Nestaron ar Maethor Healer and Warrior Chapter 5, a lord of the rings fanfic

Chapter 5 - In the House of Healing

Elrond sighed as he rose from the bedside of the human child, a young girl of nine summers, so said her mother, and named for that season in the elven tongue: Laer. She had brassy locks and a freckled nose and frightened green eyes.

Laer was doing her very best to be brave in the face of pain and illness to spare her mother more worry and sorrow, for the family, once complete with two parents and a second child, now consisted of only mother and daughter. Laer didn't complain when her bandages were changed and another layer of decaying flesh was removed from the festering burn running the length of her calf. She took whatever medicine the elves brought with a smile of thanks and tried to eat when her mother exhorted her to do so.

The elven healer smiled down at her with admiration and kindness; those who imagined the Second-born to be weak and failing obviously had never met a human like Laer. The little girl was truly beautiful in the way of all children, even though body and spirit were marred by terror and agony, her features strained by long suffering so that years not yet lived had been added to her innocent eyes.

Elrond was determined that she would survive and was going beyond the normal means to ensure it, subtly employing the power of Vilya to grant the child strength and fortitude, for the healing process would be lengthy and excruciating. Laer would be his patient for many months to come, but no matter; she would sing and laugh and play again. Before that day, however, Laer was going to lose most of her left leg.

He had told her and the child had borne the news calmly and with a kind of relief, for she instinctively knew the diseased limb was quickly infecting the rest of her being.

"That's all right," she said with a tired smile. "Will it be soon? The quicker it's gone the faster I'll heal up," Laer added, sounding more like a consulting healer than an ailing patient.

"Aye, I think tomorrow we must proceed for the infection is spreading more rapidly now. I will give you a strong sleeping potion so you will not have to feel any pain. The leg will be very sore when you wake up, though, so we will have to add those bad tasting herbs to your wine for a time," the noble Lord confided, his admiration for this little girl growing by the second.

"Oh, then you shall have to make it up to me with lovely sweets when I am better, won't you," Laer demanded.

"I shall indeed, penneth," agreed Elrond gravely. "I would like you to take a sleeping potion tonight as well, for your body needs as much strength as can be conserved for the stress it must endure tomorrow."

"I suppose so," the child sighed with resignation. "Will you give one to Mama, too? And better not to say anything about the new treatment, either. She will become very upset and cry and say silly things about dancing at weddings and such."

"Nay, I cannot keep this news from her, but I will wait until you are sleeping before I tell her. Once she understands it will be well; you will see," soothed Elrond as he prepared the drug and helped the girl drink it down. Then he sat beside her on the edge of the cot and held her hand, singing softly until she was fast asleep.

With a sigh he rose and turned, his gaze sweeping the crowded ward. The storm had passed and Elrond was certain the dragon was no more, even though no news had returned from Glorfindel as yet. Moonlight bathed the peaceful room; its cool, sedating gleam spilling in from the open archways to highlight white coverlets and smoothly polished pine wood floors. The soft comfort of a light breeze kept the air in the packed space fresh, carrying the scent of rain-washed earth inside.

It was quiet but for the chorus of frogs rejoicing in drenched jubilation and the subdued friction of leaf brushing leaf in the fragrant zephyrs. That and the subtle, soporific percussion of remnant rainwater gathering into droplets on the veranda's eaves and the tips of leaves, there to lose purchase and slip away, splashing into puddles pooled upon the ground. The deluge was done; the fear expunged, elements balanced, and harmony supplanted tension. This was a place of healing and Elrond was pleased, after hours of desperate struggle to preserve life, to sense that healing was commencing at last. He was confident that those sleeping would awaken in the morn.

His patients rested within the serenity of Vilya's protection, drifting not through memory's nocturnal reservoir but amid visions of majesty and peace they would not be permitted to recall once night gave way to returning day. They slumbered, unaware of the aides watching over their repose, unconscious of the sub-audible caress of elven song that barred the chilling scenes fraught with fire and pain and anxious dread. In reverie they wandered, floating in the gentle embrace of Iluvatar's Song, sharing for a few hours an elysian paradise wherein two beings of exquisite beauty and kindness tended them with compassion and sympathy. It was an experience never to be reproduced once health and vitality returned and one they would not remember, yet even so they would benefit from it all their remaining days.

While it seemed this sight should prompt a satisfied smile, Elrond frowned. There were entirely too many bodies in the place; all the cots and beds filled with the recovering patients, every seat and pallet occupied by worried, exhausted kin. Yet many more had perished, the ward was not so full as it had been. Not since the defeat of the Witch King at Angmar had Elrond's healing skills been required on such a scale. He had hoped never to be in such demand again, but now his heart forebode that this was but a glimpse of future horrors. The days felt heavier, seemed darker, sounded disharmonious to his soul.

Doubts crowded his mind and pulled tight around his fretting heart; when would come the time spoken of in the Elder Days? Elrond was weary and knew it, yet could not rein back his pessimistic mood, replaying the internal strife of the previous day. When would Men inherit the land and set free the elves to journey home at last? He had witnessed already the rise and fall of human-kind twice over. Was there truly any hope left, any small remnant of the nobility of his brother's lineage? What Man could arise from the degenerate stock available? Surely not one of Tar-Minastir's calibre.

His scowl deepened as he turned toward the far end of the room. He was waiting, always waiting, waiting and hoping for the return of a strong king to the realm of Gondor. He was lonely, so lonely and empty and bereft of comfort; his children grown and his wife departed for the Holy Shores of Aman across the Sundering Sea. Elrond sighed; loneliness, weariness, and emptiness aside, he could not sail until this last, this most important of Elros' heirs arrived. Manwë alone knows how distant is that hour.

As he walked Elrond let his insight linger over the injured, assessing their condition, for the gruelling battle against death was still too near for him to entirely trust that it was over. Despite the evidence of healing before him, he would remain in the wards a few days more so to counter setbacks and resurgent infections, a common problem whenever he treated human injury or illness. He would not sleep in his own bed, not yet, not until Laer was fit enough to be put in a comfortable cottage under her mother's attention. A faint smile graced his lips; that would be a good day. He wanted to see that day, to be there when she would finally smile a true smile and laugh a really childish laugh, a giggly, bubbling laugh such as only little girls can produce when they are happy and free of cares and woes and unspeakable agony.

He passed the last bed and continued on. At the furthest corner of the ward was an area screened off from the patients and in it were his supplies of herbs and potions, bandages and basins, needles and obsidian scalpels. There was also a cot, low and comfortable with a feather mattress and down-filled pillow. There he had reclined for a few hours every night since the first victim of the dragon had arrived, coaxing his mind into tranquility and his body into stillness. There he would rest now. He found himself hurrying, more fatigued than he'd been willing to admit, eager to lie flat and stretch out his complaining spine. One of his healers left the enclosure, moving to intercept him, to stay him from this goal, and the elven Lord could not restrain his aggravation.

"What more, Barahin?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest as though to deflect whatever demand her lips might voice.

Clearly, his tone took her aback, for the lady balked and bowed low, using the formal move to hide the fidgeting of her fingers where they twisted in her gown. "Hîren, I regret to tell you this, but we've had to make use of your bed." Her voice was barely above a whisper, as much from dismay as to preserve the serenity of the environment.

"Another patient?" Surprise and dread shouldered aside Elrond's irritation. He'd been so sure of his efforts against the dragon's fire.

"Aye, Lord. It was necessary; there were no more cots free, for we allowed the exhausted kin of the wounded to rest in those emptied by the deceased. It seemed wrong to us for them to lie upon the floor when there was room." Barahin found her courage and boldly stated her reasoning, counting on her Lord's compassionate nature to agree with her decision. "We did not wish to disturb them from slumber, for they need this time in reverie as much as do the injured."

"You did well," Elrond nodded, proud of her both for speaking up and for her gracious consideration of their patients' families. "Who is this new patient, one of Glorfindel's warriors? Is there news of a victory?"

"No, Hîren; there has been no word from the 'shaws as yet. This is one of the Wood Elves from Mirkwood. He was injured in a brawl but there is no real danger; it is but a mild concussion and a small laceration. Hîr Erestor ordered him carried here until he regains consciousness."

"A brawl? We have missed some excitement, it seems," Elrond grinned, imagining Erestor's exasperation over such a thing. "No matter, send one of the aides to the barracks for some bedding. It won't be the first time I've rested upon the floor." He moved on past Barahin, knowing she would not try to argue with him. They had worked long years together in these wards and she understood his dedication to the sick under his care.

A few steps carried him the remainder of the distance and he entered the combined office and storage chamber. The room was lit by the wavering flame of a single candle, its orange light dancing. Disturbed by the lift and fall of the curtained door, the dusky glow flickered, casting oblique illumination amid the darkened space, highlighting in sharp relief a succession of instruments and fixtures until it settled and burned true. He spared a glance toward the shadowed alcove where the warrior lay upon the bed, a motionless and featureless form, the frail light insufficient to reveal any detail save a faint shimmer as of bronze where long, heavy tresses hung over the side dripping a puddle on the floor. Elrond made a face expressive of mild displeasure and turned away; the mattress would need to be dried out and aired now.

Beside his sturdy work table, Elrond found a tub and tepid water along with everything required to ensure a refreshing wash. He smiled at the consideration of his staff, hastily undressed, and stepped into the basin, eager to be clean. Dipping a pitcher into the water, he doused it over his upturned face, relishing the sensation of the warm liquid cascading over his shoulders and chest, running down his back, trickling over his thighs, splashing noisily into the copper basin. The flow sluiced away the rancourous discontent wrought by unanswerable questions posed over the course of endless, patient centuries. He repeated the procedure until the sound and the sensation silenced every thought belonging to his uneasy frustration.

Next, he grabbed a small, coarse sponge and a pot of soap, dipped the first in the second, then squeezed and kneaded the perforated fibres until his hands dripped with thick, creamy lather. That brought dulcet nostalgia to his heart; since childhood he'd loved the similarity between the foamy stuff and clouds, imagining he had made the heaven-bound fluff and was washing in it. A quiet laugh filled the room.

Contented, Elrond rubbed the slippery froth across his chest, the back of his neck, over and under each arm. Concentrating solely on the motion, he scrubbed in small swift circles, rubbing off the thin residue of grime the day's work had generated, relishing the invigorating rush of enhanced circulation. He passed the sponge over his abdomen and groin, his buttocks and thighs, finally reaching round to massage away the tightness in his back. He reached for the pitcher again; it required four rinses to remove all the suds and soap.

Through the garrulous splashing of the falling water, he heard a low moan and paused, glancing through the darkness toward the sound. He detected no movement, however, and determined the recovering warrior was only just beginning to regain consciousness.

That did not deter the elven Lord from completing his ablutions; there was still his hair to wash and he set to it with gusto. Elrond stepped out of the basin and knelt beside it, presenting his back to the patient on the cot, and freed his long ebony locks from the severe braid, leaning forward so they cascaded over the side. He filled the pitcher again and again, pouring the water over his head until the thick mane was fully saturated, and was vigourously working the soap through the strands when a long, whispery sigh drifted from the alcove. It was not exactly a sound of distress yet Elrond paused nonetheless, trying in vain to see through the drape of wet hair.

Where his eyes failed him his ears did not and the healer recognised the subtle sound of the sylvan elf shifting on the bed. Elrond rinsed his hair quickly ere he stood and turned to the dim niche again. The shadowed figure was still poorly defined yet there was enough light to see that he had raised himself up somewhat; his head and shoulders made a denser outline in the darkness where only empty air had been before. Elrond could not restrain his curiosity and took up the candle, silently approaching to inspect this woodland creature and judge the state of his health. Perhaps he was well enough to be sent back to the barracks and Elrond could rest in the bed after all.

The candlelight was captured by a set of shining sapphire eyes filled with both startlement and desire and Elrond's breath caught as his step faltered. The eyes were wide and staring from a face so exquisite the lore-master did not even realise he'd stopped breathing for a second, mesmerised by the fine high cheeks, parted crimson lips, firm jaw, and stubborn chin. An inarticulate sound issued from that sensuous mouth and a red tongue darted out to lick the lush flesh delimiting it, leaving a wet sheen that seemed to invite the healer to taste them.

Elrond swallowed, the idea of banishing this elf from the cot forgotten, and moved closer, raising the candle higher to illuminate the rest of the figure. A delighted grin spread slowly over his face as his gaze travelled with equal leisure, enjoying the revelation of the completely naked and aroused young elf's well-made physique.

He was propped upon his elbow, panting faintly, chest rising and falling so that the eye could not help but be tantalised by the vision of the cinnabar nipples flexing in time with his arm. The limb was busy, moving the fist encircling his erect penis. He was lean and strong, his legs graceful and shapely, his abdomen flat and tight beneath a narrow waist. Even his feet were elegant, Elrond thought, reaching out and bending low to stroke his fingers across the arch and over the toes, which curled up in response.

"Oh, Valar." The elf's voice wavered in low and lustful tones. "Is this a dream?"

"Perhaps. Who can say?" Elrond smiled, closing the distance quickly as his hand ran up the leg, over the hip, and came to the active arm. He took hold at the wrist and halted the rapid stroking, smirking as the youth sucked in a loud gasp and tried to jerk free.

"What are you "

"Be still," he ordered, climbing onto the bed as he drew the hand off the red cock, straddling the angular hips and leaning forward. "No harm will come to you here." He let his hardening penis drag against the smooth, firm belly, let the weight of his balls just brush the slippery tip of the organ beneath him, let a murmured moan announce what an erotic thrill that was. A ripple of excitement coursed through the prone form, fleeing his lips as a strangled oath. In a single motion Elrond set the candle on the bedside table and licked one of the pink nipples, delighting in the cry this evoked, the flavour of the skin, the heat and hardness of the flesh beneath his tongue.

The elf collapsed onto his back, thus freeing a hand which cautiously extended to touch Elrond's hair before retracting, snatched back almost in fright. Elrond rewarded the attempt to participate by sampling the other nipple, smiling as the body beneath him shifted up into the stimulus. Slowly the hand returned and felt along the curve of his rear, following it down to the crease where the leg was adjoined before hastily retreating the way it came to rest in the small of the back.

"What teasing foreplay," Elrond chuckled. He did not let his lips linger long on the ripe titbits; there were too many other delicacies to sample. Kissing his way up the breastbone to the throat, he paused to nudge the convulsive motion of the larynx as the elf swallowed. Then he resumed oral exploration of neck and jaw, nibbling and sucking with the intent to leave a mark that wouldn't fade for hours, only stopping when a decidedly decadent whimper vibrated through the skin beneath his lips. He lifted his head to meet those extraordinary blue eyes and smiled.

"That is a lovely sound," he whispered and gave a voiceless laugh, so close to the enchantingly parted mouth that he could feel the breath coming and going from his captive's lungs. He was also close enough to spy the neatly stitched cut near the temple where a trail of dried blood had not been washed from the damp golden hair. A painful looking lump adorned the opposite side of the cranium. Elrond let go of the wrist he had been holding and carefully palpated the puffy skin around the incision. A harsh hiss and a toss of the head combined with a warning glare from the sylvan made him stop and their eyes met again.

"Man na le?" (Who are you?) asked Legolas with no small amount of exasperation, for he'd expected a kiss and received instead a rather more clinical caress.

The pain dulled his ardour somewhat and left no doubt that this was really happening and not a strange permutation of the impassioned dreams that generally accompanied his reverie. He struggled a bit half-heartedly, thinking he probably ought to get this unknown Noldo elf off him yet not truly wanting to end the encounter. It wasn't every night one awakened to find an attractive, naked elf washing his hair two strides from the bed. In fact, he'd never awakened to discover a naked elf engaged in any activity in his rooms. That he was also naked led Legolas to believe intimacies had already occurred, yet with maddening frustration realised he couldn't remember any details.

This head wound's doing, no doubt. Legolas wasn't clear as to how he'd come by the injury, though he had a vague recollection of battle. Who his antagonist had been he could not recall and trying to force the memories meant he would have to deflect attention from this much more pleasing confrontation. The idea that his opponent might have been this very elf sent a jolt through him that surprisingly held neither panic nor rage but instead a bright and jarring combination of anticipation and desire.

"Im nestaron," (I'm a healer) Elrond answered readily. He'd remained thoughtful during those few seconds in which confusion and lust warred within the elf's eyes, pondering if it was ethical to seduce an injured elf, even one suffering so minor a hurt. His hesitation was minimal, however, for the unknown ellon was more than willing, despite these feeble attempts to get free. Their mutual anonymity appealed to Elrond and heightened his excitement; the Lord of Imladris could not lower himself to tumble a common sylvan archer, but a simple healer would not be condemned for a night of sport with such an alluring creature. The decision was made in a heartbeat.

He didn't wait for a response, lunging in to claim the lips so near to his, probing deeply as the warrior's tongue retreated behind a muffled cry. The lean body tensed and stilled as the eyes expanded to impossible diameters and Elrond knew at once this elf had never been kissed, not like this, not with unbridled passion and desire. He reined back his hunger and let the invasion become tender, gently stroking the sylvan's sensitive palate, coaxing the shy oral muscle to come and play. When the rigid frame beneath him relaxed, Elrond ended the kiss, breaking the suction with a distinct little pop, and smiled into the dreamy expression regarding him from that angelic face.

"Did you like that?" he asked quietly, letting his fingers follow the rim of a red-flushed ear up to its pinnacle. His voice was calm and soothing but inside his pulse was racing; the elf he was about to take was a virgin, something he had never experienced with a male. He had shared a warrior's bond with ellyn in times of battle but none of those vigourous veterans had been untouched.

"Aye," the sylvan's breath hitched as the tingling ear tip was oh so delicately flicked. "We do not have healers like this in Greenwood," he added, tentatively raising his hand to imitate what was being done to him. The response was magnificent, for the dark-haired elf groaned in delight and the cock pressed against his midriff twitched.

"Maethor eryndor, sen úgaro agorech," (Woodland warrior, you have not done this.) Elrond said. He pulled the fingers away from his ear and kissed them, watching the play of emotion in the innocent eyes. How well he remembered that mixture of fear, longing, and nervous exhilaration, yet this must be so different. Elrond had not been in the submissive position when he cast off chastity nor had his first experience been with his own gender.

"Nay. I know what to do, though," insisted the sylvan, but his blustering could not hide just how limited was this knowledge.

Elrond smiled. "That is good, but why have you never done this? Surely you are of age else you would not be among the Woodland Princes' guards." At this a look that he could only interpret as panic washed across the indigo irises and Elrond was both intrigued and concerned. A small note of caution sounded in his mind.

"I came of age ten and a half coronars past," answered Legolas, stalling to concoct some answer for he could not admit to this elf who he was.

"Ah, that explains it, then," Elrond smiled, his worries answered. He remembered being sixty. What fervour that age had inspired, the determination to prove himself, to excel as both a warrior and a scholar, to win the approval and acceptance of his elders and his mentors. Yet sylvan custom must be different than Noldorin tradition, for he'd relinquished innocence during the celebration of his Coll-en-Gweth. (Mantle of Manhood) "You must be a fine archer to have earned renown enough to stand so tall in King Thranduil's favour at so young an age."

"What? Oh, yes, I suppose so," stammered Legolas, astounded at his luck. The healer was supplying the reasons all by himself.

"Still, if I am so moved by your extraordinary beauty surely others have been equally smitten. Has no one in your land expressed the desire to court you?"

Legolas hesitated, wavering between appreciation to be given this compliment and aggravation to be judged the quarry in the chase. That he might wish to yield made no difference; the favour should not be assumed.

"Maybe and maybe I am the one doing the courting," he said and tried out what he hoped was a seductive leer, fingers playing with the ebony tresses framing the elf's face. To his dismay, the healer bit his lip to keep from laughing, dark eyes alight with suppressed amusement, and in the end it was too much. The comely face dropped to Legolas' shoulder as a snort escaped. The regal prince was both deeply offended and utterly mortified. "Ai! Get off, then, if I am just a joke to you!"

He shoved against the bare shoulders as he tried to roll from under the ellon's weight and the friction as their cocks rubbed together instantly drove away wrath and gaiety alike. They each loosed a wanton moan, flexing hips to increase the pressure between them, rocking against the warm and vibrant connection.

"Oh! I have never had no idea this " Legolas stuttered, nearly undone by the sensual stimulation.

"I need you to say it," Elrond struggled through the haze of potent craving to make his thoughts clear. "Tell me you want this, want me to be the one." He mastered himself with a complaining grunt and slid off the compliant body to lie beside the archer, sucking in a huge breath as a great shudder worked through him. His eyes drifted shut. Valar, it has been so long.

Legolas understood and though he tried to think of an answer that sounded mature and sophisticated, the best he could manage was a hoarse "Aye!"

This feeling was too intense and he wanted to experience the rest, to understand what the mystery was all about. At home, he might remain untouched for centuries. Once his identity was known every suitor quickly backed off, fearful of igniting the King's wrath by dallying with his beloved youngest elfling prince. The thought flashed across Legolas' brain that his Adar's fury might be far worse were he to lose his virginity under the present circumstances, but the deliciously tingling fire burning through his body was just too distracting. The warning blazed on by and fizzled out.

He reached out to touch the source of that internal conflagration, caressing heaving pectorals, pausing to circle small hard nipples. His fingers ran over them and he groaned, trying to resist the desire to taste the flesh, but the temptation was too great and he laved one, sucking it in as he plucked at the other. The healer mumbled some encouragement but Legolas failed to decipher the words, lost in the novel event, savouring the sensation of grazing unknown territory, memorising the scent of this total stranger. He licked down the breastbone to the hard stomach, lingering at the naval where he found a silky track to guide him lower. His cheek bumped against the crown of the proud erection before he could do more than appreciate the discovery and of course his attention became focused there. He pressed lips lightly atop the glans and the column of hot and heavy flesh jumped up to meet him. An eager cry sounded from the healer and a hand came to rest on the back of his head, pushing him down.

The smell of musk assaulted his nose and he hesitated but a second. His mouth opened, enveloping the shaft, and almost at once a spasmodic thrust pushed the organ deeper. He almost panicked but the next instant the massive cock pulled back and Legolas had time to breathe before the next shove. He exerted greater suction, ran his tongue over the smooth skin, let his teeth scrape faintly against the pinnacle. It was incredible, from the acrid taste to the exhilaration wrought by the healer's peculiar, snuffling cries as the penis rocked in and out. He raised his eyes to find the penetrating gaze watching him avidly, the stare filled with such vehement longing that Legolas froze.

Abruptly the Noldorin elf grabbed a handful of hair and yanked him up and off, practically dragging him face to face, seized his lips, thrust his tongue in, lapped at the roof of his mouth, and filled him with excitement he did not know how to temper. The next instant fingers tweaked and pulled at his nipples and ears and Legolas would have screamed if he'd had enough air for it. The incessant push of the engorged cock against his made him buck and writhe, seeking more contact as every nerve came alive. He could feel his release building and had neither the will nor the experience to stop it.

A shift of the healer's leg caused the slickened tip of Legolas' cock to dip into the Noldo's navel and that was it. Legolas did scream, though the cry went no further than his partner's lungs. Senses reeling, his soul exulted in the brilliant scintillation of a thousand winking stars. By the time he was coherent again, the kiss was over and the elf was leaning over his stomach, licking up the evidence of his spent passion.

"Ai, that was amazing," he drawled, smiling a lopsided grin as he watched what surely he would have deemed disgusting were he not the recipient of such attention.

"Indeed," intoned Elrond, smiling wickedly as he laid his head upon the wet skin. "Someone needs to clean me off, too."

Legolas' eyes grew huge. "You want me to to eat my own substance?" He completely failed to hide the repugnance this notion produced, and that was followed by embarrassment as the healer laughed merrily. Legolas suddenly didn't feel so euphoric anymore. He sat up, pushing the head out of his lap and moving to rise.

"Nay!" Elrond calmed his mirth and wrapped strong arms around the slender waist, dragging the Wood Elf down on the mattress again. "I was teasing you and I'm sorry. It has been a long time for me and I find I'm nervous. Please forgive me, Maethoren." (My warrior)

"I am not yours," countered Legolas, surprised by the admission of vulnerability and unable to mask the pleasure hearing that endearment gave him.

"Not yet," smiled Elrond, "but before dawn you will be. Unless you no longer find me appealing and want someone else with whom to share this experience." As he spoke, Elrond shifted to lie beside the sylvan warrior, making no effort to shield the youth from the sight or feel of his erection, letting it bump against the archer's hip provocatively, reaching down to stroke it while he watched the response this caused. Those blue eyes were locked on his hand and the Wood Elf rolled to face him and gain a clearer view.

Without even thinking about it, Legolas reached for the hand so skilfully working that distended organ, so engorged it was nearly purple and leaking beads of pearly fluid from its crown. Once he pried the fingers off and had the entirety of it revealed, he gave it an appraising, admiring inspection. The healer's penis had a girth thick as a two year sapling, its length greater than any other he'd seen. He wrapped his fingers around it and gave a few firm strokes, running his thumb through the seeping juices, smiling when this raised a decadent moan. He was tempted to resume the oral adoration, suddenly desiring to make this elf come undone and watch it happen.

A glance back at the handsome face found the compelling grey eyes focused on the motion and then they lifted, searing Legolas' soul with the intensity of the desire within them. Their lips crashed together and Legolas found himself once more beneath the firm hard body, his hand unable to move as the rigid shaft slid back and forth within his grip. A deep, growling, hungry moan rippled down his throat and set off a series of sympathetic vibrations in his own vocal chords; Legolas grew hard again. The kiss and the pivoting friction ended together, but not with the climax he'd hoped to bring about.

Elrond disengaged, rolling to the side and prying the gifted fingers loose. "That feels wonderful, truly, but I don't want to come that way," he explained, propping his head on an elbow and planting a quick kiss on the warrior's cheek, "and if you would shed your virginity tonight, then we must be fully coupled, our bodies joined as one. I must spill inside you." His smile softened as he watched the wide-eyed expression of combined anticipation, disbelief, and unmistakable apprehension. "Worry not; I would do nothing to cause you injury. The body adapts quickly. Imagine the sensation you've just experienced but increase it a thousand fold."

"Does not seem possible, on first consideration," whispered the sylvan warrior, licking his lips nervously as his vision flickered between the piercing grey eyes.

"I promise this will be more pleasure than you can comprehend and any discomfort will be minor and swiftly forgotten." Elrond was surprised; apparently the sylvan had not explored his internal anatomy. Unless warrior training had changed drastically, he should have had ample opportunity to experiment or at least spy on others doing so. The renowned elven Lord was not willing to stop just because of this, no matter that distant note of caution humming beneath his desire, for it was also common for a male interested in bedding his own sex to learn such skills from someone already experienced in that area. That Elrond had never taken virginity from an ellon was irrelevant to the urge to do so. Added to the excitement of being the elf's very first was the titillating enticement of mastering another male so completely.

"What will you do?" Legolas asked. He had not envisioned his first time happening like this, nor dreamed that he would submit to another. He wasn't sure how he felt about being penetrated, but there was an undeniable appeal to being overpowered he hadn't thought possible before this night. The healer's confidence was unrelenting and unless Legolas was willing to leave immediately, he would be this elf's lover before dawn. He was definitely not willing to leave. The idea gave his heart a strong jolt and he shifted closer.

That made Elrond sigh in happy suspense, dipping his head to lap and nip at the shadowed flesh beneath the clavicle, for such a query affirmed the warrior's consent. It was a little while before he found means to answer and when he did his hands expressed his intentions, caressing and smoothing over shoulders and down arms, traipsing across a jutting hip to pet and squeeze the ample mound of the archer's small round rear. While enjoying a deep kiss, he coaxed a long lean limb up to sprawl across his waist, pulling the young elf's groin in close against his cock. A tremulous wail accompanied the delicious sensation as a frisson shook the Wood Elf. Elrond withdrew from the beguiling lips and smiled, pleased to receive an answering grin as the leg bent over his hip flexed to secure their cohesion. The golden warrior nudged under his chin, sampling the skin of his throat, trying out the technique just employed upon his own, and Elrond gave an appreciative whine.

With his partner thus engaged, Elrond began again to explore the flesh beneath his hand, slipping along the widened crease and around the curve, plunging into the divide to softly touch the exposed entrance. So gentle was this first impact that the youth did not react unfavourably and Elrond increased the tactile teasing, circling the sealed opening and pressing light taps upon the sensitive skin. This did engender a harsh gasp and a sudden change from languid relaxation to rigid tension throughout the warrior's body, but Elrond persisted. "You have nothing to fear. The first finger will feel strange but once I find the right spot you'll welcome the intrusion."

"You have done this before?" Legolas gasped out as the finger pushed against him and he instinctively tightened up. He kept his face hidden and grabbed onto the broad shoulders for all he was worth. His heart was racing, both dreading and desiring what must come next.

"Many times," Elrond answered, for that much was true even if it had been quite some time ago.

"Do it then," Legolas said and braced himself, stiff and panting and sweating in the healer's arms.

"Sîdh," whispered Elrond, nuzzling the wet golden mane until he found an ear, to which he imparted a lavish lick. "No need to hurry and I promised not to cause you pain. I will not enter you dry, not even with my fingers. Be still, be calm. There is much within the stores here to ease the way." With that he reached down and tipped up the sylvan's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. It was only with great effort that he refrained from breaking into soft laughter over the grim and resolute countenance he faced. "Do not move, Maethoren," he crooned, planted a peck on the aquiline nose, and eased out from under the slender leg.

No more than a single stride carried him beyond the candle's meagre flame and Elrond turned back to take it up, finding his quarry shifting over onto his back, offering a tempting display of naked flesh, tawny coloured in the wavering half-light, nipples rosy and erect, eyes glittering and dark. Arms crossed behind his head, the archer spread his legs wide and stretched, the slender shaft flexing in the process and emitting an alluring musk. The Elven Lord swooped down and stole a searing kiss, fast and devouring. He withdrew, unable to hide his delight to see the smug triumph overtaking his lover's features. It was best to encourage this sense of sexual power the first time. Abruptly he sobered and sat on the edge of the cot again, reaching out to stroke the straight jaw and press his thumb gently over the archer's full lower lip.

"This is a gift you give me, Maethoren. Be assured, I will treasure it for all my days," he said and saw at once the strong effect this had on the young warrior, for a quick swallow constricted his throat even as argent radiance gathered in his aura. Elrond rose and hastened to seek a suitable salve, returning with the small pot and setting the candle back on the table.

"Shall I turn over?" came the subdued query and Elrond smiled, shaking his head as he coated his fingers and put the jar away. Gently he reached for the archer's hip, tugging to draw the lean figure once more to the side.

"Nay, that would limit my access," he whispered, leaning low to kiss the jutting bone even as he reclined, positioning himself so that his head lay beside the warrior's crotch. He burrowed in and wasted no time, immediately enveloping the velvety head of the warm, aroused shaft with his lips. A startled cry met his ears as an involuntary jerk pushed the organ deeper. Elrond hummed a seductive note of appreciation and used his tongue to caress the seeping glans, generating suction that induced another quick retreat and thrust. In concert with that action, he slipping his slickened fingers back to palpating the anal access, timing the breaching of the taut muscles with another sweep of his tongue over the slit in the archer's cock.

"Ai!" the cry rang out and instinctively Legolas rocked forward deeper into the wet heat, seeking to evade the invading probe, then the next instant pulled back, fearful of choking his lover. The motion eased the digit deeper and he lost all ability to breathe for a few seconds. The sensation was peculiar and he could not call it comfortable, yet neither was there pain associated with it. He simply was not at ease and squirmed against the intrusion, which felt huge though he knew it was not. But for the diversion provided by the healer's mouth, he would have ended the encounter right then. "'Tis not pleasurable," he ground out as he was poked and prodded. He regretted the complaint at once as his penis was released.

"Patience, maethor neth," chided Elrond, glancing up to see how serious the discomfort truly was. He was gratified to note no signs of real pain and smiled. "You will soon form a new opinion of the experience," he promised and carefully withdrew the finger slightly before plunging it in until there was no more left to insert. Another harsh exhale greeted that effort and Elrond returned his oral attention to the somewhat deflated erection and the sensitive glands gathered at its base. Carefully he drew one of the hidden testicles inside his mouth and simultaneously curled the finger, drawing it out. As he had hoped would happen, this manoeuvre stroked the small mound where the prostate lay. The reaction was all he might have wished, for the youth gave a loud shout and a mighty tremor rocked his body, followed by a purely instinctive reverse thrust to repeat the feeling.

"Valar!" Legolas crooned. "Again!"

Quickly Elrond changed position, coming up to his knees, fisting the renewed erection and pumping as he pressed the internal pulse-point repeatedly. He knew the warrior would not be able to delay his orgasm under this seductive onslaught and added a second finger on the next withdrawal. The sylvan moaned as he was stretched, shuddering and shifting, and Elrond inserted a third finger, opening them like a tri-lobed flower as he shoved in as far as he could manage.

"Valar nin beria!" Legolas choked out, desperately trying to gather his strength, unable to decide whether to flip onto his stomach or drawn his knees beneath him and rise to all fours. He was so close now that he all but forgot the ultimate purpose of this invasive manipulation, until abruptly all the fullness left him and the exquisite pressure surrounding his erection lifted. He could not prevent the cry of frustration that fled his lungs, nor the embarrassing words of entreaty he uttered next. "Saes! Pathro nin, Nestaron, saes, pathro nin." (Please! Fill me, Healer, please, fill me.)

Elrond did not even take time to respond, at least not with words, as he rapidly smeared the greasy ointment over his aching cock, grabbed the warrior at the hips, rolled him to his stomach, and thrust fully into the delectable confinement. A long, low moan of hunger escaped him and he registered the loud smack of his thighs upon the warrior's firm rump with a blaze of triumphant delight. There was no conscious effort to direct his motion beyond that and the elven Lord thrust in and out with the full force he could produce, relishing the gyrating struggles of the supple body beneath him. The Wood Elf arched his back and bucked, hands gripping the sheets, head bowed and shoulders tense, an occasional cry getting past his lips amid his efforts to draw sufficient air.

Legolas was quite beyond reason, passion depriving him of all ability to think as ripple after ripple of exquisite pleasure streaked through his nerves, his mind afire in a scorching array of colour and light that was as tangible the cock stroking him so thoroughly. He knew only that he never wanted it to end, even as he drove harder into each concussive jolt. A hand reached beneath his belly and gripped his penis and the touch was like a song incarnate, propelling him rapidly into orgasm. A long warbling cry of exultation left him as his semen spattered the sheets, the tart and musty scent filling the curtained space. Every muscle in his body contracting in spasms of such unbearable pleasure that he thought he might weep. The next sensation startled him, for the healer gave a nearly violent shove and a deep, guttural growl as hot seed streamed from the swollen cock sheathed to the hilt in Legolas' bowels.

It was a shock and he turned to peer behind him, staring wide-eyed at the dreamy, euphoric expression shaping the features of the powerful male who had without doubt claimed him utterly. Legolas shuddered, submissively spreading his legs wider on the mattress, already wanting more, relishing the last lingering tremors of their potent coupling as the healer continued to rock slowly into him. Suddenly the compelling grey eyes, sealed during their mutual ecstasy, opened and locked with his. Legolas caught his breath. Never had he looked upon such warmth and genuine delight, a mixture of surprise and gratitude and, most strange and wondrous of all, recognition. All this set a chord to thrumming somewhere in the depths of his soul. Legolas broke into a beaming smile.

Elrond stilled, lost in the absolute surrender of the woodland warrior. He found it impossible to tear his gaze from the sapphire eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of the connection between them. He realised he was grinning like a fool and didn't care. Carefully he withdrew, gathering his sylvan lover close, kissing the bare shoulder as he settled on the bed. The elf turned in his arms, and coyly leaned up for a kiss, still sporting that radiant smile, before settling contentedly atop his chest, chin resting on folded arms. Elrond couldn't help himself and dipped his hands into the golden mane, fondled an ear, caressed the elegant cheek, laughing lightly when the archer turned and kissed his palm.

"We'll being doing that again, yes?" Legolas asked, slithering forward to steal another taste of the healer's lips, noticing the distinct flavour of his own body there.

"Oh yes," assured Elrond. "As often as you like."

"What is your name, Nestaron?"

It was at this point that things became rather complicated.

TBC

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
Elvish names and such:

Guanunig (One of a pair of twins)
Celon'lîr (River Song - Thranduil's eldest)
Ûrrusc (Fire Fox - Thranduil's nephew)
Tuiw. (Sprout - a pet name for Legolas)
Faron (Hunter - also Thranduil's nephew)
Mallavorn (Black and Gold - one of the warriors)
Filigod (Little Bird - Thranduil's councillor)
Condir O Gladgalen (Mayor of Greenwood - Filigod's Official Title)
Giliach (Star Crossing - Cel's false identity while in Lorien)
Tôradar (brother-father: uncle)
Hîren Adar (My Lord Father)
Hîr Adar mín (our Lord Father)
Ernil (Prince)
Ernil Vain, (Pre-eminent Prince)
Ernil Daid (Secondary Prince)
ion-an'weath (son-by-bond - son-in-law)
aurlinn (day-bird, a wood thrush)
Minya'mmë (grandmother)
thêl dithen. (little sister)
muindor laes, (baby brother)
nâr (rat)