And here is part 2. Enjoy. :-)
Melethron – beloved/lover (m)
'Part 2'
And so it came to pass that Haldir found himself working with Elladan to match-make Thranduil and Glorfindel all in the name of letting Legolas and Elrohir get laid in peace. He couldn't even begin to tabulate the number of objectionable things in that scenario. Unfortunately, Legolas had a way of convincing you to aid him even when you really, really didn't want to. Haldir had come to believe in recent years that he was finally becoming immune to this effect. He now suspected he might possible have been deluding himself.
"Elladan," he said. "Why are we doing this?"
Elladan scanned the tree, looking for the best way up. "Because we agreed we would."
"Why did we do that?" Haldir asked, following his gaze.
"Blackmail," Elladan said succinctly. He heaved his bag onto his back again. "Now come on, we have work to do."
The two elves scaled the tall tree as befitted a Galadhrim and one who had spent much of his minority hiding up trees. They pulled their heavy packs up onto the balcony and did a quick survey of the room.
"Secure the perimeter," Haldir ordered, for one blissful moment forgetting where he was and what he was doing.
"Oh, yes sir!" Elladan said, rolling his eyes and giving Haldir a mock salute. Nevertheless, he did walk over and lock the door, which Haldir felt inordinately pleased about.
"You do the bed, I'll do the candles," Elladan said, dumping his bag on the floor and opening it to reveal about three dozen elegantly tapered scented candles.
Haldir opened his own bag and frowned at the pile of black satin. All this effort and he wasn't even going to enjoy the benefits.
"Why do the sheets have to be black?"
"They're both blond, it'll be a nice contrast."
His frown deepened. "Blue would be better."
Elladan paused in juggling three chunky white candles, catching them neatly as he raised an eyebrow at Haldir. "So sorry to offend your aesthetic sensibilities," he said sarcastically. "You're not the one who had to get a hold of them. It's not easy to explain why all this junk is needed for what is supposed to be a much-needed diplomatic exercise."
Haldir smirked. "As opposed to some much-needed exercise between diplomats."
Elladan looked slightly taken aback at the Lorien elf's uncharacteristic jest, but then grinned broadly. "Exactly," he said.
Haldir made up the bed with military efficiency, every crease smoothed. Elladan then insisted on roughing things up and strewing flower petals everywhere.
"This is supposed to get them in the mood for romance, not a strategy meeting," Elladan said, when Haldir objected. "Thank Eru one of us knows how to do this."
No doubt as Elladan had intended, Haldir was most affronted by this and objected vehemently while Elladan lit the candles and put the finishing touches to the room.
"Stunning," he finally pronounced.
"Do you really think this will work?" Haldir asked, eyeing their handiwork sceptically.
Elladan shrugged. "Hard to say. Could go either way. Depends how far Glory comes unglued."
He laughed at Haldir's confused expression. "Glorfindel has this nice idea that when Thranduil's around he stays just as cool and calm as usual and never gives even the slightest hint that he's interested. No one's yet found the nerve to tell him that he blushes worse than a maiden at her initiation the second Thranduil comes into his sight."
"So this might actually work?" Haldir said in surprise.
"I certainly hope so," Elladan replied, grinning wolfishly. "Our Glory and the Mirkwood king - the possibilities for mischief are endless. Plus with Thranduil distracted, Lego and Ro might start using Legolas' bedroom instead of ours. I know we share practically everything, but ai! Even I have limits. That's one thing I do *not* want to see my brother doing."
Judging by Haldir's look of distaste, he didn't much want to see it either.
***
While his composure, reputation and general masculinity were being called into question by one who was little more than a spoilt elfling with an overly well-known father, Glorfindel was reliving the days when he had been much the same. Until this moment he'd never imagined that the very well matured king of Eryn Lasgalen was capable of being so juvenile.
Thranduil held the innocent-looking bottle up to the light. The liquid inside gleamed along with his eyes. "A few drops of this in any bottle of wine and even the stately Lord Elrond would be humping his way through the inhabitants of Imladris."
It was on the tip of Glorfindel's tongue to say that Elrond really didn't need any encouragement in that department, but he held his peace. After all, he was still Elrond's seneschal and to reveal even a fraction of his vast mental store of blackmail material could alter the balance of power between Rivendell and Greenwood for centuries to come.
Of course, in the last few days he'd already amassed quite a bit of information about Thranduil's . . . habits . . . that the peredhil would move fire and ice to know about.
"Legolas is always with one of them. No doubt he will invite his flavour of the hour in for a quick glass of wine to round off the evening and then . . . " Thranduil chuckled, ". . . the Magic of Mirkwood will take care of the rest."
"What if he invites them both in?" Glorfindel enquired, trying valiantly not to picture it.
The corners of Thranduil's sensuous mouth curved upwards in a captivating smile. "I have faith in my son's ability to handle such a situation," was his uninformative answer.
And to think, Glorfindel thought, I used to wonder where Legolas got this from.
"So let us attend to business and then we can go enjoy the fruits of my son's labours."
Glorfindel gave him a questioning look and Thranduil's smile widened.
"They have been preparing my chambers for this evening, apparently under the illusion that I would require some assistance to get you in the mood." Thranduil paused. "Quite mistaken, wouldn't you say?"
The air temperature in the immediate vicinity suddenly shot up like one of Mithrandir's fireworks as a practised hand began to delve inside Glorfindel's robes.
"Aye," he managed, before he lost all semblance of coherency. "Quite mistaken."
***
"I still think this attempt is utterly futile," Haldir said, as he and Legolas walked down the hallway together. "They are both warriors of great experience and renown. Glorfindel has slain a Balrog, Thranduil has raised you. A few candles and a pot of massage oil within easy reach will not change their intentions towards each other.
"Noooo," Legolas said, smirking and suddenly looking every inch his father's son. "But with a little Mirkwood Magic in the wine . . ."
Oh Valar, anything but that.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Haldir hissed, as he followed Legolas into his chambers. "It may work tonight, but tomorrow Thranduil or Glorfindel – and probably both – will chase you down and castrate you with your own knives."
"Only if they are still capable of walking. And with that much Magic inside them, that's highly unlikely."
Haldir winced at the image this evoked.
He tried another tack.
"Mellon-nin, I am only saying this because it is in your best interests. This is a very big risk for a relatively tiny gain and if nothing else logic dictates that . . ."
"Wine, Haldir?"
"I am not whining," Haldir objected, then registered the bottle Legolas was holding up. "Oh, I see. No, thank you. Now, as I was saying . . ."
Haldir continued with his foolproof argument while Legolas poured himself a glass of wine, until he realised that his friend a) was not listening and b) had not the slightest intention of abandoning his suicidal plan.
Then he wondered why he had even bothered. The moment he set foot back in Mirkwood, Legolas became Prince Legolas. And trying to talk sense into Prince Legolas was like trying to convince one of Elrond twins of the merits of celibacy.
"Mmm," Legolas said, a thoughtful expression on his face as he poured himself another glass of wine. "A particularly good brew, if I am any judge. Are you sure I can't tempt you, Haldir?"
"No, thank you. I find your brews a little too . . . robust."
Which is to say that one glass made him feel like a visit to the Halls of Mandos was imminent.
"I don't think you should worry yourself," Legolas was saying. "I have a good feeling about this. And even of it doesn't go quite to plan, there is always plan A."
Plan A? Now what was plan A? Oh yes. Oh no . . .
"Which I think," Legolas said, setting down his wineglass and trailing a hand lightly down Haldir's arm, "could prove . . . enjoyable."
Haldir tried very hard to convince himself that this was in fact *not* happening and the way Legolas was moving towards him was entirely consistent with them being Just Good Friends.
Then he felt Legolas' hand somewhere where, as far as he was concerned, no male's hand should ever, ever go.
He bolted away, emitting a squeak that in no way made him sound like a frightened maiden. He let out a small involuntary sigh of relief, until he registered that he had in fact backed up against the door. The door which opened inwards. And Legolas was coming towards him again. He was trapped.
"Legolas," Haldir said through his rising panic, having to employ all his skills to bat away his friend's hands – he seemed to have acquired half a dozen extra pairs in the last minute, "what are you doing? What about Elrohir?"
Legolas stopped. Valar be praised!
"True," Legolas said. Then he bent his head and started to nuzzle Haldir's neck. "We should really find him. I'm sure he'd love to join in."
Haldir's previously dormant self-preservation instincts kicked in. Unfortunately, they kicked a little too hard. What he intended to do was gently push Legolas far enough from the door to enable him to escape. What he did was hurl him clear across the room.
Somebody in Mandos' Halls clearly wanted to punish him, because Legolas landed square in the middle of the bed. On his back. Hair fanning out against the pillows in a golden halo.
Legolas pushed himself up on an elbow and gave Haldir a flirtatious wink.
"On the other hand," he said. "Maybe I would prefer to keep you all to myself."
For a split second, Haldir stared at the picture he had somehow managed to create in abject disbelief. Then he spun around, wrenched open the door and ran.
Behind him, he heard Legolas. Using a seductive tone Haldir had not imagined being directed at him even in his most twisted nightmares.
"I'm coming for you, melethron . . ."
Melethron – beloved/lover (m)
'Part 2'
And so it came to pass that Haldir found himself working with Elladan to match-make Thranduil and Glorfindel all in the name of letting Legolas and Elrohir get laid in peace. He couldn't even begin to tabulate the number of objectionable things in that scenario. Unfortunately, Legolas had a way of convincing you to aid him even when you really, really didn't want to. Haldir had come to believe in recent years that he was finally becoming immune to this effect. He now suspected he might possible have been deluding himself.
"Elladan," he said. "Why are we doing this?"
Elladan scanned the tree, looking for the best way up. "Because we agreed we would."
"Why did we do that?" Haldir asked, following his gaze.
"Blackmail," Elladan said succinctly. He heaved his bag onto his back again. "Now come on, we have work to do."
The two elves scaled the tall tree as befitted a Galadhrim and one who had spent much of his minority hiding up trees. They pulled their heavy packs up onto the balcony and did a quick survey of the room.
"Secure the perimeter," Haldir ordered, for one blissful moment forgetting where he was and what he was doing.
"Oh, yes sir!" Elladan said, rolling his eyes and giving Haldir a mock salute. Nevertheless, he did walk over and lock the door, which Haldir felt inordinately pleased about.
"You do the bed, I'll do the candles," Elladan said, dumping his bag on the floor and opening it to reveal about three dozen elegantly tapered scented candles.
Haldir opened his own bag and frowned at the pile of black satin. All this effort and he wasn't even going to enjoy the benefits.
"Why do the sheets have to be black?"
"They're both blond, it'll be a nice contrast."
His frown deepened. "Blue would be better."
Elladan paused in juggling three chunky white candles, catching them neatly as he raised an eyebrow at Haldir. "So sorry to offend your aesthetic sensibilities," he said sarcastically. "You're not the one who had to get a hold of them. It's not easy to explain why all this junk is needed for what is supposed to be a much-needed diplomatic exercise."
Haldir smirked. "As opposed to some much-needed exercise between diplomats."
Elladan looked slightly taken aback at the Lorien elf's uncharacteristic jest, but then grinned broadly. "Exactly," he said.
Haldir made up the bed with military efficiency, every crease smoothed. Elladan then insisted on roughing things up and strewing flower petals everywhere.
"This is supposed to get them in the mood for romance, not a strategy meeting," Elladan said, when Haldir objected. "Thank Eru one of us knows how to do this."
No doubt as Elladan had intended, Haldir was most affronted by this and objected vehemently while Elladan lit the candles and put the finishing touches to the room.
"Stunning," he finally pronounced.
"Do you really think this will work?" Haldir asked, eyeing their handiwork sceptically.
Elladan shrugged. "Hard to say. Could go either way. Depends how far Glory comes unglued."
He laughed at Haldir's confused expression. "Glorfindel has this nice idea that when Thranduil's around he stays just as cool and calm as usual and never gives even the slightest hint that he's interested. No one's yet found the nerve to tell him that he blushes worse than a maiden at her initiation the second Thranduil comes into his sight."
"So this might actually work?" Haldir said in surprise.
"I certainly hope so," Elladan replied, grinning wolfishly. "Our Glory and the Mirkwood king - the possibilities for mischief are endless. Plus with Thranduil distracted, Lego and Ro might start using Legolas' bedroom instead of ours. I know we share practically everything, but ai! Even I have limits. That's one thing I do *not* want to see my brother doing."
Judging by Haldir's look of distaste, he didn't much want to see it either.
***
While his composure, reputation and general masculinity were being called into question by one who was little more than a spoilt elfling with an overly well-known father, Glorfindel was reliving the days when he had been much the same. Until this moment he'd never imagined that the very well matured king of Eryn Lasgalen was capable of being so juvenile.
Thranduil held the innocent-looking bottle up to the light. The liquid inside gleamed along with his eyes. "A few drops of this in any bottle of wine and even the stately Lord Elrond would be humping his way through the inhabitants of Imladris."
It was on the tip of Glorfindel's tongue to say that Elrond really didn't need any encouragement in that department, but he held his peace. After all, he was still Elrond's seneschal and to reveal even a fraction of his vast mental store of blackmail material could alter the balance of power between Rivendell and Greenwood for centuries to come.
Of course, in the last few days he'd already amassed quite a bit of information about Thranduil's . . . habits . . . that the peredhil would move fire and ice to know about.
"Legolas is always with one of them. No doubt he will invite his flavour of the hour in for a quick glass of wine to round off the evening and then . . . " Thranduil chuckled, ". . . the Magic of Mirkwood will take care of the rest."
"What if he invites them both in?" Glorfindel enquired, trying valiantly not to picture it.
The corners of Thranduil's sensuous mouth curved upwards in a captivating smile. "I have faith in my son's ability to handle such a situation," was his uninformative answer.
And to think, Glorfindel thought, I used to wonder where Legolas got this from.
"So let us attend to business and then we can go enjoy the fruits of my son's labours."
Glorfindel gave him a questioning look and Thranduil's smile widened.
"They have been preparing my chambers for this evening, apparently under the illusion that I would require some assistance to get you in the mood." Thranduil paused. "Quite mistaken, wouldn't you say?"
The air temperature in the immediate vicinity suddenly shot up like one of Mithrandir's fireworks as a practised hand began to delve inside Glorfindel's robes.
"Aye," he managed, before he lost all semblance of coherency. "Quite mistaken."
***
"I still think this attempt is utterly futile," Haldir said, as he and Legolas walked down the hallway together. "They are both warriors of great experience and renown. Glorfindel has slain a Balrog, Thranduil has raised you. A few candles and a pot of massage oil within easy reach will not change their intentions towards each other.
"Noooo," Legolas said, smirking and suddenly looking every inch his father's son. "But with a little Mirkwood Magic in the wine . . ."
Oh Valar, anything but that.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Haldir hissed, as he followed Legolas into his chambers. "It may work tonight, but tomorrow Thranduil or Glorfindel – and probably both – will chase you down and castrate you with your own knives."
"Only if they are still capable of walking. And with that much Magic inside them, that's highly unlikely."
Haldir winced at the image this evoked.
He tried another tack.
"Mellon-nin, I am only saying this because it is in your best interests. This is a very big risk for a relatively tiny gain and if nothing else logic dictates that . . ."
"Wine, Haldir?"
"I am not whining," Haldir objected, then registered the bottle Legolas was holding up. "Oh, I see. No, thank you. Now, as I was saying . . ."
Haldir continued with his foolproof argument while Legolas poured himself a glass of wine, until he realised that his friend a) was not listening and b) had not the slightest intention of abandoning his suicidal plan.
Then he wondered why he had even bothered. The moment he set foot back in Mirkwood, Legolas became Prince Legolas. And trying to talk sense into Prince Legolas was like trying to convince one of Elrond twins of the merits of celibacy.
"Mmm," Legolas said, a thoughtful expression on his face as he poured himself another glass of wine. "A particularly good brew, if I am any judge. Are you sure I can't tempt you, Haldir?"
"No, thank you. I find your brews a little too . . . robust."
Which is to say that one glass made him feel like a visit to the Halls of Mandos was imminent.
"I don't think you should worry yourself," Legolas was saying. "I have a good feeling about this. And even of it doesn't go quite to plan, there is always plan A."
Plan A? Now what was plan A? Oh yes. Oh no . . .
"Which I think," Legolas said, setting down his wineglass and trailing a hand lightly down Haldir's arm, "could prove . . . enjoyable."
Haldir tried very hard to convince himself that this was in fact *not* happening and the way Legolas was moving towards him was entirely consistent with them being Just Good Friends.
Then he felt Legolas' hand somewhere where, as far as he was concerned, no male's hand should ever, ever go.
He bolted away, emitting a squeak that in no way made him sound like a frightened maiden. He let out a small involuntary sigh of relief, until he registered that he had in fact backed up against the door. The door which opened inwards. And Legolas was coming towards him again. He was trapped.
"Legolas," Haldir said through his rising panic, having to employ all his skills to bat away his friend's hands – he seemed to have acquired half a dozen extra pairs in the last minute, "what are you doing? What about Elrohir?"
Legolas stopped. Valar be praised!
"True," Legolas said. Then he bent his head and started to nuzzle Haldir's neck. "We should really find him. I'm sure he'd love to join in."
Haldir's previously dormant self-preservation instincts kicked in. Unfortunately, they kicked a little too hard. What he intended to do was gently push Legolas far enough from the door to enable him to escape. What he did was hurl him clear across the room.
Somebody in Mandos' Halls clearly wanted to punish him, because Legolas landed square in the middle of the bed. On his back. Hair fanning out against the pillows in a golden halo.
Legolas pushed himself up on an elbow and gave Haldir a flirtatious wink.
"On the other hand," he said. "Maybe I would prefer to keep you all to myself."
For a split second, Haldir stared at the picture he had somehow managed to create in abject disbelief. Then he spun around, wrenched open the door and ran.
Behind him, he heard Legolas. Using a seductive tone Haldir had not imagined being directed at him even in his most twisted nightmares.
"I'm coming for you, melethron . . ."
