Title: Winds of War, 11/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil, Legolas, Rúmil, Haldir, Galen (OMC) Rating: NC-17 Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. Summary: Galen and Rúmil finally consummate their new relationship. The Council of Elrond meets and Erestor expresses frustration. Elladan and Elrohir object to the choice of Fellowship members. The series of mishaps that had preceded the evening's events would have been laughable were they not so inconvenient, not to mention uncomfortable. First had come the unfortunate demise of their dinner when Galen dropped the basket in an effort to catch the small pouch of eggs Rúmil was carrying between his teeth as he climbed the ladder to his talan using only his good arm. The basket fell, the lid popped open, and the various small creatures that populated a tree city fell upon the bounty as if it were a gift from the heavens, which it was. Then came the breakage of the eggs as Galen dropped them in an effort to catch his soon-to-be lover when the uppermost rung of the ladder gave way and Rúmil was left without a handhold. The final, crushing blow had come when Galen miraculously caught Rúmil with only one arm, only to drop him again as he lost his own grip. Fortunately for both Rúmil and Galen, Rúmil's two brothers were there to break their fall. Unfortunately for Galen, Orophin was not quite substantial enough and he ended up with a badly sprained ankle; Orophin ended up with a broken nose and sprained wrist. Rúmil landed safely in Haldir's rather substantial arms and both he and his elder brother escaped unscathed. A week had passed, Rúmil was now fully healed, Galen nearly so, and both were more than ready to pick up where they left off. Galen hobbled up the ladder to Rúmil's talan with Rúmil following closely behind. "I do not understand why we could not just meet at your talan. If we had, we would not be contending with these stairs," Rúmil said as he kept one hand and one eye on his soon to be lover. "I like your talan better," Galen answered. "It is more private." Rúmil watched as Galen carefully hoisted himself up onto the platform and regained his feet. He followed, pausing only long enough to make a thorough perusal of Galen's mouth with his own before opening the door. Tugging upon his young lover's hand, he invited Galen inside and latched the door behind them. "I have been looking forward to this for a very, very long time," Rúmil said in a husky murmur. Galen slid his hand behind Rúmil's neck and arched into his embrace. "It has been but a week." "It has felt like an eternity," Rúmil answered, his lips caressing Galen's neck. He slid his hand inside Galen's tunic and caressed a rapidly rising nipple with his thumb. "Your heart beats like a frightened doe's." "Valar," Galen whispered, as Rúmil's thumb rubbed his nipple into a hard and sensitive peak. "Do you fear me?" Rúmil murmured, his tongue sliding up the curve of Galen's ear. "N…no," Galen stammered, his length hardening quickly inside his leggings. "Then why do you tremble?" Rúmil's voice was thick and smoky with lust. "No one has ever touched me this way," Galen whispered. "Do you like it?" Rúmil purred. "Yes, oh, yes." "Your innocence is intoxicating," Rúmil whispered huskily. He deftly slipped Galen's tunic from his body. He licked Galen's chest in one long, slow stroke. The moan that escaped Galen caused his arousal to twitch inside his leggings. "Mmm… untouched flesh. There is nothing like it…" Galen was both surprised and aroused by this predatory side of his friend. He had no inclination that Rúmil would be so aggressive and sensual. "What are you going to do to me?" he whispered. "As many things as you can bear," Rúmil answered. Galen's grip tightened on Rúmil's shoulders. "Will it. . . hurt?" Rúmil looked into Galen's eyes and watched his face flush in embarrassment. His expression changed and he gently caressed Galen's face. "I promise you, I will not harm you. It always hurts a little the first few times, but it is also very pleasurable." He cocked his head and caressed Galen's lips with his thumb. "If you are not ready, I will understand…" Galen closed his eyes and let go of his fear. "I am ready," he answered softly. "I want you…" He took Rúmil's thumb into his mouth and suckled it. Rúmil leaned in close, his lips caressing Galen's cheek as he whispered, "You are precious to me, Galen. I will always protect you…" "Love me, Rúmil," Galen whispered. "Make love to me…" Rúmil sighed. "I will, my treasure." He lifted Galen into his arms and carried him into his bedchamber. * * * * "Do not do this." Elrohir held onto his composure by a thread. His father had refused to hear him and Elladan, and now Legolas was refusing as well. "Your father chose me, Elrohir. It is my duty to our kind and to my people," Legolas answered. "You are running away!" Elrohir shouted. "You cannot run from what haunts you, Legolas!" Elladan placed his hand on his twin's shoulder. "Elrohir…" Legolas shook his head and turned his back. Elrohir reached out and turned him back around. "Do not turn your back on me!" "I cannot be near him and not touch him! I cannot be near him and not have him! We cannot be like the two of you; we cannot run off into the wild to be together…" Legolas pulled away from Elrohir and stalked back into the Last Homely House. Elrohir made to follow, but Elladan caught him. "Leave him be, Elrohir. He needs to do this. You cannot, I cannot protect him." "I do not want him to die, Elladan," Elrohir answered softly. Elladan embraced his twin. "I know, nor do I. He is strong; he is a skilled warrior. Besides, he will be with Mithrandir, who loves him dearly, and with Estel. No harm will come to him." "We should be going. We should be protecting him." "Father would not allow Glorfindel to go either. He knows best, Elrohir. He must know what we do not." Elladan cradled Elrohir's head against his shoulder. "They leave upon the morrow. We cannot let him leave with this between us." "We will go to him tonight, I will apologize. Perhaps he will give us one last night together." "It will not be the last, Elrohir." "Yes, it will. I can see it in his eyes. Whether he lives or dies, this will be the last night we lie together as lovers. He is withdrawing into himself, Elladan. Soon, the only love he feels will be in his own heart – the love he yearns for, with the one he can never have." Elladan guided Elrohir from the terrace and out into the woods so that they could be alone in their grief. * * * * "This is ludicrous. He has finally lost his wits. Four hobbits, a wizard, two men, a dwarf and an elf prince. All nine of them against the hosts of Mordor and Isengard. What has become of the wisdom of Elrond?" Erestor paced the floor of their sitting room. "Erestor…" "What in Eru's name is he thinking? Sending the Ring with that band of misfits? You saw the way Boromir looked at the Ring; he is already suspect. Estel, Legolas, Mithrandir and Gimli cannot defend Frodo against the host of Sauron. Estel may be a Númenorian, but he is only one man. Gimli is no doubt a stouthearted warrior, but he is only one dwarf. Legolas has never seen war, not as we have. Our entire army could not defend Frodo against the host of Sauron. It must be hidden…" "Erestor…" "I believe that the grief he suffers over the loss of Celebrían has finally caused him to lose his wits…" "Erestor!" "What?" "Sit down and stop ranting for a moment." Erestor flopped into a large, over stuffed chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Lord Elrond is right. We could never conceal the Ring from Sauron. He will not rest until he finds it, and too few of us remain to wage war. Rohan is ravaged, Gondor is weak, and everyday more men from the south join Sauron's forces. The days of the Last Alliance are over. Unless the Ring is destroyed, Sauron's war machine will roll over this valley and destroy every last living thing. Thranduil's realm will be the first to fall, and Legolas knows it. He is doing his duty as prince; he is doing his duty as his father's son. Gimli knows his own people cannot hide in the hills forever. How long will it be until the yrch breeding beneath the mountains find them? Boromir is desperate to save his people; he, more than most, understands the threat to all free peoples. It is time, my love. It is time for us to make a stand in the only way we can." Erestor turned his tear filled eyes to Glorfindel. "By sending nine good souls to their deaths?" "Better to die on one's feet than on one's knees…" "That may yet happen." Glorfindel sank to his knees and took Erestor's hands in his own. "Have faith, my love. Have faith in the strength of a hobbit's purity. Have faith in the wisdom of a wizard. Have faith in the will of a prince; have faith in the destiny of a king and the tenacity of a dwarf." He kissed Erestor's hands. "This world will yet survive, with or without our help." "I want to go home," Erestor answered softly. "We will, my love, we will." Erestor cradled Glorfindel's head in his lap as he watched Anor sink into the West. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 12/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Khylaren Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. Summary: Galen and Rúmil finally find time alone together. The twins and Legolas spend one last night together. Galen lifted his hips, allowing Rúmil to slide his leggings off his body. Every inch of his skin was raised in goose flesh and he was trembling, despite his best attempts to remain calm. While in many ways, Galen was older than his years, but when it came to the ways of love, he was as innocent as an elfling. Yes, there had been fumbling touches and awkward kisses with those his own age when he reached his majority, but Rúmil was experienced; he had never lain with one like Rúmil before. He watched as Rúmil deftly tossed his leggings over the back of the rocker that he had spent so many nights in as of late. He wadded the bedcovers in his damp fists as Rúmil removed his own tunic and leggings, then he watched his lover mount the bed. Rúmil crawled to him slowly, his predatory gaze fixing Galen where he lay. In some ways, Galen felt like a doe trapped by a wolf, in other ways he felt like a god that was about to be worshipped. Rúmil paused near his feet. His sprained ankle was still wrapped tightly and Galen shivered as Rúmil's fingers caressed it. He watched as Rúmil dipped his mouth to his uninjured ankle, then proceeded to slowly make his way from his feet to his lap with his mouth. Galen could not stop the whimpering moan that escaped him. Rúmil's lips felt so good, his tongue so warm and wet. Each kiss, each lick caused him to tremble and quake until he was nearly shaking with need. Rúmil's hot breath ghosted over his aching arousal, and Galen cried out when his lover pressed his mouth to his stomach, that hot, wet tongue delving into his navel. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Galen plunged his hands into Rúmil's silky, silver hair, wadding it in his fingers as he squirmed beneath him. "Yes, Valar yes…" he whispered as Rúmil's mouth consumed his chest, his lover's tongue and teeth working his nipples into painfully erect peaks. He wrapped his uninjured leg around his lover and ground their hips together, seeking contact in any way he could. "Patience," Rúmil murmured against Galen's neck. "Pleasure is best when savored, my treasure." "I cannot," Galen gasped. "I want you so badly; I cannot wait…" Rúmil pressed Galen to the bed using the length of his body. He remained still, gazing into Galen's eyes until his young lover ceased his movement. "Ssshhh…." He whispered against Galen's lips. "Let me show you the way, my lover." Galen fought back tears; he was both overwhelmed and desperate. He closed his eyes and swallowed, then took a deep breath and willed his body to relax. "Yes," Rúmil said. "Just relax and let go, Galen. Let me take care of you." Galen relaxed his grip on Rúmil, allowing his hands to slide from his hair to his back. He concentrated on the sensations that flooded him: the wet warmth of Rúmil's mouth upon his ear, the solidity of his lover's body, the heat that bloomed between them. He explored Rúmil's lean and muscular back, his fingers memorizing each ripple and contour of muscle. "I love you," he whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking. "And I love you," Rúmil answered. "We are lovers now, Galen," he whispered. "You belong to me, and I belong to you. I will always protect you." Galen smiled and buried his face in Rúmil's neck, his lips and his tongue mimicking his tutor's actions upon his ear. His heart leaped when Rúmil purred with approval, and his hands slid down Rúmil's long back. His fingers splayed wide, his hands dipped into the curve of Rúmil's lower back, then slid over the fine silk of his loincloth to grasp the firm, round globes of his lover's buttocks. ‘Slowly,' he told himself, ‘have patience…' Working on instinct, he slowly kneaded the muscled flesh of Rúmil's backside and earned a low growl of approval from his lover. He dug his fingers in as Rúmil took the tip of his ear into his mouth and suckled it. "Sweet Elbereth," he whispered hoarsely. There had been others that had attempted this same action, but none had ever come close to executing it even half as well as Rúmil. Sharp pangs of desire stabbed at his core, and his already turgid length began to twitch and swell inside his loincloth. "I do not know how much more I can take," he whispered hoarsely. Rúmil's mouth left his ear and hovered over his own. A sensual smile curved his lover's lips, causing his heart to increase its rhythm. "It is not how long you last, but how often you can rise to the occasion, my young lover," Rúmil replied with a wicked grin. Rúmil then claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. Galen moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth wide and giving freely to his lover. As Rúmil broke their kiss, he moved slowly, but steadily down his torso and Galen felt the strings holding his loincloth pop free. Closing his eyes and lifting his hips, he felt the thin strip of cloth slide away, leaving his aching arousal exposed to the cool autumn air. A shudder rolled through his body, and he arched his back, his legs falling open to expose himself to his lover's view. Rúmil gazed approvingly at his young lover. Galen had a beautiful body, unmarked by battle. It was long and lean, elegant in proportion; his alabaster flesh was stretched taut over lean archer's muscles, flushed pink with passion, and glowing with the sheen of perspiration. Everything about Galen was beautiful. Rúmil had come to realize that his spirit and his heart were beautiful over the course of their friendship, now the portrait was complete as he gazed upon Galen's graceful form. Lips, swollen and pink were parted slightly; his tongue would dart out every now and again, wetting their soft, pink surface. His eyes were closed; his long lashes seeming to caress his cheeks when his lids fluttered. His hair, tossed and wild from their foreplay, spilled out over his pillow, strands of gold glinting against a background of silver. Rúmil slid his hands up the length of Galen's thighs, his fingers splayed wide. "You are remarkable," he whispered sultrily. "So very beautiful…" Galen smiled as he began to undulate beneath his touch. Suddenly, Rúmil's need was every bit as strong as Galen's. He spread Galen's thighs wide, dipping his tongue to taste the soft flesh where leg met hip. He saw as much as felt the shudder that rippled through his lover's body. ‘There will be days and nights uncounted to discover all the things that make my lover tremble,' he told himself. ‘Now I must give him what he needs most.' Gently he took the base of Galen's length in his hand and dipped his mouth, his tongue lapping at the weeping tip. Galen gasped; the sharp, staccato intake of air breaking the silence of the room. ‘Never touched before, not like this,' Rúmil told himself, and he took his lover into his mouth. Galen immediately tried to thrust forward into the wet heat of Rúmil's mouth, but his lover held his hips firmly to the bed. He had never felt anything like it. He was enveloped in soft, wet heat; Rúmil's tongue caressed and wrapped around his arousal as his mouth slid up and down its length. Each pass, each sliding caress of his lover's tongue brought him closer. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he felt his body tighten and he cried out as his release as he spilled down his lover's throat. Rúmil licked him clean, lapping each precious drop of his lover's essence from his flesh. He watched Galen's chest rise and fall with each rapid breath as he slowly made his way up his lover's body to his mouth. He kissed Galen thoroughly, deeply, purring as his lover's long fingers combed his back. He pushed the damp hair away from Galen's face and smiled. "Now, was that not worth waiting for, lover?" he murmured. "Yes," Galen answered in a deep whisper. "Oh, yes…" Rúmil chuckled affectionately and nuzzled his young lover's mouth. "I suppose I should let you recover before we continue our lesson." "Why am I so sleepy all of the sudden?" Galen murmured. Rúmil chuckled again. "'Tis a common sensation, you will grow accustomed to it. Sleep, my lover, just for a little while." "But what about you?" Galen mumbled as he fought not to succumb to reverie. "I will be just fine," Rúmil said softly. "Will you stay with me?" Galen mumbled again. "Of course," Rúmil answered. He wrapped his arms around Galen and cradled his head upon his shoulder. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, he lay awake and listened to his young lover's soft, rhythmic breathing. * * * * As night fell in Imladris, Legolas found himself at the window again. This time, his thoughts drifted to the east, to the far east, as he contemplated the journey before him. He had just finished a letter to his father, explaining why he had to break his promise and not return home. His companions would return to Mirkwood in the morning, bearing the letter with them. They feared the king's reaction, but Legolas knew his father would not show them ill will. "I cannot afford to be weak," he whispered to himself. "I cannot show mercy, I cannot falter; I cannot stray from the path before me. If this is the last thing I ever do, I will go past the limits of my strength and endurance to accomplish it." He knew there was a very good chance he would not survive the quest; he also knew the chances of their success were slim at best. Yet, there comes a time when there are no good choices, no easy solutions; his father had taught him that. He may not survive to see this land live on, but he would not run and leave it to ruin. This world was his home, it was a part of him, and he would fight until his last breath left his body to defend it. Elladan and Elrohir arrived at Legolas' door. Elrohir looked to his elder twin, who nodded. He then entered Legolas' chamber without knocking. Crossing the room to where the prince stood, he came to his knees in front of him. "Forgive me," he said softly. "For what? Loving me?" Legolas asked. "For doubting you." Legolas reached down and pulled Elrohir to his feet. "I do not want to forgive you. I do not believe you meant what you said to sound the way it did; it was fear and pain that caused that." He caressed Elrohir's cheek. "Friends do not always say what we need them to, sometimes they tell us the truth even if we do not want to hear it." "I do not doubt your bravery or the strength of your convictions…" Legolas placed his fingers on Elrohir's lips, silencing him. "I know. But, you are right, Elrohir. I cannot run from what haunts me, nor can I have what I most desire. But, I can defend my lands, I can defend my people; I can do my duty both to myself and to my king. Perhaps we will succeed, perhaps not; but if we do not try, we are all doomed to death. My father will not leave his wood, nor will I. If we are to die, then we both want to die fighting." Elrohir nodded. "I understand your words, my dear Legolas. If it were Elladan and me, we would say the same thing." Elladan approached and stood behind Legolas. "Aye, what he says is true." Legolas turned and drew the twins into an embrace and held them tight. "Thank you, both. Thank you for your kindness, and thank you for your friendship and your love." "Lay with us this night," Elladan said softly. "Even if it is for the last time." Legolas smiled and nodded. "Aye, I will. Your touches and embraces will keep me warm over the long, cold nights to come." He closed his eyes and let down the wall that he had so carefully built around him. He allowed their touches, their kisses to warm his heart and his soul. Soon the wall would come back up, he knew, but for now, for this one night, he would allow himself to feel. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 13/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Khylaren Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. Summary: Rúmil continues to enjoy Galen. Galen woke after a short nap to find Rúmil asleep beside him. He lie in his lover's arms, facing him, Rúmil's perfect chin just within kissing range. A smile curved Galen's lips and he kissed that perfect chin, his tongue darting out and flicking against it. He watched as a smile curved Rúmil's luscious mouth, and he began to nibble on the soft flesh beneath Rúmil's jaw. Rúmil slid one leg over him and he moved closer, bringing their bodies into close contact. Moving his thigh between Rúmil's legs, he began to gently rub and press into his lover's groin. "Mmm…" Rúmil purred. "That feels delicious." "Does it?" Galen asked, his fingers exploring Rúmil's chest. "Yes," Rúmil answered, as he began to rock his hips in time with Galen's movement. "I want to give you pleasure, like you gave me, but I have never…" "There is always a first time, lover," Rúmil replied. His fingers began to gently massage Galen's scalp. "It is less about technique than it is about intent. You need not execute it perfectly; the pleasure I will receive is in the pleasure you feel in performing the act." Galen began to lick and nibble at Rúmil's chest. "Have you ever. . .choked?" "Of course, everyone has the first few times. If you have a lover who is not considerate, it can happen even when you know what you are doing." "I do not want that to happen," Galen whispered. "I want to please you…" "It will not, not if you go slowly and take the time to discover your own limits." Rúmil smiled and caressed Galen's hair. "Everything you do pleases me, Galen." "I know there are other delights that await, beyond what we have experienced. When do we attempt those?" Galen murmured against Rúmil's stomach. He smiled when he detected the difference in Rúmil's voice. "Soon, tonight perhaps; if you feel so inclined." Rúmil closed his eyes. His body was already responding to Galen's attentions, and he distractedly thought that they were quite good for one so inexperienced. He moaned softly as Galen's hand slid over the rise in his loincloth, the archer's talented fingers teasing him into full arousal. Galen untied his loincloth with his teeth; he could feel his warm breath enveloping his groin. Rolling to his back to give Galen freer access, he lifted his hips and spread his legs, allowing his lover to remove his undergarment. Galen gazed at Rúmil's turgid arousal with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Perfectly formed, it was a smooth, silky column of warm, living flesh. Not unaccustomed to touching himself, he approached Rúmil the same way, taking his arousal in his hand carefully, and slowly stroking it. Turning his head, he lapped at the soft pouch of skin that lay between Rúmil's legs, feeling it constrict at the touch of his tongue and hearing his lover moan in appreciation. "Oh yes," Rúmil answered in a smoky murmur. "That feels very good." Carefully, gently, Galen took the pouch into his mouth fully, rolling his tongue against it before releasing it. Rúmil arched beneath him and pulled his legs further apart. This made Galen smile. Rúmil was right; it was as much about the pleasure one's partner feels as it was about his own. The more aroused Rúmil became, the more pleasure Galen felt. Remembering hushed conversations amongst some of the new recruits, Galen gazed upon the puckered entrance to his lover's body. Licking the pad of his finger, he then placed it against the opening and rubbed gently. Rúmil's response was immediate; the action gave his lover even more pleasure. When he pressed upon it, he felt his lover's arousal twitch in his grip, and he slid his hand up his length to spread the fluid that leaked from the tip with his thumb. His own arousal was pressing into the bed, and Galen began to roll his hips forward slightly, enjoying the feel of the soft silk sliding against his length. Returning to his lover's engorged and weeping length, he began to lap at it with his tongue, savoring the slightly salty, slightly sweet taste of the viscous essence that was beginning to weep freely from it. Carefully, he took Rúmil's length into his mouth, taking care not to force too much at once. Remembering what Rúmil had done to him, he began working his mouth up and down his lover's arousal, using his tongue to caress and wrap the smooth, slick column of flesh. Rúmil held still, forcing his body to obey his command and resist the urge to thrust forward into Galen's delicious mouth. His pupil-turned-lover, showed a surprising amount of skill for one so young and inexperienced. Slowly, he began to rock his hips in time with Galen's action, shallowly thrusting into his mouth. Galen felt Rúmil's length begin to swell, and he heard his lover instruct him to swallow. He did, and felt his mouth fill with the hot seed that erupted from Rúmil's quivering length. Swallowing what he could, he then hungrily lapped up what had escaped and licked his lips before looking up at his lover. Rúmil looked utterly beautiful: his face was flushed and slightly damp, his mouth open, his delicious lips parted and begging to be kissed. Galen slid up Rúmil's hot, sweat- slicked body, the delicious slide of skin against skin causing his own desire to burn hotter. He took Rúmil's mouth in a searing kiss and ground against him as Rúmil pulled him roughly against him. Rúmil sucked at Galen's chin, removing any hint of his own essence, then moved to Galen's neck before rolling on top of him. "Are you ready for your next lesson?" he whispered hoarsely. Though he had found release, his desire was far from abated. Galen felt a nervous flutter in his stomach but immediately answered, "Yes. Take me." He wrapped his legs high around Rúmil's hips and thrust into him. Suddenly, he found he was consumed with the need to feel his lover inside him. Struggling to reach his bedside table, Rúmil retrieved the oil from the drawer, despite having Galen clinging to him like a drowning elf. His once shy and yielding lover was overcome with hungry desire, and Rúmil found himself hissing in pleasure as Galen's teeth sunk into his shoulder. His lover's fingers raked and clutched, his mouth bit and suckled, until Rúmil knew he would be covered in love marks. He was suddenly reminded of the first kiss he and Thranduil shared in Galadriel's garden, and he imagined this was how the king had felt. He remarked that the memory did not cause him pain; it was now a fond feeling that came to him when he thought about his kingly former lover. "Roll to your stomach," Rúmil commanded. Galen complied, as much from habit as from the urgent need he felt. "On your knees and spread them." Galen was poised on his hands and knees, his legs spread wide, his arousal standing hard against his stomach. He knew the initial sensation was going to be painful, but his need overrode any fear he might have felt. Rúmil's skilled hands slid over his back and hips, and then he felt an oiled finger caressing his entrance. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then exhaled as Rúmil's finger entered his body. The initial feeling was not as bad as he had anticipated. He clamped down hard on the invading digit and then slowly relaxed. There was a slight burn accompanied by a little pressure. He nodded his head when Rúmil asked if he was well, and then felt the finger begin to move. A little more burning, but it was tolerable, then came a sensation so intense that he cried out and bucked back against Rúmil's hand. Nothing, no words could have prepared him for what he felt. White-hot fire roared through his veins and his arousal jumped against his stomach. He felt Rúmil lean over him, then felt his warm breath upon his ear. "It feels good, does it not?" his lover's smoky voice murmured. "Valar, yes. . .again, please do it again," he pleaded. He cried out again and arched against Rúmil as his lover began to stroke the spot deep within him. "Sweet Elbereth," he groaned. "I am going to. . .to. . ." A keening cry spilled from his lips as he found release. He had never climaxed without aid of touch before. As his seed spilled from his body, Rúmil slid a second finger in, filling him and stroking that place unrelentingly. Wave after wave rolled through him, and no sooner than his climax ended, he was aroused again. Rúmil had three fingers inside him now, he felt very full, but not beyond bearing. His tutor had been right again, the pleasure he felt outweighed the discomfort. He rocked back against Rúmil's hand as his lover's fingers slid in and out of his body. Whimpering slightly as they were removed, he then braced himself for what he knew would be a much larger invasion. "Relax, Galen," Rúmil murmured into his ear. "Breathe and relax." Galen nodded, unable to find his voice to answer. Rúmil's length filled him slowly, and he tried to relax but was unable to prevent the tightening of his body. Breathing deeply and slowly, he fought the initial response to escape. Rúmil's hand wrapped around his aching and rigid length, and he concentrated on the delicious slide of his lover's fist rather than on the fierce burning pain. Soon, he began to relax, and Rúmil began to move, as he became more aroused, he relaxed even more and the pain dissipated and turned into pleasure. As Rúmil moved within him, he realized that it was as much about the sense of closeness and fulfillment he felt as it was about the pleasure. His lover, the one he cherished above all others was inside him, around him; it was as close as they could ever be. "I love you," he whispered, and he heard Rúmil respond, "My treasure…" Again, that white-hot fire rolled through him and he cried out in pleasure, bucking back against Rúmil's body. He felt it in his core first, heat radiating out from his center in a great wave, then his body tightened and his essence spilled from him, coating Rúmil's hand, as well as his own stomach. Rúmil groaned as Galen's already tight passage constricted around him, and he growled deep as he found his own release, spilling inside his lover's body. He slowly removed himself from Galen's trembling body, ignoring his desire to remain inside that warm, tight embrace. As Galen collapsed upon the bed, he lay beside him, taking him in his arms and holding him tight. "Are you well, my love?" he murmured against the soft, damp flesh of Galen's neck. "Yes," Galen answered. "I am better than well. I feel. . .amazing." Rúmil laughed softly. "It is a delicious experience, is it not?" "Most definitely," Galen replied with a smile. "We must do it again." "Soon, but not tonight, and not tomorrow either," Rúmil said softly. "You feel good now, but in a few hours you will feel sore." Galen nodded in understanding. He felt Rúmil rise from the bed and he looked up. "Where are you going?" "To prepare a bath," Rúmil answered. "I think we could both use a good, long soak, and the tub Haldir brought is still here. Rest, I will return when it is ready." Galen nodded and pulled the blanket up around him, then closed his eyes. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 14/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Khylaren Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. Summary: Elladan and Elrohir spend their last night with Legolas. The Fellowship departs. Gildor returns. Legolas tilted his head back as Elrohir's lips explored his chest. He had often remarked during their lovemaking that no lips should be so soft. Elladan's hands roamed his shoulders, back and waist. As similar as they were, he could always tell them apart by their touch. Elrohir's was soft, loving, almost more of a request than a command. Elladan's was the opposite, commanding, possessing, yet still full of love. He rolled to his back, turning so that he could greet Elladan's lips with his own, opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to enter. Elrohir's mouth worked its way down his torso, suckling his nipples before moving lower to nip at his stomach. His arousal strained upward, already weeping, and when Elrohir's warm breath danced over it, he arched and moaned into Elladan's mouth. So often between the three of them, he surrendered and gave himself to them, letting them direct the course of their lovemaking. This night was no exception, and he put up no resistance when Elladan pulled his hands over his head and held his wrists as he continued to plunder his mouth. His long fingers wrapped around the headboard as Elrohir moved to the side pulling his right leg out and up as Elladan did the same to the left. Two mouths, identical to the touch yet different in action, worked his body like a fine instrument. Elrohir's mouth glided up and down his swollen length, while Elladan's tongue slid in and out of his body in a prelude of what was to come. Tears spilled down his cheeks, the pain and loneliness he felt mingling with the love he shared with these two beautiful creatures. Their mouths left his body, and Elrohir stretched out beside him, pulling him into his arms. His hard length slid into the oiled cleft of Elrohir's buttocks; Elladan had already prepared his twin for him. "Inside me," Elrohir whispered. "I want to feel you inside me." Legolas entered Elrohir gently, slowly, being wrapped in heat as he was seated deep inside him. Elrohir's fingers were tangled in his hair, his sinfully soft lips caressing his ear as he whispered, "Be still…" Fighting the urge to move, Legolas remained still as he felt Elladan's length slide between his own buttocks. Elladan's fingers slid in and out of him, preparing him for his length. All the while, he kissed Elrohir, their tongues sliding against one another, their deep moans floating around them. Gods how he wanted to move, how he wanted to thrust inside Elrohir's body as he had done so many times before. Yet, he waited, waited to be filled by Elladan, waited for Elladan to direct this act as he had so often. He groaned into Elrohir's mouth as Elladan breached and filled his body. Slowly his body remembered and relaxed around him, then Elladan gave the command: "Move." Legolas withdrew nearly all the way before burying himself again. Elrohir bowed and rocked with the motion as his strong hands gripped Legolas' hips. Legolas had to admit that few things in life compared to this act. Filling and being filled at once, gazing down at Elrohir's heartbreakingly beautiful face as it was transformed by pleasure, hearing their perfectly matched moans complimented by his own unique voice. Elladan's mouth worked his ear and his neck and shoulders, leaving love marks then soothing them with his tongue. He felt Elladan reach around his waist then looked down to see his hand wrapped around his twin's engorged and weeping length, stroking it and bringing the three of them closer to the fall. How Elladan knew when to trigger what would be their simultaneous climax, Legolas never knew, but he did it without fail. The cadence with which they moved increased, the smooth, slow glide intensified. Elladan thrust deep into him, harder, faster with each pass. It felt so good to be so possessed, so commanded, so relieved of the burden of being the one in command. He, in turn, rode Elrohir harder as he watched his lover arch and strain against him, struggling to hold off the inevitable climax that would end the ecstasy they felt. He both wanted it and did not. He needed the release but mourned the end of the climb. Elrohir cried out, tears falling from his eyes as he spilled over Elladan's sure grip. Elrohir's tightening body brought his own climax as he was squeezed and his essence milked from him. Immediately, Elladan's own release followed, and Legolas felt his hot seed fill his body. It was the final act in what had been an inevitable course. The last hold on his bruised heart gave way and he collapsed into Elrohir's arms and wept openly. Elladan lay against his back, holding him close and whispering words of love and comfort to him. Elrohir stroked his hair and wept with him. As his tears subsided he whispered, "I do not want to die." Elladan answered, "You will not. There is not a beast alive that can kill you, Legolas. How I know this, I cannot be sure. But as I hold you now, I know that you will be standing still when all is done, and someday, somehow you will have your heart's greatest desire." "I love you both so very much," Legolas whispered. "And we love you," Elrohir answered, his voice thick with tears. The three lovers held each other tight, remaining awake as Anor rose. Then they quietly dressed and prepared for their departure. * * * * "Be careful," Glorfindel said as squeezed Elladan's thigh. "Clear the road but do not take foolish chances." Elladan grinned. "Since when have we taken foolish chances?" Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Since when have you not?" Elrohir chuckled and shook his head. "Come, Glorfindel, do not take all the fun out of this for us." "I do wish you two would not jest so about this. This is serious business," Arwen chided. Elrohir leaned down and kissed the top of his sister's head. "Come, come, my angel, we have done this many times; despite our joking we do take it seriously." "Go, go, you wicked elf," Arwen answered with a grin. "I've watched you treat yrch as no better than a ball you toss between you." "Now who makes light of it, hmm?" Elladan teased. "Oh go, both of you, before you turn my hair white." Arwen crossed to Elladan's side and rose to the balls of her feet as her brother leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Take care of father, little sister, and try to keep Lindir from moping so much," Elladan instructed. "Estel comes," Elrohir said softly, pointing to their foster brother as he came down the stairs. "Good luck, my brothers, and the Valar willing we will meet again in Gondor," Aragorn said with a smile. Elladan and Elrohir each smiled, then looked up to see their father enter the courtyard. Elrond crossed to his sons, laying a hand upon each of their legs. "Be careful, my sons. Do your duty, but remember that no duty is worth the needless loss of life." They nodded in answer. "We love you, father," they responded in unison. Elrond smiled. "Never has a father been prouder than I am of you. I love the both of you very much." "Anor tops the mountains, ‘tis time to fly," Glorfindel said softly. The twins raised their hands, turning their horses and heading for the gate. They both looked back at Legolas, who stood by, arms crossed over his chest. Smiling, they waved and watched as Legolas did the same. They prayed to the Valar that they would see him again, and then rode from the gates to do their duty. Legolas turned away, busying himself with the last minute tasks before they departed. His own companions had left shortly before the twins, bearing the letter to his father. His wall was once again firmly in place, and he went about his task silently. Erestor assisted with the preparations, helping Sam with his pack. "That Legolas sure is a quiet one," Sam remarked. "Are all elves so quiet?" "He is no doubt serious," Erestor answered. "He has changed so much in the years I have known him. Do not take his seriousness for unkindness, Samwise. He will place himself between you and a raging warg, have no doubt." Sam nodded. "Aye, I'm very glad he is with us." Erestor smiled and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Be brave, young hobbit, and do not fail to serve your master." "I won't, Master Erestor, fear not." Elrond blessed the members of the Fellowship before they departed, then watched as the last hope of Middle-earth departed his gates. * * * * Lindir sat on a bench in the gardens. A deep sigh escaped him as he twirled a sprig of jasmine between his fingers. He tried to keep a stiff upper lip; he tried to hide how much he missed Gildor from those around him. It had been months since his mate departed, and he was beginning to fear that something had gone wrong. "How long can it take to walk to the Grey Havens and back?" he mumbled to himself. "Just over two full cycles of the moon, if the weather does not interfere." Lindir spun around and leapt to his feet. "Gildor!" He ran toward his mate and jumped into his arms. Gildor laughed and caught his beloved, swinging him around. "Oh I have missed you, my songbird," he murmured into Lindir's hair. "You smell like the woods," Lindir purred into his ear. "I love the way you smell…" Gildor smiled and squeezed Lindir. "By the Valar, I never knew I could miss another so much. I love you, Lindir." Lindir wrapped his legs around Gildor's waist. "I want to go to bed with you, right now, and I don't want to do anything else for at least a fortnight." Gildor laughed aloud. "I will do my best to see that desire so fulfilled, my love." Lindir kissed Gildor's face, ears, and neck as his beloved carried him toward their home. "I have been sleeping in your nightshirts. It was not quite the same, but it was better than nothing." "What else have you been doing?" Gildor murmured. "Shall I tell you?" Lindir purred. "I have been touching myself and dreaming of you, nearly everyday…" he whispered huskily. "What a coincidence," Gildor murmured. "I have been doing the same." "I am aroused just smelling you, touching you like this…" "Must we go all the way back to our bed? Can we not find some place closer?" "Gildor! Here? In Lord Elrond's garden?" "You are right. I suppose that would not be proper." "Proper has so very little to do with it…" "Now who is wicked?" Lindir laughed. "Set me down. I will race you back." "How is that fair? I have spent the better part of two months walking from here to the Havens and back while you have lounged and luxuriated in our home." "Yes, but you are stronger and faster than I. Does this not just make it fair?" Gildor smiled. "Go on, I will even give you a head start." Lindir laughed and bolted from the garden as soon as Gildor sat him down, with his lover in hot pursuit. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 15/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Khylaren Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. Summary: Gildor and Lindir celebrate their reunion. The twins clear the road for the Fellowship. Lindir laughed as he burst through the door and ran for the staircase. Gildor was following close behind and Lindir would occasionally glance over his shoulder as he ran. He was panting as he threw open the door to their quarters, his fingers quickly working the clasps on his tunic as he headed for the bedroom. He turned, just in time to be shoved backward onto the bed before Gildor landed on top of him. He began pushing and pulling furiously at Gildor's already unlaced doublet. "Too many clothes," he panted. Gildor's mouth suckled and bit at his neck, and Lindir moaned as he worked the clasps on his mate's tunic. His hands greedily consumed the flesh of Gildor's chest, and his mate rose just long enough to fling both the doublet and tunic onto the chair in the corner. Gildor pulled him into a sitting position quickly, long enough to remove his tunic, then covered him again, pressing him into the bed. Lindir moaned and wrapped his legs around him grinding their hips together as he kicked off his shoes then pulled Gildor's boots off with his feet. "Such sweet flesh," Gildor murmured against his neck. "I have missed it beyond imagining." Lindir wrapped his arms around his mate's powerful body. "I have missed this," he breathed. "I have missed the feeling of your weight on me; I have missed these arms, this back, these shoulders…" Lindir slid his fingers inside Gildor's leggings, caressing and gripping his muscular buttocks. "I want you inside me, my love," he whispered into Gildor's ear. "Yes," Gildor answered. "It is what I want too…" He rose from the bed and removed his leggings and undergarments, then pulled Lindir's off as well. He crawled onto the bed, following as Lindir scooted up toward its head, then reached across and retrieved the oil that was kept in the bedside table. He prepared Lindir first with his tongue, his arousal swelling and aching as Lindir's whimpering moans filled his ears. He moved his mouth to Lindir's chest as he slid oiled fingers inside his beloved's body. Lindir's fingers clutched and tugged at his hair as his lover began to beg. Gathering Lindir's legs in his arms, he entered his mate's body. Lindir cried out, and arched against him and Gildor froze, his heart hammering inside his chest, his body aching to move within his lover's heat. "So long," Lindir whispered hoarsely. "It feels like it has been so long…" Gildor began to move slowly as Lindir's trembling hands caressed his back and his sultry mouth began to work his ear. "You feel so good," Lindir whispered. "So very good…" "I have longed for this, dreamed of this," Gildor murmured. A smile curved Lindir's lips as he was filled by his beloved. The cadence of Gildor's thrusts quickened, and the intensity of his deep, soulful moans heightened. His own release was coming hard as Gildor's strong hand stroked and squeezed, gliding through the fluid that signaled his oncoming rapture. His body rocked and bowed with his beloved's thrusts, Gildor's teeth marked the soft flesh of his neck before his tongue soothed the abused skin. His climax came upon him in a rush as he cried out, his body tightening and squeezing his mate's arousal as his essence spilled over Gildor's hand and in between their sweat- slicked bodies. Gildor growled low as he buried himself deep and spilled inside his body. They lay together, panting and trembling, and then Lindir murmured, "I love you." Gildor smiled. Three small words could bring such joy, such fulfillment. "I love you, Lindir," he answered softly. Lindir smiled and wrapped his arms and legs tightly around his beloved, as Gildor struggled to pull the bed coverings loose. Lindir laughed softly as his mate chuckled. "Can you not let go for just one moment?" Gildor teased. "No, I cannot let go. I told you I was not going to let you leave the bed for a fortnight," Lindir murmured sultrily. "We may have to leave, otherwise we will grow weak from hunger," Gildor whispered huskily. "But I have thought of that," Lindir replied. "The kitchen is stocked, we need go no further than the next room." "Brilliant," Gildor answered, as he pulled the blankets up around them. "Do you think anyone will miss us?" "Oh, I think they will know where we are," Lindir responded, then nipped the soft flesh of Gildor's neck. "I suppose you are right," Gildor replied. "Come, rest in my arms for a little while. I have missed holding you." Lindir smiled as he snuggled against Gildor's chest, and they watched the birds happily tending to their nests outside the window. * * * * "Do not let it get away!" Elrohir shouted, as he removed his sword from the chest of an orc. Elladan galloped after an escaping orc on a warg, his sword held high. The warg growled and snapped at his horse, but his faithful gelding did not yield. Instead, the gelding threw its shoulder into the fell beast, knocking it off balance. This provided Elladan with the opportunity he needed. Rather than strike the orc, he drove his sword through the warg's neck. The warg fell dead as his horse slid to a stop and he dismounted. The orc growled and sputtered, lurching from side to side as Elladan approached. Elladan's brow was knitted, his lip curled up in a fearsome sneer. "There are far too many of you polluting this earth," he growled menacingly. "There will be far fewer when my brother and I are through." "Son of Elrond, the half-elf," the orc spat. "Your kind will all fall before my master and beg for mercy." "We will beg for nothing, nor shall we offer quarter. You are all as good as dead." He raised his sword, and brought it down hard. The orc blocked the strike, but the strength of the blow sent him staggering backwards. Before he could recover, Elladan's sword came around in an arc, removing his head. Elladan stood over the carcass and spat upon it. "Vermin," he growled. Tying a rope around its ankles, he hauled the dead orc back to a pile Elrohir was making. Tossing the head of the orc on the ground, he said, "Here is one more." "Did we kill all of them?" Elrohir asked as he untied the orc's body. "I am certain of it," Elladan answered. Elrohir watched his brother set the orc's head on a spear next to the pile. "A warning," he said in a low voice. "We are coming…" Elrohir built a small fire and constructed a torch out of a fallen branch that he wrapped with cloth soaked in oil while Elladan dug a small trench around the pyre. He and Elladan often used fire as a weapon, when they could do so without endangering the forest or other peaceful creatures. Ironically, fire sent the orcs into a panic; they would often become so frightened they would lose the ability to fight productively. Elrohir handed the torch to Elladan. The fearsome grin on his elder twin's features caused a shiver to run down his spine. In all ways but one, Elladan was the thoughtful one of the two of them. He was the one who thought things through, the one who looked to reason and order as tools with which to guide his life. However, when moved to fight, Elrohir thought there were few as fearsome as his elder twin. They moved down wind from the burning orc carcasses, and sat quietly as the fire burned. They would wait until it had burnt itself out, then they would move on. "I need a bath," Elrohir said quietly. "I loathe orc blood." Elladan looked over his shoulder. "There is a stream just beyond that hill." The fire began to die slowly; the pile of orc bodies was reduced to ash and bone. "It is safe to leave it now. Come, I will watch over you." Elrohir stood up and took Elladan's hand, tugging him to his feet. "I would prefer it if you bathed with me," he said softly. "Alright," Elladan answered. "I suppose if I were you I would not want to share a bedroll with one who stunk of those foul creatures either." Elladan looked down at his twin, who knelt next to the cool running stream, splashing water on his arms and face. Elrohir's doublet and breeches were drying upon a rock, having been cleansed of the remnants of battle. Elladan's own lay next to them, and he waded into the knee-deep stream and began to rinse the foul blood from his hands, arms and face. Elrohir waded in to him, reaching up with a small cloth and cleaning the orc blood from his hair. The gentleness with which Elrohir did so many things never ceased to surprise him. His own blood still ran hot with the rage he still felt whenever they confronted the beasts that defiled their mother. Since those early days after her rescue, Elladan made it a point not to touch Elrohir until his blood had cooled. He swore after that first time that he would learn from his mistake, and never hurt his twin again. Elrohir's fingers explored his face softly, gently soothing the lines made by the anger he felt. His brother's touch never failed to inflame him. "Elrohir…" he whispered hoarsely. "You will not hurt me," Elrohir answered. "I trust you." He pushed Elladan's hair behind his ears. "This anger, it hurts you, Elladan. Let me help you let go of it." "I do not want to hurt you again." "You will not." "But I did." "That was long ago, Elladan; another lifetime ago. You are not the same elf, nor am I." "No, you are better than you were: braver, more compassionate." "As are you. I saw that in the way you held Legolas, in the words you spoke, in the love you gave him. You are different too, Elladan, though you do not see it yourself." Elladan placed his trembling hands on Elrohir's shoulders. "Promise me something," he whispered. "Anything," Elrohir answered. "If I begin to hurt you, promise me you will hurt me back. Do not let me do it." "I will not, I promise." Elladan knew Elrohir was just as strong as he was, in fact, he suspected that Elrohir was stronger in some ways. Though a bit smaller and lighter than himself, Elrohir was superior at hand to hand combat. In a true match, Elrohir would defeat him every time. Elrohir took his hand and led him from the stream to a small grove formed by trees and shrubs that grew near the water. He spread their cloaks on the soft ground and lay down, holding out his arms for Elladan. Elladan looked down upon his twin, his beloved. Nothing was more beautiful to him than Elrohir. His long legs, muscular and lean body, the rich sable hair that spilled from his head, his large, liquid silver eyes and full, red lips. It was hard to believe that when others looked at them they saw them as identical, for Elladan did not see the same things in himself. He lowered himself to his hands and knees and crawled toward his beloved. Already Elrohir's soothing touch and deep melodic voice calmed the rage inside him. What was left he pushed away, and lowered himself into Elrohir's arms. To be continued…