Adennin

Title: Adennin
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FCS, M/M Slash
Characters: Glorfindel/Thranduil
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Khylaren
WARNING: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Author's Notes: Written for the LOTR Adult Fiction birthday challenge. Happy Birthday Alex and Larian! Thanks for all that you do for us. Written in first person, present tense, and my first with this pairing.

Summary: Glorfindel is sent to spend some time in Mirkwood and Thranduil plans a special surprise.

*****

I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Noble Elf of Gondolin and Imladris, and I have been sent back after death to await my purpose in this new life.

* * * *

I stand before him in his stately office; a large, sturdy oak desk stands between us. He sits in his high-backed chair, his elegant fingers entwined with one another, his hands folded in his lap as he looks at me. I do not often look him in the eye, as to do so is too difficult for me, but I do look at him when he does not know it.

I am a strong and confident elf; I have the wisdom of the Eldar. I have faced down horrors that I pray the rest of my kind never see. But this elf, this Sindar King who lives far removed from the others of his kind, strikes a fear at my core that I can barely withstand.

"Do you fear me?" he asks.

"Yes," I answer.

"Always?"

"Yes."

He rises from his chair and rounds the desk to stand in front of me. We have spent much time together in the years I have served him, and he never fails to leave me in awe.

He touches me with the reverence one would show a god, feathery soft caresses upon my arms and shoulders, gentle warm breath caressing my ear as he speaks softly to me. He leans forward and I feel a tremor course through my frame.

"I know what this day is," he says in a voice that resonates in my very bones.

"You do?" I ask, struggling not to tremble beneath his heated regard.

"'Tis the anniversary of your rebirth," he answers. "You tried to hide it from me, I know this."

"I…" I stutter, unable to find the words to express what I am thinking. "I do not like to think on it," I finally finish.

"Why, maethoren valthen?"

He walks around me in a slow circle as I stand before him. It has been a few short years since I have come to be in his service, and I am successful at hiding what he does to me, except when we are alone.

I heeded the words of my master when I left to come here, and I have tried to resist him, though my resolve is weakening. I remind myself of what I am, of who I am; but it is to no avail when he speaks to me, for his mere voice makes me weak.

"It was a painful experience, my Lord," I answer. "To experience the pain of death, then be denied the peace that comes after in Aman..."

"Denied?" he asks. "Yes, I suppose that is what has happened to you. One has to wonder why the Valar did such a thing to one who has committed the ultimate act of self-sacrifice. But only they know the reasons for what they do."

A gentle brush of a fingertip along my jaw forces me to turn my eyes from the floor and shift my gaze to meet his own. I rarely look into his eyes as what I see there frightens me. Beyond the depths of sapphire burns a heat that causes my heart to race and my mind to swim. His touch and his kiss, make promises of eternal passion, of fire so hot that it would cleanse my very soul.

"So strong," he whispers, "so brave and noble, yet so alone and afraid."

He circles me again, I can feel his eyes roaming over my body, lighting upon a part he finds particularly appealing before resuming their journey. Only the Valar know how long he has desired me, and he has been unwavering in his pursuit of me since I arrived.

"How long has it been, Glorfindel?" he asks. "Since one gave themselves to you? Since one gave without taking?"

I slowly shake my head and swallow. "I do not know, my Lord."

"I rarely give and always take," he answers. "But that is my way. I have given my heart to only one in my long life, but that has left me alone. Lovers, of those I have plenty. But love? Of that, I only have my son's." He takes a deep breath and continues. "I have grown to know you as a soldier and warrior, and a trusted advisor, Glorfindel. It is no secret what I want from you. I have not tried to hide it, nor have you hidden your resistance to it. I can only imagine what he told you before you came here, though I am sure the words seducer and wicked were among those spoken."

He has crossed back in front of me now, and as I open my mouth to protest he silences me by placing his fingertips upon my lips. Oh sweet Elbereth! The touch of his fingers upon my mouth nearly causes my knees to buckle.

He reaches down and takes my hand. "Come," he says, "I wish to give you something."

My resolve crumbles with each passing moment that he holds my hand. I do not know where he is leading me, as the passageways are dark and secret. He moves forward without aid of a torch for light, as he knows these halls and passages as well as he knows himself. We walk slowly, as he does not wish me to stumble in the dark, and I hear the creaking of a large door and feel the warm glow of firelight as it begins to flood the passageway.

We cross over the threshold and into his bedchamber. I stop, yet I do not seek release from his grip.

He turns to look at me and he smiles, gently tugging upon my hand until I enter fully and the door creaks shut behind me.

"Come, Glorfindel," he says softly. "Trust your instincts. I could not force myself upon you even if I wished to do so. You are my match, physically."

I know he is right, but my physical strength is not what is failing me. I look around a room that is closed but to a select few. I have seen his lovers come and go, and I see the way they look at him, as if they worship him.

He steps behind a screen and removes his courtly attire, emerging dressed in a thin, silken robe. I swallow as my eyes wander without my bidding over his powerful form; every curve, every muscle, visible as the thin fabric clings to his body. He removes his crown and places it in a box upon a stand near the screen and he takes down his elaborate braids. When he turns to face me again, I cannot suppress the gasp that escapes me.

He has been transformed from an imposing King to the most beautiful elf I have ever laid eyes upon. Without the formal robes and crown and stately braids, he is softer, more sensual, more open. He steps forward and takes both my hands in his as he leads me to stand next to the bed.

He places his hands at his sides and whispers, "Kiss me, Glorfindel."

Presented with this irresistible temptation, my resolve crumbles. I comply without question, leaning forward and bringing our lips into contact. It is brief, soft, but it hints at so much more. No sooner have my lips left his, than my hands are in his hair and I am pulling him toward me, kissing him with savage desire. He opens to me with no fear, no reservation, allowing me to drink my fill from his sweet lips. By the Valar, never have I kissed one thusly, never have I tasted anything so delicious.

His soft moan urges me on. And although my mind screams at me to stop, I press forward as he opens wider, drawing my tongue into his mouth with his own. I am drowning in his kiss and I do not care. I do not care that I do not belong here. I do not care that he does not love me. I do not care that when he is finished with me he will cast me aside as he has done to so many others in the past. All I care about is this moment, how he makes me feel, how good he tastes, how good he feels in my arms.

My tunic falls away from my body as I drop my hands. He is in control now; it is his hands in my hair, crushing my mouth against his as he consumes me. He pulls away, licking his swollen lips as he turns his midnight eyes to mine. The corners of his perfect mouth curve into a smile as he guides me to the foot of the bed.

His hands caress my bare back and shoulders, fingers splayed wide, exploring every curve every hidden place, testing, teasing, and finding what drives me mad.

"Ah!" I cry out softly. Oh… lips added to hands, lips softer than any I have experienced, lips that call to me silently with nothing but a smile.

"Please, oh please, do not ever stop," I whisper.

"I will not," he answers. "You are mine now, my beauty. I have chosen you; I will love you, always."

Soft breath upon my neck, words so sweet and inflaming that I can barely stand the listening of them. My knuckles turn white as I grip the large posts at the foot of his stately bed, clinging to these solid columns of oak to keep me from falling into an abyss that I will never return from.

Love? Does he mean it? Or does he say it to entice me into giving him all that I am? I find I do not care, for even one night in his arms would be worth the pain and loneliness of rejection. He stands behind me, his mouth and hands roaming my body, and I arch against him, soft whimpers escaping my lips. My arms and legs are splayed wide, as one crucified by the Dark Lord, my muscles and limbs ache from the strain of this uncomfortable position.

His hands drift down my abdomen and I feel the pop of the string as my leggings come loose. His fingers dance over my swollen arousal as it strains against the fabric of my garments. His other hand grazes over my hard nipples, and I lean my head back and begin to beg. I bring my legs together as he slides my leggings over my hips and off my legs, freeing my engorged length to the warm air of the room.

He moves away from me and I feel his absence keenly as I open my eyes. He kneels upon the bed in front of me, a generous smile gracing his lips.

"Look at me, Glorfindel," he says softly, and I comply. He slides his robe off his body, exposing his perfect skin and lean yet muscular form to my eyes. "In honor of the anniversary of your rebirth, I do something I have never done before," he says, his deep voice dripping with lust. "I give myself to you, to do with as you please, to use as you desire."

My eyes widen and I open my mouth to answer, but I find I cannot. Rather than answer him with words, I climb onto the foot of the bed and take him in my arms. I sigh as I cradle him against me, my beautiful King, and I whisper in his ear, "I will love you well, my Lord."

A smile graces his perfect lips as he wraps his arms around me. I lay him upon the bed and take my time savoring his sweet mouth, rocking my body against his, bringing our heated lengths together in slow caresses. I love the way his hands feel in my hair, how he grips me tightly, how he feels as desperate for me as I feel for him.

I leave his sweet mouth and explore his neck as he turns his head, a long sigh of pleasure slipping from his lips. His hands alternately clutch and caress my back as his legs fall apart, bringing us into even closer contact. I move from his neck to his ear and feel the fine tremor that courses through his body. I am lucky and I know it. I know that he does not give himself this way to others; I know that this is for me and me alone.

Already our bodies are becoming one, moving together as one. I feel my heart skip and I gasp quietly; its rhythm has changed and now it beats in time with its mate. I tingle from my head to my toes, a warm, pulsating rhythm flowing through me, swelling within me and I look into his eyes.

He smiles and caresses my face as he whispers, "Do not be afraid, Glorfindel. It is only love." A tear falls from my eye, as I know he speaks the truth. After so long, love has found me in the place I least expected it, in the arms of a Sindar King in the depths of a dark forest.

I smile gently and answer, "I am not afraid, not anymore." I consume him again, touching him everywhere, leaving no place undiscovered. His skin is so soft, so warm, so alive; his haunting, deep voice echoes in my ears and I am lost in a sea of love and pleasure, and I do not care if I ever return from it.

The fire that burns within me is near unbearable as my lips find their way to the source of his passion. He wads the bedcovers in his fists as he spreads his legs and arches for me, his body a taut work of art, strong and elegant, and decadent beyond imagining. I press my face into his hot, moist sex, breathing in the scent of his desire, tasting his smooth length with my tongue. Gods, how I want him, how I have always wanted him but been too untrusting to acquiesce. I want to hear him beg for me, and I know he will; because it is what I want. I know now that he would do anything for me, anything that was in his power to do. I lap at the soft pouch of skin that lies beneath his rigid length and I hear his beautiful voice cry out as I take it into my mouth. I drive us both onward, toward the inevitable end before the fall, before the plunge that will leave me wasted and spent inside him.

I release him from my mouth and work my way lower, my tongue flicking against his most intimate of places, before pressing inside. He cries out and arches against the bed as I taste him, gently preparing the way. He whispers words that stoke the flames of my desire, that soothe me and burn me at once, words that blind me with lust and love. As I sit up, I see him holding out the phial that he keeps by his bed; it is an offering he has never made before. No one has done what I am about to do; no one has ever entered him and filled him with the root of their lust. How one so beautiful, so sensual, and yes, so wicked can still be untouched is a miracle to me, and I am honored to be the one he has chosen to give himself to.

I coat my pulsating length thoroughly and cover my fingers in the viscous substance. I look into his eyes and see the apprehension, but I also see the love, and he nods his approval to me. First only one finger, slowly, gently slipping it inside. I watch him chew his lower lip as he grows accustomed to this strange, unknown sensation, and I pause, reaching up with my mouth to soothe the mark left by his teeth. He moans into my mouth as I rotate my finger and I pull back from his mouth, but do not totally leave it, my lips hovering over his when I find what I seek.

He cries out and arches powerfully against me, his rigid length pressing firmly into my stomach. I whisper, "Do you see the pleasure you have given so many others in the past? Do you understand their cries now?"

"Yes," he answers, "Please, do it again."

I smile and comply with my lover's request, sending another bolt of white-hot fire roaring through his veins. I know what he feels as I have felt it myself; the all consuming and blinding desire that burns one's blood. Gods how his cries echo in my ears, erasing all that came before him, bringing all of my life and all of my past down to this single moment in time. I add a second finger, slowly, gently, and he moans wantonly, his legs beginning to tremble with the strain of being held in so awkward a position for so long.

I grab the pillows from the head of the bed and whisper, "Roll over, melethen."

He shakes his head and answers, "No. I want to look into your eyes, I want to watch your face as you take me."

"As you wish, seron vell," I answer.

He is prepared for me now, and I gather his legs up, draping them over my shoulders as I position myself at his entrance. I give him a questioning look and he nods and smiles gently, and I push inside his untried body.

A deep groan rises from the very depths of me as I am encased in heated velvet luxury, and his answering moan fills my ears as I bury myself to the hilt. I pause, giving his body time to adjust to so shocking an invasion, and I feel him relax around me. Slowly I begin to thrust, shallowly at first, but my depth and speed increases as I hear his plaintive, soft moans. Never has one felt so good to me, so perfect, like a handmade glove, warm and soft and familiar. I taste of his open mouth, my tongue darting inside and teasing his own. We move together now, our bodies rocking against each other, his strong hand clutching my buttocks, his fingers digging into the flexing muscles. His other hand is wadded in my hair as he crushes my mouth against his in a brutal and claiming kiss. Claim. That is what he has done to me, that is what he did to me the first day I arrived in his realm. I am his now, and he is mine.

My release is building, and I insert my hand between our sweat-slicked bodies and grasp his heated length. He groans into my mouth as I begin to pump it, long, slow, silken glides of my hand punctuated by a squeeze at the swollen tip. It weeps freely now, and I feel it begin to twitch.

"Come for me, melethron," I pant into his mouth. "Bathe our bodies in your essence."

He cries out to me, my name spilling from his lips as his seed floods the space between us. He tightens around me, mercilessly squeezing my engorged length as I bury myself to the root and spill myself inside him. His name dies upon my lips in a whisper as I collapse upon him, and I feel his hands in my hair.

"Melin le, Glorfindel," he whispers into my ear.

"Melin le, Thranduil," I answer.

"Happy Birthday, melethen."

I smile. Melethen. That is who I am.

* * * *

I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Noble Elf of Gondolin and Imladris. I am beloved of Thranduil Oropherion, and I am reborn.

*****

Adennin = Reborn (born again)
Maethoren valthen = my golden warrior
Melethen = my love
Seron vell = dear lover
Melethron = lover
Melin le = I love thee

*****

THE END

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