Title: Winds of War, 6/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil, Legolas,
Rúmil, Haldir, Galen (OMC)
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
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 t
name is identitical.

Summary: Rúmil leads his company into battle, Legolas leaves for Imladris and Galen
takes on a new role.


Ithil had risen full in the sky by the time the orcs had neared the border of Lórien.
Rúmil's company numbered fifty and the orcs had them outnumbered three to one.  From
their positions in the trees, the elves had the advantage, and Rúmil intended to keep
it.  Extra quivers were stashed among the trees, and Rúmil calculated that if they did
not miss their targets often, they might have enough to finish them off. What worried
him, and what had prompted him to signal for reinforcements, was that those orcs coming
down the Dimrill Stair were but the first wave of a much larger group.  No one knew how
many orcs there were deep inside the Misty Mountains, and the Elves of Lothlórien had
long feared that the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm had perished.

The first volley sent fifty white fletched arrows sailing silently into the air, making
a broad arc before dropping from the sky and taking out the front line of advancing
orcs.  The orcs had no warning, no sign that their approach was observed, and they were
caught off guard and left scrambling to recover.  The second volley caught those who had
recovered and were now advancing quickly.  The initial plan of taking out the front line
was working to the extent that it slowed down those who followed as they dodged and
clambered over the bodies that had fallen.

Galen was taking time to insure that each of his arrows found their mark, so he was not
firing as rapidly as he knew he could.  However, his tactics were working, as he felled
each orc he aimed at.  In a short time, the orcs had covered the distance between the
foothills and the forest border.  Rúmil gave the signal to drop from the trees; it was
time to begin close combat.  Their tactics had succeeded in that by the time the orcs
reached the forest border, their numbers where reduced by half.  

Galen drew his long sword and took up a battle position.  His palms were sweating and
limbs were trembling as the orcs bore down upon them.  One third of their regiment
remained in the trees and kept firing arrows as the fighting commenced.  His ears were
filled with the sound of clashing steel, the guttural grunts of wounded orcs and the
cries of wounded elves.  His arms were tiring as he slashed and dodged the heavy iron
scimitars of the orcs.  He had lost sight of Rúmil and was now focused on staying alive.
It was a great relief when he heard the war cry of the arriving reinforcements.

As the morning mist rose, he leaned heavily on his sword, surveying the carnage before
him.  It had been his first battle, and he had survived it.  His eyes scanned the field
for any sign of his tutor.  Slowly, he began walking through the area, stepping over the
bodies of felled orcs.  His breath caught when he saw an elf slumped against a tree, and
he ran forward, falling to his knees in the dirt beside him.  It was Rúmil.

His face and hair were marred with blood, his lip split open and bleeding, his left arm
hanging limply in his lap.  A soft moan came from him as Galen tried to push his hair
back from his face.  Galen reached for Rúmil's arm and his mentor whispered hoarsely,
"Do not touch it, it is broken."

Rúmil's breath came in shallow gasps and Galen opened and peeled back his tunic as
carefully as he could.  "Your ribs are broken," he said softly.

Rúmil nodded.  "Help me to my feet," he answered in a hoarse whisper.

Galen slid an arm underneath Rúmil's uninjured one and lifted him as carefully as he
could.  Rúmil ground his teeth against the pain and moaned.

The reinforcements had brought with them some litters to bear back the wounded, and
Galen began slowly guiding Rúmil toward one.  "You cannot walk the distance, not like
this," he said softly.

Rúmil nodded.  "Water.  Can you get me some water?"

Galen laid his tutor down carefully and then retrieved his water bag from his station in
the trees.  Lifting Rúmil's head, he gave his mentor a small sip and used a portion more
to wet a cloth and clean his face.  After wiping away the blood, he could see a bruise
blooming upon Rúmil's cheek and jaw.

"You must make a splint and stabilize my arm until the healer can set the bone," Rúmil
said softly.  

Galen nodded and went about the task of gathering sticks and strips of cloth to secure
them with.  After making the splint, he found another elf to help him bear the litter
back to Caras Galadhon.  Rúmil left another one of the senior lieutenants in charge and
the smell of burning orc carcasses began to fill the air as the train of wounded was
taken back to the tree-city.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil stifled a groan as Legolas helped him out of his heavy, formal robes and
boots.  He slid back against the pillows propped up against the head of his bed and
sighed wearily.  While his wounds were healed on the outside, the poison had slowed the
internal healing.  It would be another week or so before he felt normal once again.  He
smiled wearily as Legolas sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him in concern.

"Forgive me, Father," Legolas began.  "But how do you expect to ride a horse for a
fortnight in order to reach Imladris?  You are still weary and weak from your injuries."
Thranduil closed his eyes, rested his head against the head of the bed, and said
nothing.  Legolas continued, "Lord Elrond will not wait for you to heal and Mithrandir
must be told of the creature's escape.  Let me go in your stead; I have been to Imladris
before, it is a journey I am well acquainted with."

"I do not want you to go," Thranduil answered softly.  "I will send someone from the
council instead."

"What?  Why?" Legolas protested.  "I am your son: I am prince of this realm, who is
better suited to attend than I?"

"Greenleaf, please.  Do not argue with me about this now."

"The messenger is returning tomorrow; someone must go with him.  This must be decided
now."

"Eager to be away from your father, are you?"

"Father, you know that is not true."  Legolas placed his hand upon his father's knee.
"Why do you resist letting me do this?"

"I fear that if you leave, you will not come back," he answered softly.

"What?  What would make you say such a thing?  You know this is the place I love and
belong."

Thranduil sighed.  "I know you are right.  I am just being foolish."  He opened his eyes
and looked at Legolas.  "I will permit you to go on one condition."

"What condition?"

"That you promise to go to the council then return home as soon as it is done,
regardless of what transpires at the meeting."

"I promise."

Thranduil reached out and took Legolas' hand.  "I am proud of you, my son.  Never forget
that."

Legolas smiled and squeezed his father's hand.  "I know, Father."

"Now, go; let your old and weary father take some rest."

Legolas smiled and rose from the bed, leaning over and placing a kiss on his father's
forehead.  "I will come fetch you for the evening meal."  He crossed the room and opened
the door, pausing and looking back at his father.  "I love you, Father."

Thranduil smiled.  "I love you as well, Greenleaf."

*    *    *    *

Morning came and Legolas found his father in the corridor outside his room.  "Do you
have any last minute instructions for me?"

Thranduil approached and began walking slowly with Legolas toward the entrance to the
caves.  "Only that you ride fast, take care not to be seen or followed, and come home as
soon as possible."

Legolas nodded.  "I do not relish telling Mithrandir of my failure," he said softly.

Thranduil placed his hand upon Legolas' back as they walked.  "I doubt he will be as
hard on you as you are on yourself.  Perhaps this is how things are meant to be, only
Manwë knows the grand design."

As they reached the courtyard, Legolas turned and looked at Thranduil.  He gazed up into
his king's eyes, eyes that were so kind and full of love and reassurance.  "I will not
fail you," he said softly.

"You never have," Thranduil answered.

"Take no unnecessary chances while I am gone.  Let your soldiers do their duty…" Legolas
said. Thranduil's smile told him that he would consider that advice, but that he was
unlikely to change his ways after so many years.  Legolas rose to the balls of his feet
and embraced his father.  "I love you," he whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Legolas," Thranduil answered.  "Be careful, my son."

"I will."  Legolas released his father then bowed before him, taking his hand and
pressing his lips to the ring on Thranduil's finger.  He lingered for a moment, feeling
his heart constrict in his chest and he blinked back tears that threatened to fall.  In
a moment of impulse, he brushed his lips across the knuckles of his father's hand, then
he released it and turned without meeting his gaze and ran toward his horse.

Thranduil's heart skipped at the soft brush of Legolas' lips upon the back of his hand.
It was something he had never done before.  He maintained a mask of composure, as the
eyes of his people were on both him and his son.  He then raised his hand in farewell as
Legolas and his traveling companions galloped out of the gate.  He did not know it then,
but it was the last he was to see of his son for many, many years.

Turning and walking back into the caves, he made his way slowly toward his bedchamber.
Once inside, he sat heavily upon the bed and looked at his trembling hand.  The secret
that had slumbered between them was waking; Legolas was aware of what lived inside him.
He held his hand against his chest for a moment, then gave into weakness and brought it
to his own mouth, brushing his lips against the place where Legolas' lips had touched.  

"Forgive me," he whispered to the Valar.  "But I love him so.  Keep him safe; please
keep him safe…"

*    *    *    *

Haldir and Orophin charged up the stairs to Rúmil's talan.  Galen jumped as he was
roused from his nap and they hastily entered the room.  He placed his fingers to his
lips and admonished the worried brothers, pointing to the bed and indicating that Rúmil
was asleep.

"What happened?" Haldir whispered.

"He was injured at the western border when we were attacked by yrch coming from the
mountains.  He has two broken ribs, a broken arm and some other less severe injuries.
The healer said he will recover, but cannot return to duty for at least one full cycle
of the moon."

"Are you all right?" Orophin whispered.

"Aye," Galen answered.  "I was lucky."

"How many did we lose?" Haldir asked.

"I cannot be sure.  I left with Rúmil as the wounded were being gathered."

Haldir turned to Orophin.  "Find the healer and take a count of the wounded.  I will
need names of their families.  Tell them I am on my way to check on them myself."
Orophin nodded and rushed off.  He turned to Galen.  "You have been watching over him?"

"Yes.  I wanted him to stay abed and thought I could help if he needed anything."

"Are you able to stay awhile longer?"

"Yes, Captain.  Go attend to the others, I will be here should he need anything."

"My thanks to you, Galen."

Galen smiled and bowed his head as Haldir left.  Settling back into the rocker beside
Rúmil's bed, he sighed.  He turned his protecting and watchful gaze back upon his mentor
as he listened to the birds singing outside.


To be continued…




Title: Winds of War, 7/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil, Legolas,
Rúmil, Haldir, Galen (OMC)
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
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 heals and he and Galen each make a discovery.

Haldir and Orophin had returned with nightfall, and Galen went home to bathe and rest
before returning in the morning.  Upon relieving the captain and his brother, he set
about straightening Rúmil's talan.  He washed clothes, dusted, swept, hung the rugs out
to air, washed the few dishes Rúmil had in his kitchen and prepared a pot of soup for
his mentor.  These were all duties he was accustomed to, as his parents had been lost
when their boat capsized and they were swept over the Falls of Rauros when he had just
reached his majority. For the past five years, he had assumed the role of parent to his
younger siblings, so things like cleaning, cooking and sewing were as much a part of his
repertoire as firing a bow or wielding a sword.  His younger siblings were now old
enough to carry their own weight, so he had undertaken a place among the warriors of the
Galadhrim.

While Caras Galadhon was home to nearly as many birds as elves, it was rare that the
small, skittish creatures ventured into the talans of their elven neighbors.  The sound
of many small, fluttering wings amid the angry chirps of finch and robins alerted him
that something was amiss.  Entering Rúmil's bedchamber, he found a large falcon perched
upon the twined willow branches that formed the headboard of his captain's bed.  Around
her neck was a leather strap that was tied around a coiled piece of parchment.  

He approached the bird slowly, trying to be unthreatening, to see if he could retrieve
what appeared to be a note.  But as he extended his hand, she took flight and came to
rest in the upper branches of the mallorn.  She watched him carefully, and shook her
head as if to say, "this is not for you".  Galen shrugged and went back to his work,
confident that the falcon would not harm his slumbering master.

Some time later, Galen heard the sound of Rúmil stirring, and he entered the bedchamber,
wiping his hands upon an apron he found in the kitchen.  The bird was perched upon the
headboard once again, looking down at the waking Rúmil.

A slow groan escaped Rúmil's lips as he tried to move his arm.  Galen approached his
bedside and sat gingerly upon the edge.

"Ssshh… do not try to move your arm," he said softly.  "It is broken and the healer said
you must remain still."

"Help me sit up, please," Rúmil answered groggily.

Galen did as asked, propping pillows up behind Rúmil's back.  "Are you in much pain?"

Rúmil shook his head.  "Not more than I can bear.  How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days," Galen answered.  "The tonic the healer gave you was most potent."

"I should say so," Rúmil agreed as he rubbed his face.

"You have a visitor," Galen nodded toward the falcon who watched them with curiosity.

"Come, Arphen." Rúmil extended his good arm and the bird hopped down.

"Where did she come from?" Galen asked quietly.

"She has traveled far.  She was sent by her master to deliver me a message and she will
wait until I give her one to return with."  Rúmil removed the note from around Arphen's
neck and the bird returned to her perch.  Rúmil looked at Galen, who bowed his head and
rose from the edge of his bed.  "She comes from Mirkwood," he continued softly.  "She
bears a message from his majesty, Thranduil."

Galen nodded.  "I did not mean to pry…"

Rúmil reached out and caught Galen by the wrist.  "How long have you been here, Galen?"

"I have been staying with you during the days, your brothers return at night to relieve
me, though they need not do so.  I would answer them thus, except that I believe the
reason they come back is that they wish to be near you.  I cannot blame them, they love
you very much."

"Thank you for looking after me, Galen," Rúmil answered softly.  

Galen smiled shyly and bowed his head again.  "Are you hungry, sir?  I made some soup."

"Soup sounds wonderful, thank you.  And Galen?"

"Yes sir?"

"Please stop calling me sir, at least when we are alone."

Galen smiled and nodded.  "Aye.  I will prepare a bowl of soup and some tea for you
while you read your letter."

Rúmil smiled and unrolled the parchment as Galen exited his bedchamber.  He read in
silence of news of the attack, of the council meeting and Legolas' departure.  While
they were just words on a piece of parchment, they were still so much more.  Each letter
was a conversation, and in each one, more of his lover's heart was revealed.  Rúmil
could feel the concern Thranduil had for his son, how he worried for his future as he
worried for the fate of all those who wished to live free.  However, beneath the words
so elegantly inscribed on the parchment, there was a hidden truth.  Thranduil's heart
would never belong to him; he knew that.  True, the king cared a great deal about him,
but he was not in love with him, nor would he ever be. 

Rúmil closed his eyes and leaned his head back upon the headboard.  ‘It is time,' he
thought.  ‘Time to let go, Rúmil.  It is time to release him of the obligation he feels,
time to release him to follow his heart.'  He brought the parchment to his lips and
pressed a kiss to it.  "That we had met in another life," he whispered.  

He placed the parchment down on his bedside table as Galen entered carrying a tray with
soup, a hearty slice of fresh bread, a mug of tea and a glass of cool water.  "The
healer said you must drink this tea with every meal," Galen said quietly.  "At least for
the first few weeks."

"Galen?"

"Yes si… I mean, yes?"

"Would you fetch a piece of parchment and my quill from the desk in the other room?"

"Of course."  Galen set the tray down upon the bed and went to retrieve the items Rúmil
had asked for.  Upon returning, he found Rúmil enjoying the soup he had brought.  

"This is delicious!" Rúmil exclaimed between spoonfuls.

"Thank you." Galen blushed.  "I made it from the root vegetables that are growing in the
garden outside the back gate and I added some stock that was left over from the fowl I
roasted for your brothers."  He placed the parchment, quill and inkpot on the table
beside Rúmil's bed.  "Do not forget the tea…"

"Mmm… I will not," Rúmil mumbled between spoonfuls.  

"Are you feeling well enough to take a bath?" 

"Yes, a bath sounds wonderful," Rúmil answered.

"I will draw one then.  Haldir brought up a tub from the officers' quarters."

"Thank you so much, Galen.  You are taking wonderful care of me."

Galen blushed again then exited the room to begin filling the tub.

After finishing his meal, Rúmil wrote a reply to Thranduil and rolled the parchment once
he was sure the ink was dry.  He called Arphen and secured the note around her neck then
stroked her back.  "I do not know if I will see you again, my friend.  May the Valar
grant you speed, and look after your master."

The falcon chirped in reply then took flight, exiting his talan and returning to her
master.

Galen returned to find Rúmil looking sad.  "What is it?  Did you receive bad news?"

Rúmil smiled tiredly.  "No, but I am afraid I may have delivered it."  He shook his
head.  "'Tis no matter.  Come, help me into the bath."

Galen nodded and slowly helped Rúmil rise from the bed.  After making their way toward
the kitchen, Galen helped Rúmil out of his sleeping robe, removed the bandages around
his ribs and averting his eyes, he helped his mentor into the tub.  He then propped
Rúmil's splinted arm up with a pillow so that it would not get wet.  A long, slow sigh
escaped Rúmil as he sank into the warm water.

Galen reluctantly left Rúmil just long enough to place fresh linens on his bed, then
returned to find his lieutenant in a state of near bliss.  Galen gathered up Rúmil's
hair and draped it over the edge of the tub.  He then placed a bucket beneath it and sat
another one next to it.  Using a ladle, he wet Rúmil's hair, and then he worked soap
made with rosemary into it.  He massaged his mentor's scalp and gazed upon Rúmil's face.  

Rúmil's eyes were closed, his lips curved into a satisfied smile.  Galen admired his
fine cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the gentle arch of his eyebrows and the
elegant curves of his ears.  It was no longer possible for him to deny to himself that
he found Rúmil to be most beautiful, and that only added to the sense of attraction he
already felt.  He had long admired Rúmil.  He admired his sense of duty, his skill as a
warrior, and the way he commanded and looked after those who served beneath him.  He
admired Rúmil as a soldier and leader long before he admired him physically.

He rinsed the soap from Rúmil's hair and wrapped it in a cloth, squeezing the excess
water from it.  He then began slowly working a wooden comb through his silky silver
locks, the slow rhythm of each stroke allowing his mind and eyes to wander.  His gaze
traveled over taut, ivory skin, over lean but hard muscle, over dusky nipples and a
rippling abdomen.  He then gazed at long, strong legs, elegant hands and strong yet
slender arms.  As a soft moan escaped Rúmil's lips, he felt an ache deep inside him.
‘So this is what it is like,' he wondered to himself.  ‘This is what it is like to love
another…'

He saw gooseflesh beginning to rise upon his captain's arms.  "Is the water getting too
cool?" he asked softly.

"A bit," Rúmil answered.  

Galen rose and retrieved a thick cloth that was hanging over the back of a chair that
sat next to the stove.  He helped Rúmil rise then wrapped him in the warm cloth, using
another to dry his legs, feet and arms.  He then helped Rúmil into a clean sleeping robe
then escorted him back to the bed.

Rúmil sighed as he sank into the soft bed and smiled sleepily at Galen.  "Where did you
learn to care for another so well?" he asked softly.

"I have been caring for my siblings for many years," Galen answered.

"I will have to find a way to repay you for this, though I do not know how I will,"
Rúmil replied sleepily.

"You need not repay me," Galen answered.  "It has been my pleasure."

Galen returned to the kitchen where he drained the tub and busied himself cleaning.

*    *    *    *

Upon entering Rúmil's talan, Haldir found an exhausted Galen sleeping in the rocker
beside Rúmil's bed.  His brother, who appeared to be quite comfortable and clean was
lying on his side, his injured arm propped upon his side and his gazed fixed upon his
watcher.  Rúmil placed his fingers upon his lips.  "Ssshhh…" he whispered, then pointed
at Galen.

Haldir sat beside Rúmil and whispered.  "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Rúmil answered quietly.  

"He has watched over you faithfully," Haldir replied.  "I think his attentions go beyond
mere duty."

"Do you think so?" Rúmil queried.

Haldir smiled.  "Most definitely.  Look at him, he is exhausted."

"He does not look comfortable."

"No, he does not.  Are you hungry?"

"Mmm… not really.  I had two bowls of that delicious soup he made earlier.  Did you have
any?"

"No.  But Orophin and I picked the pheasant he roasted clean last night.  He is quite a
cook, would you not agree?"

Rúmil nodded.  "He should be asleep in a bed.  He has earned a rest."

"Aye.  Shall I wake him and escort him home?  He lives on the other side of the city."

"Would you make a bed for him in the sitting room?  I think the divan would be
comfortable enough."

"Perhaps… of course, it is a little small…"

"You are right."  Rúmil glanced over his shoulder.  "There is enough room for both of us
here.  He can sleep with me."

Haldir grinned.  "If you insist."

"If I were not laying on my good arm, I would punch you for that."

"Lucky me."  Haldir rose and lifted Galen without too much difficulty from the chair
then placed him in the bed beside Rúmil.  "He is so exhausted he did not wake when I
moved him," Haldir remarked.  "I shall sleep on the divan.  If you need anything call
me."

"Thank you, Haldir," Rúmil answered with a whisper.

"That is what brothers are for," Haldir responded with a smile.  He then departed and
left Galen and Rúmil to their rest.


To be continued…


Title: Winds of War, 8/?
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 slips from Rúmil's grasp; Erestor fears for Glorfindel, Legolas arrives
in Imladris.

As the sun began to rise and the sky began to grow light, Galen awoke from his deep
slumber.  A soft sigh escaped him and he stretched, then he instinctively curled closer
to the warm form beside him.  His eyes opened and cleared with a start, and he found
himself lying in Rúmil's arms.  Rúmil was still asleep, his head turned toward him.  The
initial confusion passed, and Galen decided to enjoy his current position rather than
question how he came to be there.

Rúmil still smelled of the oils from his bath the afternoon before, the warm scents of
rosemary and cedar filled Galen's nostrils.  His strong, archer's body was warm and
solid, and his heart thumped with a steady rhythm beneath his hand.  Just above his
fingertips, not more than a hair's breadth away, was a dusky nipple.  Galen toyed with
the idea of touching it, but then decided it was best not to push things so far.

He did not dare move lest he rouse his lieutenant and end the blissful state he found
himself in.  ‘What did this mean?' he wondered.  How had he come to be in Rúmil's bed?
It was clear that Rúmil himself could not have moved him, and that left either Haldir or
Orophin.  Had they moved him with Rúmil's permission or without it?  He supposed he
would find out when Rúmil woke.

Suddenly, the thought that it was without Rúmil's permission and that Rúmil might not be
as happy as he was about the situation caused Galen to carefully but quickly disentangle
himself from his lieutenant.  Careful not to rouse his sleeping patient, Galen left the
bed and tiptoed out of the bedchamber.

He made a pot of tea and prepared poached eggs, muffins, and potatoes for their
breakfast.  As he waited for the muffins to come out of the oven, he saw the neatly
folded blankets near the divan.  He could tell that Haldir had slept there the night
before, because Orophin was not quite as neat when folding the bedding.  He sipped his
tea and combed his hair, then checked on the progress of their meal.  When the muffins
were sufficiently baked, he gathered his composure before returning to wake his sleeping
lieutenant.  He would say nothing of where he slept and he resolved to bury his
burgeoning attraction to Rúmil deep where it could not be discovered.

*    *    *    *

"Why must it always be you?" Erestor sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands,
which were folded in his lap.

"It is not just me, my love," Glorfindel answered as he laced his tunic.  "Lord Elrond
is sending all those able to ride out to find Estel and the Hobbits."

"He is not sending me, he is not sending Lindir, he is not sending Arwen… there is a
reason for that, Glorfindel."

"It is not I who fear them, Erestor, it is they who fear me."

Erestor slammed his hand upon the bed.  "Dammit, Glorfindel!  Whether or not they fear
you is beside the point!  They can kill you, fear or no, and you cannot kill them.  This
is not about your warrior's pride, you have a responsibility greater than just to
yourself."

Glorfindel sat down beside Erestor and placed his arm around his mate, ignoring
Erestor's attempts to shrug it off.  "I know that, my love, and I do take it seriously.
I do not do this out of pride, Erestor.  If the Úlairi find the hobbit, if they take the
Ring, there is not enough time for us to escape what will come.  Thousands of men and
elves alike will fall beneath the wheels of war that the Dark Lord will unleash…"

"I know," Erestor murmured.

"I have nothing else to prove, Erestor.  I am no longer seeking atonement.  I am doing
what I know I have to do to ensure your safety as well as the safety of others."

"Then let me go with you…"

"Erestor…"

"Yes, yes, I know.  It will be easier if you go alone."

Glorfindel took Erestor's face in his hands.  "I love you, you must know that.  I cannot
bear the thought of anything happening to you."

"Then you know how I feel."

"I do.  I also know the grief you would suffer should anything happen to me, for I would
suffer the same should anything happen to you.  Because of that, I will return, safe and
whole, so that you do not have to suffer in pain."

Erestor embraced his mate and held him tight.  "Promise me."

"I promise."

"I love you."

"I love you, my raven.  You give me strength, Erestor.  You make me believe that I can
do anything."

"Well, do not get over confident…"

Glorfindel chuckled and pressed a kiss to Erestor's neck.  

"Come, I will walk you to the gate," Erestor answered.

Glorfindel rose and took Erestor's hand and they departed their home together.

Erestor stood and watched Glorfindel ride out of the gates of the Last Homely House in
search of a hobbit bearing a ring.  He closed his eyes and whispered to the Valar,
"Please, please, return him to me safe…"

He felt a hand upon his back and turned to see Lindir smiling sadly at him.  Of all
those whom he knew, Lindir understood best what he felt in that moment.  He took his
friend's hand and climbed the steps to the Last Homely House, determined to immerse
himself in work so as not to worry about his mate.

*    *    *    *

He heard Asfaloth's bells ringing and bolted from the library with Lindir in tow.  The
residents of the Last Homely House watched in surprise as Erestor pushed past them, his
long black robes billowing out behind him as he ran.  Lindir mumbled apologies to those
they passed as he struggled to keep up.  He reached the courtyard just behind Erestor to
find Arwen lifting a small creature that resembled Bilbo from the stallion's back.  

Erestor stood in dumbfounded shock.  Glorfindel was nowhere to be found.  He held
Asfaloth's head in his hands and murmured.  "Where is he?  Why did he send you back
without him?"  Asfaloth merely nickered and tossed his head in reply.

"The hobbit," Lindir murmured in his ear.  "He is seriously wounded; Lady Arwen is
taking him to see Master Elrond."

"Go," Erestor said to Asfaloth.  "Go and find him, and bring him back to me."

The stallion nickered again and turned, galloping back out of the gate and into the
woods.

Erestor turned and looked at Lindir.  "We can be of no help.  Bilbo must not learn of
this until we know the young one will recover."

"What has happened?" Lindir asked.

"Evil," Erestor answered.  "From the looks of him, he has encountered the Úlairi…"

Lindir placed his hand over his mouth.  

"Come, let us go back to work.  We cannot let on that anything is amiss."  He took
Lindir by the hand and they walked back to the Last Homely House together.

*    *    *    *

As night fell, Erestor sat in Glorfindel's rocker on their porch.  His hands slid over
the smooth, worn places where Glorfindel's hands often rested.  It had been a day since
the arrival of Frodo Baggins, and still no word of Glorfindel.  He knew in his heart
that Glorfindel lived, yet still fear nagged at him.  What if he were wounded?  Then a
far more frightening thought occurred to him:  what if the Úlairi had taken him back to
Barad-dûr?  He closed his eyes tight and shook his head, as if to shake off the
frightening vision.

A snapping twig caused him to look up quickly, and he saw Asfaloth walking down the path
toward their house.  The stallion came alone.  "No," Erestor whispered.  He knew
Asfaloth would never return without Glorfindel, not unless he had no other choice.  He
rose from the chair on unsteady legs.  It was then that he saw his mate following the
horse, his cloak drawn tight.  He looked weary; beyond weary, really.  Erestor then
feared that Glorfindel was wounded.  

Bolting from the porch he ran toward him in the moonlight, across the field and garden
that made up their front yard.  As he drew closer, he saw Glorfindel smile wearily at
him and noticed one hand was behind his back.

"Glorfindel!" Erestor shouted breathlessly, then buried his face in his mate's golden
mane as Glorfindel caught him in his arms.

"Mmmm…" Glorfindel murmured as he held Erestor close.  "I have missed you, my love.  You
smell so good."

"Thank the Valar you are safe," Erestor whispered.  "I was so frightened when Asfaloth
came back without you.  Then, just now, when he came down the path and you were not
riding him…"

"I am sorry, my raven," Glorfindel answered softly.  He released Erestor.  "I stopped to
pick these for you…"  He handed Erestor a bouquet of fresh lavender and jasmine.

Erestor accepted the flowers with a smile, inhaling deeply of their perfumed fragrance,
he then took Glorfindel's hand and guided him back to the house.  "You look tired."

"I am.  I found Estel and the hobbits near the Bruinen ford.  The Úlairi were indeed
following close and Frodo was already wounded.  That is why I sent him ahead alone, he
was not going to last much longer."

Erestor nodded.  "He arrived just in time, Lord Elrond was able to heal him and call him
back.  Bilbo is much relieved to see his nephew will recover."

"He has it, Erestor," Glorfindel said quietly as they mounted the steps to the porch.
"That is why he was wounded, and that is why the Úlairi were pursuing them.  I can feel
it even now, the heavy blackness that is imbued in that cursed Ring radiates out from it
like a dark mist."

Erestor shuddered and squeezed Glorfindel's hand tight.  "What are we to do now?"  

"I do not know, only Lord Elrond can help us decide that."  He took a deep breath.  "It
is amazing that one so small and so innocent can bear it with such strength."

"His strength is in his innocence," Erestor answered.

Glorfindel nodded.  "Aye.  You are wise as always, my love."

"One of us has to be," Erestor answered with a smirk.

Glorfindel laughed and shook his head.  "I do love you so, Erestor."

Erestor smiled and nuzzled Glorfindel's ear, sighing as his mate held him close.  "And I
love you, my brave, beautiful Glorfindel," he answered.  "Come," he murmured, his lips
caressing his beloved's ear.  "You need a bath."

"Yes, my love," Glorfindel answered huskily.

"And if you are really good, I might be persuaded to rub your back." Erestor smiled
coyly as he tugged upon Glorfindel's hand.

"Oh, I will be good." Glorfindel winked.

*    *    *    *

Legolas gazed down upon the valley as Elrond's guard waved him on.  He held up his hand
in reply, then nudged his mare into a slow canter toward the Last Homely House.  He was
weary, wearier than he recalled being in a long time.  The ride had been uneventful,
there had been no sightings of orcs despite the evidence that they had been in the wilds
of Eregion.  He looked forward to taking a long, hot bath and sleeping in a soft bed,
but he did not look forward to delivering the news of the creature's escape to Lord
Elrond and Mithrandir.  

He missed his home.  He missed his father.  The way things had been left between them
caused his heart to ache, but in the long nights of his journey, he had thought of
nothing but that.  Despite his searching, despite his pleas to the Valar for an answer
to what seemed to be a dilemma without a solution, he had no answer.  There was no
remedy for what ailed both him and his father, his king.  What had he done?  What had
they done to deserve such a punishment?  Yet, love was not punishment.  Would he trade
the love he felt for the opportunity to love another?  No.  He would not.  Though their
love could not be realized, he would hold to it tightly; he would carry it with him
always and it would bear him up during the darkest and most hopeless of times.  ‘I will
never love another,' he thought to himself.

He took a deep breath and buried the pain deep.  He held his head high as he rode
through the valleys of Imladris.  He was a prince, he was a warrior, and he was beloved
of his king.  Pride would gird his heart, pride would toughen him for battle, and pride
would keep him on his feet when all others would fall around him.  He was Legolas
Thranduilion and he would make his father and his people proud. 

To be continued…


Title: Winds of War, 9/?
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 explore a new path.  Legolas is reunited with the twins.


Rúmil sat on the ground, leaning back against the trunk of a tree as he watched Galen
fishing in the river.  His arm was in a sling and he only had a slight bit of tenderness
in his ribs.  In the week or so since his injuries, Galen had been a constant and
diligent companion and caretaker.  Rúmil had enjoyed his company as well as his
attentions, and it was with some regret that he realized he would soon no longer need
Galen's care.  

He smiled and nodded his head in appreciation as Galen hauled a large fish from the
river and turned to show it to him.  He wondered what culinary miracle his companion
would work concerning the catch.  Watching as Galen said a quick blessing of thanks to
both the fish for the giving of its life and to the Valar for his luck in catching it,
Rúmil found he had grown quite fond of his one-time apprentice.  

Galen was passing fair, tall and lithe, even for their kind.  His silver hair had hints
of gold owing to his mixed heritage of Sindar and Silvan.  His eyes were large and kind,
sparkling like the shimmering blue-gray pools of Galadriel's garden.  His lips were full
and soft, curving in a delightful way when he smiled.  His skin, pale and smooth like
fine alabaster, flushed the most beautiful shade of rose when he was complimented.  

Rúmil knew it would be inappropriate for him to pursue Galen as long as Galen was under
his command, and Haldir had already suggested as much.  To Haldir's credit, his elder
brother also suggested that perhaps Galen's talents would be better used as a member of
Celeborn's guard, and in that vein, Orophin would make an excellent tutor.  Rúmil had to
smile when he thought of it:  Haldir the matchmaker.  What an unlikely role for his
elder brother to play.  Perhaps it was because Haldir found himself quite preoccupied
with a lovely elf-maid under Galadriel's tutelage, or perhaps it was because his elder
brother wished to see him happy.  Whatever the reason, Rúmil found it both endearing and
quite humorous to see Haldir dropping hints and suggestions in what he perceived to be
an inconspicuous manner.

Rúmil's thoughts returned to the moment at hand as Galen climbed the bank, the basket
with the fish under one arm and his fishing pole in the opposite hand.  A warm smile
curved his lips as Galen approached, and he found himself feeling both light and
carefree for the first time in many years.

"It is much larger than I thought I would find this time of year," Galen said quietly.
"I think the one is more than enough for both of us."

"Agreed," Rúmil answered.  He patted the ground beside him.  "Come sit with me for
awhile, it is a lovely afternoon."

"Aye," Galen answered, setting down the basket with the fish and laying his pole beside
it.  "How are you feeling?  Are you tired?"

"No, not in the least," Rúmil answered.  "As a matter of fact, I am feeling better than
I have in a very long time."

"Can I get you something to drink?  Is there water in your flask?" Galen reached across
Rúmil to check the status of his water bag.

Rúmil leaned forward, breathing in Galen's scent and enjoying the close proximity of his
student's body to his own.  "I am fine, Galen," he answered softly.

Galen froze with one hand on the ground for support and the other upon the water bag.
He felt his heart galloping in his chest and hoped that Rúmil did not hear it.  Unsure
as to whether he should move or no, he turned his head slowly and looked into Rúmil's
eyes.  Rúmil was so close he could feel his mentor's breath upon his face.  His lips
quivered slightly at the proximity of Rúmil's mouth to his own.  ‘Please, Elbereth,' he
thought.  ‘Please let him be about to…'

A small whimpering moan escaped Galen as Rúmil pressed his lips to his mouth.  The kiss
was soft, chaste almost, if not for the heat they both felt building between them.  

"Just as I thought," Rúmil murmured against Galen's lips.  "Softer than rose petals and
sweeter than ripe strawberries…"

Galen released the water bag and took Rúmil's face in his hands, hungrily claiming his
elder's lips.  The deep, reverberating moan that echoed in Rúmil's chest only furthered
his desire, and Galen groaned as he felt Rúmil's mouth open to his impassioned request.

Something that had lay dormant for a long time was reawakened in Rúmil.  He once again
felt joy and comfort in the physical presence of another, he felt longing and heat; he
felt desire and fulfillment.

"I have wanted this for so long," Galen whispered as he released Rúmil's mouth.

"Why did you not say so?" Rúmil murmured as he nuzzled Galen's lips.

"I was afraid.  You are my tutor, my elder, and my captain.  I was afraid you would
chastise me for being inappropriate."

"I most likely would have," Rúmil admitted.  "I was not ready then; I am now."

Galen settled himself across Rúmil's lap.  "Are you sure?  I know you cared for him very
much…"

"I did and still do," Rúmil answered.  "But my destiny lies not with him."

"Whom does it lie with?" Galen whispered against Rúmil's mouth.

"I know not, but I do know that I care for you.  I know that you have become my closest
friend; and I know that I want you more than I have wanted anyone for many years."

Galen smiled broadly, a sight that often gave Rúmil much joy.  "Then you shall have me,
as often and in as many different ways as you can dream of."

Rúmil smiled and laughed softly.  "Be careful what you wish for, fair Galen," he
answered with a seductive smile.

"You will be my tutor in more than just battle, Rúmil," Galen responded in a breathy
whisper.

Rúmil's fingers trailed over Galen's flushed cheek, followed the line of his jaw and
throat, and lingered just inside his high, buttoned up collar.  "Do not say that one as
beautiful and warm as you has never known a lover's bed…"

"Never, not fully," Galen responded.  "There have been the clumsy fumbling touches and
awkward kisses that occur when one comes of age, but I have never really known a lover's
touch."

Rúmil's mouth closed in on Galen's.  "I will teach you well, my friend, have no fear."

Galen smiled seductively as he leaned closer.  "I have no fear of you…"

*    *    *    *

Elrohir rolled his head from left to right as the stable hands took their horses.
Elladan clasped his shoulder and motioned toward the Last Homely House and he followed
his elder twin and lover up the long stairway toward the house of their birth.  Elladan
had been reluctant to return home; he did not want to see their father so soon after the
realization that Elrond knew of their love.  However, they had news that was important
to both their father and Estel, and that news required that they come home.  

Mounting the stairs in the moonlight, they encountered Lindir on his nightly walk
through the gardens.  Stopping to exchange greetings, they learned from the minstrel
that two esteemed visitors had arrived and their father had called a council involving
the leaders of many peoples across Middle-earth.  Among the esteemed visitors was a
certain Sindarin prince.  Elladan smiled as Elrohir's eyes lit up and he thanked Lindir
as he followed his brother's quick footsteps toward the guest wing.

"He is here, Elladan!" Elrohir exclaimed in an excited whisper.  "I have so wished to
see him these many years."

"As have I, Elrohir.  I hope the passage of time finds him well and still amiable to our
company."

Elrohir chuckled and shook his head.  He paused in his stride and turned to look at his
brother.  "Perhaps he is asleep… Should we wait until morning?"  Before Elladan could
reply, he answered his own question.  "No, of course not.  He will be as anxious to see
us as we are to see him."

Elladan nodded and grinned, then continued to follow Elrohir toward Legolas' guest
quarters.

*    *    *    *

Legolas stood upon the balcony of his guest room, gazing out over the moonlit valley of
Imladris.  All around him were Eru's most beautiful creations: waterfalls, trees of
birch and spruce and oak with their leaves beginning to turn brilliant shades of orange,
red and gold.  The scents of fresh pine, snow, and clear running water filled his
nostrils, yet all he could think of was home.  He imagined he could smell the jasmine
and fir trees, taste the fresh blackberries and cold clear water.  He could hear the
crackling of the fire, the sputtering of the torches that lit the corridors, hear his
father's footsteps echoing in the unique cadence of his long, easy stride.  

His arms were wrapped tight around his waist, his eyes closed and his head inclined
toward the heavens.  He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear his dearest
friends enter his chamber.

Immediately, Elrohir knew something was wrong.  He saw it in the tightness of Legolas'
frame, as if he were bracing himself against some heavy blow.  He felt Elladan squeeze
his shoulder and he nodded, crossing the room as Elladan locked the bedchamber door.

Legolas jumped slightly as Elrohir's hands came to rest upon his chest, and Elrohir
swallowed a growing lump in his throat as his friend's eyes opened and his sapphire gaze
leveled upon his own.

"What is the cause for the pain you suffer?" he asked Legolas softly.

Legolas closed his eyes tight and shook his head.

Elladan stood behind the prince, his strong hands upon his shoulders, encouraging
Legolas to rest against him.  "We are your closest friends, my prince; there is nothing
you can tell us that would cause us to judge you.  Trust us, Legolas, let us help you,"
Elladan whispered.

"I dare not give what I feel voice; I dare not utter the words,"  Legolas' voice was
tight with mourning.

Elrohir replied, "This pain will consume you, Legolas.  Share the burden with us.  We
love you, we want to help you."
Elrohir watched the tightening of Legolas' throat as a tear fell down his cheek.  "I
cannot," Legolas' replied.

"Then let me say the words that are trapped in your throat," Elladan replied.  "You love
him; with all your heart and all your soul, you love your king, your father.  Your heart
is in his keeping; you long for him and that longing is threatening to consume you
whole."

Elladan knew, as he had known all along, that he was right when Legolas ceased to resist
his arms.  He wrapped them around the prince and held him tight as the tears began to
fall down Legolas' cheeks.

"What kind of cruel punishment is this?" Legolas questioned hoarsely.  "How can this be?
How can my heart belong where it does not?"  He shook his head roughly.  "Nay, I will
not say that, for it is not true.  My heart belongs where it is meant to be.  If I were
another elf, I could love him as I long to.  But I am his son, how can we…"

Elrohir pressed his fingertips to Legolas' lips.  "You have only just begun to
understand this, Legolas.  Do not question what has been foretold by the Valar.  Why
this has come to pass only they know.  Elladan and I understand the pain and fear you
feel.  You must make your own choice, but know that whatever that might be, we will
stand by you and we will love you still."

Elrohir leaned forward and pressed his lips to Legolas' mouth.  The kiss was warm and
comforting, familiar.  The passion that had existed between them was still there, and
both he and Elladan could sense that Legolas needed them more than he ever had in his
life.  

Elrohir watched Elladan lean into Legolas' and whisper into his ear.  

"Let us love you, Legolas, as we have before.  We are no substitute for the one you
want, but perhaps we can ease your burden, if only for a little while."

Legolas nodded as his hands came to rest upon Elladan's hips.  "I have missed you, both
of you," he whispered.  A shuddering sigh escaped his lips as Elrohir's mouth moved to
his neck.  He allowed them to guide him to the bed and remove his clothes.  What he
needed most, he could not have, but what he had before him would ease his pain and
perhaps give him strength to do what he had to do.


To be continued…




Title: Winds of War, 10/?
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: Glorfindel and Erestor play a little afternoon game.  Elrohir worries about
Legolas.  Thranduil looks for distraction.

Glorfindel wadded the bedcovers in his fists and arched, a deep moan escaping his lips.
A thin layer of sweat beaded upon his skin despite the chill of the autumn afternoon
air.  A log popped and hissed in the fireplace as Erestor's lips and tongue soothed the
mark left on his backside by his teeth.  His heart hammered an insistent and quickening
rhythm, and the silk that bound his wrists creaked against the polished wood of the
headboard.

His arms and legs were splayed wide, bound to the posts of the bed; his eyes were
covered by Erestor's black sash.  His senses were assaulted from all directions: the
scent and sounds of the fire, the possessive touch of his mate's hands, the maddening
slide of silk against his hot skin.  He bit his lower lip to stifle the plea that
threatened to escape; Erestor liked prolonging this sensual torment for hours at times.
The bed rose beneath him and he groaned into the pillow, the muffled sound causing a
soft chuckle to escape his mate's lips.

Erestor stood by the hearth, his own skin covered in sweat, his arousal standing hard
against his thigh.  He took a deep drought of wine, then gazed at the few remaining
drops in the glass before raising an eyebrow and looking at the beautiful, aroused form
of his bonded mate.  He tapped the glass with his forefinger, the edge of his fingernail
clinking against the glass, and he looked out across the hills toward the west.  Gauging
by the position of the sun, he and Glorfindel had been at this for quite some time.  His
own body was beginning to protest as the ache in his loins grew sharper.

Sauntering back across the room, he poured the few remaining drops of wine into the
hollow of Glorfindel's lower back, where it formed a small pool.  Glorfindel held
perfectly still, so as not to allow the wine to spill upon the fresh linens, and Erestor
dipped his tongue into the small, ruby puddle.  He watched as Glorfindel's exquisite
backside quivered, the long, powerful muscles in his legs trembled, and his shoulders
tightened into perfect, oblong balls of iron as he strained against his bonds.

"Never in all of Arda has there been a more perfect creation," he murmured as he gazed
at his aroused mate.

Glorfindel set his jaw and ground out from clenched teeth, "I am most pleased that you
appreciate me, my love.  But I would most appreciate you providing me with some relief…"

Erestor tapped the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Tsk, tsk.  Such an
impatient one you are."  He uncorked the phial of oil they kept by the bed and poured a
small amount into his hand.

"Forgive me," Glorfindel ground out in barely contained frustration.  "I did not mean to
rush you."

"Now that is an obedient Balrog Slayer," Erestor answered appreciatively as he stroked
Glorfindel's back.  "Do be a dear and lift your hips, Glorfindel."  He watched as
Glorfindel struggled to comply with his command.  "Oh dear," he sighed.  "I suppose I
need to untie your ankles."

"That would be helpful…"

Erestor raised an eyebrow.  "That would be helpful, what…"

Glorfindel stifled a sigh.  "That would be helpful . . . master."

Erestor grinned.  "Excellent.  Well done, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel muttered into the pillow, "When I get loose, I swear to Elbereth…"

"I am sorry, my pet; did you say something?"

"No . . . master."

Erestor grinned.  He knew full well the price that would be paid as soon as he untied
Glorfindel, and that alone made the whole exercise worth it.  He untied his mate's
ankles and patted him on the backside.  "Now, lift your hips, my pet."

Glorfindel pulled his stiff legs underneath him and raised his hips off the bed.
Another, more insistent groan escaped him as Erestor's oiled fingertip circled his
entrance. 

"You have been a good Balrog Slayer, my pet.  You have earned your reward."  Erestor bit
his lower lip as he slid his oiled finger inside the body of his beloved.  The urgent
and needful moan that escaped Glorfindel nearly caused him to spend on the spot.
Carefully, but quickly, he prepared his beloved as he prepared himself.  He then leaned
over Glorfindel, his lips caressing the point of his ear.  

"Do you want me?" Erestor asked huskily.

"Always," came his beloved's reply.

"Then have me," he answered as he entered Glorfindel's body.

Glorfindel cried out as he tightened against the familiar invasion, then he rocked back
against Erestor's hips, burying his mate's length inside his body.  The suddenness of
the movement surprised Erestor, and Glorfindel heard Erestor's gasp and felt his fingers
tighten upon his hips.

"Valar," Erestor breathed, as he struggled to maintain control.  Quickly, he began to
ride his mate's body and soon he was thrusting into him with abandon.  His oiled fingers
tightened around Glorfindel's heavy length, withholding his mate's release as he felt
his own quickly rising.

Glorfindel groaned as his body tightened and his length twitched inside of Erestor's
powerful grip.  Tears of both pain and rapture wet the blindfold, and he felt Erestor
spill inside him.  His chest heaved with each rapid breath and his body trembled with
his denied release as he felt Erestor collapse upon his back.  His mate held him in his
grip until his length stilled, then slowly Erestor released him and began untying the
slips of silk that still bound his wrists.

Glorfindel moved his arms slowly as the feeling returned to his fingertips and Erestor
slipped from his body.  He had to be careful; if he moved before his body could obey his
command, Erestor would escape and he would be left to find his own fulfillment.  If he
feigned submission successfully, then he could catch his wily lover off guard and have
his revenge.

Erestor murmured his appreciation in his ear while stroking his hair.  Glorfindel purred
like a cat, slowly lowering both of their bodies to the bed.  Erestor's skillful hands
kept his desire at a fevered pitch with soft caresses.  He recognized the soft, sleepy
tone his mate's voice took on as the warm afterglow of spent desire overtook him.  Now
was the time.  Now was his opportunity.  Summoning what strength and control he had
left, he flipped Erestor off his back and quickly rolled on top of him.

Erestor barked in surprise, then laughed softly as Glorfindel pinned his wrists to the
bed.  "Have I been a naughty librarian?"

Glorfindel grinned wickedly from beneath the blindfold and lowered his taut and aroused
body to Erestor's.  "Yes, you have."

Erestor grinned, then feigned dismay as he turned his face away from Glorfindel's.
"What will be my punishment?"

"Oh, I think you know…"

Erestor bent his knees and raised his legs over Glorfindel's hips.  "Tit for tat?"

Glorfindel tugged on Erestor's lower lip with his teeth.  "You would like that, wouldn't
you?"

"Oh, no.  I would hate it; I would absolutely hate it, loathe it, in fact.  It would be
the worst thing you could ever do.  Only throwing me to the fires of Mordor would be
worse… no, wait, even that would be more bearable than…"

Glorfindel clamped his hand over Erestor's mouth.  "Shut up and hand me the oil, you
imp."

Erestor nodded, grinning beneath Glorfindel's hand.  He complied with his beloved's
request and closed his eyes blissfully as Glorfindel's strong, slick hand slid between
them.  He sighed and arched his back as Glorfindel's finger entered his body and his
beloved's hand slipped from his mouth.  "I love you," he breathed.

Glorfindel's large, strong hand caressed his face.  "I love you, my raven," his
beloved's deep voice answered.

Erestor removed Glorfindel's blindfold and wrapped his arms around him, suckling at his
throat as he accepted his mate's length inside him.  Glorfindel was always gentle,
always loving.  Erestor never ceased being amazed at how gentle his fearsome warrior
could be.  He buried his hands in his mate's heavy, golden locks, opening his mouth to
Glorfindel's claiming kiss as he took him inside his body again and again.  Each kiss,
each touch was more fulfilling than the last. 

A smile curved his lips as a deep shuddering moan escaped him, his own desire had
rekindled and the quickening, rhythmic motion of their bodies beckoned.  His turgid and
heated length, trapped between their bodies began to swell, and he whispered into
Glorfindel's ear, "Come with me, my love.  Come with me to that place that belongs only
to you and me…"

Glorfindel answered him with a deep, passionate moan, and he thrust deep inside him as
they found their mutual rapture.  They curled against one another and Glorfindel pulled
the covers up around them.  Erestor lay on his side, his left arm stretched out and his
right hand holding Glorfindel's beneath his chin.  He rotated his wrist and folded his
fingers inside of Glorfindel's, gazing at the matching mithril bands on their fingers.

"My husband, my mate," he whispered.

"That I am," Glorfindel replied softly.  "And you are mine.  My love, my life."  His arm
tightened around Erestor's waist.

Erestor smiled in satisfaction and snuggled back against his beloved, then they both
drifted into reverie.

*    *    *    *

Elrohir gazed at Elladan.  Legolas lie between them, his head resting on Elladan's
chest, his arms wrapped tight around Elladan's waist.  Legolas clung to Elladan much the
same way he did; his beloved was a rock for the prince just as he was a rock for him.
It was not difficult to share Elladan with Legolas, for he loved Legolas nearly as much
as he loved his twin.  He snuggled closer to Legolas, resting his head on the back of
the prince's shoulder.  He felt Elladan's hand on the back of his head, stroking his
hair in the way he had always done when he thought his little brother needed comfort or
reassurance.  He reached across and rested his hand on Elladan's hip.  

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, Elrohir," Elladan answered.

"He needs us," Elrohir answered.

"Badly," Elladan agreed.

"Will he be all right?"

"I do not know.  He is strong, much stronger than many give him credit for."

"But this is so much to bear."

"We bear it."

"We bear it together.  He must bear it alone."

"No.  Not alone.  Thranduil is with him, he will always be with him."

Elrohir nodded.  "I love him, Elladan."

"As do I, and he loves us.  We will help him through this, Elrohir."

Elrohir closed his eyes, drifting into reverie as the sun set in the west.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil held a piece of parchment in his hand as his falcon looked on.  He rolled it
back up after reading it again, smiled, placed a kiss on it, and then threw it into the
fire.  "So wise for one so young," he said softly.  He leaned back in his chair and
twisted the ring upon his finger.  "Dark times are coming, Arphen," he said quietly.
"Dreams of the Dagorlad and my father haunt me.  War comes.  I only pray I have the
strength to save my home."

A soft knock upon his study door broke his musing and he looked up to find one of his
courtesan's standing in his doorway.  He smiled and nodded, then rose from his chair.
Taking the youth's hand he said softly, "Come, make me forget my troubles for awhile."

The courtesan bowed his head and answered in deep soft voice, "As always, my lord."

Thranduil led the young beauty to his bedchamber and left the troubles of the world
behind for awhile.


To be continued…