Title: Through the Eyes of a Child

Author: Morgana
Author’s Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon

Main paring; Thranduil/Lindir.

Side pairings: Elrohir/Legolas, Dûrel/Elrond, Elladan/Glorfindel and Erestor/Ereinion.
Haldir/Melpomaen mentioned.

Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Now that Dûrel has become the new High-King of the Firstborn, peace returns to
Imladris. But for some there is no peace yet. Thranduil, accompanied by Lindir, travels
home and deals with memories he never felt strong enough to face before.

Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.
Warnings: mention/memories of severe child abuse. Thranduil witnesses murder and
violence. This story is completely AU, of course.

Author’s Note: this is the sequel to Inside the Dark Forest the Secret Lies.

Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have
written this story without your help!

All remaining mistakes are mine.

 

Through the Eyes of a Child

Part 5

 

 

The old oak had seen many things in its long life. The tree had seen Oropher come into
power, had witnessed the King’s spiritual demise and had more than once offered its shade
to Thranduil when the Woodland Elf had been a boy. /On those rare occasions when Oropher
let him out of the caves!/ Seeing Thranduil approach now, its leaves rustled welcomingly
and the branches moved in his direction as well.

 

“My good old friend,” whispered Thranduil, once he had reached the old oak tree. He
rested the palms of his hands against the trunk and allowed for his feelings of gratitude
to show. He had been rather isolated as a child. None of the Elves dared approach or help
him, but the nature surrounding him had always cared for him. This tree especially had
always been concerned for his well-being.

 

The oak moved a branch and its tip gently touched Thranduil’s hair, accepting the King’s
feelings and approving of them.

 

“Ada1!” Legolas ran toward his father, a bit concerned to see the absentminded expression
on Thranduil’s face.

 

Thranduil gently severed the temporary connection to the tree and turned around to
welcome his son. He froze, seeing red-rimmed eyes. Had his son cried? Had Elrohir made
Legolas cry? If that was the case he would speak with the half-Elf and make certain it
would never happen again!

 

Legolas belatedly realized that his eyes must still show the evidence that he had wept
and quickly offered a reassuring smile. Extending his arms and opening them, he enfolded
them around his father. A quick probing of the emerald eyes told him that they were free
of ghosts for the moment. “I need to talk to you.”

 

“If this is Elrohir’s doing then…” Thranduil had pulled away and raised a hand, gently
touching his son’s fluttering eyelids.

 

“Nay, Elrohir has nothing to do with the fact that I wept.” Legolas knew better than to
deny that he had cried when it was so obvious that he had. He began to walk away from the
old oak tree to a section where they would have some privacy. Once he had reached it, he
sat down on a fallen tree trunk and waited for his father to join him. Here, they were
shielded from curious looks. “I found this.” He uncovered the drawing and handed it to
Thranduil, unable to hide the fact that his hands shook fiercely. “Is it my grandmother?”

 

Thranduil’s heart missed a beat, seeing the drawing which he had believed lost. “Where
did you find it?” His hands were surprisingly steady when he took hold of the tattered
piece of paper.

 

“In your room – down in the caves.” Legolas eyed his father carefully, relieved that
Thranduil still controlled his emotions. If his father broke down in tears, so would he.

 

“You went into the caves? Without me?” Thranduil raised his eyes and probed Legolas’ blue
ones. They were swimming. “Why would you do that?”

 

“I have seen your pain for some time now and I want to help. But I do not know how. I
thought that I would learn more when I went down into the caves again.” Legolas
involuntarily held his breath, seeing his father’s stunned expression.

 

“You should not have done that. The caves have become dangerous, unstable. You could have
been buried beneath the rubble.” Thranduil stared at the drawing, recalling which
question Legolas had asked him. “Aye, this is Gaelveril, your grandmother. I drew her
shortly after she died to keep her memory alive. I was afraid that I would forget what
she had looked like.”

 

Legolas knew he might never get this chance again and risked it all. “Prior to locking
Saerif in the maze, he said something that still bothers me. He said something about your
mother’s dying screams still haunting you. Did you witness her death?”

 

Feeling paralyzed, Thranduil continued to stare at the drawing. He had never thought that
Legolas would ever ask him that! His thoughts raced; what should he say? He couldn’t tell
his son the truth!

 

His father’s silence worried Legolas and made him uncover the booklet. He hadn’t planned
on revealing it just yet, but his father’s reaction left him little choice. “I also found
this.” Next to him, Thranduil gasped and a shudder coursed through his father’s body.
Legolas couldn’t help himself and reached out, wrapping an arm around Thranduil’s
shoulders. “Please do not run away from this.”

 

Thranduil glared at the booklet. “I should have destroyed it! Burned it!” Now it had come
back to haunt him!

 

“It is your diary, isn’t it? A diary, which you kept as a child.” Legolas noticed the
venomous look Thranduil gave the booklet and almost regretted showing it to his father,
but there was no return now. They had to follow through. “Elrohir deciphered your
writing, Ada. We read parts of your diary and we know what happened to Gaelveril.”

 

“You do?” Shocked, Thranduil closed his eyes, blocking the booklet from his view.

 

“Aye, we know Oropher had her murdered and we suspect it was Saerif who committed the
foul deed so Oropher’s hands would remain clean of blood.”

 

“The blood… There was so much blood and some of it splashed onto my hands… I can still
see it there… No matter how many times I wash my hands, it won’t come off.” Thranduil
swallowed, convulsively, forcing back the tears lurking in his eyes. “I never wanted you
to find out.”

 

“Why? Why wasn’t I supposed to know how much you suffered? How much you are still
suffering?” Legolas rubbed large, soothing circles onto his father’s back.

 

Thranduil shook his head. “I did not want you to know how evil Oropher really was. I was
afraid that you would think that I would become the same. I did my best to be the best
parent I could be.”

 

Thranduil’s pleading expression broke Legolas’ heart. “You are the best parent I could
ever wish for, Ada.”

 

“When you were born, I was so afraid that I would turn into Oropher; that I would make
the same mistakes and become a monster like he was. I was determined to do better than he
did; to love you, cherish and protect you. And you returned that love, unconditionally.
You saved me, Legolas. You saved my sanity and you saved me from my fears.”

 

Legolas stared at his father in disbelief. “You were afraid you would become like him?”

 

“My mother told me that Oropher had not always been that harsh, that… evil. She said that
when they were married that he was a gentle Elf, who sang and recited poetry for her. He
changed.” Thranduil’s eyes were once more magically drawn to the booklet. “He changed
into this monster, so what would stop me from doing the same after you were born?”

“Did she also mention when he started to change?” Legolas’ eyes had narrowed. This might
be the only chance he got to discuss this with his father and he wanted to get as much
information as he could!

 

Thranduil frowned, trying to remember. “She said it started after Saerif and his
accomplices joined Oropher’s forces. They are not from Mirkwood originally. My mother
always thought they belonged to the Elves which took part in that very first Kinslaying.
I was too little, too young, to ask questions. I did not understand why Oropher was
acting like that in the first place.”

 

/And we locked Saerif in the maze. I wonder if he is still alive./ Saerif seemed to hold
the key to their answers, but those answers were out of his reach.

 

“Would you give the booklet to me?” Thranduil didn’t want Legolas to read about the other
things Oropher and Saerif had done to him.

 

Legolas gave his father a long, hard look and then said in a clipped tone, “Nay, not
yet.”

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened, revealing shock. “You refuse?”

 

“Ada, this booklet is important to me. I need to know what you wrote down, what happened
to you.”

 

“But why?” Reading it would only bring Legolas sorrow! Damn it, why did Elrohir have to
succeed in deciphering it?

 

“Because you are a part of me, and when you hurt, I hurt. I need to understand in order
to help.” Legolas slipped the booklet back into the folds of his shirt. “Would you like
to keep the drawing, Ada?” He had no connection to his grandmother, as he had never known
her, but Thranduil might like to have her portrait close again.

 

“Legolas, you must stop reading in that booklet. It contains the ravings of a small
child, half of the time ill with fever and distorted perception!”

 

/I doubt that very much. I believe it contains the brutal truth about your childhood./
Legolas pulled his father close and buried him in a loose embrace. “Have faith in me,
Ada.”

 

What could he say to do that? Very little. Legolas placed the drawing in his hands and
Thranduil’s thumb gently moved over the paper. “She was a good person, Legolas. A good
mother and a good wife.”

 

“I believe you, Ada.”

 

They grew silent after that, each Elf busy processing what he had learned.

 

~~~

 

Dûrel inhaled the familiar scent and his brain slowly allowed in the truth that Erestor
was holding him. “How can this be?” Looking into large, dark eyes his heart swelled with
happiness. “Is it really you?”

 

Erestor tightened the embrace and held his son close. Tears dripped from his chin, but
those were tears of happiness, as he was smiling brightly at his child. “I thought I
would never hold you in my arms again. Let me look at you!” Dûrel looked healthy and
happy, and the smile that his son returned warmed Erestor’s heart. “I am so sorry for
dying that day. I did not want to leave you alone.”

 

Dûrel’s breath caught. “I missed you… I mourned your death. You were the only friend I
ever had – and the best. I just wish you had told me that I am your son.”

 

Mithrandír took hold of Elrond’s arm and guided the half-Elf away from the reunited
Elves. “Give them a moment.” At a nod from his head, Glorfindel joined them. “This is
quite unexpected for both of them.”

 

“Both of them?” Elrond glared at the Wizard.

 

“I doubt Erestor fully understood what to expect upon arriving in Imladris!” Mithrandír
returned the glare. “I was summoned to Aman to collect Erestor and to escort him to
Imladris. I was not privy to more details.”

 

Elrond’s gaze shifted from Mithrandír to Erestor. Just seeing Ereinion’s Chief Advisor
brought back certain memories. He no longer resented Erestor for holding Ereinion’s
heart, but he did worry how Erestor would react when learning he was mated to Dûrel now.
/Will Erestor think that I went for the son because I could not have the father?/ And
what did that thought say about his own insecurities?

 

Erestor sensed Elrond’s inner turmoil, but ignored it, focusing on his son instead. He
led Dûrel to the couch situated beneath the window and sat him down. Seated next to his
son, he clasped Dûrel’s hands in his, rubbing them. “I wanted to tell you that you are my
son,” he started, “But I had promised Ereinion not to – not until evil had been
destroyed. Ereinion was worried that Sauron would use you against him.”

 

Dûrel stared at Erestor’s fingers, caressing the back of his hand. “I cannot believe you
are here with me!”

 

Erestor promptly buried his son in a warm hug. “Believe it.”

 

“Are you here to stay?” whispered Dûrel into Erestor’s ear.

 

“Aye, I believe so. Manwë and Námo told me that I had been granted a second life on Arda
so I could be with you.” Erestor pulled back so he could look into his son’s confused
eyes. “Ereinion wants you to know that he always loved you and that he regrets not being
the father you so rightly deserve. But the times were different back then. Sauron was
lurking on our doorstep and I had foreseen Ereinion’s death. There was so much… danger,
evil surrounding us that it must have blinded us to your needs.”

 

Dûrel raised a shaky hand and caressed Erestor’s face, catching a tear with his
fingertip. “You loved me. Even though I did not know what I was your son, I knew you
loved me. I thought of you as the mother and father I never had. I loved you.”

 

“Thank you,” whispered Erestor, whose heart was finally calming down. “To tell you the
truth… I was actually scared to meet you. I was afraid you would reject me. And you could
have done so rightly. I made many mistakes. One of them, the worst of them all, was
keeping you hidden too long.”

 

“Nay, you did the right thing,” said Dûrel in a kind voice. Eager to touch Erestor, he
cradled the Chief Advisor’s hand in his. “Oropher’s assassins would have found us. They
did, in the end, but only because I had come out of hiding.”

 

“They are still alive?”

 

“I am not sure,” whispered Dûrel. “Thranduil took them back to Mirkwood. I doubt we will
ever see them again.”

 

“You are safe then?” Erestor studied his son intensely and approved of what he saw.

 

“He is one hundred percent safe here in Imladris!” exclaimed Glorfindel, who had happened
to catch Erestor’s question. “I guarantee his safety!”

 

“Thank you, Lord of the Golden Flower,” said Erestor, realizing that the intimate moment
had past. He rose from the couch and Dûrel followed his example. His son took hold of his
right hand, twining their fingers and refusing to let go. He understood Dûrel’s need for
this prolonged contact and squeezed his son’s fingers.

 

“I am honored that I am allowed to guard our High-King.” Glorfindel ignored Mithrandír,
who was trying to tell him to give Erestor and Dûrel more time and advanced on the two
dark-haired Elves at any rate. Bowing, he said. “I am at your service, Erestor.” Raising
his eyes, he searched Erestor’s. /He has been in the Halls of Mandos and has returned,
just like I did./ That fact alone was enough to form a strong connection between them.

 

Erestor inclined his head in acceptance. “Thank you, Lord Glorfindel. You are an
excellent warrior and your loyalty is a great good, which I will always treasure.” He had
sensed Glorfindel’s thoughts, as they drifted back to the Halls of Waiting and knew
Glorfindel would seek him out to discuss their shared experiences.

 

“Erestor, I…” Elrond nervously shuffled his feet. Much depended on Erestor’s initial
reaction toward him. Would the Chief Advisor accept him as his son’s mate?

 

Erestor drew in a deep breath and then took a step toward the Lord of Imladris. He had
always known about the affection Elrond had felt for Ereinion and that knowledge had made
things a bit uncomfortable whenever they had to deal with each other. But Elrond had
matured, had changed, had suffered his share of losses and had gained wisdom. This Elf
greatly differed from the young, overly zealous warrior that had joined them at the foot
of Mount Doom. “Elrond, we meet again.”

 

The smile that Erestor gave him only served to further Elrond’s nervousness. He had never
known how to interpret those smiles and that hadn’t changed. Erestor had been Ereinion’s
Chief Advisor for several reasons; the Elf was intelligent, cunning and incredibly hard
to read. “I love Dûrel,” he said, eventually, when no other words would come to him.

 

Dûrel, sensing the tension between Elrond and Erestor, wondered where the discomfort was
coming from. Was there something he didn’t know? Something Elrond hadn’t told him?

 

Realizing he was causing his son to worry, Erestor acted quickly. “I know you do.
Ereinion and I witnessed how your love came into existence. We were allowed to watch
certain scenes on the tapestries and although we were a bit surprised to see the two of
you fall in love, we approve.”

 

Elrond breathed an audible sigh of relief. Being accepted as a part of this family was
important to him. “I will have rooms readied and a selection of clothes brought to your
quarters. I trust you will join us for dinner?”

 

“Of course, I will,” said Erestor, realizing Dûrel wasn’t about to let him out of his
sight. He understood his son’s need to have him close – close enough to touch.

 

“Let me give you a tour of the Last Homely House,” said Dûrel in an excited voice. It
would give them a chance to talk some more and Erestor could get acquainted with the
house’s layout.

 

“I would like that,” replied Erestor, after exchanging a look with Elrond. They would
talk in depth later.

 

Elrond smiled, seeing Dûrel this happy. “Be off then. I will see you at dinner.” Dûrel
surprised him by lunging forward and kissing him passionately. The next moment, Dûrel was
pulling Erestor along and then out of the study, leaving Elrond, Glorfindel and
Mithrandír behind.

 

~~~

 

Glorfindel felt as flabbergasted as Elrond did and did his best to reassure and comfort
his friend, seeing the self-doubt on the half-Elf’s face. This was probably not the best
moment to mention his blossoming liaison with Elladan.

 

“You could have warned me!” said Elrond, raising a warning finger in Mithrandír’s
direction. “Were you planning on giving me a heart attack?”

 

“You are immortal, Elrond, stop nagging.” Mithrandír sat down on a comfortable chair and
uncovered his pipe, which he stuffed with pipe weed. “First, Erestor worries about being
returned to Arda and meeting his son and now you worry about having Erestor here.”

 

Glorfindel had grown quiet and seated himself to Mithrandír. “Erestor knows what the
Halls of Waiting are like. I am no longer…”

 

Mithrandír reassuringly patted Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Erestor feels the same way you did
upon your rebirth. He is confused, but much better at hiding it. I do not doubt that in
time the two of you will talk.”

 

“Of all the possible things to happen, I did not foresee or expect this.” Elrond
collapsed on his chair behind the desk and buried his face in his hands.

 

Mithrandír gave the half-Elf an amused look. “Stop fretting Elrond. Erestor accepted you
as his son’s mate. Do not create problems when there are none.”

 

“But… Erestor is…!” Elrond threw his hands in the air to express his distress.

 

“Erestor is Dûrel’s mother, yes, and all parents are fiercely protective of their
children. You, of all people, should know that, Elrond.”

 

“His mother…” whispered Glorfindel. “Mithrandír, do you think that… that Dûrel can have
children as well?” Until now, that possibility hadn’t crossed his mind. Only hearing
Mithrandír phrase it like that had raised this question.

 

“Why don’t you ask Elrond?” suggested Mithrandír with a knowing expression.

 

“I think he can have children, aye. Do you remember Dûrel’s mood swings? He was going
through his first fertility cycle.” Elrond rested the back of his head against the
comfort of his chair. “What am I to do?”

 

“Elrond, this changes nothing between Dûrel and you,” said Mithrandír, who laughed,
seeing the baffled look on Glorfindel’s face. “And aye, you might have a little one
running about again shortly.”

 

A grin surfaced on Glorfindel’s face. “This opens a whole new world of possibilities.”

 

Elrond merely sighed, wondering what the future held in store for him now that Erestor
had returned.

 

~~~

 

“Did you talk to my father yet?” Elladan had stolen into Glorfindel’s private chambers
and had found the blond warrior in front of the window with a silly grin on his face.

 

“Nay, I did not get a chance to ask permission to court you. Something unexpected
happened.” Glorfindel turned around and opened his arms. Elladan moved into them and
rested his head against Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Certain things have happened whilst you
were away on patrol.” He would update Elladan and eventually, they would have to find a
way to tell Elrond about their blossoming love, for he refused to properly court Elladan
until he had Elrond’s formal permission to do so.

 

~~~

 

“Legolas? How did Thranduil react when…?” Elrohir’s voice trailed off, seeing the distant
expression in Legolas’ azure eyes. “Melethron2?”

 

Legolas shook himself from his musings. “He denied nothing.” Words wouldn’t come to him,
so instead, he leaned against Elrohir, resting his head on the half-Elf’s shoulder. /I am
so fortunate to have you./

 

“Did you show him the drawing?”

 

“Aye, and he kept it. He also requested the booklet to be returned to him, but I told him
no.” Legolas smiled, weakly, recalling his father’s shocked expression. “I need to know
everything that happened to him.”

 

“And he accepted your refusal?”

 

“He did not have much of a choice.” Legolas sighed. “I hope that Lindir can be the loving
support my father so desperately needs.”

 

Elrohir sensed Legolas’ intense sorrow and guided him to their bed, where he sat him
down. “Do not get lost in the past, melethron, when it is the present and the future
which matter most.”

 

“You are right,” whispered Legolas, only now growing aware of the fact that Elrohir was
removing his shirt. Lifting an eyebrow, inquisitively, he raised his arms when asked and
Elrohir disposed of the garment. “Elrohir?”

 

“Hush now, melethron, and let me…” Elrohir undid the lacing of Legolas’ leggings and
pushed the fabric aside. “Step out of them for me.”

 

He would be naked, if he did. Legolas’ eyebrow inched higher. He had never seen such
calculation in Elrohir’s eyes before. His lover was up to something! In the end, he
complied and stepped out of his boots and leggings. Naked now, he allowed Elrohir to push
him onto the bed.

 

Elrohir remained kneeling on the floor and parted his lover’s legs. Seeing such sorrow in
Legolas’ eyes had urged him to find a way to replace it with bliss and he knew that there
was one thing that Legolas desired with his whole heart – making love.

 

Legolas quivered under Elrohir’s touch. The half-Elf’s fingers caressed the insides of
his thighs and then moved downward. Unexpectedly, Elrohir lifted his legs and placed them
over his shoulders. Open to any caresses Elrohir might want to bestow on him, Legolas
grew erect. There was something undeniable erotic in being spread out in this way for
Elrohir to touch him. “Meleth3?”

 

“Hush now and enjoy this.” Elrohir licked his lips and his tongue swirled upward, along
the length of his lover’s arousal. He had not yet pleased Legolas orally and hoped he
wouldn’t make any mistakes. He wanted his lover to enjoy this.

 

Legolas threw back his head and his fingers clawed at the sheet when warmth enveloped
him. Lips closed over the head of his erection and a tongue curled itself around the
base. Unable to stop his body from moving, he thrust into that warm mouth.

 

Elrohir used that motion to his advantage and slipped his hands beneath Legolas’
buttocks, supporting his lover. Peeking at Legolas’ face, he found that the eyes had
closed and that the Woodland Elf was biting his bottom lip. Legolas’ breathing became
fast and shallow and the thrusting motion increased. Elrohir sensed his lover’s impending
approach and slipped one finger upward to the cleft until he found the entrance to
Legolas’ quivering body.

 

Legolas’ eyes opened, abruptly, feeling Elrohir touch him in such a private place. In his
relaxed state, his body allowed the intruding digit in and the invasion triggered his
orgasm.

 

Elrohir’s eyes widened, feeling the sticky substance hit the back of his throat. He
controlled his gag reflex and swallowed his lover’s essence.

 

Legolas lay panting, completely at Elrohir’s mercy and he loved every moment of it. So
many sensations coursed through his body! There was Elrohir’s tongue, licking him clean,
that possessive finger still buried inside of him and Elrohir’s hand, firmly cupping his
buttock. And oh, he wanted more! “Elrohir, will you claim me?”

 

Hard himself, Elrohir found it difficult to deny his lover. “Do you really want to do
this now?” He would do anything to make Legolas happy!

 

“Aye, I want you… now… here…” Legolas reached for Elrohir and pulled the still-clothed
half-Elf atop of him. Busy hands undid the lacing of his lover’s tunic and he quickly
disposed of it, eager to feel Elrohir’s skin beneath his fingertips.

 

“We will need oil.” The last thing he wanted was to hurt Legolas during the first time
that they made love.

 

“Near the bathtub.”

 

Elrohir freed himself of Legolas’ octopus-like arms and scrambled off the bed. “I will be
right back!” On his way over to the bathroom, he rid himself of his boots and socks. He
fetched the oil, returned to the bed and peeled off his leggings, which had become sticky
and much too tight. His erection bobbed free and stood proudly, already pointing at
Legolas.

 

“Come here,” said Legolas, breathing hard. Having climaxed a moment before had left him
relaxed and eager for more. “I want to feel you move inside of me.”

 

“I have never done this before,” said Elrohir, climbing back onto the bed and straddling
Legolas’ waist.

 

Legolas licked his top lip and wrapped his fingers around Elrohir’s shaft, which was
already covered in pre-ejaculate. “Neither have I, but I trust you know what to do?”

 

Elrohir nodded, enthusiastically. “I do… And I want you too, Legolas.” The truth was that
he was painfully hard and feeling Legolas’ fingers move along his length was only making
matters worse. He wanted to bury himself in Legolas’ body so he could truly call the
Woodland Elf ‘his’ for the rest of their lives.

 

“Take me…” Legolas squirmed beneath Elrohir, trying to speed up the process.

 

“In what way?” asked Elrohir, briefly returning to rationality. This was Legolas’ first
time and he wondered what position would be best. 

 

Several possible positions flashed through Legolas’ mind and there was one position that
caused his member to twitch with lust. “Let me turn around.”

 

Elrohir’s almost drooled at the sight of Legolas presenting his backside to him. The
Woodland Elf pressed deeper into the mattress and his fingers curled around the bedposts
near the head board.

 

“Oh, meleth…” Elrohir placed his hands on the firm buttocks, massaging them. Leaning
forward, he kissed the nape of Legolas’ neck and dragged the tip of his tongue down his
lover’s spine. Legolas quavered with passion and wriggled his backside.

 

“Please…” Legolas didn’t know how much more torture he could endure. He had grown hard
again and his arousal rubbed against the satin of the sheet, creating a lovely, gentle
friction.

 

“Soon,” crooned Elrohir. He drew in a deep breath, taking control of the situation. He
was in charge now and had to make certain that his lover didn’t get hurt during their
love making. He dipped one finger in the oil and spread the globes to reveal his lover’s
opening. “Tell me if I do something that feels unpleasant and I will stop.”

 

“Oh, do not stop!” Elrohir stopping his sensual ministrations was the last thing Legolas
wanted! His lover’s finger slipped inside again, making him moan. It felt different now
with the oil easing the way in.

 

Elrohir slid his finger in deeper, probing the passage, searching for that special gland
that would bring his lover bliss. He had read about it in books, but that had been
theory. Finding it proved more difficult than he had thought.

 

“More… More!” Legolas threw back his head, looked over his shoulder and made eye contact
with the half-Elf. “I need you, Elrohir!”

 

Elrohir found it hard not to react by burying his length inside the tight passage, but he
controlled this urge. He had to prepare Legolas first! Adding more oil, he returned with
two fingers.

 

Legolas’ fingernails dug into the bedposts, already feeling fuller and then, suddenly,
one of Elrohir’s fingertips touched something inside him that made him pant. His erection
throbbed and he pushed back, eager for Elrohir to rub that particular spot again.

 

Correctly reading Legolas’ responses, Elrohir realized he had hit target. He stroked the
little nub a few more time, drawing pitiful mews from Legolas’ lips.

 

“Elrohir, please have mercy on me!” Legolas yelped the words into the pillow, rubbing his
lower body against the sheet to get more stimulation.

 

Judging his partner ready, Elrohir generously coated his length with oil and took himself
into hand. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of the quivering body in front of him.
Everything about Legolas was beautiful. “I am going to take you now,” he whispered,
guiding himself home.

 

Legolas whimpered with need, finally feeling the head of Elrohir’s shaft pressed against
his entrance.

 

Elrohir forced himself to go slowly, pacing himself. He knew that Legolas was eager to do
this, to be taken, but as a healer, he knew what could happen if they weren’t careful. He
paused, half-sheathed, giving Legolas a chance to adjust to the growing bulk inside him.

 

Legolas arched his back, panted, and his hands slipped from the bedposts. He placed his
hands palms down on the bed and pushed himself upright. On his fours, he felt Elrohir
shift behind him and then…”Oh…” Suddenly Elrohir was completely buried inside him.

 

Elrohir scooted closer and placed his hands around Legolas’ waist. The lithe body
trembled, accepting him inside. “You are so strong, so beautiful.” Elrohir bowed forward
and managed to capture an earlobe between his teeth.

 

Legolas felt full. At first, it felt uncomfortable and he didn’t dare move, but once his
body adjusted to the invasion, the discomfort lessened. Elrohir sucked on his earlobe and
that sensation only caused him to grow even more aroused. “Thrust,” he demanded.

 

Elrohir obeyed and delivered a shallow thrust, aimed at his lover’s prostate. Legolas
yelped, helplessly, bowed his head, and pushed back to meet his next thrust. Elrohir
established a slow and shallow rhythm and managed to slip one hand below Legolas’
abdomen. His fingers wrapped around his lover’s erection and he firmly stroked the hard
flesh.

 

“I am losing my mind,” said Legolas, panting hard. He loved this feeling – the feel of
Elrohir moving inside of him. The act made them one, made him feel connected to the half-
Elf. “I do not want this to stop.”

 

“Legolas, I am close,” whimpered Elrohir. He had tried holding back, but the pressure was
becoming too much. “I am going to come… Do you want me to pull out?”

 

“Nay!” Involuntarily Legolas tightened his inner muscle around Elrohir to keep him from
pulling out.

 

That added stimulation proved too much for Elrohir and he released his seed inside his
lover’s passage. Lost in ecstasy, he released Legolas’ member, encircled his lover’s
waist and forced Legolas to push himself upright. Legolas rested his back against his
chest and Elrohir’s fingers moved upward until they encountered a rock hard nipple.

 

The different position also changed the angle in which Elrohir’s member was moving along
Legolas’ prostate and set off the Woodland Elf’s climax.

 

Legolas threw back his head, resting it against Elrohir’s shoulder and surrendered to the
sensations washing over him. Elrohir was still buried inside him, the half-Elf’s strong
arms held him motionless and teeth now breached the skin near his collarbone. Not even in
his wildest fantasies had he imagined making love would feel this good!

 

Elrohir maintained his hold on Legolas, feeling his lover collapse against him. Gently,
he lowered Legolas back onto the bed, all the while slowly leaving his lover’s body. He
rolled Legolas onto his side and then lay down face to face with him, wrapping arms and
legs around the Woodland Elf’s trembling body. “You glow,” he whispered, savoring the
inner glow that emanated from Legolas’ fëa.

 

Legolas gifted Elrohir with a lazy smile. “It was everything I hoped it would be and
more.”

 

Elrohir didn’t want to bring this up, but knew he should. The healer inside him expected
him to inquire about his lover’s health. “Are you in any pain? Discomfort?”

 

“None… I feel afloat.” Legolas snuggled close to Elrohir and kissed the half-Elf. “Do you
mind taking a short nap?” He felt drained!

 

Elrohir chuckled. “With you in my arms? Always. Rest, melethron, the Valar know you
deserve it.” Legolas’ passion had surprised him and then fueled his own. Seeing the
sapphire eyes grow hooded, he pressed a kiss onto Legolas’ brow and whispered, “I will
love you forever.”

 

~~~

 

Dûrel tried to let go of Erestor’s hand, but found he couldn’t. On the contrary, whenever
he tried to let go, his hold would intensify. They had reached the Hall of Fire, which
was empty at this moment of the day. The fire in the fireplace however blazed brightly
and Dûrel pulled Erestor toward a bench, where he sat down.

 

Erestor followed where his son led and settled down beside Dûrel. “Having me back in your
life is a shock to you,” said the alert observer.

 

“Aye, that is true.” Dûrel caressed Erestor’s hand. “I do not know what to say…”

 

“I understand,” said Erestor. “I have had time to mentally prepare myself for our
meeting, but you had not.”

 

“You knew…?” Dûrel sought out Erestor’s dark eyes, which were so much like his!

 

“Ereinion and I were told about the Valar’s plans and we had time to talk this through.”

 

“And Ereinion agreed you should return to Arda?” Dûrel desperately wanted to learn more
about his parents.

 

“He welcomed the opportunity for me to be with you again.”

 

“Even if that meant being separated?” Dûrel couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty.

 

“Ereinion will always be at my side as he is in my heart. Do not worry about that.”

 

Dûrel felt shy, asking his next question. “What do I call you? Mother? Father?”

 

“What are you most comfortable with?”

 

“I am not certain. I always called you Erestor.” Dûrel squirmed on the bench. “How do you
see yourself? As my mother?”

 

“I *did* give birth to you, Dûrel.” Erestor smiled. “Does that thought make you
uncomfortable?”

 

“It does.”

 

“Why?” Helping Dûrel accept himself was one of Erestor’s goals. He hoped he could guide
his son and made him understand that being different wasn’t wrong.

 

“I am supposed to be the High-King and…”

 

“You *are* the High-King,” said Erestor firmly. “Never doubt that!”

 

“But… I cannot be a pregnant High-King!”

 

“Dûrel, if you were not the High-King, would you think differently about having
children?”

 

“I probably would.” Dûrel gave Erestor a pleading look. “I do not want to disappoint our
people.”

 

“Oh, my son.” Erestor buried Dûrel in a parental hug and rested his brow against his
son’s. “Nothing you do will ever disappoint them.”

 

“You have to say that… because you are my… mother?” Dûrel peeked at Erestor to see how
the other Elf would react to being called that.

 

Erestor’s brilliant smile was blinding. “You surprise me. I thought you would find it
hard to accept that I had returned. Ereinion even had me preparing speeches to convince
you that I am real.”

 

“I only need to inhale your familiar scent to know it is you.”

 

“I also expected you to have more questions,” whispered Erestor, caressing his son’s face
and studying his eyes, which were almost identical to his.

 

“Oh, I have questions, plenty of them… I will ask them… Once the shock wears off,”
replied Dûrel.

 

“Aye, this is a shock.” Erestor nodded his head and established the embrace again. The
two Elves sat close for a long time, holding each other tight.

 

~~~

 

Elrond cleared his throat in order to announce his presence. Evening had come and Dûrel
hadn’t returned to their rooms, so the half-Elf had set out to find his husband. He found
them near the fire place in the Hall of Fire. “Dûrel, Erestor…” This felt awkward. He had
never imagined Erestor could return to them!

 

“Speak softly. He has fallen asleep.” Erestor’s dark, knowing eyes settled on Elrond’s
nervous form. “Why is he this drained? I do not like it!”

 

/Spoken like a protective mother,/ thought Elrond, almost expecting a lecture on how to
properly take care of Dûrel. But Erestor remained quiet and Elrond managed to formulate a
response. “He is near the end of his first fertility cycle. This last week was rather…
exhausting for him.” Elrond carefully seated himself opposite Erestor. He wanted nothing
more than to enfold Dûrel in his arms, but Erestor presented a formidable barrier.

 

“His first fertility cycle?”

 

Elrond didn’t expect to hear such softness and wonder in Erestor’s voice. “You surely
knew that he is like you in that aspect?”

 

“Aye, I did, but…” Erestor nodded once, as if confirming something privately. “It only
happens once we find a suitable mate – one who will give us children. Dûrel is ready to
start his own little family. I assume you want more children, Elrond?”

 

“I do, and Dûrel knows that. He is worried though about the impression he will leave on
our people should he become pregnant.”

 

“Aye, I already talked to him about that, but more discussion is necessary to help him
see the truth. I will continue to talk to him.”

 

“Thank you.” Still feeling nervous, Elrond fidgeted with the folds of his robes,
arranging them around his form.

 

Erestor deemed the time right to address Elrond’s unease. “Why do you feel nervous around
me?”

 

“I really do not know,” stuttered Elrond, taken by surprise.

 

“You can do better,” replied Erestor, giving the half-Elf a stern look.

 

“Maybe it is because I worry that you will think badly of me.” Elrond met Erestor’s
inquiring gaze. “You know that I was in love with Ereinion once?”

 

“Of course I do. Nothing escapes me and you wore your feelings on your sleeve, Elrond.”
Elrond had still been young and naive. “You did not possess the necessary tools to hide
your feelings effectively.”

 

“And now I have bonded with Ereinion’s son. I do hope that you do not think I went for
Dûrel because I could not have his father.” He cringed, seeing Erestor glare at him.

 

“Elrond Half-Elven, you must have too much time on your hands to come up with such
nonsense!”

 

Relieved, Elrond sighed. “I cannot explain my anxiety any other way.”

 

“You did not know who Dûrel was when he found you, did you?” Erestor waited for Elrond to
nod and only then continued. “And Dûrel was just as eager to bond with you as you were
with him, was he not?” Another nod followed. “I will tell you why you feel uneasy,
Elrond. You are sitting opposite someone who is supposed to be dead. Dûrel was shocked,
why wouldn’t you feel the same?”

 

“Do you think that is it?”

 

“And maybe you are suffering a bit from a guilty conscience,” added Erestor, wickedly.
“Didn’t you once confess to wanting to slay me because I had Ereinion’s love?”

“Foolish words fed by foolish pride,” whispered Elrond, lowering his eyes. “Much has
happened since then.”

 

“Elrond, I want you to hear me – hear what I am saying. Ereinion and I approve of Dûrel’s
choice. You are a good husband and you will be a good father to his children, should he
decide to take that step. I bear you no grudge, no hard feelings.”

His son stirred against him and Erestor quickly signaled Elrond that Dûrel was waking up
and that he considered this subject closed.

 

“I had such a nice dream,” whispered Dûrel, still half asleep. “Erestor was back.”

 

Erestor squeezed his son’s hands, which still rested in his. “I *am* back, my son.”

 

Dûrel’s eyes became alive again as he continued to wake up. “You are still here. I was
afraid you would vanish on me.”

 

“I am here to stay,” said Erestor, reassuring his son.

 

Dûrel stretched and grew aware of his husband’s presence. “Elrond…”

 

“The evening is drawing near and servants will shortly appear to ready the Hall for
dinner. I am here to escort Erestor to his rooms and to take you to our rooms with me,
meleth.” Dûrel extended his free hand and Elrond curled his fingers around it.

 

With Erestor at his right and Elrond at his left, Dûrel left the Hall of Fire. He had
never been happier before.

 

~~~

 

“Did you talk to our son?”

 

“I did.” Erestor had just taken a bath and was in the middle of untangling his long
tresses. He sat down in front of the mirror and combed his hair, smiling at the mirror’s
reflection which was growing distorted. Except for his form, another body was taking
shape and eventually, Ereinion’s image had appeared in the mirror. “He has become a fine
Elf – a capable warrior, a good mate and a worthy King.”

 

Ereinion smiled back at his husband. “I envy you for being able to be close to him – to
touch him, hold him, and talk to him.”

 

Erestor had finished combing his hair and stared longingly at his lover’s reflection in
the mirror. The Valar had struck a most odd deal with them. Ereinion had fiercely
objected to being parted from his husband and Námo had suggested this form of
communication. Although Ereinion’s fëa remained in the Halls of Waiting, a part of the
former High-King was allowed to communicate with Erestor using the mirror. “You must be
patient. Dûrel already endured one shock; I do not advise putting him through another
just yet.”

 

Ereinion chuckled. “My lovely, wise Chief Advisor…”

 

Erestor grew flustered. Even after all this time Ereinion could make him blush! “Once his
nerves calm down I will introduce him to you. You can talk to him using the mirror.”

 

“But I can never hold him.” Ereinion’s voice turned sad. “But if that is the way it is
supposed to be, I will accept it.” Contemplatively, he looked at Erestor and raised his
arm, as if reaching for his lover. “I miss you.”

 

“And I miss you.” Erestor placed his fingertips against the surface of the mirror, but
only encountered cold glass. “I miss touching you.”

 

“That was the sacrifice we made,” whispered Ereinion. “And I gladly pay that price if it
means reuniting you with our son.”

 

“I just wish you could be here as well, meleth. I watched Dûrel grow up, you never did.
The Valar should have sent you back instead of me.”

 

Ereinion shook his head. “Nay, he needs you, Erestor.” Only Erestor could help Dûrel
accept that he could have children. “You must be there when he goes into labor. You know
what to do.”

 

“Dûrel does not even know if he desires children.”

 

“Do not let him fool you, Erestor. You know him!” If Dûrel took after Erestor in only the
smallest way their son would want children!

 

“Oh, and Elrond acted all jittery. I think he was a bit uncomfortable seeing me.” His
fingertips moved over the glass, as if caressing his lover’s face. “He really did love
you, you know.”

 

Ereinion nodded once. “His nerves will settle down.” Ereinion placed his fingertips
against his side of the mirror. “I love you, Erestor.”

 

“I will watch over our son, meleth.” The image in the mirror began to fade and a sigh
escaped Erestor’s lips when only his reflection remained. “I wish you could be here with
me and hold him.” But the Valar had decided differently.

 

 
 

1 Ada  –- dad, daddy, papa (Sindarin, noun)

2 melethron –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun)

3  meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun) 

 

From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin dictionary

 

OC Names:

Dûrel - Dark Star

Saerif – Bitter Bark

Gaelveril – pale rose – mother of Thranduil