AN: Yikes…for those of you who reviewed, thank you very much! I didn't think this story would fly…but I'm so glad it did! Review, please, for it puts a warm fuzzy glow in my heart…short update, but I promise there will be more soon.

*~Legolas~*

Four days of these ridiculous stare downs take place, and I am becoming hard pressed to hide my growing physical let alone emotion reactions to his mere presence.

I have been plunged head long into more love and the physical implications of longing in four days than I have experienced in my entire life! My body comes alive, in my dreams, in my waking, and I learn.

One night, as Elrond holds my blue eyes in his grey ones, he makes his way to the door. Not looking away I follow as he silently bids me, slowly, out into the night, into the seclusion of a garden surrounded by a high hedge that blocks all light from the house and nearly all sounds.

Under the stars, he is luminescent, delicate, yet I know he holds the power to possess anything he wants; he has told me in his eyes. He has told me many things in this matter, yet he chooses to state the obvious:

"You leave in three days," he shrugs off a heavy, ornate formal robe and tosses it aside.

Carefully I look for lust in his eyes and find none; his eyes only emit gentleness but I keep my gaze guarded. "Indeed," I reply, tugging at my hair until it is loose and flowing freely around my face and shoulders.

We are now pacing a slow circle like warriors in a stand off, yet we are lovers, and instead of fighting to the death we would struggle against each other in a fight for dominance of ecstasy. The circle is growing smaller; his body is growing nearer.

"You want me," his gaze is momentarily broken as he peels his tunic off over his head.

All the more obvious; I do want him…by the stars above do I want him! But I would not be so foolish to admit to him aloud. "You want me," I throw his words back at him, replicating his movements and shedding my own soft green tunic. Our small ring of stand off is becoming fringed with clothing, hair ties, his elaborate circlet cast atop the soft folds of his robe.

"Is forbidden," I remind him, belt hissing as it snakes off my waist with a sharp pull.

He raises his eyebrows, hands on the waistband of his leggings, and smirks. "It is forbidden, but only if we are caught."

That is true.

Still we pace, and finally we are bare and rippling in the moonlight. His body is sleek but more powerfully built than my own, refined and groomed with centuries more of experience and wisdom in…everything.

I stop but he does not, circling around to my back where I can feel the warm of his body emanating onto my skin. For the first time he touches me, ever so lightly trailing his fingertips up my side then brushing my hair off my shoulder and I nearly collapse against him for want of more contact. His fingers trail fire over my skin!

No other has touched me, no one; ever.

I turn to face him, watching my hands as they trace up over his narrow hips to his chest, where I rest the tips of my fingers on his collar bone and look up to his face. He tilts his head so slightly and his experienced, expressive lips alight on my slightly clumsy, unsure mouth, but he is more than able to compensate for my lack of know how. I let down my guard slightly, melting against him and oh…his skin on mine is all I have dreamed of and more! Without meaning to I moan and he purrs, nearly a laugh in the depths of his throat.

Wrapping his arms around me he pulls me to the ground, the cool of the grass contrasting to the hotness of his body over me. His hands and his lips are everywhere; I am struggling as pleasure overwhelms reason; I am desperate for him, my own hands cannot touch him enough, my own awakening heightening when I hear him cry out my name in delight.

At length, when I think I cannot stand it anymore, he flips me over and I feel him, hot, huge, against the inside of my thigh.

Oh, no. I may be (as of yet) un-pierced and innocent, but I am not ignorant to the ways of lovemaking. He will not master me - no one shall! - and so begins the battle of determination and pride. We are desperate to take each other but neither wants to be the first – he is un-penetrated by males as well; I can see it in his eyes. Our fierce pride tightens to near snapping between us.

Very well, I know what I can do that will make him furious. Pushing him off I stand, pick my clothes up from the ground and stalk off, still naked.

"Where, Prince of Mirkwood, are you going?" he calls after me, tone mildly inquisitive.

I turn; his eyes betray his tone and I am pleased. "To bed."

*~Elrond~*

For the first time in many thousands of years, I have a childish but very strong urge to throw something at the perfect and receding backside of Legolas. Oh, I love him, but even those that you love can make you angry (as Elladan and Elrohir managed to demonstrate almost daily when they were growing up)! I draw a small smirk of satisfaction when I hear Erestor's voice, just inside the door.

"Erm…good evening, Legolas…"

"Good evening and good night," came the golden elf's nonchalant reply.

Unlike Legolas, I have not the desire to traverse the halls of Imladris with nothing but my cast off clothing held in a practical spot and I dress quickly, billowing robes hiding the uncomfortable evidence of our incomplete liaison.

The fact that he was forbidden was no longer an object to me. I was sitting under the starlight thinking of exactly how I would finish what had started when Glorfindel came through the small opening in the hedge.

"I had almost forgotten about this place," he began conversationally though he looked surprised to see me, and maybe a little troubled?

Nodding in acknowledgement, I wondered if he had a purpose in coming here.

"I just saw Legolas of Mirkwood making his way to his rooms in a rather interesting set of attire, or rather, lack there of."

That was the last thing I wanted to think, much less talk about. Glorfindel definitely does not have a purpose in coming here.

Trying to hide my frustration I rise, bid the elf lord good night, and flounce off to my chambers where I can sulk, ache, and scheme in peace.

*~Legolas~*

I want Elrond.

Anything less, any female, myself, anything else is unsuitable. Any acknowledgement of forbiddeness is now gone, replaced by the memory of his touch, his kisses, the scent of his skin and the swell and ebb of muscle under the taunt sleekness of his skin. I want his voice in my ears and his hands in my hair. I do not care anymore if it is what I should not have, nor indeed what will happen.

Again I am pacing in my room, fingernails against my teeth, uncomfortable, the furious pacing agitating me beyond measure yet I do not stop. Perhaps I should go to him after and submit, or perhaps with a little more encouragement he will submit to me after all, inexperienced I may be. Perhaps he is still in the garden…

Yes, I will go to him in the garden, for my want is swallowing up my pride…

Before I can change my mind I am racing out into the night, swiftly and silently skimming over the cool stone path toward the break in the tall hedge. As I near my destination I slow, making an attempt to stop the pounding of my heart. Breathing steady, I pause.

There are strange noises; moans of pleasure coming from within.

I do not know what it was that prompted me to poke my head where it most certainly did not belong, but had I not beheld it things between myself and Elrond might have taken a very different turn of events.

In the moonlight, in the (unsuccessful) privacy of this enclosed garden, were Elladan and Glorfindel. Dark hair mingling with light, Elladan taking this powerful Balrog slayer, making him sob and plead with want between a stream of unending Quenyan love words. Elladan too was swept away in the bliss of his lover's body as Glorfindel moved under him, pleasuring him, making Elladan cry out as fervently as he; the dedication in their eyes was enough to make me cry. They were in tune to each other, every stroke, every kiss; they knew each other like they knew their own bodies. At the peak of their ecstasy they cried out as one, then fell boneless together tangling and kissing and murmuring promises of unending devotion.

Suddenly aware of the fact that I was trespassing on the most intimate of happenings, I fled down to the safety of my room, shaking; sweating. The love between them was so intense; there was no dominance…it did not seem weak; it was beautiful…and they were males. They were males! One of them was the son of Elrond! The other one of his oldest friends!

My mind was still in a jumble over its self when there was a quiet knocking at the door. I hesitated. Who could it be at this hour and what the stars would they want? Begrudgingly, I rose and yanked open the door…and nearly fell backwards when I saw that it was Glorfindel on the other side! At least he was dressed, and though his hair was down one could never guess he had had such an intimate connection scarcely a quarter of an hour ago.

My brain and my tongue took a minute to function properly. "Erm…come in?"

Glorfindel stepped inside, closing the door and leaning against it casually, expression unreadable though his blue eyes are staring into me to the point of discomfort.

I sit on the couch but he makes no move to join me.

"I know what you saw earlier, Prince of Mirkwood."

He did? Raising my eyebrows I question, "And?"

Ever the diplomat, he continued. "I know that your father, King Thranduil, is known for his – forgive me – intolerance of things that are not conventional of elven society. I do not mean dwarves in this case."

My mouth twitches and I nearly smile. "I know of what you speak."

Emotion suddenly flashes through Glorfindel's eyes but his face remains unchanged and his words are low but steady. "I would do anything to protect Elladan; but I suppose you do not understand the nature of our relationship. If you understand anything I will say to you, understand this: I have lived, Legolas; I have fought, I have slain and I have died, and I would do all these things again if it meant keeping him from humiliation and shame."

I lower my gaze to one long hand resting purposefully on his sword hilt.

"Will you go for your knife?"

Slowly I lick my lips as realization of his fear comes. "Do not fear me, Glorfindel. I, unlike my father, would not expose you and Elladan to shunning and death." I hesitate and blanch as I think of what would happen if Ada were ever to find out about my…attraction. "What you and Elladan have," I admit softly, "Is beautiful."

I wish I could have it.

Glorfindel nearly sags to the floor with relief, and comes to sit beside me on the couch seeming almost conversational. "And of you?" he probes gently.

"And what of me?" I return, startled at the question and my own reaction, perhaps harsher than I meant; I have always shielded my thoughts and feelings jealously. I inhale sharply, and let it out through pursed lips. "No, forgive me," I say quickly as he shrugs and makes to leave. "I…" Suddenly I long to tell him of my wants, of what I cannot have, of what nearly happened, and even though I am sure he would understand, it is not my place to expose the Lord of Imladris. "I love another," I finally settle on. "But, like you, it is forbidden and to bring to light the both of us would not be prudent."

Regarding me with gentle comprehension Glorfindel sits down again. "A male?"

I nod. I am shocked at myself; I have never opened my thoughts to anyone like this; not even my friends and family.

In an even gentler voice he murmurs, "Your first?"

"My first anything. His first male." Taking Glorfindel into my confidence is a welcome liberation; I must tell someone or I will pace myself into the floor and chew my fingers bare!

"Love is precious, is it not?" He smiles. "Have you made love?"

Elf lords of all kinds can look mischievous!

"Almost," I admit. "We got in a bit of a disagreement of who would take who. Maybe we are both afraid, though I never thought that lovemaking could be…the way you and Elladan were together." I have a feeling he could see much of my thoughts, just like Elrond.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling to himself as his gaze searched my thoughts. "I think you need to go to the one you love, and trust him. Relax. Do not think about anything else except his touch, and in the end you will not care who takes who. Love making is beautiful if you let it be. It is not about power, or being mastered."

Oh. I did not let it be beautiful.

And I have already forgone once chance; the Fellowship will depart in a matter of days; what am I to do?