I'm pulling Haldir off the bench and putting him into the game. If this
will bother anyone, please feel free to leave the stadium.
Thanks all for the wonderful reviews! More coming (story that is, although hopefully reviews too). ;-) Five is written, six coming.
'Part 4'
Haldir had a suspicion. This was not uncommon, in fact there was rarely a time when he didn't, but it was of a new variety.
He was quite familiar with the Evil Is Coming suspicion, usually preceding the discovery of something unspeakable under his bedcovers. (He, naturally, had outgrown such childish pranks several millennia ago. The overgrown elflings he was lumbered with for brothers apparently had not). He was also becoming accustomed to the Is There Something I Should Know? suspicion, present whenever Lord Celeborn asked him to do anything that ultimately involved removing his shirt. (This had once been a rare, nay freak occurrence, but since the departure of the Lady of the Light for Valinor it had begun happening with alarming regularity). No, this was something different. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was a plot afoot and that, somehow, it involved him.
He did not feel that it was directly related to the actions of Legolas and Thranduil while under the influence of the Mirkwood Magic. Both had apologised speedily, eloquently and with great sincerity – although without the slightest hint that they had actually been in the wrong – and both seemed content with their respective . . . playmates. And yet Haldir was not foolish enough to believe that they were uninvolved. Where one found a conspiracy, a son of Oropher – indirectly or not – was never far away.
He had also gained the strange impression that this plot somehow involved Elladan as a fellow victim. Which had led to him sharing his suspicions with the said Peredhil. Which had brought him to this supremely disturbing moment.
"Legolas wants me to take you to bed," Elladan told him matter-of-factly, when Haldir had outlined the situation. "He thinks your horizons need broadening."
Strangely enough, Haldir could not immediately think of a suitable response to that.
"I told him you weren't interested," Elladan added helpfully, as the silence grew deafening.
Haldir cleared his throat. "And . . . what did he say to that?" he said, almost afraid to ask.
Elladan sat up, having been lazily sprawled in one of the easy chairs in Haldir's guest quarters. He proceeded to toss his hair over his shoulder, cock his head and deliver an imitation of Legolas that was really rather good.
"Well use your skills and *make* him interested," he purred. "You know you want to."
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want to?"
"Of course," Elladan said cheerfully, settling himself back down again and folding his arms behind his head. "Thranduil's right, you know, you're really quite attractive. I've had worse in my bed."
Haldir bristled and retorted that, from what he'd heard, the sons of Elrond would have orcs in their bed so long as they could be on top.
To his surprise, rather than insult him back Elladan stiffened, the smile disappearing from his face. "That's not funny," he muttered.
Whereupon Haldir remembered the fate the twins' mother had suffered and apologised awkwardly. He briefly considered trying to do something to take Elladan's mind off the memories, but everything his imagination threw up suggested to him that he'd been spending too much time with Legolas.
"So, as I was saying," Elladan said, mercifully changing the subject and returning to his previous chirpy demeanour. "Legolas thinks I should try to seduce you, despite this odd idea you have that you're not interested in males . . . "
"It is *not* an odd idea."
"Of course it is. Even if your preference is for maids, how can you really appreciate silk if you haven't tried leather? Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, as far as I can see there are three possible results to this would-be seduction. One, I succeed spectacularly. Two, I fail spectacularly. Three, I fail but make them think I've succeeded."
"Two," Haldir said firmly.
Elladan chuckled. "Oh my poor, naïve Haldir. Have you not realised after centuries of friendship with Legolas that once he gets an idea into his head it is impossible to shift? That my brother, with all his considerable talents in this area, is now his willing slave? He will not accept defeat in this and the sooner you at least pretend to yield to the inevitable, the better."
"I," Haldir said resolutely, drawing himself up to his not inconsiderable height, "do *not* yield. Ever."
"You don't know what you're missing."
"And I am quite content with that state of affairs," Haldir snapped. "I have no intention of either allowing myself to be seduced by you or pretending so, and that is my final decision."
It seemed an appropriate juncture to stalk out. So he did.
Once outside the door, he remembered that this was, in fact, his room.
Then he felt rather foolish.
So he headed off in search of a certain golden-haired archer. With every intention of causing significant damage to his most prized arrow.
***
As it was, the prince and king of Eryn Lasgalen were doing the closest they came to father-son bonding.
"So how is Elrohir?" Thranduil enquired, having now been granted a fair run- down.
Legolas' eyes gleamed over the top of his wineglass. He took a sip and slowly ran his tongue across his lips.
"Delicious," he pronounced wickedly. "How is Glorfindel?"
"That is not for you to ask," Thranduil told him sternly.
"No," Legolas agreed, sensing that his father was in one of his rare permissive moods. "But I should like to know all the same."
Thranduil appeared to consider this, filling the gap with another mouthful of wine, which he swirled thoughtfully around his mouth. "He is . . . deserving of his reputation," he said finally, his tone betraying approval and nothing more.
Legolas, who had spent too much of his youth hanging around Imladris not to have heard what that reputation was – in startling detail – felt a stab of almost fatherly pride at his supposed role in bringing them together.
"So, you are not disappointed that I did not choose Haldir?" he enquired, somewhat hesitantly.
Thranduil snorted. "Lorien will soon all but pass into legend. Rivendell will follow, true, but Elrond's hellions will have influence as long as they walk on Arda. Elrohir is a match for your station – or as close as is available. A match with that Galadhel would only benefit him – although doubtless you would influence him for the better."
Legolas, who up to this point had believed that his father considered him to be an amoral corrupter of youth (as did the entire populations of Eryn Lasgalen, Rivendell and Lorien – much to his pride) was quite surprised, and a little worried, by this pronouncement.
Thranduil's sharp eyes caught the flicker of doubt in his son's. "And I use the word 'better' in its loosest possible terms," he added. "But I have never understood your fondness for that elf. He is so . . . "
"Straight?" Legolas suggested.
"Unnaturally so. He behaves as though someone has inserted a large pole right up his backside and neglected to remove it."
Legolas grinned. "In fact, just the opposite is true," he said, "and it would be well if someone did. But Elladan is taking care of that."
Thranduil deigned to look interested. "A Peredhil against a Galadhel," he said thoughtfully. "That would be an interesting match to watch."
"It would," Legolas agreed, brightening at the idea. "I wonder if Elladan would let us . . . "
***
Haldir returned to his room some two hours later having tried, and failed, to locate Legolas. His rage over the situation had not been satisfied and now here he was, all worked up and nothing to kill.
And it was in this mood that he found the irritating Peredhil still present in his bedchamber, standing only a few steps away.
"What are you still doing here?" he demanded irritably, debating with himself over whether Elrond would strongly object to losing a son.
"I am doing what I was sent here to do," Elladan told him.
Before Haldir could process this, Elladan had closed the gap between them and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss. A moment later, the momentum caused Haldir's back to slam against the heavy oak door. It probably should have hurt more than it seemed to.
It wasn't really all that different to kissing a female, except for the sheer raw power of the body he was making a futile – and somehow rather half-hearted – attempt to push away. A thrill he hadn't felt since his first romantic adventures millennia before ran through his treacherous body and then coherent thought ceased.
He managed to utter only a moan of protest when suddenly the mouth wasn't there anymore.
"I'm seducing you," Elladan finished, and kissed him again.
Why exactly had he thought this was a bad thing?
Thanks all for the wonderful reviews! More coming (story that is, although hopefully reviews too). ;-) Five is written, six coming.
'Part 4'
Haldir had a suspicion. This was not uncommon, in fact there was rarely a time when he didn't, but it was of a new variety.
He was quite familiar with the Evil Is Coming suspicion, usually preceding the discovery of something unspeakable under his bedcovers. (He, naturally, had outgrown such childish pranks several millennia ago. The overgrown elflings he was lumbered with for brothers apparently had not). He was also becoming accustomed to the Is There Something I Should Know? suspicion, present whenever Lord Celeborn asked him to do anything that ultimately involved removing his shirt. (This had once been a rare, nay freak occurrence, but since the departure of the Lady of the Light for Valinor it had begun happening with alarming regularity). No, this was something different. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was a plot afoot and that, somehow, it involved him.
He did not feel that it was directly related to the actions of Legolas and Thranduil while under the influence of the Mirkwood Magic. Both had apologised speedily, eloquently and with great sincerity – although without the slightest hint that they had actually been in the wrong – and both seemed content with their respective . . . playmates. And yet Haldir was not foolish enough to believe that they were uninvolved. Where one found a conspiracy, a son of Oropher – indirectly or not – was never far away.
He had also gained the strange impression that this plot somehow involved Elladan as a fellow victim. Which had led to him sharing his suspicions with the said Peredhil. Which had brought him to this supremely disturbing moment.
"Legolas wants me to take you to bed," Elladan told him matter-of-factly, when Haldir had outlined the situation. "He thinks your horizons need broadening."
Strangely enough, Haldir could not immediately think of a suitable response to that.
"I told him you weren't interested," Elladan added helpfully, as the silence grew deafening.
Haldir cleared his throat. "And . . . what did he say to that?" he said, almost afraid to ask.
Elladan sat up, having been lazily sprawled in one of the easy chairs in Haldir's guest quarters. He proceeded to toss his hair over his shoulder, cock his head and deliver an imitation of Legolas that was really rather good.
"Well use your skills and *make* him interested," he purred. "You know you want to."
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want to?"
"Of course," Elladan said cheerfully, settling himself back down again and folding his arms behind his head. "Thranduil's right, you know, you're really quite attractive. I've had worse in my bed."
Haldir bristled and retorted that, from what he'd heard, the sons of Elrond would have orcs in their bed so long as they could be on top.
To his surprise, rather than insult him back Elladan stiffened, the smile disappearing from his face. "That's not funny," he muttered.
Whereupon Haldir remembered the fate the twins' mother had suffered and apologised awkwardly. He briefly considered trying to do something to take Elladan's mind off the memories, but everything his imagination threw up suggested to him that he'd been spending too much time with Legolas.
"So, as I was saying," Elladan said, mercifully changing the subject and returning to his previous chirpy demeanour. "Legolas thinks I should try to seduce you, despite this odd idea you have that you're not interested in males . . . "
"It is *not* an odd idea."
"Of course it is. Even if your preference is for maids, how can you really appreciate silk if you haven't tried leather? Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, as far as I can see there are three possible results to this would-be seduction. One, I succeed spectacularly. Two, I fail spectacularly. Three, I fail but make them think I've succeeded."
"Two," Haldir said firmly.
Elladan chuckled. "Oh my poor, naïve Haldir. Have you not realised after centuries of friendship with Legolas that once he gets an idea into his head it is impossible to shift? That my brother, with all his considerable talents in this area, is now his willing slave? He will not accept defeat in this and the sooner you at least pretend to yield to the inevitable, the better."
"I," Haldir said resolutely, drawing himself up to his not inconsiderable height, "do *not* yield. Ever."
"You don't know what you're missing."
"And I am quite content with that state of affairs," Haldir snapped. "I have no intention of either allowing myself to be seduced by you or pretending so, and that is my final decision."
It seemed an appropriate juncture to stalk out. So he did.
Once outside the door, he remembered that this was, in fact, his room.
Then he felt rather foolish.
So he headed off in search of a certain golden-haired archer. With every intention of causing significant damage to his most prized arrow.
***
As it was, the prince and king of Eryn Lasgalen were doing the closest they came to father-son bonding.
"So how is Elrohir?" Thranduil enquired, having now been granted a fair run- down.
Legolas' eyes gleamed over the top of his wineglass. He took a sip and slowly ran his tongue across his lips.
"Delicious," he pronounced wickedly. "How is Glorfindel?"
"That is not for you to ask," Thranduil told him sternly.
"No," Legolas agreed, sensing that his father was in one of his rare permissive moods. "But I should like to know all the same."
Thranduil appeared to consider this, filling the gap with another mouthful of wine, which he swirled thoughtfully around his mouth. "He is . . . deserving of his reputation," he said finally, his tone betraying approval and nothing more.
Legolas, who had spent too much of his youth hanging around Imladris not to have heard what that reputation was – in startling detail – felt a stab of almost fatherly pride at his supposed role in bringing them together.
"So, you are not disappointed that I did not choose Haldir?" he enquired, somewhat hesitantly.
Thranduil snorted. "Lorien will soon all but pass into legend. Rivendell will follow, true, but Elrond's hellions will have influence as long as they walk on Arda. Elrohir is a match for your station – or as close as is available. A match with that Galadhel would only benefit him – although doubtless you would influence him for the better."
Legolas, who up to this point had believed that his father considered him to be an amoral corrupter of youth (as did the entire populations of Eryn Lasgalen, Rivendell and Lorien – much to his pride) was quite surprised, and a little worried, by this pronouncement.
Thranduil's sharp eyes caught the flicker of doubt in his son's. "And I use the word 'better' in its loosest possible terms," he added. "But I have never understood your fondness for that elf. He is so . . . "
"Straight?" Legolas suggested.
"Unnaturally so. He behaves as though someone has inserted a large pole right up his backside and neglected to remove it."
Legolas grinned. "In fact, just the opposite is true," he said, "and it would be well if someone did. But Elladan is taking care of that."
Thranduil deigned to look interested. "A Peredhil against a Galadhel," he said thoughtfully. "That would be an interesting match to watch."
"It would," Legolas agreed, brightening at the idea. "I wonder if Elladan would let us . . . "
***
Haldir returned to his room some two hours later having tried, and failed, to locate Legolas. His rage over the situation had not been satisfied and now here he was, all worked up and nothing to kill.
And it was in this mood that he found the irritating Peredhil still present in his bedchamber, standing only a few steps away.
"What are you still doing here?" he demanded irritably, debating with himself over whether Elrond would strongly object to losing a son.
"I am doing what I was sent here to do," Elladan told him.
Before Haldir could process this, Elladan had closed the gap between them and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss. A moment later, the momentum caused Haldir's back to slam against the heavy oak door. It probably should have hurt more than it seemed to.
It wasn't really all that different to kissing a female, except for the sheer raw power of the body he was making a futile – and somehow rather half-hearted – attempt to push away. A thrill he hadn't felt since his first romantic adventures millennia before ran through his treacherous body and then coherent thought ceased.
He managed to utter only a moan of protest when suddenly the mouth wasn't there anymore.
"I'm seducing you," Elladan finished, and kissed him again.
Why exactly had he thought this was a bad thing?
