Sun-Kissed Blood 1

Sun-Kissed Blood

Part 1

Posted: April 4, 2008
Title: Sun-Kissed Blood
Author: Elohir Mornedhel
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Legolas
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me no matter how I might wish otherwise. No profit is made. The only benefit is the joy I take in writing and the readers take in reading.
Warnings: Graphic depictions of homoerotic sex. Blood. Violence. Language. Tissue.
Beta: Mistress Minx
Author's Notes: I have a picture of a night elf from Warcraft. She looked really cool with glowing eyes and tiny little fangs. Well, this idea hopped into my head at about 3am in the morning.

Summary: A lover, a curse and a life altered.

*****

Thranduil stared dumbfounded with his blade piercing the chest of his beloved. Those brown eyes he loved looked at him with shock and betrayal. The dagger in his hand clattered to the ground.

"Thran?" he coughed, blood spilling over his lips from his punctured lung. "Why?"

The young prince pulled the dagger free and caught his lover as he fell to the ground. The floor of his father's bedchamber hit hard on his knees.

"Why indeed?" King Oropher growled from the bed where he had fended off his attacker.

"You tried to kill my adar Mornefin," Thranduil asked. "I could not... Goheno nin melethen."

"It is as I feared," Mornefin gurgled. "You choose him over me. I should have known... I curse you both and that most blessed day when you came into my life Thran...."

"No Mornefin... saes... I... " the prince cried, silver tears streamed from emerald green eyes.

"On your most blessed day, may you feel... this pain, drink of blood spilled. I curse you Melethen and your line... " Mornefin hissed. "Had you been king... we could love freely.... he... never would.... have allowed.... a scholar too base for.... his precious prince."

A howl of pain tore from Thranduil's throat as his beloved's last breath left him on a liquid gurgle. He cradled the other elf to his chest as he cried, rocking back and forth without even realizing it. Nothing mattered. Nothing existed until a strong hand came to rest on his shoulders. King Oropher pulled him to his feet and away from the body.

"Let the healers take him ionen," he said softly.

He took Thranduil into his study and sat him in the large chair by the fire. From the glazed look in the prince's eyes, he knew shock had hit. Oropher poured a glass of wine and handed it to his son. When no reaction came, he took it and forced Thranduil to drink it all. Then he waited.

After a few moments, the prince came back to himself and the tears began anew. His father simply held him, letting him cry his grief. It would not end today. It would not end for many, many years.

"I killed him," Thranduil whispered.

"You saved my life," Oropher said. "It was an ill-conceived attempt based on a false idea."

"What?" the prince said, his eyes shooting to his father's cerulean gaze.

"Do you think I wanted you to live without love?" the king asked. "I did not realize you thought me so cruel. I want you to be happy, Thranduil. I am your father first and foremost. It may not seem like it all the time, for I must see to the needs of our people, both short and long term, but I am not heartless."

"Will it ever stop hurting?" Thranduil asked. "Will the pain of loss ease some day?"

"Aye, it may ease but it will never go away," Oropher whispered as he held his son once more.

"Will we truly be cursed?" the prince questioned.

"That remains to be seen," the king answered. "Such things are never to be taken lightly. We must wait and see, ionen, we must wait and see."

*****

Nothing could ruin this day. That was the thought running through Thranduil's head as he strode down the hall. His hervess had quietly gone into labor this morning with their first child. Though a part of him dreaded the pain she would undoubtedly experience, another was elated that he would finally be able to hold his child. Even the distant rumble of thunder could not affect his mood.

How could childbirth take so long? After several hours of helplessly listening to his wife scream, Thranduil could think of nothing else. When would it be over? Would both wife and child be healthy? The questions were swirling around his head until he couldn't grasp a single one and pull it to coherency.

A son. Bittersweet tears ran down the King of Greenwood's face as he held his child in his arms for the first time. His lady wife looked at him with a weak smile. She was so very tired. With the knowledge only women seem to have, she knew she would not see her son grow to adulthood. She would fight for every moment she had with him and her beloved hervenn but eventually, Nivien would pass to the Halls or sail west.

"We shall call him Legolas," she whispered to her husband as he came to sit next to her on the bed. "Our little Greenleaf."

It was with a sad heart that King Thranduil lit the funeral pyre. One hand clenched the torch, while the other held his son tightly against his chest. A single tear slid down his face to drop, feather light, on his son's cheek. Legolas looked up at his Adar with solemn eyes too old for one of his age. He watched the king bid farewell to his beloved wife on her journey to Mandos' hall.

"We are in need of a wet nurse, Hiren," Lindir said softly as Thranduil rocked his son to sleep that night.

"I know Lindir," the king answered softly. "I just... I do not want her replaced in his memories."

"We will keep Nivien alive for him. However, he needs to eat and you cannot provide for him, Hiren. Shall I see to it?" his chief advisor asked.

"Yes, please. I am sorry Lindir. I am not myself today,” the blonde elf answered.

"It is to be expected. Your wife was a great lady and she will be sorely missed," the advisor said softly.

Vaidre happily took her place as Legolas' nurse. She fell in love with the little prince the minute she laid eyes on him. There was nothing in the world that would ever make the elleth change her mind. Not even the first time he bit her.

"Ai, easy pen dithen," Vaidre murmured with a smile as the prince eagerly sucked at her breast. The sting made her look closer. "Oh, oh... you must stop for a moment. "

Gently she broke the suction of the babe's mouth. Immediately he scrunched up his face and began to cry loudly. Vaidre bounced him up and down, whispering soothing words as she wiped the smears of blood from her skin. With several elflings of her own, she was more than capable of treating the small cuts from Legolas' fingernails with one hand, while settling him on her other breast.

This time she felt the piercing pain in her breast. Looking down she saw the blood welling and Legolas' sucking increased. Vaidre's eyes widened as the prince drank eagerly, the blood mixing with the milk. With a small gasp, she shot to her feet, taking the elfling with her and hurried to the door. She asked a passing servant to fetch the king immediately and then returned to the rocking chair.

Thranduil burst through the door a few moments later. He looked about the room, expecting some catastrophe. Seeing none, he turned his eyes to the nurse quietly rocking his sleeping son.

"What is wrong here?" He demanded. "Why did you summon me?”

"There is something you need to know about the prince," she whispered.

"What? Is he ill?" The king said, his voice immediately softening as he rushed to the side of the chair and looked down at Legolas.

"I do not know," Vaidre said quietly. "But you should look at this."

She moved the elfling so his father could see his face. Gently she lifted his rosy pink lip. He shifted and gave a small cooing sound but did not waken.

"He has teeth, Hiren," the nurse said softly. "Not just any teeth, but tiny precious little fangs."

Thranduil could not deny what was before him. There, glinting as light flashed across them, were two tiny needle sharp fangs.

"He has bitten me twice today," Vaidre explained. "There is something distinctly different about Legolas. I thought he had just scratched me with his nails, which need to be trimmed, but when I moved him to the other side to finish feeding, I felt them piercing my flesh and his suction increased as the blood flowed. We shall have to test it to be sure and I can do that at his next feeding, but I think he has a very... unique dietary requirement."

"You are taking this quite calmly," Thranduil said as a rock of dread settled heavily in his stomach. "Drink of Blood', the phrase now came back to haunt him as a curse centuries old bore fruit.

“That he has different needs does not bother me, Hiren. He still holds a piece of my heart,” Vaidre smiled.

“I do not think you will be returning to the weavers, Vaidre,” the king said softly as the prince made small milk bubbles in his sleep.

“As you wish, Hiren,” the nurse said.

*****

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