Part 12

      Erestor could feel the sharp edge of fear cutting through his 
awareness. His heart was beating fast and his breath was unusually 
short, as if the endless run through the woods has emptied his energy 
reserves. But it wasn’t the fact that he was constantly in motion that 
unsettled him so, it was the strange, dark forest he was running 
through. The bark on the tall and thin trees was so dark it seemed 
almost black, and the leaves had the colors of reds, dark green and 
purple, wrapping the whole forest in darkness and shadows. Hs elven 
hearing let him hear all of the creatures hiding just on the edge of his 
vision. He could hear their strange heartbeats, unlike any creatures he 
knew, and hear the hungry growls leaving the dangerous jaws.

Underneath this, all he could hear was the sound of a tiny little bell he 
tried desperately to follow. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know what it 
meant, only that everything in him pushed him into following the 
silvery sound, so out of place in this terrifying forest that seemed to 
defy all that Elves knew about nature, its sounds, smells and feel. In 
this forsaken place, everything was different, everything was changed, 
wrong somehow. The nature here screamed to  Erestor that he didn’t 
belong here, that he was somehow out of place here in this forest. The 
rational part of him knew he should leave, he should turn back to 
where he came from. But every time he was ready to resign, he would 
hear the alluring sound of a tiny bell and he would run in the direction 
of the sound, calling something, someone… he didn’t know who. 

His lungs burned, his senses were completely lost in the strange, dark 
forest that was so unwelcoming to him, he could feel his hair loose and 
tangled around his shoulders, cold feel the branches pulling at it 
painfully, deliberately. The sounds were louder and louder, so loud 
they started to thrum in his ears with rhythmic waves that 
overshadowed even his pounding heart and his harsh intakes of 
breath, finally he could hear nothing except the vicious forest and he 
screamed in strangely excruciating anguish as he realized that he 
could no longer hear the sound of the little bell.

Erestor woke with his heart beating hard and fast, and his throat sore, 
to an empty bed and darkened room. He took a deep breath and let it 
out slowly as his mind supplied him with information that he was alone 
in his quarters in Imladris. 

With sharp, jerky movements he sat up on the bed and then headed to 
the beautifully crafted chest with a carafe of water and a heavy, 
crystal goblet. He looked at the beautiful things in his quarters, at the 
wealth he had for so many centuries and his mind went back to the 
times when he had to work so very hard for anything to eat, to the 
times when the fact if he had a place to sleep or not was decided by 
his achievements in the art of murder. His life changed so very much 
from that time. He had loved and was shown what a foolish thing love 
was. He was an assassin, a husband, a spy, a lover, a friend, a beggar 
and a master. But looking at his hands, so deceptively slender he 
knew, that deep down in his heart he has never changed. He was still 
one of the disgraced race – Noldo – the Elves that killed their own 
kind. Other elves looked at him and saw a dark haired and dark eyed 
Elf of Noldo birth, and they didn’t trust him, feared him, the crimes of 
his race casting a shadow on him, but little did they know. He wasn’t 
just a soldier that did what was ordered of him, he was something 
much, so much worse. He was a master assassin and it wasn’t entirely 
because he had to become one in order to survive, no it was because 
he liked to fight and he liked to win. He was patient and cunning and if 
he couldn’t beat his opponent in a fair fight, he would ultimately find 
another way, another means of destroying his enemies.

And that was the reason why he had the strange dream. He didn’t 
really know it’s meaning, but he had it every time he was troubled by 
something. The dream reappeared in almost unchanged form for 
centuries, and he was always looking for the sound of the little silver 
bell.

Erestor suspected that the reason for his dream was the fact that for 
the first time, he wasn’t satisfied with his victory.

Lindir.

The silver haired Elf finally broke and came to him, breaking his own 
ultimatum, letting go of all of his dreams with the one gesture coming 
to Erestor’s rooms a week ago and asking Erestor to take him back. 

The Noldo won, Lindir accepted his rules and his ways. There were no 
more declarations of feelings, no more demands from the younger Elf. 
He should be happy about it, but strangely, he wasn’t. He’d gotten 
everything he wanted, a beautiful lover and no strings, no emotional 
attachment but was it really so? The fact that Lindir stopped voicing 
his emotions, that he calmed and controlled his emotions so well, 
somehow grated on Erestor’s nerves.

A wise man said to be careful of what one wishes for, because wishes 
could come true. And it seemed true in his situation. Lindir pushing 
him into a relationship was not something he could tolerate, but the 
more than usually quiet Elf that he’d turned into now was even more 
irritating. Lindir seemed to loose something with his decision to 
respect Erestor’s rules, he lost the sparkle, the gentle, almost 
enthusiasm for their games.

At the beginning, the silver haired Elf was so very eager and trusting, 
so ready to let Erestor do as he pleased, relaxed in the trust he put 
into the Noldo. But now, as they were together, Lindir hid his feelings, 
the true ones so deep even Erestor had trouble reading him. He still 
agreed to everything Erestor suggested, but his body language was 
different, his body wasn’t as relaxed as before and it angered Erestor 
that obviously, Lindir didn’t trust him with his body anymore. He 
thought they had solved the problem that the night after the banquet, 
explained what caused Erestor’s behavior. Lindir should know that in 
the scene, while playing, Erestor wouldn’t hurt him for real, he never 
did, and although Lindir may say that everything was all right, his 
body almost screamed that thing’s weren’t right. That disturbed 
Erestor so much he stopped the games three days ago and stopped 
seeing Lindir, saying that he had some important matters to attend to 
and couldn’t afford distractions. He was sarcastic and a little unfriendly 
toward Lindir lately, but his anger at Lindir started dissipating as time 
went by. He supposed there probably was a reason for Legolas to bed 
Lindir, but admitting it would mean that he made a mistake, and he 
wasn’t sure that his former friend would want to mend their broken 
friendship. In Erestor’s eyes, they’d already gone much too far, so 
admitting to Legolas that he should have asked before reacting was 
already pointless. 

Disgusted with his thoughts, Erestor turned away from the chest and 
opened his closet, searching for clothes. He needed to do something to 
clear his mind and push thoughts of Lindir away from him. He was 
never again going to let himself fall into the trap of feelings. If he 
decided that Lindir had become too much of a distraction, he would 
send the young Elf away from Imladris. With his position as a Chief 
Advisor he could do that easily. He would find the young Elf some nice 
place, a nice pay and get him away from himself. But that would be if 
he couldn’t handle their arrangement. For now, he needed something 
to get his mind away from all this.

He left his quarters and headed for Glorfindel’s rooms. 

*	*	*

Elladan poked the fire one more time. His eyes were darting towards 
the barely visible path in the bushes, the path leading to where Elrohir 
was taking a bath in a small pond.

He twitched again in a show of restlessness very uncharacteristic for 
him. Something wasn’t right and it was driving him insane with 
nervous energy. It had something to do with his twin. His brother had 
changed. Elladan couldn’t tell for sure, but he could sense a change in 
Elrohir, a sudden change which he knew nothing about and he found, 
that he didn’t like that at all. He couldn’t put a name to it right now 
but it was upsetting him greatly.

A few days earlier, when they gathered to ride out on a patrol, Elladan 
was surprised to find his brother just this side from being late. He ran 
through the courtyard, flushed and with his hair flying loose, as if he 
hadn’t had the time to braid it properly. His lips were still swollen and 
Elrohir had no doubt that Elrohir had just left a lover’s bed. The 
knowledge filled him with unease and he snapped at his brother with 
unnecessary sharpness. The fact that Elrohir couldn’t quite meet his 
eyes either, did not help at all, only causing a cold bile to settle in his 
throat.

However during the patrol, when his younger twin kept his distance 
from him, and consciously avoided any physical contact between them, 
Elladan felt the unease change into worry. Something had to be 
seriously wrong for Elrohir to suddenly act like that. They were twins, 
closer than anyone could understand, shared extraordinary awareness 
of each other, they loved each other in a deep, fierce wan and showed 
that in a tactile way, touching and holding each other. Elrohir’s sudden 
withdrawal was uncharacteristic and it pained Elladan. 

He insisted on talking to Elrohir that night, when they would both 
leave the camp to take a bath and get rid of the two day’s worth of 
sweat and dirt. To his astonishment Elrohir refused, insisting that he 
would leave to take a swim in the nearest pond alone.

Feeling hurt and bewildered at his twin’s refusal to share his problems, 
Elladan snarled ‘Fine’ and stalked back to the fire, crouching in front, 
and poking it with a stick, making a point of not looking at Elrohir 
when he gathered some things and left for the pond. 

Now, fifteen minutes later, his temper had cooled off considerably and 
he was beginning to twitch nervously again. That was it, he decided. 
He was going to find his brother and force, if necessary, the truth out 
of him, even if it took all night.

With that in mind he rose to his feet quickly and gracefully, testimony 
to his elven heritage, and grabbed his saddle bag. 

“Ciro!” He called one of the warriors in their twelve person squad. 
When the blond Elf looked at him with a silent question in his light blue 
eyes he nodded towards the pond.

“I’m going to take a bath. You take the first watch, then Malean and 
Elar.”

“Aye,” nodded the warrior and retrieved his bow.

Sure that as the camp things were taken care of, Elladan headed 
towards the pond, his mind firmly set on forcing Elrohir to tell him the 
truth.

*	*	*

Elrohir sighed taking his clothes off and stepping into still sun warmed 
water. Elves sweat very little, but his part Human heritage provided 
him with the same weaknesses the Men had, so he sweated. Hating to 
smell like, that he grabbed a bar of soap he brought with him and 
started scrubbing himself vigorously.

When he reached down to soap his thighs he hissed at the sting of 
soap on still fresh cuts. He finished soaping as quickly as possible and 
took a dive into the water to wash it off, get rid of the stinging. After 
swimming a few paces under the water, he emerged on the surface 
near some big, flat stones submerged halfway under the water. The 
stone he touched was still warm from the sun and he lifted himself up 
on it, smiling at the warmth under his buttocks.

Elrohir lifted his head to the night sky and closed his eyes. Just before 
leaving on the patrol he asked Legolas to mark him hard enough, so 
that he would still feel it a week after and it was no easy treat , taking 
his elven healing under account, but between them, they managed. 
Elrohir wanted, no needed it so much that Legolas agreed only after 
telling Elrohir that the marks could not hamper his movements in any 
way. It could prove dangerous during a fight.

Using the knowledge passed to him by Elrond he prepared a salve with 
almost opposite properties than Elrond’s healing salve. Elrohir’s 
concoction caused the thin cuts and flogger marks to take three times 
longer than they would usually to heal.

And now, sitting naked on a warm stone, eyes closed, surrounded only 
by the silence of the night, he couldn’t keep the small smile from his 
face, as with each move he could feel the cut’s on his back sting a 
little, and the skin on his thighs and buttocks was still bright pink from 
the heavy spanking it received. Almost every inch of his body that was 
usually covered by clothes was marked by Legolas in some way.

Elrohir spread his knees a little, enjoying the pleasurable pull at his 
still bruised skin of his thighs. The bruises were tender but they did 
not sting with any real pain. Legolas never crossed the line, never hit 
too hard, always kept Elrohir on that fine edge between pain and 
pleasure he needed so much. 

Slowly Elrohir touched his chest, sliding his cool and still wet fingers 
towards his nipples that were still slightly swollen after wearing nipple 
clamps for almost two days constantly. He loved them, absolutely 
adored the device ever since Legolas introduced him to it. Quite 
frankly he loved each and every toy Legolas used on him, well maybe 
except that cruel piece of leather his lover used to tie around his 
aching shaft to stop him from having an orgasm. 

Remembering the things Legolas had used on the outside as well as 
the inside of his body, Elrohir let his hand travel lower, between his 
welt-marred thighs to his already thickening shaft and started touching 
himself, imagining that his wet fingers were in reality Legolas’ tongue 
tracing the contours of his engorged elfhood. 

*	*	*

 Elladan stood still as a statue on the very edge of the three line, 
watching the incredible sight in front of him. He always knew that he 
noticed his brother’s body just a little too much to be it simple 
brotherly affection, but he had never really put a name to all the 
different feelings that surged through him, leaving him lost and 
confused, what resulted in his short temper and snapping at Elrohir as 
if it was his fault. His behavior had only succeeded in pushing his 
brother away, creating empty and painful distance between them.

But now, watching his twin’s lithe figure stretched over the flat stone, 
knees bent slightly and spread, and his long fingered hand moving 
over his groin in an unmistakable, rhythmic way, the realization hit 
him.

It wasn’t even as shocking as it should be. Somehow, subconsciously 
he had probably known it for a long time.

He wanted Elrohir.

He longed to crawl on that flat rock, his body over his brother’s almost 
identical one, covering him. He wanted to taste those partly open lips, 
to feel the heat on that flushed face on his own skin… wanted to reach 
out and hold his brother’s erection, wanted to taste it, lick it, see 
Elrohir’s face when he took it in his mouth.

His heart was pounding so hard he could almost feel it in his throat. 
His mouth was pounding so hard he could almost feel it in his throat. 
His mouth was dry and he couldn’t even swallow to moisten it. His 
eyes were fixed on the incredible sight of his brother pleasuring 
himself. 

Elladan watched as his twin’s head fell back, wet black hair falling 
down the stone block back to the water like an onyx waterfall. His pale 
face was now flushed, eyes closed, with long eyelashes fluttering 
madly over the heated cheeks. Elrohir’s lips opened in a soundless 
moan as his brow furrowed in concentration.

Mesmerized, Elladan watched as his twin moved his other hand, 
stroking it over his peaked nipples, and then sliding it lower, over his 
flat, well muscled stomach and lower into the patch of thick, curly hair 
on his groin.

The older brother shivered and let out a small moan when he imagined 
that Elrohir was touching his testicles. What it must feel like? Hard and 
encased in incredibly soft and vulnerable skin, or maybe his fingers 
strayed even lower touching the tender and responsive pucker, the 
entrance to his body? Elladan’s fingers twitched, almost feeling the 
silky, warm skin under his fingertips.

His own groin pulsed as the fire of desire surged through his veins, 
causing his whole body to thrum in a soul shattering need.. suddenly 
Elrohir tensed, his hips going up and off the rock and he shuddered, a 
splash of white, pearly liquid landed on his chest, glistening in the cold 
light of the stars.

Panting heavily, totally transfixed by the sight in front of him, Elladan 
watched Elrohir lay limply on the flat rock, obviously basking in the 
afterglow, if the small smile on his lips was any indication. 

Elladan knew he should go now. He shouldn’t have invaded his 
brother’s privacy in such a way in the first place. Besides he needed to 
think about what had just happened. He was honest with himself 
enough to know that his desire for his twin was nothing new. It was 
the reason for his unease that morning when they left for the patrol. 
He was jealous when he realized that his brother had just left another 
Elf’s bed.

Seeing that his brother was starting to move. Elladan took a step back 
ready to leave when Elrohir sat up and then stood up on the flat stone. 
Just before his twin took a beautiful dive into the water, Elladan 
noticed the marks. He gasped, Elrohir’s back, buttocks and thighs were 
covered in a myriad of cut’s and welts.

Cold fury filled his chest at the thought of somebody hurting his little 
brother like that. All thoughts of desire were forgotten instantly as he 
stepped out on the clearing. He needed to know who hurt his brother 
and kill that bastard!