Hear Me Out 1

By Orchyd Constyne


Elrond sat at the desk in his private study.  The Council had gone somewhat better than he had hoped.  They would destroy the One Ring. All he had to do was choose the nine to go on the Quest.

He rubbed his temples.  He knew who he wanted to send.  It wasn't difficult for him.  The Dwarf, Gimli, would go.  Frodo and Sam already agreed and so had Gandalf.  Aragorn and Boromir would travel as far as Minas Tirith and that left three positions. The cousins of Frodo would do, he supposed... but the Elf...

Legolas.  He had arrived a few days prior to the Council.  Elrond stood and walked to the small balcony outside the study and looked out over the main lawns of The Last Homely House.  He could see the Hobbits and the Men on one of the lawns, playing some game to pass the time.  Casting his eyes to the farthest corner, he saw his sons and the gleaming head of gold between them.

His sons would never forgive him.  His lover would never forgive him. Had five centuries really have passed them all by?  Elladan and Elrohir had had five hundred years with their lover, would that have been enough if the Elf should fall while fulfilling his task in the Quest?  Would his sons survive the loss of Legolas?  So many questions, but he had no other choice.  Legolas was the right Elf to send with the Company, there was no other way.

Thranduil should be here, he thought.  He should see his son before the Prince leaves.  Elrond chewed his lip.  The Mirkwood King would be furious.  His love for Legolas was almost an obsession.  Their bond was strong and Thranduil would feel this was a betrayal by the Peredhel.  What neither his sons nor his lover would understand was how much his own heart broke at the mere thought of Arda losing the light that shone in Legolas.  The Imladris Lord had grown to love the Sinda Elf as if he were his own child.

He could not put this off any longer.  Elrond allowed his mind to become clear, his breathing to calm and cast himself out to the East, to a lonely, dark Wood where his love resided.

Erestor entered the study, carrying several books and scrolls.  The Councilor opened his mouth but shut it quickly.  Elrond stood on his veranda, still and quiet, looking out over the land.  The dark-haired Noldo approached his Lord carefully and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the metallic quality Elrond's grey eyes had taken.  The Peredhel was speaking to Galadriel or Thranduil.

Elrond knew Erestor had seated himself a few feet away, but he was otherwise engaged.

Thranduil, you must calm yourself.

Calm myself?!  Elrond, you cannot do this.

I do what is necessary to save our world, melethron.

At the expense of my son!

I look upon him as my son, as well, Thranduil.  Do you think this was simple for me to decide?

Have you told him?

Not yet.  I don't want to until we are ready to send them on the Quest.  But, I wanted you to know from me, not a messenger or through gossip.

Well, thank you for that courtesy.

Elrond flinched at the tone Thranduil's thoughts had taken.  The brief mental images he received did nothing to settle his conscience, either. I am sorry, A'maelamin.

There was no reply, no thought of love or parting, just an emptiness where his love had severed their connection.  He blinked a few times, clearing the doubts from his eyes and turned a sad smile to Erestor. "Thranduil will arrive within the week.  Please ready his room."

Erestor looked at his friend with an odd expression.  "Meldir, Thranduil has not used 'his room' in centuries beyond counting. He
shares your suite."

Leaving the balcony, Elrond sighed.  "Not this time."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thranduil urged his horse into a full run, trying to reach Imladris by sundown.  He knew the stallion was exhausted, but he needed to see Elrond, needed his son.  He had been ignoring Elrond's gentle attempts to speak with him, his anger clouding rational thought.  As he crossed the borders of Rivendell, though, the gentle attempts became one massive push that nearly caused him to pass out.

Thranduil!  You will listen to me, or I will have you barred from these lands!

Thranduil bared his teeth, his now silver eyes gleaming in the dying sun.  Try it, Peredhel, and I will be back with an army.  He made sure his thoughts swam with red mist, that his mind-voice growled with pent-up rage.

Do not presume to threaten me, King of Mirkwood!

I presume nothing.

You will behave while in this House, Thranduil.  I am not prepared to tell Legolas this decision and you will not do so before I have had a chance to speak with the boy.

How dare you tell me what I shall and shall not do, Half-Elf?

I dare because I love you as much as I love Legolas and this is difficult enough without you storming in here and raising havoc where nerves are already frayed.  Now, swear to me you will abide my wishes or I will have you turned back *now*.

Thranduil sent a wordless reply of agreement and felt Elrond recede from his mind, leaving him in relative peace.

Elrond Peredhel.  Thranduil's emerald eyes glittered with repressed emotion.  It physically pained him to be so furious with the Half-Elf. Their bond was strong.  Although he had thought to bind himself to Elrond on that long-ago night in Imladris when he found the dark-haired Lord with Gil-Galad, it was too late.  His Fëa had found its mate in Elrond and they were forever tied. Over the last five hundred years, that bond had been reinforced and strengthened.

How the Imladris Lord could, in good faith, send Legolas on a mission that would surely claim the Elf's life...  Thranduil spurred his mount on, determined to stop Elrond from making one more mistake in a long line that Elrond repeatedly made in the name of what he believed was right.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not realize that he had crossed the borders into the Imladris-controlled lands. When he heard the rustle of motion, his hand went immediately to his sword. Then Glorfindel and Elladan appeared from out of the woods, and Thranduil relaxed, feeling a little embarrassed at being so jumpy.  The escort took up their positions on either side of him and brought him to the stables in silence.

"My Lord Thranduil, what has brought you to Imladris?" Elladan finally said once they had reached their destination.

"I have come to speak with Lord Elrond," he said simply, dismounting quickly though gracefully.  "Where is he?"

Glorfindel's blazing gaze met the King's.  "He is in his study, Thranduil," the Balrog-slayer said tensely.  "Follow me."  The Elda turned to lead Thranduil to Elrond when he noticed Elladan following them.  "Elladan, your presence here is not required.  Go back out to finish the patrols or assign someone else to do it.  I care not."

Elladan looked stunned.  Glorfindel had never spoken to him in such a short, clipped tone, and it irked Elladan.  He glowered at his old tutor and stormed off in the direction of one of the Eastern gardens that he knew Legolas and his twin frequented.

Thranduil walked in step with the Imladris Seneschal.  "Is there something wrong, my Lord?" he inquired.

"Wrong?  What could be wrong, Thranduil?  Elrond has decided to send your son, the twins' love, off on some foolish quest that is likely to get all nine of them killed.  In his infinite wisdom, our Lord has decided a Mirkwood Elf who has spent his two thousand odd years of life defending your Wood is equipped enough to represent our entire race.  So, you ask if something is wrong and I must say yes, meldir."

Thranduil was silent for a moment, considering the words just spat at him.  "Do I detect notes of bitterness, Lord Glorfindel?"

"No."

"I think I do.  You are offended Elrond did not ask you."

Glorfindel stopped in front of the massive carved oak door and motioned for Thranduil to enter.  "I hope your stay in Imladris is productive, my Lord." With that, the golden-haired Elf turned on his heel and walked swiftly away.

*****

"So, let me get this straight.  You are sending my son -- my youngest son, heart of my heart, and incidentally, your sons' lover -- to the stronghold of Sauron *in possession* of that which the Dark Lord desires most.  To accompany him, you are sending the son of the Steward of Gondor, the rightful *heir* to Gondor (and your daughter's betrothed), a grubby little Dwarf who happens to be the son of Gloin -- a *famous* grubby little Dwarf, a 'relative' of Bilbo Baggins, his two cousins, and his *gardener*!"

Elrond's voice was meek in the large room.  "Technically, Legolas would be accompanying Frodo.  Frodo is the Ringbearer."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed.  "You gave.  The Ring.  To the *Hobbit*?!"

"He volunteered."

"Of course he did!  He's Bilbo's relative!  That damned Halfling was the greediest little snake I ever met!"

Elrond looked up with a sudden spark of remembrance.  "Mithrandir's going with them, as well."

"Mithrandir?!  That scheming little wizard?  Bah!  Parlor tricks and fireworks are supposed to keep those nine safe all the way to Orodruin?"

The Lord of Imladris hung his head again.  "Seven.  The Men are only going as far as Minas Tirith."

"You didn't think this through very well, did you?"  Thranduil threw his hands up in frustration.  He turned his back on his lover and said, without looking at Elrond, "Tell me why I should not grab my son, ride back to Mirkwood, lock my realm up tighter than Moria, and prepare to send my army out to begin the next Kinslaying."

"Because you trust me."  The statement was presumptuous, egotistical, and arrogant.  It was also true.

Thranduil still did not turn around.  "Yes.  I trust you, meleth.  Of course I do; I love you.  That does not mean that I have to like you very much right now.  Or indeed, ever again."

Elrond watched helplessly as the Mirkwood King strode out of the library as though he was being chased by a horde of Balrogs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thranduil more or less kept his own counsel over the next two weeks, although Legolas was seen with him often as well.  The two Mirkwood Elves did not consciously avoid the Imladris ruling family, but neither did they go out of their way to spend time with their respective partners.

Which is why the King was so surprised when Elladan and Elrohir sought him out during a walk through the orchards.  The two approached slowly, unsure of Thranduil's mood or receptivity to company.  When they were close enough to not have to shout, Elladan ventured, "My Lord Thranduil, might we steal a few moments of your time?"

Thranduil sighed, although he was inwardly thankful of the opportunity for some company.  Most of those in Imladris knew of his relationship with Elrond, had gleaned their recent falling-out, and were consequently avoiding the Sinda.  A chance for contact with someone other than his son was quite welcome, therefore.

"It is about your son," Elrohir clarified.

Thranduil realized he had been ruminating and had not responded when Elladan first spoke.  He cleared his throat.  "Of course. Legolas. What can I help you with?"

The twins looked between themselves, not certain of where to begin. Elrohir finally said, "We continue to hurt him, and we know not why."

"He envies our connection, we know," Elladan continued, "but this feels like more than just that."

"He's holding something back from us.  We don't know what."

Thranduil nodded with a heavy sigh.  "You are describing Oropher's Curse, I'm afraid.  That is the name we give to this malady that plagues all the males of my father's line.  We are glacially slow to give our hearts to anyone, and even then, we only give by halves.  The fear of rejection seems destined to be bred into the descendants of Oropher until the end of Arda."

"Is there aught you can say to assist us?  We fear that we will be parted soon, and we do not wish that parting to be on poor terms."

Thranduil started at Elrohir's words.  Did the younger twin suspect the King's true reason for being in Imladris?  Thranduil did not think so, but he still avoided responding to that line of thought.  Instead, he focused on the first part of the Peredhel's statement.  "Frankly, I am surprised that Legolas shows as much attachment to you as he does after such a relatively short time. I had hopes that he would not be affected as I was by the curse of my father.  Alas, it seems not to be.  In such a case, the only thing I can offer you is this: my son is very bright.  He will realize soon enough how important you are to him and he to you.  He is too smart to allow such a meaningful relationship to be tossed away."

The twins bowed their heads, touching their hands to their foreheads and chests.  "Thank you, Lord Thranduil," they said together, turning around and walking back toward the gates of the orchard.

Just before they left the close quarters of the sparse opening, though, Elladan stopped and turned around.  "My Lord?"

"Yes?"

"We think you're quite bright yourself."  The elder twin turned around again and sprinted after his brother.

Thranduil smiled softly and turned to leave the courtyard as well. His thoughts drifted to his son.  The great king felt that some of Legolas' faults were because of him.  Legolas had been an unexpected child, one that Thranduil nor his wife had tried to conceive.  There was a large age gap between his middle and youngest son, and Thranduil had spoiled Legolas.  His wife had coddled the Elfling and Thranduil had given into any and all of the small child's demands.

He was sure that over the centuries Legolas had equated love with undivided attention.  That was what Thranduil had given him.  It was only when he took Elrond as his lover once again that he made the discovery that Legolas had a warped sense of love and affection.  And it was his fault.

The King sighed.  Hopefully, the twins could undo his years of damage. He had thought he was doing right by his youngest, especially after his wife had left for Valinor.  Legolas was still but a child and needed the reassurance only Thranduil could offer. Now, not only was Legolas paying for the twisted upbringing, but so were Elladan and Elrohir.

*****

Elrond sat in the rapidly cooling bath water, unashamedly brooding. The One Ring was within his realm, and the forces of Sauron were no doubt gathering near.  Should he delay his decision in sending it on, Imladris would be besieged.  But if the Company he tapped for the quest were not ideal, he would be handing the Ring over to the Enemy.

And then there was Thranduil.  His lover was sleeping several doors down from his chambers: alone.  The last words they shared were in anger.  He couldn't say that he blamed the Mirkwood King; if Thranduil planned to send any of his children on a dangerous quest, Elrond knew that he would be more than a little upset as well.

But, Elbereth, it was hard being so close to the Elf he'd loved for so long and not be able to hold him or even touch him!  The Peredhel Lord had taken to wearing robes that were a size too large for him to hide the near-constant state of arousal that he was in just knowing that Thranduil was near.

Even now, he could feel himself stiffening under the water as memories came unbidden of past pleasures with the beautiful Sinda in this very room.  He shifted, and a sudden current of warm water washed across his cock, making Elrond shudder.  He brushed his fingertips across the tightly stretched skin and felt another satisfying shiver pass through him.  He made his decision quickly, sliding up onto the carved seat inside the bathing pool.  He was certainly not above a little self-love, and if it would ease the tension he was feeling, so much the better.

He began with long, slow strokes from the head all the way to the base and back up.  The motion sent eddies of water swirling across his skin, made sensitive by his heightened arousal.  He stroked himself this way for several minutes, keeping his grip loose, savoring the gentleness of the sensations.

Gradually, without any clear transition, he began to tighten his grip and stroke only the shaft of his cock.  His head fell back in pleasure, and his eyes closed.  Images floated through his mind as he sped up his motions: Thranduil's hands, Thranduil's mouth, his chest, his ass.  Thranduil pleasuring him; himself pleasuring Thranduil.  No other lover had as totally captured his heart and mind as the Mirkwood King had.  He was the only one that Elrond hungered for, the only one that Elrond could imagine himself with.

Soft moans punctuated Elrond's breathing as he worked his hand frantically along his shaft.  In his mind, he imagined Thranduil's hand in place of his own, imagined that he could feel the Elf-lord beside him, whispering words of love into his ear.  Elrond whispered his lover's name like a mantra: "Thranduil.  Oh, Thranduil."

His eyes were clenched shut so tightly that tears began to squeeze from the corners of his lids.  His entire body was trembling, and his breath was coming in swallows and gasps.  Elrond could hear his heart pounding in his ears like Orc drums.  He held himself at the moment of release as long as he could stand, then let himself go with an enormous cry of rapture.  His cock twitched and pulsed under the water, sending streams of his seed to mingle with the bath.

Elrond struggled to pull himself from the bathing pool.  His energy was drained, and his body was sated.  His mind, though, drew very little comfort from the act.  As he dried himself off and walked to his bed in the other room, all he could think, over and over, was that he had to reconcile with his lover, no matter what the cost.


Continued in Part Two

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