Hear Me Out 2

By Orchyd Constyne


Thranduil came into the cool courtyard, turning his face toward the sun and inhaling the deep, refreshing crisp air.  He and Elrond usually shirked responsibilities on days like this and walked through the wooded areas around The Last Homely House. Or, they would if Thranduil would at least *speak* with his lover.

A week had passed since Elladan had told him to seek out the Elf-lord, but Thranduil was proud.  He felt a strange sense of history repeating itself.  His pride kept him from Elrond for over two thousand years. Would it happen all over again?  He ached at the thought of never seeing his bonded again, never holding him in his arms.  But, at this moment, he was consumed with worry over his son.  And Elrond was the source of that worry.  If he would only choose someone else...

Thranduil knew that was a futile thought.

"Thranduil!  Elven-King!"

Thranduil turned and saw an old Hobbit slowly walking toward him, smiling broadly and carrying a red book.  Thranduil could not keep the smile from his lips at the sight.  "Bilbo, Elf-Friend."

Huffing, Bilbo climbed onto one of the stone benches near Thranduil and motioned for the King to join him.  Thranduil complied, fluidly sitting beside his long-time friend.  "You are looking well, Master Bilbo," he offered, gazing down at the age-ravaged Hobbit.

Bilbo scoffed.  "No, Elven-King, I am not.  I look old; there *are* mirrors here in Imladris.  But you, you have not aged a day since I saw you last."

Thranduil chuckled.  "Such is the way of the Elves, Master Bilbo."

They sat in companionable silence for some time, watching the beauty of the valley before them.  Finally, Thranduil turned to Bilbo once again, motioning at the large red book.  "Are you doing some reading in your Golden Years?"

Bilbo shook his head.  "No, this is the story of my adventure.  'There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale.' Would you like to read it?  Perhaps correct anything I missed about the part you played in the story?"

Thranduil smiled softly.  "No, Master Bilbo, I will not correct anything.  It is *your* story, not mine.  But, I would be honored to read it when I have a moment of peace to myself."

Bilbo nodded and put the book aside.  "I am planning my second novel now.  About the great Quest, since it is Frodo who will be the Ringbearer.  I should write it; keep it a part of our history.  Most of it will have to wait, though, since I can only write to the point where he will leave Rivendell."  Bilbo sighed sadly.

The Elf-lord looked away from his friend and decided to see how much Bilbo knew.  "Do you think Frodo will be sent alone?"

The Hobbit shook his head again.  "No, I know that Lord Elrond is sending Sam -- our old gardener -- and Gandalf with him."

Thranduil chuckled.  "You feel confident, then, that Frodo will be successful with the Wizard and your gardener?"

"No, I think Lord Elrond plans on sending others."  He thought for a moment.  "I think Lord Aragorn will be going with him, he seems anxious to leave here, and I would not doubt that his fate is somehow connected to the Ring.  Boromir will be leaving as well, heading back to Minas Tirith, so it would make sense to send him along, at least as far as Gondor."

"So, two Hobbits, a Wizard and two Men to protect your kin as far as Minas Tirith?"

"I also think he will be sending one of the Dwarves, probably the youngest one, Gloin's son... what was his name?"  Bilbo thought for a moment and then smiled brightly.  "Gimli!  Yes, I think he will send Gimli with them.  After all, Dwarves and Hobbits make a formidable combination, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would not dare not to," Thranduil said amiably.  "Do you think they will send an Elf with them as well, then?"  Thranduil kept his tone light, never looking at the wily Hobbit.

"I would think so.  For the Elves are skilled beyond any of the other companions and have very keen senses.  An Elf would be invaluable to Frodo."

"Have you thought about who Elrond would send?"

The familiar tone and way King Thranduil spoke the Imladris Lord's name made Bilbo smile faintly.  He had thought there was more to the two Elves than met the eye.  But, both Lords had been very edgy and avoided one another since Thranduil's arrival. Bilbo couldn't really understand why, but knew it was not his place to discuss the private matters of the Mirkwood King.  "I have thought some," he said after a few moments.

"And your conclusions?"

"Well, it would be an obvious choice to send Lord Glorfindel.  He is an accomplished warrior, someone who has been to the Halls of Mandos and back.  He would be an excellent companion."

My thoughts exactly, thought Thranduil, feeling a bit smug now that someone else had voiced what he had always thought.

"But, he would also draw much attention.  He is a renowned warrior, after all, and I believe evil would be drawn to him.  I do not think Lord Elrond will send his Seneschal.  My next thought had been one or both his sons, since Lord Elrond would not put his own desires above those of the common good.  Same problem as Lord Glorfindel, though."

Thranduil was surprised.  The Hobbit was quite intuitive and made very good points.  Which made the Elf quite irate.

"Lords Elladan and Elrohir are great Orc slayers; Isengard knows them by name.  They would be a danger to the company, not a safeguard. Also, I am sure that the White Wizard knows the Ring has made it here and is sending something nasty to retrieve it.  Therefore, it would be in Imladris' best interest to keep the twin sons here for her defense."

Damn him, thought Thranduil as his thoughts darkened further with each revelation.

"That leaves us very few Lord Elrond would entrust such an endeavor to.  Lord Erestor is no longer a warrior.  I am sure he is still as fit and deadly as he once was, but he is needed here as the Chief Councilor, not a warrior.  Lord Elrond cannot leave Imladris, or I am sure he would have sent himself.  That is the extent of the Elves here in Rivendell that I believe could be sent on such a Quest, and each one -- for their own reason or another -- would not be the Lord's choice.  I do wonder who he will send, then..."  Bilbo trailed off, his mind wandering through the Elves he knew in Rivendell.  "Unless," he said, looking into the cool green eyes of the Elf-King, "you are here as the one Lord Elrond chose."

Thranduil could not help the laughter that erupted from him.  "No, Master Bilbo, I am not here to go on such a Quest.  I came to offer my counsel on such a thing, not volunteer my skills.  Besides, Dol Guldur has awakened, and my woods are in danger.  I cannot linger here much longer; my kingdom needs its King."

Bilbo nodded in understanding.  "Then I wonder who Lord Elrond will ask..."

Thranduil sighed.  He knew.  He knew Elrond was right.  Legolas was the only logical choice, Bilbo had made that clear to him. But, Thranduil was an Elf filled with pride and it was that pride that kept him from rushing to Elrond in that moment of realization and apologizing for hurting his bonded.

No, he would wait for Elrond to come to him.

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

But Elrond did not come to him.  Not even after the formal announcement of the Fellowship.  Suddenly, everything became terribly real for the Elven King.  It was no longer some unspecified date that would send his son away; now it was a mere seven days before Legolas would depart.  Thranduil feared all the more for his child's life, and he sank into a dreadful melancholy at the thought that he would lose Legolas in the coming struggle.

Imladris was asleep for the most part, but Thranduil sat alone in a corner of the library.  The candle beside him had dwindled down to almost nothing, throwing long, flickering shadows against the bookshelves.  He had long ago given up the pretense of reading; now, he merely stared at the wall, unmoving, unblinking.  The thought consumed him: "When all has come to pass, will there even be a body for me to lay to rest?"

The creak of the door being pushed open startled Thranduil from his brooding.  He turned his chair and noticed that he was no longer alone.  The figure started as he noticed the Sinda.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't realize anyone was in here."

Thranduil recognized the voice.  "Melpomaen?"

"King Thranduil?" the Noldo replied, surprised.  Melpomaen had been a liaison to Imladris in the Mirkwood court for over a century, but that was over 500 years ago.  He had even been the King's sometime lover during that time.  They had come together several times during his stay, not out of love, but merely from simple affection, desire, mutual admiration, and loneliness.  Neither had ever read more into their arrangement than was there, or wished for more than they had, and their last parting had been on pleasant terms.

Thranduil turned around more fully and Melpomaen stepped into the dim light of the library, closing the door.  He saw that his old friend was barely dressed, only a simple dressing gown hanging open and a pair of thread-bare leggings.  His long dark hair was loose and slightly mussed, and his slender feet were bare and paying no heed to the cool stone floor.

Melpomaen cleared his throat uncomfortably, aware of his unkempt appearance.  "I... was just coming to return this book before I went to sleep.  I know that if I didn't do it now, I would forget by the morning.  You know how I am; how long did it take me to learn the way from my bedchambers to your throne room?"

Thranduil chuckled, in spite of himself.  "Well, to be fair, you were being constantly confused, since more than once, you had to find your way there from *my* bedchambers."

"Well, yes, there *was* that."  The Advisor shelved the leather-bound tome and turned back toward the Mirkwood King.  "I don't know whether to congratulate you or offer you my sympathies.  About Legolas, I mean," he hastily amended.

"To be honest, I'm not certain myself," Thranduil said, a world-weary fatigue evident in his voice.

Melpomaen's heart ached to see his former lover in such pain.  He stepped lightly across the room and sat in a chair near Thranduil.  He placed a hand on Thranduil's knee and asked, "Want to talk?"

"What's there to say?"

"You're afraid you're going to lose him."  It wasn't a question.

"How can I not be?  The last time the Enemy was in power, I lost a father.  Shall I be forced to lose a son as well?"

"I wish I knew what to say to comfort you in your need, meldir."

Thranduil placed his hand on Melpomaen's.  "We never needed words before."

"No, but now you are with Lord Elrond, and I would not betray him."

"I fear there is precious little left to betray, voronwer."

"Even so, King Thranduil, what you are suggesting..."

Melpomaen never got a chance to finish his thought, because at that moment, Thranduil leaned forward across the space between them and kissed the Noldo deeply.  Melpomaen had not taken a lover for quite some time, and the sudden closeness of the Mirkwood King unleashed a flood of sense-memories that overwhelmed the Advisor, and he knew that he was lost.

*****

The pair burst through the door of Thranduil's quarters in a tangled mass of limbs.  Melpomaen's dressing gown hit the ground first, followed by Thranduil's robe and tunic.  The Mirkwood King fumbled with the ties on Melpomaen's leggings until the Advisor reached down, gripped the fabric with both hands, and ripped.  The fabric split down the middle and drifted to the floor as rags.

The two Elves fell onto the bed, and Thranduil immediately moved to devour Melpomaen's quivering erection.  Melpomaen gasped in surprise and pleasure, coaxing Thranduil's legs up toward his head.  He pulled the ties on the King's leggings loose with ease and pulled the breeches down, sucking Thranduil's firm cock into his mouth in one motion.

Thranduil moaned against Melpomaen's rod, and the sensations caused the Noldo to do the same.  The two Elves drew each other's arousals deeper into their mouths, groaning in unison.  Thranduil's mouth plunged down again and again in a feverish pace, while Melpomaen held Thranduil deep against the back of his throat and played his tongue along the shaft, paying special attention to the soft spot on the underside of the swollen head.

The Mirkwood King rolled Melpomaen onto his back, climbing on top of the dark-haired Elf.  He continued to pump his mouth up and down on Melpomaen's cock as he also began to thrust down into the Advisor's mouth.  Melpomaen hungrily accepted the Sinda's rod with great slurping noises as his mouth watered in anticipation.

Thranduil had other plans, though.  He rolled off of Melpomaen, releasing the Noldo's staff from his mouth.  Before Melpomaen could protest, though, Thranduil moved the Advisor onto his stomach, then gripped his hips and pulled him onto his hands and knees.  The blonde moved behind Melpomaen, caressing the skin of his former lover's buttocks.  He spread Melpomaen's cheeks with his hands and dipped his head down, pressing his tongue flat against the puckered flesh of Melpomaen's rear entrance.

Melpomaen gasped and shuddered at the sudden contact.  He felt Thranduil's tongue lightly brushing all around the crevasse of his ass, and he shivered in desire.  The tip of that talented tongue tracked its way down to the base of Melpomaen's balls, and the Noldo moaned.  Thranduil flicked his tongue across the orbs briefly before drawing his tongue back up to the tight orifice. He pushed his tongue against the opening and felt the muscle give way as Melpomaen gave a pleasured sigh and allowed Thranduil entrance.

Thranduil worked his tongue deeper into Melpomaen's ass, remembering how the Noldo had been enraptured of the sensation the first time that Thranduil had shown him this particular trick.  He remembered Melpomaen's scent, the feel of his skin, and the taste of his lips. It had all come back to him in an instant, those memories he had not dwelt upon for centuries.  He could close his eyes and pretend that he was back in Mirkwood and almost a millennium in the past, with no thought or concern of the morning or of anyone else's feelings but his own and his current partner's.

The Elven King had long ago gotten into the practice of keeping a container of a sweet-scented oil near his bed, even when he traveled. It was for this bottle that he reached, retrieving it from the bedside table.  He poured a little on Melpomaen's behind, letting the slick substance run sensually between his cheeks before spreading the liquid with his fingers.  Melpomaen's rear had been gently opened by Thranduil's tongue already, so the dark-haired Advisor felt only pleasure as the Sinda slipped first one finger, then a second down into the tight passage.  He worked his fingers expertly, coaxing Melpomaen into an even more heightened state of arousal.  The Noldo rocked his hips, thrusting back onto Thranduil's fingers, his hand flying to his own cock and stroking it slowly but firmly.

Thranduil removed his fingers and poured more of the oil into the palm of his hand, which he then worked into the tight skin of his straining erection.  He braced against Melpomaen's hips with one hand and used the other to gently guide his cock into the Advisor's waiting entrance.

Melpomaen hissed slightly at the intrusion, but forced himself to relax and gradually worked Thranduil's ample shaft all the way inside him.  Thranduil paused once he was inside the tight vessel, giving Melpomaen's body a chance to adjust and for the small amount of pain to recede.  He did not have to ask Melpomaen when he was ready; the Sinda knew this Elf's body well enough to simply *know*.  When he was certain that Melpomaen was prepared, Thranduil began to thrust his slick cock into Melpomaen's ass in a slow, easy rhythm.

The Noldo was already gasping for breath between quiet moans when Thranduil began thrusting.  Melpomaen pushed his hips back as the Sinda pushed forward, meeting Thranduil's thrust with a satisfying slap of flesh-on-flesh and burying the Mirkwood King's shaft deep inside of him.  His cock twitched in his hand with every thrust, sending even more pleasing tingles shooting through his body.

Despite their best efforts, the act was over sooner than either of them would have liked.  Knowing each other's bodies as well as they did was a curse as well as a blessing, especially when neither of them had shared a bed with another in quite some time. Thranduil gritted his teeth when he got that light-headed feeling that signaled his release was near.  He thought for a moment about stopping until he regained some control, but the familiarity of the contact and the intensity of the pleasure were simply too great, and he allowed himself to be consumed by the fire of orgasm, calling out the Advisor's name as he sent a stream of liquid heat shooting into Melpomaen's tender opening.

Melpomaen pressed himself back against Thranduil's hips as the Sinda filled him.  His hand jerked up and down furiously, and the Noldo gave an answering call of Thranduil's name as his body convulsed in orgasm. The milky-white fluid spurted from his pulsing organ onto the bedclothes as his movements contracted around Thranduil's cock, which only added to the pleasure of Melpomaen's release.

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

Elrond moved slowly through the halls.  He had not slept that night, just sat by his favorite waterfall and thought.  He had decided he needed to do as he decided weeks ago, talk to Thranduil and reconcile. He missed him terribly.  So, just before dawn, Elrond began his walk to Thranduil's rooms.

As he came around the corner that turned into the family wing, he stopped short.  His eyes grew wide and his breath came fast. He could not believe it.

Thranduil stood just outside his door, wearing the emerald silk dressing gown Elrond had given him three winters ago.  His love was smiling, his hand caressing the skin of his dark-haired advisor. Melpomaen was wearing one of Thranduil's other dressing gowns, his face flushed and his eyes slightly glazed.

Thranduil said something to the Elf, Melpomaen nodded and smiled wistfully.  Elrond felt faint when Thranduil leaned in and kissed his trusted friend, softly and thoroughly.  There was no mistake why the two Elves were in the state of dress they were in or why Melpomaen was slinking out of the King's rooms just as dawn broke.

When the kiss broke, Melpomaen quickly scurried down the hallway in the opposite direction of where Elrond stood.  He watched as Thranduil waited for the Noldo to have disappeared from sight before he returned to his room.  It was when he turned that he saw his lover, frozen and wide-eyed, at the mouth of the hallway.  Their eyes met -- sated, sad emeralds clashing with betrayed, raging silver.

Elrond did the only thing he could think to do.  He promptly turned and made his way back to his library.  He could not handle this right now, not with everything else going wrong with their world.  It was to his retreating back that he heard the emotionless, defeated thought from his lover, and only one thought, before he silenced Thranduil and barred him from his mind.

It was not his fault, Elrond.

*****

Thranduil settled into the seat of his mount.  His heart was heavy, he felt dirty and wrong.  And he knew he was.  He had betrayed Elrond just as he always thought Elrond had betrayed him.  What hurt the most was that Elrond had blocked Thranduil from him.  He took only a small comfort in the fact that they were bonded and that they *would* work through this.

He hoped.

Until then, he had a kingdom to rule, Elves to protect, and a son to mourn.  The squeezed his knees and his stallion obeyed, moving quickly through the main gates to the Last Homely House.  He told no one he was leaving, although he was sure Elrond knew.  Elrond knew all that went on in his lands.

For now, it was over.

*****

Elrond finished his correspondence and sighed heavily.  His eyes atched the retreating figure of his lover.  Thranduil was running again.  He shouldn't have expected much else from the great King, but he was disappointed that Thranduil hadn't even attempted to speak with him.

Wait, that wasn't fair.  Thranduil had and he had refused to hear him. The blocking of his mind to his love was a finality to Thranduil. Elrond would not hear him, would not understand, and he was right -- the Lord of Imladris wouldn't.  Not yet.

He looked up when the door opened and Melpomaen slinked in.  He looked tired and worn, guilt written across his features. His Advisor did not know Elrond knew of the night's activities and he wanted to see if his long-time friend would come clean about it.

"Good morning, Melpomaen," he said, smiling sadly.

Melpomaen looked at the floor, wringing his hands.  "Good morning, my Lord."  Melpomaen's voice, which was usually deep and soft, was harsh and broken this morning.  It concerned Elrond.  Thranduil said Melpomaen was not to be blamed, and he found he could not blame his employee for the indiscretion.  He knew deep down it was Thranduil's actions, not Melpomaen's, that hurt him.

"Is something wrong?  You look pale, meldir."

Melpomaen finally met the compassionate grey gaze of Elrond's, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.  "I'm sorry, my Lord.  I have done you a terrible wrong," he whispered.

Elrond rose from his seat and came to stand in front of the dark-haired Elf.  "What is it, Melpomaen?"

"I have spent the night in King Thranduil's bed," he said simply.

Elrond nodded.  "I know."

Melpomaen took in a sharp breath when Elrond embraced him lightly.  "I do not blame you, Melpomaen.  What has happened shall be dealt with between Thranduil and I.  Do not be so hard on yourself."

"But--"

"No, it is over."  He pulled back from the embrace.  "Take this day off, there is not much to do here; Erestor and I can handle the office this day."  Elrond returned to his seat, picking up his quill again.

Melpomaen began to walk out of the room, dazed and confused, when Elrond's voice stopped him once again.

"Why you, Melpomaen?"  A simple question and one the Advisor really didn't want to answer.

"While I was the Imladris Advisor in Mirkwood for a century, long ago, His Majesty and I shared his bed on many occasions." He kept his back to his Lord, not wanting to see his face.

"Were you in love?"

"No, it was never more than a meeting of two lonely Elves who took great pleasure and comfort in one another for a short period of time."

Elrond nodded, distancing himself from this revelation.  "You may go, Melpomaen.  And do not worry about running into the fair King.  He has taken his leave of Imladris."

And me, he thought sadly, returning to his work as his Advisor left him alone.


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