Summary: The sons of two Elven Lords are tired of their conflict and animosity, and come up with a plan to end this in a nice, non-violent way.
Disclaimer: Middle-Earth and all characters in it are the property of the Tolkien estate. I have used them without permission in these fantasies, but I meant no harm, and make no profit.
"Stop it, you two!" Legolas' voice cut through the tension between the Elves that were staring coldly at one another. "This is ridiculous. For how many years have you all but refused to talk to each other? For how many years have you nursed your differences?" He looked at the two Elf Lords and sighed.
It would not be an easy task to make these proud Elves settle their differences, but he did have some help at least. As if on cue, two almost identical Elves entered the tent. They were both tall of stature and lean of body, their hair dark and their eyes grey. They were the twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, of one of the Lords standing next to Legolas.
Legolas' face broke into a smile as the twins walked in carrying a box that they carefully put down on the ground. Elladan sat down on it while Elrohir walked up to Legolas and smiled and nodded at him.
"Everything has been performed according to the plan," he said, then he turned to Lord Elrond. "Your horse will be well looked after, and Erestor has been notified that you might be away for a while. He will take care of the daily business with his usual efficiency, Ada."
"I might be away for a while?" The dark-haired Lord raised an eyebrow at his son's words, his voice slightly colder than usual. He did not like this at all. He knew his sons, and they were definitely up to something. His gaze returned to the Elf standing in front of him. "Were you aware of this 'arrangement' before you entered this tent, Thranduil?"
"Of course not." The other Elf Lord's voice was equally cold and reflected some of his irritation. He turned his blue eyes on Legolas. "I had no idea what my son was planning when he suggested we take the horses out for a few days of riding." He looked back at Elrond. "If I had, I would not be standing here."
Elrond sighed at the haughty demeanour of the other Elf Lord. It had always grated on his nerves, even though he tried hard not to let it show. Why would he not let the past be, why could he not look forward into the future? But that had never been the way of the Mirkwood king, Elrond thought.
"This meeting is over. Legolas, get me my horse." Thranduil sounded calmer than he felt. Being this close to the upstart founder of Imladris was seriously eroding his patience.
"I am sorry, Ada, but I cannot do that. All the horses have been taken away, and if we want to travel from here we will have to walk." Legolas looked calmly at the stunned face of his father. It had been a very good idea to send the retinue away and have them take their horses with them. They would be back in two days. Legolas hoped that this would give them enough time.
Thranduil glared at Legolas and the twins. He almost could not believe his ears. He had been tricked into coming here, and now these... these Elflings had removed the means necessary to make a dignified retreat. He knew that they had him; he was practically held hostage. To a certain extent, he had to admire the strategy behind this move, and the fact that his son knew him well enough to play his own pride against him.
"What is it that you want from us?" Elrond asked. "You obviously have something in mind, since you have gone to all this trouble planning this little..." He made a gesture with his arm, indicating their surroundings. "...adventure." Elrond's sons looked at each other and grinned before Elladan spoke up.
"The three of us thought that you should meet on neutral ground and talk, without any possibility of storming off in a rage or something similar." He grinned at the looks of dismay his words drew from the two Elf Lords. "Not that either of you would ever do such a thing of course," he added, and looked at his two co-conspirators, both of whom nodded at him to continue. "We have decided that it is in the best interest of all Elves that the two of you settle your differences once and for all."
"You have decided this?" Thranduil almost sputtered, his face flushed with anger. He glared at his son and the impudent spawn of Elrond. "Who are you to make decisions regarding the welfare of our peoples?" He could understand that the twins would have the audacity to think that they knew better than their Elders, being their father's sons, but his own son? What had got into Legolas? He had never before shown any signs of disrespect towards his father...
"I think, Thranduil, that we have no real choice but to listen to what our sons have to say." Elrond sighed and sat down in one of the chairs to the side of the large tent. "I know that I, at least, would like to hear what has led up to this unusual situation." He looked sternly at the twins, who simply smiled at him in return.
"For many years now - centuries, in fact - the relations between Imladris and Mirkwood have been strained, and handled mostly by a large number of diplomats. There has been suspicion of espionage, and accusations of disrespect," Elrohir said.
"Never have there been any such words coming from my office," Elrond growled.
"Nor from mine!" Thranduil looked uncomfortable and turned to sit down in the chair opposite Elrond's, a small table between them. At least there was something that the two of them could agree upon, he thought, as he tried to make himself comfortable.
"No, of course not; they have always been carefully veiled behind a thin layer of diplomacy. But that does not change the meaning behind the words," Legolas said, and stepped over to where Elladan was sitting, motioning for him to rise.
"These differences, as you so offhandedly call them, cannot be so easily rectified. Mere words can never turn wrong to right." Thranduil's voice was cold and calm, now hiding the anger that was simmering inside. "And there is nothing that this Half-Elven Lord can offer that would satisfy my mind. No price is great enough to pay for what has been done!" He refused to look at any of the dark-haired Elves; instead he held the gaze of his son, willing him to understand that this was impossible.
Elrond's hands gripped the armrests of his chair so hard that his knuckles whitened. He was using all the self-control he could muster not to retort in anger at the haughty and accusing words of Thranduil. There he goes again, he thought, always bringing up the past and the imagined wrongs that stem from actions taken during a war long past. But he would not simply sit here and let the demented accusations of an Elf living his entire life in the shadows of the past continue. There would have to be an end to this!
"In no way does the past justify bad decisions in the present, my Lord Thranduil." Elrond looked at the Mirkwood king, his gaze grey and cold with tightly controlled anger. "Because of grudges you hold against me personally, you refuse to send archers to where they are needed. Your excellent warriors are often absent from most raids and battles against the Orcs and the powers of the Shadow." His voice was deep with emotion and he leaned forward in his chair. "Your stubbornness has cost many good Elf warriors their lives!"
"How dare you?" Thranduil leaped out of his seat with such force that the chair was overturned. His cheeks were flushed and his blue eyes had gone dark with rage. He took a step towards Elrond, who had risen to his feet as well. Thranduil's hands fisted in the smooth silk of Elrond's robes and he pulled him closer, staring into the Elf Lord's annoyingly calm face.
"Violence will not solve anything, but if it will make you feel better then you are free to hit me." Elrond made a show of retaining his calm even when being physically threatened. He knew he still had his warrior reflexes, and the muscle that came with warrior training, and the angry threats of Thranduil did nothing to scare him.
"Do not make me say this again! Stop it immediately." The two Lords were separated by Legolas, who had stepped between them and was now pushing them apart. "You two are worse than Elflings just starting their weapons training... picking fights to try their strength." He smiled as he righted his father's chair and pushed him down into it. "We did not mean for you two to come to blows. We had something quite different in mind, actually."
Legolas made a sign to Elladan, who opened the box that he had previously been sitting on. He took something wrapped in black silk from the box and carried the large bundle over to the table. He put it down gently and started unwrapping it. As the folds of silk were removed, white marble and black onyx was revealed. It was a large game board, with drawers on two sides. Elladan opened these and took out two sets of carven figures, one set of marble and the other of onyx, and he placed these on the chequered board. When the game was properly set up, he stepped back and looked at the two older Elves.
"Now, choose colour. As you know, white opens the game."
"You mean for us to play chess?" Elrond looked almost amused.
"Yes, we do. It is far safer than battling out on the field with armies, or a duel, yet the strategy and the battle of minds is real enough." Elladan smiled at his father, and glanced over at the other Elf Lord. Thranduil actually looked rather smug at the moment; the earlier signs of anger were almost gone. Elladan knew that the king was a very good strategist from all the stories he had heard from Legolas, so this would probably be an interesting game.
"This is ridiculous!" Thranduil could not see how a simple game of chess could settle anything, and he did not look forward to being in such close proximity to the Elf he despised so much for any length of time.
"It does not matter whether you find it ridiculous or no; neither of you will be returning home until this animosity has been settled, and you have come to some sort of understanding," Legolas replied, his face showing both determination and sincerity. "The terms of the game and the rewards for the victor are for the two of you to decide."
"Very well," Thranduil sighed. "I choose black." This way Lord Elrond would have to open the game, and he could devise his own strategy upon that move.
"The game is accepted," Elrond said, and sat back down again, turning the game board so that the white game pieces were on his side. He looked up at the three younger Elves standing off to the side. "You do not have to stay here and watch us. I promise you that we will try to settle this in a less than violent manner, seeing that you have given us no choice in the matter." They nodded and left the tent, carefully sealing the entrance behind them.
An uneasy silence settled over the tent, and the two Lords each took a few moments to study the interior. They knew that there were two other tents similar to this one on the other side of the small camp, probably set up for sleeping in. One of them had carried the colours of Imladris, and the other of Mirkwood. This tent had been unadorned on the outside, but was quite luxurious inside. There were the comfortable chairs and the table, of course; there was another table close to the entrance, on which were set various foods and fruits, and also wine. On the side opposite where they were now sitting, was a large bed.
"Hmm... It seems that they anticipate this game of chess will be both long and boring," Elrond said, and looked rather amusedly at the bed. "Well, we can take turns sleeping while the other is mulling over his strategy." He smiled crisply at the annoyed look on the other Elf's face. "So, what are the stakes?"
"The loser concedes the point," Thranduil replied.
"Point? And exactly what do you see as being the point of it all, Thranduil?" Elrond hoped that he would be able to live with the consequences of this game. But he had to admit to himself that getting an end to all the thrusts and parries of the ongoing diplomatic duel would be a blessing. It was both time-consuming and draining at times.
"You will admit that I am right, and you will make what amends you can." Thranduil's words were harsh and cold. He would have his revenge, even if it was a pitifully small one.
"Ah, so you are certain that I will lose, then?" Elrond quirked an eyebrow at the foolish confidence of Thranduil. He had no intention of losing this game. He was an excellent strategist and would give the King of Mirkwood a real fight.
"Hrm... if I lose, then, I will admit that I have been in the wrong, and will bury this dispute since that seems to be the wish of my son," Thranduil grumbled, and glared slightly at his opponent.
"Accepted." Elrond got up and walked over to the table on the other side of the tent. "Wine?"
Morning had turned to early afternoon, and most of that time had been spent in silence, the two Elf Lords battling it out on the chessboard.
"Why do you hold me responsible for your father's death?" Elrond suddenly asked as his opponent moved a game piece and captured one of his own. Thranduil looked up at him with obvious surprise.
"You do not know?" How could one of the Elves in command of the forces during the Last Alliance have forgotten what had happened? Was he really so ignorant as to the consequences of his decisions and his actions? In that case, Elrond was even more incompetent than Thranduil thought. Why Gil-galad had chosen the Half-Elf as his second-in-command was still a mystery to him.
"You promise my father reinforcements and then you do not send them; instead you take the troops elsewhere to revel in the glory of a skirmish won!" Thranduil's eyes glared daggers at the other Lord. "And now you have the nerve to ask why?"
Elrond sighed. So that is what the Mirkwood king had thought all these centuries since the event... No wonder relations had been strained between the two Realms. But, by the Valar, why had not Thranduil even tried to find out what had happened, but instead solely relied on his own conclusions?
"Thranduil, please." Elrond held up his hand to still the other Lord. "That is not how it happened."
"Oh, so now you will serve me more of your lies and half-truths?" Thranduil's voice carried the anger that had been festering in his spirit for many years. "I have heard your petty excuses before, and I do not believe a word of them. The actions of a person carry more weight than his words."
"Indeed. So stop being so stubborn and show that you can put your pride aside for a little while instead of refusing to listen to anything that does not support that which you hold to be true!" Elrond was now starting to lose his patience with the Mirkwood ruler. Their words had turned into a game of strategy of their own: attacks and counter-attacks... He sat back in the chair and regarded the conflicting emotions chase across Thranduil's face. He looked truly haunted, caught in the shadowy tendrils of the past.
"Speak, then." Thranduil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with the thumb and fingers of his right hand. He then ran his hand over his hair in a tired gesture to smooth it back. The ghost of his father had haunted him ever since that dreadful day. It had seemed that the spirit of Oropher had not been able to leave for the Halls of Mandos, but had lingered on as one of the disembodied, a ghost. Many nights had been filled with the wailings and complaints of his father. Oropher had always held Elrond responsible for his death, and Thranduil had never had any reason to doubt the accuracy of his father's accusations.
"You are right, I did promise Oropher reinforcements, and I did not reach him in time." Elrond sighed heavily. "As we were trying to reach him and his warriors, of which you were a part, I know, we marched straight into an ambush and were forced to deal with that." The Elf Lord shuddered at the memory of the death cries of Men, Orcs and Elves around him...
Thranduil looked searchingly at Elrond. He saw the genuine look of horror on the Elf Lord's face as he was temporarily lost in the memories. This was no ruse. Thranduil might be stubborn, but he could recognize honesty when he took the time to look for it and had put aside his anger for a while. Elrond was not lying; he obviously thought that this was the truth.
"I lost many good Elves in that skirmish, as you call it, several of whom had served me for many years already; some were people I called friends." Elrond's voice was filled with pain, and he looked at Thranduil with eyes that were brimming with tears. "When we finally reached the location of your army, it was already too late. We had been detained for too long, and your father was already dead..."
"You could have sent a part of your force ahead," Thranduil said. "Any help would have been welcome, and it could have saved..."
"To what end would I have sent them?" Elrond interrupted the Mirkwood King. "We were hard pressed as it was. Would you have had me divide the strength of my force so that both parts of it could be easily obliterated? Tell me how that would have helped your father!" The Lord of Imladris leaned forward in his chair.
"I do not know, Elrond. All I know is that my father has been accusing you of tardiness and incompetence ever since. I have had no reason to doubt his words; he is my father after all." The Elf Lord looked tired, his eyes closed briefly and his brow was furrowed. "Not a night has passed when I have not heard his voice haunting my sleep."
Elrond slowly realized the reasons for Thranduil's short temper, his unreasonable animosity towards himself and any Elf from Imladris, and his unwillingness to settle the matter. All of it fuelled by the words of Oropher, a dead but vengeful Oropher, unable or unwilling to leave this world behind.
"I am sorry to hear that your father did not move on to the Halls of Mandos, but chose to stay as one of the disembodied." Elrond felt only sympathy for the other Elf. "I did not know this."
"No, I have not told anyone. Not even my family, as I seem to be the one chosen to listen to his complaints." Thranduil sighed. Maybe he had been wrong to hold this grudge for so long? He had let his mind and his reasoning be poisoned by the endless accusations of the ghostly apparition of his father. Elrond had been sincere, and Thranduil found that he believed the words of the Lord of Imladris. The death of Oropher had been tragic, but there was nothing that could have prevented it. Such were the risks of war, and no one but the Dark Lord was to be blamed.
Elrond nodded and sat back, contemplating what he had just heard. The two Elves sat in silence for a long while before Elrond moved one of his game pieces, capturing one of Thranduil's.
The game went on, for a while in silence, but as they had more wine, they started to talk about other things. Strategies were tried out, attacks initiated and thwarted by clever defences, and a few pieces were moved off the board.
It could have been due to the confidence that they both had in their own abilities as strategists, or it might have been the amount of wine that had been consumed, but either way, a suggestion was made at one point. For every game piece captured the owner of it also lost an item of clothing.
The slightly drunken Thranduil studied the Elf sitting across the table as he captured another of Elrond's game pieces, thus forcing the Elf Lord to take off the last garment covering his upper body. Thranduil himself had a fair heap of clothing on the ground next to his chair.
As Elrond slipped out of his undertunic, Thranduil could not help but admire the ripple of muscle on his abdomen and his strong and well-muscled arms and chest. He suddenly realized that they were no longer playing for anything particular. He did not feel the need anymore for Lord Elrond to admit that he, the king of Mirkwood, was right in the matter concerning his father. So, what were the stakes of the game now?
"My Lord Thranduil?" Elrond waved a game piece in front of the blond Elf's face. "It is your... move." Thranduil started slightly at the words. He had not noticed Elrond's capture of his piece. He got up and removed his own tunic, swaying slightly on his feet. Now they were both naked to the waist, wearing only their leggings.
Thranduil sat down again and drained his goblet. It was a very good wine, he thought, as the warmth and tingle of the alcohol spread pleasantly through his system. From Elrond's private wine cellar, no doubt. He studied the chessboard carefully, weighing the possibilities and the risks that he could see against each other. He could win this game, he was quite certain of that. He grinned at Elrond as he thought of something that would make this game worth winning.
"I have a suggestion," Thranduil said, and smirked at the other Elf. "What say you we make this game a little more interesting?"
"It is not exciting enough for you, then? What with us stripping and all?" Elrond gave him a puzzled look.
"It seems to me that the original stake of the game is forfeit, as I no longer require you to admit to your wrongful actions... and I think you have a similar feeling?" Thranduil said as he let his gaze slowly wander over the naked chest and rounded shoulders in front of him.
"This is true." Elrond was amused by the obvious look of interest on Thranduil's face. They were both quite drunk by now, and he could only guess that the wine had had some unforeseen effects on Thranduil's mind and body. He looked at the blond Elf. He did have a very nicely built body, no doubt about that, and his face was truly beautiful, his blue eyes sparkling. "So, what is your suggestion, Thranduil?"
"The victor gets the spoils of war!" Thranduil leered, and moved his rook.
Elrond laughed. He would not have thought that his earlier adversary could change his mind about him so completely, just in the course of a day.
"You mean to bed me?" Elrond grinned at Thranduil.
"Yes, as I am sure that I will win the game."
"Hmm... But if, for the sake of argument, I win the game..." Elrond quirked an eyebrow at the proud Mirkwood King and mirrored the Elf's earlier smirk. "It is you who will be bedded."
Elrond grinned as he initiated what he thought would be the final attack on Thranduil's game pieces. He would have the king in a position where he could not move away, where he was defeated. He would have the King.
Thranduil grumbled as he looked at the game board in disbelief. This could not be! He had been so certain that he would win, and now he found that he had but two possible moves, both of which led to defeat. He sat for a long while, sipping his wine, before he reached out a hand and tipped over his king.
Elrond sat quietly studying the Mirkwood Elf while he battled the turmoil in his mind. Thranduil was very handsome, he thought, feeling a stirring of desire as his gaze swept over that finely-sculptured upper body. When Thranduil admitted defeat he merely nodded, his eyes locking with those of the other Elf when he finally did look up.
Elrond put his goblet down on the table and rose from his chair. There had been a lot of wine consumed during the game, but he still felt strangely clearheaded. He took the few steps over to where Thranduil was sitting, circled around him, and stopped when he was standing behind the Elf. He let his hand brush against the long blond hair; it was soft as silk to his touch.
Thranduil was sitting very still, his hand still on the game board, and he was holding his breath. This was not what he had planned, but he considered himself to be an Elf of honour, so he would give Elrond all that he demanded. But that did not mean that he had to enjoy it, he decided.
Thranduil let his breath out in a sigh when he felt the soft touch of fingers on his skin. His long hair was moved to one side, and then soft lips touched the curve of his neck and shoulder, followed by an enticing lick up towards his ear. Thranduil could not help but tremble and moan softly as Elrond's tongue left a wet trail over the sensitive tip of his ear.
Elrond smiled slightly at Thranduil's reluctant response. He moved his hands over the King's smooth shoulders and well-muscled chest, finding that Thranduil's nipples had already hardened. He pinched them lightly and smiled again as Thranduil drew a sharp breath.
He leaned close to Thranduil's ear. "Come, let us move this over to somewhere a little more comfortable," he whispered, and licked once more at the pointed ear. Elrond placed his hand on Thranduil's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
As Thranduil looked up at him, Elrond smiled softly. He intended to make full use of his prize, and hoped that the Mirkwood Lord would enjoy it as much as he would. Elrond walked the few steps over to the bed, and turned around, clearly waiting for Thranduil to come to him.
Thranduil got to his feet and sighed. Suddenly it felt like he had had too little to drink. He was not sure that he could go through with this, but no choice was open to him. He had made the bet, fully intending to posses the body of the Imladris Lord had he won. He could not back out of the arrangement now, simply because he was not happy with the outcome. That had been part of the thrill...
Swaying slightly, Thranduil crossed the tent and joined Elrond by the bed. "What now?" he said, trying to sound indifferent.
"Now," Elrond said, as he unlaced Thranduil's leggings. "We remove the last of our clothes..." He let his fingers work on the lacings slowly, taking his time, and several times he brushed them over the bulge that was growing there.
Thranduil swallowed and tried to control his emotions; he was not going to enjoy this - he had promised himself that. But he could feel his resolve melt into nothingness as his hard length was freed from its confines and long, smooth fingers closed around it.
This feeling was just too delicious, too much to withstand, Thranduil thought, as he moved his hips to get closer to that hand, to make it move over his flesh. But Elrond anticipated that and followed his movements, not giving him any friction at all. Just holding his hand where it was, tight enough to have control, but not tight enough to give pleasure.
Thranduil tried hard not to move again and almost succeeded, when Elrond moved his thumb over the head of his erection. Only once, and only brushing over it lightly, and then he held still again. Thranduil could no longer stand this torture. He thrust his hips into Elrond's hand, wanting the friction, needing... something.
"Please..." Thranduil's voice was hoarse with lust and need. "Elrond, by the Valar, do something!" He was getting frustrated, he wanted Elrond to claim his prize... the spoils of war... his body. His promises to not enjoy this were forgotten, now he was determined to make Elrond take him.
Elrond raised an eyebrow and gave Thranduil an amused look, as the Mirkwood King raised his gaze and looked into his eyes again. He could see the desperate need in the blue eyes; it was like seeing a stormy sky reflected in the surface of a deep lake, the blue colour of the waters being darkened by that which they mirrored.
He pushed Thranduil backwards. The blond Elf was taken by surprise and landed sprawling on the bed, his long hair fanned out around his head. Elrond grinned as he looked at the strong body displayed for him thus. He pulled down Thranduil's leggings, grateful that Thranduil lifted his hips slightly to make the task easier.
Elrond's own remaining clothes landed on top of Thranduil's. It would be interesting in the morning to sort through these heaps of clothing, he thought. It would not do to walk out of the tent wearing each other's leggings. Elrond chuckled.
"What is it that is so amusing?" Thranduil asked.
Elrond joined the other Elf on the bed, stretching out beside him. He took Thranduil's chin in his hand and leaned closer. "I will tell you in the morning," he said before he kissed him.
Thranduil parted his lips for Elrond, needing to taste him, and to be tasted. As the Imladris Lord licked at his lips and then pushed his tongue inside his mouth, Thranduil moaned. He was explored, his mouth mapped out so slowly and sensually that he was almost gasping with need once the kiss was broken and Elrond moved on down to kiss his neck and throat.
Elrond enjoyed making his former antagonist moan and shiver, and was determined to have him pant and writhe as well. He licked slowly around an already hard nipple, teasing Thranduil mercilessly before taking it between his lips and sucking at it. He almost smiled at the sounds that came from Thranduil's throat. Elrond used his tongue to tease the small nub even harder and then he worried it slightly with his teeth. He licked a wet path over to the other side of Thranduil's chest and gave the other nipple the same treatment.
As he moved down over Thranduil's stomach, he looked up at his face briefly, seeing the passion and the need on his features. The Mirkwood king lifted his head slightly and looked down at him, their gazes locking for a moment. The usually clear blue eyes were dark and sparkling with a strong desire, and Elrond felt a stab of regret. Why had they let so many years be wasted with feelings of animosity, suspicion and anger?
Elrond broke eye contact and descended upon his lover's pale skin again, kissing and licking around his navel. He could feel the obvious proof of Thranduil's passion very close to his face now, and judging by the moans, Thranduil wanted nothing more than for him to continue on his path down.
With his fingers curled around the base of it, Elrond slowly took Thranduil's straining member into his mouth, licking and sucking. He enjoyed the taste of the Elf, and he moaned softly as his mouth was filled with his hard flesh. He began to move over it, letting it slide between his lips in a leisurely rhythm, both giving and taking pleasure from his actions.
Thranduil gasped as he felt Elrond's mouth on his erection. There was trust displayed in this act, on both sides. He gave Elrond such power over him, but right now he did not care, he could not, because this was what he wanted. Had the deep anger and hatred been born due to the fact that he desired the Imladris Lord, their conflict being the perfect way not to have to face these emotions, not to be close to the object of his desire?
Soon Thranduil felt a finger rubbing gently over his entrance, and he parted his legs a little more as an invitation to his lover. The oil-slick finger was slowly pushed inside him and he arched his back slightly and moaned loudly. It had been a while since he had had a male lover; indeed it had been a long time since he had had any lover at all, being too caught up in the ruling of his realm. He let himself enjoy the sensation of being prepared, as Elrond took his time with him, slowly adding another finger and finally a third.
Thranduil thought it impossible to be able contain this heat, this raging fire inside him, the burning passion. He wanted Elrond to discontinue with his teasing, wanted him to take him there and then, to use his body as he gave him pleasure in return. He reached down and tangled his fingers in the silky tresses of Elrond's hair, trying to pull him up, needing him to understand that he could not wait any longer.
Elrond let the hard shaft slip out of his mouth and moved up again to give Thranduil a passionate kiss. The blue eyes that met his gaze were glazed over with need and desire, and Elrond did not hesitate as he could clearly read the message they were trying to convey. He withdrew his fingers from his lover's body and instead positioned the head of his erection against his entrance. Slowly he pushed inside the hot tightness, moaning softly and marvelling at the sensation. It never ceased to amaze Elrond how delicious this could be.
As Elrond began to move inside Thranduil's body, the blond Elf arched his back and began to meet his languid thrusts. He grabbed at Elrond's arms and closed his eyes, wanting only to experience this, without any distractions. As Elrond was a skilled and attentive lover, Thranduil was soon reduced to incoherent moans and sighs of pleasure, the desire within him building to a blazing furnace.
Elrond delighted in seeing the beautiful features of the Mirkwood King lost in rapture - a rapture and ecstasy that he was causing. Never before had Thranduil looked as alluring, as appealing, and the light in him so strong, as in the moment that orgasm overtook him. His blond head moved from side to side and his body writhed in pleasure. Then Thranduil's eyes flew open, his gaze meeting that of Elrond, as he spent his hot release between their bodies with a soft cry of passion.
Thrusting deeply inside his lover a few more times, Elrond finally let his own climax claim him, and leaning down, he kissed Thranduil's delectable lips with great fervour and quickened breath. He moaned loudly into the kiss as the icy spikes of pleasure stung his flesh and his spirit, and he slowly relaxed on top of Thranduil, enjoying being cradled in his arms.
There was no need for words then, and the two Elven Lords were content just lying closely entwined on the wide bed. After a while an arm was disentangled to reach for the soft blanket, and soon they were both asleep - sated, contented. The battles were behind them, and a truce had been initiated.
Legolas had woken up early; the morning air was still cool against his face as he stepped out from his tent. He was relieved at the fact that there had been no angry voices raised during the night, nor any other sounds of strife or conflict from the tent where they had left their fathers the previous day.
He walked silently up to the tent in question, pausing outside for a moment to listen for any signs of movement inside, but could hear none. He sneaked inside as quietly as he could and saw the shapes of two bodies under the blanket on the bed. As he tiptoed closer, he was joined by Elrohir and Elladan, who had seen him enter the tent and followed him, just as curious as to the result of their scheming as he was.
Three pairs of eyes widened as they looked down on what could only be lovers, so tightly entwined lay Elrond and Thranduil, a blond head resting on a strong shoulder, and arms wrapped protectively, almost possessively, around each other. Legolas smiled at the twins and whispered, "I think that perhaps they will not think too badly of us for forcing them to put their differences aside for a day or two."
Return to Archive