His father had been adamant and stern when he pushed the elegant parchment scroll into the hands of Prince Legolas, and despite his fear of its contents, the young Elf knew he wold obey his father's wishes. On the long journey to Rivendell, up the sheer flanks of Caradhras, through the dust of Moria, the note had burned a hole in his shirt, filling him with dread the closer the Fellowship drew to the realm of the Lady Galadriel. There had been times, lying awake at night or pacing on guard, when he had considered losing the letter and simply returning to Mirkwood, its contents forgotten. But in his heart he had known that to do so would be defying his own desires as well as his father's request, and the letter had come with him to the woods of Lorien. Now it had been handed to its intended recipient - via Haldir - and Legolas could only wait nervously for the next stage in the centuries-old galliard of etiquette and love.
The remainder of the Fellowship, unused to a life in the treetops, had opted to stay on the ground, and Legolas was grateful they had not chosen to follow him when he retired to a high flet to wait and think. He felt as though his whole future was out of control, that it had been handed over to someone else with no thought for his own feelings, save that his father thought he was ready. And all on a single sheet of paper, now clasped in the hands of the Lord of Lorien himself.
The letter was short and excessively formal, but such was the tradition for the request, even when it passed between friends of many centuries.
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"Lord Celeborn (the letter read), It has come to the notice of the World that my son, Prince Legolas, is now of age. Being fit of body, and posessing a fine character, he is most ready to confirm his maturity as an Elf. It is my duty to preserve his reputation according to our noted custom, and I therefore respectfully request that you assist me in maintaining my son's nobility. In confidence," (there followed the sign for Thranduil). |
Celeborn's hands trembled as he re-read the letter for what seemed like the thousandth time. Even amid the ethereal beauty of Lorien, dreams did not often come true in these late days - and yet here was Thranduil offering him his own dream, masquerading as a formality.
Young Elves of all races, raised among Elf-maidens who reserved their affections for their betrothed, sought play with each other at every opportunity, and threw their virtues wherever they saw fit. For a young warrior this was healthy and suitable fun, but for a high-born lad, especially a prince, such matters had to be handled with delicacy.
It was felt that such an Elfling, however loosely he might choose to behave in later days, should be relieved of his virtue in as formal a manner as possible, by an Elf of high birth and impeccable reputation. This would "maintain his nobility" no matter what he chose to engage in afterwards, and for Legolas, it was the only course of action his royal father would condone.
There was traditionally no reply to the letter, save the sending home in due course of the young Elf to his father, deflowered and yet preserved at the same time. Celeborn had done his duty by other Elves many times before, except in the case of Elladan and Elrohir, who as twins had naturally been mated with each other under his watchful eye.
But this time, it would not be just a tender duty, carried out as gently and sympathetically as possible. This time it would be the answer to a heartfelt prayer, that one day the shining son of Thranduil would come to him as more than just the ambassador of his father.
Legolas had waited the expected three days before seeking out Haldir - who had never bothered to hide either his own sluttish behaviour or his desire for the young prince - and sealing his fate. The Lorien lieutenant had known immediately the nature of the delicate scroll, and had made it clear to Legolas that he knew. It was easy to see how pure and vulnerable the young prince was, and Legolas was left feeling ashamed and upset. And now Celeborn had sent that same arrogant Elf back to the young one to convey his message of invitation - he would have chosen another, had not tradition again demanded the same messenger for the task.
Haldir could barely keep the smirk from his face as he stalked gracefully up to the heights of the mallorn where Legolas had retreated. So the little peach was ripe, was he? How long it had taken! Still, he would be all the sweeter for it. Such a shame he had to be delivered to Celeborn, and not to one of his many admirers slightly further down the tree. Haldir, like several other Elves of the Golden Wood, still hoped that they would have a chance to taste that sweetness before the Fellowship moved on, but for now he too had to do his duty.
Legolas heard Haldir's quiet approach and tried to swallow his rising nerves as he turned to face the intimidating Elf. Haldir kept a respectful distance, but his eyes still stripped Legolas down to his bare skin before he delivered his message.
"Late counsel is requested of you - you are kindly asked to present yourself at Lord Celeborn's chamber."
Legolas nodded meekly, his mind numb. Late counsel. More formality to avoid speaking the words, avoid stating that his father had freely offered the young prince's body to an Elf he did not know.
"I will go at once," he said, noting the licentious smirk twisting Haldir's perfect lips. Trying to maintain some dignity, he turned away from the leering hunter and swept away towards Celeborn's private quarters.
As Legolas neared the mallorn where Celeborn's private dwelling lay, he felt the fluttering begin in his belly. So this is it, he thought, my time has come. As he had grown older, and his body had blossomed in the slow, ethereal manner of the elves, Legolas had found his desires growing with him. His gaze had begun to stray to the lean, graceful bodies of his fellow warriors, and even his sibling princes, though he had always known that it was forbidden for him to act on the new desires welling up inside him. The withholding of nature had served to frustrate him, but it had also made him afraid of the ritual he faced.
Would it hurt? He had heard at Rivendell that Elladan had cried, and he had been taken by his twin, who loved him more than heaven and earth. Would it be dirty and shameful? He had grown up hearing all the advice he would ever need about this night, but - to be loved in that place? What if he soiled Celeborn's bed? He would die of shame, fling himself from the edge of the talan, if such a thing came to pass.
Nerves knotted his gut, but he strode steadily forward, telling himself over and over that his father had chosen for him the best lover he knew, and that all he had to do was relax and place his body in the hands of the more experienced Elf. Everything would be all right. Just as he had finished repeating this mantra for perhaps the fifth time, he found himself standing outside the curtained entrance to Celeborn's private chambers - and in the doorway was the Silver Lord himself, waiting to invite him in.
Legolas had never looked so beautiful to Celeborn. He had not believed anything could surpass the moment, many seasons ago now, when he first saw the Mirkwood prince, but this night already far outshone that day. Legolas' charms were enhanced by his demeanour of meek compliance, of trembling willingness to submit to whatever lay ahead. Celeborn held out his hand, entreating Legolas to come with him into his carven bedchamber for the revelation of untold secrets. The young Elf allowed himself to be led, and Celeborn began to wonder privately who was the more afraid.
"Welcome, Legolas," Celeborn said, more because he felt he had to say something to break the forbidding silence than out of protocol. The young Elf's hand trembled a little in his, and he found himself shivering in response, thought he told himself it was only because he had dressed for his forthcoming duty - with nothing beneath his soft grey robe - during Haldir's errand.
"Thankyou, my Lord." Such formality! And such nerves, blended with excitement until the one could not be seperated from the other. It was so cruel that Thranduil's formal request demanded the taking of his son to be almost emotionless; with not even idle chatter or a nip of strong cordial to steady either Elf's nerves.
"Sir," Legolas ventured, desperate to end the suspense. "I am ready, my Lord. Take me as you please."
This last was spoken breathlessly - due perhaps to no more than a nervous ascent of the highest tree in Caras Galadhon - but it sounded so wanton falling from those shell-pink lips that Celeborn felt his warming length grow heavy under his robe.
"Indeed, little one, I shall make you wait no longer," Celeborn said, raising his free hand to gently brush his fingertips across Legolas' cheek.
Pushing the green riding cloak off Legolas' shoulders, Celeborn was surprised when he simply let it drop to the floor. His eyes were hazy, and he pressed against Celeborn, his arms still at his sides despite the harsher rush of his breath, utterly passive. As he leaned against his chosen master, Celeborn felt the warm swell of his elfhood pressing against his muscled belly.
"Impatient already, Your Highness?" asked Celeborn, somehow making the royal title into a diminutive affection. In a burst of bravery, Legolas looked up at Celeborn, and said
"I've been impatient all my life, my Lord."
Celeborn had never heard his own title used so cheekily, and he laughed aloud, hugging Legolas to him. The prince wiggled, pressing his erection against Celeborn, and finally bringing his arms around the noble Elf and inviting further embraces. Celeborn's hands slid over his back and shoulders, and he drew the beautiful child into their first tentative kiss.
As he had hoped for so long, Legolas' lips were soft and sweet. The little one was pliant against him, and he took the submission as a signal and fluttered his tongue against those pink closed lips. They parted willingly, and Celeborn's tongue twined lovingly with the Elfling's in a slow dance. His pet's hard length burned against his own, and they embraced for only a few moments more before both knew that they had to move on swiftly, lest this become far more than a pleasant duty.
Stepping back, heedlessly treading on his discarded riding cloak, Legolas took up the lower hem of his thin, mithril-hued shirt, and swept it up over his head in a fluid motion that stretched his whole body like a cat. He felt Celeborn's eyes rove appreciatively over his smooth chest and a faint blush rose to his cheeks as the shirt floated gently to the floor.
Half-closing his eyes, still a little selfconscious of the noble Elf's gaze, Legolas slid his hands down his sides and hooked his thumbs in the top of his soft leggings, bending over and drawing them down his legs. Pulling the cords about his boot-tops, he stood up and stepped out of boots and leggings together, and at last he tipped his head up and looked Celeborn in the eyes.
Celeborn took a moment to gaze upon the beauty finally revealed to him. Starlight from the long unshuttered windows rippled over his pale honey body, which he displayed nervously yet without modesty. He was as finely-boned and well-proportioned in his body as he was in his face, his muscles were light and strong, and there was not a hair on his beautiful form. His delicate elfhood was slender, uplifted and eager, still protected by a gossamer-thin foreskin which Celeborn involuntarily reached out for, drawn to the first tiny bead of milt already shimmering there. Legolas gasped, and gave a high, sweet cry as the touch connected, stepping forward to place his arms about Celeborn's shoulders. The elder Elf felt a soft sigh wash against his neck, and his hands left the prince's trembling stem for the firm, ripe curve of his buttocks. He took a moment just to massage the tight globes, feeling the tension in the young Elf even now and willing it to subside. Then, as the prince utterly sagged against him, he took advantage of the sudden pliant weakness to lift Legolas off his feet and carry him with the strength of ages to his carven bed.
Celeborn gently laid Legolas down on the soft quilts, and he stretched out, raising his arms and lacing his fingers in the intricate headboard. He watched with wide sparkling eyes as the Lord opened his silver robe and let it slip down his body to pool on the ground at his feet. The elder Elf, untouched by time through all the ages of the world, had a sculpted beauty not unlike that of his younger companion, and Legolas found his eyes roving over his Lord's fine form. For the first time, in his mind, he offered a silent thankyou to his father for choosing the Lord of Lorien to be his first lover and tutor, as in truth he would have had to submit to whoever his father had deemed proper.
Kneeling on the bed, Celeborn then arranged himself beside Legolas, and reached for him again. The prince rolled toward Celeborn, feeling their naked flesh press together for the first time, and as the warm jolt passed through him he arched against his dutiful lover, his head tipping back to expose his vulnerable throat. Celeborn took advantage of the moment to place small, light kisses over Legolas' throat and pretty jaw, until a sigh and another boy-Elf wiggle urged him on.
Rising up over Legolas to plant a firm kiss on his lips, Celeborn began to nuzzle and kiss and lick a path down his belly, delighting in the way the abdominal muscles shivered in response to such attentions. Reaching the upturned stem, he moved beneath it, nuzzling the tiny hairless pouch until Legolas sighed and parted his thighs as if moving in a dream.
Nibbling up the inside of one alabaster thigh, Celeborn finally gave his pet relief by taking his delicate elfhood into his warm mouth. Legolas almost bucked off the bed in shock, and desperation to slip down Celeborn's throat, but the Elf-lord held and stroked his hips and thighs as he slid his lips over the hunter's aching flesh. Never had the Mirkwood child expected this! Hot and wet and sliding, robbing his world of all sensation save the burning moist torture of his sex.
As Legolas struggled, Celeborn suckled gently and allowed his hands to slide round to the tight hind cheeks, easing his fingers into the cleft in search of the prince's most secret place. Legolas alternately moaned and sighed, as Celeborn tickled his clenching little entrance, and held his aching arrow gently in his skilled mouth. But the prince's frustration was building with the pleasure, the torrent of new sensations threatening to overwhelm him, and he began to thrash his head from side to side as the tension in his body built.
Listening to the spiralling cries Celeborn worked his pet's flesh until finally his knuckles went white on the carven bedframe and he spilled his sparkling fluid into the Lord's waiting mouth. Celeborn greedily drank him down, amazed at the sweet taste, and becoming aware once again of the powerful throbbing in his own length.
After a time, Legolas managed to raise his head, eyes bleary and unfocused. He smiled weakly up at his master, his eyes half-lidded with sated passion. His hands left the bedframe and floated down, fingertips grazing his collarbones as he absently caressed himself. Celeborn, lying beside him on the soft quilt, watched transfixed as Legolas slid his hands down, gently teasing his own nipples before pinching the tender buds so fiercely he made himself cry out in pain. To Celeborn's surprise, the sharp jolt made the little one's pretty cock stir once again, soon to become as firm and eager as Celeborn's own.
Celeborn found that he could not keep his composure a moment longer - he had to claim the beautiful Elfling for himself. To his relief, Legolas seemed just as needy as he himself felt. The little one thrust his hips against Celeborn, his shaft rubbing against the Lorien Elf's larger, thicker weapon. Legolas found some relief in the friction, but he wanted more, and wanted it urgently. His first climax had opened the floodgates of his restricted sexuality, and Celeborn would have to work hard to satisfy him.
As the Elf-lord rose up over him, Legolas' lips found Celeborn's in the most natural way, hungrily engaging him as he reached to the side of the bed for the bowl of sweet oil kept there for such duties. He looked up trustingly into Celeborn's eyes as his Lord's oiled fingers slid between his perfect buttocks to find that tiny pink rosebud again.
"Nnnnnhhh..." Legolas drew his lower lip into his mouth and bit delicately upon it as Celeborn's oiled finger slid easily inside. Legolas may have been pure, but the young prince was so relaxed he could accept the unfamiliar caress without pain. He groaned as the intruding fingers made deep slick strokes, closing his eyes and rolling his head on the soft pillow. His arms stretched out, limp, his honey body spread out like an offering. When confident his young charge was deeply moistened, Celeborn moved his hand away and pressed his sex against the pulsing entrance.
"Legolas," Celeborn heard himself say, his voice hoarse with unexpected desire, "take a deep breath, and relax as you breathe out." Eyes wide, Legolas did exactly as he was commanded, and as he let the breath escape Celeborn pushed forward until the head of his shaft slipped inside.
Nothing could have prepared either of them for this feeling. The Elfling's clasping heat surrounded Celeborn, leaving him desperately clinging to his sanity. Legolas cried out and clutched at Celeborn's body, his eyes wide, his belly tensing at the feeling of being filled for the first time. For a moment, frantic, humiliating thoughts ran through his head, as a sheen of sweat broke out on his body. No...dirty...don't go in there...oh...feels good...nnnhhh...stretch me...so ashamed... But all thought was lost as nature began to command him. Celeborn paused for just a moment, letting his little one become used to the pressure within him, whispering barely audible words of love into his delicate ear. Legolas nodded his head dumbly, trying to let Celeborn know he was fine, and that he was ready for his lover to move. Celeborn understood, and kissed Legolas sweetly on the lips as he began to rock against him. Legolas brought his hands up over his Lord's shoulders and wound his fingers into the shimmering silver hair, tipping his head backwards and bringing Celeborn's lips to his tender throat again. As the natural rhythm of their joining took hold, Legolas began to moan from somewhere deep within, and Celeborn, in spite of his great experience, had to struggle to maintain his self control. With all of his concentration, the Elf-lord altered the angle of his deep strokes just a tiny amount, and was rewarded with a shocked cry of outright ecstasy.
"Please, please..." begged Legolas, though he did not really know what he was begging for, and Celeborn did not care as long as he was giving the young prince pleasure. But this would not last for either of them, and the end was racing toward them both, building in the little one's fluttering belly. Without warning, he thrashed helplessly, and spilled the shimmering milt from his untouched stem over his taut, damp skin. Moments after, Celeborn felt his own tide rise, and he bathed the prince's warm haven with a gift of his own.
For a long while, there was no sound in the bedchamber save desperate panting, as the two Elves lay still joined together. Eventually Celeborn rolled off the newly-made Elf beneath him, and the two lay for a while staring at the ceiling, their hands clasped together. Finally Legolas inclined his head to stare at Celeborn.
"Did my father set a limit to the number of times this is required?"
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Time seemed distorted in the mystical beauty of Caras Galadhon, but eventually it had slipped away from them, and the day had come for the Fellowship to move on in their quest.
Celeborn had been afraid that Legolas, having been broken in as the traditions of his forefathers demanded, would leave his care and promptly whore himself all over Lorien the way Haldir had done, but he need not have worried. True, the little one had been awakened to new needs that would stay with him forever, but he had not chosen to seek out his peers to satisfy them. Instead, to Celeborn's joy, the princeling had presented himself in his own chambers on several nights during their stay, and they had coupled with ever-increasing energy.
Now, as the remainder of the Fellowship left the knoll where the swan boats had moored for their farewell picnic, Legolas found himself gazing back, not at the radiant beauty of Galadriel, but at the stately figure of Celeborn, standing a little apart and looking directly at him. Shipping his oar a little, he allowed the water to bear him along and raised his arm to wave to the Elf-lord who had given him what he had desired for so long. And in response, he saw the raised arm of Celeborn, who until then had simply stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Would he be forgotten as the march of years turned the trickle of young Elves through Celeborn's bedchamber into a parade? Not this time, he thought - and not the next time either. For as they had parted, somehow that next time had already been agreed: more things can be spoken in code than simply those put into words.
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