This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". I cut out the sex and most of the violence scenes. I tried to keep most of the plot, but had to rewrite small details because of the parts that I deleted. If you are over 18 and not opposed to reading explicit sex scenes, I strongly recommend your the uncensored version.

I hope you have fun with either story, and I would appreciate a comment.

When Lord Elrond looked up, he could not process what he saw. He could not identify single individuals, and the colours around him blurred into smear that resembled the paintings of when his sons had been young and played with the colours that they had found in Lindir's study. After a few seconds, his eyes recognised the shape of Orc bodies in various stages of grey with splashes of red blood wetting their skin and the grass on which they lay. To his dismay, he now realised how many of his own kind were among the dead.

He started counting when he walked the battlefield. It was a futile endeavour as his shoes and his robe were soaked in the red liquid already.

"The enemy is dead," Glorfindel confirmed loudly, as if the piles of orc flesh were not indication enough.

"And so are many of our people," remarked Elrond, though in a rather low voice. He sighed deeply. So much sorrow they would have to bring to Mirkwood. He lifted his head and looked around for the elves who had survived the battle. There were many he knew and was befriended with, but there was also a fair share of woodland elves who were helping the wounded by treating their injuries and supporting them if they were too weak to walk. It made Elrond proud – although he would never admit it in the presence of the Elven-king – that both the Elves from Mirkwood and Imladris were assisting each other, regardless of their origin or colour of hair. Maybe need fuses together even the greatest adversaries, he thought and remembered his own venture regarding the befriending – and more – of a Mirkwood resident.

Slowly, the elves had stabilised everyone to make their way back into the forest. Most of the horses had either been slain or run away, so that one elf was sent on the fastest horse to overbring the news of the won battle. Won, Elrond thought and felt repelled by this word. With so many dead, we can hardly call this battle won. Apart from the messenger, the rest of the horses were used to carry the most severely wounded, but even without those who could barely walk, they had lost their motivation to advance quickly. Elrond himself felt comfortable with their steady pace. It gave him more time to think before he had to answer for the outcome of the fight before Thranduil himself.

The sun was setting when they arrived at the big, wooden gates. It was a wonder how light shone into the forest after all since the canopy layer was so thick. He felt strange when entering the foreign realm, but it might have just been the effect of the minor harms his body graced. The injured elves were taken to the healers, and Elrond noticed a light brown-haired guard who looked at him and nodded towards the king's room. He had feared that he would have to attend to this uneasy dialogue immediately. Two more guards were stationed on each side of the door, opening it for him. The heavy wings swung open, and there he could see the Elven-king full of grace and elegance, full of arrogance and haughtiness.

Elrond advanced until he stood on the stony platform in front of the stairs that let to Thranduil's throne. The elf had not moved since Elrond had entered the room. Not even a strand of his perfectly aligned blonde hair had changed its place.

"Tell me of our casualties," he demanded.

Elrond swallowed hard. Thranduil did not even ask whether they had successfully slain the orc army, he just assumed it.

"Many of us have been killed, many of us have been wounded," he answered with a dry mouth.

Now, Thranduil bothered to stand up and paced the staircase down with a confidence that made Elrond wonder whether he practiced this descend whenever no one was watching. The tall, blonde elf stopped less than twenty centimetres before him.

"You have been injured, too," he said and touched Elrond's chin with his long, spindly fingers.

"Only minorly," Elrond admitted. He hated that Thranduil looked down on him for that, but he swore that even the Elven-king himself could not have come out of this battle without the tiniest mark.

Thranduil's hair swirled but came to a halt as perfectly sitting as ever. He reclimbed to his throne but stopped midway. "My son's battalion encountered several Nazgûl burning a settlement of Woodmen. They have cast them out of my realm."

As that was all that Thranduil had to say on this topic, Elrond left without casting a second eye on the mighty king having taken seat on his enormous throne. He must be compensating for something, Elrond thought as the doors closed again behind him.

It was getting late, and the elves who had returned from the battle were swarming towards the dining hall. Elrond did not feel much hunger, he rather wanted to take a soothing bath. Not only would it be warm and clean, he could also relax and review the events of the day from a wiser perspective.

He had been accommodated in a private room unlike his fellow soldiers from Imladris who had to share a room with four or six. But he was a Lord, and even though Thranduil did look down on him, he did allow him one or another privilege. He gave his Mirkwood servant the rest of the evening off so that he would be able to join the common dinner. Elrond started the fire to heat the water himself and waited patiently to ensure that the water flowing into the white bathtub was of a pleasant temperature.

His bathroom was round, supported by columns that were decorated with wooden leaves. The bathtub stood in the middle, elegantly, and Elrond dropped his heavy armour on the floor. He regarded his body and noticed how many scratches there were, glistering redly in the shimmering light of the torches at the walls. He stepped into the water, twitching because of the heat. But once he had immersed his whole body in the transparent liquid, he moaned in relaxation. The burden of the entire day dissolved in the water with the fine streaks of blood that came off his body. The water was shimmering in a dark yellow-ochre, now intercepted by brownish-red streams.

He had just closed his eyes when he heard the door creaking open. He was alert at once, but the silhouette that stood in the entry was one that Elrond was too familiar with already.

"I missed you at dinner," the young, blonde elf said and entered the bathroom without even asking for permission. He closed the door silently behind him.

"I was not hungry," Elrond murmured, slightly annoyed by his alone-time being disturbed.

Legolas came closer and bent down to Elrond's face. His blond hair was touching the Lord's chest.

"Your father said that your defence of the Woodmen against the Nazgûl was victorious," Elrond said while regarding the youngling's lips.

"He was exaggerating, that's for sure," Legolas said and inhaled deeply. He liked the smell of battle, of blood and sweat, especially when it was coming from Elrond. He came closer to finally give his lover a kiss.

"Your body marks a vicious battle," Legolas said, and his fingers glided over the many wounds that decorated Elrond's body.

"I survived," Elrond whispered and rose towards Legolas' face in anticipation. The young elf finally gave in and pressed his soft lips against the experienced ones from Elrond. "Does your father know about us?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head in surprise.

"Would he approve of us?" Elrond asked in a voice that a master would use if a blunt mistake of his apprentice had come to his attention.

Legolas maintained eye contact and responded, "he would never allow us to be together."

Elrond would have loved to stay so close to his lover and enjoy the moment, but he was abruptly disturbed by the loud thud of the opening wood doors. His head spun around, and he would have nearly yelled at the sight of a dark silhouette in the corridor, unmistakably the Elven-king himself, wearing his grand crown and flowing robe.

He strode forward with a hasty pace, the doors falling shut behind him. He stepped into the light of the torch, regarding from above the two elves, obviously having kissed a moment ago.

"What is this?" he demanded in a firm, nearly trembling voice.

Neither Elrond nor Legolas dared to respond. Thranduil's aqua-coloured eyes fixated on those chestnut brown eyes of the half-elf.

"It was me, Ada," Legolas suddenly found his voice. "I seduced Lord Elrond."

"I understand what you see in my son, but I am blind to see why my son has chosen you. But now we don't have the time to talk about this. We should go to the feast. The people are expecting my return, as well as his son, and your elves will need a strong leader like you." Elrond was surprised to hear a compliment like this from the vainest of all elves in Mirkwood. "And once we have done our duty presence, we may continue this in my private room."

Chapter 2

For Elrond, the dinner could not be over quick enough. They had already missed the most of it, but the elves started to sing and compose songs about the day's victories. Legolas fitted in perfectly, dancing with his long, blonde hair swinging around his shoulders. Elrond watched his graceful moves with amazement.

"More wine?" a servant next to him asked politely. Elrond was pulled out of his days dreams and held his goblet up to allow the red Dorwinion to be poured in. He smelled the liquid and took a large gulp. His butt ached and the alcohol lessened the pain. He also needed its dazing effect to come to terms with the unexpected sexual adventure he had just had the pleasure of experiencing. He looked over to his left where Thranduil was standing in fresh, elegant robes of silver and black. His head was lifted, his with pompous rings adorned hand held a brazen trinket of which he took a nip from time to time. He had completely ignored Elrond since they had joined the feast.

When Elrond felt the tiredness grow on him, he decided to put his cup on one of the large wooden tables and made his way for the exit. Once in the corridor, the music immediately faded, leaving him with his thoughts. He daydreamt of that patrol ride to the edge of the forest where he had spent an afternoon lying with Legolas in the grass near a river. But he was quickly caught back in reality.

"Where do you think you are going?" he heard the powerful voice of the Elven-king behind him. He turned to see Thranduil with a cup of Dorwinion in his hand.

Elrond did not dare to respond, so the king strode forwards.

"I love your son and that is all that I will say about it," Elrond said aggressively. He needed to show King Thranduil that he would do anything for Legolas.

Thranduil nodded. He appeared to have given this coupling thought. "I agree – for now. If you hurt him or make him unhappy, I will make you regret it," he warned him.

Chapter 3

As soon as Elrond opened his eyes, he felt slightly hungover.

Elrond did not dare to move when he noticed Legolas uncurl. The young, blonde elf sat up and looked at the other seemingly sleeping elf. He started caressing Elrond's thighs, ignored his genitals, and moved upwards over his belly and chest. The Lord of Imladris could no longer fake his sleep as he enjoyed his touch too much. He opened his eyes and looked into the beautiful gemstones that were Legolas' eyes. His smile was the cutest of any being in Middle Earth that he had ever met.

"Good morning," Legolas whispered and bent down to press his lips gently against Elrond's.

Elrond wanted to ask Legolas so many questions, about how they should continue, about his relationship with his father, about what his father expected from him, how serious this affair was to him, but he could not get himself to say anything.

"My people will need to see me the day after a battle. They will have to train again and –" he said instead.

"Your people know how to train. They are very skilful, and so are you. I have seen you train with the sword and move around the trees as if you were one with nature. Very sexy, you know," Legolas whispered and placed his hands on Elrond's chest. He listened to the rhythmic heartbeat of the Peredhel lord and started playing with strands of his long brown hair. He undid the tail of the hair strands above his ear that Elrond had bonded together and then started to braid these strands.

Elrond wanted to enjoy this care when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Within seconds, Legolas had jumped up and dragged Elrond towards the wardrobe. He then energetically opened the door and demanded, "what is it?"

"The north-west patrol has encountered another spider web less than half a day away from here. They have returned a messenger who requests aid," the servant stammered. "Your father has talked to Cwingand. He is preparing an appropriate army. Your father asked you to lead them."

"I shall get prepared," Legolas said while hastily clothing himself.

The servant only nodded and went away.

"Another spider nest? The Nazgûl attacking so far north… There must be something larger at work," Elrond said as he turned to his clothes.