Warning for slash in this chapter.
Chapter 15 part b:
Tindómion stood on the verandah outside his rooms that linked the rooms of those he called friends, Glorfindel, Elrohir, Elladan. There was a guest room there also and that was where Legolas Thranduillion had been housed since he was uncovered as the son of Thranduil. The other men had been gossiping how Legolas had caused uproar in the House. It seemed that Legolas had arrived, soaking wet and barely noticed, and the House staff had whisked him up into the eaves, thinking him merely Thranduil's messenger. When Erestor had discovered the truth, there had been murder in his eyes for being so easily duped.
Tindómion and most of the men of the barracks had found it highly amusing, especially when they heard how Legolas had been caught stripping off in the wine cellar by none other than the master of the House himself. There was gossip too, as there always was about newcomers, and even more inevitably when one was as noteworthy as Legolas himself was, Tindómion thought appreciatively. The Mirkwood visitor had flirted outrageously with the housemaids, who were all swooning over him and claiming he had made advances upon them. Privately, and knowing Legolas better now, Tindómion thought that it was quite possible. There was more scandalous gossip that Berensul, one of the House stewards, had seduced him. Or the other way around, thought Tindómion. Berensul would hardly have resisted, for he was known to be one of Erestor's spies and would have been expected to find out all he could. How much more entertaining therefore, for the inhabitants of the House, that Legolas Thranduillion had sneaked in and fooled everyone for so long in spite of Berensul's best efforts. And no sooner had he been discovered, although Tindómion could not remember how that had happened, than Legolas had been whisked out of the eaves and deposited in the rather more luxurious apartment near to his own.
Conveniently, Tindómion thought.
He looked out over the starlit lawns and tranquil rose gardens. He was considering whether to knock on Legolas' door to see if they might continue where they had left off, but Legolas was departing on his quest tomorrow and Tindómion departing on his own rather terrifying mission. He sighed and was lonely. Inevitably his thoughts turned and trod the well worn path of recrimination and regret.
He wished Gil was here.
He wished he had stayed at his side in that last battle.
He wished with all his heart he could undo the past and work it all again.
An iron railing swept elegantly along the verandah and whispered into air like a line drawing rather than metal. He leaned on it and sighed. His heart weighed heavily tonight.
A soft scuffle of feet on the verandah attracted his attention and he turned his head.
Legolas stood there.
His long pale hair streamed down his back to his hips and he stood naked in the moonlight, befuddled with dreams and his eyes half-glazed, staring over the lawns. Over one strong shoulder slid the wild painting on his skin, that in the starlight seemed almost sentient, as if a mythical creature sat on his shoulder and watched with him. It slid around his chest and waist, slithered about his hips and its tail, for so it seemed to Tindómion, curled about one thigh and trailed down his leg. Almost it seemed that Legolas had stepped out of the ancient past, before the sun and moon, and stood only in starlight at ancient cuivénen. He seemed still half asleep.
Tindómion could not take his eyes off him, but too, he wondered if Legolas was afraid. Going into Mordor with the one thing for which Sauron scoured Middle Earth, its insidious whispering tempting each one of them to take it, and only nine companions to Frodo. It was so foolhardy it almost took his breath. And daring. And courageous.
He turned and watched Legolas blink himself awake and stare around himself with wide eyes until he fixed upon Tindómion. He smiled and his long hair slid over his shoulder as he tilted his head slightly in an obvious invitation.
Tindómion smiled. He was lonely and tomorrow they both set off on quests that led them into mortal danger.
They did not speak but stepped towards each other, and unsure if this was still a dream, Legolas held out his hand and led Tindómion within, into his chamber.
This time it was not the desperate and frenzied fumbling of earlier. There was almost a sense of sadness beneath the physical yearning.
'I leave in the morning for Mithlond,' Tindómion said as he shrugged out of his silk robe and left it curled on the floor like some sleeping beast. He looked down at the ties on his shirt to undo them whilst Legolas watched from the bed.
The Woodelf rested on his elbow, leaned his cheek in his hand and regarded Tindómion intently. 'Surely you do not sail?' he exclaimed.
Tindómion glanced up briefly at him, a smile tugged lightly at his mouth. 'You think me so fickle that I would leave these shores just as Sauron grows strong?' He smiled and pulled his shirt over his head, balled it up and threw it in a corner for he was hard and needy and wanted to lie skin to skin with Legolas.
He looked down at Legolas, half lying on the bed, the sheet pulled low over his lean hips and the dragon, for he saw it now he was closer, curling over Legolas' muscled and lean torso. Tindómion breathed hard and said, 'Glorfindel goes with me, and Elrohir. We do not sail. We will be a decoy.' He was aware of the irony that both of them were riding to possible death, and that he intended to draw danger from the other so that Legolas might face a greater danger and more likely death. They exchanged a rueful smile. 'We ride West to draw the Eye of the Enemy. You will leave at dusk so that you may slip away unnoticed and unseen.'
It seemed this was new to Legolas and yet Tindómion thought Mithrandir would have sent a message to each of the Fellowship. Legolas sat up. 'We leave at dusk? That is a strange time for a journey to begin,' he mused. 'But in all our meetings, Mithrandir has said over and over that secrecy is our best weapon.'
'This time tomorrow neither of us will be in Imladris,' Tindómion said softly. He looked upon Legolas tenderly and then said, 'You will be on your way south along the Hithaeglir and I will be riding along the Greenway with hopes to meet the Nazgûl once more on Amon Sul.'
Legolas almost gasped then. 'Is that not truly dangerous?'
Tindómion laughed softly and leaned down to stroke a tendril of hair back from Legolas' face. 'Says the Elf who would go to Mordor with but eight companions and the One Ring.' His eyes were soft and he pressed his mouth against Legolas'. 'You are very fair and so brave it takes my breath away.' Tindómion's eyes travelled down Legolas' body and back up to his face appreciatively. He touched very lightly, the faint scar on Legolas' chest and frowned. He would have asked how he received it but Legolas cringed as if ashamed.
'I am the least of my kin!' he said, looking away. 'I have stumbled and blundered my way into this and I cannot believe that Elrond chose me. I have done nothing to deserve it.'
Tindómion almost laughed but for the distress in his fair face. 'The least of your kin? Then they must be the Valar!' He laughed gently because he did not want to frighten Legolas or to diminish him in any way. He felt regret that they had not met earlier, though Gil was there, an unseen, unspoken presence between them, but he thought that Legolas understood, and that Gil would forgive him this anyway. He lay on the bed beside Legolas, propped himself up on his elbow and stroked Legolas' thigh.
'My brothers are so much more than I,' Legolas said regretfully. 'Laersul is the leader of our warriors. He keeps the Shadow at bay in the Wood, and Thalos can talk the silk from a spider,' he said. 'I do not know why my father chose to send me,' he added miserably.
Tindómion laughed and shifted closer to Legolas so his breath was warm on Legolas' skin. 'And their youngest brother crossed the Hithaeglir on his own and braved the Nazgûl to boot? He is one of the Nine Walkers who will take the One Ring to Mordor and destroy Sauron.' Tindómion smiled and wrapped his hand in Legolas' long hair. 'I think your brothers will be proud of you and I know your father will be.'
Legolas opened his mouth to protest something about being unworthy, Tindómion was sure, but he wanted no more of that and stilled his protests with a kiss that burned hotly through his blood and loins.
'Did you not join Imladris in its defence of Middle Earth?' he murmured against Legolas ' cheek. He kissed Legolas again and this time pressed his strong powerful body against the whole length of Legolas. Legolas gasped, let his head fall back against the pillow and sighed. 'You fought alongside Glorfindel and the Sons of Thunder against the gathering army of Orcs.'
Tindómion continued, stroking his skin, tracing the lines and swirls that were painted on his breast, over his heart. He stared at them; here was a green-gold oak leaf, and a beech, ash and thorn. And here tengwar script that read Legolas' own names and his lineage. It was there too on his other arm and on each thigh. He did not ask why- he could guess and it made him suddenly serious and angry that there were those who doubted the Woodelf, who whispered about him. 'Did you not slay an Orc that was Elrohir's trophy? That was a feat to brave Elrohir's wrath however righteous the torment.' For Tindómion thought Elrohir right to inflict such warnings upon the Orcs, to make them fear Imladris' wrath. 'Did you not risk yourself to bring Rhawion out of Phellanthir? They say you are like our Sons of Thunder, that you will not leave a comrade behind. They say you are fair and brave and that the Woodelves are wild and free...'
Tindómion pushed at the waistband of his own breeches so they slid over his lean hips and paused for a moment teasingly until Legolas bit his lip and looked into his eyes. He saw how Legolas watched him, those long green eyes and how he licked his lips almost nervously. He wondered why Legolas was nervous; he was no shy virgin.
He gently reached up and cupped Legolas' cheek. 'Why do you doubt yourself? Your worth? I have told you what is said about you.'
Legolas looked away and Tindómion sighed and said, as if he were talking to his youngest warrior, 'This is the Ring that tells you that you are unworthy.' He put his hand beneath Legolas' chin and brought his head up so the Woodelf had to look into his own silver-grey eyes. 'It whispers to you of your unworthiness, does it not? You have felt it? Heard it?'
Legolas began to shake his head in denial, and then stopped.'Perhaps there is some truth in what you say,' he admitted wonderingly. 'But how could a mere ring do that?'
'It is no mere ring,' Tindómion replied soberly and he sat up, all playfulness gone.'It was made with the curvë of my kin,' he said seriously, loosening the thick braid of his hair and carding it loose so it lay across his shoulders. 'Celebrimbor knew how to unlock the Power in particular metals and gems. He learned it from his father who learned it from Fëanor himself, but Celebrimbor perfected it.' Tindómion sighed. 'His knowledge went beyond anything the world has ever seen... But he would not listen to those of us who warned him against Annatar. And so he was drawn into the making of the Rings, and that is why Sauron destroyed Ost-in-Edhel so completely.'
Legolas opened his mouth to speak but Tindómion kissed him before he could speak and pulled his hands through Legolas' own hair, tugged gently. 'I seem to have rather more clothes on than you,' Tindómion observed smiling, and he slid completely out of his breeches now and dropped them on the floor beside the bed and looked at Legolas.
Legolas suddenly slid to the floor on his knees and pushed at Tindómion to sit on the edge of the bed. Then he leaned his elbows on Tindómion's thighs, and let his hand drift over the flat belly, the hard chest and stroke his nipples gently.
Then he reached to thread his fingers through the heavy bronze hair, lifted it in his hand. 'No one in the Wood has hair of such a colour. Is it common amongst the Noldor?' he asked.
'No. Indeed I have not heard that anyone beyond my kin have had hair this colour,' Tindómion said, 'but that is not necessarily seen as a good thing.' He laughed breathlessly and caught Legolas' hand. He kissed Legolas hard, pushing his tongue firmly against the full lips and into his mouth, feeling the surge of lust spike as Legolas sucked on his tongue and he thrust it in further aggressively and pulled Legolas onto the bed, shoved him down and straddled his thighs.
'I think you talk too much,' he said in a mocking playful growl and pinched Legolas's nipples hard so he yelped slightly and grabbed at Tindómion's thighs. Tindómion lowered his head then to Legolas's chest and sucked at one nipple, letting his hand stroke firmly one muscular thigh until he brushed the hard cock. Legolas gasped, and Tindómion smiled to himself with one nipple caught lightly between his teeth and then he slid his whole body down so he lay pressed against Legolas and gave one long lick from his chest to his mouth and kissed him hard and passionately until Legolas was lost in desire, his eyes half-closed.
Tindómion leaned in and kissed Legolas again, but much more softly than he had before. 'I do not think we will see each other again this side of the war,' he said regretfully 'Unless you come to bid me farewell when I leave.' He looked at Legolas, hoping he would come. And when he said, 'Of course,' Tindómion felt his heart swell, perhaps not with love such as he had felt for Gil, but with affection, admiration for the Woodelf who was going to Mordor with the One Ring.
Suddenly that hurt. Those odds were too high, too heavily stacked against him and he wondered what in all of Arda was Elrond thinking.
'Ah, you are beautiful and brave,' he said instead because he did not wish to ruin the moments they had together. 'I want to remember you like this.' He grasped Legolas' cock firmly and tugged on it so Legolas sank back into the bed and his eyes half closed, long lashes fluttered against his cheek.
Tindómion knew how to give and take pleasure. He found Legolas as skilled and a demanding lover, a warrior used to giving and taking in the lust-filled aftermath of battle and it was passionate and hard and satisfying. Deeply so.
Tindómion closed his mouth over Legolas and sucked hard, found Legolas' hands fisted in his hair, and his eyes closed, heard him gasp. It did not take long before he was pulled up to be kissed deeply. He found Legolas's legs tightly wrapping around him, pulling him in so that he plunged deeply into the Woodelf. There was a liquid pooling of ecstasy; his own nerves on fire and he plunged into sensation and pleasure and forgot all else. His skin was aflame with desire, his balls pulsating, throbbing, churning. His muscles clenched and he went rigid and exploded in hot liquid.
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