Part Seventeen

Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, was quite surprised at Elrond's suggestion that the Elvenking excuse Haldir from his bedchamber. After all, part of the reason he had issued the command was for Elrond's comfort. Anyone with two eyes could see that Haldir and Legolas were about to become lovers, and if Legolas was going to marry Arwen, this probably was not a good idea.

Or at least, Thranduil thought, Elrond would not see it as a good idea. Personally, he thought it was about time his son learned the ways of the world, and he could not imagine why Saelbeth or Silindė had not yet responded to his cry for help. Well, Silindė perhaps. He was afraid to reject Thranduil. Thranduil probably should have excused him from the bedroom long ago and he knew he was being selfish about it, but the truth was he did not want the loneliness of an empty bed. Silindė was familiar, submissive and comforting.

Perhaps Silindė lusted after his son, but they all did. Everyone wanted Legolas, and who could blame them? He was the only elf in Mirkwood more fair than Thranduil himself. Thranduil was proud of his son -- not just for his spectacular looks but for what a good person he had grown up to be. He was clever and kind, he just lacked in experience in many matters. This was part of the reason Thranduil allowed him to wander freely in the wood, despite the dangers that lurked -- and the reason he made him take a guard. As a result, Legolas was a dead-on shot and an excellent hunter.

Thranduil wanted Legolas to choose his own lover, and it amazed him that any would refuse the Prince. Haldir of Lórien had esteemed himself in the King's eyes when he made his refusal to lie with Thranduil. He was willing to dare the Elvenking's famous wrath in order to be true to the Prince. This made Thranduil smile inwardly. He had spent many years making his wrath famous. He knew it was important for a King to be feared and respected, even if at times that meant he was left a bit…lonely.

As he and Elrond exited the throne room and walked down the hall, he wondered if he was reading too much into Elrond's words. He could swear Elrond was giving him the eye lately, but the two of them had never gotten along, never mind had a physical attraction between them. He did not dislike the Lord of Imladris, even though at times he purported to. Thranduil simply enjoyed piquing him, because there were few who could argue with him so logically and so passionately.

Elrond stopped in front of a door and Thranduil was halfway down the hall before he realized. Elrond cleared his throat. Thranduil turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. There was no mistaking the look of determination on the face of the Lord of Imladris. Thranduil examined him for a moment. Elrond's long dark hair flowed to his waist in a shiny silk curtain. It was held out of his piercing grey eyes with a small circlet that was not nearly as ornate as the ones Thranduil generally wore. He was leaner than the Elvenking, and not quite as tall.

Elrond's features were slightly sharp -- in his sons they were softer, giving Elrohir and Elladan a youthful look that their father did not possess and probably never had. His arched eyebrows made him look perpetually stern. Thranduil liked that commanding air. It was one that he had manufactured in himself, more difficult due to his softer, more tender features, features Legolas had inherited almost exactly. Thranduil was reminded that Elrond was half-elf. It was likely his mortal blood that gave him this exotic look.

"That is the door to my bed chamber," Thranduil said with amusement.

"Yes, I know," said Elrond.

Thranduil sauntered back down the hall towards him. "So this is why you were so eager to have Haldir excused."

"I suppose it is," Elrond sighed.

"You desire me."

"Why does it sound so sordid when you say it?"

Thranduil raised his fingers to Elrond's cheek, trailed them over the pale flesh. "You want it to be sordid," he said, injecting a smug note into his tone.

Elrond surprised him then, pressing his whole body against Thranduil's, shoving him up against the doorway and taking his mouth with a demanding force. The Lord of Imladris grabbed his wrists, pinning them at either side of the Elvenking's head. His kiss was hungry, but not vicious. Thranduil matched his fervor. Never in his long, long life would he have guessed that kissing Elrond would be like this. Already his body was coming to life, filling him with sharp heat.

"Inside," Elrond said when the kiss broke, his lips barely a fraction from Thranduil's bruised and wanting mouth.

"Yes, inside," Thranduil agreed. He opened the door and pulled Elrond into his room. He kissed the half-elf again, moving them towards the bed.

"It is beautiful," Elrond said, letting go of Thranduil abruptly to look around the room. The Elvenking sat down on the edge of the bed heavily, breathless, simply staring at his guest. He had never had anyone come into his bedroom and stop to admire the surroundings. Elrond certainly was a different breed.

The walls of the King's private chamber were set into a mosaic of jewels. His father had decorated this room, and the mural illustrated one of Oropher's great battles. The previous King of Mirkwood had been lost in the war against Sauron many years previously. Thranduil still missed him at times, and he wished Legolas could have known his grand-sire. The King's bed was large and rife with velvet spreads and soft pillows. He had some small amount of furniture, all gilded and ornate. Thranduil looked around at all this blindly as Elrond marveled over it.

"Will you come to bed?" he said irritably.

Elrond turned around and smiled at him coldly. "Take off your clothing."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. He was not one to let another elf master him. "Do you not wish to help me off with it?"

"I want to watch you strip it off, the way you did beside the waterfall today," Elrond said. "I want to see your body in motion, bending, swaying, struggling with your tunic."

"I am quite good at getting out of my tunic. I do not need to struggle with it," Thranduil said, but it pleased him that Elrond had been watching him earlier.

"Do it, Thranduil," Elrond urged quietly. He stood there, folding his arms over his chest.

Thranduil stood up and slowly removed his tunic. He deliberately took his time, watching the smoldering embers in the other lord's eyes grow hotter. He kept Elrond's gaze as he next removed his boots, then his leggings. He had nothing beneath these, and he stood proudly naked, knowing his physique was well-favored in all aspects. Elrond's eyes raked him, stirring him.

"Are you going to take off your robes?"

"In a moment. Lie down."

"Why do you not come to me, and lie down, and I shall strip you."

Elrond moved closer. He embraced the King, his hands roaming over his bare skin. The press of his soft purple velvet robes against Thranduil was provocative and erotic. Thranduil bit lightly at Elrond's throat, feeling his posture straighten as a soft moan escaped him.

"What is that attached to your bed, Thranduil?"

"Hmm?" Thranduil glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, the restraints. Sometimes I like to keep Silindė still."

"Monstrous," said Elrond. He tipped Thranduil back onto the bed, falling on top of him. Thranduil did not like being underneath, so he moved to roll them over, but he had been taken by surprise and Elrond had the advantage. Before he could stop him, Thranduil found himself chained to his own bed.

"No," he protested, but Elrond silenced him with a kiss.

"Yes," the Lord of Imladris insisted. "I think I like you better this way. Suddenly you are far less dangerous."

Thranduil had never, ever been taken this way before. He pulled and railed against the restraint, but he knew they would not give. Roundly he cursed at Elrond, who simply smiled at him and began to touch him in such a way that Thranduil could barely think, never mind protest. The thrill of a new challenge began to take hold in the King and he found himself more aroused than he had been in centuries.

Thranduil gave in and let Elrond do as he pleased.