Thranduil's Rings of Power
By Ciendriel
Thranduil, King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood, sat on his throne in
the large stonehall of his palace where he commonly greeted newcomers to
his land. To the left of his throne stood his son, Legolas, and to the right
stood two of his guard, Silinde and Saelbeth. Sometimes the greetings given
in this room were given in friendship. At other times he addressed prisoners
here before they were deposited in the dungeons. Today's greeting was meant
to be a friendly one, as Thranduil was welcoming a party of elves from Lothlórien.
However, the moment Thranduil saw the leader of this group's eyes come to
rest on Legolas, he wondered if the dungeons would not be put to use soon
enough.
"Welcome, Marchwarden," Thranduil addressed the bold elf, drawing his gaze
away from Legolas at last. The elf bowed to him in the traditional fashion
as Thranduil took in his fine figure. He was dressed in the traditional greys
of the border guards, though the black accents of his sleeves and leggings
denoted his station. His long golden hair hung straight half-way down his
broad chest and was accented with several small braids. Much of it was pulled
back in the same fashion of which his son was fond. Thranduil generally let
his own hair fall free in waves to his waist, held in place only by a small
circlet. To celebrate the change of seasons he often wore leaves or flowers,
but today he wore gold.
Today Thranduil wore all of his finery. His dark green robes were embroidered
in gold that matched the circlet. They were heavy and rich, but beneath them
he wore only a pair of deep brown suede leggings that clung to his muscular
legs like a second skin. He knew he presented a beautiful and imposing picture.
Thranduil was not unaware of his own looks. He was also not unaware of his
son's ethereal beauty and the fact that Legolas outshone him rarely bothered
Thranduil. Still, the Marchwarden should have possessed more sense and better
manners. Even now his gaze was returning to the prince, when the King had
scarcely said two words to him.
"What news do you bring from Lady Galadriel?" Thranduil asked irritably.
Haldir's eyes snapped back to the King.
"The Lady of Light sends her greetings and her affection," said the Marchwarden.
His voice was low and melodic. Thranduil found it pleasant to his ear. "I
am Haldir, and these are my brothers, Orophin and Rúmil. A shadow falls
across the borders of our land which brings great concern to Lady Galadriel.
I will share her words with you at length at your convenience. She also bids
you make what use of us you like over the summer season, but bids you return
us home at the change of leaves."
Thranduil nodded. This arrangement did not displease him. His household
could certainly support three extra warriors for one summer, and perhaps
they would come in handy. Silinde could take them to clear out some of the
spiders in the Southern quarter of the North wood. Their population was expanding
far too rapidly. He was also eager to hear what Galadriel had to say, but
Haldir was right. It should be spoken in private. Thranduil decided it would
wait until after dinner.
"I am certain I will find a use for you, indeed," Thranduil said, admiring
the full lips and fine features of the Lórien elf's face. He looked
over the Marchwarden's brothers, who were younger, taller and equally attractive.
It might be amusing to take one of these elves as a bed partner over the course
of the summer... but Haldir was staring at Legolas once more. Thranduil's
son fidgeted beside him and the King knew that Legolas had noticed the staring
as well. "Saelbeth will show you to some chambers that you make use of while
you are in my home. We will dine at eight in the banquet hall. I look forward
to conversing with you then, Haldir."
Haldir bowed again and Saelbeth stepped forward to lead the Lórien
party out. Thranduil dismissed Silinde as well and turned towards his son.
Legolas was his pride and joy. His mother had sailed for Valinor long ago
and the prince had grown up almost entirely in his father's care. Thranduil
could be a cold and violent King, but he never had anything but kindness and
patience for Legolas. He had done his utmost to raise his son well, and he
felt he had succeeded. Legolas was intelligent and well-read, and he was an
expert with many different weapons, the bow and sword being the least of
them. He knew a far deeper kindness and compassion than Thranduil ever showed,
and the King reckoned that came from his mother.
"What think you of this Marchwarden of Lórien?" Thranduil asked idly.
"I think he is the sort to push the limits. To know the rules, but only
to follow them if it suits him. That was my first impression," Legolas said
softly. "I think I shall look forward to knowing him better."
"If I permit it," Thranduil said irritably. Legolas returned the Marchwarden's
interest. Thranduil was not at all certain he approved.
Later that evening, when all the elves of Mirkwood gathered in the banquet
hall to fete the party from Lórien and the beginning of summer, Thranduil
watched the attraction flare between them. It distracted him, ate at him,
soured the taste of his wine. Saelbeth attempted to get his attention several
times, but Thranduil simply ignored him, watching Haldir flirt shamelessly
with his son.
Why did he feel so jealous? Normally he paid little mind to what lovers
Legolas took, for it was seldom that his son had a bed partner at all. Did
he want Haldir for himself? The Marchwarden was attractive, but so was Saelbeth.
Or Silinde. Or one of the brothers. Thranduil had seen Rúmil looking
at him appraisingly. He filed that thought away in his mind for later. Rúmil
certainly had possibilities. Legolas' comment about Haldir rang in Thranduil's
mind and the King determined that he would make sure that the Marchwarden
knew who was in charge here and that he followed the rules whether they suited
him or not.
"Come to my rooms, Haldir."
Legolas whispered the words, but Thranduil's hearing was sharp and the wine
his son had imbibed had made his whisper quite voluminous. Thranduil rested
his face against his hand as he heard Legolas give directions to his chamber.
Haldir apparently agreed to join him, and Legolas stood up from the table.
"Good night, Father," he said loudly.
Thranduil lifted his head and gave his son a bemused look. Legolas looked
so excited and earnest, his blue eyes shining brightly, that it almost made
him feel guilty about the plan formulating in his mind. He smiled benevolently.
"Good night, my son," he replied just as loudly and watched Legolas saunter
off.
Thranduil turned his attention to the Marchwarden. Haldir opened his mouth
and Thranduil knew he was about to make his excuses for the evening. He clapped
a hand on the Marchwarden's shoulder.
"Stay and have a cup of wine with me, Haldir," he said in a tone that brooked
no argument. He motioned to Galion, his butler, and another flagon of wine
was brought forth and poured for them both. "Tell me, what think you of Mirkwood?"
"I find it filled with great beauty," Haldir said tactfully. "I think I
shall enjoy my stay."
"I hope that you do," Thranduil replied softly. "Come with me. I wish to
hear what news you carry from Galadriel and Celeborn in private."
He watched Haldir closely, but the Marchwarden betrayed no hint of alarm
or disappointment. If he meant to jump up and follow after Legolas, he did
not show it. He merely nodded.
"As you wish, my lord."
Thranduil stood and led Haldir out of the banquet hall. He did not look
back, but assumed the Marchwarden would follow. His own bed chamber was not
far away and he opened the door to escort Haldir inside. Closing it behind
them, he turned hungrily to face the other elf. Haldir looked at him calmly,
his emotions impossible to read.
"I desire you, Haldir of Lórien," he said. Part of him hoped merely
to get a reaction from the other elf, but part of him found the words to be
true. "Surely Galadriel knew I would have you in my bed when she sent you
to me."
"She sent me only to bring news," Haldir maintained.
"Do you find me distasteful, then?"
"Of course not, my lord," Haldir replied smoothly. "I find myself far below
your notice."
"But not below the notice of my son," said Thranduil.
"I meant no harm."
"And you will cause none," said Thranduil. "Would you lie with me? For I
would have you, will you or not."
Haldir did not reply as Thranduil stepped forward and began to remove his
tunic. The King stripped off the outer garment, the skirt, and the under-shirt,
leaving the Captain of the Warriors of the Galadhrim bare-chested and stripped
to the waist. Haldir had a firm, muscular chest and beautifully sculpted torso.
Thranduil ran an appraising hand over Haldir's ribcage, squeezing gently
then running his thumb over the Marchwarden's pale brown nipple. Thranduil
lifted his fingers so he could pinch Haldir's nipple between them thoughtfully.
It stiffened in his grasp, as did its twin, and Haldir let out a thin hiss
of breath.
"Sensitive?" Thranduil teased.
"Yes," said Haldir breathlessly.
Thranduil let go of Haldir's nipple, then bent his tawny head to lick the
raised flesh. Haldir threw his head back and gasped. Thranduil chuckled wickedly.
He straightened up and began to remove his thick green robe so that he too
was stripped down to his leggings. He watched the Marchwarden's eyebrow lift
when he saw Thranduil's rings. Pierced through the flesh of each of the King's
nipples was a small hoop of gold which glittered in the dim light of the room.
"Do you like them?" he asked in a low voice.
"I have never seen such a thing on the body of an elf," Haldir admitted.
"At least not in such a sensitive spot. I admit to having noticed a hoop through
the ear of your councilor, Saelbeth, though I did not ask how he came by
it."
"I like to leave my lovers with a small souvenir," Thranduil said. "I think
yours will lie close to your heart."
A slight look of dismay came into the Marchwarden's eyes. So the facade
was cracked at last, Thranduil thought. Before Haldir could speak, Thranduil
put his hands on the other elf's cheeks and kissed him. He invaded Haldir's
mouth mercilessly, and soon enough the Marchwarden opened to him and returned
the kiss with equal passion. Thranduil backed him up against the bed and leaned
against him so they fell together into the soft depth of fur blankets and
large pillows.
"My lord," said Haldir. "I am here to serve you as you please, of course,
but I would not take home such a souvenir."
"Perhaps you would prefer something like this?" Thranduil asked. He stood
up from the bed and presented Haldir with his backside. He stripped off his
leggings. Lifting his heavy mass of burnished wavy hair from his shoulders,
he pulled it forward to display the tattoo that encompassed most of his pale
skin. It was a dragon, beautifully rendered he knew. He heard Haldir's appreciative
gasp.
"You are bold, my King. I am not so bold."
Thranduil turned back around. He watched as the Marchwarden caressed him
with his eyes, pleased by what he saw reflected there. So Haldir did not reserve
his lust only for Legolas. This was good, and it was bad. It meant that the
Marchwarden did not deserve his son's attention, if he would turn so easily
in the king's favor. It also meant that Thranduil could take him without
guilt, without worrying about Legolas' feelings.
Thranduil slid onto the bed beside Haldir and took the Marchwarden into
his arms. He kissed Haldir viciously, eagerly. His mouth pillaged the mouth
of the Lórien elf. His tongue sought quarter within the heated depths.
With one practiced hand he untied Haldir's leggings and pushed them down.
Haldir kissed Thranduil back with equal measure, his own hands exploring the
body of the King. Thranduil knew that this was no elf used to lying beneath
another. He would take some taming.
The kisses and caresses they shared grew rougher with each passing moment.
Haldir was trying to match him. While Thranduil might have enjoyed an equal
partner, he was not used to such things, and Haldir could not be led to think
he might master the King. With his knee Thranduil pushed the Marchwarden's
thighs apart and settled between them, the tip of his excitement pressing
against the tight entrance to Haldir's body. Haldir writhed beneath him. He
fought to maintain his calm, but he was failing. Thranduil stopped kissing
him and held him still for a long moment.
"Are you worth one ring or two?" Thranduil mused, pinching each of Haldir's
nipples in turn.
"I fear I am rather worth neither," Haldir said.
"I thought you were here to serve me however I pleased?" Thranduil mused.
"If... if I give myself, will you abstain from piercing me?" Haldir asked.
Thranduil chuckled. "I will have you, and you will have whatever jewelry
I care to give you, and you will wear it proudly or I will consider it an
insult."
He took Haldir's right hand and thrust it upwards, pinning it above the
Marchwarden's head. With his other hand he slipped a cuff that was attached
to the corner of the bed out from under a pillow and secured it to Haldir's
wrist. Before Haldir could realize what had happened, Thranduil did the same
to his left wrist. He slid off of Haldir and stood by the edge of his bed
to look at his handiwork. Haldir pulled at the cuffs and stared at Thranduil
with rage.
"Galadriel did not send me here to be abused!" he hissed.
"Galadriel has a ring herself, on a part of her person you are not likely
ever to see. So does Celeborn, for that matter. They are very good friends
of mine, and I imagine they would be insulted if I returned you to them without
some small sign of my enjoyment. Now, must I secure your ankles to the bed
as well, or will you behave?"
Haldir stopped fighting. He lay still, looking defeated. Thranduil reached
for a small dish of oil he kept at the side of his bed for this purpose and
slicked it over his length, which was already straining with his excitement.
The Marchwarden glared at Thranduil and said nothing as the King positioned
himself between his legs and slowly began to push himself inside the beautiful
body of his captive lover.
Haldir closed his eyes and hid the pain Thranduil knew he would feel at
this first joining. Thranduil kissed him tenderly, as if to make up for taking
him against his will. Haldir sighed against his lips and as Thranduil began
to move his hips the Marchwarden kissed him back again. Soon enough Haldir
gave in to what was happening to him and Thranduil knew he felt pleasure in
the coupling. Haldir struggled to hide it, but his body betrayed him, and
soon he cried out the King's name. Thranduil was well pleased. He met his
own release and lay panting atop the firm body of his delicious prey.
He let Haldir rest. Thranduil did not unchain the Marchwarden, nor did he
take his own rest. The King of Mirkwood required very little sleep, and he
used this to his advantage. He left Haldir in his bed while he went to wash
in his bathing chamber and took some breakfast. It was close to dawn and in
the dining hall he saw his son.
"Good morning, Legolas," Thranduil said cheerfully.
Legolas looked up at him, dark circles rimming his blue eyes that so resembled
his father's. "Good morning," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Is something wrong?" Thranduil asked with concern, but he knew. He knew
why Legolas was suffering.
"No," Legolas lied, looking down at his untouched breakfast plate.
Thranduil sighed inwardly, telling himself that this was for the best. Haldir
was not good enough for his son. Besides, if Legolas could not admit what
was troubling him, then he could not ask for what he desired. Thranduil would
have denied Legolas nothing.
"Come to me, when you know what you want," Thranduil said, then he left
his child in peace to return to his prisoner.
Haldir was still asleep, which suited Thranduil's purposes. From a small
chest he removed two golden rings and a silver pin. He had the pin through
Haldir's left nipple before the Marchwarden knew what hit him. He awakened
with a yell, his blue eyes angry, thrashing on the bed. Thranduil watched
as Haldir remembered that he was chained. When he stopped moving, the King
slipped the gold ring through Haldir's flesh.
Haldir glared at Thranduil, radiating hatred. Thranduil looked back at him
calmly. He had expected as much. That would be changed before Haldir was allowed
to leave the bed chamber. The Marchwarden lay still, lifting his head slightly
to watch as Thranduil pierced his other nipple. This time he did not cry
out, though he gasped as the pin slid through his flesh. Thranduil poured
a little wine over each wound to clean it, sucking at each freshly ringed
nipple in turn. A glance downward told him that Haldir was already experiencing
a newfound sensitivity.
"They will be fully healed by tomorrow," Thranduil said.
"Will you release me now?" Haldir asked in a voice that clearly fought to
maintain calm.
"Not just yet," Thranduil said. "I want to watch over the healing process-
and enjoy you abit longer."
The King slid down the Marchwarden's body and took him into his mouth. Haldir
moaned and bucked against him. The next twenty-four hours passed quickly.
At dawn the next morning Thranduil unchained his prisoner at last. Haldir
sat up and rubbed his wrists. He looked at Thranduil now with respect, and
the King knew that from this day on he always would.
"Come, Haldir," he said. "Dress yourself. You must be starving. Breakfast
awaits."
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