‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna  
~Part 14~ 
 
Thranduil worriedly watched his son out of the corner of 
his eye at dinner that night. Legolas didn’t seem to be 
eating much, but he did eat, so the king wasn’t overly 
fearful that his son would relapse and begin fading just 
yet. The twins both seemed to be oddly subdued, and 
flashing Legolas fleeting glances, as if also concerned 
about the prince’s silence. 
 
Of course, the solemn mood couldn’t last long with 
Glorfindel at their company. The blond warrior had 
changed seats this night, and was now sitting next to 
Erestor. Legolas’ mood gradually improved, as he watched 
the blond lord blow infuriatingly into the dark-haired 
advisor’s ear, or sometimes even flick his peas – 
‘accidentally’ – onto Erestor’s plate. At one stage 
Glorfindel’s hand even slipped beneath the table, and a 
few moments later Erestor jerked in his chair and cried in 
outrage: 
 
“GLORFINDEL! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF OR SO 
HELP ME, I’LL…” The advisor trailed off, realising that he 
had just let everyone else at the table, know what was 
going on. The twins snorted, and even Legolas couldn’t 
help but laugh softly. Glorfindel only grinned triumphantly, 
and left the advisor in relative peace for the rest of the 
night, seemingly content that he had managed to win this 
outburst. Erestor looked absolutely humiliated. Legolas 
privately wondered if Elrond’s table couldn’t have one meal 
where someone didn’t cry out ‘Glorfindel!’. Perhaps the 
Balrog slayer had a certain reputation to upkeep, and 
found it a challenge to be his most annoying each evening. 
Legolas certainly hoped so. 
 
Elrond gave the blond warrior a hard stare which seemed 
to have little affect on said elf, cleared his throat, and then 
tried to talk pleasantly about the weather. After a while, 
when it seemed that Glorfindel had decided to be 
disappointingly well behaved for the rest of the meal, 
Elladan turned to his father and asked, “So, Ada? How go 
the negotiations?” 
 
Elrond shrugged, which Legolas thought a most un-Elrond 
like thing to do. “Well enough for the first day, I suppose, 
nin-iond.” 
 
Elladan flashed Thranduil an evil grin and then asked, “Has 
there been any unpleasant name-calling yet?” 
 
Glorfindel decided to rejoin the conversation then, sighing 
dramatically. “Alas, no, good Elladan. In fact, I am quite 
disappointed with Erestor and Istidhren here. They have 
both been surprisingly civil towards one another the whole 
day. It was barely more than I could bear!” 
 
The twins laughed and Elrond glowered, but held his 
tongue. Legolas wondered why the Lord of Imladris didn’t 
simply ban the warrior from coming to dinner if he was 
always so poorly behaved. On second thought, the prince 
decided, that probably wouldn’t have much of an affect on 
Glorfindel. 
 
Thranduil cleared his throat, and said to Elrond, “I, for one, 
am glad that you and Erestor have been most polite. It 
does make a change, and bodes well for the future of our 
two realms.” 
 
Elrond smiled gratefully at the king. “Thank you, Lord 
Thranduil. See,” he added, looking pointedly at Glorfindel. 
“Even our neighbours know more about being polite than 
you do!” 
 
Glorfindel raised his arms helplessly and shrugged. “If that 
be the case, than I need not be polite to set an example, 
do I, my Lord?” and he fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. 
 
The twins and Legolas laughed uproariously at this. Even 
Thranduil, Erestor and Itsidhren had to hide grins behind 
their hands. Elrond appeared less than amused, though if 
you had looked closely, you may have seen the mirth that 
danced within his eyes. 
 
“On that note,” Elrond decreed, “I think we had better call 
it a night before *that* big-headed oaf at the end of the 
table gets the notion to repeat last night’s story-telling 
fiasco.” 
 
“Oh no,” Glorfindel assured them most heartily. “I do not 
feel like telling stories tonight. I have other plans with 
which to occupy my mouth for this evening,” and with a 
grin, his hand slipped beneath the table once more, 
resulting in Erestor squealing a moment later in a most 
undignified manner. Then the advisor blushed furiously 
and stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table, 
looking ready to spit fire. 
 
“If you *think* for one minute that you’re sleeping in the 
same bed as *me* tonight, after the way you have 
behaved, than I’m afraid you have *finally* lost what little 
sense you had!” With that, the dark-haired advisor 
stormed off in a great flurry of black, swirling robes and 
night-dark hair. 
 
For once, Glorfindel didn’t have a witty reply to that. 
 
“Guess we know what can take the wind out of his sails,” 
Elladan said to his twin, and the rest of the table laughed 
at the pitiful Golden Lord who sat looking rather deflated, 
watching with longing eyes as his love vacated the room. 
 
“What are you two up to now?” Elrond asked his sons, as 
he signalled for a servant to clear the table away. 
 
“Elladan and I have planned a small party with some 
friends, Ada,” Elrohir said. As if an afterthought struck 
him, he suddenly looked at Legolas. “Would you like to join 
us, Master Legolas?” 
 
Legolas was about to refuse politely when Thranduil said, 
“That sounds like a fine idea. Legolas, you haven’t had 
much time to yourself lately. Why don’t you join the twins 
and have some fun?” 
 
Legolas knew his father was only trying to do the best 
thing by him, but he would have given anything for his 
father to have *shut up* at that precise moment. Now left 
with little choice, Legolas nodded resignedly. “It would be 
my pleasure,” he said, hoping that it actually sounded as 
though it would be. “I am tired, however, and will not stay 
long.” 
 
Elladan and Elrohir grinned, both pleased. “Excellent!” 
Elladan declared, clapping his hands together. “It will be 
fun to introduce you to some of the other elves here who 
have not met you yet. I want to be able to show them the 
elf who can shoot as well as the best of our warriors!” He 
turned to his father and said, “Ada, did you know that 
Mirkwood elves could shoot so well? Legolas here is an 
utter demon with the bow!” 
 
Elrond smiled pleasantly, and Legolas could feel his father 
looking at him with a proud, paternal smile on his lips. 
Unable to suffer all this attention much longer, and 
wanting to get this party over and done with, Legolas rose. 
“Shall we go?” he asked the twins. 
 
The brothers looked slightly surprised, but then quickly 
scrambled out of their chairs, and escorted Legolas out. 
The young prince sighed, hoping this party wouldn’t be too 
wild, and praying that Elladan and Elrohir kept their hands 
to themselves as much as possible. Remembering Elrohir’s 
kiss earlier, Legolas felt a nervous flutter in his stomach, 
but quickly quelled it. He would only stay an hour, and 
then leave, feigning exhaustion. Nothing bad could happen 
in one hour… could it? 
 
~*~*~*~*~ 
 
An outburst of wild, uproarious laughter filled the room. 
 
“And then,” Elladan continued, standing in the middle of 
the party with his hands flung out, “Erestor stormed out 
looking like a Balrog himself, only *this* was one demon 
Glorfindel wasn’t willing to battle!” 
 
The elves all laughed again, thoroughly enjoying Elladan’s 
recount of the events that had happened at dinner only a 
little while ago. They cheered and raised various glasses 
and bottles of drink as Elrohir declared, “To Erestor! May 
he forever teach the Golden Lord where to keep his 
‘sword’!” 
 
“To Erestor!” 
 
Legolas allowed himself a smile, and sat back as he 
watched the riotous youth of Imladris drink to the dark-
haired advisor. He couldn’t help thinking that Erestor 
would somehow be more offended than flattered by all 
this. Glorfindel, on the other hand, would probably laugh 
heartily, despite being at the butt of the joke himself. 
 
Lindir, a young blond elf, began playing his lyre and 
singing a merry tune. The other elves began singing along 
and dancing, or simply sitting back, laughing, talking and 
drinking. Although Legolas had relatively excluded himself 
from the crowd, he was still surprised to find himself 
enjoying the whole atmosphere of the party. A few elves 
*were* looking at him with dark, predatory eyes, 
especially one handsome, dark-haired elf, but he tried to 
ignore them. While he was forced to be here, he was 
determined to have a good time. He sat back and listened 
to the minstrel’s beautiful voice, half closing his eyes. 
 
“Hello,” a voice said, and Legolas looked up, startled to see 
the handsome dark-haired elf, who had been staring, now 
standing over him. “You’re the Sindar, aren’t you? 
Legolas?” 
 
“Yes,” Legolas said, and for a moment he was afraid this 
elf might be one of the few Noldorin youths who hated 
those of Mirkwood. Then the elf sat down beside him, and 
gave him a friendly, exuberant smile. 
 
“Nice to meet you, Legolas,” he said holding out his hand. 
Legolas shook it, grateful he had been mistaken about the 
elf’s character. “I’m Corupen. I saw you shoot today. I’ve 
been wanting to talk to you ever since. You have a fine 
arm. Do you practice often?” 
 
Legolas shrugged, sitting up properly so that he could 
converse better with his new friend. “I’ve always liked 
archery. It’s virtually my only hobby, so I spend a lot of 
time with my bow.” 
 
Corupen nodded, and grinned. “I’m training to be a 
warrior. I’ve never handled a bow particularly well, but the 
soldier who trains me says I have a good sword arm. Do 
you spar?” 
 
Legolas shook his head. “No. My brothers have taught me 
a bit of knife work, but I haven’t really trained much in 
sword fighting yet.” 
 
Corupen seemed slightly surprised at this, perhaps for the 
first time realising how young the prince was. 
 
Lindir’s song ended, and after a polite applause, 
announced that he would sing a hearty ballad composed 
by Glorfindel himself. Legolas listened with great 
anticipation, and didn’t know whether to be horrified or 
amused when he heard the coarse song lyrics describing in 
no uncertain detail what a sheep-herder got up to with his 
flock. Apparently this herder was *very* fond of his sheep. 
In the end, Legolas couldn’t help but laugh, trying to 
imagine how Elrond might have reacted when first hearing 
Glorfindel sing this song. For a while, Corupen and he just 
sat and listened, grinning at the lyrics. 
 
“Would you like a drink?” Corupen asked, holding up a 
bottle he held in his hand. 
 
“What is it?” Legolas asked uncertainly. “I’m not use to 
anything strong.” 
 
“No, this is fine,” Corupen assured him. “I’m not into 
drinking anything heavy either. It’s mainly a fruit drink. 
Try it.” 
 
Legolas received the bottle and took a swallow. The drink 
was very pleasant – delicious even – with a slight sharp 
tang he couldn’t quite define. There was also something 
familiar about it… 
 
“What do you think?” Corupen asked loudly, trying to be 
heard over the ruckus of the party, which grew louder by 
the minute. 
 
“It’s very pleasant,” Legolas replied. “But it tastes a lot like 
miruvor.” 
 
Corupen grinned. “That’s because it’s made from the same 
fruit, but it’s not nearly as potent as pure miruvor. Why 
don’t you keep that? I’m in the mood for some wine 
anyway.” 
 
“Thanks,” Legolas said, as he watched the elf move off to 
grab himself a glass of wine. 
 
The night wore on with more song and laughter and 
drinking. Corupen did most of the talking, while Legolas 
absently sipped at his bottle. The prince was relieved that 
the twins seemed to have forgotten all about him. He felt 
exceptionally light headed and a bit giddy, and wondered if 
the fruit drink wasn’t more potent than what Corupen was 
claiming. He was also starting to feel a bit hot. Had 
someone lit a fire in the room? 
 
“Do you have a friend, back home?” Corupen asked 
suddenly, still having to raise his voice to be heard over 
the music and laughter. 
 
Legolas frowned. “A friend?” he asked, slightly confused. 
Of course he had friends, but he somehow had the feeling 
that Corupen was angling at something different. 
 
“Yes,” Corupen said, a naughty smile touching his lips. 
“You know, is there anyone special? A lover?” 
 
Legolas blushed faintly, and was about to say ‘no’ when an 
image of his father came to his mind. This only made him 
redden further, and Corupen laughed, delighted. 
 
“Not exactly,” Legolas stammered, suddenly feeling 
uncomfortable and unbearably hot, which was exceedingly 
odd for an elf. When did it get so stuffy in here? He could 
feel a few beads of sweat start to run down his forehead 
and neck. 
 
“Really?” Corupen said, and the prince sensed the elf was 
rather pleased by his answer. “I’m surprised a pretty thing 
like you doesn’t have a long trail of suitors.” 
 
Legolas blushed again, and turned his head away. “Can 
you see the twins?” he asked, ignoring Corupen’s flattery. 
“I think I should probably head back to my rooms.” 
 
Corupen looked slightly hurt. “No, wait. Why don’t you 
stay a while longer? None of my friends are here tonight, 
and you’ve been such good company...” The dark-haired 
elf reached out a hand and put it on the prince’s arm, 
begging him to stay. 
 
Legolas looked at the hand, and then into the elf’s dark, 
pleading eyes. He was torn, sensing he should probably 
leave now, but also feeling guilty if he did so. He searched 
the room. He couldn’t see Elrohir anywhere, and Elladan 
appeared to be telling another story to a private group of 
friends. The twin would not be pleased if he was 
interrupted. 
 
Legolas sighed. “Okay, I’ll stay a little longer.” 
 
“Thank you,” Corupen said, and gave him a charming 
smile. 
 
There was an awkward silence between them now, and 
Legolas sipped from his bottle to hide his nervousness. In 
the end, Corupen asked him about his family, and Legolas, 
glad to talk about something, told the lovely stranger 
about Mirkwood. 
 
The noise in the room grew louder, and Legolas realised 
after a while that he was having to gasp occasionally for 
air. It was so HOT… 
 
Corupen shouted a question to him, and he indicated that 
he couldn’t hear over the noise. The dark-haired elf 
frowned, then grinned. He curled his finger, begging 
Legolas to come closer. The prince felt his heart beat 
faster when Corupen put his lips right next to his ear. 
 
“I said, you’re looking a little flushed. Do you want to 
leave?” 
 
Legolas couldn’t stop a shiver run down his spin as the 
elder elf’s warm breath caressed his ear and cheek. He felt 
confused, the room seemed fuzzy and his giddiness had 
increased tenfold. 
 
“I… where?” he asked, talking back against the elf’s cheek. 
 
“Are you afraid, little prince? I wont hurt you. You’re far 
too pretty for pain. I would only give you pleasure.” 
 
Legolas pulled back, startled, not sure he had heard 
correctly. Corupen looked at him with hungry, laughing 
eyes, grinning. Then he lent forward and captured Legolas’ 
lips with his own. 
 
Legolas’ eyes widened in shock, and he gasped in surprise. 
Corupen used this to his advantage, holding the boy’s head 
in place with his hands, while he pushed his hot, fiendish 
tongue inside Legolas’ mouth. 
 
Legolas tried crying out, but even if the other elf’s mouth 
did not smother it, he doubted that anyone would have 
heard his scream over the din of the room. He tried 
struggling, but Corupen was much stronger, and pushed 
him back against the wall, pining him there. The elf’s 
tongue delved about in his mouth, chasing the blonde’s. 
He starred into Legolas’ frightened eyes with his own; 
cruel triumphant mirth dancing back at him, dark with lust. 
 
Then suddenly Legolas was free. He gasped from the kiss, 
and saw that Elladan had wrenched Corupen off him onto 
the ground. Corupen snarled, then looked up and saw who 
had grabbed him. “My lord!” he said, startled. 
 
“How *dare* you manhandle one of my guests?” Elladan 
hissed coldly. Corupen looked terrified, and his eyes grew 
wider when Elrohir came and stood next to his twin, 
looking ready to kill. 
 
“If you are not gone from my sight by the time I finish this 
sentence, you will be severely sorry…” Elladan spat, and 
then proceeded to call Corupen a long list of very 
unpleasant names. The strange dark-haired elf got the 
message, and quickly scrambled off the floor and fled while 
Elladan still cursed him. A few other elves who watched 
Corupen leave slunk after the elf when they thought it 
safe. Legolas felt horribly abused upon seeing this, 
realising those elves to be Corupen’s friends. So the 
stranger had lied. He hadn’t been alone. He had just been 
trying to get into his pants the whole time. 
 
“Are you alright?” Elladan asked, raising his voice above 
the noise. Despite this small disturbance, the party still 
continued.  
 
Elladan helped Legolas to stand, and for a moment the 
room seemed to spin, but the prince gained his balance at 
the last moment. “I- I think so… I just wasn’t expecting… 
thank you…” 
 
Elladan nodded. Elrohir looked at the prince and asked, 
“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a bit… out of it.” 
 
Legolas frowned, and then held up the half empty-bottle in 
his hand. “He gave me this, and told me it wasn’t strong… 
but…” 
 
Elladan relieved the prince of the bottle, and took an 
experimental drink. His eyes widened slightly, and he 
exchanged a glance with Elrohir. Something seemed to 
pass between the twins, and then Elladan handed the 
bottle back to him. 
 
“No, it’s okay,” the twin said, a strange gleam in his eye. 
“It’s just spiced fruit juice. Perhaps you’re a little 
dehydrated? Elrohir and I need to sort something out, and 
then we’ll be back to take you home, okay?” 
 
Legolas nodded, and sat back down as the twins walked 
off. He was a little shaken by what had happened, but 
realised that it was mostly his fault. He should have known 
Corupen was only trying to use him from the way the elf 
had been starring at him earlier. He wished his father were 
here. Life was so less complicated when his Ada was 
watching out for him. 
 
Most of the crowd was singing now, and Legolas was 
suddenly overwhelmed again by how hot he felt. It was 
very, very hot. Stifling. He could barely breath because of 
the heat. How were all the other elves coping? Legolas 
considered what Elladan had said. Maybe he *was* 
dehydrated. Looking at the bottle in his hand, and deciding 
he had nothing better to do while waiting for the twins to 
return, he drank. 
 
Only ten minutes later, the heat became too much. He was 
actually panting, gasping, desperate for air. He wanted to 
wrench his clothing off, feeling as though it was suffocating 
him. He could feel runnels of sweat trickling down the side 
of his face, his back… 
 
Standing up on legs which suddenly seemed unsteady, 
Legolas made for the nearest window and threw it open, 
leaning the upper half of his body outside. 
 
Blissful, beautiful cool air hit his face, and he tried to 
breath in as much of it as possible. His mind seemed to be 
spinning in scared circles, twisting and stumbling over 
itself. He couldn’t think, could hardly breathe, and now he 
was shivering but he still felt ready to ignite. 
 
Someone touched him gently on the back and he jumped. 
The bottle in his hand fell and smashed on the paved 
ground bellow. He turned around, frightened, but only saw 
the twins standing behind him. 
 
One of them mouthed a word which looked a lot like 
‘Legolas’, but the prince couldn’t hear the words. A dull 
humming, combined with the irregular beat of his heart 
filled his ears, and everything else seemed very surreal. 
 
“Legolas? Legolas! Are you okay?” Elladan shouted, 
shaking the boy slightly, but Legolas only groaned, still 
panting for air. 
 
“We should get him out of here,” Elrohir said, and Elladan 
nodded. The twins pulled the prince back in from the 
window, and started walking him out. Then Legolas’ legs 
collapsed beneath him. 
 
“Here, I’ll carry him,” Elladan said, and picked the boy up 
in his arms. 
 
Legolas felt someone lift him off the ground, and a wave of 
nausea and dizziness overwhelmed him. He moaned again, 
and rested his head against his carrier’s chest, clinging to 
Elladan desperately. He heard words spoken, but couldn’t 
comprehend their meaning in his current state. 
 
“I don’t think you should have given him that bottle back,” 
Elrohir said to his brother. “He was clearly drunk enough.” 
 
“I just wanted to make sure, but you’re probably right, 
gwanur. I should have realised that Corupen could be very 
unsubtle about getting what he wanted. Stupid elf, I can’t 
believe he dared try make a move on *our* prince.” 
 
“Oh well, he wont dare go against us again. At least we 
have the blond now.” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
After a little while, Legolas felt himself being laid down. He 
groaned and tried to focus his eyes. Above he could see 
the stars, and he smelt damp soil and grass. Was he 
outside? Why hadn’t the twins taken him back to his 
rooms? The cool air, however, was making it easier for him 
to think more clearly, and that was a relief. 
 
“Are you alright, Legolas? Can you hear me now?” 
 
Legolas nodded his head and then groaned, feeling a 
swimming pain as he did so. If he didn’t know better, he 
would say that he had been drugged. 
 
“What… where…?” he tried to ask, but his mind still 
flittered about, and he didn’t even know what he wanted to 
say. 
 
“Shhh,” he heard Elladan croon as the older twin moved on 
top of him. “Are you still warm? You’re sweating. Let me 
help you take your top off.” 
 
Legolas felt gentle but nimble fingers undo his shirt, and 
then Elrohir helped manipulate him into a sitting position 
so that the cloth could be pulled off. The cool air kissed his 
burning skin. He leant against Elladan for support. Then 
there were hands touching him; his brow, his cheek, his 
neck, running down his back and chest, soothing, 
calming… 
 
One hand brushed over a nipple and he gasped. Someone 
laughed softly, darkly. Then soft lips brushed his own. 
Butterfly kisses, barely noticeable, like a dream. Hands 
moving and roaming, lips teasing, caressing. Soft words, 
barely spoken against his skin, weaving a web of magic 
about him, pulling him under. Down, down. 
 
A tongue, hot and wet, lapping at his lips. He whimpered, 
feeling trapped. Hands still slid across his skin. The tongue 
pushing in, slippery and sinful, rubbing against his own, 
massaging the roof of his mouth. Lips and teeth, chewing 
and gnawing. Another pair of lips, moving down his throat, 
his chest, sucking and lapping at a nipple. They were 
twins, double the pain, double the pleasure. 
 
Legolas tried to pull his head away, but the kiss held him. 
A prisoner. Caught between lips and hands and a fog in his 
mind that wouldn’t lift. 
 
“No…” he whispered, though he didn’t know why. 
 
“Yes…” they whispered back, heatedly, fervently. 
 
He was pushed back on the ground. Lips and tongue still 
pillaging his mouth. The other twin, lapping his bare flesh, 
moving down… 
 
A hand on his crotch. He gasped and whimpered, finding 
himself slightly hard. Finding himself becoming harder as 
hot fingers stroked him, pressed him, massaged his slowly 
pounding organ. 
 
“No,” he said again, a little louder, more forceful. Fearful. 
 
They paused, and intense grey eyes sought his gaze. 
“Why, Legolas? Why not? Do you have a lover? Is it that 
you do not find us pleasing? Please, trust us, little one. We 
will show you pleasure.” 
 
“No!” he sobbed, tears running down his cheeks, and he 
tried to scramble back from underneath them. Escaping 
their hypnotic eyes. 
 
“Damn you!” the elder one hissed, leapt forward and 
pinned him to the ground. Forced his hand down Legolas’ 
pants, and began stroking the prince’s aching length hard 
and fast, without gentleness or pity.  
 
Legolas cried bitterly. It was wrong, so wrong. His entire 
body screamed it. These were not the hands that were 
meant to touch him. These hands didn’t want to love, they 
wanted to take. It was wrong. They were wrong. The twins 
were wrong. 
 
They were not his father. 
 
“Oh gods, please!” Legolas sobbed, as he was brought 
between the brink of pleasure and the desperation to be 
freed from this horror. His flesh wanting, his mind and 
heart screaming, terrified. 
 
“Gwanur…” the younger twin spoke softly. A warning. 
 
Elladan stopped stroking, and suddenly slumped forward. 
Defeated. “I know,” he croaked. 
 
He pulled his hand back. Gently kissed the prince on the 
forehead. “Forgive me, dilthen-pen. You were almost too 
much…” 
 
No one moved. Silence. Then Elladan picked Legolas up 
from the ground. Elrohir helped slip the top back onto the 
shivering body. 
 
“Where to now?” he asked. 
 
“Back to his rooms,” the elder replied, emotionless. “We 
never take those unwilling.” A blunt statement, a 
reminder, as if it was his brother and not himself who had 
almost forgot their unwritten law. 
 
Elrohir simply nodded, and followed his brother and the 
drunk boy back towards the Last Homely House. 
 
As they walked back, the prince whispered deliriously in 
his daze. 
 
“Ada..?”  
 
 
t.b.c.  
Ada = Father  
Nin-iond = my son 
Corupen = (OC) ‘wily one’ 
Miruvor = elvish drink, ‘way-mead’ 
Gwanur = brother 
Dilthen-pen = little one 
Conceptually Beta’d by Aliaself – Thank you, thank you, 
thank you, thank you! 
Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ 
Website: 
http://www.lotrfanfiction.com/viewuser.php?uid=198  
Art page: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bonys_art/ 
Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au



‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna  
~Part 15~ 
 
Elladan grunted as he tried to open the door to the prince’s 
rooms, yet he was unsuccessful with his arms full of said 
elf. “Gawnur…” he asked, and Elrohir stepped in front to 
open the door. 
 
“Ada…?” Legolas called again feebly, still drifting between 
consciousness and sleep. 
 
“Hush now,” Elladan crooned, stepping through the door, 
“Soon you will…” He trailed off when he noticed the King of 
Mirkwood calmly sitting in a chair, reading a book, 
obviously having waited up for his son’s return. 
 
Thranduil looked up from his book and frowned, noticing 
the surprised expressions on the twins’ faces – almost 
guilty – and that his son also lay half-unconscious in 
Elladan’s arms. 
 
“Valar! What happened?” he asked, standing up. 
 
Elladan almost looked as though he wanted to take an 
involuntary step back, but steeled himself against it. 
 
“Nothing to get worried about,” he quipped, putting on an 
easy smile. “Your son just had a bit too much to drink, is 
all. I think someone gave him a bottle of spiced miruvour, 
and told him that it wasn’t very potent. I’m sorry, my Lord, 
I should have watched him more carefully.” 
 
Thranduil shook his head, accepting his son as Elladan 
handed him over. “It was not your task to watch him the 
whole night,” the king said, and the twin nodded his head 
gratefully. 
 
Legolas, smelling the scent of his father and feeling the 
familiar tingle of the bond whenever they touched, 
suddenly whimpered and clung desperately to his father’s 
robes. “Ada, please! Ada… Ada…” and he began to sob. 
Thranduil looked down with dismay at his son. His eyes 
flickered up to meet the twins, and again they looked 
somewhat guilty. 
 
“My Lord?” Elrohir offered quietly. “We should probably 
also tell you that an elf made a pass at him earlier this 
night. The elf meant no offence, but with your son being 
drunk, I think the prince took it the wrong way. We will 
see that the elf is properly reprimanded however, your 
Majesty.” 
 
“Thank you,” Thranduil said. The twins bowed, stating that 
they would leave the prince in his capable hands, and left. 
 
Thranduil put his son down on the bed, but Legolas refused 
to let go of his clothing, holding on tightly and still sobbing 
miserably. “Ada… Ada, please…” 
 
“Legolas? What’s wrong?” 
 
“Ada… Ada… no, please… help… I didn’t… no…” 
 
The king couldn’t make any sense out of his son’s drunken 
rambling, and in the end, curled up on the bed with his 
child tightly held in his arms until Legolas finally cried 
himself to sleep. After holding him for a while longer, 
Thranduil finally tucked the prince in, and then decided to 
make a trip to the healing rooms. Legolas would 
undoubtedly have a mighty hangover in the morning, but if 
he could find the right herbs, Thranduil knew of a drink 
which could help counteract that. 
 
The king quietly walked down the hallways until he came 
to the healing wing. Thranduil lit one of the lamps, and 
then looked around. He saw beds and medical utensils, but 
he couldn’t find where the herbs might be kept. 
 
“May I help you, Thranduil?” 
 
Thranduil started, and turning around was surprised to find 
Elrond standing behind him. “Elrond! By Elbereth, you 
nearly scared me into an unnatural grave!” 
 
Elrond grinned. “Well that wouldn’t do. What would happen 
to my peace negotiations then? Somehow I think your 
eldest would be very reluctant to sign a truce with the 
Noldorin who had killed his Ada.” 
 
Thranduil laughed softly. “You know? I actually missed 
your dry sense of humour.” 
 
Elrond gave a wry smile. “Really? As I recall it, the last 
time we met you called me an ‘uncharismatic, big-headed, 
senseless and self-promoting Noldorin, who smelt and 
looked worse than a giant dead spider’.” 
 
Thranduil had the sense to look slightly abashed. “Yes, 
well… If *I* remember correctly, you weren’t exactly 
serenading me with complimentary adjectives either.” 
 
Elrond frowned slightly, looking perplexed as if he tried to 
remember something. “I don’t know about that… in your 
case, I thought calling you arrogant *was* a 
compliment…” 
 
For a moment Thranduil almost let his anger get the better 
of him, but then he noticed the way Elrond’s eyes danced 
with mirth, and realised the half-elf was only teasing him. 
 
“Yes, well… maybe I didn’t miss your humour *that* 
much…” he grumbled. 
 
Elrond laughed heartily. “Well then. If the matter of my 
sense of humour and your arrogance is put aside, is there 
anything I can help you with? Were you looking for 
something in particular, or are you simply lost?” 
 
Thranduil decided to ignore the last statement. “Actually, I 
was looking for the herb cabinet. Legolas had a bit too 
much to drink at the party, and I was hoping to make him 
a remedy for his hang-over.” 
 
Elrond nodded, and indicated for Thranduil to follow him. 
He was led into a room next door, which was filled with 
shelves of herbs, ointments, particular books on healing, 
and other bits and pieces. “Which herbs do you need?” 
 
Thranduil recited the ingredients, and Elrond, with great 
proficiency, picked out small sachets of each. He put them 
in a small basket, along with a glass, some water and a 
stirring rod. 
 
“Do you need anything else?” the dark-haired elf asked, 
surveying the small hamper. 
 
Thranduil smiled softly and shook his head. “No, that’s all. 
Thank you, Elrond.” 
 
Elrond looked up at the king, giving him a piercing look. 
“You’re welcome… You know, it’s very odd that you are 
here doing this for your son.” 
 
Thranduil frowned. “Why is that? Surely you would do the 
same if one of your son’s were drunk?” 
 
Elrond gave a wry smile. “Not anymore – I don’t know 
much about what they get up too. My point is, however, 
that I would not have expected you to wait up for your 
son’s return from the party. Why did you not go to bed? 
Are you always so protective of your children?” 
 
Thranduil had a sneaking suspicion he knew where this 
conversation was headed, remembering Legolas had 
mentioned that Elrond had seen their scars. He didn’t 
panic, however, as he had been around for a long time, 
and knew all about bluffing. True, he might not be as good 
as Bórsael, but he had kept his cool through enough 
councils to know how to fool his enemy.  
 
“Legolas is young, and I thought it best to wait up and 
make sure everything was okay when he returned,” he 
said mildly. 
 
Elrond frowned. “I did not think he was young enough to 
still need a mothering parent.” 
 
“He is only 46.” 
 
“46?!” Elrond said, clearly shocked. “But then, he’s not 
even reached his majority!” 
 
“Of course,” Thranduil said, slightly amused. “46 does 
come before 50.” 
 
Elrond glowered and then laughed softly. “I’m sorry, I just 
did not realise Legolas was *that* young. Normally… well, 
normally it’s not considered safe for an elfling to leave his 
realm until he has come of age.” 
 
“Legolas is hardly an ‘elfling’, Elrond. He is more mature 
than most boys his age, even if he isn’t yet 50.” 
 
Elrond nodded. “Well, you are his father, so I suppose you 
know best.” 
 
Thranduil smiled. “Your confidence in me is 
overwhelming.” 
 
Elrond chuckled, and handed the basket of herbs to the 
king. Thranduil reached out with both hands to accept, and 
noticed the lord of Imladris cast a glance at his scarred 
palm. 
 
“Still…” Elrond murmured, his voice hiding a dark 
undertone again. “It still seems odd to me that you waited 
for your son’s return. If he is mature enough to leave 
Mirkwood underage, are you not able to trust him to return 
from a simple party?” 
 
Thranduil realised he was backed up in a tight corner. “I 
still worry,” he said, but knew he would have to offer more 
in order to quell Elrond’s suspicions. 
 
“Besides,” Thranduil added. “There has been a recent… 
tragedy back at home. It affected Legolas quite badly. It 
was one reason I brought him with me, as I wanted to 
keep my eye on him and make sure he didn’t brood. I 
thought the change of scenery might do him some good as 
well.” 
 
Elrond’s eyes softened in compassion, and he seemed 
satisfied with the answer, realising he had no business 
inquiring as to what this ‘tragedy’ might be. 
 
“I’m sorry. Forgive my prying.” 
 
“It is quite alright,” Thranduil said. “Everything is well 
now…I hope.” 
 
Thranduil turned to leave when Elrond’s voice stopped him. 
“It… it didn’t have anything to do with orcs, did it? This 
tragedy, I mean.” 
 
Thranduil faced the lord and frowned. “No… why do you 
ask that?” 
 
Elrond looked as though he didn’t want to say anymore, 
then sighed, giving in. “They worry me, Thranduil, the 
orcs. Their numbers have been growing. A few of my 
sentries have been killed by their cursed lot. I feel the 
world growing darker, Thranduil, and I fear. I fear this 
peace we won so long ago is once again about to become 
undone.” 
 
Thranduil’s eyes widened, in sudden realisation. “So *that* 
is why you have called these talks.” 
 
Elrond nodded, looking very weary and burdened. 
Thranduil felt sorry for him. “Galadriel shares my fears, 
and advised that the free peoples of Middle Earth should 
join together now, in order to combat any darkness that 
might come in the future. I realised that to do this, the 
elves have to be united, before we could ever hope to win 
any other alliances. Our past bickering has been foolish, 
meldir. It is time we put our differences behind us, and 
look to the future safety of our realms, and our world. Or 
else your sons and mine may never know the centuries of 
peace and light that we have.” 
 
Thranduil nodded, gravely. “Thank you for sharing this 
with me. I believe it will make negotiations easier 
tomorrow, knowing you are not trying to dupe me 
somehow!” 
 
Elrond gave a tired smile. “Indeed, that is good news then. 
You’d best go now; I’ve kept you long enough. Your son no 
doubt needs your comfort – and those herbs.” 
 
Thranduil nodded, and then bowed, showing his respect 
and gratitude towards the lord in that simple act. “Until the 
morning, then,” Thranduil said with a small smile, and then 
left. 
 
~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Legolas woke up slowly the next morning. He could feel 
himself lazily waking, only he didn’t want to. There was a 
faint pounding in his temples which grew stronger and 
louder as he drifted towards consciousness. In the end, he 
reluctantly came too with a great, agonised moan, then 
stopped himself when the sound seemed too loud for his 
precious head. 
 
He blinked his eyes a few times against what he 
considered to be a very bright light. He would have to ask 
someone next time to turn the sun down when he woke 
up. It was far too obscenely bright, so early in the day. 
 
Legolas looked about groggily, expecting to see his father 
lying next to him. The king had, after all, been holding him 
when he fell asleep. Only his Ada was now nowhere to be 
seen. 
 
“Ada?” he croaked, ignoring his headache as he tried to sit 
up. “Ada…?” 
 
Where the hell was the blond lord? Legolas started to feel 
frantic, wishing desperately that his father had stayed with 
him. Memories of last night were slowly coming back, and 
he felt extremely childish, vulnerable, and ill. Not a good 
combination. He could remember Corupen, and the twins 
saving him. He remembered feeling odd after he continued 
drinking what the twins’ had said was safe to consume. He 
didn’t believe that now. And then there were… flashes of 
memory. Being taken outside… hands touching him… lips… 
unwanted caresses… Legolas shuddered and tears filled his 
eyes at the memory. 
 
“Ada?” he sobbed more loudly, and then began rocking 
himself in bed. His stomach rolled, and he wondered if he 
was going to be sick. 
 
The bathroom door opened, and Thranduil stepped out, 
looking concerned. “Legolas? What is it?” 
 
Legolas began sobbing harder, relieved to have found that 
his father was still in his quarters. His father had not 
abandoned him. 
 
“Ada!” he called, and held his hands out towards the king. 
 
Thranduil quickly hurried over to the bed and buried his 
son in a hug. Legolas sobbed against his shoulder for a 
while. “Don’t e-ever do t-that again…” he said, his voice 
muffled. 
 
“Do what?” Thranduil whispered. 
 
“Leave the b-bed before I w-wake up. You s-scared me…” 
 
“I’m sorry, dilthen-pen. I wont leave you again.” 
 
“Thank you… I love you, Ada.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
After a little while, Legolas moaned. “Ooow… my head 
hurts.” 
 
Thranduil pulled back from the hug and grinned. “Did 
someone have too much to drink last night?” 
 
Legolas pouted. “Obviously, but the elf who gave me the 
bottle said it was only a fruit drink.” He considered telling 
his father about the twins, then decided not too. The twins 
had stopped, after all, when it became obvious he had not 
wanted what they offered, and it would only worry his 
father and possibly ruin the negotiations for peace if he 
brought it up. It was best to remain quiet, and pretend 
that there had just been one elf last night who had tried to 
get him drunk. 
 
“You should have known better than that,” Thranduil 
admonished, smiling fondly at his son’s naivety. Legolas 
declined to answer. “Here, I have something for you.” 
 
Thranduil reached over to the bedside table and handed 
Legolas a glass. Inside was some thick, greenish sludge. 
Legolas felt his stomach turn just from looking at it. 
 
“Ugh! What on Arda is *that*?” he asked, screwing up his 
nose in disgust. 
 
“Breakfast,” Thranduil replied with an evil grin, and then 
laughed heartily at his son’s look of horrified disbelief.  
 
Legolas tentatively sniffed the glass and gagged. “You 
have to be joking!” 
 
Thranduil seemed to be enjoying himself greatly. “Well, 
you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want too. It just 
means you can enjoy the rest of the day with that 
wonderful headache of yours,” and he tapped the prince on 
the head for emphasis. Legolas yelped, and then glared 
daggers at his father. 
 
“You know? I believe Bórsael was right when he called you 
insane.” 
 
“Good, then you’ve finally learnt the truth. I’m mad. And 
it’s hereditary. Now drink up, I went to a lot of trouble to 
make that for you.” 
 
Legolas regarded the glass, pinched his nose with one 
hand, and then found the courage to down the whole glass 
in one go. 
 
“Bleuagh!” he declared when finished, and shuddered. 
 
Thranduil laughed again and took the glass from his son’s 
hands. He kissed the boy affectionately on the forehead, 
and then froze. Both elves went deathly still, and then 
jumped as they felt a strong current of energy spark from 
Thranduil into the prince. They looked at each other wide 
eyed, as a strange feeling passed through them. For a 
moment, it seemed as though they melded into one – 
Thranduil could almost read his son’s thoughts, and 
Legolas was able to sense his father’s presence in his 
mind. Then the sensation passed, and they were normal 
again. Separate, yet they both sensed the bond between 
them stronger than ever. 
 
“What was that?” Legolas asked, slightly shaken. 
 
Thranduil frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure. I 
think the bond must be growing stronger.” 
 
“Ada, you were *in* my mind!” 
 
“And what a lovely mind you have too,” the king teased, 
and lent forward and tenderly kissed the boy on the lips. 
“We will worry about this later,” he said, getting up and 
going to the bathroom to wash out the glass. “I have to 
get ready now for the peace talks. What shall you do 
today? Have you and the twins made any plans?” 
 
Legolas felt a flicker of fear at the mention of the twins, 
but it quickly passed. Thranduil, however, turned around in 
the bathroom and gave his son a funny look. “Legolas, are 
you okay?” 
 
Legolas frowned. “Of course, why?” 
 
“It’s just… for a moment I thought… I seemed to sense… 
Never mind,” the king finished lamely. Legolas was slightly 
perturbed, wondering if his father had been able to sense 
his emotions. The king had done so before, when he had 
become lost in the halls. But he had been very distressed 
then, whereas now he had only felt a brief flash of anxiety. 
Perhaps his father was right, maybe the bond *was* 
growing stronger. Legolas wasn’t sure if he should feel 
pleased or annoyed that his father was able to sense his 
every emotion from afar. 
 
“I think I shall entertain myself today, Ada. Don’t worry 
about me, just make sure this peace treaty is dealt with as 
efficiently as possible.” 
 
Thranduil nodded, and began to prepare for council. 
 
~*~*~*~*~ 
 
About half an hour after his father left his room, Legolas 
also walked into the corridors, feeling remarkably good for 
someone who had just experienced their first hang-over. 
His father’s foul tasting medicine had worked wonderfully, 
though the prince was loath to admit it. 
 
Legolas wandered about the house aimlessly, not really 
sure where he was going, but not really caring. He couldn’t 
go back to the negotiations, but neither did he want to 
spend the day with the twins. Not after last night. He 
decided he would wander until something of interest 
caught his eye. 
 
It didn’t take long. In fact, he had only walked down a few 
hallways when a door suddenly opened to his right. The 
door had a picture of a barrel on it, and the prince realised 
it led into a wine cellar. Legolas stepped back and looked 
with mild surprise as Glorfindel stepped out of the room, 
looking slightly rumpled. 
 
“Oh, hello Legolas!” the warrior greeted cheerfully, his 
eyes dancing with mischief. He looked back at the room he 
had emerged from, and then gave the prince a cheeky 
wink and a grin. Then the Golden lord strutted off down 
the hall, whistling the tune to the sheep-herder song. 
 
Legolas watched the lord with bewildered mirth, until he 
turned down a corridor. He was about to leave himself 
when, to his utter shock, the same door opened again, and 
none other than the dark-haired advisor of Imladris walked 
out. He looked even more rumpled than Glorfindel. His hair 
was askew, his shirt half undone, and there was a soft 
flush on his face. 
 
Erestor had shut the door and taken a step before he 
realised Legolas was there. He froze, and then a very dark 
blush stained his cheeks. 
 
“Good morning, Erestor,” Legolas said, a very broad grin 
spreading across his face. “If you’re looking for Glorfindel, 
I believe he headed off in that direction,” and he pointed 
helpfully behind him. 
 
Erestor nodded dumbly, and then paused again when 
Glorfindel’s voice called out, “Erestor, are you coming? I 
mean again? Because Lord Elrond will be most displeased 
if we’re late for negotiations.” 
 
Erestor’s face grew even redder, and he opened his mouth, 
trying to think of something to say to Legolas to salvage 
the situation. After gaping a few times, the advisor gave 
up, sighed, and dutifully walked off after his lover. 
 
When he had disappeared, Legolas allowed himself a soft 
laugh, and then continued on his way. 
 
It appeared as though Glorfindel and Erestor had made up. 
 
~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Legolas was becoming fairly acquainted with the layout of 
the Last Homely House. He had spent most of the morning 
exploring the house, and most of *that* time had been 
looking in the armoury and at the many beautiful paintings 
and illuminations of old. At lunch, he managed to find the 
kitchens without too much trouble, where an elf-maid who 
reminded him a lot of Goldgwen sat him down and 
practically force-fed him all bits and pieces. She had 
insisted that he stay and help her bake some cookies, and 
then proceeded to pack half the batch into a small hamper 
for the prince to take away. Legolas was quite touched. 
 
He went outside after that, into another wonderful day. He 
purposefully avoided the training field (with much regret) 
but found numerous other gardens, lakes and alcoves to 
keep him entertained. At one stage he visited the barracks 
and talked with some of the soldiers who had accompanied 
his father and him to Imladris. They were all well, and 
were pleased that the prince was too, glad he was no 
longer ‘ill’. After receiving a few curious looks, Legolas 
showed the guards that he had cookies in his hamper, and 
was most amused when they begged him for some. In the 
end, they sat down together and ate the cookies, while 
Legolas told them stories about his time with the lords of 
Imladris. He didn’t mention, of course, his activities with 
the twins, except that they had invited him to a party in 
which he drank too much. The soldiers laughed and 
claimed that he was now no longer a boy, having 
experienced his first hangover. 
 
Now the prince was again wandering the gardens 
aimlessly, waiting for the time to pass when he would 
meet his father for dinner. The sun was warm on his face, 
and he was standing by the edge of the forest, when 
someone called out to him. 
 
“Legolas, wait up!” 
 
The prince looked up with a sick, sinking feeling in his 
stomach as he saw Elladan approach him with a bow slung 
over his back. The twin must have been on his way back – 
or to – the training fields. For a moment Legolas panicked, 
images of last night hitting him; his helplessness, and how 
the twins had manipulated him. In his mind he called out 
to his father, wishing that his Ada were here to support 
and protect him. It was strange, but for a moment, the 
boy thought that he heard his father respond. Then it was 
gone, and Elladan was standing before him, grinning. 
 
“How are you? You seem well recovered from last night,” 
the twin said amiably, putting his bow down on the 
ground. 
 
“You have some nerve saying that to me,” Legolas retorted 
stiffly. “And I am well, thanks to my father’s care, as you 
and your brother certainly didn’t seem to concern 
yourselves much with my well-being last night.” 
 
Elladan winced. “Please, Legolas. Elrohir and I are very 
sorry about –” 
 
“Sorry!” Legolas snorted and crossed his arms in front of 
his chest, looking away from the twin. 
 
“Legolas! We did stop after all, didn’t we?” 
 
Legolas lowered his head, conceding to the truth. “Yes, I 
suppose you did.” 
 
“There now,” Elladan said soothingly, putting his hands on 
the boy’s upper arms. “I’m sorry. We did not mean to take 
advantage of you while you were drunk. We were just 
hoping the alcohol might … loosen you up a bit.” 
 
Legolas gave the twin a cold stare, but the dark-haired elf 
didn’t seem perturbed. “Please, Legolas. Try and see it 
from our point of view. Elrohir and I just thought you were 
playing coy.” 
 
“I wasn’t playing anything, and I’d appreciate it if you 
would *stop* touching me,” Legolas snapped, wriggling 
out of Elladan’s touch and taking several steps back. The 
Peredhel, however, matched every step with his own, until 
Legolas soon found himself backed up against a tree trunk. 
 
“You’re taking this too seriously, Legolas,” Elladan said, a 
small smile teasing the corner of his lips. He was bare 
inches from the trapped prince, and Legolas felt panic rise 
up within him. Oh god, why wasn’t his Ada here to help 
him? /Ada, help me *please*!/ 
 
“No, Elladan. I think you’re not taking this seriously 
enough,” Legolas retorted, his voice shaking with fear and 
anger. “You came very close to *raping* me last night, 
and now you’re scaring me again when you profess to 
being sorry!” Legolas was starting to tremble, and he 
wanted to run but Elladan’s intense eyes had him pinned. 
 
“I admit I got a little carried away,” Elladan shrugged 
nonchalantly, “but I was slightly drunk myself. And who 
can blame me for what I did, when you were so beautiful 
and willing putty in my hands?” 
 
“Willing?! I was *never* willing,” Legolas gasped, outraged 
but still intimidated. 
 
Elladan took another step forward so that his taller, 
heavier frame was pressed against the prince’s. Legolas 
yelped and looked up with fear and dread into the dark-
haired elf’s eyes. 
 
“Why are you so frightened?” Elladan asked, his lips 
whispering the words against the prince’s mouth. “Anyone 
would think you are an inexperienced elfling…” 
 
“Maybe that’s because I am,” Legolas whimpered, his voice 
shaking with fear.  
 
Elladan pulled back slightly with a puzzled look on his face. 
“What? You’re not experienced?” 
 
“No, I am still considered an elfling,” Legolas said softly. 
 
Elladan stared dumbly at the blonde boy. “How old are 
you?” he asked, as if suddenly fearful of the answer. 
 
“46,” Legolas replied. He thought the twins had known his 
age, but now it was obvious that they hadn’t. He became 
even more scared, fearful of how the twin would react 
upon learning this news. 
 
“What?! 46?!” Elladan paled and took a small step back. 
For a moment, Legolas wondered if the twin wasn’t about 
to faint. “You *can’t* be,” Elladan stammered. 
 
“I can assure you, he *is*,” a deep, stern voice said. 
 
Legolas and Elladan started, and the twin moved a pace 
back from Legolas, and turned around. The two young 
elves saw Thranduil standing nearby with his arms crossed 
in front of his chest, and a dark expression on his face. He 
looked ready to spit fire and tear down mountains. 
 
If it were possible, Elladan grew even whiter. 
 
“Now,” Thranduil said, his voice ominously low and quiet. 
“Would someone be kind enough to tell me what exactly is 
going on here?” 
 
 
t.b.c.  
Ada = Father  
Gwanur = brother 
Peredhel = half-elf 
Miruvour = ‘way-mead’, elvish drink 
Meldir = friend 
Dilthen-pen = little one 
Arda = earth 
Conceptually Beta’d by Aliaself – Thank you, thank you, 
thank you, thank you! 
Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ 
Website: 
http://www.lotrfanfiction.com/viewuser.php?uid=198 
Art page: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bonys_art/ 
Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au



‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna  
~Part 16~ 
 
“My Lord!” Elladan gasped upon seeing the father of the elf 
he had been trying to seduce. 
 
“Yes,” Thranduil said blandly, “I know who I am. Now kindly 
explain what you were doing to my son.” 
 
Elladan gaped, at a loss for words, and then he began to 
tremble and his eyes widened further when he saw someone 
else approach. Legolas and Thranduil turned their heads and 
saw Elrond come out of the house, having followed 
Thranduil. The Lord of Imladris sensed the tension 
immediately. His son looked fearful and guilty; the king 
angry, and the young prince was pressed up against a tree, 
unsure whether he should appear more relieved or 
intimidated. 
 
“What is going on here?” Elrond demanded, his voice 
authoritative. 
 
“That is exactly what I would like to know,” Thranduil replied 
crisply, looking at Elladan. He stared down the young lord a 
moment longer before looking at Elrond. “I just discovered 
your son here, accosting my own boy!” 
 
Elrond raised an eyebrow and then frowned, turning to his 
son. “Is this true?” he asked with a deceptively mild tone. 
 
Elladan trembled. “I… Ada… I didn’t… but…” 
 
Elrond cut him off crisply. “If you’re not going to talk in 
understandable sentences, Elladan, then I’m simply going to 
assume you’re guilty.” 
 
Elladan’s eyes grew very large, and then he seemed to calm 
down, getting himself back under control and squaring his 
shoulders. “It is mostly true, yes,” he said, standing tall and 
chin up. “But I had no intentions of hurting Prince Legolas, 
nor doing anything against his will. I was merely teasing, 
but realise now that what I did was wrong. I did not mean 
to frighten the prince.” 
 
Elrond’s lips thinned. “Do you realise that this boy has not 
yet come of age?” Elrond said softly. 
 
Elladan blushed. “I’m sorry, Ada. I only just found this out 
now before you came. I had assumed Legolas was of age 
before –” 
 
“And that would have made a difference?” Thranduil asked 
acidly. “If my son had been fifty, it would have been 
perfectly acceptable to harass and touch him against his 
will? 
 
Elladan shook his head, clearly starting to loose his 
composure again in the face of Thranduil’s fury. “No, my 
Lord. It’s just… I thought he was just being demure – 
modest – and last night we –” 
 
“Last night *what*?!” Thranduil thundered, finally realising 
there was more to this than what he knew. He remembered 
his son’s condition when the brothers had brought him back 
last night, and the guilty looks the twins’ had worn. 
 
Elladan hesitated, and then sagged, realising there was 
nothing he could do but admit the truth. “Last night Elrohir 
and I tried to seduce Legolas when he was drunk, but the 
prince was not accommodating.” 
 
“So,” Elrond said, his eyes dark with anger. “Your brother is 
also involved in this.” 
 
Elladan winced at having just unwittingly named his brother 
a culprit as well. 
 
“How *dare* you try to molest my son!” Thranduil hissed, 
taking a threatening step towards the heir of Imladris. 
 
Legolas, sensing trouble, quickly sprung to life and stood 
before his father. “Ada, please!” he begged, putting his 
hands on his father’s chest in what he hoped was a placating 
gesture. 
 
Thranduil, feeling a sudden urge of protectiveness, grabbed 
his son possessively and pulled him close. He lifted Legolas’ 
chin with one hand to look the boy directly in the eyes. “Did 
they hurt you?” he asked anxiously. “Did they touch you? 
Did they violate you, nin-iond? Why didn’t you tell me?” 
 
Legolas felt tears starting to form in his eyes, and he tried 
to push them back. “Ada, please. Not here,” he said quietly, 
and cast a glance at Elladan and Elrond. 
 
Thranduil nodded reluctantly, wanting desperately to kiss his 
son on the lips – reassure himself that the boy was okay 
and that his son knew he was loved – but settled for kissing 
the prince’s forehead. Then he pulled Legolas against his 
chest in a tight embrace. 
 
He looked up at Elrond, a cold fire in his eyes. “My son and 
I, and our retinue, shall leave tomorrow. The negotiations 
are off,” he said frostily.  
 
Elrond looked startled and dismayed, but before he could 
plead with the king, Legolas pulled back from his father and 
looked him in the eye. “No Ada, please! Lord Elrond had 
nothing to do with his son’s actions. This peace is too 
important to our realm – and obviously Elrond’s too if he 
called for it – to be so easily dismissed because of one little 
misdemeanour.” 
 
Elrond nodded, pleased that Legolas, at least, was speaking 
sense. “Your son speaks wisely, Lord Thranduil. Please, I am 
deeply sorry for what my sons have done, and will ensure 
they are properly punished. But do not leave yet when we 
are so close to signing the treaty. I have already explained 
why this truce is so important, not just for us, but for all of 
Arda.” 
 
Thranduil looked as though he didn’t care, and simply 
wanted to scream abusive words and storm off with his son 
safely held in his arms, never to look back. Then his son 
tugged on his arm and whispered, “Please, Ada. Listen to 
him.” 
 
Thranduil sighed and bowed his head. He could never deny 
Legolas anything. “Do you know how good you are for me?” 
he asked his son softly, and gave the boy a gentle smile, not 
caring if the Peredhels’ heard him and were suspicious. 
 
Legolas smiled back, almost sad, but didn’t say anything. 
Thranduil again kissed his son on the brow, very tenderly, 
and then hugged the boy close for a few moments. When he 
pulled back, he looked at Elrond with a resolved gaze. 
 
“Fine. We shall stay here until the peace talks have been 
concluded. But if one of your sons so much as *looks* at my 
boy in a way to make him feel uncomfortable, I will 
*personally* castrate them myself.” 
 
Elladan blanched, although Elrond had to hold back a laugh, 
amused by the threat. His son deserved it, after all. “That 
sounds well enough to me, my Lord,” Elrond said. “Well, I 
think we’ll call it a day. No doubt if we returned to the 
council, we’ll have found that Istidhren has been kicked out 
of the room while Glorfindel occupies his time with Erestor, 
and I hardly think any of us want to see *that*. Not to 
mention that I need to find my other son, and have a good 
talking to my boys.” The lord gave Elladan a hard stare, and 
the twin shrunk within himself. So there were limits to the 
elder twin’s cockiness, Legolas noticed, pleased. 
 
“After diner,” Elrond continued, “I might ask if I can have a 
word with you in private, my Lord,” Elrond looked at 
Thranduil. 
 
The king frowned, but nodded. “Of course.” 
 
“Excellent,” Elrond said, very business-like. “Now, if you’ll 
come with me, Elladan, we’ll go and see if we can find your 
brother. Until dinner then, Thranduil, Legolas.” 
 
Thranduil nodded as Elrond turned and left, a very meek 
Peredhel son following after. 
 
When they were out of hearing range, Legolas turned to his 
father and asked, “Were you just in negotiations?” 
 
“Yes, why?” 
 
“How did you come across Elladan and me?” Legolas asked, 
perplexed.  
 
Thranduil gave a soft smile. “It was quite strange, actually. I 
think it was the bond.” 
 
Legolas’ face was blank and uncomprehending, so the king 
continued to explain. “We were sitting down, talking through 
the peace – and might I say we got quite far for just the 
second day – when I sensed you call out to me. I hesitated 
for a moment, not knowing what to do. In the end, I stood 
up, and said that I had to find you. You should have seen 
the odd expressions the other elves gave me!” 
 
Legolas smiled, and Thranduil went on. “At first I wasn’t 
sure where to look, but then the feeling that you were in 
distress became stronger, very powerful and undeniable. I 
was drawn to you like a light, and that’s when I found that 
loathsome twin pressed all over you, ignoring the fact that 
you were clearly terrified and unwilling.” 
 
Legolas smiled contentedly, and rested his head against his 
father’s chest. “Thank you, Ada.” 
 
Thranduil wrapped his arms about his son. “For what?” 
 
“For saving me. For loving me. For binding with me. For 
putting up with all the trouble I cause…” 
 
Thranduil gave him a rueful smile. “I’ve told you before, nin-
ind, you are no trouble.” 
 
“Ha!” Legolas said, but decided not to argue the point 
further.  
 
“Come on,” Thranduil murmured after a few minutes. “How 
about we lie down for a while before we go to dinner.” 
 
“Hmmm…” Legolas hummed, nonchalant.  
 
Thranduil hesitated, and then tried to sound innocent when 
he suggested, “And maybe you can tell me what the twins 
tried to do to you last night…?” 
 
“Ada…” Legolas warned, not wanting to talk about it and 
cause the king to feel angry again. 
 
Thranduil sighed. “Fine. You’re a stubborn elf, you know 
that?” 
 
“I get it from my father,” Legolas teased, and then pulled 
back and looked up into the king’s face, grinning. 
 
Thranduil gave his best, most fearsome scowl. “You, boy,” 
he said in a deep, menacing voice, “are not too old yet to 
get a spanking!” 
 
Legolas squealed and laughed delightedly. He ran out of 
reach of his father’s arms, daring the king to chase him with 
sparkling eyes and a joyful grin. It was a challenge easily 
accepted, and Thranduil playfully chased his son through the 
gardens until they found their way back to the boy’s rooms. 
There they collapsed on the bed in a panting, giggly mess, 
and curled up in each other’s arms to doze until supper, 
unaware that their cavorting had been witnessed by one 
Lord of Imladris, staring out a window.  
 
~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Thranduil knocked on the door to Elrond’s study after 
dinner, unable to help feeling a bit apprehensive. He didn’t 
know why the Lord of Imladris had asked for his time. 
Perhaps it was just to discuss the twins’ behaviour? 
 
“Come in, Thranduil,” Elrond called, and the king entered. 
 
The study was spacious and richly decorated, with a large 
shelf of books, as well as the Peredhel’s desk and chair. 
Another chair sat opposite Elrond’s. The raven haired lord 
stood when Thranduil approached, and gave the blond a 
pleasant smile. 
 
“Thank you for coming, Thranduil,” the lord said, sitting 
down when the king did. 
 
“It was no trouble,” Thranduil said sincerely but cautiously. 
“Although, I must profess I am confused as to why you 
wished to speak with me in private. Is it serious?” 
 
Elrond frowned. “I’m not sure,” he said at length. “Which is 
why I have asked you to come. How long ago did you bind 
with your son?” 
 
Thranduil started, then quickly tried to hide his surprise. He 
had had some inkling that Elrond might try and bring this 
topic up, but he had not expected Elrond to do it so quickly 
and bluntly. He now had himself composed, yet hoped the 
Peredhel had not seen his momentary panic. 
 
“I beg your pardon? What on earth are you talking about, 
Elrond? Is this another one of your jokes? 
 
Elrond gave Thranduil a hard look. “Hardly. I’ve seen the 
scars on both your palms, Thranduil.”  
 
Thranduil forced himself to laugh. “Elrond, please! This 
scar,” and he showed his palm, “is from the binding 
ceremony my wife and I went through. Legolas’ scar is from 
a mere hunting accident a few days ago.” 
 
Elrond’s resolve seem to waver a moment, but then the 
hard look came back into his eyes. “Perhaps. But how was it 
that you were able to sense Legolas’ distress today? I saw 
what happened, Thranduil. We were sitting in the council 
room, and then you suddenly stood up and said you had to 
find Legolas, and left. I followed you, concerned, only to 
discover that my son had apparently been all over yours. 
Unless the two of you were bound, how else could you have 
known that Legolas was in trouble?” 
 
Thranduil blinked, caught. He had not thought of an excuse 
for this. Elrond added quietly, “I also saw you and Legolas 
earlier, playing in the garden. You two remind me more of 
newlyweds rather than father and son.” 
 
Thranduil blushed, and opened his mouth to try and explain 
his behaviour, but Elrond held up his hand, cutting the king 
off. “Save it, Thranduil, I don’t want to hear you struggle to 
explain those two incidents. I’m not a simpleton. You and 
your son both have matching scars. Legolas seems too 
young to be going out on hunting expeditions, and if he did, 
I imagine his weapon of choice would be a bow, not a knife, 
from all I’ve heard. And your scar seems too new to have 
been a result of a binding ceremony with your wife.” 
 
“We bonded late in our marriage?” Thranduil offered lamely, 
even though he knew it was now futile to try and protect his 
secret. 
 
Elrond shook his head, and gave the king a surprisingly 
gentle and sympathetic smile. “I understand what difficulties 
you must be going through, Thranduil, and –” 
 
Thranduil slammed his palm down on the desk, his face 
livid. “How *dare* you presume to understand my 
situation?! You have no idea what Legolas and I had to go 
through, simply to still be *alive* today.” Thranduil jumped 
up from his chair and began to pace the room, fuming. “So 
what are you going to do now, Elrond? How shall you use 
this weakness of my child and mine? Are you going to 
announce it to the world, tell everyone how Thranduil, King 
of Mirkwood, has bound himself to his underage son? Do 
you expect you’ll have a better chance at seducing my 
eldest with your dreams of peace, if my people were to 
dethrone me? Well, Elrond? Are you happy now that you 
have reduced me so?” 
 
Elrond looked up calmly at the raging blond. “I see you still 
haven’t done anything about that temper of yours. I’ve 
never seen anyone blow hot and cold quite as easily as you 
do. Why don’t you have a seat?” 
 
Thranduil scowled, but couldn’t help being slightly mollified 
by the Peredhel’s tone and words. He sat down, but was still 
clearly upset. “Elrond –” 
 
The Peredhel again held up a hand, cutting off the blond 
lord. “Thranduil, wait. I am not here to judge you, or gloat. 
Why else would I have called for this meeting to be 
private?” 
 
Thranduil thought about that for a moment, but his scowl 
didn’t lessen. “I still don’t find much comfort in that, Elrond. 
If you don’t want to blackmail me somehow, then why even 
bring this up?” 
 
Elrond reached out a hand and placed it over one of 
Thranduil’s. “Because I want to help you. Trust me, meldir. I 
*know* what it is you’re going through.” 
 
Thranduil looked at the hand on his own, and then Elrond’s 
words sunk in, and his eyes widened. “You *know*? 
How…Your sons…?!” 
 
Elrond laughed softly. “No. As much as I love my sons, I do 
not pine for them. However, there was one I use to love 
before Celebrian, and that was my brother.” 
 
Thranduil was stunned. “Elros?! You were in love with your 
twin?” 
 
The king saw a flicker of pain pass over Elrond’s face as the 
Peredhel nodded. “Aye, I was and I still am. Do you now 
understand when I say that I can sympathise with you?” 
 
Thranduil nodded, dumbstruck. “But why? How? What 
happened?” 
 
Elrond looked sad, and sat back in his chair, removing his 
hand from Thranduil’s. “When Elros and I were young – a bit 
older than Legolas – I realised that my feelings for Elros 
were more than what a brother should normally feel for his 
sibling. At first I tried to delude myself, say that it was just 
because we were twins. After a few decades, however, I 
found that my life revolved around Elros, and I could not 
deny that I was in love with him. I dreamt of him every 
night, fantasised about him. I would have done *anything*, 
just to see him smile. Eventually I admitted my feelings for 
him, knowing that if I did not, I would go insane. Elros 
received it better than I thought he would, and shocked me 
when he said that he had been struggling with similar 
feelings for me. At first I rejoiced, but then my brother killed 
my hope, saying that our love for each other was unnatural 
and should not be pursued.” 
 
Elrond took a moment to compose himself, and Thranduil 
felt his heart go out towards the Peredhel. Elrond sighed, 
and looked out the window as he continued his story. “For 
several years we tried to act like normal brothers, but our 
denied love was slowly killing us. One night I went to his 
room and begged that he forget that I was his brother, and 
just accept the fact that we were in love. But Elros denied 
me, saying it was wrong, and we would be cursed, exiled, 
and shunned. I did everything to persuade him otherwise, 
but he did not want to damn us, or shame our family and 
people. When I kissed him, he almost relented, but then 
pushed me away and told me to leave his room. I did, 
devastated, and the next morning I discovered he had given 
up his immortality, and would leave to live with Men… I was 
so distraught I thought I would die when he told me this. He 
said it was for our own good, that this way our suffering 
would soon be over, as he would die, and I could live my life 
without him. He made me promise to not give up my 
immortality, and to love someone else and forget him… 
Well, I managed two out of three…” 
 
Elrond gave a bitter smile, and then wiped away the tears 
that had started to run down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he 
muttered. 
 
Thranduil shook his head and reached out across the desk 
and put his hand on Elrond’s. “Don’t apologise. It must be 
very painful for you.” 
 
“Aye, it is,” Elrond admitted, and looked at the king with a 
soft smile. “The years have softened the worst of the pain, 
however. There were many around who helped me through 
those first few decades, made sure I didn’t fade, although 
there were close calls. I am grateful for their support, for I 
now have three beautiful children, and I was able to meet 
Celebrian. Yet there are times I still miss him, and wonder if 
things could have been different…” 
 
The two lords sat in silence for a while, and then Elrond 
shook his head slowly as though coming out of dream. He 
looked at Thranduil, and most of his sorrow was gone. 
“Which brings us back to you, my friend.” 
 
“Me?” Thranduil asked, slightly surprised. 
 
“Yes,” Elrond said with a gentle smile. “Tell me, Thranduil. 
What is the nature of the relationship between you and 
Legolas?” 
 
Thranduil sighed, and took a few moments to struggle 
inwardly, wondering whether he should confide in Elrond or 
not. Eventually, he decided he could, as the Peredhel was 
likely to understand better than anyone else. 
 
“It is very complicated,” Thranduil began with a wry smile.  
 
Elrond nodded sympathetically. “So I thought,” he said. 
“Which is why I want to help. The last thing I ever want to 
see is for someone to go through the turmoil and pain that 
Elros and I had to endure.” 
 
Thranduil nodded, took in a deep breath, and then began to 
unburden his soul. He told Elrond about how he mistakenly 
took his son, and how he then discovered the truth. He told 
the raven lord about the trouble his family had gone through 
as Legolas’ condition grew worse, until the boy suddenly 
began to fade rapidly. He admitted that he had bonded to 
his son in order to save Legolas, and that life had been 
rather strained ever since, as the king constantly worried 
that Legolas might relapse at any moment. After a brief 
hesitation, Thranduil also admitted that his love for his son 
had deepened since the bond had been established. 
 
Elrond listened to all of this without interruption. At the end, 
he poured each of them a glass of brandy, which Thranduil 
gratefully accepted. Although he had now bared his soul to 
the Lord of Imladris, made himself vulnerable, he couldn’t 
help feeling lighter than usual, having at last told someone 
the whole truth. 
 
After a time, Elrond spoke. “This is a bit different than my 
situation with my brother, as I was in love with him from the 
beginning, whereas you and your son have been forced 
together by circumstances which you couldn’t control. 
However, you now admit that your feelings for your son 
have changed, deepened. How so?” 
 
Thranduil blushed slightly, something he didn’t often do, and 
Elrond smiled knowingly. “I… I think I am… I might be in 
love with him…” Thranduil admitted reluctantly, not daring 
to look the raven lord in the eyes. “But I can’t be, it would 
be so wrong.” 
 
“No,” Elrond said, shaking his head. “That’s what Elros and I 
thought, and it caused us much grief to think so.” 
 
Thranduil gave a sad smile. “Perhaps, but at least you and 
your brother were the same age. As a father, Elrond, surely 
you understand the difficulty I am facing in this. How could I 
possibly ask for my son to give up his youth and his chance 
for having a family, simply to be with me? What sort of life 
would that give him, and how would others possibly react?” 
 
Elrond thought about this for a moment. “As for how others 
would react, I really don’t think you need to worry. You are 
king, after all, and from what I hear, your people respect 
you. I’m sure in time they would understand. As for Legolas 
himself, how do you not know that he would be willing and 
happy to live with you? You believe that Legolas would be 
making a terrible mistake, and a grave sacrifice by binding 
himself to you in turn, but does it not occur to you that he 
may actually want that? That it might even be worse if you 
do not let him love you, bind to you? You could lose him to 
the elven sickness all over again.” 
 
Thranduil paled upon hearing this, and then shook his head. 
“We do not know *what* my son wants.” 
 
Elrond gave a sly smile. “I’m sure you, of all people 
Thranduil, would know your son’s heart and mind best. But 
if you’re going to be stubborn and pretend not to see what 
you do, then let me explain what *I* see in no uncertain 
terms. 
 
“I have seen you and Legolas together, Thranduil, and there 
is no denying that you love him, or he you. He dotes on you, 
the way he looks at you, talks with you, moves about you, 
all of it speaks of a deep, abiding love. Not only is he good 
for you, but you are good for him. You make him feel loved, 
protected, calm. He is solely devoted to you, something 
plainly obvious after this escapade with my sons. I spoke to 
them at length, and they told me how he refused both their 
advances, and those of another elf at their party. Whenever 
he spoke about leaving, my son’s told me that the prince 
would always say he had to return to *you*.” 
 
Thranduil refused to meet the Peredhel’s eyes. “It is just 
because of the bond. Legolas is feeling vulnerable after what 
has happened. It does not mean to say he is in love with 
me.” 
 
Elrond sighed, saddened. “Thranduil, please. I would not see 
you and your son live out the life that Elros and I were 
forced to endure. We tortured ourselves for nothing.” 
 
“The Valar,” Thranduil pointed out. “They would surely not 
approve.” 
 
Elrond pressed his fingers together. “No. They probably 
wouldn’t approve of a father lusting after his son. But they 
would not deny one elf loving another. We cannot help who 
we fall in love with. I think you and Legolas need to have a 
serious discussion about this. Or perhaps, I will see your son 
tomorrow, if you do not mind. Negotiations are pretty much 
at an end now, so I could spare the time to help Legolas 
sort out his feelings…?” 
 
Thranduil thought about this for a moment, frowning. 
“Okay… If Legolas wants to, you may speak with him, but I 
do not expect you to interrogate the boy.” 
 
Elrond smiled. “Of course not. Would *I* interrogate 
anyone?” 
 
Thranduil laughed. “Maybe I should ask your sons to answer 
that question. I’m sure after today, they’d have a thing or 
two to say about your interrogating.” 
 
Elrond laughed aloud. “I’m sure they would! But it’s their 
own fault. I think I should put some serious consideration 
into finding them each a wife, so they can stop harassing all 
the eligible young men who cross their path!” 
 
The two lords laughed at this, imagining how the twins 
would react upon learning they were to be wed to women. 
Thranduil finished the brandy in his glass, and then looked 
at the lord. 
 
“Thank you, Elrond. For confiding in me, and allowing me to 
do the same with you.” 
 
Elrond nodded. “I hope I have been of some help. I realise 
that your situation is difficult, but do not push Legolas away 
if he genuinely returns your affection. Let him love you, as 
you love him, if that is indeed the path you two shall take. 
Just do not make the same mistake Elros and I did, for it 
would surely destroy you both.” 
 
Thranduil gave a sad smile, and stood up. “Thank you.” 
 
Elrond also rose, and escorted Thranduil to the door. “Any 
time, meldir. Now go. You’re golden haired prince 
undoubtedly awaits you in his chambers.” 
 
Thranduil’s eyes widened, and he was about to ask how 
Elrond knew he slept in the same room as Legolas, but the 
Peredhel didn’t give him the chance. Elrond grinned, and 
pushed the king out the door, and then shut it behind him. 
 
Thranduil glared, and then began to laugh. 
 
 
t.b.c.  
Ada = Father  
Nin-iond = my son 
Arda = earth 
Nin-ind = my heart 
Peredhel = half elf 
Meldir = friend 
Conceptually Beta’d by Aliaself – Thank you, thank you, 
thank you, thank you! 
Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ 
Website: 
http://www.lotrfanfiction.com/viewuser.php?uid=198  
Art page: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bonys_art/ 
Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au



‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna 
~Part 17~ 
 
Legolas woke up the next morning feeling deliciously warm, 
and yet oddly light-headed. His father lay snuggled up close 
behind him, one arm wrapped possessively about his waist, 
the king’s lips pressed against the top of his head. As 
Legolas became more fully conscious of his surroundings, 
however, he soon realised what was causing him to feel so 
giddy and heated. 
 
He was sporting a painfully hard erection. 
 
Legolas blushed in embarrassment, grateful that his father 
was still asleep and behind him, unable to see him in his 
current state. Legolas tried to wish it away, but the ache in 
his loins continued to pulse unbearably. In the end, Legolas 
discreetly crawled out of bed, and locked himself inside the 
adjoining bathroom. 
 
Standing over the toilet, Legolas undid the laces of his 
pants, and hissed as his hard, throbbing member sprang 
free. His mind still foggy with sleep and desire, Legolas 
began to bring himself to completion, thinking of his father. 
 
He pressed his other arm against the wall to support 
himself, and bowed his head, images of his father kissing 
him, touching him, holding him, making love to him flashed 
in his mind’s eye as his fingers danced over his aching flesh. 
 
Legolas gasped and then bit his bottom lip, wanting to 
remain quiet in case his father heard. He began to pump 
himself harder, faster, as he remembered his first night with 
his father, when the king had mistaken him for Malthenfin. 
Remembered how Thranduil had teased him to the brink 
over and over, and how he wanted to beg his father to end 
the pleasurable torment, if only he had not been gagged. 
 
He remembered coming back from death’s door, only to find 
his father moving in and out of him gently, tenderly, his 
father’s swollen member sliding in and out of his tight 
passage, their hands clasped lovingly, and how they had 
both brought him to climax together with their hands on his 
burning length… 
 
Legolas stifled a cry as his member twitched and he came 
hard in the bathroom. He stood there, unmoving, waiting for 
his breathing to even, and then he realised what he had just 
done. 
 
He had brought himself to climax, using images of his 
*father*. 
 
Legolas sobbed and sunk to the floor, resting his forehead 
on the seat of the toilet. /Oh gods!/ he thought pitifully. 
/What is wrong with me?/ 
 
He continued to cry softly, bitterly, and wrapped one arm 
about his middle in a futile attempt to comfort himself. What 
he had done was wrong. So terribly wrong. He knew that his 
feelings towards his father had changed somewhat, ever 
since the king had bound to him – no, even before then, 
ever since that night his father had first taken him. He had 
not, however, expected to fall *in love* with his father. It 
was wrong. Forbidden. Unforgivable. 
 
Yet it was true. He had tried denying it before by never 
questioning his feelings, but now that he did, he realised the 
awful truth. He was in love with a man he should never love 
in such a way. This was even worse than being taken 
unwillingly by his father. This was blasphemous.  
 
Legolas began crying harder, rocking himself gently as he 
realised his love could never come to bloom. Oh gods, he 
loved his father *so* much. He loved how Thranduil smiled 
at him whenever he came into sight. He loved his father’s 
gentle sense of humour. He loved his Ada’s soft scent, which 
Legolas would bottle if he could. He loved how his father 
knew just how and when to kiss him. He loved how his 
father would reverently run his fingers through his soft 
golden hair as though it were the most precious thing on 
Arda. He loved how his father held him close at night, and 
knew just what to say or do to make him feel like the most 
special person that ever existed. He loved his father so 
much it hurt, and yet he knew it could never be. Thranduil 
would never let him bind to his Ada in turn. Legolas was 
doomed to spend the rest of his life loving a man he could 
never have. And that was an awfully bitter pill to swallow by 
one so young. 
 
A light tapping came from the door, followed by Thranduil’s 
soft inquiry of, “Legolas, nin-iond? Are you alright?” 
 
Legolas gasped softly and quickly tried to compose himself 
so that he could answer in a clear voice. “I’m fine, Ada.” 
 
There was a hesitant pause from the other side of the door, 
and then Thranduil said gently, “Do you want to talk about 
it?” 
 
Legolas slumped as he realised his father must have heard 
him crying, and also sensed some of his feelings through 
their bond. How much did the king know? It didn’t really 
matter, Legolas decided, there was no hope for him now. 
 
“You’d better get ready, Ada,” Legolas said in a dead tone. 
“You’ll be late for negotiations otherwise.” 
 
The prince could hear his father hesitate, and then sigh 
resignedly. Noise came from the bedroom as Thranduil 
prepared himself for today’s council, and after a few 
minutes, Legolas heard the king leave the bedroom. 
 
“I’m sorry, Ada,” the prince whispered to the empty room. 
“I’m so sorry I love you, but you do not make it easy for me 
not too.” 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
A bit after lunchtime, Legolas found the perfect distraction 
from his confusing and upsetting feelings. Glorfindel. 
 
He was sitting on the grass outside the Last Homely House, 
plucking at the lawn while lost in his thoughts, when the 
great golden lord marched right up to him, and plopped 
himself down next to the young prince. 
 
Legolas was quite surprised, and smiled back shyly when 
the warrior gave him a great, beaming grin. 
 
“How are you today, Master Legolas?” Glorfindel asked 
cheerily, looking up at the blue sky as if to check whether 
the sunny climate was to his satisfaction. 
 
“I am well, Lord Glorfindel,” Legolas replied timidly, looking 
at the lord with something akin to awe. “Have the peace 
talks finished early today?” 
 
Glorfindel shook his head and pulled out a small box from 
his tunic. “Nay, little one. However, the negotiations *are* 
nearing the end. My sweet Erestor, and that councillor of 
yours – Isty-whatever – are putting the last finishing 
touches to the treaty. I imagine it should be finished early 
tomorrow, so I did not think they needed my expert advice 
anymore. I certainly don’t plan on staying in that stuffy 
room longer than I have to, not when there are more 
pleasurable things to be doing.” 
 
“Like what?” Legolas asked, perplexed. 
 
“Like teaching you how to play cards,” Glorfindel announced 
triumphantly, and then opened the small box in his hands, 
and began dealing out a set of cards. 
 
Legolas stared at the cards with baffled amazement for a 
few moments, and then broke out into laughter. 
 
Of course, Glorfindel’s definition of ‘playing’ cards meant 
cheating outrageously, and soon the two blond elves were 
having a joyous time, the elder teaching the younger all the 
tricks of the trade of how to win by the most scandalous 
means. 
 
This was how Elrond found them when he came an hour or 
so later. Legolas looked up when he sensed someone’s 
approach, and was almost disappointed to see that it was 
the Lord of Imladris. He assumed Elrond had come to collect 
Glorfindel for some task or other, but Legolas was having 
such a good time, and wished the Golden Lord could stay. 
 
“Hello Glorfindel, Legolas,” Elrond greeted, nodding his 
head.  
 
“Rondy,” Glorfindel greeted cheekily with a giant grin. 
Elrond rolled his eyes. 
 
“I hope you’re not corrupting our young guest here?” Elrond 
asked, and Glorfindel put on a show of looking offended. 
 
“My lord! How could you ever insinuate such a thing against 
me?” 
 
“Quite easily, actually,” Elrond replied, and Legolas couldn’t 
help but laugh. 
 
Glorfindel looked at the laughing prince, and then threw his 
hand of cards up in the air. “Alas, I am outnumbered!” he 
declared tragically, as his cards fell about him like oversized 
confetti. This only made Legolas laugh harder, and 
Glorfindel looked thoroughly pleased with himself. 
 
“You are a poor influence on the youth, Glorfindel,” Elrond 
said, although the corner of his lips were turned up with 
amusement. 
 
Glorfindel shrugged and grinned. “So, what do you want, 
Elrond?” 
 
“The boy, actually,” Elrond replied, and Legolas’ mirth 
quickly fled as he looked at the raven haired lord in 
confusion. 
 
“Me, my lord?” 
 
“Yes. If you don’t mind, I was wondering if I could have a 
private word with you. I think the negotiations can carry on 
fine without me for the time being.” 
 
Legolas suddenly felt his stomach twist in apprehension, and 
he flashed Glorfindel a glance that was almost pleading. 
 
Elrond saw this, and tried to smile compassionately. “It is 
alright, young prince, I do not bite. And I have already 
asked your father if it would be alright to talk with you. He 
has given his consent.” 
 
Legolas felt some of his worry disappear at this. Surely his 
father would not hand him over to Elrond if he were afraid 
that the raven lord might start asking awkward questions. 
 
“Will you follow me?” Elrond asked. 
 
“Of course,” Legolas replied, still a little uncertain. He 
thanked Glorfindel for his company, and as a spur of the 
moment thought, gave the blond lord an open invitation to 
visit Mirkwood whenever he could spare the time. Glorfindel 
grinned and accepted the offer graciously. Then Legolas 
followed Elrond as the Peredhel led him back inside the large 
house. 
 
Legolas was led along many corridors until they reached 
Elrond’s office. Inside, the raven lord offered the boy a seat 
opposite his desk. Legolas sat down, trying not to look as 
nervous as he felt.  
 
“Would you like something to drink?” Elrond asked 
courteously. 
 
The prince shook his head, and so Elrond only poured 
himself a small glass of brandy. The raven haired lord than 
sat down in his chair, and started swirling the drink about in 
his glass. 
 
“Do you know that I once had a brother, Legolas?” the lord 
asked casually. 
 
Legolas blinked, not sure where Elrond was leading the 
conversation. “I believe you had a twin brother... Elros?” he 
said uncertainly. 
 
Elrond looked up at the prince and smiled warmly. “Yes. 
Your father has taught you well, I see.” 
 
Legolas blushed slightly, though he didn’t know why. His 
stomach still fluttered with butterflies, and his apprehension 
was only growing as the strange conversation continued, 
seemingly going nowhere. 
 
“Elros and I were twins, yes, much like Elladan and Elrohir. 
However, something happened between my brother and I 
that shouldn’t have happened.” 
 
Elrond paused, and after a few moments, Legolas asked 
hesitantly, “*What* happened, my lord?” 
 
Elrond gave a bitter smile. “We fell in love, and so he died 
because we tried to deny it.” 
 
Legolas’ blood seemed to freeze in his veins, and his breath 
suddenly wouldn’t come to him. He was deathly scared now, 
and very confused. “M-my lord?” Why was Elrond telling him 
this? 
 
Elrond laughed softly, although there was little humour to 
the sound. “You do not have to look so frightened, Legolas. 
I merely thought I might share my story with you of how my 
brother and I fell in love, because it might give you some 
comfort for what you are going through with your father.” 
 
Legolas became rigid, his body stiff, and his hands gripped 
the arms of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. 
Elrond and the boy continued to stare at each other for a 
minute, neither daring to move or speak, each trying to 
gauge the other. Then Legolas suddenly leapt up, heading 
for the door to try and make a quick escape, not wanting to 
have this conversation. 
 
Elrond, however, was surprisingly faster, and put a hand on 
the door to prevent Legolas from leaving. “Please,” he 
implored softly, “I have already talked to your father, and 
he has admitted that he bound himself to you in order to 
save you from fading.” 
 
Legolas felt tears pricking the back of his eyes, and he 
couldn’t help feeling somewhat betrayed. Elrond continued 
to stare at him, trying to read his reactions, and Legolas 
began to tremble in shock and fear, never having thought 
he would have to talk about such things with the Lord of 
Imladris. 
 
“No,” Legolas whispered softly, his voice trembling with 
emotion. “Ada’s s-scar is from b-binding with Nanneth, a-
and mine is –” 
 
“A hunting accident?” Elrond said, smiling sympathetically 
when Legolas’ eyebrows rose in surprise. Tears began to 
escape the boy’s eyes as he finally realised that Elrond knew 
the whole truth. 
 
“Yes,” the raven elf said softly. “There’s no need to protect 
your secret anymore, neth-pen. Do not be afraid. Please, 
why don’t you take a seat, dilthen-pen, and we’ll talk about 
this. I only want to help.” 
 
Elrond guided Legolas back into his chair, and then handed 
the softly weeping prince a freshly poured glass of brandy. 
The boy accepted it without debate, and took a shaky sip, 
then screwed his nose up as the liquid burnt his throat. 
 
“Why don’t you listen for a moment,” Elrond suggested 
quietly. “I will tell you about Elros and myself, and maybe 
then you’ll understand why I want to help.” 
 
Legolas nodded numbly, and so Elrond retold the same story 
he had to Thranduil the previous day. About how he and 
Elros had been in love, but his brother had feared acting 
upon that love, and in the end, thinking he was doing the 
right thing and protecting them both, Elros had chosen 
mortality and moved out of Elrond’s reach forever. 
 
By the end, a few tears were still running down the boy’s 
cheeks, but they were in sympathy of Elrond’s pain now, not 
his own. “That’s awful,” he said quietly. 
 
“Yes, it was,” Elrond admitted sadly. “But it is done now, 
and nothing can be changed. Elros has been long dead.” 
 
Legolas sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes. Elrond 
smiled at the boy affectionately, and was beginning to 
understand how easy it was for Thranduil to lose his heart to 
such a child; why his own sons had tried to make the prince 
theirs as well, and why even Glorfindel sought out the boy’s 
company (although Elrond knew the Balrog slayer’s 
intentions were far more honourable than the twins, despite 
his mischievous character). Glorfindel had always been fond 
of children. He liked to become their champions, and to 
make them laugh. It was a shame the blond oaf had fallen 
for Erestor in some ways, because it meant he would never 
have any children of his own. 
 
Elrond sighed, and shook his head, coming back from his 
musings. “So you see Legolas, Elros and I suffered greatly 
because we knew no better. However, over the many 
centuries he and I have been parted, I have thought about 
our relationship often, and have come to realise that what 
we did was not the best solution to our problems. Which is 
why, when I realised that you and your father are going 
through something similar, I wanted to step in and offer my 
advice. It was too late for us, but it is not for you and 
Thranduil.” 
 
Legolas nodded, at last believing the sincerity of Elrond’s 
words. “You don’t want the past to be repeated,” he said, 
almost to himself. 
 
“Exactly,” Elrond replied, looking relieved that the prince 
understood. “But first we need to sort a few things out. Tell 
me honestly, Legolas. How do you feel about your father; 
how do you love him?” 
 
Legolas blushed slowly, remembering the small fiasco this 
morning when he had woken up hard in his father’s arms. 
“I…” he started to say, but then blushed an even darker 
shade of crimson, and looked away, embarrassed. 
 
Elrond laughed softly, understanding the boy’s dilemma. 
“Are you in love with him, Legolas?” he asked simply. 
 
Legolas’ forehead screwed up into a frown, and for a 
moment, Elrond thought the youth was going to deny it. 
Then Legolas sighed, closed his eyes tightly, and admitted in 
a small voice, “Yes. I mean – I think so. I’ve–I’ve never 
been in love before, so–so I’m not *totally* sure…” he gave 
Elrond a helpless look. 
 
Elrond smiled sympathetically. “Why do you think you love 
him, Legolas?” 
 
Legolas fidgeted in his chair, and played with the brandy 
glass in his hands. “My-my feelings, I think, started to 
change after-after the night Ada… took me by accident, but 
I think they changed dramatically after Ada bound to me 
several nights after.” 
 
Elrond nodded, and remained silent so that Legolas could 
continue without interruption. “I-I don’t know why I love 
him,” Legolas said, starting to get upset and frustrated. “I 
just know that I *do*. I *hate* it when I’m not near him, 
and when I am, I *hate* it even more if I can’t touch him in 
some way – or him me. I love how his voice soothes me, 
and his hands, and his smile. When he holds me and kisses 
me, it just feels so right, and…” Legolas trailed off, realising 
that for a moment he had forgotten he was even talking to 
anyone. When he saw Elrond looking at him intently, he 
blushed, and looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered 
meekly. “He kisses me, sometimes, even though he doesn’t 
want me to bind to him.” 
 
“Your father is also confused about his feelings,” Elrond said 
softly. 
 
“I know it’s wrong,” Legolas mumbled bleakly. 
 
Elrond shook his head. “Do not say that, Legolas. It is not 
up to us to decide what is wrong or right when our hearts 
have already chosen for us.” 
 
Legolas sobbed quietly. “What good is that?!” he asked 
miserably. “Ada does not love me in *that* way. The only 
reason he made love to me the first time is because he 
thought I was someone else, and the second time he did so 
because I would have died otherwise. He has already told 
me that he will not let me bind to him – at least not for 
many years yet. But I will surely fade again before that day 
comes, being so close to him, and yet knowing I can never 
truly have him!” 
 
Legolas dropped his glass and bent over, sobbing hard into 
his hands. Elrond, startled, quickly got up and walked 
around to comfort the boy. He wrapped the youth in his 
arms and rocked the prince, while speaking soothing words. 
 
“Hush, Legolas, shhh. It’s not as bad as you think, dilthen-
pen, I promise. You are young, and over dramatising 
everything.” 
 
“I don’t understand!” Legolas sobbed against Elrond’s 
shoulder. “Why do I love *him*? Why did it have to be 
*him*, my own *father*?!” 
 
“I don’t know, lend-hên,” Elrond said gently, petting the 
boy’s golden hair. “I do not know why the Valar put these 
tests in our lives, but they do. The question should not be 
‘why him’, but ‘what do I do now’. You may never know why 
it is you love your father the way you do, but the only thing 
that will make a difference is how you act on your love. 
Please, lend-pen, when you make your decision, remember 
Elros and me.” 
 
Legolas nodded, his crying subsided. “Thank you, Lord 
Elrond,” he said quietly. 
 
They pulled back slightly, and Elrond gave the boy an 
encouraging smile. “Answer me one last question, Legolas. 
If Thranduil asked you to bind to him, would you do it?” 
 
“In a second,” Legolas replied calmly, without hesitation. 
 
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Even though it would mean 
making love to your Ada?” 
 
Legolas blushed, never really having thought about that 
before. He took a moment to ponder the concept. At first he 
tried to imagine himself taking his father fervently and hard, 
claiming him in lust, but the image seemed strange, even 
wrong. Then he thought about slowly making *love* to the 
king… kissing him gently, affectionately. Keeping eye 
contact as much as possible; reverent touches; showing his 
father how much he loved him in actions, as well as words. 
Slow, wonderful, and passionate love-making. Legolas 
smiled softly at the thought, and knew if the opportunity 
presented itself, he could do that. That he would even *like* 
to do that. 
 
Elrond watched as the youth’s face flickered with various 
emotions, and by the end, as the boy smiled wistfully, he 
had his answer without a single word being exchanged. 
 
“If love is there, Legolas, that is all you need,” Elrond said 
softly. 
 
Legolas looked up, coming out of his musings, and smiled 
gratefully. “Thank you for talking with me.” 
 
Elrond smiled back. “Anything to prevent love turning into 
pain.” 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
That night, Thranduil had been a bit hesitant to make his 
way towards his son’s room. He knew that Legolas and 
Elrond had talked, but he did not know how his son had 
taken it, and he also remembered how Legolas had been 
upset and confused by his feelings this morning, and locked 
himself in the bathroom. 
 
When Legolas opened the door after Thranduil tentatively 
tapped upon it, he was relieved when his son gave him a 
great, beaming smile, and pulled him inside before anyone 
could see. 
 
Thranduil opened his mouth to ask how his son’s day had 
been, but Legolas quickly put his finger over the king’s lips 
and shook his head. “Not tonight, Ada,” he said with a soft 
smile. “I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed.” 
 
Thranduil nodded, a little surprised, but began to strip off 
his outer clothing. He slipped into bed first, and Legolas 
quickly followed. Thranduil was further startled when his son 
snuggled right up close against him, face to face, and gave 
his father a loving smile. 
 
“Good night, Ada,” he said softly. 
 
“Good night, Legolas,” the king said, somewhat bemused. 
 
And then Legolas kissed him. 
 
Thranduil was so shocked he didn’t even think to react. It 
was a quick chaste kiss, but tender and loving nonetheless. 
His son had never taken the initiative to kiss him before, 
and the king didn’t know whether to be delighted or 
concerned that the boy had done so now. Legolas, however, 
looked quite pleased with himself, and tucked himself up 
closer against his father, and then drifted off to sleep. 
 
Thranduil lay there for a good while longer, but soon the call 
for sleep was too strong, and with a protective hand 
wrapped about his child, he fell into slumber. 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
The next day, everyone was congregated in the council 
room to witness the signing of the new peace treaty 
between Mirkwood and Rivendell. Erestor and Istidhren wore 
rather disgruntled expressions on their faces, as both had 
been overruled to prolong the peace debates any further. 
The two advisors had wanted to work out nit-picky little 
details for a few more days yet, but Thranduil and Elrond 
wouldn’t hear of it. Both lords knew how important this 
treaty was, and the specific details were rather trivial to the 
whole matter. All that was relevant was that Mirkwood 
would come to Rivendell’s aid if ever it needed help, and 
Rivendell would return the favour. There would be safe 
passage between both realms for any elf, as well as free 
trade. It was the best and most simplified truce ever signed 
for a long time in the history of Arda. 
 
With that done, Thranduil announced that he and his honour 
guard would leave for home on the morrow. Legolas didn’t 
know whether to be pleased or sad at that news. He had 
become quite fond of Glorfindel, and especially loved 
watching the lord tease his dark-haired lover. He had fallen 
in love with Rivendell itself, and he didn’t even mind lord 
Elrond all that much now either. Even the twins had been 
civil ever since their father had talked to them. But Legolas 
also missed his own brothers, and his home. He also knew 
that when they returned to Mirkwood, it would give himself 
and his father better time and privacy to sort out their own 
relationship. Legolas was determined now, after his talk with 
Elrond, to not give up easily on his father. 
 
Thranduil and Legolas spent the day together, the king’s 
arm wrapped about his son’s waist. The prince showed his 
father all the wonders of Rivendell he had discovered for 
himself on his private explorations. They talked about trivial 
things, but they enjoyed the time together immensely, 
revelling in the fact that the other was so close. 
 
Later in the day, Glorfindel approached them, towing Erestor 
along behind. The raven haired advisor carried a picnic 
basket in his hands, and after a nudge from the blond 
Balrog slayer, asked father and son if they’d care to join 
them for lunch. 
 
The four then wiled away a few hours, nibbling on bits of 
food, and playing a game of cards. Glorfindel was doing 
remarkably well of course, for all his cheating, although 
Legolas was touched to notice that he alone was spared. In 
turn, Legolas didn’t cheat against the warrior, but then he 
didn’t want to play unfairly against his father either. That 
only left Erestor. At first, the prince didn’t cheat against him 
as well, but he soon discovered that Erestor was doing as 
well as Glorfindel, and in the end, used his new skills to try 
and win some points his way. He wondered if the Golden 
Lord had taught his lover how to cheat at cards as well, and 
flashed the blond an inquiring glance. 
 
When Thranduil and Erestor were distracted, Glorfindel leant 
over to the young prince. “I know what you’re thinking, 
little-one, and no, I did not teach him how to ‘play’ cards. 
He just has an unnatural gift. It must be his shrewd, 
advisor’s mind.” The lord gave the advisor a disgusted look, 
and rolled his eyes at Legolas. “Why do you think I had to 
learn how to cheat in the first place? I couldn’t have my 
dear, sweet Erestor showing me up in a game of cards, 
could I?” 
 
Legolas had to cover his mouth to stifle a giggle, and 
Glorfindel gave him a grin and a wink. 
 
Dinner that night was also enjoyable. There was much wine 
consumed (most of it by Glorfindel), and everyone had a 
good time. Even Elladan and Elrohir, although somewhat 
subdued, were still friendly and pleasant company for the 
prince. All in all, the day had been most joyful. 
 
It was a shame the night had to be so bitter... 
 
 
t.b.c.  
Ada = Father  
Arda = earth 
Nin-iond = my son 
Peredhel = half elf 
Nanneth = mother  
Dilthen pen = little one 
Neth pen = young one 
Lend hên = sweet child 
Lend pen = sweet one 
Conceptually Beta’d by Aliaself – Thank you, thank you, 
thank you, thank you! 
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