Forests of the Night

[sildil]

jaiden_s and I were both inspired by say_aye's picture 'Golden Aspect' portraying a young Elrond and Thranduil together and found we had similar ideas about Thranduil, so.....

Here you are, for your delight and entertainment,

Title: Forests of the Night
Type: FPS
Authors: Sildil and Jaiden S sildil@livejournal.com
Jadedone23@yahoo.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Thranduil/Elrond
Beta: The lovely and talented Enismirdal
Warning: Two hot male elves doing what comes naturally
Disclaimer: Characters are all Tolkien’s not ours, we are just playing with them and will put them back nicely afterwards.
Timeline: Pre and post fellowship
Notes: Inspired by SayAye’s picture ‘Golden Aspect.’ We both discovered we had similar ideas about Thranduil. Hymn on page 9 derived from “For The Beauty Of The Earth”, Words by Francis Pierpoint (1835-1917)

Summary: Elrond and Thranduil discover a connection to each other and to the forest of Mirkwood.




“Oooomph!”

It had been a long and fairly stressful day for Gil-galad’s party when they finally reached Mirkwood, and one of the High King’s young travelling companions had sought peace and solitude in the woods that evening. The last thing he had expected was for a naked, feral Elf with leaves and berries in his hair to drop on him from the branches above.

Elrond picked himself up off the forest floor and stared at the tousled, blonde creature that stood before him grinning with a wild look in his eye. The vision laughed and with a tap on Elrond’s shoulder he ran away swiftly, calling, “Now you catch me!” over his shoulder.

Elrond stood for a moment, torn between regaining his dignity and storming back into Oropher’s palace to complain, or throwing caution to the four winds, catching the blasted Elf and showing him how to behave with more respect to official delegates. The sound of mocking laughter and teasing words drifted through the warm night air and made up his mind for him; Elrond scowled and set off after the elusive Elf.

A few minutes later, Elrond decided that his best velvet dress robes were not ideal clothing for the hot pursuit of wild Elves, and paused to shed them, carefully folding the garments and draping them over a nearby branch for collection later. Now unencumbered and clad in his undertunic and leggings, he rapidly gained on the irritating creature, catching glimpses of pale, dirty skin through the leaves of the trees.

“Come back here at once!” he yelled indignantly. “You just wait till King Oropher hears how you ambushed one of his guests!”

A tinkly giggle sounded close behind him and Elrond spun round to face his tormentor. “Here I am!” chuckled the Elf. “What are you going to do with me now?”

Elrond stood gaping at the audacity of the being. “Wh..what am I going to…? Blast you, I am going to give you such a spanking you will never forget it!” he said, angrily lunging forwards.

The feral Elf leapt back just out of reach. “Oh, is that a promise?” he teased. “I said you had to catch me first!” He made a sudden leap for the branches overhead and before Elrond could grab him he had disappeared once more into the foliage.

Elrond hissed with frustration. “I am not playing your silly game!” he cried. He began to stomp back towards the palace, determined to report this insolent whelp to whomever would listen. Once again, he was completely unaware that he was being stalked and just as he reached the place where he had left his robes, the wretched creature pounced on him again, wrestling him to the ground and sitting astride his body.

“Oh come on, it’s not a silly game, don’t you love being out in the forest at night? I do!” said the wild Elf with a wicked smile and promptly planted a wet kiss on Elrond’s lips. Then he smirked and leapt up leaving the shocked and speechless Elrond lying sprawled on the ground once more. By the time Elrond had recovered himself enough to stand, the Elf had vanished again, but this time apparently for good.

Elrond dusted himself down, muttering and cursing all the time, and his grumbles grew even louder when he realised his robes were missing. “Damn you!” he yelled, shaking a fist at the night air, and strode back to the palace purposefully.

~*~

Elrond was not happy the next morning; the dark, serious Peredhel had been mercilessly teased by Gil-galad and his companions for losing his robes the night before, and all his protests merely added fuel to the fire.

“It’s quite all right. After all, the Mirkwood elves are very fair,” said Gil-galad with an understanding smile.

“That one wasn’t!” snapped Elrond, glaring at the smirking High King. “If I get my hands on him, I’ll…I’ll…”

“…I think you said you would spank me,” said a musical voice.

Just like the night before, the blasted creature had sneaked up on him and Elrond spun round, furious. “How dare you show your face in here!” he yelled. “I jolly well will smack you if I get hold of you!” he snarled. “And take my bloody robes off!”

It was true; the Elf was neatly dressed in Elrond’s gown of the night before with his wild hair braided…well, sort of half-braided, half-hastily-tied-back-with-thin-leather-strips.

“Do you really want me to? I’ve nothing else on,” he sniggered. “Just like last night.”

“Yes, dammit,” said Elrond, stupidly calling the Elf’s bluff.

“Oh very well,” sighed Elrond’s tormentor, and removed the velvet robes, dropping them in a heap on the floor. He stepped away from them, completely nude.

In his temper (and now stunned shock) Elrond had failed to notice Gil-galad urgently trying to say something to him, and when King Oropher suddenly swept in to the room he glared and began to speak. “Your majesty, I must complain. This Elf….”

King Oropher frowned. “…ah, I see you have met my son, Thranduil. Do go and put something on, wretch,” he said affectionately to the smirking Elf.

“Yes, father!” said Thranduil and dashed out quickly, but not before poking his tongue out at Elrond in passing.

Elrond was mortified. That feral creature was the king’s son? And he let him run around the woods at night? Naked?

“Your majesty, I...I don’t know what to say…I am sorry, I…” stammered Elrond, blushing furiously.

“Think nothing of it,” said Oropher airily. “Thranduil is a law unto himself. I cannot tame him, and in any case, I am not sure if it is even necessary to do so. Mirkwood is a wild place with wild things. It seems only fitting that the prince should be wild also. Tsk tsk, are these your robes? You really should take more care of them,” said Oropher, scooping up the velvet gown off the floor and dumping it in a rough bundle in Elrond’s arms. “Gil, a word,” he said and began to discuss tactics and protocol with the High King, quite ignoring the embarrassed and uncomfortable aide.

“I’ll um…go then,” muttered Elrond and backed out of the room irritably. Once clear of the chamber, he scowled. Now that he knew who his tormentor was, he would find him and make him pay for this.

~*~

It didn’t take long to find the prince’s rooms; they were not a secret and every servant he passed willingly gave Elrond directions. They all seemed incredibly fond of their young master, each one saying a kind word or giving Elrond a cheery message to pass on. By the time he had reached the doors to Thranduil’s chambers, Elrond’s temper had cooled somewhat, and instead he felt intrigued by the sort of Elf who would command such devotion and loyalty. He was still a little annoyed and so he didn’t knock, but instead pushed open the large doors and walked straight in.

Thranduil was sitting on balcony, high above the forest and gazing out over the trees. As soon as Elrond entered, he spoke as though they already knew each other of old and needed no introductions or apologies. “I love it here; it’s my favourite spot. I can see the whole of Mirkwood all the way to the mountains. People are always amazed that the palace has such views, since the halls are underground. There aren’t many such places where it’s true, but this is one of them, and it’s my view,” he said possessively. Elrond went to stand beside him and looked out over the sun-topped trees, their leaves moving gently in the warm breeze.

Elrond smiled, his anger finally gone. “Beautiful,” he said, looking more at Thranduil than the view. The Elf was remarkable, now that Elrond could see him properly. His lightly tanned skin was bathed in warm sunlight and his tousled golden hair fell loosely about his broad shoulders. He grew aware of Elrond’s gaze and turned to match his look, his dark green eyes flashing with a wildness that made Elrond shiver. He looked dangerous, feral, like a purring, placid wildcat.

“I sometimes feel I *am* the forest,” said Thranduil softly. “It’s in my blood. Do you want to feel it?” He reached for Elrond’s long, formal tunic and began to unbutton it. “Always so overdressed, no wonder you are so serious and stuffy,” the prince murmured, pushing the jacket off Elrond’s bare shoulders.

“I…I am Gil-galad’s aide, I…” Elrond’s mouth went dry and his heart began to pound in his chest. This Elf was a demon, bewitching him, and he could quite believe he was untameable.

“Rubbish, even aides need to feel the warm sun on their bodies and the breeze in their hair,” said Thranduil with affection and turned Elrond around, pressing his now naked torso back against his own chest. “Just look and feel,” he whispered into the dark Elf’s ear and held him tightly to his body, both Elves staring out at the vast forest beneath them.

Elrond shivered at the conflicting sensation of smooth, hot skin pressed against his back and the gentle breeze playing over his chest. He made as if to say something, but Thranduil put his fingers gently on Elrond’s lips. “Hush, not a word, just feel,” the prince repeated.

Elrond stared out at the trees, watching them sway gently. He let his eyes travel the length of the wood to stare at the bright mountains beyond, their tops still snow-capped even in summer. He followed the flight of a bird, a falcon or hawk, as it hunted, and watched it suddenly plunge, to rise again with its prey in its sharp talons.

All the while Thranduil stroked and caressed Elrond’s shoulders and arms, and his lips ghosted over the skin of the dark Elf’s neck. The longer Elrond stared at Mirkwood, the more he could see: the insects buzzing lazily in sunlit glades, small creatures snuffling in the undergrowth, a fox seeking its dinner, and over and through all of it he could feel Thranduil’s heartbeat, strong and rhythmical against his back. In Elrond’s heart and mind, the forest’s own heart began to beat in time with the prince’s, and the dark Elf gave a gasp of wonder.

“You feel it! I knew you would,” said Thranduil triumphantly, and spun Elrond round to face him, pulling the bewitched Elf into a passionate kiss. Elrond could not help but respond and clutched at Thranduil eagerly. He felt more alive than ever before; his blood ran through his veins like a forest fire.

Thranduil bent and sucked at Elrond’ neck, marking it, and Elrond threw his head back with a moan. “I don’t…understand, wh…what are you doing?”

“I am setting you free from your cage, my dark, passionate Elf!” growled Thranduil, planting kisses across Elrond’s chest.

“P...p...passionate?” squeaked Elrond. “I’m not passionate…am I?”

“Oh yes, you are passionate and wild, just like me,” said Thranduil in a low, husky voice as he fell to the floor, pulling Elrond down with him. He rolled Elrond onto his back and straddled his legs, his hands working at the ties to the dark Elf’s leggings.

Elrond gasped as Thranduil released him and took his hard shaft in hand along with his own. “Th…Thranduil! Oh, please!”

“No need to beg, my love, my need is as great as yours,” whispered Thranduil fiercely in Elrond’s ear, and began to stroke them both in his firm grip. Elrond twisted and writhed and reached down with a hand to push the prince away, but his treacherous fingers joined Thranduil’s in bringing them both pleasure. His heart gave a leap as sweet ecstatic sounds began to spill from Thranduil’s lips at his touch. Unbidden, Elrond’s other hand pushed itself through the prince’s thick tresses, holding a great fistful of silken gold. He pulled the fair Elf’s mouth to his and plunged his tongue into the warm depths, exploring his wild taste. Thranduil had lit a fire in his loins and awakened his passion as he promised; all Elrond could do was to try to keep breathing and feel.

Both Elves strained and thrust into their linked hands, their cries and moans of carnality joined in the feral song of the forest around them, within them. Elrond could feel the heartbeat of the wild wood as it beat against his own chest, held imprisoned within the slickness of Thranduil’s skin. With a howl Thranduil came, splashing his seed between them both, and Elrond followed, sobbing with the pleasure and the pain of it all.

They lay still, panting, hands still locked together around their softening sex, sharing lazy kisses until their breathing calmed and all was quiet. Elrond closed his eyes. He could feel the forest breathing, hear every rustle of the leaves and see every tree in his mind’s eye. As Thranduil kissed him softly and rolled away, he felt the forest fade in his heart and mind and he cried out at the loss. Hearing his distress, the prince leant over Elrond, blowing gently into his mouth and the link with the wildwood was there once more.

Elrond opened his eyes in fear and wonder. “Are you a..a wizard?”

Thranduil laughed. “No, just an Elf…but I told you I was the forest, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but…”

“…but what?” Thranduil grinned.

“But that was…incredible. I have never…never felt…”

“I know,” said Thranduil. “I have never shared that with anyone else.”

~*~

They were going to spend the rest of Elrond’s visit together. They were going to run through the forest at night, and Thranduil was going to show Elrond the secret places, the hidden treasures of his beloved Mirkwood. They were going to stay together forever, weaving wreaths of leaves and berries to wear on their heads as Lords of Mirkwood. Every time they kissed or touched that afternoon, the forest seemed to sing around them.

Then they were summoned to the High King’s Council and Gil-galad and Oropher spoke of the battle that was to come and of loyalty and unwavering support. Fired with the enthusiasm of youth and good causes, Thranduil and Elrond stood side by side and swore to help rid Middle-earth of the evil that had arisen. They promised each other that nothing would part them; even should death take them, they would wait for each other in the Undying Lands.

In the first light of dawn they rode out, eager to make their mark on the battle. And indeed they did, standing side by side as they had promised, fighting and slashing, stabbing and killing until all fell apart around them. Death tainted their clothes and the ground was wet with blood. In the end it was not the battle that separated them, it was duty and responsibility.

A grieving Thranduil returned home, alone, unexpected King of his beloved Mirkwood, and Elrond went his own way, bereft of the High King he served, the battle won, but all else lost.

~*~

As the centuries passed, the unyielding influence of Sauron cast its long shadow on the Greenwood, changing it in ways both obvious and subtle. No longer could an Elf find safety or refuge among the towering trees that stood proudly in the dense forest. Darkness crept in among the shadows like a clever thief, stealing the whispered voices of the leaves and the earnest songs of the sparrows.

Thranduil, thrust unwillingly into his role as King of Mirkwood, sensed these changes more keenly than most. Bound by fate and spirit to the very essence of the wood, he felt every encroaching step that evil trod within his precious Greenwood and swore an unspoken oath to protect his realm and those who dwelt within from the approaching night. Yet try as he might, he found it nigh impossible to defend the land he held so dear against the unrelenting attack of Sauron’s forces. Little by little, the wild beauty of the Greenwood descended into ruin, and Thranduil’s free-spirited joy faded into memory, replaced by sombre obligation.

When the call came from Imaldris, convening a council regarding the One Ring, Thranduil chose to send his son, Legolas, on his behalf. “My fate remains tied to Mirkwood, our destinies intertwined as the branches of a fig tree,” he told his son as he bid him farewell. “But you remain unfettered. Go. Represent the valour and strength of your people and take with you the blessings of our fair realm.”

“And what of Lord Elrond, Ada? Have you any message to pass along?” asked Legolas before he took his leave.

Thranduil’s eyes misted, his mind struggling to recall faint laughter and wisps of night blooming jasmine along the shores of the river. “Aye. Give him this,” he replied, plucking a lone hyacinth from a nearby bush. “Hope blossoms eternal in the heart of Mirkwood.”

~*~

The instant the One Ring was tossed into the fires of Mordor, Thranduil knew. He felt it as certainly as he felt the grass spring to life under his feet. Somewhere deep inside the cold hollows of his heart flickered a tiny flame of hope, and he smiled.

Slowly, gradually, the long winter surrendered to the first blush of spring. Arien rose each morning glorious and stunning, calling forth the beautiful wood as a bridegroom calls to his betrothed. Songs of bluebird and nightingale floated on the soft breezes that rustled through the newly budding branches of the trees. Iris and daffodils raised their bright faces in greeting, and the entire forest came to life once more.

Like the forest, so too did Thranduil’s heart respond to Arien’s call, opening itself as a budding rose unfolds to a tender caress. Each morning, he rose at dawn and set forth to commune with his beloved land. Along the forest paths he walked, his fingertips brushing the rough bark of each tree with loving care, his voice lifted in joyful song. For hours upon end, he lingered within the forest, at times even sleeping under the twinkling stars.

“The age of the Elves draws to a close, my King,” commented his closest advisor one bright morning. “The age of men is upon us. Few Elves remain in Arda. Won’t you sail West with the rest of your people?” Years earlier, Thranduil’s wife had sailed, partly due to his own insistence. Mirkwood was not a safe place, and he feared the worst would happen. Even now, Thranduil missed her, yet he knew he had no choice but to let her go.

“Nay, I shall linger in Arda,” he replied after some deliberation. “I am devoted to the Greenwood, and it to me. We are one in spirit, heart and soul. I shall not leave it to fall into ruin once more.”

So Thranduil alone remained, despite ardent pleas from his advisors and friends to sail with them to the White Shores. As the weeks passed, he found he missed them little, if at all, instead finding fulfilment and contentment within the woods of Mirkwood.

~*~

Elrond stood on the balcony of his suite, nestled on the top floor of the Last Homely House. Though Sauron’s powerful grip had been shattered, sadness still remained in his heart. Celebrían, his beloved wife, had set sail years earlier, unable to recover from the horrific attack of Orcs. Even now, Elrond missed her companionship, the passage of years doing little to assuage his guilt and loneliness. It was the loneliness that he felt most acutely, especially in the evening.

He sighed deeply, letting his gaze wander over the moonlit gardens. Over the past few months, he had felt peculiar stirrings in his soul, an odd restlessness in his spirit that seemed vaguely familiar. His daily walks became longer and more far-flung, spreading from the Northern borders to the banks of the river. On more than one occasion, Erestor had to send guards out to fetch him and bring him back to the house when he did not reappear by nightfall. Whispered rumours floated among the household staff. Elves began to talk, wondering aloud if Elrond was indeed himself. After several weeks, Erestor decided the time had come to confront his dear friend.

“Elrond,” he said quietly as he stepped out onto the balcony. “I fear you are not well. For weeks now you have seemed agitated, restless, and out of sorts. I am worried about you. Forgive me for being bold, My Lord, but I think perhaps you should consider sailing for Valinor. There is a caravan for the port leaving tomorrow evening.”

Elrond turned to face his trusted advisor, his grey eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Erestor, it is indeed time for me to depart. I have known for some time, I think, but hearing your words made me realise that the day is upon me.”

“Wonderful, Lord Elrond. I shall let Glorfindel know you will be among the Elves leaving on the morrow.”

“No, Erestor,” replied Elrond, laying a calm hand on his advisor’s shoulder. “I will not be accompanying them.”

“But, My Lord…you just said you agreed it was time to depart.”

Elrond smiled and crossed the balcony into his sitting room, where he lingered in front of a small wooden box. Carefully, he pulled back the lid and held a dried flower to his nose. Though the fragrance had long since evaporated, the memory of the bloom itself remained vivid and sharp: Hope blossoms eternal in the heart of Mirkwood. “Indeed it is time for me to bid my farewell to Imaldris, but I will not sail. I have other matters that require my attention,” he said softly.

~*~

A soft nicker interrupted Elrond’s pensive mood. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” He patted the horse’s neck affectionately and reassured him, saying, “We will stop for the night. I, too, grow weary from the journey.”

For days, Elrond had pushed his loyal stallion nearly to breaking point, stopping only when the exhausted animal could not continue. The horse gratefully took his rest; Elrond, however, found sleep to be elusive at best. Dreams, both frightening and wondrous, plagued his slumber, making true rest impossible. When he did manage to drift into reverie for a few precious moments, he was quickly jolted awake by the mad thumping of his galloping heart.

On this particular evening, the familiar rhythm pounded in his ears like a tribal drum heard in the villages of men.

Ca-thump… Ca-thump.

Nothing – not even prayer or thoughtful meditation – relieved the constant pounding. “I need a walk,” he said aloud, throwing back the blanket that covered his legs. The fire had burned down to a faint glow of embers, and he crept past it into the dark woods. Clad only in his sleeping tunic and leggings, he picked his way along the pathway, the prickly leaves and cool grass tickling his bare feet with each careful step.

Ca-thump… Ca-thump.

If anything, the beating of his heart felt heavier, stronger, echoing loudly in his ears. His pulse raced, bringing a heated flush to his cheeks. “What is this madness?” he asked himself, pressing his cool fingertips to his burning cheeks.

Up ahead, the pathway opened into a moonlit clearing, a grassy hilltop encircled by towering trees. Elrond crept to the edge of the tree line, peering out from behind an expansive oak into the grassy haven. In the centre of it stood a lone Elf, his skin bare and bathed in Ithil’s glow, his face turned upward in worshipful reverence.

Immediately, Elrond fell to his knees. “A Vala,” he whispered. “Yes, it must be, for no mere Elf could be as fair.”

Truly, he was breathtaking. Shimmering ribbons of silver wove through his hair, which hung in pale ropes down his back. On his upper arms gleamed bands of pure mithril, and from each ear dangled teardrop charms of sparkling sapphire and amethyst. Elrond felt he should turn and leave the Elf to his prayers, but found himself unable to move, transfixed by the vision of beauty before him.

A strong clear voice raised a hymn, as lovely as any song Elrond had ever heard.

For the beauty of the Night
Of stars and clouds and radiant light;
For the stillness of the air;
For the wood which is so fair;
For the glory of the skies
Which over and around me lies;
Lord of All to thee I raise
This my hymn of grateful praise.

Then, as Elrond knelt at the base of the oak, the Elf turned and spoke his name aloud. “Elrond. Come and join me.”

“Thranduil,” he breathed, scarcely able to believe his eyes. The feral Elf he had known in his youth now stood before him, gloriously unclothed yet as regal as any king. Wordlessly, Elrond rose, his eyes fixed on Thranduil.

For several minutes, the pair stood, side by side gazing up at the night sky in reverent wonder. Finally, Thranduil spoke, saying, “I thought you would sail, mellon.”

“I could not. I felt compelled to remain. Something drew me here, to this place.” His grey eyes blinked slowly as they met those of Thranduil. “And now that I am here, the feelings only grow more intense. My heart beats as though it would leap out of my chest.”

“You still feel it, then. The rhythm of life itself. The lifeblood of Arda.” Thranduil smiled as he took Elrond’s hand and placed it over his heart.

Elrond gasped sharply, amazed that the pounding in his ears beat in time with the gentle thumps that vibrated under his fingertips. Shocked, he opened his mouth to speak, but Thranduil silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“Do not speak. Do not think. Feel, Elrond. Close your eyes and open your heart.”

Elrond’s eyes fluttered closed. Warm arms encircled him from behind and he leaned back against Thranduil’s firm chest.

“Do you remember when last you were here? Little has changed for you,” Thranduil remarked softly, as he slipped his hand beneath Elrond’s loose nightshirt. “Even now, you wear your mantle of strict formality as surely as if it were a woollen cloak. Heavy it lies on your shoulders. Release it. The time for duty has passed, my friend.”

The fluid garments fluttered to the dewy grass, pooling at Elrond’s feet. How exactly Thranduil had removed them was unclear, but as they fell away, Elrond felt as if his very soul had been laid bare. “If it were only that easy to shrug off the weight of my responsibilities,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

“As garments encased your body, so do shackles chain your spirit. Only you have the power to remove them. Give wings to your spirit and allow it to fly where it will.”
Once more, strong arms encircled him and he shivered as Thranduil’s warm breath ghosted past his ear. “The Age of Elves has ended. All around us, we witness the rise of the Age of Men, as they set about building legacies and establishing kingdoms. What further responsibilities have we here? Our loved ones finally are safe and secure in the White Shores. This time left in Arda is ours, Elrond. Ours to do with as we please, after millennia of executing battles, negotiations and duties that our titles required. Now, finally, we have been blessed with the opportunity to fulfil the desires of our own hearts, rather than the requirements of our respective offices.”

Sweet realisation and cool relief washed over Elrond like a soothing balm. For the first time since he had reached majority, he was his own Elf, beholden to no one and free to do whatever he chose. “I never dreamed this day would come,” he frankly admitted. “It has been so long since I allowed myself such freedom that I scarcely know what to do.”

“May I offer a suggestion?” Thranduil’s fingertips danced along the blunt curve of Elrond’s jaw, turning his lovely face to his. Green eyes, deep and smouldering, pierced him with a look of such caged longing that Elrond’s breath caught in his chest. Warm lips brushed over his, kissing him tenderly, languidly, yet he could sense the reckless abandon that prowled just below the surface.

“…I,” began Elrond breathlessly. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he stared into the eyes of temptation personified. All of the sudden, years melted away, and he stood on the balcony once more, in the presence of a wild and beautiful woodland prince. It was at that moment he knew his heart’s desire.

“Yes.”

The word had barely escaped his lips when Thranduil crushed him in a passionate embrace, kissing him with such heated yearning that Elrond thought he might melt from pure desire. Thranduil tasted of warm honey and clover as his soft tongue gently rolled over his own.

The ground tilted precariously beneath them, shifting and shivering dangerously with each stroke of calloused fingertips across sensitive flesh. Above them the, stars twirled and spun just over their heads. Elrond closed his eyes, drowning in a warm sea of succulent kisses and sinful caresses.

“Thranduil,” he breathed, clinging to him as everything else spun wildly out of control.

“I am here,” came the whispered reply.

The grass felt cool and damp against Elrond’s back as strong hands gently lowered him to the ground. He dared not open his eyes lest this wondrous dream end. Warm kisses rained down on his fevered skin like a cool spring shower at midday. Each delicate lave of a silky tongue awakened his senses, quickened his nerves until they stood on end, pleading silently for still more. Not an inch of his glistening skin went untouched, uncaressed, unloved.

When at last Thranduil’s lips reached their destination, Elrond surrendered completely and without hesitation. Liquid silk enveloped him, sending shimmering ripples of rapture throughout his body. His hands tore at the grass, ripping out huge chunks of it as Thranduil continued a glorious assault on his body. Fevered need shivered through him. Wicked lips drew him to the precipice where he dangled and twisted on the edge of bliss.

“Elrond…”

“Yes,” he gasped, opening his grey eyes. The hazy vision of a wood Elf, feral and wanton, floated in front of him.

Then suddenly, Elrond was falling…falling over the edge of a high cliff and into the vast unknown. The spirit of the forest itself filled him, singing to him in melodies unknown, whispering promises of undying love and passion. His body seemed to move of its own accord, rising and falling as a wave on the ocean responding to Ithil’s voice. If he had experienced such pleasure before, he couldn’t recall it. Everything burdensome and troubling faded and fell away as withering leaves in the autumn. Only the true desires of his heart remained, and he yielded to them completely, without reservation. Higher he soared, lifted on gossamer wings of sheer pleasure, feeling as if the stars themselves anointed his body.

“I love you, Elrond. I always have.”

Those words unleashed a part of his soul he had never realized he held back. A river of emotions flooded through him, breaking any final links of the chains that had fettered his heart for so long.

When at last his body and soul drifted slowly back down to earth, Elrond smiled up at Thranduil and pushed a lock of golden hair back from his damp forehead. “Still as untamed and beautiful as a wild rose growing in a thicket. How is it that the steady march of time and sorrow did not rob you of your reckless nature?”

“I performed my duties to the best of my ability. I defended this land and her Elves. I wore the crown of Mirkwood, Elrond…but I refused to let it define who I was. I am, for now and for always, a simple wood Elf.”

Elrond’s eyes clouded over, but Thranduil placed a hand on his cheek and forced him to meet his gaze. “That is all we are: simple Elves who chose to remain in Arda. Elves with no duties or responsibilities to any, save each other. Do you remember the vow we made so many years ago?”

Elrond blinked, and Thranduil smiled at him. “Stay with me here in Mirkwood. I will show you secret places and make you a crown of flowers. We will run through the forests and play among the trees. Stay and fulfil the desires of your heart.”

Instead of replying, Elrond rose and took Thranduil’s hand, leading him silently along the forest trail, back to the dark campsite. After a few moments of purposeful digging, Elrond pulled out a small wooden box and handed it to Thranduil.

“What’s this?” he asked, tracing the design etched into the stained wood.

“Open it.”

Carefully, Thranduil pulled back the lid of the box. Inside, nestled on a fine satin cloth, lay a dried flower. He raised quizzical eyes to Elrond, who smiled at him.

“Hope blossoms eternal in the heart of Mirkwood…or so I am told.”

Thranduil’s eyes flicked in amazement between the small bloom and Elrond’s smiling face. “You kept this for all of those years… Why?”

“It gave me hope during a time when hope was difficult to find. I treasured it above all else.”

Gently, Thranduil lifted the delicate flower from its nest and kissed the fragile petals, before placing it back in the box. “Such precious memories are to be cherished, but I desire to forge new memories.”

Hand in hand, they left the small camp and set off into the wild forest, ready to face whatever lay before them…together.


The End

Rating: NC17
Pairing: Thranduil/Elrond
Beta: The lovely and talented Enismirdal
Warning: Two hot male elves doing what comes naturally
Disclaimer: Characters are all Tolkien’s not ours, we are just playing with them and will put them back nicely afterwards.
Timeline: Pre and post fellowship

Summary: Elrond and Thranduil discover a connection to each other and to the forest of Mirkwood.

Comments

[jaiden-s.livejournal.com]

Lovely story! :P

[sildil]

LOL, why thank you!

[maldaeien.livejournal.com]

*falls to your feet* It's one of the greatest stories I ever read in my life! Do more! You really have to do more stories together, it is awesome, so full of feelings! It has cheered me up completely!
*clings to both, huggles and cuddles them*
You are the 'proud'(?) owners of a stalker now :P

Maldy

[sildil]

Thank you Malda! I am honoured, and I shall pass your comment to Jai as well! *bows*

[jaiden-s.livejournal.com]

*grins*
Thank you! I've never had a stalker before...
((hugs stalker))

[maldaeien.livejournal.com]

*huggles Jaiden tightly back* Let the merry writer-stalker relationship begin! :P

Maldy

[sildil]

Woohoo!

[myth-adventure.livejournal.com]

Haven't read many elf stories lately but this one proved to be just irresistible! I especially love how you got Elrond and Thranduil to stay behind when most other elves have left ... hidden from the world as it moves on, free to roam their beloves woodlands. Forever if they choose. Just about brought a tear to my eyes (OK, so it actually did :).

Hope you don't mind if I friend you, I'd love to see what you come up with in the future.

[sildil]

I'm really glad you enjoyed it! And by all means friend away, hope you like the drawing I did for Jai's birthday to accompany it!

[jaiden-s.livejournal.com]

*grins*
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it! We had a TON Of fun writing it.

[say-aye.livejournal.com]

LOVE IT! LOVE IT! LOVE IT! LOVE IT! Hee, but I think you already know that. ;D

[sildil]

Thanks Say, and yes I do know it! I am really glad, and so is Jai!