat quicken.

“This first lesson is about touch and sight,” the prince said in a deep, smooth 
voice.

Elladan was already removing his robe, which made Legolas smile; the eldest 
was ever eager to dive in first.  “Turn back the covers, if you will, Elladan,” he 
said quietly, then approached the younger twin.  As he removed Elrohir’s robe, 
Legolas smiled at the slight shudder he saw run through the elf-knight’s frame.  
“You can learn much by watching and listening to your lover,” he continued.  
“By watching their body, by listening to their voice, you learn what pleases 
them.”

He instructed Elladan to mount the bed as he guided Elrohir backward toward 
it.  “Fear not, elf-knight, I promise you much pleasure,” he said softly.  “Trust 
me, Elrohir.”

The younger twin looked into the Sinda’s eyes and answered, “I do, my 
prince.”

Legolas smiled.  “Say my name, Elrohir.”

“Legolas,” Elrohir breathed.

“Ah yes, it sounds good on your lips, dark one.  You will do more than whisper 
it before this day is through.”   

Legolas laid Elrohir down and hovered over the peredhel’s body on his hands 
and knees.  He looked at the gooseflesh that was raised on Elrohir’s skin, 
watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed rapidly, listened to the barely 
perceptible whimpers of anticipation that escaped his pupil’s lips.  Gazing at 
Elrohir, he spoke to Elladan.

“Watch his body, how he trembles in anticipation and need…” he placed his 
hand on Elrohir’s chest, hearing a soft gasp and feeling the peredhel rise up to 
meet his touch, “…see how he arches into me, how he seeks more contact.”  
Bending his elbows he leaned down, brushing the curve of Elrohir’s ear with 
his lips.  “Mmm, he likes this,” he murmured.  “See how he turns his head, 
how he wads the sheets in his fists.  Your brother likes a soft touch; I thought 
he would.”

Elladan was enrapt.  His heart was quickening, his blood was burning, the ache 
in his loins was beginning to consume his every thought.  He watched as 
Legolas kissed and caressed Elrohir, as Elrohir arched into the prince’s hands 
and quietly pleaded for more.  When Legolas kissed his brother, he felt his 
arousal twitch and begin to weep.  As Legolas explored Elrohir’s body with his 
hands and his mouth, Elladan ached more.  Deep in his shrouded thoughts, he 
tried to imagine what it would be like to be Legolas now, to feel Elrohir arch 
into him, reach for him, to taste Elrohir, to hear Elrohir moan his name.  He 
squeezed the base of his arousal, trying to stave off his own climax as he 
watched Legolas’ mouth engulf Elrohir’s turgid length, and heard his twin’s 
aching cry of pleasure.  

His eyes fluttered closed.  It was too much, he could not bear to see it any 
longer; he could not bear to look into Elrohir’s transformed face.  He heard the 
sound of his twin’s breathing begin to slow, felt the torrent of Elrohir’s 
emotions and lustful thoughts diminish in his own mind, and then he felt the 
prince’s breath fan his lips.

“I would not leave you so wanting, Elladan.  Come, it is time for your brother 
to learn as well.”  

Elladan opened his eyes and looked at Elrohir.  He could feel his twin 
searching his thoughts – Elrohir was worried about him.  He smiled at his 
younger brother, imparting a sense of ease to his twin before taking the 
prince’s hand and kneeling before him.

“All lovers are different,” Legolas said quietly, addressing Elrohir but looking 
deep into Elladan’s eyes.  “Some, like you, like a soft touch, like to be caressed 
and held and treasured.  Indeed, lovemaking is an intimate act for you, my Elf-
knight.  But there are others…” he caressed Elladan’s chest, his fingers splayed 
wide, pressing his hands into the elder twin’s flesh, “…there are others who 
like it a bit more . . . rough.”  He smiled as he watched Elladan’s lips part and 
move closer to his own.  He slid his hand into the peredhel’s heavy hair and 
fisted it, pulling Elladan’s head back to expose his neck.  The elder twin’s lips 
curled into a feral sneer and Legolas smiled.  “Be careful what you ask for, 
Elladan,” he murmured, and he marked the elder twin’s throat with teeth and 
tongue.

Elrohir lay on his side, listening to the feral growls and deep moans that issued 
from the two lovers.  Elladan fisted the smooth wood of the prince’s headboard 
as Legolas’ fingers raked his chest.  He arched into the Sinda’s touch, fighting 
to control his thoughts as Legolas plied his body.  A strangled, aching cry of 
need escaped his lips as the prince’s warm mouth explored the apex of his 
thighs, and he felt Elrohir’s reassuring hand on his arm.  He quickly reached 
out and clasped his brother’s hand, squeezing it as Legolas laved his length.

“Do not make me wait, Sinda,” he groaned.

Legolas laughed huskily.  “No?  Is not the anticipation part of the pleasure?”

“I have waited long enough.”

Legolas raked his fingers up Elladan’s thighs.  “Aye, Son of Elrond, you have.”  
Then he swallowed the peredhel’s length in one smooth motion.

A growling curse escaped Elladan’s lips and he heard Elrohir’s voice in his ear.  
“Is it not magnificent?  Can you not feel your blood boil?”

“Aye, little brother,” he murmured, still fighting to maintain control of his 
thoughts.  “I can.” 

It was over sooner than Elladan would have liked, but he could take no more.  
With a strangled cry, he erupted deep into the prince’s throat, and then felt his 
body grow heavy as he sank into the soft bedding.  Blinking, he slowly opened 
his eyes and gazed into the prince’s own.  “You are a fine teacher,” he said 
with a weary smile.

Legolas laughed as Elrohir pulled him down in between them. “I am so glad 
you think so.”  He wrapped one arm around each of the twins and closed his 
eyes.  Elrohir squirmed away just long enough to reach down and pull the 
blankets up around them, then the younger twin quickly settled back into his 
arms.  “There are many more lessons to learn, my pupils,” he said with a yawn.  
“But for now, a rest has been well-earned.”

“And what of you, my liege?” Elrohir whispered into Legolas’ ear.

“I can wait a short while,” he answered, turning his head to press a gentle kiss 
to Elrohir’s forehead.  He then closed his eyes for a quick nap before they had 
to rise and join the other warriors in the feasting hall.

*    *    *    *

“Tell me,” Thranduil murmured, raking his fingers down Glorfindel’s broad 
back.  “Why do you not just bring your belongings into my chambers?  You 
have spent every night since you arrived in my bed.  It seems foolish for you to 
maintain a separate bedchamber that you never use.”

Glorfindel blinked slowly, leaning back into Thranduil’s touch.  The king was 
gaining far more control than he felt comfortable with.  “It is proper that I do 
so, my lord.”

“I have never cared much for what is proper,” Thranduil answered in a low, 
sensual purr.  “And it is my realm, I do believe I will decide what is proper.  
And why do you insist on referring to me as your lord?  You do know my 
name.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes.  “I am attempting to maintain a sense of decorum, 
after all, I was sent here for reasons other than being your plaything.”

“We are in my bedchamber, not the council chambers,” Thranduil answered 
with a mischievous grin.  “Call me selfish, but given that you are in my realm 
and under my command, as temporary as that may be, I insist that you not only 
call me by name, but behave like a proper lover and give me what I want.”

‘What he wants, what he wants… What of what I want?’ Glorfindel thought.  
“And what of me?”

“Oh, I will see to it that you are well and truly bedded, my magnificent 
warrior.”

In a flash of anger, such as he was once prone to long ago, he wheeled on 
Thranduil, grasping his lover by his throat and pinning him against the wall.  “I 
am no whore for you to use when you see fit,” he growled.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in surprise as he gazed into Glorfindel’s darkened 
gaze.  “I never said you were,” he answered in as even a tone as he could 
manage, given the grip the Elda had on his throat.

“But it is how you treat me.  You take and take without regard to what I may 
want or need.  I was fine before I came here…” he released the king’s throat 
and stepped back.  “Now look at me.  What have you done to me?” his voice 
trailed off.  He turned his back and took a deep breath, struggling to regain his 
composure.  “I died once because I could not rein in my desires.  I will not do 
that again.  If I am to die in this life, it will be for something more honorable 
than love or desire.”  

Thranduil watched in mute shock as the warrior stalked out of his bedchamber.

To be continued…