WARNINGS: some heavier BDSM later in the chapter, some violence

Part 10

Summary: Erestor sees Lindir leaving Legolas’s chambers and starts a 
fight. Then he talks to Lindir, but the scribe does something 
unexpected. In the meantime, Elrohir learns that he has to go on a 
two week long patrol in two days time.


Erestor watched Lindir leave Legolas’s chambers and he could feel 
everything in him freeze. The marks on his neck and the careful way 
he was walking told him everything he needed to know. 

His bruised, swollen lips were a clear testimony of the night he spent 
with Legolas and probably Elrohir too. 

He watched the lithe, pale figure move quietly down the corridor and 
felt something inside him twist and coil. Something cold and angry. All 
of his being concentrated on breathing,. In and out. In and out.

A red haze in front of his eyes made it difficult to think, only to feel 
and hate. God, but he was angry. So much, so deep… Legolas was his 
friend, he should never take what is his!

His hands flexed at his sides and some part of his mind, the one still 
rational tried to reason with him, tell him that he was too angry, to out 
of balance to do anything, but he wouldn’t listen.

Suddenly, he found himself in front of the wide, carved door knocking 
lightly, carefully. Centuries of training came back to him, and even 
without thinking, he knew that if he knocked that way, it would be 
answered because Legolas would probably take him for Lindir. And he 
wasn’t mistaken. 

As soon as he saw the door crack, he pushed with all his weight, 
forcing them open all the way.

“What…?”

Legolas never had a chance to finish that question. Only his Elven 
reflex allowed him to avoid the fist that rushed at his face.

Legolas jumped back, barely holding his balance and stared at 
Erestor’s face. It was pale, drawn and his dark eyes were gleaming 
with a cold fire that sent shivers down his spine. It didn’t take a genius 
to realize what the cause of Erestor’s behavior was. 

After a brief moment of confusion, Legolas felt his own anger come 
back. The memory of Lindir's pale, tormented face and body so cold 
that he was afraid that the young Elf was already dead from grief, the 
images caused a fire to start in his chest. He was so incredibly angry 
at Erestor! How could he hurt such an innocent being like Lindir?

However, the physical aggression was something that he would have 
never guessed. Erestor was always so much in control over his actions, 
that seeing him so out of it, so enraged that he was willing to attack 
Legolas was unsettling. Still Legolas, was not going to make it easier 
on the advisor. 

“You don’t have right to any claim on him anymore Erestor, you broke 
with him!” Answered Legolas, his own anger rising and boiling inside 
his chest

Erestor hasn’t answered to this, only growled and made a sudden 
launch for Legolas, using one of his moves to plant a solid blow on 
Legolas’s side. The other Elf felt his breath leave his body, but still 
managed to jump away to avoid another blow like it.

“You were supposed to be my friend!” Snarled Erestor, enraged.

Legolas was surprised to see hurt and betrayal in the advisor’s eyes. 
This caused him to hesitate just a moment too long. It was enough for 
Erestor to tackle him to the ground. They rolled, trying to hit and avoid 
blows, rage and hurt warring inside them like their bodies outside. 

Legolas knew that he had to get up on his feet, because Erestor was 
heavier and better trained in hand-to-hand combat than he was, but 
the advisor was too strong to break his hold. The formal robes had 
always hid the strong muscles of a trained assassin and, although 
sometimes lovers, Legolas forgot just how dangerous Erestor could be.

“I trusted you.” Snarled Erestor in a low, dangerous voice and Legolas 
felt one of his hands tighten around his neck.

When Legolas prepared to twist his hips and try to dislocate Erestor 
from him, the advisor gasped as he was suddenly pulled from the 
blonde prince.

Coughing, Legolas looked up to see shirtless Elrohir kneeling on the 
floor behind enraged Erestor and keeping him in a powerful head lock 
with his right arm, and the left twisting Erestor’s arms behind him with 
incredible power. All of Elrohir’s muscles were standing out under the 
golden skin, and his body was taut with tension, when he struggled to 
hold Erestor off balance, squeezing his throat hard enough to cause 
Erestor to wheeze.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Snarled the younger Peredhil with 
an anger rarely seen from him.

Legolas got up carefully, massaging his throat and keeping a careful 
eye on Erestor. He saw that the dark eyes of the advisor cleared a 
little and became more aware. The rage was backing off.

“Let him go Elrohir, I think he is reasonable again.” 

After a slight hesitation, Elrohir released the advisor and stood as well, 
going to his lover and checking his throat. He knew there would be 
bruises, but otherwise Legolas looked okay.

“Maybe one of you can enlighten me? Why did you two behave like 
stupid Men, that never heard of something like restraint in their lives! 
You were fighting for Valar’s sake! The Chief Advisor of Imladris and 
the Prince of Mirkwood!”

Both Elves had the grace to blush.

Elrohir stopped his tirade when he realized what had enraged Erestor.

“You know.” Elrohir said quietly.

Erestor turned his head so fast that Elrohir was barely aware of his 
movement, until he had those black, piercing eyes spearing him with a 
cold, controlled rage that seemed ten times more scary than when he 
was fighting Legolas.

“Yes.” The word was all but hissed in a low, dangerous tone. The rage 
that was still just behind the cold stones of Erestor’s eyes now seemed 
closer to the surface. “I know what you did.” He turned back to 
Legolas. His figure stiff and full of anger. “How dare you drag him into 
your dirty games?”

Something flashed in Legolas’s eyes and he was no longer that gentle, 
delicate golden beauty.

Elrohir was stunned to see that the physical attack had not angered 
Legolas nor caused him to be aggressive, but a single word about his 
relationship with Elrohir and the change was outstanding.

In a matter of seconds, Legolas was face to face with Erestor, his eyes 
narrowed and his body language giving off a heavy warning.

“Don’t you dare Erestor, don’t you ever dare to speak about me and 
Elrohir in such a way. I have never lied to him about my feelings, nor 
have I used his love to have a perfect slave!”

“Watch your words Princeling! Lindir is not…”

“No?” Interrupted Legolas, with pure venom in his voice.  “Are you 
sure? He loves you more than anything in his life, would do anything 
for you and he agrees with EVERYTHING that you want from him! He 
takes, with quiet dignity, everything you throw at him. Haven’t you 
seen the hurt in his eyes when you acted towards him as if he was no 
more than an assistant to you? One you didn’t even like! Have you 
seen his pain? Have you ever seen his shame? He swallowed his pride, 
the last shreds of his dignity only for you! For sex, because there was 
no other love he could get from you! And what did you give him in 
return?”

Erestor was clearly shocked by Legolas harsh speech; full of fire and 
accusations. Even Elrohir, who was angry at Erestor for his treatment 
Lindir, was surprised by the sheer force of anger that was rolling off of 
Legolas in waves.

“Violence! You hit him, hurt him not only physically but mentally! You 
betrayed his trust in you and didn’t even have the courage to ask his 
forgiveness. Instead you run! Like a coward!”
“Don’t you dare…”

“What? Call you a coward? Maybe you are a warrior, maybe you can 
defeat an enemy, but you are scared shitless of every single emotion!” 
Snarled Legolas, his blue eyes shining with thousands of emotions, 
anger leading. “ At the very sign of emotional ties, you curl your tail 
and run!”

Elrohir noticed how Erestor’s hands clenched and his posture became 
even more rigid and in that moment he knew that the fight would start 
once again if he didn’t pacify his lover.

“Legolas!” He called, dragging the attention to him. “I think you should 
calm down.”

Legolas opened his mouth to slap Elrohir with his words, but 
reconsidered and took a deep breath instead, keeping it for a while 
and then letting go slowly, trying to let go of his anger also.

“I think that this conversation has no sense.” Erestor looked at the 
blond Elf, his friend and sometime lover and barely restrained himself 
from attacking him. What enraged him more, was the strength of his 
reaction. Nothing, in the past few hundred years had caused him to 
attack Legolas. He always thought that their friendship was above it. 
“If you ever touch Lindir again… I will kill you.”

The words were delivered in a cold, calm voice that left no room for 
misunderstanding. Erestor was deadly serious.

The cold black eyes, hiding a millennia old pain and art of restraint, 
met the shocked blue eyes of his ex lover and held the gaze for a long 
time, both remembering the times they had spent together, the trust 
and easy understanding they shared.

“We are through.” Erestor delivered the final blow, watching Legolas 
close his eyes and the pain that flashed on the beautiful face of the 
Mirkwood prince.”

Legolas felt an iron fist of pain clench above his heart. All this was so… 
unexpected, although he should have foreseen it.

Erestor was his best, closest friend. One that knew everything about 
him. One that shared his secrets with him. The first person that had 
understood his needs and did not try to change him. Just accepted 
him, as he was.

He loved him. Not like a lover, but like a friend. Someone even closer 
than family…

Legolas closed his eyes against the pain that cut through him, sharp 
like a knife.

“Erestor…” He called, when the other Elf was near the door. The Noldo 
stopped but didn’t look back. “Love is a rare thing… don’t let it pass 
you by Erestor… don’t push Lindir away.”

The dark haired Elf stiffened his posture a little more and reached for 
the handle.
“You are wrong Legolas. Love… doesn’t exist.”

With those last words, Erestor left the chamber.

*	*	*

Erestor was heading towards the barracks. He was so incredibly angry. 
Fury swirled slowly through his veins, burning his body with its 
intensity. He couldn’t believe that he lost control like that. That he 
started a FIGHT with Legolas!

Some part of him knew that the blonde prince had held back. He 
sparred with Legolas long enough to know that if the Mirkwood prince 
wanted to fight, for real, there would be blood, because Legolas never 
parted from his daggers. 

Still, the thing that enraged him the most was the fact that he reacted 
like that at all. It was terrifying to know that Lindir had so much power 
over him. To force him to fight his friend, probably the closest one. 
How could he be so stupid? So careless to let that scribe get so deep 
under his skin? How stupid of him!

The energy from his anger, the pure rage that still hadn’t left his veins 
needed a way to get out.

He stopped when he saw Glorfindel practicing with his sword in the 
middle of a training chamber.

Perfect.

He and Glorfindel, maybe weren’t the closest friends, but colleagues at 
worst. They enjoyed the verbal spars and teasing that followed each 
argument. He found the Golden Lord wise and witty enough to provide 
entertainment and they sparred. Glorfindel was one of the few people 
aware of Erestor’s earlier… occupation. Not that Erestor told him that, 
but Glorfindel wasn’t stupid. He was a warrior most of his life and he 
KNEW an assassin when he fought one.

The Balrog Slayer stopped his training when he saw the expression on 
Erestor’s face. 

“Has something happened Erestor?”

Realizing that his features were betraying too much, Erestor carefully 
schooled them into an emotionless mask.

“Will you spar with me, Glorfindel?”

The words were even and carefully spoken, like Erestor always did, but 
something in his eyes sent shivers down Glorfindel’s back. Something 
was not right. He considered turning the offer down, but he had the 
feeling that Erestor really needed it. So he only nodded, putting his 
sword aside and backing off, giving the other Elf space. 

He watched as Erestor got rid of his outer clothes. When he was only 
in his black, tightly fitting black leggings he stepped on the mat and 
bowed to the Golden Lord.

Glorfindel barely managed to avoid the first, sneaking strike. Erestor 
moved quickly, circling Glorfindel, and swaying slowly to the ancient 
rhythm that only he heard. His attacks were fast, sneaky and 
incredibly dangerous.

They were fighting without weapons, only bare hands, but each hit 
that Glorfindel managed to avoid was bound to cause considerable 
damage if it reached its mark.

Erestor was furious. Glorfindel had never seen him fight with such 
abandon. His body sleek and incredibly fast was like a well oiled 
weapon – deadly in its efficiency.

The Golden Lord was much heavier than Erestor and had to change his 
tactics accordingly, especially since he had no chance at being as fast 
as Erestor.

They traded blows and countered with equal efficiency. After only few 
minutes, Glorfinder realized that the Noldo was not going to hold back 
and he stopped also. At first it was strange to let go in a fight with 
somebody that wasn’t a foe, but after one particularly painful blow to 
his stomach, Glorfindel tossed the restraint to the wind and they 
started fighting for real.

Erestor grunted when a powerful kick threw him on the nearby wall, 
but loosing no time he rolled on the floor and away from the fist that 
missed his face by mere inches.

The pain emanating from his side where the foot had connected with 
his body, helped to concentrate on the battle. His body was like a well 
oiled machine, going through motions almost without conscious 
thought and his mind kept straying.

He was in pain.

Not physical, because it wasn’t something that would bother him, not 
for long anyway, but emotional. He realized that loosing Lindir was not 
an option. He… didn’t want the scribe to disappear from his life.

But every time when he recalled Lindir's face when he left Legolas’s 
chambers the blood inside him boiled with rage. Jealousy. He couldn’t 
forget the still swollen lips, the red passion marks on both sides of his 
neck and the way he reeked of sex. The mere knowledge that both 
Legolas and Elrohir had him, possessed him, made him want to kill, to 
draw blood.

He was brought rapidly to reality when he felt his back hit the floor 
with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs and then the 
heavy mass of Glorfindel on his stomach, straddling him, keeping his 
arms pinned to the floor by his knees.

They were both sweaty and flushed, panting heavily with the strain of 
the fight that was harder that anyone could’ve expected. Here and 
there, there were traces of blood from small wounds they inflicted 
during the fight.

“In all the millennia I’ve known you, Erestor…” Panted Glorfindel, 
trying to calm his breathing. “I have never seen you so distracted, or 
this angry.”

The Golden Lord got up, letting go of Erestor, considering the fight 
won and turned to his clothes.

“Whoever he or she is, I suggest you go and apologize for whatever 
you did.”

“Glorfindel,” Warned Erestor, collecting his own clothes. “ It is not your 
business.”

The Balrog Slayer stopped on his way to the door and looked at 
Erestor with strangely sad eyes.

“Many, many millennia ago I had my chance, but I wasted it. You 
should - think about it Erestor, because you can meet your match, 
someone to be with till the end, only once in a lifetime.” 

The sadness and quiet knowledge in the Glorfindel’s voice and eyes 
forced Erestor to pause.

True, he often teased and joked with the warrior, but his stay at the 
Halls of Waiting, touched him with knowledge that he rarely shared. 
But when he did, he usually had a good reason to do it.

*	*	*

Somehow Lindir knew that Erestor would come. So now, looking at the 
handsome, dark haired Advisor standing in the doorway to his rooms, 
he wasn’t shocked. Strangely enough, his near death experience and 
that strange but intense night with Legolas and Elrohir left him 
unnervingly numb. But he was grateful for this, because he was 
actually able to look into Erestor’s eyes and not break down. 

Still in this strange state, Lindir stepped back to allow Erestor 
entrance. With longing he watched the calm, controlled movements of 
the Advisor who entered as if it were his own study.

“What do you want Erestor?” The voice was quiet, tired and so… sad.

“If you want, we can still be lovers.”

Erestor expected some kind of reaction, anything from Lindir. What he 
got, surprised and saddened him. Lindir just stood there, in front of 
him and looked at him with those pale, hurting eyes. He said nothing 
just looked, as if he could see what no one else could.

“But?” He asked calmly. “Because there is a but, isn’t there Erestor?” 
There was bitterness to his voice that shocked Erestor to the core. He 
had never heard such a tone from Lindir before.

“You have to listen to me. I will tell you things that others can only 
guess about my past.”

“What for?”

It was strange to stand in front of the pale Elf and try to convince him. 
Erestor’s mask was perfect and unbreakable. No emotion showed on 
the outside, no sign of his confusion. However, what surprised him was 
Lindir’s lack of emotion. The young scribe seemed so incredibly far 
away from Erestor. And to make matters worse, he could still see the 
passion marks left by Legolas and Elrohir the previous night. 

“So that you can understand why I acted like I did.”  Erestor 
explained. 

Lindir didn’t answer, he just sat in the chair and looked at him 
steadily, waiting and watching.

Erestor looked out of the window, his back to Lindir and started 
talking. He spoke of the Guild, the training to become and assassin, 
his first kill – a boy not older than himself, way before majority. He 
spoke of the kin-slaying, of the wars and the danger. The hurt and 
anger all of them had inside. Then he told Lindir about Imene.

Imene, so beautiful, erotic and loving. A foreign female that took his 
heart away. A warrior like him, but with a generous soul. She gave 
him peace of heart, love. She gave him something to change his life 
for. He left the Guild for her, shamed himself and his family, but it 
didn’t matter. All he wanted, all he needed was her. They bonded. 
Settled in a small town near the sea and tried to lead simple, normal 
lives without the blood on their hands.

He told Lindir about the little, new life that had grown in her. How he 
adored the child long before it was born, how he would lie with his face 
to her belly, trying to listen to their child. 

And then he told how Imene called her kin and took the child away 
from him. How she humiliated him, tore out everything that was inside 
him and kicked it into the dirt. How she told him that she cheated the 
bond, that it was only him bonded to her, not the other way around. 
How she threatened him that he should not to search for the child. But 
he wouldn’t listen. He never did. 

So he went in search of the child. He found it, a little girl even more 
beautiful than her mother, with large violet eyes that saw everything. 
Half Elf, half Fire Keeper.

But Imene was just as cruel as she promised and did the worst thing 
Erestor could imagine. She taught the child to hate him, to despise 
him. It happened many centuries ago, but he never again opened his 
heart to anybody.

Lindir just sat there, shocked into silence by the sheer cruelty of 
Erestor’s fate. He wanted to get up, put his arms around the older Elf 
and soothe his pain, but he knew it was foolish. Erestor didn’t need 
him, wouldn’t let him help. He knew that the Advisor left out a lot. His 
description was emotionless, dry, like a report from an uninvolved 
observer. He knew Erestor should deal with the past properly, 
something he obviously hadn’t done so far. But it wasn’t something to 
discuss today. It was time to discuss the thing between them, not the 
ghosts from the past.

“Now you see why I never wanted to be involved in a relationship. I 
never lied to you Lindir, I warned you that there would be no love on 
my side.”

He turned to look at the pale Elf still sitting in the wide, leather chair. 
His white hair was worn loose and falling over a face with eyes still 
puffy from tears. The scribe was uncharacteristically quiet. And it was 
strangely unnerving to Erestor, because he was used to the hyper-
active, bouncy young Elf with a genuine smile on his face. Not this 
calm, controlled and… lost figure in front of him. Suddenly, Lindir 
seemed older than he.

“I never said you didn’t warn me Erestor… but still, you broke your 
word.” The words were gentle, but firm. Lindir was in pain, it was so 
great that he couldn’t even look at Erestor, but he wasn’t some kind of 
push-over that could be treated as such. He was a grown, adult Elf, 
had a position in the Last Homely House. He had dignity, even if just 
now, it was in shreds.

Erestor closed his eyes when the memories of the night after fest 
came back to him full force. He felt cold shame and anger at himself. 
Anger for using his considerable strength and skill to intimidate and 
hurt his young lover. Anger for coming too close, for caring too much, 
for letting his emotions rule him.

“I know. And I am truly sorry for the way I treated you that night.”

Lindir looked up for the very first time since the beginning of the 
conversation.

“You don’t understand Erestor. I was angry and confused, a little 
scared at the way you treated me that night but it wasn’t anything we 
couldn’t just talk about. No.” His voice changed, becoming deeper, 
stronger. “You promised to respect me. It was the only promise I 
wanted and the only promise you gave me. But yesterday morning, 
when you told me I was no match for you, that I was just a toy for 
you… you humiliated me. You tore my heart out and threw it to the 
ground, spitting on my devotion to you and love. You humiliated me. 
No physical blow, no torture could compare to cruelty of your words 
Erestor.” 

Erestor was surprised at Lindir's words, though he shouldn’t have 
been. Somehow, he always thought that his violence towards Lindir 
was his worst sin.

“I…” Erestor hesitated for a moment, though it was unusual for him. “I 
had to do that.”

“No Erestor. You CHOSE to do that.”

“I had my reasons.”

“I know.” Whispered Lindir. “Legolas told me why, explained why you 
did that.”

Lindir watched his lover’s fists clench at the mention of the fair prince 
and what they did together. Lindir knew that he could soothe Erestor’s 
anger if he admitted that he was dying and it had been Legolas’s only 
way to save him, but it would show the Advisor just how much of a 
power he had over him. 

“What did he tell you?”

“That you didn’t mean what you said; that you only wished to push me 
away.”

Erestor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting his tension 
leave his body along with the air.

“He was right.”

There was silence between them. Heavy with unanswered questions 
and unheard answers.

“So now, after you broke my heart and humiliated me, you offer me 
what? A relationship, a commitment? ”

His pale blue eyes, now smoky and heavy with emotions that were 
buried so deep inside that his face showed nothing. Erestor found 
himself hating that stoic, emotionless face. So much like his own…

“No.” Lindir continued. Sarcasm that never before touched the young 
Elf’s face now hit full force. “What you offer me is less than that. I 
should share my body with you, give you what you want… But the 
relationship, or whatever this thing between us is called, must remain 
hidden. You are The Chief Advisor… it is below you to admit to having 
an affair with a lowly scribe. I am not allowed to express my feelings, 
towards you. I can not even hope for any kind of commitment from 
you Erestor. And no, this I will not hold against you, because you did 
warn me.”

Lindir stopped for a moment letting his words sink in and took a deep 
breath, gathering courage to say what he needed to say.

“Despite what you may think, I do have dignity, a sense of self worth. 
This thing you offer me… it’s not enough. I love you Erestor and 
sharing my body, my life with you, when you remind me at every 
single opportunity that I mean to you nothing more than a simple 
whore would… it hurts. It hurts too much. Each time I loose something 
Erestor, each night I loose a bit of my dignity, a part of my soul.”

Erestor was still looking outside, facing the window, his back was stiff, 
shoulders set with tension, iron self control. But he was in turmoil. He 
was shocked at the coldness that took residence in his heart at hearing 
Lindir's words. Coming here, he never imagined that Lindir could say 
“no” to his offer. He always took him for granted. Suddenly, the 
thought that Lindir may choose to stay away from him; refuse his 
offer, caused his stomach to clench painfully.

“So you decline.” He answered, surprised that his voice was cold and 
even as always.

“No Erestor. I do not wish to leave you. I merely want to change the 
rules.” There was a long, heavy silence between them, when both 
Elves weighed their options.

Lindir was terrified that he pushed too hard, wanted too much, but 
then he heard Erestor speak again.

“I am listening.”

“I want to be able to have hope. I want you to give me more of 
yourself.”

“What? Love?” Interrupted Erestor bitterly. He didn’t want to loose 
Lindir, but that he simply couldn’t give him what he asked. He would 
not love again. Never. “You want to hear those words? Even if they are 
not true?”

“No. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want. I just 
want more than I had. And I had nothing.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Friendship, trust… something to let me know that you care. That I am 
more than just a willing, warm, faceless body without an identity.”

Erestor cringed internally. He was shocked by Lindir's words. He never 
realized that he made Lindir feel like that.

“Is this all?” He didn’t want to sound like that, so cold and so harsh, 
but it came out in that manner anyway. Millennia’s of practice…

He could hear Lindir's soft, sad sigh.

“Just one more thing. That you wouldn’t be ashamed of me. I don’t 
want anything drastic. Just that we would be partners, an equal side of 
this relationship.” He fell silent for a minute. “It is not much, just… I 
want more. Let me know what you decide.”

Erestor turned to him and looked at the white haired Elf. He knew he 
should be angry, furious even at Lindir for trying to manipulate him, 
but surprisingly he wasn’t. Still, he could not show Lindir just how 
much of an effect the younger Elf had on him.

Carefully, keeping his stoic posture, he nodded curtly to him and left 
the room as if it hadn’t been anything more than a casual 
conversation. He never saw the raw fear in Lindir's face, as he stared 
at his retreating back.



*	*	*

Elrohir was torn. From the one side, he was sorry for Legolas that he 
had lost a close friend. On the other hand though, he knew that 
Erestor was his lover and seeing Legolas in such turmoil after Erestor 
left made him uneasy.

He knew that jealousy was a terrible and ugly feeling, but he couldn’t 
stop himself from wondering just how deep Legolas’s feelings for the 
other Elf went.

Unwilling to show his dilemma in the face of Legolas’s obvious pain, he 
approached the Mirkwood prince slowly and slid to the floor beside 
him.

He spent a moment watching his lover. Legolas sat on the floor, his 
back to the wall and his knees pulled high to his chest. He was resting 
his forehead on them and his arms encircled his legs loosely. There 
was pain and sadness in his body that was clearly visible. Elrohir could 
almost taste the regret coming off of Legolas in thick waves and felt 
like a total bastard for being jealous when his lover was in such pain.

“Legolas…” He whispered softly, one hand coming to the nape of the 
blonde Elf’s neck and stroking the warm, smooth skin under the fall of 
golden hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much Erestor meant to 
you.”

He tried to sound soothing, to reassure his lover, but didn’t quite 
manage to keep the uncertainty from his voice. 

Legolas raised his head and eyes as blue as the midnight sky found 
the stormy ones.

Elrohir swallowed nervously when those eyes regarded him with their 
uncanny intensity for long, long moments. Although they were of a 
similar age, Legolas seemed somehow more experienced, more 
mature than he himself. He looked at Elrohir as if he could see his 
soul. 

“I have already told you melethron, I love Erestor, he is… was my 
best, closest friend. Somebody that knew everything about me. But I 
am not in love with him. You don’t need to worry about it. I love you. 
You are the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.”

Elrohir swallowed and smiled warmly at his lover. It was strange how a 
person could make a difference. He certainly had enough experience 
with bedding Elves, he had many. He was good looking and he was a 
prince. That alone gave him many, many occasions to bed whom he 
chose. Now however, with this incredible, blonde Elf, he felt something 
that made him both happy and terrified. The feeling that grew in his 
soul, that flooded him each time he was close to Legolas was scary in 
its intensity. Sometimes when Legolas touched him, it was as if it was 
his first time.

“I…” Started Elrohir hesitantly. “I noticed that you got angry only when 
Erestor mentioned our relationship. Why? You know that I love you, 
and I know that you love me. Why get so angry?”

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, how little did you know 
Elrohir! Guilt and fear welled in his chest. The plan that started it all 
came back to him. The plan to get Elrohir with his brother…

Without a word, Legolas pulled the twin to him and kissed him slowly 
and sensually, thinking about the changes. He never suspected he 
would fall in love with the Peredhil, that he would be afraid of his own 
plans. But as much as he wanted Elrohir all for himself, he couldn’t 
deny the feelings he saw in the twins’ eyes when they looked at each 
other, thinking that the other wouldn’t notice.

There was hunger, pain… and love in that stare. Feeling so incredibly 
deep and so difficult.

Even if Elrohir stayed with Legolas, and even if they bonded, someday 
he was bound to realize his feelings, and then all three of them would 
suffer. No, if he loved the half-Elf he had to bring his plan to an end.

When he felt Elrohir’s lips were swollen and tender from their kiss, he 
broke it.

“I love you.” He whispered against the swollen, moist lips with an 
urgency that caught Elrohir’s attention. “I love you so much. 
Everything I do, I do it for you.”

“I know.” Answered the Peredhil, surprised by the urgency of Legolas’s 
voice.

“Do you?” Asked Legolas, staring in his lover’s eyes with strange need. 
“Do you trust me?”

“Aye.”

“If I did something… if ever something happened, would you believe 
my word? Would you?”

Elrohir frowned, sensing some painful, hidden feelings in his lover, and 
hastened to reassure him. “Aye. I would always listen to you, and 
believe you. Always.”

“Promise me.” Demanded Legolas, still not breaking their locked 
gazes.

“I promise.”

Legolas stared into the stormy eyes of his lover for a long time, 
searching for something, making sure, wanting to believe…

“Just remember the promise… just remember.”

“Legolas… what is this all about? Is something wrong? Something 
troubles you?”

Legolas closed his eyes, hiding the emotions from Elrohir and shook 
his head in denial.

“When I woke up this morning, you weren’t there, why?” Asked 
Legolas, obviously changing the subject, but Elrohir refused to push 
Legolas further.

“I got a message. There was a change of plans and I must leave on a 
patrol tomorrow evening.”

Legolas avoided his eyes, not wanting to show Elrohir his panic at 
being separated from his new lover so soon.

“How long?”

Elrohir licked his lips, equally unhappy about it.

“Three weeks.” The Peredhil was also unsure. Legolas was his first 
serious lover, first that moved something very deep inside him. And 
somewhere deep inside, he was afraid that he would not wait for him.

“I will miss you then.”

Elrohir looked at the beautiful golden prince.

“You will wait then?”

“Of course I will wait!” Legolas smiled at him. “Will Elladan be on the 
patrol also?” Asked Legolas casually.

“Aye. We always ride on patrols together.”

Legolas watched the dark haired Peredhil flush suddenly and look on 
the ground.

Sensing the change of mood, Legolas stood up, still not sure what 
Elrohir was so ashamed of asking.

He leaned on the wall and waited.

Elrohir licked his lips and swallowed loudly and then shook his head, 
letting the long, silky, dark hair fall on his face partially hiding his face 
and then started slowly approaching Legolas, moving on his hand sand 
knees and letting his spine arch just like that…

Legolas felt his breath hitch at the blatantly sexual display before him.

The dark haired Elf finally reached him and sat on his heels, looking up 
at Legolas through a veil of mussed, dark hair.

“I will be so long away from you… will you take me Legolas? Will you 
mark me as yours? Will you leave marks that will remind me of you for 
days to come? Will you possess me…harder than ever before?”

Legolas couldn’t hide his arousal even if he tried. The words, the tone 
and over all the burning, gray eyes undid him.

“Yessss.” He all but hissed the going to the door and bolting them. No 
one would interrupt them.

TBC in chapter 11

melethron - lover


Part 11


Lindir had no idea how long it’d been since he made that fatal ultimatum 
to Erestor. It wasn’t going to work. It couldn’t. 

After that first day, when the shock had worn off, Lindir realized just how 
stupid it was. Who had he thought he was to blackmail Erestor like this? 
No one. After all, it wasn’t as if it was Erestor who’d nearly died from 
grief!

The first night, he spent in his chair, looking empty-eyed at the sky outside 
his room, watching it fade from the black ink into gray morning and then 
into a full, bright day. 

Thoughts, memories were chasing each other in his mind, leaving him 
with the incredible sense of dread.

Erestor was not going to give in.

If there was one thing he learned about his mysterious lover, was that he 
loathed feelings. He considered emotions a weakness, a failure. Something 
that should be avoided. And he was not, absolutely not going to give up 
thousands of years spend in such belief, living up to his own, high 
standards, for someone as insignificant and weak as Lindir.

And he knew he was weak. He was weak because, after only five days, he 
was willing to beg Erestor for forgiveness.

It’d been seven weeks since the last time Erestor touched him, made love 
to him… took him in his arms and he missed it with an intensity that 
terrified him. But really it shouldn’t. After all, he knew he was in love 
with Erestor.

The thing that he never suspected, was the sheer force of this love. The 
overwhelming desire to BE with him, to see him, hear him speak, to be 
touched by him. It was so strong, that it became the sole meaning of his 
life. 

Lindir clenched his fists and pressed them to his hurting eyes. They felt 
dry and aggravated after all those hours spend on either crying or staring 
into space.

*
You Always Knew Just How To Make Me Cry 
And Never Did I Ask You Questions Why 
It Seems You Get Your Kicks From Hurting Me 
Don't Try To Understand Me 
Because Your Words Just Aren't Enough
*

Was it worth it? Was his honor, his dignity worth it? Worth staring into 
the space, hurting, feeling as if his should was being torn apart by every 
single passing minute, over and over again?

Now, after almost a week from their conversation Lindir was sure, that 
Erestor would not magically appear at his doorstep, promising him his 
love and undying affection. That Elf survived millennia after millennia of 
hurt and betrayal and had never truly worked through his pain. Never 
accepted it, never understood.

And Lindir, with all his feelings, emotions, was only a reminder of how 
painful love was. So the question was, was he capable of life WITHOUT 
Erestor? 

Lindir laughed mirthlessly at the dark, empty room. The answer was more 
than obvious. Of course he wasn’t. He nearly DIED when Erestor told him 
it was over between them.

No, after tasting the life with Erestor, after being with him, feeling what he 
could give him, even if he didn’t love him, Lindir would never be able to 
live without it. Not even to exist.

He needed Erestor more that air to breathe, food to eat or water to drink. 
When he lay sleeplessly in his empty bed, he could almost smell the herbs 
from Erestor’s shampoo. He could almost touch the silky expanse of skin 
stretched tightly over the steel muscles of his body. He could almost taste 
him, only to open his eyes and find himself alone. 

So what if Erestor didn’t love him back? He had love enough for both of 
them.

Lindir stood and made his way to the corridor, doing all he could to ignore 
that tiny, little voice inside that told him that it was not possible. That he 
couldn’t love for someone.

But the conscious, rational part of him knew that it was better to go to 
Erestor, and do everything that was possible to bring them back together. 
So what if he was going to die bit by bit each day? So what that his soul 
would be torn just that little bit every day?

He would be with Erestor.

It was thousands of times better than going mad from grief in his dark and 
lonely room. 

*	*	*

Erestor put aside the last letter and looked at the dark sky outside. It’d 
been almost a week since his conversation with Lindir and almost two 
months since he touched him last.

He sighed and rubbed the base of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 
It was strange how quickly he got tired now. As if his energy supply had 
lessened lately. 

Loosing his lover wasn’t anything new to him. Living for so many years, 
so many THOUSANDS of years, he had experienced it more than once 
and never did it affect him quite like this. 

He made a conscious effort to go back to his life again. He worked, he ate 
and slept. It was strange how his sleep didn’t seem quite so enforcing as 
before and the food tasted just a little bit odd.

There wasn’t anything in particular, just any different, little things that 
brought together, made his life a little more difficult, a little more sad.

And that cursed feeling of restlessness and tiredness was maddening. He 
was sick of feeling like that. He wanted his old life back. He wanted his 
joy back.

He remembered this morning when Legolas came to talk to him. It was so 
predictable that it would be Legolas who would bring the olive branch. 
With Elrohir on a patrol, he came to Erestor and offered a trust. 

Erestor suspected that the Mirkwood prince would not let their friendship 
go, without a fight. So they made up, with the promise from Legolas to not 
ever mention Lindir in their talks again.

But there was something not right with their friendship. The trust had been 
strained, and Erestor wasn’t too willing to try and make it better again.

It seemed that each time he let his temper flare, each time he let his 
emotions rule him, something in him burned out.  Finally, after all those 
ages, his life started wearing him down.

It was only strange how he never noticed how tired he was before. 

Erestor got up and cleaned his desk as usual, trying to maintain the illusion 
that nothing was changed in his life and then extinguished all of the 
candles. It was time to return to his chambers and prepare to sleep.

Whatever he felt, he didn’t allow the emotions to be visible on his face. 

He moved through the quiet dark corridors like a shadow, with stealth that 
was natural to elves and even more so for someone trained for 
assassinations from a mere child, such as himself.

The Chief Advisor went through his daily routine with short, effective 
movements that didn’t require much thought from him. He stripped from 
his robes and soft tunic, staying only in the black, tight fitting leggings. 

Bare-chested, he leaned over a basin filled with water and used a 
washcloth to clean himself. His face contracted when his sensitive fingers 
trailed along the scars on his body. Thin and almost invisible, they were a 
testimony to his violent youth. 

There was a reason he almost never got involved with young, 
inexperienced Elves. They were usually shocked to see the scars, to feel 
them on his body. And Gods, there were so many of them.

He never told anybody about his training. Those who knew he was born in 
a Guild of Assassins rarely knew just how the training looked. Legolas 
knew what caused some of the scars, from the very first glance he knew 
that they were not caused by any weapon nor were they attained in 
combat. The thin, stretched scars were something that connected Legolas 
and Erestor from the beginning. The fair Mirkwood Prince had enough of 
them on his own body to know that these kinds of scars were caused by a 
belt. No other thing could leave such marks. 

Throwing the washcloth back into the basin, Erestor closed his eyes 
thinking about the blonde prince. He missed him. Missed the friendship, 
the depth of it and easy acceptance they shared. 

By the Valar, how he wished that the last two months had never happened. 
He wanted Legolas’ friendship back – real and true. But now he doubted it 
would be possible. Not when Legolas bedded Lindir, not when he broke 
the trust between them.

Some corner of his mind, as it did from the start, rebelled at the 
knowledge. He knew the Mirkwood Prince for hundreds of years and he 
had never done anything to break the trust between them. He seemed so 
very honorable, so very loyal and devoted to their friendship.

But if the premonition was true, it would mean that Erestor had made one 
of the biggest mistakes in his life. He judged Legolas and attacked him… 
never really asking the question why.

Legolas fell so deep for the half-Elf that he barely noticed anybody else. 
And now, suddenly he seduces Lindir? Why?

Pouring himself a goblet of wine, Erestor wondered if there was 
something that he had missed, some detail that explained the unusual 
behavior of the golden prince. 

But there was something he also didn’t want to think about. If there was a 
valid reason, it would mean that his harsh behavior had caused him to 
loose not only the closest friend he ever had, but also his lover. He might 
not have loved Lindir, but he enjoyed his presence more than he was 
willing to admit.

*	*	*

Lindir stood in front of the heavy, oak door for what seemed as eternity 
before he forced himself to raise his hand and knock on them.

He could almost smell the musky, sharp scent of his lover behind them 
and it made his heart pound in anxiety. The pain inside reached unbearable 
level, and Lindir knew he was conquered by his fears, but spending even 
one more night without Erestor was not an option any more. He could not 
survive the loneliness he felt inside.

Taking a steadying breath he raised his hand and knocked.

“In!” came the harsh reply from the inside. Erestor certainly wasn’t one to 
have visitors today. There was a harshness to his voice that made Lindir 
hesitate again. 

Something akin to fear squeezed his throat when he reached for the 
handle. It wasn’t that he was afraid that Erestor would hurt him physically. 
No, that wasn’t a problem. The thing that made him feel unsure was the 
fact that Erestor would want to punish him. Punish for breaking from his 
role, for taking control and daring to give Erestor an ultimatum. 

Lindir shook his head. How stupid of him that was. There were many, 
much more intelligent and strong people trying to force the Chief Advisor 
into an ultimatum and no one ever succeeded. The Noldo was known for 
his exception mind, devious and calm, with sharp intelligence that cut 
straight to the bone. 

Taking a deep breath he pushed the handle and finally opened the door.

The room was encased in shadows lightened only by the three lamps, now 
dimmed to their lowest setting. Still Lindir barely noticed the room, his 
whole attention focused on the still figure of his lover standing beside the 
small table, a goblet in his hand. Erestor’s chest was bare, revealing the 
surprisingly well defined muscles and pale skin standing out in contrast to 
his shining, straight, black as an midwinter’s night hair falling in soft fall 
down to the middle of his back.

The Chief Advisor’s eyes were cold and hard, shadowed with feeling’s 
Lindir couldn’t understand. For a moment, he thought eh saw surprise 
there and something more, something akin to happiness, but it was gone so 
fast, he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t only his imagination. 

The dark haired Elf shifted suddenly, stepping back into the shadows. The 
movement left only part of his face lit by the soft glow of the oil lamps. If 
Lindir had any hopes of reading Erestor’s expression it was now fading 
rapidly. 
Not only did  the Noldo have an outstanding control over his features, but 
now shadows disguised them as well. 

“Lindir…” There was something dark in the deceptively smooth, cold 
voice. “Have you forgotten something?” The sharp sarcasm underlying the 
question cut Lindir to the core with a terrifying ease.

The fair haired scribe swallowed thickly, knowing that if he wanted to 
have something with Erestor he had to go through it, let the Advisor 
punish him, regain control, because this was what Lindir took away from 
the Noldo.

When they started their relationship Lindir submitted to Erestor, gave him 
power over his body as a gift, but when he faced Erestor with the 
ultimatum he took that control back. Lindir broke the very fundament of 
their strangely intense relationship.

He knew that Erestor needed to reestablish the balance of power and vent 
his anger. Still, knowing it and actually submitting to it was a completely 
different thing. Mentally Lindir knew that Erestor wouldn’t hurt him 
physically, but that was something he wasn’t afraid of even if Erestor did. 
No, what terrified him was his lover’s potential in cruelty. He had seen the 
Advisor destroy people with his tongue, he had seem ruler’s of other 
realms stuttering and paling when faced with the wrath of the sharply 
intelligent Noldo. The Chief Advisor always knew how to strike to hurt 
the most. This ferocity, this viciousness even, was a very rare character 
treat among Elves and Lindir always thought that Erestor’s verbal attacks 
were so accurate and powerful because no one ever suspected such cruelty 
from a member of Elven kind. 

“I…” Lindir tried to say something but his throat seemed to dry suddenly 
and his voice cracked, then faded completely.  The scribe swallowed 
again, moistening his lips nervously, all the time painfully aware of the 
being watched. He may not see the dark eyes of his lover, now hard and 
cold probably, watching him with intensity that made his skin tingle and 
his heart beat three times faster than normal, but he could feel it.

Part of his mind, the one that was still calm and sure that Erestor would 
not hurt him… too bad… sure that Erestor was what he really needed to 
know even the barest hint of happiness, was dismayed at the how quickly 
and easily h reacted to the cool Chief Advisor. 

“What is the matter, Scribe?” The name was delivered with barely 
contained snort. The sheep anger that could be detected in Erestor’s voice 
surprised Lindir. It was so not like Erestor to show so much emotions. 
“Cat got your tongue?”

Lindir flinched as if Erestor had hit him, but then regained control and 
took a shaking breath, holding it, trying to calm down. He was scared, 
more by any passing second, but some part of him knew that Erestor 
would not hurt him, not for real any way.

With conscious effort he lowered his eyes, trying to radiate quiet 
submission with his whole posture. Since words failed him, he tried his 
body language. It was Erestor who was a word warrior, he on the other 
side was too insecure and too shy to stand against his lover’s wrath 
verbally, but he was sure of his feelings, of his need. He was determined 
to do everything to repair that rift between them. 

He could almost taste the sudden change of atmosphere. Erestor was good 
with people, so good at observing others and reading their body language 
that it was becoming almost scary, and he instantly understood Lindir’s 
intention. 

“Well… isn’t this… fetching.” drawled the Noldo from darkness, his 
voice sharper than any sword, but this time Lindir did not flinch. He knew 
that with his actions he threatened Erestor’s position and power and he had 
to pay the price. Still the words, literally meaning nothing offensive, but 
containing such a range of scorn that it cut him right to the core. “What do 
you want?”

He licked his lips, still staring at some point on the thick carpet covering 
the floor and whispered, his voice shaking slightly, “Please…”

“Please what?” The question was sharp and dry, like a slap in the face. 
Erestor was going to force him to beg and although everything in him 
screamed against it, Lindir closed his eyes and answered past the lump in 
his throat.

“Take me back.”

There was a sharp silence in the room, so deep that Lindir was able to hear 
the soft crack of wood in the fireplace.

It wasn’t control that stopped him from flinching, only his shock. He 
managed only to see a sparkle of light as the crystal goblet flew across the 
room to shatter on the wall, inches above his shoulder. The scribe was so 
shocked by the violent action that he didn’t even blink when the crystal 
shattered into a thousand of tiny, gleaming shards, showering him and the 
floor, nor did he react to drops of wine that splashed on his left cheek. It 
wasn’t something he expected from the advisor and to tell the truth, he 
didn’t know how to deal with it.  He could just stand there, eyes wide open 
and heart beating madly, frozen in shock.

The next thing happened so fast that he had no chances of reacting in any 
way. In a flurry of movement when he crossed the room, appearing 
suddenly in front of Lindir, his face pale and black eyes burning with 
something fierce and terrifying. The Advisor grabbed him by his neck, 
quite the same as he did that fatal night weeks ago when everything went 
to hell between them, and propelled the scribe backwards till he hit the 
wall with a solid thump. 

“What am I to you Lindir?” the Noldo hissed in his face, the white teeth 
flashing in the darkness of the room “A plaything?”

Unwillingly Lindir started to shiver, surprised, terrified and strangely 
aroused by this side of his lover. He did not answer.

Erestor blinked and his eyes lost all of their fierce expression, becoming 
hard and distant in a matter of seconds. It was disconcerting how fast the 
Advisor could go from hot to cold, seemingly without any trouble. 

“Foolish Lindir…” crooned Erestor with false affection in his voice, 
hurting as much as if he had been calling Lindir names “Playing with me 
is a hazardous thing.” He forced Lindir’s chin up, making him look into 
his eyes and then said, very slowly and very carefully “You have to be 
careful Lindir… because you may not live to tell…”


With that the dark haired Elf leaned down, and in one long lick, gathered 
the drops of spilled wine from the scribe’s chin.

Lindir whimpered feeling the hot, slick tongue touch him. With Erestor so 
close he could easily smell the unique scent of his body. The black, thick 
hair now loose around Erestor’s shoulders fell forwards, skimming his 
face with their silky touch and Lindir’s nostrils were filled with the herbal 
scent of the shampoo the Chief Advisor used. 

In that moment, the reality of his longing hit him. The desire for Erestor’s 
body, for his closeness that he kept hidden for all those weeks was now 
uncovered and he whimpered in both pain and desire. There was no way 
he could leave without his lover. He would agree to anything to have 
Erestor take him back, because he would simply fade away and die 
without him. In the short time they had together, the dark haired Elf 
became everything to him.  

“Erestor…” he whispered breathless, hurt and scared that his lover may 
not want him back. The name was a prayer, a declaration. He wanted to 
tell Erestor he loved him so badly, wanted to shower his body with kisses 
and take his pain away. Lindir never hated anyone, never could even 
picture himself wielding a weapon, but now, if he was given half a chance, 
he would kill the woman that broke Erestor so many millennia ago, the 
woman that taught Erestor that there was no such thing as love.

But eh couldn’t. he couldn’t change the past, couldn’t take away the pasty, 
nor could he say the words that burned his lips and filled his heart and soul 
to the point of hurt. So he only whispered his lover name over and over 
again, and every time he opened his lips he imagined he told Erestor he 
loved him, but the words never left his mouth, and he knew now, they 
never would.  They would remain buried in his heart forever, but it was his 
pledge never to speak them again. 

When Erestor’s lips suddenly closed over his he melted into his rough 
embrace, giving himself to him without any barriers, his body reacting just 
like it had at the beginning. 

Erestor kissed him hard and deep, tasting and conquering every inch of his 
mouth, barely letting him breath and Lindir could only whimper his 
consent. He loved it when Erestor’s arms surrounded his waist, the strong, 
deceiving subtle looking hands squeezing him hard, almost painfully and 
pulling him up. He was a bit surprised at the ease with which he responded 
to his lover, as if the weeks of separation had never happened, as if all 
those hurting words were never spoken. But they had been, and even now 
Lindir could feel the effect. Erestor, although harsh and seemingly without 
control, was however keeping distance from Lindir. The scribe had no 
doubts that the Chief Advisor could stop any time. It was something in his 
carefully reined fury that told him that Erestor had just only started…

The kiss lasted, becoming more overpowering by any second. The lack of 
air and the intensity of the hard body pinning him to the wall was driving 
him senseless and he rocked into the body of his lover, his hands raked 
over the bare, surprisingly muscular shoulders feeling scars under his 
fingertips that were almost invisible on his skin. So many scars, so much 
pain and such potential to hurt in this Elf, and still he was what Lindir 
needed more than his life.

Erestor entwined his fingers into Lindir’s long, silver hair and pulled hard, 
forcing the scribe to arch his neck at uncomfortable angle, but he didn’t 
really hurt him either. 

Lindir looked into the dark eyes and could swear he saw something in 
them a flicker of something warmer than this cold, controlled fury but it 
was gone as fast as it appeared. 

The Noldo lowered his head to the exposed neck and pressed his lips to 
the delicate, sweet smelling skin there sucking fiercely and then biting 
hard, just a hairsbreadth from cutting the skin, making sure to leave a 
mark that would last days. 

Lindir was shocked at the wave of desire that surged though him, making 
his go weak in the knees and grabbing Erestor for support. 

“You want to come back?” Whispered Erestor, his voice controlled with 
only barest hint of desire in it, made Lindir shiver violently, still captured 
off balance, with his head arched way back and his throat exposed in 
undeniable submission. Erestor may have held him by the hair, but it 
wasn’t as if Lindir fought his grip. The scribe wished Erestor would take 
him now, like that, without control, pinning him to the wall. It would show 
his real emotions.

Suddenly Erestor let go of him, nearly making him stumble. It convinced 
Lindir that Erestor was not going to let him take the easy way out.  Feeling 
a sharp pain in his heart, Lindir watched as his lover schooled his 
expression to a mask of indifference and walked back towards the 
fireplace. Slowly, with perfect control, Erestor poured himself another 
goblet of wine, ignoring the remnants of the shattered goblet on the floor 
and the bewildered and shaking Elf by the wall completely. 

As if nothing happened, the Noldo raised the goblet to his lips and took a 
swallow, standing in front of the fireplace. Lindir swallowed watching all 
that pale skin glowing softly in the golden light of fire giving Erestor the 
impression warmth that could rarely be seen in the Advisor. He was so 
incredibly beautiful. His dark hair fell in a thick mane down his bare back, 
only highlighting the wonderfully built shoulders and surprisingly broad 
chest. 

Erestor turned, still ignoring Lindir and sat down in a solitary chair in 
front of the fireplace. He did not look at Lindir, his eyes fixed on the fire 
when he spoke again. 

“Strip.” the order was short, clear and sharp. It was like a scratch on his 
heart, which Lindir could only add to the lot of other cuts already there 
and ignore them for a moment. 

Coming here he knew this night would not be for his pleasure, probably 
not Erestor’s also because he did not seem pleased with Lindir’s pain as 
well. The scribe felt tears burn in his eyes at the thought of all the pain 
they were causing themselves tonight. But it was needed. Erestor needed 
to see that Lindir learned his place, that he would never again demand 
anything from Erestor. 

Quickly and efficiently, he stripped from all of his clothes, painfully aware 
of the fact that the Chief Advisor was not watching him. Such a small fact, 
but by Gods, it hurt incredibly. He folded his tunic and white leggings 
neatly on the chair and stepped tentatively towards his lover. He felt 
incredibly exposed now, when he was standing naked in the middle of the 
room. 

“Turn the lamps off.” came the cold command from the elf sitting on the 
chair, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his lover was standing naked 
just a few steps from him. 

Painfully aware of his nakedness and feeling Erestor’s distance like a slap 
to his face, Lindir complied, trying desperately to keep his emotions in 
check. He knew, he should accept that there would never be any form of 
equality in their relationship. Not when he had consciously broken his own 
ultimatum and came to beg Erestor to take him back.

Swallowing the bitterness in his mouth and trying to reassure himself that 
after some time Erestor would finally come back to himself and again treat 
him like he used to. 

Lindir was aware of the fact that he had exaggerated. Erestor may not 
acknowledge their relationship on the outside, but he did treat him with a 
lot of affection, feeding him sweet fruits in bed and slipping ‘instruction’ 
between the letters he was supposed to rewrite. Lindir knew that Erestor 
sent him those… less than appropriate notes because he liked to watch him 
blush furiously in a public place. 

Realizing he’d been staring off into the space for quite some time, Lindir 
shook himself out of those painful thoughts and moved swiftly though the 
room, extinguishing all of the oil lamps, leaving the room awash in velvet 
darkness, the only source of light left was the fireplace burning with 
golden fire.

Lindir turned to look at the perfect features of the Noldo Elf sitting in a 
chair opposite the fire. The golden glow did nothing to soften his set face 
or the cold and distant, black eyes that were now focused on something 
deep in the fire, leaving no sign that Erestor was at least aware of Lindir. 

“Come here.” Another command, delivered in an equally hard, cold voice 
as the previous one caused Lindir to swallow and tentatively move 
forward. 

His steps were short and quiet, his eyes still trained on the naked torso of 
his lover. The muscles, long and lean, belonged to a warrior, a fighter that 
existed under the official robes. Belonged to the man Legolas told him. 
Assassin. And now, looking at the barely visible web of thin scars left by 
something that had to be a terrible wound, not to be healed by elven 
healing, Lindir only started to realize just how dangerous that Elf could be. 
Yet, in all the times Erestor behaved with barely contained aggression he 
had never truly hurt Lindir. Never caused serious damage.

Feeling better suddenly, Lindir looked at Erestor’s face, trying to see 
something behind the mask of indifference.

Suddenly the Chief Advisor raised his head and looked him straight in the 
eyes, locking his hard gaze with Lindir’s unsure one. There was a flicker 
of something warmer in the black orbs, desire maybe, before it was hidden 
behind the cold anger. 

Without a word Erestor slowly spread his knees a little and shifted in the 
soft armchair. The movement highlighted the already prominent bulge in 
his leggings. The display was subtle and dominant in nature, but still it 
was incredibly erotic. Lindir understood Erestor perfectly, just like he had 
from the beginning and using every ounce of grace he possessed he slowly 
lowered himself to his knees in front of Erestor, right between his knees. 
Lindir kept his head bent and eyes focused on the floor, waiting for some 
kind of order from Erestor, for a spoken command, his posture only 
radiating submission.

He was rewarded by a barely detectable rise in Erestor’s breathing pattern. 
If his senses weren’t trained on the Chief Advisor so completely, he would 
have missed it absolutely. 

Then he felt the strong, elegant hand twining in his long, silver hair, 
pulling them gently but with enough force to let Lindir know who was in 
charge here.

“Please me Lindir,” The voice was still cold, but not as distant as before, 
this time there was something insistent and very, very dark in it.

Without a word he reached for the fastenings of the black leggings and 
undid them with ease, becoming more anxious and aroused by any passing 
moment. 

Right now, kneeling in front of Erestor, naked, with the warmth of fire 
gently licking his back and exposed buttocks, assaulted by the pure scent 
of his lover, he felt something hot gather in his belly, lighting a fire in his 
veins and in his shaft, hardening it in a silent tribute to the power Erestor 
held over him.

Lindir moved his trembling fingers gently, easing the soft cloth from the 
swollen erection of his lover, freeing the shaft. He couldn’t stop himself 
from licking his lips when he watched the flushed cock head emerge from 
between the fold of material and decided not to wait any longer and leaned 
closer to lick the slightly salty skin. When he was not stopped he leaned 
again and let the flat of his tongue run up the whole length of his lover’s 
cock, marveling at the scent and taste, refreshing in his memory that 
incredible sensation of the soft skin encasing steel length. 

The hand in his hair eased a little, but did not let go. The Noldo massaged 
his scalp in a manner that was almost gentle yet still was only highlighting 
his domination of the scribe. Lindir felt himself grow impossibly hard at 
the control Erestor could establish in such an easy way. It was something 
that aroused him and finally, after those few, precious weeks with Erestor, 
he learned to enjoy it, not feel ashamed of his needs.

Feeling a light push down, Lindir complied with a small whimper of 
arousal when his face was pushed down into the path of coarse, black hair. 
He felt the erection, still wet from his saliva, brush over his cheek, filling 
his nostril with Erestor’s unmistakable scent and then his mouth opened 
from its own accord and tongue flicked over the balls encased in a soft 
sac, covered with black, short hair. 

The advisor remained quiet, his breathing almost even as Lindir licked 
first right the left testicle and then the left, only the flesh touching his 
cheek tightened that little bit more showing Lindir that Erestor did react to 
him, even if he refused to show it.

Not hesitating any more Lindir shifted on his knees and sucked the hard 
ball into his mouth, enveloping it in the moist heat, sucking strongly and 
flicking it with his tongue simultaneously. 

He felt Erestor shiver suddenly and then the hand in his air tightened and 
pulled him up. Before he had the time to blink, he was showed to the floor, 
landing on his back in front of the fireplace on the thick carpet.

When he opened his eyes he saw Erestor over him, gathering his wrists 
and tying them together with a long, black scarf. 

“You are not allowed to talk tonight and you are not allowed to make a 
single sound Lindir. Do I make myself clear?” His eyes were dark and so 
dangerous in the fire lit room right now, burning into the white haired 
scribe with painful intensity.

Swallowing thickly, not liking the dark shadows in his lover’s voice, 
Lindir nodded, his wide, pale blue eyes fixed on the dark and beautiful 
face of his lover.

“Good.”

The reply was accompanied by two fingers thrust into his passage right 
away. Lindir arched, opening his lips to scream but not a sound came 
though. He wanted to scream, to express the intense feeling of burning 
pain turning into pleasure, to ease the tension that was building inside him 
for such a long time but Erestor gave him an order and he was going to 
listen to it, no matter how hard it was. 

He watched as Erestor’s eyes narrowed when he realized that Lindir had 
prepared himself earlier, his two fingers were now sliding easily in and out 
of the tight passage, on the slickness he found there. 

Just a little too soon, just a little too hard, Erestor pressed a third finger 
inside Lindir, causing the pale body to arch even more off the floor. 

Lindir positively shook with the strength of sensation assaulting him. The 
fingers inside him stretched his anus a little too forcefully, forcing the 
tender walls to accommodate them, but each thrust of those long fingers 
capable of brings pleasure as well as pain was also hitting his prostate, 
sending jolt after jolt of pleasure through him. 

He arched and twisted, thrashing around, wanting the fingers deeper and 
despising them at the same time because they were not the real thing, they 
were not what he wanted to be filling him. 

Letting go of his control, he spread his legs a little more to get more 
leverage and thrust his hips into each forceful, almost cruel jab of those 
incredible fingers, biting his lip ‘till it bled in order to stifle the cries of 
pleasure and pain that threatened to escape him. 

Suddenly the fingers were removed. His mind foggy, Lindir opened his 
eyes to look at Erestor and swallowed at the sight of the dark fire in the 
black eyes of his lover.

Erestor leaned over him, grabbed his bound wrists and pushed them above 
Lindir’s head, tying the scarf to the table leg, leaving the silver haired elf 
stretched on the floor, naked, helpless and aroused, on his mercy. 

“You are not to come when I take you. Do you understand?”

Almost sobbing from frustration Lindir nodded, just this side from 
begging Erestor to let him come with him. He had no release in weeks and 
now, having it all done to him and being denied the ultimate release, he 
almost sobbed. 

Then, without any warning, with almost cruel force Erestor entered him on 
one powerful move, setting the whole length of his shaft inside him in one 
thrust. Lindir bit his lip so hard he tasted the coppery tang of his own 
blood. 

It hurt, it hurt to have something as big as that shoved so deep in just one 
move. His anus burned from the stretch and he clenched it, feeling the 
hard intruder inside that seemed to reach so deep inside him.

Erestor’s shaft was long and hard and almost too bog for him to take like 
that. He panted harshly, trying to get over the sudden pain, cased by the 
hard cock forcing his inner channel to stretch painfully to accommodate it. 

But under all the shock of the sudden entry, under the pain of too much 
stretch, there was also the burning pleasure of being filled again, of having 
Erestor inside him, as close as two being could possibly get. The cock 
inside him was hard steel encased in soft, hot skin and when Erestor pulled 
out almost completely only to push back with the same insistent strength- 
burying himself balls deep again, all Lindir could do to stop himself from 
coming was held the table leg with all his strength and bit his tongue to 
stop any sound escaping him. 

Gods! It was the worst torture ever. Erestor started a slow, deep and 
forceful pounding motion, hitting his prostate every single time, sending 
shocks of pain and pleasure through him. It was almost impossible to stop 
himself from making any sounds and stop from coming! Oh, how much 
easier it was when he was bound, his erection encased in unyielding 
leather rings that could stop his orgasm. Now every time the shaft inside 
him moved, stretching him over and over again, filling ‘till he thought he 
would burst, he had to use almost all his strength to stop his own release. 
Somehow he knew that Erestor would not let him come- not now, nor any 
time soon. 

When he felt his lover’s thrust’s become sharp and shallow, erratic he 
almost felt relief that this torture would be soon over and maybe then the 
Noldo would let him come. Although eh expected it, the sudden tensing of 
the Elf above him was still a shock, and when hot shots of come hit his 
abused passage he nearly whimpered, cutting the sound off with desperate 
effort.

Erestor did not linger. As soon as his tremors subsides he withdrew from 
Lindir, stepping back and standing up, looking down at Lindir’s quivering, 
flushed body. 

The scribe flushed even more thinking how he must look to Erestor right 
now, his legs were splayed wide, his body covered in a fine sheen of 
sweat, his arms tied with black, silk scarf above his head to a heavy table 
leg and his own shaft was lying almost flat on his belly, hot and engorged, 
never been touched once the whole evening. What was more he could 
already feel his lover’s essence slowly seeping out of him leaving a trail of 
moisture in its wake. His anus pulsed and his channel felt raw, but the 
unfulfilled state he was in, only made it feel more arousing to him.

The silver haired Elf closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them 
suddenly, when he felt his wrists being released. He looked into Erestor’s 
face as the Elf pulled him to his shaky legs but could read nothing from 
the distant expression, the mask the Advisor wore.

He flushed scarlet feeling the trail of semen running down his thigh, the 
evidence of what had just happened and his own shaft swelled just that 
little bit more, becoming now almost painful.

He missed Erestor’s voice. Before, his lover always talked to him, giving 
commands or soothing him, grounding and guiding him. Now in the eerie 
silence of the room the lack of the familiar voice left him unsettled and 
lost. 

“Don’t move.”

Lindir shivered at the cool command and only nodded, painfully aware of 
the fact that he was still not allowed to talk. With all his strength, he 
forced himself to look down, not to follow Erestor with his eyes. He both 
wanted and did not want to know what Erestor was doing. He was afraid 
of what would Erestor think of to punish him. Somehow he was sure it 
was not going to be physical, not pain for sure.  It was both reassuring and 
terrifying, because physical pain was something he craved, something he 
knew how to deal with… but this distance, this… coldness was driving 
him insane and it hurt him deeply, which of course, Erestor was definitely 
aware of. 

Finally the black haired, dangerous and oh so beautiful Elf came back to 
him. Erestor stopped in front of him and waited for Lindir to raise his 
head. 
 
When Lindir looked at him he thought he saw something warm, fleeting in 
the dark orbs, but it was soon hidden under the mask of indifference Lindir 
so hated to see directed at him. 

Then he looked down, at what Erestor was holding and had to swallow.

Nipple clamps.

Small, mithril, and shining were something he loved and hated with a 
vengeance. Because the exquisite mix of pleasure and burning pain caused 
him to climax almost instantly after they were put on him, that was the 
reason he loved them, but they became torture when he was denied the 
release, just like now. 

Erestor took a long, hard look at the shivering Elf in front of him, the 
wide, blue eyes fixed on the mithril clamps and said very quietly, almost 
gently.

“You still can not talk, but you don’t need to be quiet any more”

Lindir let out a long sigh and his whole posture shagged with relief. But it 
lasted only so long, then Erestor touched the exposed chest and trailed his 
slightly callused hand over the hard numbs of nipples on the silver haired 
Elf’s chest.

The touch was cool, almost impersonal when the advisor stroked Lindir’s 
nipples to full hardness and then quickly and efficiently putting the clamps 
tight enough to sting with every move.

The scribe whimpered, closing his eyes against the sensation but was 
pulled back to reality by a tug on the thin chain connecting the clamps. 
When he opened his eyes he met Erestor’s cool ones.

“Follow me.”

Swallowing thickly, completely thrown off balance by the mix of arousal 
and apprehension he felt, Lindir nodded and shakily followed his dark 
haired lover to the bathroom.

He watched the play of muscles in that strong back and the way the mass 
of black hair swung gently from side to side as he walked- lightly and 
gracefully, his power seen in every step he took. 

He longed to reach out and touch Erestor, to stroke the scars till Erestor 
forget about them. He wanted to give him please, to soothe that never 
resting spirit but was painfully aware of the fact he was not allowed to do 
it anymore. 

Confused he let himself be led into the bathroom and then seated on the 
edge of the sunken tub, wincing a little at the soreness of his anus when he 
did so. Lindir watched, still not understanding as Erestor gathered some 
items around the room, adding some herbal, sweet smelling oils to the 
warm water, filling the air with spicy scent. 

Calmly, with purposeful movements Erestor descended into the water and 
took a bar of soap. Quickly and efficiently he soaped his body and then 
washed the soap away, letting Lindir watch him, but not acknowledging 
him in any other way. 

The scribe felt his throat go dry at the sight of his lover’s wet body, all the 
muscles gleaming in the soft light of the oil lamps, his pale, ivory skin just 
begging to be touched and kissed and licked… Lindir had to clench his 
fingers on the edge of the tub to stop himself from reaching out, only a 
small whimper left his lips. 

Hearing him, Erestor finished his ablutions and waded through the water 
towards Lindir. He pushed the younger Elf’s knees apart and moved to 
stand between his legs.

Confused, Lindir could only watch as his lover soaped a soft washcloth 
generously and then pressed it into his groin. The scribe moaned at the 
sensation of that slick, soft, warm cloth sliding up and down his erection, 
teasing it and coating it in a layer of soap. He had no idea what was 
Erestor planning to do, but his ministrations at his groin were extremely 
pleasurable and all he could do was whimper and moan continuously.

After what seemed an eternity of the sweet torment, Erestor let the 
washcloth fell back into the warm, scented water and gave the chain 
linking the nipple clamps a sharp tug, causing Lindir to scream and arch 
his back, trying to offer more of his chest to Erestor while the exquisite 
pleasure/pain rushed through his body, almost making his vision gray and 
his shaft pulsed painfully, hot and engorged, demanding and neglected 
again.

The strain of stopping himself from coming was beginning to show and he 
was starting to shiver a little, feeling lightheaded and aroused to near 
painful sensitivity. It seemed that his whole body was on fire, his skin 
incredibly sensitive, very touch send goose bumps all over his body.

When he opened his eyes again, Lindir gasped in half fear half arousal. 

Erestor was calmly taking out an ivory handed shaving blade from a small, 
black, wooden case.  It wasn’t a tool Elves used, but it was common 
among Human’s that wished to get rid of facial hair. But what for needed 
it Erestor?

And then it hit him. He whimpered, this side from begging what for he 
didn’t know when he realized that Erestor was going to shave him.

Lindir looked down at his well soaped groin and the soft, silver hair 
around his shaft and couldn’t stop a tremor at the thought of letting Erestor 
do something as incredibly intimate as that. 

Looking him in the eye, his eyes not so cold but still unfamiliar, the Chief 
Advisor touched the razor to his abdomen and removed the first patch of 
hair from Lindir’s groin.

The scribe couldn’t stop the soft scream that left his lips at the sensation. 
The blade was cool, and scraped a little at the contact, but it was the light 
stinging at the oversensitive skin after it passed that send shocks of 
pleasure up Lindir’s body.

Heaving and trembling violently, Lindir leaned back, spreading his legs a 
little bit more, doing all he could to keep his body still as the blade 
scrapped along his groin, sometimes touching his shaft with its coolness, 
then going lower, touching and shaving his testicles. He wasn’t even 
aware of the constant, low while that was leaving his lips, he was so out of 
his mind with arousal. His shaft pulsed painfully and the nipple clamps 
send shocks of pleasure through him every time he breathed too deeply.

“Turn around.”

Somehow awkwardly and shakily, Lindir turned around, hissing as the 
cold tiles touched his over sensitive erection, quivering with the strain of 
keeping half his body upwards, while leaning on the edge of the bath tub, 
his legs in the warm water up to his thighs.

He whimpered again, feeling Erestor spread some more soap on his 
perineum and even between his cheeks. The idea that Erestor was going to 
remove even the few hairs that were there drove him mad, and he ground 
his hip into the cold tiles forcefully, nearly sobbing with need to come. 
The move forced the chain connecting his nipple clamps to swing and pull 
at his abused nipples sending sharp sparks of pain down his chest. 

He could not stand it any longer and he screamed when Erestor parted his 
cheeks and the cold blade touched the sensitive, vulnerable skin there. 

Lindir wasn’t even aware of the loud sobs that wracked his body or that he 
was begging half coherently, so far gone that he had completely lost 
control over himself. Yet the need for his lover to touch him, to forgive 
him was so strong that he kept begging Erestor, crying and sobbing, his 
breath coming in harsh gasps and his body trebled violently.

His brain barely registered the clatter of the blade being tossed aside and 
then strong hands pulled him into the water, turning him around and 
pulling him against strong, broad chest.

“Shh lirimaer, shh…”

He couldn’t respond to the surprisingly gentle words because he was lifted 
up and he felt the hard shaft of his lover piercing him again, without any 
waning and with much more urgency than before. He closed his legs over 
Erestor’s hips, still sobbing half coherently, and shouted at the first thrust 
into his channel, stretching the abused insides again and again, driving 
him completely out of his mind.

“Come, come for me nin bain.”

The command finally penetrated his half hysterical mind and he shuddered 
when a powerful release took over him, clenching his muscles around the 
shaft impaling him and then the world faded into darkness, never seeing 
the hand that stroked the wet hair from his forehead with aching 
tenderness ,nor hearing the soft words of reassurance murmured to him 
while Erestor carefully washed his body and dried it, then carried him to 
the bedroom. Nor did he hear the quiet, soft words of apology murmured 
to him by his dark haired lover. 

The end of part 11

nín bain - my beauty
Lirimaer – lovely, or beautiful one