italics indicate thoughts
(elvish translations in parentheses)
This chapter un-Beta'd
Pelol [Fading]
Legolas had dreamed again that night, but his visions held none of the comfort of communion with Tawar or his lost comrades.
He dreamed of being loved and of being made love to, and delighted in the caresses and attentions of his lover's hands and lips. As he reveled in the abandonment of deeply returned passion, the face of his beloved became clear and he gazed with joy into the eyes of Malthen as his corpsman penetrated his body, coaxing him into slow and mounting ecstasy. At the moment of his release, Legolas cried out his lover's name, yet even as his seed surged from him in glorious waves of rapture the face above him twisted into that of Ailinyéro, and his pleasure dissolved into horrendous pain. Malthen's words of endearing love were transmuted into the ugly curses of his tormenter: 'No one. No one wants you now. Not even the Noldor elves of Imladris would dirty themselves inside you!'
He awoke with a horrified shout and stared in bewildered terror at Fearfaron. The carpenter came to him at once, but Legolas shied away and covered his face with his hands, lost in a maelstrom of shame, fear, rage, and self-disgust. His embarrassment was acute as he recognized the scent of his own ejaculate and realized the dream had been grossly graphic for his companion as well. He looked down at his clothing, soiled with semen and sweat and felt the familiar waves of nausea accost his gut.
Legolas fought down the desire to be ill and struggled to his feet on the branch. He felt filthy and tainted and desperately wanted to throw off the sticky garments. Fearfaron was talking to him, trying to calm and reassure him, but he could not focus on the words. He drew a shaky breath and moved out into the trees, making for water, leaving behind weapons, boots, and pack. The carpenter grabbed these things and his own pack as well and followed Legolas quickly.
He caught up with him at last at the Forest River where they had been working the previous day. They had dragged the salvaged wood to the shallows at the river's edge, tying down the great trunks of the fallen trees to form a barge that would be carried into the King's stronghold by the current when the anchoring lines to shore were released.
Legolas was standing knee deep in the water, naked, scrubbing determinedly at his skin, his leather leggings and tunic discarded on the bank. He was rubbing so hard that some of the deeper lashes were pulling open and bleeding, and Fearfaron was alarmed to see that Legolas seemed to be unconsciously encouraging this. He was breathing in a hitched sort of dry sobbing, for no tears fell. He ignored the carpenter at first and then tried to move away from him when he plunged into the cold water to get him out. But Fearfaron was persistent and Legolas was emotionally drained, and at last he listlessly allowed himself to be led ashore and wrapped in the carpenter's cloak.
Legolas sat huddled dejectedly on the bank with all of his body hidden under the soft cloak save his head. He refused to look at his soiled clothes, much less touch them, and would not allow Fearfaron to remove the cloak to treat the bleeding lashes.
Fearfaron reached over and gently laid his hand on Legolas shoulder and continued to speak in comforting and reassuring tones, and gradually the archer calmed down somewhat. The carpenter gave him fresh leggings and Legolas drew them on though they were too large, belonging to Fearfaron who was much the taller of the two.
With his body partially covered, he allowed his benefactor to remove the cloak and clean up the wounds, applying more of the soothing salve he had used previously. That done, Legolas sat quietly staring out into the river while his eyes saw nothing of the scenery and Fearfaron stayed at his side. Thus they remained until the distant sound of many horses weighed down with provisions was carried to them on the breeze, and Legolas recognized the gaited footfalls of his mother's palfrey. He stood as the caravan came into view and watched as Ningloriel guided her mount out of the group and lightly leapt down, approaching him.
Fearfaron observed her expression of tense consternation as she took in her son's appearance. He also noted that she made no move to touch him, nor did Legolas seem to expect it. Wordlessly they turned in unison and moved side by side away from the others, out of earshot, and spoke together.
The queen's face was animated and her movements agitated as she punctuated her words with her hands and arms. Legolas hunched forward and rubbed one hand over his forehead while the other moved to wrap around his middle. He began shaking his head, and his responses seemed to aggravate his mother more. She paced around a few times and continued her arguments; her tone alternating between pleading and demanding. That much was conveyed to Fearfaron's ears even if the exact words could not be understood.
Legolas' posture radiated grief and remorse as he tried to placate his mother, yet remained firm in his refusal of whatever she had said to him. She said something that made him visibly wince and he ran a hand through his hair, turning his head away from her as he did. Her voice became more shrill and accusatory in tone and her son seemed to close in on himself as he vainly pleaded with her.
At last they fell silent and a moment passed, and then Legolas spoke to her briefly, a questioning and hesitant cast to his stance. The response caused everyone to jump, startled by the resounding slap as Ningloriel's palm connected with her son's cheek. His hand flew to cover the burning red mark and he stared at her with stricken eyes and begged her forgiveness, following after her as she strode back towards her entourage. When she gained her horse he stopped, staring in open-mouthed shock at Maltahondo as he provided the queen a leg up onto her mount.
The corpsman met his eyes for a second, and then Legolas flushed a dark scarlet and turned, racing into the trees. With a silent curse Fearfaron gathered up their things, remarking that for the second time Legolas had fled without his weapons. The carpenter could hear the large party departing, following the track along the river bank that would eventually cut through the woods to the Forest Road, as he followed Legolas' figure rapidly retreating into the forest.
High in the boughs of a strong oak with welcoming limbs Fearfaron regretted for at least the tenth time venturing alone into the woods with Legolas. Together they had constructed a temporary talan of rope and branch in this tree, an openwork webbing more like a hammock than a flet. Here they rested after laboring to salvage the felled hardwoods on the forest floor below.
They had needed to recuperate often; or rather Legolas had needed to. His health was not rebounding as quickly as someone of his age and vigor normally would. Fearfaron noted that the deepest lashes frequently pulled open as Legolas worked through the day, and he refused to stop working. At one point, Fearfaron had simply left, hoping that Legolas would cease his efforts and follow, but after an hour with no sign of him the carpenter returned to find him struggling to remove some limbs with a handsaw.
Fearfaron suspected grief was the culprit. The encounter with his mother, their first contact in twelve years and possibly their last for centuries or more, had left Legolas withdrawn and silent.
That had been ten days ago, not a pleasant time for either of them. Legolas had fled through the trees until his energy was spent, collapsing from physical and emotional exhaustion. Fearfaron came upon him crumbled up in the crook of a tree trunk near the high canopy, dry-eyed but shivering. And lost. His eyes had held the bewilderment, fear, and despondency of an elfling abandoned alone in the forest, for so he was at that moment.
He would not speak and Fearfaron was certain Legolas did not recognize him at first. He was apparently too worn out to make any protest when the carpenter wrapped him back up in the soft cloak and his arms in an effort to stop the shaking. He had followed Fearfaron willingly and urgently, as though suspicious that this contact would disappear from him also, back to their transitory talan. He frequently set his hand against the dark red palm-print left by Ningloriel as a look of helpless distress washed over his features. No words passed between them the rest of the day and finally Legolas had lapsed into an uneasy slumber a couple of hours after annûn. The nightmares had become a nightly ordeal since then.
Legolas was now thrashing against Fearfaron fiercely as the carpenter tried to restrain him. Given the desperation with which he fought the talan-builder's hold, he must be reliving the assault by Ailinyéro. Fearfaron could not get him to wake, the more he struggled the more Legolas seemed to become lost in the phantasm. Fearfaron feared that soon he would either have to release Legolas and watch him fall to the forest floor or hold on and cascade down with him. He did not wish to end up broken at the base of these trees, or to relinquish Legolas to such a fate.
The archer was making a wide range of cries and wails of despair and dread interspersed with incoherent shouts of rage. Twice he sank his teeth deeply into the soft forearms of his kindly captor and almost succeeded in kicking him away. Fearfaron was rapidly growing as desperate as was the archer.
At last he managed to wrap his legs around Legolas' knees to still his jerking limbs and encircled his waist with one arm, firmly grasping one wrist while pressing the other tightly against his body. They were now intertwined like lovers, the archer held securely against his chest with his forehead resting in the crook of the talan-builder's neck and shoulder, and Fearfaron felt Legolas tense and go still as his breathing deepened.
He sighed ardently and twisted against the carpenter, but it was not a movement seeking freedom. Legolas sought to pull himself closer and shifted his hips, thrusting against Fearfaron's groin with his own hard and needy member. The carpenter was stunned at first then realized the sudden altering in the elf's unconscious state was logical; Legolas felt safe with him and he was already experiencing a sexual dream. It wouldnot do, however, for this to continue. Valar only knew what level of humiliation Legolas would descend to if he woke in the aftermath of his passionate hallucination in Fearfaron's arms.
The carpenter gently untangled himself, hoping Legolas would not become alert until he was at least half an arm's length away. He moved a few branches over, yet near enough to keep an eye on the younger elf in case the unpleasant terrors returned. Fearfaron thought it would be good for Legolas to have a pleasingly sensual dream, experiencing a gratifying release, but feared the same end as on the previous nights, when the illusion of passion had transformed into ugliness and self-loathing without warning. He was at a loss as to how to prevent this short of waking Legolas, and was uncertain he would be successful given the difficulty he had had doing so thus far.
"Legolas!" he called softly.
Legolas grumbled under his breath in disappointed tones as the warmth and closeness retreated, and reached out for his lover in vain. "Malthen," he whispered and turned onto his back, flinching a little as the lashes stung in response to the friction. The carpenter sat back and watched grimly as Legolas' hands went fluttering over his body seeking to duplicate in reality the sensations his inner visions presented to him.
"Legolas! Awake!" he called again louder.
Legolas lay in the comforting darkness and allowed his body to come alive with the slow tortuous joy of his own caressing fingers, imagining the digits belonged to his lover, tracing lightly across his chest and neck. If only the slightly callused pads would be replaced with the sweetly hot and questing lips he longed for.
He could feel the strength and warmth of that expressive tongue sliding against his teeth, delicately glancing across his lower lip, pulling it carefully aside to taste the space between it and the row of strong incisors. His own tongue darted out and briefly danced across the lip's fullness and he whined plaintively, pleadingly, and breathed out another stifled groan.
His hands found their way down to his abdomen and kneaded the flat expanse of lean muscle there, tripping over the small fold of skin marking the site of the first wound he had ever received: the slicing of the umbilical at his birth. His hands delayed their travels under the soft woven fabric of his borrowed leggings, massaging his hardening penis from without as though to prolong the transient response of delight he ached to provoke with the self-wrought stimulation.
"Legolas! Alert! Legolas wake up now!" Fearfaron's urgent and vociferous call elicited the desired response; the archer abruptly sat up and looked about to discover the emergency. Fearfaron breathed a sigh of relief and stored the new, and obvious, insight away: Legolas was trained as a warrior, a cry of alarm would always rouse him.
Legolas shifted uncomfortably, hitching at the borrowed leggings and trying to see if Fearfaron noticed his aroused state without actually looking him in the eye.
The carpenter's forehead creased in irritated disapproval. He had no understanding of why this was so excruciatingly embarrassing to Legolas; his own son had been able to accept such reactions of the body as natural. Fearfaron had never allowed Annaldir to be ashamed of his sexuality and had always encouraged him to speak if he had concerns or ask if he was curious. There was nothing Annaldír was unable to discuss with his father, even after he was fully-grown and had a lifemate. It did not reflect well on Legolas' upbringing that he was so repressed about his own needs. Discretion among elves was of course paramount, but denial and guilt were not normal.
"It is not right," he said aloud and Legolas' head dropped and turned away. "You were only dreaming, Legolas, and it has probably been some time since you have had any kind of caring and satisfactory sexual contact. Your responses are to be expected. What is it that upsets you so when this occurs?"
Legolas could not stop the burning sensation that heralded the rapid infusion of blood to his face. How could he answer such questions? He wanted to believe his friend's speech was kind, yet he had started by saying his actions were not right. He remembered Ailinyéro's words; the whole company knew he desired males. Did this mean Fearfaron, through Annaldír, also knew this? Was he saying this was wrong? Was he reprimanding him about the dreams, as his mother had? She complained of his noise and lack of self-control, had insisted he move to new rooms far from her own chambers. He did not know how to stop them and had only been free of them when he had had a lover. Legolas was confused to say the least.
"Legolas, I fear you are suffering from grief," Fearfaron decided to change the subject as he watched Legolas withdraw further. "We must return to the city; I want you to see the healer about these wounds that do not heal. You do not speak unless it is imperative to do so; you eat only if I force you, and your sleep, if it can so be called, is disturbed by night terrors. This cannot be allowed to continue or you will die. Also, I want to make the petition to the Council and clear at least one of the burdens from you. Perhaps Gandalf is still there; would you like to speak with him?" Legolas sighed in response and shook his head.
"Perhaps that would be best, " he said quietly. Fearfaron looked at him carefully, aware now that often Legolas heard something entirely different than he had intended to say, and considered what he might be assenting to. No way to know for certain: best to return to the city, best to see the healer, best to speak to Gandalf, best to die? All were fair guesses.
"What? What would be best, Legolas?" he finally asked, but the archer would not reply. "Then, we return tomorrow at minuial," he finally said. Legolas gave a brief nod to this and shifted to try to get more comfortable. Fearfaron moved over closer so that he could touch him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder; rubbing just the slightest bit, knowing Legolas needed this essential contact. It seemed to Fearfaron, after observing the younger elf's own mother's failure to touch him that most of the physical contact Legolas had received from others had been non-existent, negative, or hurtful. Legolas clearly craved a gentle touch yet did not himself know how to initiate even this simplest of caring gestures: a hand upon the shoulder.
"When Annaldír's mother left for Valinor, he was devastated. He thought it was his fault because he had just joined the guard, and his mother had been opposed to the idea. He was not the reason, but she did not want him to know why she had to go. I was made to promise not to tell this secret to him," Fearfaron began talking; he could not bear the silence and hoped he could somehow get Legolas to open up to him about all that had occurred. Legolas turned his head towards him, interested in spite of himself, or perhaps because he was afraid to sleep and thus to dream.
"I broke this promise, but I am sure she understands why I had to do so. Annaldír was dying of grief and guilt, and nothing I said was of any use. He was taking terrible risks on his patrols and would not last long in any case," Fearfaron fell quiet as he remembered, and Legolas waited for the rest of this story. When none came, he finally spoke.
"Why did Annaldír think it was his fault?" he asked. Fearfaron smiled a tempered smile of bittersweet remembrance.
"They had argued constantly about Annaldír's warrior's commission. Cúroniel [Daughter of the Crescent Moon] once asked, in her anger and fear, how Annaldír would feel if she were to be the one leaving in the morning perhaps never to return. When she did leave several years later, he interpreted this as his punishment for refusing to resign his commission."
"It is my fault that Naneth left," Legolas said ruefully. "It is all because of that day at Erebor. My failure now has taken another away, from me and from all others that held her dear. It is because Meril and Lindalcon have become part of the household."
"I do not believe that is true. You should think more critically about this. If you had not made that error, would there be anything else that would cause your mother to leave here? It should not be too difficult to come up with the truth; you of all should know this," Fearfaron said. Legolas glanced at him searchingly; another painful topic to guess at how much Fearfaron knew. Fearfaron nodded reading his expression perfectly.
"Everyone in the city knows about the fights. Do you not think she might have become weary of it all? Would she have asked you to come with her if she held you responsible for these events?" These words touched exactly upon Legolas' thoughts and he shifted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Fearfaron.
"What do the elves think about it? Does everyone know what he said to her, about me?" he finally asked in a barely breathed voice.
Fearfaron took his time answering, worried about the reaction Legolas would have to the local gossip. He decided the truth was the best; he had built a small foundation of trust with Legolas and did not want to have it torn down by trying to spare him what he most likely already suspected.
"There are two prominent views on the situation, opposing one another of course. Some believe, as does Thranduil, that you are not his son at all. They cite that you look nothing like him, favoring your mother, and anyone could be your father.
"They also say that Ningloriel spent her youth in Lorien and met Elrond there. He is always in and out of the Golden Wood as his wife is daughter to the Lord and Lady. It is no secret that Ningloriel's and Thranduil's bonding was by arrangement and neither has any love for the other. Gossips also state that your Conception Day is very close to a time when she had spent nearly an entire year in Lorien. These arguments you yourself must have heard from the King," he said and Legolas nodded.
"The other elves side with Ningloriel, saying she has family in Lorien and that is the reason she has visited there so much over the years. That, and Thranduil's unreasonable jealousy. They note that she has always been honorable and would be unlikely to break her marriage bond even for love. There is also the fact that she has been friends with Elrond's lifemate, Celebrian, since her childhood, and would not seek to do anything to hurt her friend.
"Also, Maltahondo has been at her side the entire time as her personal guard and has never mentioned any but the most formal of contacts with Elrond. The other facts are merely coincidences that Thranduil uses to build a false case against her." Fearfaron finished cautiously. "What did she say to you on the subject herself?" he asked, curiosity prompting his words before considering their possible impact.
Legolas slumped back down onto the netted talon and turned himself away from Fearfaron, curling up and wrapping his arms about his body protectively.
"She would not answer me in words," his muffled answer came as his left-hand stole up to touch the side of his face lightly.
Fearfaron caught his breath; that mystery was solved, and much worse an explanation than he had suspected. Since she was leaving, Legolas had dared to ask her what he had never had the courage to before. Fearfaron reached back over and once again placed a comforting palm against Legolas' shoulder and squeezed.
"It was not much of an answer, then," he said sympathetically and Legolas sighed a ragged breath. "I did not finish telling you about Annaldír's mother." Fearfaron continued, again hoping to draw Legolas' thoughts away from the painful encounter. "Cúroniel did not want him to know her secret; I do not know why she thought it would be troubling to him." He paused. Legolas glanced back over his shoulder questioningly and unfolded a little.
"She had been with child, but a spider's raid on the path near the central mountains left her with a small bite wound. It was poisoned of course, and while the healers were able to prevent her death, the child, a female, was not so fortunate. My beloved nearly died from the grief, and this is what spawned her unreasoning fear regarding Annaldír's commission. She thought she would lose him, too, and could not stand the idea. She was wasting away before my eyes, and I could not bear that, so I am the one that started to suggest she go West to Valinor.
"After some years Cúroniel was convinced and I took her to the Havens with Annaldír as our guide. He broke down on the way back and grew steadily worse each day, until I was at last forced to break my promise. He was so relieved to know he was not the cause that he almost did not think about his lost little sister. He later told me he thought his mother did not want him to be told for fear he would feel she loved the new child more than he, since she left him here to be near her. I think perhaps that is right." Fearfaron fell silent, remembering his family; all now far beyond his reach. Legolas reached up and laid his hand over Fearfaron's gently.
"I am sorry," he said. "You have lost them all now." He could not control the slight quaver in his words.
Fearfaron gazed at the strong slender fingers overlying his sturdy stubby ones and smiled slightly. Here he had intended his story to divert the archer's attention from his grief, and Legolas responded by once more shouldering total responsibility for the carpenter's fate.
"Nay, Legolas; they are not lost to me! I will be reunited with my family, and you have ensured this will be!"
Legolas did not respond and the two were silent for awhile. Fearfaron hoped the archer was not withdrawing further into his gloomy shell of black remorse and sorrow, and softly squeezed the elegant fingers, rubbing the tough calluses absently with his thumb.
"Fearfaron, am I dying of grief?" Legolas suddenly said and looked back anxiously at his friend.
"You will not die if you have a reason to be alive. You have many reasons, do you not?" he asked pointedly. "You cannot go off into your Tawar and leave all this mess for someone else to deal with. Annaldír was not the only warrior lost!" He felt Legolas wince under the sting of these comments, and wished he knew some other way to get him to focus on life rather than death. "I'm sorry, but I can not allow you to just give up!" he attempted to soften the outburst. "I would, however, have you healed of this grief and returned to sleep without dreams before you venture back out upon the Tasks," he concluded. Legolas was quiet, considering his words.
"How do I stop seeing it? How do I stop feeling it? The dreams are not just nightmares; it is my reality now." Legolas spoke with a halting voice in tones choked with pain and anger. Fearfaron had no idea what the right response might be, and he searched through his mind for some logical and useful advice he could give.
What came to mind would undoubtedly be a touchy subject for Legolas, given his repressed concept of sexuality and his unconscious references to his former corpsman. Annaldír had never spoken of Legolas' private life, so if there had been a sexual connection there Fearfaron knew nothing of it. On the other hand, if Maltahondo was Legolas' lover, the carpenter felt that he should be with Legolas now. Some time in a loving union would go far toward easing the evil thoughts from Legolas' mind and restore his confidence in his own worth. Fearfaron had heard Ailinyéro's cruel words and knew Legolas felt stained and unlovable. Fearfaron took a deep breath; not sure this was a subject to be broached just yet.
"Legolas, is Maltahondo your lover?" he asked directly and felt Legolas jolt in surprise as he tried to pull out from under Fearfaron's hand. The carpenter would not allow it, however, and instead came closer and lifted Legolas up into a seated position against him between his legs, one arm encircling each shoulder and clasped around Legolas' chest.
"Nay, be still, be still! There is no need to fear or to be ashamed of what I ask you, Legolas. You need to talk to someone; whatever you have learned about sex is sadly lacking in truth. If Malthen is your love, you need to be with him now; it may be the best way to counter the effects of Ailinyéro's abuse. Do you see?" he spoke soothingly and Legolas relaxed a little, allowing his head to drop back against Fearfaron's shoulder.
Legolas dearly wanted to be able to tell Fearfaron about his relationship to Malthen; he needed someone to trust who would not judge him and condemn his actions. He had questions that had never been answered because there had never been anyone he could ask. He could not very well ask Malthen, since they concerned him so directly. His mother hated the idea of him even having a sex life, while Thranduil was disgusted with him entirely. Fearfaron had protected him and cared for him, and he felt the carpenter might have the answers he sought, or at least would listen and be able to reassure him that he was not defiled forever by what had happened. It was now Legolas' turn to inhale a steadying breath before daring to speak.
"He was my first, but we have not been together now for many years, over 150. In fact, he ended it and gave me to a new lover just before I entered the guard, and never said why," he said quietly and sighed again.
Fearfaron considered carefully the next step. Legolas' feelings for Maltahondo must be strong if memories of their love returned during such a stressful time. In his opinion, it would help if Legolas recalled this first encounter while awake, so that the baseness of the assault could not intrude. Also, Legolas' way of phrasing the ending the affair was troubling; it seemed the feelings were predominantly one-sided on Legolas' part. Fearfaron could not reconcile the concept of giving someone to another with true feelings of devotion. Perhaps Legolas had long kept his concerns hidden, having no one to share this hurt with.
"Legolas, tell me about him. How did you become lovers; he is much senior to you. He is closer to my age, I believe. Did someone choose him for you?" he posed the query as straightforwardly as he could. Legolas was nodding.
"In a way, my mother chose him. I suppose I was rather spoiled and babied by Naneth [Mother] since I was her only child. My room was just by hers; they connected. Malthen's quarters were just outside mine, and connected to mine but not Naneth's. I was growing up but had not moved to my own rooms yet, even though I was adolescent." Legolas looked up to see if Fearfaron was clear on what he was trying to say, and the talan-builder nodded. "I began to have dreams, well, dreams of passion one might say." Fearfaron snorted in amusement.
"One might!" he concurred gleefully and Legolas scowled a little. "Never mind, go on!"
"One night I was, well, loud and woke Naneth. She came in to see what was the matter and there I was sprawled across my bed completely undone. I will never forget her horrified expression and how red her face became in seconds! She absolutely fled the room into Malthen's quarters and dragged him back into mine on her way out to hers. She shut her door quite firmly, I remember." Fearfaron was openly giggling as the images played through his imagination, and he could believe that Legolas had been equally as crimson faced as his poor mother! Legolas was silent for a few moments and the carpenter nudged him on the arm to continue.
"Malthen tried to be matter-of-fact about it at first and just said it was all normal and nothing a female could understand, so not to worry that Naneth was upset with me. He had gotten a cloth and some water in order clean me off. When he removed my sleeping trousers he was very clinical and talked calmly about what I might expect, as I was older now. Then he removed my shirt and I was naked, propped up on my elbows with one leg trailing off the mattress and the other spread across the covers, and Malthen seated there on the edge of the bed between them!"
Legolas shifted his legs slightly and moved his hands from their resting-place in his lap, but Fearfaron gently replaced one and softly caressed Legolas' arm at the same time. Legolas stiffened, watching as Fearfaron unlaced the leggings and encouraged him to stroke the rapidly swelling hardness eagerly protruding.
"It is alright, Legolas; this is something you need. You are safe here; I will let no harm come to you while you relive this. Be still; all is well," he said softly. "Continue your story; Malthen has you stripped on your bed," he coaxed. Legolas took over the languid caressing of his penis as Fearfaron held him.
"He just looked at me for a few minutes; it felt to me as though his gaze was a tangible experience and I could feel his eyes focus on every part of me. I became very warm suddenly. Then, he seemed to get his mind back on the task and reached over to dip the cloth in the water. He had to lean completely across my body to do this, because he had set the basin on the table near the head of the bed. He was practically lying atop me then and I remember my heart was racing. I could feel how hot his other hand was where it rested against my thigh; my skin was sweating underneath it.
"Our eyes met and he dropped the cloth, grabbing a handful of my hair and kissing me so deep I thought he would make me choke! He sucked my tongue and then used his to caress my lower lip. He would break the kiss and stare at my lips and then lunge at my mouth again! He had this way of darting just the tip of his tongue between my lips and grazing the edge of my teeth! While he did these wondrous things to my mouth, his hands were everywhere. The one in my hair migrated to my ear and he began caressing the edge and up to the point with long slow movements. If his mouth had not been clamped over mine I am sure my cries would have wakened the entire household.
"His other hand was roaming across my body, searching for every spot that made me writhe and cry out in need. He spent a long time caressing the inside of my thigh down and up, over and over, right up to my balls and on every upstroke he would drag his thumb against them just slightly." Legolas' hand demonstrated the technique and he moaned softly.
"I was panting so hard between the kisses I feared I would pass out. He seemed to understand and his lips began exploring my neck and shoulders. He sucked on a place just inside my collarbone that almost caused me to spill my seed then and there, but he would not let me come. Everytime he saw me close he would clamp down hard on my cock pinching me there remorselessly till I calmed down. I would beg him not to stop, but he did time and again. Then he would start over, sucking, kissing, touching everywhere." Legolas again demonstrated the action, effectively stopping his release, and Fearfaron frowned a bit.
"Somehow during all this he was taking his clothes off one-handed, and soon was naked. His cock was erect and dripping, broad of girth and dark red and I longed to touch him, to feel what he was like, but he would not allow it. Everytime my hands grazed against him or reached for him he would push them back against the mattress. If he had not needed two hands to continue his exploration, he would have restrained mine for the duration of his seduction I am certain.
"His lips and tongue worked their way down to my chest and when he fastened down on my nipple I started crying out his name over and over, imploring him and entreating him and I did not even really understand what for." Legolas other hand was teasing and tugging his erect and deeply scarlet nipples as he sighed and thrust forcefully up into his fist.
"He tormented me, sucking the tingling flesh into his mouth and flicking his tongue right at the tips over and over, then breaking the suction and gently biting them and blowing across the wet skin. I was so sensitive by then that the slightest pressure sent torrents of delight through me and I arched off the bed attempting to force him to retain contact with his mouth." Legolas had to stop speaking as his breath came in shallow gasps and he twisted, bending his head back. Fearfaron watched as Legolas' fist again clamped down on the base of his erection and squeezed tight. It took him a few moments to regain enough control to speak.
"He had to halt my release again and again and he made me plead with him to continue. Time seemed to be passing not at all and I thought a week might have gone by with Malthen holding me there on the edge of orgasm with no relief promised. I though I was going mad and could not really think coherently. I wanted only to feel, for his attentions far surpassed the bliss of any of the dreams I had experienced in the night." Legolas did not resume his massaging movements, letting his fingers loosely encircle his swollen and aching cock. They lazily drifted up the shaft and off, allowing the rigid organ to fall back against his stomach with a dull slap. The fingers moved away to trace a path up his abdomen.
"At last he moved lower and licked my navel gently, running his teeth gently across the fold and pulling it back, darting his tongue in and across, while his hands slipped under my rear and began squeezing my buttocks and massaging up around my hips." Legolas' finally returned his hand to gently fondle the tightly drawn sac at the broad root of his member.
"Until then he had not touched my cock unless he knew I was going to come. He made me sit up, or rather he propped me up on my elbows and drew my attention to his hands. He rubbed and massaged from my chest down to my abdomen, where he slipped one hand behind my cock and pushed it up. The other hand pulled down the foreskin." Legolas demonstration revealed a red and quivering tip capped with a bead of pearlescent pre-come, and he dragged through it with his thumb as he ran a long slow stroke downward. He was panting loudly and stroked several times, but then again stayed himself, allowing his breathing to ease before continuing. Fearfaron was beginning to worry; Legolas was so close yet seemed unable to allow himself to experience the pleasure he so desperately craved.
"He kissed the head so softly, then pushed his tongue down across the slit. I was lunging wildly trying to get my cock up into his mouth, but he stopped me again, squeezing down with one hand while slipping two fingers of the other into my mouth, bidding me suck. I did, pulling at his fingers so hard they must have been purple by the time I calmed and my release was forestalled again." Legolas words fell to a breathless whisper as he again exposed the tender head of his member and held it that way, staring at it and panting while his hands remained still. Fearfaron found this disturbing and covered Legolas' hand with his own, pumping for him, encouraging him to satisfy his passion.
Legolas resisted at first, but then gave in, mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of the two hands. He began pushing forward into each downward thrust and arched back his head again. He increased the tempo and groaned loudly, while his other hand tugged down his leggings and then searched out its insertion point. He cried out and squirmed when he breached his own anus and began massaging his prostate in time to his hand motions. Before long his breathing was transformed into a continuous stream of softly uttered sighs and moans.
Fearfaron felt him tense and with a loud cry and shudder Legolas came, pumping out a creamy stream of warm semen. Unexpectedly, Fearfaron's hand shifted to cup and gently squeeze Legolas' balls and he lurched and shouted as his orgasm intensified under the combination of internal, external, and visual stimuli.
He at last relaxed, every muscle falling limp and slack; all his desire spent. He was gulping in air and leaned back fully on Fearfaron, grateful for the encircling arm that had protectively held him throughout. The carpenter stretched out and retrieved his pack, dragging it closer and searching through for a cloth. He gently wiped Legolas clean and tied up the leggings once more as the archer's heart rate slowed and his breathing returned to normal. Legolas smiled sheepishly and Fearfaron patted his arm approvingly. Legolas sighed.
"That is not how it was the first time, though," he said quietly, twisting his head around to see if he should continue. Fearfaron nodded.
"He had brought me to the brink again, and clamped down on me while giving me his fingers to suck. When I was relaxed he removed them and kissed me, and forced his first finger into me, working it in and out. I writhed against it at first until he found that deep spot of nerves and rubbed it lightly. It was better than the first kiss on my cock and I tried to push back so his finger would rub there again. He kept my mouth occupied with his tongue and forced in another finger, stretching me and penetrating deeper into me as I tried to spread my legs more and pressed back forcefully. Then he went back to my nipples and pumped his fingers into me at the same time, and I was begging again, desperately trying to drive his fingers deeper and arching my back to force the sensitive flesh back up into his mouth whenever he let it go. I so desperately wanted him to lick me, taste me, suck me, touch me, fuck me!
"Finally he could not hold himself back anymore and grabbed my legs, propping them up onto his shoulders. I had some idea of what he was going to do but had no experience. I was tense and so he kissed me sweetly, grabbing my cock in his fist, and he whispered in my ear 'Laiquassë, you are hard as iron!' Those were the only words he spoke the whole time. Then he dropped my penis and gripped my hips tightly and rammed his cock into me all at once, and I screamed from the pain and begged him to stop. My erection vanished in an instant and the surging waves of ecstasy were replaced with searing spikes of agony.
He did not stop; I do not think he could even hear me. I had never felt such suffering and was terrified because I felt like he was tearing me in two, but he did not notice. He was too far-gone to control himself and I was crying and desperately trying to get away, but with my legs so awkwardly placed I could not shift my weight to roll from under him. He was pounding into me and thankfully it did not take long for him to come, and the burning as his seed filled me was gut wrenching. He collapsed, falling over to his side and pulling himself out of me.
And then he noticed I was crying and he saw how frightened I was and he was mortified. He wept and begged forgiveness gathering me up and cradling me gently in his arms until I stilled to shuddering sobs amid tremors of pain. He cleaned me carefully and as gently as possible, but I was hurting so much it yet felt as though he was ripping me apart, and I cried again as he removed the blood and his seed from my legs. He held me against him and sang to me until I finally fell asleep, exhausted.
"The next day, Malthen was not there when I awoke, and I found myself hurting terribly when I sought to rise. I remained in my rooms and lay in bed most of the day. My mother did not say a word about the incident. Apparently she had not spent the night in her rooms, or she would surely have heard all that transpired. She had new rooms made ready for me, and Malthen transferred his quarters to one of those rooms. At tinnu, he came to help me transfer into my new surroundings, moving everything himself and carrying me to my new bed. When all was in order, he carefully checked me over and washed me again, and held me through the night. He was not able to make love to me again for weeks, I was so afraid of the pain."
Legolas completed this narration with a small sigh. He felt tired out and hoped Fearfaron would not want to talk anymore. He only wanted to sleep now, for the carpenter's plan had worked. Recounting his memory of Malthen had drained him and his orgasm had quenched the mounting demands of his body. He knew he could sleep without another nightmare. He shifted around and snuggled up comfortably against Fearfaron's shoulder and promptly dropped into a deep slumber.
Fearfaron was stunned. This was not the story he had expected to hear. He did not think this was the story Legolas had intended to tell. No wonder Legolas had been dreaming of Maltahondo; the recent violation had triggered the memory. He sensed Legolas falling asleep and decided to remain quiet. No wonder he had not died from Ailinyéro's assault. Fearfaron looked down at the fallen archer and shook his head, sad and angry both together.
Legolas did not even seem to understand that his trusted friend and protector had raped him.
TBC
Disclaimer: just borrowing, the characters and settings are Tolkien's, the words and original characters here are mine. No profit earned.