A/N: Here you go, sorry for the delay, had a little trouble writing this. I think I got the emotions right. I'm going to probably update again tomorrow or the next day with an Elladan scene. But I wanted to put this up so I can satisfy your appetites. I know how much it sucks to wait for stories to be updated!
Oh yeah, the name of my last chapter, "A licking, a lick" might have been confusing to some of you. "A licking" is another word for punching somebody (which is what Elladan did in that chapter) and "A lick" which is what Elrohir did to Elladan (to find Legolas' taste still on him). Hope that helps.
I thought the last chapter was my favorite, but I think this one definitely rivals it.
Also, thank u so much for the reviews; they make me realize stuff about the characters I didn't even know I was putting across. Keep 'em coming!
Legolas knocked softly on the door, "Lord Haldir, it is I, Legolas."
The door opened immediately but slowly, Haldir stood there in a robe that looked like it was suited for bed rather than for sparring. A grin seemed to be plastered on his face because a plan was already fixed in his mind.
Legolas immediately became embarrassed, thinking that he must've come at the wrong time, "We were to meet at 3 AM, am I correct?"
Haldir took at step forward and let a hand fall on the prince's shoulder, it then lowered until it found itself clasping the hand of the prince, "You are not only correct, but you are right on time."
Legolas smiled, Perhaps this will be easier than I thought it would be. Haldir pulled him in the room slowly and shut the door without a sound, he was an elf and it showed. The marchwarden began examining the stained quiver and sheathed blades secured on the prince's back. The prince was just happy he wasn't thrown over a chair yet.
"I guess you brought the twin blades, am I correct?" Haldir mocked, imitating the prince's silly question before.
"Yes," Legolas answered simply. They unsheathed with ease and sparkled in the moonlight. A small fire lit the room therefore the amount of light was limited. A cold wind began to blow vehemently from the window and seemed to spit small tiny droplets of icy rain on the duo.
Haldir managed to take the blades away with amazing agility. Legolas hadn't known they had left his own hands until he saw them in Haldir's, nonetheless, he was surprised. His face shined as the tiny droplets began to cover it and the moon shone brightly on it.
Haldir smiled and laughed in self-amusement, "I think you lose, Prince Legolas. You have no weapons left. As you can imagine, we will not be doing any sort of archery practice in here, this room wouldn't look nice with an array of holes in it, now would it?"
Legolas was angry at himself for being defenseless even though he was not here to fight, not that it helped much as the marchwarden probably surpassed his own abilities in martial activities, "No, it would look horrible."
Haldir threw the knives and they stuck in the wall and he proceeded to take off his robe, leaving only a thin, translucent robe beneath bound with a green cotton belt, "So, now that we are done sparring, its time for other activities."
After a slight gulp, the prince slowly removed his tunic and let it fall to the floor. His heart raced with excitement, he was finally doing it, he was finally getting ready to seduce the famed marchwarden. He could almost hear the approving voice of his father in his mind. His mind started to become blank and the only things that existed were his body and the body in front of him.
The older blond let his eyes feast on the bare chest before him. It wasn't long before his fingers let themselves explore as well. Legolas feigned a moan and slowly did the same. He carried out the same seductive movements, the same proper touches, the same everything: nothing was original in this type of affair.
It wasn't long before Legolas heard false confessions of love, sweet whispers, exasperated moans, and other feigned sounds escape his very own lips. It was always the same: his mind unattached to his body's functions. Haldir seemed to be enjoying himself, the other really couldn't care whilst he was numb like this.
Suddenly, a tongue began to ravage his mouth. Legolas woke up with much surprise as if a poison was hastily poured in his mouth, No, don't kiss me! Elladan… he tried to shut out that memory which was created only a short time ago. Legolas couldn't kiss back for some reason; his mind realized it had control again. He was awake, he knew that he was about to make love to someone he knew he didn't love. Suddenly, he became afraid of Haldir and feared his advances. The blond marchwarden's touches terrified him: they reminded him of the poison the orcs used in the dirt- the sting. Every bone in his body wanted to reject the offender but he found it impossible to gather such strength. For the first time, he felt abused.
A hand began to linger in his more sensitive areas and a scream was threatening to be released from the back of his throat. The muscles in his body began to tense and stiffen, Haldir felt that immediately.
He pulled away from the young elf and looked into his eyes, "Are you alright?"
Legolas eagerly nodded and in a panic wrapped him arms tightly around the tall elf and thrust his hips, a half-hearted attempt at his interest, "I don't know how I can show you how much I want this, it makes me nervous, Haldir. I have such strong feelings for you which I have never felt for anyone else. I need you, tonight." I'm lying! I'm lying! I hate you like the rest of them! I need you like I need to live… and right now I don't feel the need to live at all. A horrible notion of guilt arose in his throat at the thought of Elladan apologizing after their kiss, He cared about how I felt… so afraid to offend me and here I am. But, I must do this.
With a heavy thud, the prince found himself pinned to the floor. He cringed in pain as his head hit the rough stone particularly hard. Haldir was beginning to act rougher in his actions and it scared the prince even more. Again, he invaded his mouth; he kissed like Elrohir, as if he was going to asphyxiate him. The stars began to dance in his eye lids but before it was nearing late, he moved his mouth to other places.
The drizzle became harsher and stung when it mixed with the sweat accumulating on his brow. The bitter liquid ran down his face and over his lips- the taste as bitter as vinegar. The offending body on top of him began to ravage his flesh with his mouth and leave deep red impressions that scattered his once perfect skin. Every bite became blurred with every lick became blurred with every thrust became blurred with every scrape of his skin against the floor became blurred with every heart-wrenching kiss. And every single offense succeeded in emptying him more and more, as if life was draining from his very being. Against the blur he could faintly remember Elladan, he tried to reach out and grasp that fleeting memory but it, like everything else he had held dear in the past, became engulfed in the blur.
Elladan finally left the garden when he thought he saw the sun coming up over the hills. Sleep was beckoning him and his mind was starting to listen. In an hour or two it would be time to wake again. He felt horrible. His skin was clammy and the rain of the night had soaked him through and through. It seemed to come out of nowhere, the sky had been clear enough to watch the stars twinkle the night before. But sometimes, clouds can invade even the clearest night.
As he walked to his room, he realized he dreaded alone. He had experienced one of the most eventful nights in his life, to be left with the thoughts of it would surely only succeed in ensuring his insomnia. He passed his door with the intent of stopping at Elrohir's. Just about as he was going to open it, he felt a pang of guilt stop his fingers from rapping on the door. The conversation they had shared the night before was all too painful. He wasn't sure if this was the correct time to confront him about it, How could he say that he couldn't stand to look at me now? I'm his brother no matter what. Why does he always have to be so overprotective? I can make my own decisions. Just about as he was to walk away in defeat, the door opened.
Elrohir stood there, eyes red and dry, face swollen from crying. The robe he wore was old, stained, and torn from his days as an elfing; it barely fit his much stronger and broader form. Small cuts and bruises covered his arms and shoulder, his shoulders hung low to show exhaustion. His breaths were audible and labored; he coughed with disgust at the sickly action. Water dampened his robe and hair, but Elladan suspected the liquid in his hair was sweat, he reeked of it. After another troubling cough he shivered, it was doing him no good to be damp on this increasingly frigid dawn. His waifish form leaned lazily on the threshold and he sighed heavily as he watched his twin's feet turn towards him.
"Let me guess," the younger said dryly with a half-hearted laugh. "You couldn't sleep." Elrohir opened the door wider to reveal his room, completely torn apart. Elladan looked in with fright and questions forming on his face. "A million thoughts running through your mind, all taking up so much of your precious time…" Elladan walked closer to the threshold, but kept a safe distance from his brother. "I could feel you out here, afraid to knock. I can hear you think. I can see your scent. I can smell your sight. You don't even have to knock anymore, brother."
"I'll remember that," Elrohir mused and then yawned with much drowsiness.
"So, why are you here? Are your thoughts finally becoming a burden?"
"I need to sleep."
Elrohir raised an eyebrow, "What if I don't forgive you?"
Elladan sighed, "I don't know." A silence passed between them. Elladan's eyes fixed themselves on the floor; however, Elrohir still kept his eyes fixed on his brother's with much coyness.
"Well, I'll have you know that I still don't understand what you've done, and that causes me to withhold my forgiveness. But, maybe, I don't know either," Elrohir rubbed the back of his neck and inhaled deeply. "I'm tired too. So, we can still sleep in the same bed." Elladan put an arm around his brother's shoulders and led him to the bed. Elrohir rolled into the tangled sheet and his other half followed. Elladan languidly got under the sheet and draped an arm over the twin's waist. The other snuggled up to his brother and began to twirl his thin finger in his dark hair. Their long legs entwined in a careful, well-practiced fashion to fit perfectly together. Their breathing matched within seconds and Elrohir finally allowed himself to slip into the world of dreams.
Elladan examined the room before letting sleep take him. The wardrobe was turned over and beautiful silken robes were scattered and torn all over the floor. Water was leaking out of the bathroom thus creating puddles on the hand-woven carpets. Not one tapestry or framed work of art remained on the walls; they looked as if they had been hurled at the walls at amazing speeds. And the walls had small scratches and holes on them from the offending flying artwork. Elrohir's many books on history, language, politics, and elven prayer were strewn around the floors.
If Elladan was extremely surprised about anything it was about those books. Elrohir had loved books even before he could read: often looking at the many illustrations and trying to decipher the strange figures that were supposed to be words. Elrohir proved to be a very precocious elfling and had developed an expansive vocabulary before Elladan could even begin to form words. Galadriel had been extremely proud of her scholarly grandson and wished only to further his reading and knowledge of Arda: its geography, its people, its mathematics, its scientists, its medicines, its climate, its origins, its governments, its spiritual rulers, and anything else that occurred under its bright sun. The information seemed to firmly implant in the young elf's mind and could be drawn upon at any time after he first read it (since he only had to read things once.) Elrond couldn't have been prouder as well and even though the young elf only stood at 4 foot, he attended all councils and became a diplomat of Imaldris. He met many respected political figures and rulers of great nations and by these relations, he was able to build a quite an impressive resume and great respectability.
He also had a very strong connection to the Valar. Even though the elflings never spoke of his relationship with the great ethereal being, it was obvious in every facet of his character. It could be seen that the Valar greatly valued his merits and went out of his way to reward them. His days knew no tears or frustrations. A common colloquialism of that time to explain something in close proximity was, "It's nearer than the young twin to the Valar."
When he wasn't involved in such matters, he could be found constantly reading, trying to quench his always present thirst for information and understanding. For this, he lacked in areas most elves seemed to excel at, including archery, combat, and martial strategy. He was also a clumsy and a painfully shy lover and remained strictly prudent. Despite the many young elves who adored the grass his walked on, he could never return their advances or make his own without turning a deep shade of red and heading for the nearest exit. Even though his skills were greatly lacking, many wise elves had rumored that the Valar can only give a being so many gifts, and since the young elf had an abundance of gifts already, his less-than-desirable abilities were, nonetheless, eagerly overlooked.
Elrohir stirred in his sleep, biting his lower lip as he undoubtedly was dreaming of something horrid as always. Elladan drew him closer and hummed an old melody that their mother used to sing to lull them to sleep. Their mother… Elladan remembered the day well.
Elrohir shot the arrow into a tree, the lone orc escaped, "Elladan, I muffed!"
The brother watched as the orc disappeared into the tree line and scolded his twin, "Honestly, Elrohir, you can't continue to miss all these targets! Not only are you wasting arrows but also our time!"
"My sincerest apologies, my dear brother, I am able to attest that I will not quaver further," Elrohir hung the bow back on his quiver and ran to keep up with his brother.
"We just celebrated our coming of age and you can't even shoot a simple arrow straight, I wonder how you pull off being an elf sometimes," Elladan picked his bow back up as he heard an offending sound in the distance. "Ready yourself, brother."
Elrohir clumsily grasped his bow and readied an arrow, a high sound perked his ears, "Did you ears manage to auscultate that unnerving sonority?"
Elladan nodded, listening more closely, "It sounds like a female."
The sound again rang through their ears and louder, and more familiar, "Mother?" They ran towards the source, Elrohir lagging behind as always. They finally came upon a clearing and saw their mother in the hands of the orcs, blood covering her entire form. The orcs laughed when they heard her shrieks and increased their laughter when they laid their eyes on the young elves that had come.
Elladan began shooting furiously, he was excellent with a bow and took down many but still failed to kill the one orc that kept torturing their mother, "Elrohir! Aim at that one!"
Elrohir grew nervous at the sight of his brother almost losing to the orcs and his mother losing her strength to them as well. It was the same orc that he had missed earlier, the one he let get away. With a scared determination, he tried to steady his bow but it was unsteady in his shaking hands. In desperation he let the arrow fly, it flew into a bush. He tried again, the orcs movements became harsher his mother's cries louder, the bow found its home in a tree. As he kept shooting, he found that not one arrow was finding its mark. His mother screamed his name, begged him to try harder, begged him to save her, begged him to make the disgusting orc stop digging into her skin, and all he could do was shoot wayward arrows. In a furious progression, he had emptied his quiver… he was left defenseless. The sad son watched hopelessly as his mother suffered more stabs by the orc's blade. With every yelp, his heart fell deeper into the pit of what was left of his soul.
Elladan took down the last orc that had been assaulting him and headed towards the last orc who tortured his mother. With one shot, the orc screamed in pain and easily found death. Elladan instantly attended to his mother, the most recent stab marks had been the worse.
His mother looked to him and said, "Elrohir, why didn't you stop them?" Elrohir hadn't moved, his form remained still, his eyes fixed on his mother's fresh wounds.
"Please, keep silent, Nana, these wounds could be the death of you!" Elladan quickly went to work, putting forth all that he had learned about healing from his father. He almost sobbed, "If only we could've reached you sooner, Nana."
A year after the incident, Nana had left for the undying lands alone. Needless to say, an incredible amount of pain invaded their hearts. But guilt also accompanied pain in its travel and inhabitance of Elrohir's heart. They ate away at his heart and he began to change after that. Slowly, he started to morph into something he never was: his strengths became his weaknesses and his weaknesses became his strengths. The progression was slow and still hadn't taken its final result, but everyday meant one step closer to it.
He began to train under the careful eye of Haldir, plan battle strategies with him, court various other elves. His vocabulary became simpler with every passing day. He stopped attending council meetings and scarcely traveled outside the border of Imaldris to see anyone. The only people he confided to (and eventually the only people he talked to) were his beloved brother and Haldir. Even his own father had no place in his heart which was broken without warning and hastily put back together with all sorts of errors. And then there were the books, the only physical reminders of the celebrated scholar and diplomat Elrohir Peredhil, son of Lord Elrond: a name that would hopefully remain in exaltation.
Elladan let an empathetic kiss fall on his brother's brow which was knotted in fear from his horrifying dreams, "Stop suffering, Elrohir. I know you're capable of so much more." For a brief moment he wondered if Elrohir still knew all that he had learned from the thousands of books he had read. He wondered if he remembered the personalities and preferences of the different leaders of Arda. He wondered if the Valar would try to contact him every once in a while, and if the Valar did, did Elrohir listen and respond? But most of all, he wondered if Elrohir remembered the great elf he used to be. However, there were many questions that would be unanswered this dawn. The fore-mentioned elf twisted in his sleep and wrapped his arms around his older brother. Elladan rested his own head in the crook of his twin's neck and let sleep take over his body as well. Enough thoughts were had that day.
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